#Don’t mind her messy paws it’s fine but I do really like how her tail came out I wish it showed it more but y know it’s fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teshamerkel · 3 years

Photo

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 19] (26 Pages)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Tobias and Nia practice their sparring skills under Val’s guidance, and receive a warning about their upcoming trip.

“Begin!” Val calls.

As Tobias expects, Nia takes a defensive stance, so he dashes forward to go on the attack and try to strong-arm her. He swipes at her once, twice, only for her to side-step out of the way each time. Good. Even if she’s upset, at least she’s trying. Wouldn’t be much of a spar if Nia just gave up immediately.

Tobias moves into the riolu’s space and ducks low, spinning and catching her legs with his tail. With a yelp, the riolu trips backwards and falls to the ground. He lunges to pin her, but she rolls out of the way and springs back to her feet. Tobias follows, not letting up on his assault. Nia is struggling to keep up, all her focus on deflecting his scratch attacks, so Tobias switches tactics. He steps closer and blows a puff of white smoke directly into her face, and she falls out of her concentration with a startled yip, stumbling backwards and falling onto her butt. Tobias smirks down at her, victorious.

“Elemental moves,” He reminds her. “An ember would’ve hurt from that close.”

“Ugh, I keep forgetting about that,” Nia huffs, a frustrated frown on her face. “I wish I was a fire type or something too. Maybe then I could figure out my moves easier.”

“You have more options than most fighting types,” Tobias points out.

Nia gets to her feet and gives him a curious look. “How so?”

“…Don’t tell me you forgot about your aura powers.”

“Oh!” Nia’s ears flick back, a sheepish expression crossing her face. “U-Uh. No, but I…might have forgotten they could be used for attacks?”

Tobias gives her an unimpressed look. “Aura’s not just a cool party trick. If you use it right it could be a huge advantage in battle.”

He’s half-expecting Nia to scold him for his harsh tone, but she’s busy looking at her palms with a thoughtful expression. “Huh. That’s…a good point.”

“I’m full of ‘em,” Tobias drawls. “Now come on, we aren’t done and I don’t wanna know what Val’s idea of punishment is for slacking off.”

Nia hurries back into position and they go again. The next round it’s clear Nia’s mind is elsewhere, probably thinking about her aura powers, and Tobias easily knocks her flat.

“Don’t check out mid-fight,” Tobias growls. “That’s why you freeze all the time in battle! Stay focused. Stop thinking so much.”

“How do I stop thinking?” Nia complains.

“Just…let your body do it’s thing. I dunno. Just stop worrying so much.”

“Helpful,” Nia grumbles. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll get right on that.”

Tobias throws his arms up. “I don’t know how to get your head to shut up!”

“Less arguing, more sparring,” Val calls from the sidelines. “Unless you would rather do laps around the training grounds?”

Tobias and Nia fall silent, exchanging a look of dread. The riolu moves back into her starting position and they begin again, quickly falling into their usual pattern of Nia going on the defensive and Tobias attacking non-stop.

“Neither of you can keep that up forever,” Val calls, not so much a hint as a command to switch it up.

Tobias huffs, irritation sparking in his belly. Fine. This isn’t working anyways, now that Nia’s getting into the groove and fending him off more successfully. Val thinks they need to branch out and try different styles of fighting? He’ll show her different.

Still trying to keep up the act of his usual fighting style, Tobias lets a weak smokescreen trail from the corners of his mouth. It’s subtle enough for Nia not to notice immediately, their little bubble of battlefield becoming hazier and harder to see through.

Well, for Nia at least. Tobias’ eyes are better for piercing through smoke, and he notices her movements becoming sloppier and more unsure as her visibility lowers. Tobias fakes a swipe, then darts out his other arm to bop the riolu’s sensitive ear. She yelps and steps back, shaking her head. Tobias takes his chance to step back, into the smoke and out of her field of vision, quietly moving behind her.

Once he’s in position, he lunges. Her ears swivel to his direction, and she spins towards him, eyes wide and arm reaching up to deflect him. For a moment he thinks he sees a flicker of familiar blue light, but then he’s slamming into her, the two of them rolling until he has her pinned to the ground again.

“Was that your aura?” He pants, frowning down at her.

She laughs, a little shaky as she tries to catch her breath. “I-It was supposed to be. Didn’t really do much, though.”

“Were you trying to attack?” Tobias asks, letting Nia up.

Her nose scrunches up into a puzzled expression. “Um, kinda? I guess I don’t really know what I was trying to do with it. I was just thinking about what you said about using aura for battles, so instead of keeping my aura, um…contained, I guess? I just kind of woke it up and, uh…let it do what it wanted?”

“You talk like it’s alive,” Tobias notes, frowning.

“I mean, it kind of is?” Nia asks more than states. “It’s like…my soul or something, right?”

Tobias shrugs, uncomfortable. “I guess.”

“Riolu,” Val calls out, interrupting. “This round, go on the offensive. Charmander, you are on the defensive. No leading the attack.”

Tobias and Nia both slump. Guess Val got tired of waiting for them to switch roles on their own agenda.

“This is dumb,” Tobias grumbles as he faces the riolu once again, falling into a defensive stance, wider and sturdier than usual. It feels unnatural.

Nia doesn’t look any happier. “I-I mean, Val knows best, right? It makes sense for us to mix up our fighting styles.”

Tobias snorts. “Sure.”

Nia ignores the sarcasm in his voice and hesitantly shifts into a stance that leaves her a bit more open than usual, a bit lighter on her feet. She looks just as uncomfortable with the unfamiliar fighting style as Tobias feels.

They wait, one beat. Two. Tobias arches a brow at her. “You going to attack sometime this week?”

“Y-Yeah! Just, uh. Give me a sec.”

After another beat of hesitation, Nia throws a sorry excuse for a punch, and Tobias easily bats it away. An equally weak kick follows, which he catches, yanking the riolu’s leg so her other foot slips and she falls hard on her back.

“What was that?” Tobias growls, glaring down at her. “Luca is a bigger threat and he’s eight.”

Nia sits up, looking uneasy. “It…I don’t wanna hit hard enough to actually hurt you.”

“Oh for—Nia, I can take a hit. You aren’t going all-out anyways! Just put some power behind your attacks!”

The riolu stands, looking torn.

“Did I go easy on you?” Tobias asks, impatient.

“W-Well, no. I don’t think so?”

“I didn’t, because you can handle it. You owe me the same respect. You actually have to try or neither of us are gonna get anywhere and this whole thing is useless.”

Nia looks back at him for a moment, brow furrowed, but Tobias can see the moment her expression hardens with resolve. “Right.”

She falls back into a fighting stance, a bit looser than her previous stiff posture, and Tobias mirrors her with a defensive stance. Quicker than he’s expecting, Nia lunges forward with a jab that Tobias barely manages to dodge. She follows with a kick that actually does catch him in the gut, and he staggers back, surprised. Nia hesitates, a flash of worry on her face, but he doesn’t let her overthink and goes on the counter-attack with a scratch combo. She yelps and wards him off with a messy block, using her forearms to bodily shove him away. She follows it up with a punch that Tobias dodges with a grin.

Finally, she’s actually fighting back! Tobias blows a cloud of smoke at Nia’s face. She ducks under the fake ember attack, sweeping out a leg to trip him up, then tackling him once he’s off-balance. The two go rolling, and Tobias barely manages to pin Nia this time. He relaxes, victorious taunt on his tongue, and Nia takes full advantage of his confidence.

In a flash she bunches her legs close to her chest and kicks him in the stomach hard enough to send him flying. Tobias lands hard on his back, caught off-guard and struggling to catch his breath. He blinks up at the high, root-twisted ceiling of the training floor.

Then Nia’s worried face pops into sight above him, blocking the bright sunlight pouring in from the openings in the walls. “Tobias! I’m so sorry, are you okay?! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I just got carried away a-and—”

“Shut up, I’m fine,” Tobias rasps, cutting her off to sit up with a slight wince.

Nia looks at him round, wet eyes, like she just punted a baby and not her sparring partner.

“For Entei’s sake, Nia, I’m not made of glass. This is literally the whole point of training.” Grudgingly, he admits, “That was a good hit.”

Nia’s concern is replaced by surprise. “Oh! R-Really?”

Tobias stands, forcing himself not to rub at his sore gut, and waves a hand to urge her to her own feet. “Yeah, but don’t count on it happening again.”

He puts just a smidge of cocky goading into his tone, and Nia rises to the bait, scrambling to her paws with a competitive grin playing at her lips. “We’ll see about that!”

Tobias and Nia face one another again, the riolu starting them off this time. Soon enough they’re back into the rhythm of the fight, trading blows and dodging around one another with increasing ease, and the charmander slowly realizes how annoyingly right Val and Azami have been for weeks now.

Sometimes, all-out attack doesn’t work best, especially when facing an opponent like Nia, who is particularly comfortable with taking the defensive and who is used to his full-frontal tactics. Each time they line up again to battle, Tobias finds himself leaning into his usual aggressive style, only to hit the wall that is Nia’s defenses and having to make up new ideas on the fly. Distracting her with his smoke, surprising her with a feinted move, trying to unbalance her wide-set stance, anything to chip away at her solid footing.

But each time he does, Nia shifts her own fighting style to match him. She’s definitely the more passive fighter of the two of them, but as their sparring continues he notices her adapting more and more to trying out a range of fighting tactics and styles. When Tobias goes aggressive, she goes defensive. When he decides to fall back and try distracting her, she adapts by closing the distance between them, upping her own assault until all he can focus on is fending her off. Despite her brutal kick earlier, Tobias can tell her hits are too light even in training—too weak, lacking that fighting type “power”—but he has to admit that she’s holding her own otherwise. She was apparently raised in a world where she never fought, so it’s a good sign that she’s catching on to the basics so quickly.

It’s not until the two of them break apart for a breath that Tobias realizes he’s grinning. He’s panting and steaming, blood roaring in his ears, his tail flaring bright and his muscles screaming for rest, but he feels…happy, with electricity in his veins and a bubble of something light in his chest.

He’s actually having fun with this.

He meets Nia’s eyes, and the riolu’s serious expression breaks into bright-eyed laughter. For a moment Tobias thinks she’s laughing at him—but no. She looks purely happy, like when she’s rambling to Maggie, paws gesturing wildly because she’s so excited she can’t contain her energy. She’s enjoying this as much as he is.

Before either of them can start again, Val’s voice cuts into their match. “Stop. Time for a break.”

Tobias relaxes, almost reluctant to stop but recognizing that his body needs some time to recuperate. He looks at the medicham’s face as she approaches. She seems...satisfied? Maybe? She’s annoyingly hard to read.

“Good,” Val says. “Riolu, you still hesitate to take advantage of openings in your opponents’ defenses, but you pick up techniques quickly once you pass that mental block. We will work on that.”

Nia nods, and Val turns to Tobias. “Charmander, you are strong and your combat skills are solid, but you still rely too heavily on one style of fighting. Learn to be more fluid and responsive to your opponents and you will be less predictable.”

Tobias swallows back a sharp retort and grunts an acknowledgement.

“Now, take a few minutes to rest. You have visitors.”

Tobias frowns, looking around and catching sight of a dainty green deerling and a sneasel waving at them from the sidelines of the arena. Oh. Great. He rolls his eyes and plops down where he is, but Nia stops, looking down at him hopefully.

“What?” He asks.

“Um. Do you wanna go say hi? Th-They’re really nice.”

“Not even a little bit,” he replies, flopping onto his back and allowing his tender muscles to relax. Nia just sighs in response, and he hears her footsteps pad away to go meet up with the two Pokémon.

The charmander closes his eyes and decides to take the time to stretch out his limbs, one at a time. Before he gets very far, though, he hears Nia call, “Tobias!”

He groans and turns his head her way, cracking an eye open. What does she want? The riolu is waving him over, smiling, and he glares at her in response. “What?” He calls, not wanting to move.

“C’mere for a sec!”

He closes his eyes again. “I’d rather not.”

“Andyn and Ezra brought snacks!”

Right on cue, Tobias’ traitorous stomach growls at the thought of food. Still, he doesn’t move. Is it really worth it?

“They have rawst berries,” Nia says in an almost sing-song tone.

Ugh. This is why he doesn’t want friends: they learn all of your weaknesses. Groaning dramatically, Tobias sits up, drags himself to his feet, and shuffles over to them. Nia’s smile looks suspiciously smug, but the other two Pokémon just seem surprised that he actually came over. He decides to ignore them.

“You’d better not be lying to me,” he grumbles to Nia.

The riolu laughs, shifting the little basket at her hip and showing a rawst berry sitting neatly on top. “Nope! Just as promised.”

Tobias grabs the berry and takes a bite out of it, appreciating the slightly bitter taste as it floods his tongue The deerling and the sneasel are still staring at him, so he glares back and snaps, “Do you always gawk like magikarp or is that pleasure only reserved for me?”

The sneasel holds up his clawed hands in a calming gesture, but the deerling puffs up with self-righteous fury. “You little punk, I—“

“Andyn!” The sneasel is quick to grab her shoulders as if to physically hold the little twig back. Nia shoots Tobias a scolding look. Oh, what, does their partner clause include him being nice to these idiots too?

Tobias finishes his rawst berry in record time and peers into the basket to see if there are any more. Nia holds it out to him, and while he digs through the different types, she speaks up again.

“Uh, s-sorry, he didn’t mean that—“

“I did,” Tobias says.

Andyn makes an angry noise in her throat. “Do you wanna fight or something, flame-brain?!”

Tobias levels her with a narrow-eyed glare. “Bring it, kindling.”

“Oh, gladly—“

“Okay!” Nia says loudly, stepping in front of Tobias to block him from the deerling’s view. The sneasel tries to do the same for his partner. “U-Uh, so you guys said you had something important to tell me?”

Tobias nibbles at his second rawst berry, debating on walking back to his previous spot on the ground. But after a few seconds the deerling bites back her anger and sighs. “Yeah. It’s, um...about you being human, actually.”

That news, along with the deerling’s unnerved tone, catches Tobias’ attention. The sneasel seems uncomfortable too. Worried, even?

Nia tilts her head, looking concerned. “What is it?”

“Well...” The deerling shifts on her hooves, exchanging a reluctant look with her partner. “We were pretty far out of the Haven the past few days for a mission. Y’know, the escort one we told you about? And um...we heard something from a traveling ‘mon we ran into out there.”

“And?” Nia presses.

The deerling shoots the sneasel a helpless look, and he picks up where she left off. “I guess he’s been traveling through some bigger cities pretty far from here, and we know you guys are planning on going to Ghatha this week, so. Uh.”

“Would you two just spit it out?” Tobias snaps. Nia doesn’t even give him a look for his tone.

“Well, he said that, uh...a couple Pokémon were really upset with the former humans. Like, a fight broke out and everything.”

Nia blinks, looking startled.

Tobias frowns. “You sure you weren’t talking to some spacey old 'mon like Hadley? Pokemon claiming to be humans have been around for decades, and there haven’t been any actual serious issues before. Just a lot of blame getting thrown around.”

“That we’ve heard of,“ the deerling points out, hardened gaze meeting his own. Her attention shifts back to Nia. “You said you were going to the city because of some...human meet-up thing, right? Like an organized one?”

Nia nods.

“The guy said that that’s what really riled everyone up,” The sneasel cuts in. “I guess that new human organization is causing some tensions between the humans and the rest of the Pokémon.”

“That’s stupid,” Tobias growls, crossing his arms. “Why would they go to the trouble of attacking each other just because the humans are setting up some dumb club?”

“Look, we’re just telling you what we heard,” the deerling snaps, glaring at him. Her gaze softens as she glances at Nia. “We were worried.”

For a moment, no one speaks. The deerling and the sneasel both seem convinced that this is something more serious than it probably is, and Nia looks to Tobias with wide eyes and pinned-back ears.

“So you haven’t heard anything about this before?” She asks him.

Tobias sighs, shaking his head. “No, but I haven’t traveled far from the guild in years. It’s possible, I guess.”

“Maybe you could ask August?” The sneasel proposes. “Surely since he’s the guildmaster he would know something about this.“

“You didn’t report it back to him?” Tobias asks, voice bordering on a growl.

Before the deerling can start shrieking again, the sneasel hurries to add, “Well, he’s out of the Haven right now, so we told Verene, but...”

“She wouldn’t be as likely to know,” Tobias guesses.

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t leaving for another few days, right?” The deerling asks Nia.

“I think we were planning to leave in about four days,” Nia replies, shooting Tobias an uncertain look. “So no.“

The deerling finally seems to relax. “Good. He should be back before then.”

“Would Maggie know anything?” The sneasel asks.

Tobias snorts. “Nah. She probably wouldn’t let Nia step foot outside of the guild if she did.”

The sneasel actually laughs at that. The deerling gives him a betrayed look.

Before the conversation can continue, Val calls out, “Five minutes!” Nia and the sneasel both jump.

The deerling shifts on her hooves, still not looking reassured. “Well, I guess we’d better get going. Just be careful, Nia.”

The sneasel nods, offering a playful smile. “Seriously. You get hurt and Andyn will go all the way to Ghatha herself to chew you a new one.”

“I’m going to chew you out either way if that scarf isn’t fixed next time I see you!” The deerling teases, nodding at the ill-fitting scarf around Nia’s neck. “I’m telling you, a bow is all the rage.” She flicks her ear, where her own pink bow rests.

Nia laughs, some of her tension rolling away. “I know, I know! You told me already! Thanks again for stopping by to let us know, guys. We’ll go see August about it tomorrow.” The riolu looks to Tobias, eyebrows raising encouragingly.

He stares back at her with a flat expression, taking another bite of his rawst berry. He’s not thanking them. He didn’t sign up to be friends with these two.

Nia sighs, then smiles again at the duo. “Thanks for the fruit. You guys be safe too, okay?”

And with that, the sneasel and the deerling head out of the training floor. Tobias finally finishes his second rawst berry, and Nia hurries to scarf down a sitrus berry before their break ends. When Val catches their attention a few minutes later with a loud clap, Nia tries to brush the berry juice off her paws and only looks dismayed when it makes her fur stickier. Tobias barks a laugh and revels in the pout she shoots him.

After that, Val has them continue their earlier mode of sparring for a while longer, reminding them to lean into the styles of fighting they’re less comfortable with and watching as they go through round after round, Tobias winning most but Nia catching him off-guard occasionally. Once or twice Val breaks up the battle in order to correct Nia’s form or demonstrate a new technique to Tobias, patiently answering the riolu’s endless questions and not commenting when Tobias gets frustrated, simply pointing out where he’s leaning his weight wrong or turning too sharply before prompting him to start again. The medicham annoys him, but he has to admit she knows what she’s doing when it comes to fighting, so he silently takes her advice and tries to incorporate it into the practice rounds that follow.

Tobias doesn’t know how long he and Nia spar until Val calls for them to stop, but judging from the late afternoon light filtering into the training floor, it’s been a while. Tobias and Nia both slump with exhaustion, breathing hard as Val walks over to them.

The medicham is holding a few things in her hands, and without a word she hands them over—a wooden thermos for Nia, and a small pouch of berries for Tobias. “I picked these up earlier. Hydrate and catch your breath.”

With that, Val sits cross-legged nearby and closes her eyes, apparently finished with the conversation. Nia sits down and unscrews the cap of her thermos with a curious look, making an excited noise at the discovery of water before tipping it back and taking huge gulps. Tobias snorts and sits as well, digging through the berries to pick out a yache berry before biting into the bright blue skin of it. It’s chilled on his tongue, slightly sour, but juicy and refreshing.

Nia finally lowers the drink with a gasp, chin wet from where she dripped water all over herself. Tobias gives her an openly judgmental look that the riolu misinterprets entirely.

“Oh! Sorry, here! I didn’t mean to hog it all for myself.” She offers the thermos to him, and Tobias leans away from the offering, curling his lip.

“I’d rather not deal with being nauseous all night, thanks.”

Nia blinks at him. “But…aren’t you thirsty?”

“I’m a fire type.”

“Oh.” Nia tilts her head and frowns at him. “Fire types don’t drink water?”

“Have you ever seen me drink anything?”

Nia thinks for a moment, then hesitantly shakes her head. “I…I guess not. I never noticed that before. But how do you stay hydrated? Surely you need some form of water in your system, but I know you don’t absorb it through your skin like a frog since water hurts you so—”

Tobias throws one of his berries at her to get her to shut up. “Why do you think I’m eating these?”

Nia picks the berry up, rolling it between her fingers and squinting at it. “Wait…These look familiar, but I don’t think I’ve eaten one before.”

“You’ve probably seen them on my tray in the cafeteria. They’re usually saved for the few Pokemon around the guild weak to water.”

Nia’s mouth drops open to a fascinated little “o.” “So these keep you hydrated?”

“A lot of different foods do, but yeah. Fire types don’t need a lot of hydration—we’re built for a lack of it. But I still need some greens and berries in my diet to get water in a way that won’t make me sick.”

Nia frowns. “So you can’t drink water at all?”

“I could,” Tobias says around a mouthful of juicy berry. “But I’d feel awful all day. Getting liquids through food doesn’t mess with my stomach the same way. Something about the other nutrients and stuff in it, I think.”

Nia looks absolutely enthralled by this information, still rolling the berry around in her palms. “That’s so cool!”

Tobias shrugs. He doesn’t really see what the big deal is, but he’s mostly used to the riolu’s strange overreactions by now. “’S just normal for us. And don’t ask me fifty questions about it because I don’t really know how it works.”

Nia nods, finally putting the berry aside to sip at her water. “I’ll talk to Alistair before we leave and see if he has any books about it in the archive.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Not like we don’t have enough stacks of books where we’re supposed to be sleeping. Also, eat that berry. I’m not going to after your grubby paws were all over it.”

Nia ignores the jab, apparently too excited about getting to try a new food. She stuffs the berry in her mouth without hesitation and her face lights up. “It’s super juicy! Like a watermelon or something!”

“Kinda the point,” Tobias drawls, finishing off another berry. Nia hums and sips at her drink again, paws tapping to some invisible beat as they rest.

After a few minutes, Val opens her eyes, turning to Nia. “Riolu.”

Nia jumps, startled out of her thoughts, “Y-Yes?”

“You attempted to use your aura earlier, when sparring with Tobias. Correct?”

Huh. So Val did catch that. He thought she’d missed the quick flash of blue in the midst of everything.

“Oh!” Nia sets the thermos aside. “Um, yeah. Tobias brought up using my aura in battle so I thought I’d try it, b-but I, um…wasn’t really sure what to do with it. I didn’t want to exhaust myself if it wasn’t even going to work, so I only tried it once.”

Val narrows her eyes at Nia, looking thoughtful. “Are you too exhausted to summon your aura right now? Do not lie.”

Tobias snorts at the subtle scolding, watching as Nia’s posture shrinks with guilt. Overworking her aura and trying to wave off her exhaustion in order to learn more about it sounds exactly like something she’d do.

“I-I’m tired and sore,” Nia admits. “But I could still do some aura stuff! I don’t feel sick or anything yet!”

Val doesn’t look convinced, but after a moment she does continue. “We will not be doing a full lesson on aura. You have done enough physical training for today. I only want to introduce a basic idea, so you can eventually use your aura to cover the blind spots left by your lack of moves.”

Nia perks up. “Wait, really?! Yes, please teach me!”

Val sighs, and for once Tobias relates to her. “We are only practicing this once. Understood? You may practice it on your own time, of course, but only after you have rested.”

Nia opens her mouth, probably to mindlessly agree, but Val cuts her off by looking at Tobias and adding, “Charmander will tell me if you do not follow this guideline.”

Tobias isn’t sure whether to growl at the medicham for implying that he’ll follow her orders or laugh at how Nia looks genuinely offended for needing a chaperone. But if Nia makes herself sick by overworking her aura, that’ll throw a wrench in their team’s development, so he should probably agree this one time.

“Sure,” Tobias says with a shrug, smirking as Nia gives him a betrayed expression.

Val nods and turns back to Nia. “Are we clear, Riolu? You are not to overwork your aura.”

Nia groans, outnumbered. “Fine. I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Now, summon your aura as you usually do.”

Nia nods, eagerly sitting up and holding a paw out in front of her. Almost immediately, a small turquoise flame flickers into existence in her palm. She’s getting a lot quicker at that. It’s strange, to think that according to these two that energy is somehow connected to Nia’s very being, to her soul. That it’s somehow the energy that keeps her alive, and not just an energy granted to her through her typing.

“As we cannot currently practice your moves, we will advance your aura training,” Val says. “The next step is to make your aura a physical, tangible force that you can use in battle, both to attack and defend.”

Nia, bathed in the blue glow of her aura, looks awestruck at the idea. “How do I do that?”

“Like most issues concerning your aura, it is a matter of willing your energy to form a specific way. You know how to summon it. Now you must make it change shape and solidify. Imagine what form you want it to take, how you want it to feel, and learn to balance how much energy is needed for both.”

Well, that sounds like a load of nonsense. Tobias finishes off his last berry and watches idly as Nia glares at the aura in her palm. Either Val’s words made a lot more sense to her or she’s just used to the medicham’s cryptic advice, because she doesn’t ask for clarification. After a few moments, the aura in Nia’s paw wavers, the shape of it twisting and folding into something shorter, more ball-shaped. Then, all at once the flame sputters out of sight and Nia doubles over with a gasp, like she’d been holding her breath.

Tobias shoots Val a questioning frown. The medicham doesn’t look worried, though, simply waiting for the riolu’s breathing to even out again.

Once it has and Nia sits back up, looking even more fatigued but not necessarily in pain, Val says, “That was a good start.”

Nia gives her a weak, skeptical smile. “Really? Felt like I didn’t do much.”

“You have had a long day of training,” Val assures. “And you are trying something entirely new. You will not understand how to do it immediately, but you will figure it out. You are a very fast learner in terms of aura.”

Nia seems stunned into silence, and Tobias can’t really blame her. For Val, that’s some seriously high praise.

Val stands before Nia can stutter out a response, apparently deeming the lesson over for the day. “Once you are rested, feel free to practice on your own. Focus on changing the shape of the aura, and on solidifying the consistency. Eventually, you will be able to use it to form weapons and shields at will.”

Nia nods as she stands, stumbling on her paws and catching herself on Tobias’ arm. He barely resists shaking her off as she steadies herself.

“R-Right!”

Val gives Nia another stern look, pointing a finger at her in a way that feels almost comical for the stoic medicham. “I repeat: do not take that as permission to overwork yourself. You must learn boundaries for your own body. Charmander—” she turns her look onto Tobias. “—You will keep her from overworking her aura, or you both will face punishment.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll make sure she doesn’t knock herself out.”

“Hey! I wouldn’t go that far,” Nia protests weakly.

Val ignores her. “In that case, you are both free to go. Tell Magnolia you did well today.”

Nia beams at the compliment, annoyance forgotten, and bows to the medicham. “Thank you, Val! Have a good night!”

Tobias hesitates, meeting Val’s dark gaze as his earlier frustrations with the medicham fight to resurface. He feels like he should still be angry with her for her stupid training decisions regarding Nia’s moves, but other than that she hasn’t been awful to work with today. Eventually he just gives her a nod before turning away and following Nia as they make their way out of the training floor. The riolu takes a brief detour to scoop up the tiny basket her friends had brought earlier, offering it to Tobias again. He picks a cheri berry out from the meager pile left and nibbles on it as they walk.

Nia tucks the basket against her hip, rolling her free arm and stretching out the muscles there. Then, with a too-casual note to her voice, she says, “So…you aren’t actually going to tell on me if I practice with my aura more tonight, right?”

Tobias snorts. “I will tell Val without an ounce of hesitation.”

“What?” Nia yelps. “Why?!”

“I’m positive Val has some other weird way of finding out if you overwork yourself on my watch, and I am not dealing with whatever punishment she has in mind if I let you go wild.”

Nia pouts. “I wish she’d be less serious about this. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone.”

“You’re hurting yourself, idiot,” Tobias points out. “And when is Val not serious? Look, as long as you don’t overwork yourself to exhaustion and don’t practice your creepy aura powers on me, I don’t really care.”

“They’re not creepy,” Nia objects half-heartedly, turning a curious look onto him. “Does the thought of me reading your aura really bother you that much? I noticed you didn’t seem big on it before, but…”

“If you aren’t exaggerating, you’re literally looking at someone’s soul. How is that not creepy? Did Xander’s freak-out not clue you in to that?”

Nia flinches and murmurs, “Please don’t bring that up.”

Tobias sighs. “It’s just…okay, yeah, for you it’s this cool power, but for someone who really doesn’t want to share the most private thing about them? It sounds terrible.”

Nia goes quiet as they drag their tired bodies up the stairs towards the medical floor, looking down at her paws with an upset expression. Tobias might feel a bit guilty if he didn’t think the riolu was a bit too lackadaisical with her aura reading abilities. Sure, maybe some Pokemon don’t mind sharing literally the most honest portrayal of who they are with Nia, but Tobias is not one of them. Even if he probably shouldn’t have used Xander against her like that, Tobias is relieved that someone else had a negative reaction to having their aura read so he can use them as an excuse. Sometimes you just don’t want other people to know you to such an intimate, vulnerable degree. Don’t want them to know how you really are.

And sometimes you don’t want to know yourself, either.

“Okay. I won’t do it without asking first.”

Tobias looks at Nia. “What?”

The riolu meets his gaze, voice and expression equally serious. “I won’t ever look at your aura without asking you for your permission first. I promise.”

Tobias feels like it’s stupid to take that at face value, but can’t really find it in himself to doubt the riolu at this point. She’s a terrible liar and lays her emotions out for everyone to see without a second thought. Plus, what can he even do to stop her if she wants to break that promise?

“Fine,” he sighs. “Again, I don’t care if you practice your aura when I’m around. It’d be good for you to have those abilities for battles. Just don’t use them to look at my aura.”

“I won’t,” Nia says, with another serious nod.

The two of them continue their slog up the tree, the heavy silence lightened somewhat. Tobias glances over when he sees Nia stretching out her arm again, extending it and bending it as if to work out some soreness. On closer inspection, Tobias realizes it’s the arm her bite wound is on from the outlaw. He frowns. “Did you hurt your arm again today?”

Nia shakes her head. “It’s fine. Just feels a little weird with the scabbing and everything. I’m still trying to get over how fast it sealed up, honestly. It’s only been like two days! Pokemon heal so quickly.”

“How long would it take for a human to heal from that bite?”

Nia hums thoughtfully. “It depends, really. But something this deep? I’d guess at least a week for it to scab over, maybe another two or three for it to fully close up. You’d probably need stitches, actually.”

Tobias gives her an incredulous look. “That long?”

Nia laughs. “Well, we don’t really pick fights as often as Pokémon do, so it kind of makes sense.” The riolu pauses, then adds, “I wonder if it’ll scar? Or if you’ll even be able to see it with my fur.”

Tobias shrugs, hand drifting up to feel the worn fabric of his own scarf. “If it does, you could always tie your scarf around it, like we did to stop the wound when it was bleeding everywhere.”

Nia doesn’t answer for a few moments, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think the scarring would bother me, but I do still need to figure out how to wear my scarf, since I think my neck is out of the equation.”

Tobias snorts and glances at the riolu. She’s fiddling with the scarf buried ridiculously deep in the fluffy collar of fur around her neck. “Yeah, anything is better than the disaster you’re sporting right now.”

“Way too much fluff,” Nia agrees. “I’ll try it out! Would you mind helping me tie it?”

Tobias’ immediate reaction is to not-so-politely decline, but he catches himself. Teamwork. Partners. They’re partners. It’s not like taking thirty seconds to help the riolu with her scarf each morning is going to set them back in any serious way.

He sighs. “You’re hopeless.”

“So...”

“I’ll help you tie the dang thing.”

Nia does a fist-pump with her uninjured arm. “Yes! Thank you!”

Tobias shakes his head, but he can’t manage actual irritation towards the riolu. If Nia finally starts wearing her scarf, they’ll look like an actual team. Real Seekers.

And he has to admit he likes the thought of that.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #riolu #charmander #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

134 notes · View notes

tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3

chapter list / previous / next

Tallkit had readily boasted about his future role as a tunneler to his nursery mates, but sitting in front of the elders den actually practicing the work now, somehow he had lost his enthusiasm.

He could hear Briarkit Shrewkit and all three of Mistmouse’s kits playing an elaborate game of rabbit hunt behind him.

“Why do I have to be the rabbit again?” He heard Shrewkit whine. “Make Briarkit do it!”

“Because you’re shorter and you're such a good rabbit.” Fallowkit teased.

“You’re faster than me anyway,” Briarkit offered.

Tallkit tried to block them out

“No Shrewkit’s right, make Ryekit the rabbit!” Fawnkit piped up. Their squabbling quickly turned into fits of giggles as their chase game turned into a wrestling match. Tallkit grunted with the effort of trying to push the large stone across the ground.

“Almost there! Just a bit further.” He grunted. Sandstone had suggested he start building up his strength by pushing stones. There’d be lots of rocks to unlodge in the tunnels when he got there.

The kit was so busy struggling he didn’t hear the light pawsteps of the cat approaching him until she was right behind him.

“Hey little kit, what are you up to?” came a bright voice.

Tallkit turned around to see a young golden tabby molly with friendly light amber eyes sitting over him. Her wispy fur was messy and windblown from the moor. Tallkit was surprised at suddenly being faced with the warrior, he racked his brain trying to remember her name. There were so many cats in his clan he still didn’t know.

“H-hi um, uh, Dawn…?”

Her whiskers twitched in an amused grin, “Dawnstripe, that’s right!” she cocked her head to one side, looking curiously at the large stone he was unsuccessfully trying to shove. “Why are you over here all by yourself instead of playing with your friends?”

Tallkit flopped back on his rump. “I’m trying to get better at pushing stones. This one's for the entrance of this den when its expansion gets finished.”

She blinked in confusion “That sounds like an apprentice chore. It can’t be much fun.”

“Life can’t be all fun,” Tallkit said seriously. “Tunneling is harder work, I have to be ready now, and I told Father I'd move three before he gets back at sun down!” Tallkit resumed pushing and grunting with the effort. “I’ve got one...already, I just...need this one!”

“You moved that stone? It’s nearly as big as you are!”

“Only because I’m so small,” he mumbled.

“That’s impressive, really.”

Talltail felt a surge of pride at the praise, but in the back of his mind he dimly remembered something about Dawnstripe being one the moor runners who had accidentally damaged one of his father’s tunnels. Would Father want me to be friendly with her?

“Have you been at it all morning?” she asked. Tallkit nodded. Dawnstripe hummed in thought “Tell you what...what if I help you, and then you’d get it done quicker?”

Tallkit looked back at her in confusion. “But I thought you were a moor runner? Moor runners don’t have to move heavy things.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help a clanmate out. That’s what being in a clan is all about, right?” she laughed and put a cream colored paw on his stone. He felt a rush of relief as the weight fighting against him instantly became lighter and the stone slid snuggly into place beside the first one.

He allowed himself a brief moment to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he huffed, “I can move the last one on my own.”

Tallkit had a feeling Sandstone wouldn’t be as impressed if he needed a moor runner to help move all the rocks for him. He had to do better.

Dawnstripe looked at him with some concern but all she said was “Well, I can’t fault your determination. Don’t let me get in your way.”

She sat back and watched him as Tallkit began shoving his weight against the last smooth stone, his small back paws scrambling in the dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dawnstripe pawing something across the dirt. She rolled up a dried ball of grass and was batting it from side to side. She caught his eye just for a moment, and Tallkit thought he saw a challenge sparkling in her gaze.

Tallkit tried to ignore it, but his instincts got the better of him as his eyes dilated. He really wanted to pounce on that ball. Wiggling his hind quarters he bounced off the stone and rolled into it, snagging it away from Dawnstripe and flinging it across the grass. He heard Dawnstripe’s laughter behind him as she reached out a paw to smack the tuft away. Tallkit dodged her blow and gripped it in his teeth, dancing out of reach.

“That was the fastest pounce I've ever seen!” she exclaimed. “If that ball was a mouse, you’d have caught it for sure. It’s too bad you won’t be a moor runner. I think you’d be really good at it.”

Tallkit dropped the toy and ducked his head sheepishly. “Really?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re just a kitten of many talents,” she purred. “WindClan’s awfully lucky to have you.”

Tallkit purred and curled his long tail over his paws. Then, Lilywhisker’s mreow from the watch point part way up the hill above camp made his large ears perk up. She was signaling a returning patrol.

Tallkit leaped up “Oh no! That might be Sandstone! I have to finish!” In his haste he shoved too hard and felt the muscle in his forepaw pull, making him slip to the side and face plant into the cold mud.

“Ow!” he squeaked as a stab of pain shot through his toes while he tried to shake the mud out of his nose and eyes.

Dawnstripe rushed forward to bend over him “What's the matter?”

Tallkit held up a paw “I bent my paw, I can’t see!” he mewled pathetically.

Dawnstripe reached out and lapped at his mud caked eye “Hey, it’s alright. Maybe you should take a break, I’m sure your father will understand.”

Tallkit wanted to wail. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted, that was so mouse-brained! Before he knew it, he caught his father's scent and heard his paws on the dusty ground.

“Tallkit? What in StarClan’s name is the matter?” He stopped when he saw Dawnstripe, his dark amber eyes narrowed slightly.

She sat up. “Nothing bad, I think he just bent his claw on the stone. Er, he was doing a really good job before.”

Sandstone gave her an odd look, and went to Tallkit’s side. “There son, you’re fine. You’ve just got a bit of mud on you.”

Tallkit didn’t know why he couldn’t stop whimpering. All the positive rush he’d gotten from Dawnstripes praise melted away like snow and all he felt was a wave of embarrassment flooding over him.

Dawnstripe cleared her throat carefully, “Not to intrude, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him work on this in his apprenticeship? I think he may be straining himself.”

Sandstone hardly acknowledged her. “I wouldn’t call it a strain, my father had me doing digging practice when I was younger than him. He’s not hurt, you know how kits can be. You did alright Tallkit, I’m sure you’ll get it next time with a bit more work.”

“I want Mother...” He mewled, his eyes too bleary to see clearly as he held his paw up off the ground.

Sandstone sighed. “Where in StarClan’s name is she anyway?”

“I think she’s in the nursery napping.” Dawnstripe replied.

“Again? I shouldn’t have to do both of our jobs! Come on now Tallkit, it was just a little fall.” He nudged his kit along with him and flicked his tail dismissively in Dawnstripe’s direction, who awkwardly stepped away. Tallkit tried to put his foot down but he stretched it out too fast and another jolt of pain shot up his foreleg, prompting another squeak of pain.

Right then, Palebird’s head popped out of the nursery entrance. She looked disoriented, clearly having just awoken, and upon hearing Tallkit’s wail she stopped dead in her tracks, fur bristling. Brackenwing nudging her from behind snapped her out of it and she rushed over to her kit and mate.

“Tallkit? Tallkit what happened, are you alright?”

Tallkit stumbled to her and buried his nose into her leg. “I was trying to push a stone and I bent my paw and it hurts!” He mewed as she began licking him. “And I got mud in my nose!”

Palebird started nudging him towards the nursery whispering encouragement to him. “It’s ok, you’re ok Tallkit, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

She didn’t look at Sandstone but he began padding after her, and whispered, “Palebird, I wish you wouldn’t let him wander alone so much when I’m not here. Tallkit needs his mother. Every time I turn around, you’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I thought he would be alright on his own for a while...I’ll be more careful.” She whispered back.

Tallkit just barely saw Brackenwing glare at his father and mumble something under her breath as she squeezed her way out of the nursery and slid by him.

“I’m sorry,” Tallkit whimpered to his mother, “I didn’t want to disturb you, I wanted to show you I could do it by myself.”

Palebird lay down with him between her paws and lapped at the mud on his face and muzzle.

“I’m sure you did very well.” Palebird murmured to him.

Sandstone poked his head in the nursery entrance “Don’t worry Tallkit, it will be easier when you're not practicing alone. Mistmouse’s kits are due for their apprentice ceremony any day now. Ryekit at least shows some promise and the patience required to learn. Palebird, when Tallkit’s apprenticed I thought you might like to help out with her training sometime. You could start asking about getting your own apprentice soon as well.”

Palebird looked up at her mate with a start and Tallkit felt her paw tense a bit around him “I don’t know...I don’t know that I'll be ready. I haven’t fully recovered.”

“It’s some moons away!” Sandstone insisted, “You’ll be better by then, then both you and Tallkit can get back into it together.”

Palebird didn’t respond, but she nodded and Sandstone pressed his nose to Palebird’s cheek and leaned down to swipe his tongue over Tallkit’s ears.

“See, you’re alright now, aren’t you?”

“I’ve only just got him cleaned.” Palebird fretted.

Sandstone nudged her playfully “Well you know what it’s like with us tunnelers,” he purred. “Cleaned up, and then it’s right back in the mud. He really was doing well, I can see I’m already rubbing off on him!”

Tallkit looked up. Did he really think so? He wanted so badly for that to be true. Tallkit pushed away from his mother and shook himself “I’m ok, Father,” he mewed bravely.

“‘Course you are, I knew a little fall like that wouldn’t put you off. One day, the three of us are going to take this clan by storm! There will be no earth we can’t dig through, nothing that will keep us down.” He glanced up at Palebird and was silent for a heartbeat, then said to Tallkit, “Tallkit, I’ll be out to collect you in a moment. Why don’t you go find Lilywhisker or some other cat for a bit?”

Tallkit took the cue that meant his parents were having a talk that he wasn’t a part of. He backed back out of the nursery, but wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to go back to the stone, and he might just embarrass himself again. He couldn’t help worrying that hurting himself might have made his mother and father upset at each other. Before Tallkit could decide to try at the rocks again, Briarkit was calling him over. He looked from his friends to the nursery. He really didn’t want to worry about the rock anymore. Surely a few spare moments couldn’t hurt.

***

Tallkit willed his paws to move faster and faster as he whisked around the edge of the flattened grassy hollow of camp. He nosed ahead of Briarkit, feeling the cool afternoon air rushing through his whiskers. Shrewkit was inches in front of him. I’m gaining on him! Tallkit’s long tail whipped behind him in excitement. He cleared the small hurtle of stones and heard Shrewkit’s outraged growl as he nosed ahead by a mouse-tail, followed by a yelp as the brown tom tripped over a stone and stumbled. Tallkit didn’t look behind him as he turned the corner, leaping over the broken birch stick that marked their starting point. Before he’d skidded to a halt, Shrewkit crashed into him from behind, sending them both sprawling across the grass.

“Oof, close call! What do you think, Rye?” Fallowkit chirped from where the three bigger kits watched. The brown spotted twins, Fallowkit and Fawnkit, stood tall on the rock that marked the finish line, while their dusty gray tabby sister Ryekit sat to the side, patiently waiting. They’d all gotten there long before the younger kits, but with Fallowkit and Fawnkit gaining on the size of full grown cats, that was to be expected. Tallkit had only wanted to beat one cat in that race.

“I think it’s pretty obvious Tallkit won that one, if only by a mouse length.” Ryekit replied in her usual dry tone.

“Who could have guessed it? What a development!” Fawnkit crowed dramatically.

Shrewkit lashed his tail as Briarkit trotted to a more careful stop, having already accepted defeat and slowed down several paces back.

“It’s only ‘cause I tripped! I would have won!” Shrewkit growled.

“That is the point of the course we set up. To run and not trip.” Briarkit pointed out.

Tallkit was too proud to be bothered by Shrewkit’s gripes. Who cared about technicalities? Over a moon younger than the moor runner kits, and still faster than them both.

“That was a pretty impressive jump, Tallkit.” Ryekit said. Tallkit puffed out his chest in pride. A kitten of many talents, he remembered Dawnstripe saying with a purr of satisfaction. They had shortened the course a bit for him, but that didn’t matter to him right now.

“Thanks!” He huffed, still trying to get his breath back.

Shrewkit sniffed indignantly, “I still don’t think it should count.”

Fawnkit jumped down from where he’d sat atop the small rock pile. “None of this really matters, because I’m the one who actually won anyway.”

Fallowkit swatted him on the head lightly. “We clearly tied, mouse-brain!”

“Uh, no we didn’t, I’m pretty sure my nose crossed the stick first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stretching out your neck doesn’t count! It’s not going to help you outrun the rabbits!”

“It’s not as if we can chase any real rabbits to know for sure.” Tallkit pointed out. “Just ‘cause you're bigger doesn’t mean you’re allowed to leave camp.”

Fallowkit grinned at him over her shoulder “Not for long, tiny!”

Fawnkit nodded enthusiastically. “We may very well be on the moor by sunhigh tomorrow!”

Tallkit’s mouth hung open “What? You mean you're already having your ceremony? That’s not fair!”

“Is too! Mother says this full moon will be our sixth.” Fallowkit said.

It was hard to imagine Fallowkit Fawnkit and Ryekit never sleeping in the nursery again. He’d gotten so used to things as they were. But he couldn’t deny it had gotten crowded. They towered above him and the other kits, and were even taller than their small mother.

“Lucky!” Shrewkit grumbled. “I can’t wait to not be in the nursery anymore. I want to race for real on the moor!”

Tallkit started to agree before he remembered he wouldn’t be racing on the moor. He would start his apprenticeship learning the basics of tunneling. He felt a pang of sadness that he wouldn’t be able to really test his skills against Shrewkit, and surely wouldn’t hold this victory over him for long. Once he starts his moor runner training, he’ll be faster for sure, he thought glumly, then instantly felt silly for thinking it. It didn’t matter if Shrewkit was faster when tunneling was more important.

Briarkit padded up and sat next to Tallkit. “But aren’t at least some of you going to train as tunnelers?”

“Yeah,” Tallkit agreed, ears perked in renewed excitement. “Since Mistmouse is a tunneler, right? Do you know who it will be yet?”

The three kits looked at each other before Fawnkit said, “Well, if it’s any of us, it will probably be Ryekit.”

Fallowkit nodded in agreement.

“What!? Why me, when did you decide that?” Ryekit exclaimed, her ears set back in indignation.

“Well see, me and Fallowkit are taller.” Fawnkit pointed out.

“What’s that got to do with it? Appledawn isn’t very tall and she’s a moor runner!”

“Yeah but she didn’t have competition. When it comes down to it, legs matter for running,” Fallowkit said matter of factly.

“And you’ve got kitten legs!” Fawnkit giggled.

“My father thinks you could be good at tunneling,” Tallkit interjected before Ryekit could pummel her brother. “It’s really important work.”

Shrewkit rolled his eyes. “Here we go. We already heard this lecture from Whitetooth!”

“It’s true!” Tallkit insisted.

Ryekit sighed. “I know it is, but I just don’t think I’d have much fun tunneling. It feels so cramped, and I can’t imagine not being able to use my eyes.”

Tallkit couldn’t think of an argument to that.

“Well, we don’t know for sure who it will be.” Briarkit offered encouragingly “The council hasn’t decided yet. Either way, I’m sure it’s something you learn to love. Your mother likes it, doesn’t she?”

“We haven’t heard anything about us tunneling before now! Honestly, Mother hasn’t talked about it in ages.” Ryekit said.

“She always seems a little weird about it,” Fallowkit agreed. “I’ve only heard her talk about it with auntie Meadowbreeze, something about a Leafshine, and then she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Who’s Leafshine? Is that another warrior I haven’t learned the name of yet?” Tallkit asked.

“I’m not sure,” Ryekit said. “We didn’t ask. Mother always changes the subject away from tunneling after that.”

Tallkit was surprised to hear that. Sandstone talked to him about tunneling all the time. He would have thought that Mistmouse would be excited to share it with her kits as well. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know that Mistmouse was a tunneler for the longest time. I don’t hear her talk about it either... Who was Leafshine and why would they have anything to do with whether Mistmouse’s kits learned to tunnel? Maybe Sandstone would know. If Ryekit was going to tunnel, he wanted to know how to encourage her.

Tallkit had met all of the tunnelers often enough by now to know Mistmouse’s sister Meadowbreeze wasn’t one of them, so maybe it made sense some of her kits would be good at moor running instead, but Mistmouse had to know how important the tunneler legacy was. One of them would follow in her pawsteps, and the thought of getting to train with one of them brightened his mood. It would be less pressure to train with another cat. He liked the older kits, and couldn’t help but admire them, even if Fawnkit was a bit of a show off and Fallowkit was a little rough when she played. They were still fun to be around. And Ryekit was level headed and always nice to him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he got to train with her. It struck him as a bit annoying that the other kits were talking about tunneling like a bad chore you had to make yourself do, rather than with the excitement that they talked about moor running. But I don’t even really blame them…It seems like exhausting work.

“Enough about tunneling already!” Shrewkit whined, “I said I wanted a rematch! There’s no way a tunnel-kit is faster than me!”

Tallkit’s long tail flicked with irritation. He’d barely gotten through the course the first time without running out of breath, was Shrewkit really able to do it again already?

“Just accept that you lost!” Tallkit argued, sticking his nose in the air.

“I’ll show you lost” Shrewkit retorted with a playful growl in his voice. He shoved into Tallkit, sending him rolling backwards.

“Ouch! Hey!” he cried as he rolled and thudded into something, immediately scrambling up to glare at the laughing moor-kit.

“Be on your toes! I could have been an enemy, Wormkit!” Shrewkit said.

Tallkit stuck out his tongue while the other kits stifled laughter. He looked up to see what he’d rolled into. His breath caught when he saw the WindClan leader staring down at him. He leapt up clumsily and quickly dipped his head to Heatherstar. How could he not have noticed her nearby? Had she been watching them the whole time?

“U-um, I’m sorry--” he squeaked.

Heatherstar eyed him quietly, her expression difficult to read when Tallkit stole a glance upward. She didn’t look angry.

“No harm done, kit. Be mindful of where you put your paws,” she said. “Congratulations on your race. You’re fast for such a young kit.”

Tallkit had hardly registered the compliment when Heatherstar turned and padded away on silent paws. He let out a breath and whipped around to Shrewkit again. “You did that on purpose!” he hissed.

Shrewkit shrugged innocently “Well, watch where you put your paws!”

Tallkit glanced back to see where Heatherstar was going. To his surprise, he saw her headed towards the nursery. Without thinking much about it, he started padding quietly after her while the other kits continued squabbling about how to make a more fair race course. Tallkit heard his parents' voices quietly from inside the den. Before Heatherstar could announce herself, Sandstone peeked out and looked up at her impassively.

“Is there something we can help you with?” he asked, his tone neutral, but Tallkit knew his father well enough to know he wasn’t happy to see their leader.

“I came to visit an old apprentice is all. I wanted to see how she was doing. Hawkheart tells me she’s ill?”

“She’s doing better really,” he said, but after a brief pause he stepped out of her way. “But go ahead, if you wish.”

Heatherstar walked past him and Sandstone hesitated at the nursery entrance as if he wanted to go back in, but eventually shook his head and turned away. Tallkit padded up to him and his father brightened up instantly as he saw his kit, though his tail still flicked with subtle irritation.

“Is Mother really sick?” Tallkit asked quietly. “Is that why she’s so tired all the time? Is she going to be ok?”

Sandstone gave the nursery a withering look and sighed. “She’s had a hard time since her kitting, but she’ll be alright. It’s not the serious kind of illness. Now you go and play, unfortunately I’ll have matters to attend to today.”

“Wait--” Tallkit called, remembering his earlier conversation with Ryekit. “Do you know who Leafshine is?”

Sandstone blinked at him. “Leafshine? That’s just the name of an old warrior. She went to join StarClan several moons back, not a cat you’ve ever met. It’s not someone you need to worry about. Like I said, I have matters to attend to, so I have to be on my way.”

With that, Sandstone padded away before Tallkit could ask anything more.

chapter list / previous / next

#FRU3 #chapter 3 #last post dump for now

25 notes · View notes

onlysarah235678 · 3 years

Text

A Little Bit Part 10

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Hi! So I know I didn’t rate this fic, but from here on out it will be M. There are definitely M-rated things discussed here, so keep that in mind…Thank you again to illuminated-blue for the gif and for talking me down :) As always, enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of nsfw activities, dog-related stress (possibly??) and slight nsfw conversations.

You’re woken up around 3 in the morning when Billie returns to bed. You don’t react immediately because you are exhausted and can barely open your eyes enough to see the medium settle back in beside you. You grumble something under your breath that is barely coherent.

“’s everythin’ okay?”

Billie just smiles as she gets underneath the covers and nods in answer. Not that you see it.

“Yes, I was just checking on the kittens and Milo.”

You nod before you hum in answer. You’re too tired to form any words so instead you just shift closer to Billie. You’re freezing because you don’t have your standard three blankets in bed with you, but you’re not going to complain about the substitute. You sigh as arms wrap around you and you’re pulled closer to the warm body you’d spent the night learning. The thought makes you smile and because of how you’re lying against her, Billie sees it immediately.

“What is it?”

You hear the amusement in her voice and that makes you smile wider, but you don’t say anything. There’s too much on your mind, and it’s too much to say for so early in the morning so you wait. You just shake your head before moving impossibly closer in an attempt to get more comfortable. You stifle a yawn as you close your eyes again to go back to sleep.

Billie just smiles and decides to wait until morning, or rather later this morning to talk about whatever is on your mind. She sighs as she closes her eyes as well. She had gone to check on the kittens and Milo, and everyone was fine, but she’d also had a cigarette. She usually did after nights like these, but she hadn’t wanted to wake you up with the smell. She was feeling a little more relaxed already though. She just couldn’t resist the cravings sometimes, and she always craved one after sex.

Billie falls asleep thinking of the next time she’ll get to see you like that. The thought of you falling apart beneath her makes her smirk, and she holds you a little tighter as she succumbs to sleep.

The next time you wake up you’re feeling a little more human. You yawn as you roll over to see that the sun is shining and that Billie is still asleep next to you. You smile before you look around for your phone to check and see what time it is.

“Good morning.”

You turn back from your search through your clothes to see Billie watching you. You resist the urge to blush as you finally find you phone underneath your pants. You switch it on absentmindedly as you move back to the bed to plant a quick kiss on Billie’s lips.

“Good morning. How long have you been up?”

She shrugs as you pull away before mentioning that she woke up not long after you. She smiles as she takes in your appearance. You are wonderfully underdressed and your bedhead is as messy as she’d imagined it. You nod at her response before glancing down at your phone only to curse.

“Oh shit! It’s already 7:15!”

It takes Billie a minute to wonder why you’re freaking out, but then she remembers that you work today. She watches as you frantically get dressed before getting up herself. She figures that once she checks on the cats, she can help you by feeding and walking Milo. She gets dressed too before watching as you look around the room before spotting the bathroom.

“Can I use your bathroom to-uh wash up?”

Billie just nods and watches you disappear into the bathroom. She hears the water start running before she finishes getting dressed and leaves to check on the kittens. As she walks down the hall, she takes a moment to appreciate how sore she is. Her back aches more than she thought it would, but she can’t find it in her to care. Billie’s still smiling at the memories of last night when she pushes the laundry room door open.

She didn’t realized that it wasn’t all the way closed until she goes to look at the kittens. Bit is curled up around them and everything seems fine. Billie gets on her knees to take a closer look at the sea of fur and immediately sighs in defeat.

Where was Mickey?

You’re doing your best to hurry as you try to clean up. You’re annoyingly sore and are moving slower as a result, but damn it you’d do it all over again. In fact, you really wanted to and you mentally kick yourself for not saying something to this effect to Billie sooner. However, after realizing that you were probably going to be late to work, not to mention wearing the same clothes as yesterday, you just panicked.

You’re still panicking a little as you finish up and head out into the bedroom. You couldn’t find a brush so you’re running your fingers through your hair quickly when you hear Billie call you.

“Y/N!”

You hurry out of the room and toward the sound of Billie’s voice. She sounds worried and it isn’t until you find her standing on the stairs that you realize why. You look between her and Milo who is just in the living room licking his paws.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Billie doesn’t say anything immediately as she stares at Milo, but when you start down the stairs her voice makes you turn back to her.

“I think Milo has Mickey.”

You see how Billie is still tense as she follows you down the stairs and you look back to Milo before putting it together. Oh.

You hurry down the stairs but then slow when Milo sees you. He’s not licking his paws like you originally thought. He’s licking Mickey who is somehow down here with him. You weren’t sure if Milo had gone upstairs or if Mickey had been dropped off by Bit at some point.

Figuring this out wasn’t important though. The first thing you needed to do was get Mickey back. You smile as you greet your dog watching as he starts to wag his tail.

“Hi Milo! Do you want to go on a walk?”

Milo’s tail wags harder but he doesn’t get up like he usually would. You keep walking closer until Milo’s tail slows and he’s eyeing you carefully. You’re not sure where Billie is, but hopefully she’s stopped moving as well. You think about sitting down, but then remember you may not be as quick to get up as you usually are. Instead, you keep smiling before looking to Mickey to try and see how he’s doing.

“Who’s your friend? Did you go upstairs to get Mickey?”

Milo doesn’t answer of course, but he goes back to licking the kitten again. You hear it mewl and you breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, so he’s alive. That’s a good start.

“Can I see your friend?”

Milo just keeps licking Mickey, but he watches you out of the corner of his eye as you move closer. You finally decide to sit down and have to hold in a groan when your sore muscles protest.

You carefully reach out to pet Milo and he stops what he’s doing to look at you. You scratch Milo behind his ear before moving a little closer. Milo doesn’t respond except to wag his tail and you feel a little optimistic, but still refuse to rush things.

You’re not sure how Milo will react to you just taking Mickey. If you had to guess, Bit dropped him off down here and Milo took it upon himself to watch over him. He’d clearly been interested in the kitten last night, but his desire for food had won out. Now he had a new friend, hopefully not toy, and didn’t want to give him up.

This is what you told yourself as you looked back to Mickey and held out a hand to Milo so he could see it.

“Will you let me see him? Can I have him, Milo?”

Milo just sniffs your hand before looking back down to Mickey. You actually sigh in relief when Milo just pushes Mickey towards you with his nose. You reach out for him quickly after that, your hand not leaving Milo as you scratch him with a smile.

“Good boy, Milo. Thank you.”

He just wags his tail as you stand up and hand Mickey to Billie who as you expected was standing right behind you. You watch as she takes him and immediately looks him over. He’s warm and a little wet from Milo’s tongue but he seems fine. He’s sleepy and probably a little annoyed about being taken from his warm furry friend.

“Thank god.”

You nod in agreement before apologizing. You feel like this is your fault. You should have known better than to leave Milo unattended with a house full of kittens.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left him here alone. I didn’t think he’d go after any of them.”

Billie just sighs after she reassures herself that Mickey is fine before shaking her head. She doesn’t blame you for this. She was the one who probably forgot to shut the door this morning after checking on them. Still her heart rate is just slowing after the stress of not knowing what to expect. Milo was clearly a good guard dog, but luckily he was smart enough to know who he could trust with his people. For the most part.

“It’s okay it was my fault, and he’s fine. Milo’s a good boy, hmm?”

Billie’s looking to Milo who is now standing right beside you. His tail is wagging and he’s panting as he just watches the two of you. He also knows that it’s past his breakfast time.

“Do you need any help getting ready for work?”

Billie’s question reminds you that you’re running late and you jump into action. You shake your head before mentioning that you need to walk Milo, but you’ll probably just feed him at work since you don’t have any of his food with you. You also definitely need to run home and shower and change clothes. You will definitely be late for work though if you don’t leave right now.

That said, you really don’t want to and even after you’ve grabbed Milo’s leash and your keys you don’t hurry to leave. You turn to Billie who is just standing by with an amused look. You sigh ignoring Milo’s whines as you walk back toward Billie with a smile.

“I’m sorry I have to leave so quickly. I had an amazing time.”

Billie merely smiles as she leans in to kiss you, and you sigh as you feel your resolve crack. You would love nothing more than to just spend the day with Billie here, or wherever she wanted. Unfortunately, you had work in about 40 minutes, and you were most definitely going to be late.

“I did too, Y/N, we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

You smile widely at your ridiculous words coming out of Billie’s mouth, and you can’t help but kiss her again. It isn’t until Milo barks to get your attention that you realize it’s time to go. You sigh as Billie just looks to Milo before reaching out to scratch him. He’s adorable and Billie’s grateful that he’s such a good dog. However, he’s right and it’s time for the two of you to go. Billie kisses your cheek before pulling back with a smile.

“You better get going if you don’t want to be late.”

You know it’s too late for that, but you just smile before nodding in defeat. You grab your coat not bothering to put it on before you attach Milo’s leash to his harness.

“I’ll see you soon, Billie Dean.”

You watch as your beautiful girlfriend blushes before you and Milo duck out the front door.

You were right. You were late for work. Almost 20 minutes late, but luckily you were just in time for the first appointment. You apologized profusely to Dr. Hahn who only laughed and told you that she was glad that she didn’t have to be in two places at once today.

After racing home and feeding Milo, you’d jumped in the shower and taken the shortest one of your life. Your hair was still soaking by the time you got in the car, but at every stoplight you had a chance to become a little more presentable. You were almost a doctor again by the time you walked into the building with Milo by your side. The only issue was that you’d forgotten your whitecoat at home and the only one you had here was filthy.

Luckily you didn’t really need it today since your ‘boss’ wasn’t here and she was the only one who insisted you wear it. You run up to your office, a little slower than usual, to grab your stethoscope before you fix your hair as you head back down the hall. You pause as you pass the bathroom, and you do a double take when you see a hickey you’d missed behind your ear in the mirror. You curse before running in and closing the door behind you. You examine the mark and almost groan out loud because damn it now you have to wear your hair down all day.

You sigh before dropping your hair back to your shoulders and heading out. You nearly run into Mina who was walking by with the drug box and you both almost tumble down the stairs.

“Woah, watch out, doc.”

“Sorry, Mina. I’m a little--.”

What? What were you?

Well, you knew the answer to that, but you couldn’t exactly tell your technician that you were off your game because you’d spent the better part of last night having mind-numbing sex that also made walking difficult. There was no way she wanted to know all of that. Instead you just sighed before following her down the stairs to get the day started.

“I get it, Dr. Y/L/N. It’s way too early to be up on a Saturday.”

You don’t realize how painfully naïve you were until a few minutes before you take your lunch. You had been relieved that the morning appointments weren’t so bad. They were mostly easy problem visits that didn’t take too much time or thought. You’d honestly spent most of the morning thinking about and texting Billie every chance you got.

It was for this reason that you realized what you and maybe Billie, had overlooked when you’d run out of her house this morning.

Mason was thrilled. After being demoted, basically fired, for failing to get an exclusive on Billie Dean Howard’s new girlfriend, he’d promised himself that he would be earn his job back. He was determined to get an editor position and he was going to do whatever it took.

Luckily, it hadn’t taken much to get him what he needed. He just had to follow that vet around for almost a week before she went to Billie’s house last night. He’d been far enough away that he wouldn’t be spotted. He’d parked with a bunch of other cars to blend in and he’d seen Y/N walking her dog again around 11.

He had mostly just waited around until morning came. All he needed was a shot of you leaving her house in the same clothes, and to give it to his boss. He had gotten that and so much more. Now he had a new office and a job for the next three years if he could continue to get pictures like this.

The first was the basic walk of shame. Y/N was leaving with her dog in the same clothes she’d arrived in, but looking worse for wear. She looked frazzled, exhausted and thoroughly debauched as she hurried to her car and back home. This would have been enough to get Mason his job back, but he probably wouldn’t have been guaranteed a three-year contract if it weren’t for the video he’d gotten.

They couldn’t use it of course because he’d crept into the medium’s backyard to take it, but it was enough to show his boss that he was serious. He would do whatever it takes, and with his second chance he was going to figure out how to ruin that vet who cost him his job in the first place.

Billie’s doing chores around the house when she gets a text message from Michelle. They usually exchange a few over the weekend to discuss the upcoming week, but this isn’t that. She retreats from the noise of the laundry room to check her phone, but she doesn’t get far before she realizes what she’s looking at.

Jeff sent me this. It was released about 10 minutes ago.

Billie clicked on the link and wasn’t surprised when it took her to a trashy tabloid that…She scrolled down and saw the title and the picture at the same time.

Medium Billie Dean Howard’s New Flame Takes the Walk of Shame.

The picture was taken as Y/N was leaving this morning and Billie groans under her breath at the fact that their luck was this bad. They had agreed to come out during Billie’s interview next week, but this made that just a formality at this point. It was already confirmed, this picture was worth far more than anything Billie could say and she just copied the link and sent it to you in a text.

You were trying to decide where to go for lunch when Billie’s text came in. You smiled until you recognized one of the tabloids in the URL. You waited for a few seconds hoping to summon the courage to open it before you just clicked on it and closed your eyes.

It was maybe twenty seconds later that you opened them again and nearly screamed.

There you were. It was a picture of you and Milo fleeing Billie’s house like it was on fire. You groaned loudly and slammed your head on the desk before you managed to look at it again.

Well, at least Milo looked good.

Billie had expected you to call, so her phone ringing a few minutes later wasn’t much of a surprise. She answered immediately and smiled despite the news she’d just shared with you.

“Hi Y/N.”

You sigh before you smile in defeat. You can’t bring yourself to be in too bad of a mood after the night you had, so you just spin around in your chair as you ask her the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hi, Billie. How are you doing?”

You hear Billie chuckle as she takes a drag before shaking her head at your tone. You don’t seem very bothered by the news, but you had been at work all day and maybe just hadn’t left the building yet, or looked outside.

“I’m great. How has your morning been so far?”

You laugh without meaning to and you don’t realize that Billie could have taken it the wrong way until she doesn’t respond immediately.

“Oh, it’s been great. Not too busy which is good since I’ve been playing catch up since I got here so late.”

You’re staring at the flowers that you still had sitting on your desk in silence for a few seconds before your words catch up with you. You curse yourself before sitting up and turning away from them with a sigh.

“Not that I’m complaining. I’d be late everyday if I didn’t, you know, risk losing my job to spend time with you.”

Billie just smiles before considering what you were saying. She knew you were a sweet talker, but you had yet to say anything you didn’t mean. She decided to tuck this away for now before focusing on the matter at hand. There wasn’t a lot of time to figure out how to deal with this.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know what you meant. I hope you didn’t get in trouble.”

You smile before shaking your head and telling Billie what the other doctor had told you. You also mention how you’d forgotten your coat in the mad dash for work and that you’re still not able to put your hair up. Billie definitely laughs at this last one, not that she feels guilty. Not one bit.

“Sorry about that, dear.”

This time you laugh louder as you roll your eyes in disbelief. You can hear how sorry Billie is from the amused lit in her voice.

“I bet you are.”

You allow your mind to wander to when Billie had made those marks and you feel your face heat up. You realize that you’re definitely not regretting that Billie had put them there. You don’t realize that you groan under your breath until you hear Billie chuckle under hers. Your eyes open and you cross your legs as you sit up. The sound of that laugh takes you back to being in Billie’s bedroom, and your heartrate and need spike instantly.

You shake your head as you try to stop thinking about this, but you don’t do very well because Billie is speaking again. You learned early last night what exactly her voice could do to you.

“Y/N? Are you still there?”

You nod before saying the first thing that comes to mind, and honestly you should have just moaned. That would have been less embarrassing you think. You actually smack yourself in the face before you roll your chair closer to your desk so your face is practically in the flowers. The smell distracts you from your mortifying behavior. At least for a little while.

“Yeah, I’m coming, I mean I’m here! I’m just—ugh. I need a drink.”

You ignore the sound of Billie laughing heartily through the phone as you bury your face further in to the flowers. They start to poke you in the eyes and you groan again before trying to focus on food. You need to eat lunch after all.

“Well, I’m sure I can help with that. Just not right now.”

You feel your face flush even more as you nod in agreement. You definitely can’t do anything about your growing need now. At work. You have to eat lunch and then get back to it. You try to calm yourself down to think this through. Lunch. That’s easy. You’ll get-.

“Have you looked outside yet?”

You frown at Billie’s question as it interrupts your thoughts of food. You look out the window that shows very little of the outside that Billie is talking about. It’s sunny. Is that what she meant?

“Um yes? It’s nice out.”

Billie almost sighed because clearly you didn’t know what she was talking about. She didn’t want to ruin your day, well any more than she already had, but she wanted to give you a heads up in case she was right about this.

“No, Y/N. I meant have you checked the parking lot. Are there any reporters out there?”

Of course, this is what she’d meant. You stand up and walk down the hall to the conference room that has a perfect view of the parking lot. At first you just see the cars you’d expect to see, but then you remember it’s lunchtime. There shouldn’t be that many cars out there. You sigh loudly enough for Billie to hear you before returning to your office.

“So much for lunch. I guess I should just wait it out?”

Billie says something in response, but you don’t hear it as someone calls you from downstairs. You sigh before trying to listen for your name again to make sure you aren’t mistaken,

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

You stand up before telling Billie that you’ll be right back, but someone’s in front of you the moment you leave your office.

“Sorry, Billie, one second.”

You nearly step on Erin’s foot as you start down the hallway to see who was calling you. You stopped short and nearly cursed as the brunette shoots you an apologetic look.

“Sh-.”

“Sorry! I was just going out to grab lunch, but I wanted to see if you wanted something?”

You stare at Erin’s anxious expression before you realize that she knows. Well, you knew that she was aware of your relationship on some level, but you hadn’t expected her to know all of it. At least what had happened this morning. It seemed too early for her to know about that, but you supposed it was on the internet. You fight the urge to blush furiously at that possibility before you manage to ask Erin where she’s going. When she promises to get you something you hear a faint voice that reminds you that Billie is still waiting,

You return to your office and sit down with a sigh. This time you close the door before asking Billie what she’d just said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Billie is smiling as she thinks about the assistant you’d mentioned multiple times. She was glad that someone at work was looking out for you.

“I was just saying that it was sweet of her to do that.”

You nod in agreement as you think about how Erin really did just save you from having to either starve or face the cameras. You weren’t ready for that today. You had just committed to publicly confirming your relationship with Billie and you wanted to bask in it for a while before having to deal with the reporters. You wanted to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

Without your permission your mind wanders back to the events of last night, and you have to sit up and shake your head vigorously to stop those thoughts in their tracks.

“Um any plans for the rest of the day?”

Billie smiles as you ask this. She’s currently sitting at the kitchen table looking out at the garden as she smokes another cigarette. This was her third since she’s seen you, and that was a lot considering how she’d cut back because of the cats. She just couldn’t relax any other way right now. Not with you at work.

“Nothing really, I’m just doing some chores and sitting around.”

You smile at the thought of Billie sitting around her house with Mickey. You ask her if he’s in her lap, but she says that she left him upstairs with Bit for the time being. You didn’t ask why as she told you exactly what she was doing. She was probably going to check on her garden if she could find the motivation, but right now she was too lost in thought to make herself do it

You were playing with some of the petals that had fallen off the roses when Billie says this. You ask almost absentmindedly as you sniff them with a sigh.

“What has you so lost in thought on a Saturday?”

You don’t realize what you’re asking until Billie doesn’t answer immediately. You hear her take a drag of her cigarette before she responds with a smile. She so loves it when you walk into her carefully laid traps.

“I was just thinking about what a good girl you were last night.”

You drop the petals immediately as you stifle the groan that threatens at how Billie says those two words. She knew the effect they had on you, and after last night you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were certain that you’d told Billie exactly what she could get you to do if she asked nicely enough, and the heat rushed unbidden from your cheeks to your core.

“Billie…”

You can’t do this right now, at least you know you shouldn’t. However, your traitorous body said otherwise, and you had to clench your thighs together at the thought of Billie between them. You’re too busy imagining the medium’s lithe fingers stroking you to near-madness to hear Billie laugh. It isn’t until she speaks up that you realize your eyes had fallen closed, and they snap open at her blunt response.

“You’re so cute when you’re so needy.”

You can’t hold back your groan this time and Billie smiles victoriously as she puts out her cigarette. She’s thinking about the look you probably have on your face, that tortured, desperate, pleading look you got when she’d teased you a little too much. She knew you may not be there yet, but there was still time for that. She smiled to herself at the fact she could hear you squirming in your chair on the other end of the call. She decided to cut to the chase because she had teased you an awful lot last night.

“Do you need to come again already?”

Your breath hitches at Billie’s words and you look around you despite knowing it’s just you in your office. Your face is heating up and you feel more and more uncomfortable just sitting in your chair. You don’t dare answer Billie as you focus all of your willpower on not rocking in your chair to get some semblance of relief. You can’t be certain, but you’re pretty sure that Billie wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

“I asked you a question, Y/N.”

You feel a shock of arousal at Billie’s words and you open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you end up groaning under your breath as you squeeze the armrest of your chair until it hurts.

“I can’t, Billie. Not here.”

Billie chuckles under her breath for two reasons. Your voice is so strained and needy that she doesn’t even really need an answer. Still, she wants to hear you say it, or at least say that you won’t. She won’t push you past your comfort zone, but this was pretty tame compared to what you’d been willing to do last night.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

You take a deep breath before releasing your death grip. You sit up with an inaudible groan before shaking your head. You’re so warm that you’re uncomfortable and you sigh as you look for something to fan yourself with.

“Yes, god yes, but I can’t right now.”

Billie smiles victoriously before nodding in agreement. You probably didn’t have time to get off before Erin returned with your lunch. Billie smiles wider at the thought before she looks back outside to her garden. She’s definitely not getting to that today.

“I know, baby, but maybe you’ll have time tonight?”

At this point, you swear Billie is trying to kill you. All of these pet names and her promises for the attention you just can’t get enough of…it’s enough to drive you crazy. You sighed in defeat and relief at the thought of getting to see Billie again. You can hardly wait to see the medium and you’re already smiling in excitement. However, as you look to the clock and see that it’s only 1, you’re not sure how you’re going to last five more hours.

Erin steps out of her car with both of your lunches and a sigh. She looks to the client parking lot and rolls her eyes at the sight of the two reporters still waiting around. They were truly like vultures, waiting to descend on their unsuspecting prey and take them out. Erin just hurried inside, not that they paid any attention to her. After the first few times they’d tried talking to the employees without any luck, they stopped bothering. Everyone had decided to not say a word to them, and fortunately, or unfortunately they only bothered Dr. Y/L/N.

Erin had been a little surprised to see the news earlier this morning. She had made a habit of looking for anything about you and Billie because honestly this was the most interesting thing going on for her right now. Even though it wasn’t about her. So maybe it was just the most interesting thing going on around her at the moment. She couldn’t help that she was single, bored and dying for some drama. She was also really looking forward to the next season of Billie’s show.

She had a month or two until that happened, but for now Erin was content, more than really, with seeing the medium when she brought in her cats. She hadn’t predicted that Dr. Y/L/N and Billie would hit it off like they had, and she definitely hadn’t expected what the damn tabloids broadcasted this morning.

Erin had already told herself that she wasn’t going to mention it to you when she knocked on your office door. She wasn’t used to it being shut because the doctors hardly shut their doors, but you opened it so quickly she didn’t really have time to wonder about it. You were still sitting in your chair as you supposedly worked on the medical record you had opened.

“Sushi delivery.”

You smile as you open the door to see Erin standing there with your lunch. You shoot her a grateful look as you start to search your desk for your wallet.

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. How much do I owe you?”

You finally find it under some papers along with your car keys. You miss Erin shaking her head as he shoots you a smile. She waves you off as she takes a step back before threatening to leave.

“Don’t worry about it, Dr. Y/L/N. You’ve had a rough day.”

You try to argue again, but ultimately fail and end up just opening your food with a frown of defeat. You glance to Erin who is still standing in the doorway with a smile.

“Thank you.”

You take a moment to think of what to say next as you break your chopsticks and twirl them absentmindedly.

“They didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

Erin smiles before shaking her head and mentioning that they didn’t spare her a second glance. This just confirmed what you knew about them and how they were only going after you. It made you want to roll your eyes, but you refrained as you motioned for Erin to sit down. She shook her head though with a smile before she pointed down the hall to nothing in particular.

“It’s okay, thanks. I actually needed to go make a call. I just wanted to say that I enjoy working with you, and unless you killed someone or something, that won’t change.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of Erin’s statement but you can’t help but be touched by her saying this. Of course, you were a little worried about what everyone at work would think about you dating, and now sleeping with, Billie Dean. You weren’t going to let what anyone thought stop you, but you did have a job to do here, and you needed to make sure that wasn’t hindered by your relationship.

Still, Erin saying that she didn’t care and even offering you support with the Claire issue was more than you’d expected. You definitely feel like hugging the younger woman, but you don’t want to weird her out so you simply smile wider before waving as she practically runs away.

“Thank you, Erin.”

As soon as she’s gone, you start to eat your food. You really eat too much sushi, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you settle back in your chair and look to your computer screen.

1:15pm.

You had a long way to go.

Part 11

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #my fic #ahs murder house #ahs imagine #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit

61 notes · View notes

botherkupo · 3 years

Text

heroes and lullabies (chapter 14)

new chapter is up!

read on ao3

14: Teamwork

Adrien’s heart thumps and thumps against his ribs. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should give the miraculous back, tell Ladybug that he’s changed his mind and he can’t help her. But his grip won’t loosen. It just won’t. He might as well be holding his soul in this tiny little case. So precious, so much a part of him.

He opens the case. A shaky breath crawls up through his chest and trembles on his lips. There is the ring. It draws him like gravity, like the song that whispers life through his veins, because this is what started it all—a real chance for freedom, a freefall dive into first love, a friendship so dear to him that he grieves its loss every day.

He had it all once.

“You okay?” Ladybug asks.

“Yeah.” His voice is thick. “Just—I don’t want to mess up, you know?”

Not quite a lie. He really doesn’t want to mess up.

She squeezes his hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

A fragile smile touches his lips, and then he picks up the ring—always a little heavier than expected. The metal is cool to the touch. Familiar. He slips on the ring, which adjusts to fit his finger and changes to silver.

Plagg swoops out in a blur of black. “Alright, who’s—”

Their eyes meet. Adrien’s hands shake and he swallows against the tightness choking his throat.

“Oh,” Plagg says.

It’s all that needs to be said. Plagg’s expression tells much more: softer than he’s ever shown, a hug in everything but words. Adrien’s eyes sting. All he wants to do is clutch Plagg close and tell him how much he’s missed him. How he even misses the old sock smell of camembert because at least it means his friend is there. But Adrien can’t say these things. He has a plan—one he has to pull off if he doesn’t want to ruin things even more.

“Nice to meet you,” Adrien says. “I hope you’re okay with me being your temporary holder for today.”

Plagg’s eyes widen—only for a second. “I guess I can tolerate it.”

“Plagg!” Ladybug hisses.

Adrien fights back a relieved smile. Plagg understood. Maybe this will work.

“We’d better get to the akuma,” Ladybug says. “Oh, yeah, the transformation phrase is—”

“Don’t worry, I remember.” Adrien closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “Plagg, transform me.”

The magic takes hold. There’s only one thought in his mind as green swirls around him: make it different.

A mask fits over his face. The hair he wears neatly styled lengthens, framing his face in a messy fringe, but it keeps on growing and pulls itself back into a ponytail. Cat ears unfurl. His hearing is instantly heightened, even as black stretches down his arms, his legs, encasing him in the protective suit.

No bell. The zip isn’t as long, and the pattern on his chest is different—a V that starts from the top of his collar, like the different coloured fur on a cat’s chest. A glance behind him reveals that his tail is shorter, not even reaching his knees.

It worked.

Adrien flexes his clawed fingers and meets her gaze. “Ready when you are.”

Her gaze flitters over him, pink dusting her cheeks. She blinks. “R-right. Er, what should I call you?”

“Bobtail.” His lips curve slightly. “Call me Bobtail.”

oOo

The akuma, Gambler, is a tricky one. Just when Adrien thinks he’s getting used to one mode, it switches to a different mode, using fire, swords, suddenly increasing its size. So many different abilities. But Adrien and Ladybug are a team. They work together effortlessly. Always have.

He stands in front of Ladybug and spins his baton, diffusing the fire that comes at them. A shield to give her time.

“Lucky Charm!”

A giant barrel drops into her arms, making her almost topple over. “Ugh, it’s heavy,” she mutters.

“Need a helping paw, my lady?”

Her gaze darts to him, forehead creasing. “What did you—” Her eyes widen. “Bobtail, look out!”

He brings up his staff in reflex, blocking the sword that swings for his head. Right. Better focus.

Their weapons clash again, the ringing clang echoing in his ears. He pushes back, his eyes narrowed, attacks getting fiercer with every strike. No way is he going to let Ladybug down. So he ducks, counters, hits back with all he has in spinning blows of silver. He attacks like this will be his last fight.

Maybe because it probably will be.

“Ooh, the kitty has claws,” Gambler taunts. “But if you think you can turn the luck in your favour, you’re wrong. We’re playing by my rules.”

Gambler hits the button on his chest. The reels spin, even as metal clangs against metal, sword against staff.

Ding, ding, ding!

Three fists. Damn.

Gambler grows in size, reaching higher and higher until he’s almost as tall as the buildings. A giant foot is raised, ready to stomp. To crush.

Adrien leaps back to stand near Ladybug, holding his staff up in a defensive gesture. “Got a plan?”

She nods. “I’m pretty sure the akuma is in that button on his chest. It looks like a lapel pin, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right, but he never lets us get close enough to grab it.” She pats the barrel. “Get this to that alleyway. I’ll keep him off your back and then lure him in there to you.”

“Got it.”

He picks up the barrel, grunting a little. It really is heavy. A sloshing sound comes from inside, and some kind of dark liquid spills over the side. Ah, so that’s why it’s heavy.

Ladybug charges into action. He doesn’t wait around to watch and heads for the alley as fast as he can, carrying his sloshing burden. There’s no need for her to explain the plan further. He’s done this with her enough times to understand what she wants.

He sets up the barrel in the middle of the alley. Then he waits.

“What’s the matter, Slot Face?” Ladybug shouts. “Too slow?”

There’s a frustrated growl, and then Ladybug swings into the alley, stopping only when she’s standing in front of Adrien. A smiles flashes over her face. He nods.

Gambler charges into the alley, clunking and big.

“Now!” Ladybug yells, stepping to the side.

Adrien tips over the barrel. Dark liquid spills everywhere, slinking under Gambler’s feet. It all happens quickly after that. Gambler slips and crashes to the ground with earthquake-shaking impact. That’s Adrien’s cue. He leaps into the air with his hand raised.

“Cataclysm!”

Black blooms from his palm like swirling stars and he smashes his hand against the lapel pin button. It crumbles, butterfly fluttering free. Ladybug’s yoyo does the rest.

Gambler’s brightly coloured suit melts away into a plain grey one. He blinks and looks around. “Huh? Where am I?”

Ladybug and Adrien share a smile. Then she picks up the empty barrel and throws it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

All of the damage is repaired. Everything restored to how it should be. It’s always a sight to behold, and it feels so much more significant now that he’s at her side after being forced to act as a spectator for so long. They did it. Another job well done.

Adrien holds out his fist to her. “Pound it?”

Something shifts in her expression and she yanks him into her arms. “it’s you.” She squeezes him so tightly that his ribs protest. “I can’t believe it’s you, kitty.”

His stomach drops. Oh no.

#ml #heroes and lullabies #my writing

11 notes · View notes

shotgun--rider · 4 years

Text

One Digit Off

A Jared x Reader Oneshot

After a hard day at work, Y/N just wants some peace and quiet. Instead, an accidental phone call might just change the whole evening.

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: Brief discussion of suicide attempt (not a main character), bad t-shirt puns, cat Rowena, useless fluff

*Reader gender/pronouns: any

A/N: Some silly apology fluff because I’ve been a useless rat about posting.

The couch in your living room was an overstuffed monstrosity that liked to consume anyone that sat on it, slowly but surely. It had been a thrift-store purchase in college years ago that somehow left anyone who sat on it pulled so far into the cushions that there was almost no leverage to stand back up. Nevertheless, it made the perfect place to hide at the end of a long week.

After the exhausting and entirely depressing shift you’d had at work, you wanted nothing more than to give in and let the couch eat you. You were wearing your favorite old, worn novelty t-shirt, the completely stupid one that read ‘SQUIRRELS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN’, and an equally embarrassing pair of shorts with tie-dyed handprints on your butt. Armed with a plate of haphazard snacks, you settled in on the hungry hippo couch, laying sprawled sideways and accepting your fate. You’d already taken a shower and jammed your hair behind a messy bandana, solidifying your look of “disaster got run over by a truck”. It was classy.

You just wanted to get cozy, watch some TV that you knew well enough not to have to think about anymore, and try to forget the sounds of a hysterical ten year old in your headset, screaming that Mommy was killing herself.

Working as a 911 dispatcher meant that you heard people in the worst moments of their lives all the time, and most of the time, they hung up without you ever hearing the ending. You were trained to talk down panicked callers, to get the most important information out of them in the quickest and safest way possible, to keep everyone calm and everyone alive until the first responders got there. And you were good at what you did, good at compartmentalizing what you listened to so that it didn’t follow you home, so that it didn’t distract you. And most of the time that worked.

You blew out your breath and refocused on the TV, having put on one of your old favorite Supernatural episodes as a distraction. Your black cat was huddled up kneading her paws on your feet, the couch was slowly swallowing you between the cushions and the backrest, and the hollowness in your chest eased bit by bit as you listened to Sam and Dean bicker.

On the coffee table in front of you, just past your snack plate and out of reach, your phone lit up, buzzing with a FaceTime call. You lifted your head halfheartedly to peer at the screen, unable to make out the caller at the angle you were at. It didn’t matter anyway; you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Besides, it wasn’t like you really had anyone in your contacts who would be especially put out if you waited until tomorrow to talk to them. Your friends were all very casual people.

Stuffing a ranch-dipped cucumber slice into your mouth while you were sitting up, you proceeded to flop back down onto the couch, earning a death look from Rowena for moving your feet.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered to the cat. “You’re the one sitting on my feet, you know what you signed up for,”

And now you were talking to your cat. Great. This was probably the sort of thing that kept you perpetually single, you reflected absently. There weren’t a lot of people out there in the market for a put-crazy-cat-ladies-to-shame introvert who worked weird hours and was more awkward than entertaining. Not that it mattered, though. You weren’t really relationship material in general, you’d found, and after realizing how many boyfriends you just seemed to inevitably disappoint, you’d decided you were fine being single.

Ten minutes later, just as Sam was losing his shoe down a storm drain, your phone buzzed again. There was no contact photo coming up, which probably meant it was a wrong number, and you ignored it once more. Until it rang again, and again, followed by a flurry of pinging text messages.

Cursing to yourself as you fought your way upright (dislodging Rowena, who hissed at you), you flailed for the phone, not bothering to read the texts as you picked it up. If a wrong number was going to call you that many times, they either had an emergency or really needed to be set straight. Pushing your bandana higher off of your forehead carelessly, you swiped to answer the FaceTime call, setting it on the couch next to you without even looking at the video loading on the screen as you fumbled to pause the TV. “God, what!” you snapped in the vague direction of your phone. “Stop hissing at me, cat,” you added irritably for Rowena’s benefit.

There was a long pause, and then a man’s voice. “Um,” he said inelegantly. “I’m sorry?”

Rowena prowled over to the phone, then, batting at it with one paw and nosing the screen inquisitively. “Rowena, you menace!” You reached over, trying to pry the phone out from where she was currently sitting on half of it, sighing heavily.

“Hey, look, I think you called the wrong number, and I’m really sorry my cat’s sitting on you right now--” you started, just barely able to make out the bottom half of a man’s torso in a loose gray shirt from underneath Rowena’s black fur.

A laugh, then, “No, it’s a cute cat. Well, as far as I can tell,”

Your phone’s speaker was muffled by Rowena’s tail, but there was something about that voice that almost sounded familiar. “Jesus Christ, Ro, let me apologize to this guy properly,” you huffed, failing once more to pull your phone free when she batted her paws at you defensively, claws out.

“Wait, your cat’s name is Rowena?”

“Uh, yeah,” you frowned, trying to figure out why hearing your cat’s name in a stranger’s voice bothered you so much. “Yeah, I--Rowena give me the phone!” you snapped suddenly, making a dive between her paws. Finally, your cat relinquished the phone, fixing you with an Oscar-worthy dramatic look of anger befitting her namesake before flouncing off the couch. “Damn cat,” you grumbled, finally lifting the phone to get a look at who’d been calling you. At least being virtually sat on by a cat meant he got a little payback for harassing you with calls for the past half hour.

As soon as you brought the phone up to your face, you froze, your slow blinking the only proof that the screen hadn’t just frozen up on you. “Uh.”

He was several years older than the one currently paused on your TV, wearing a black beanie and looking mostly ready for bed, but no, that was definitely Jared freaking Padalecki staring back at you. And you were wearing a squirrel shirt and had a rat’s nest for hair. Clearly, the universe had just built this entire day to laugh at you, because what the fuck.

He was smiling at you, eyes crinkled up at the corners and looking unfairly put together compared to your gremlin-impersonation in the corner screen. “So, are the squirrels having fun?”

“What--oh!” you looked down at your shirt, embarrassment flooding through you, and decided on the spot to go with it. It wasn’t like this could get any weirder. “They were,” you returned, “until somebody called them six times in twenty minutes,”

Jared’s expression turned sheepish. “Yeah...sorry about that. My buddy got a new phone number and I obviously saved it wrong. I wouldn’t have bothered you if I didn’t think it was just Jensen ignoring me,”

A slightly incredulous sounding laugh burst from your lips, and you shifted on the couch, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were casually carrying on a conversation with Jared Padalecki. After your cat had sat on him. “You didn’t bother me that much,” you conceded. “Sorry I snapped at you. Rough day.”

“Oh yeah?” Jared tucked one arm behind his head, shifting around but never taking his eyes away from your face. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Um,” you faltered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t need to spill your guts to a random wrong number who also happened to be one of your favorite actors. What you did need to do was get out of this with some decency, hang up the phone, and forget about it.

“You don’t have to,” Jared was saying softly, his forehead pinched like he was concerned about you. (Which was laughable).

“No…” you shook your head, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t know, I just...isn’t this weird?”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, talking to a stranger because of a misdial?”

Jared pouted, his eyes turning dangerously puppy-looking. “And here I thought you liked me,”

“Wishful thinking, Padalecki,” you shot back without thinking, only realizing after the words were already out that you’d just confirmed that you knew who he was.

Meanwhile, Jared’s eyes had lit up triumphantly. “If you know who I am, then you’re not talking to a total stranger,” he pointed out, smiling easily at you.

He didn’t seem like he minded, but that did little to put you at ease. Pinching the bridge of your nose to stave off a stress headache, you sighed. “I’m sorry, that’s got to be so awkward, I--”

“What? No,” Jared just looked genuinely confused. “You’ve got a cat named Rowena, I kind of figured you’d know who I was,”

You groaned, covering your entire face with your hand now as embarrassment burned through your cheeks. “You probably think I’m some crazed wild fan, naming my cat after a character,”

“I don’t,” Jared reassured you firmly. “I think you’re funny, and I like the squirrel shirt,”

You peeked out from between your fingers. Jared Padalecki liked your dumb squirrel shirt. “You’re just saying that,”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I’m not! This is the best thing to happen to me all week,”

“You must have had a pretty lame week,” you observed sarcastically, leaning toward your phone to better examine your own image in the corner. “I look like a gremlin,”

“You do not!” Jared was laughing at you now, shaking his head emphatically. “You look cute,”

“I look--and feel--like I crawled out of a trash can, but thank you,” you deadpanned, a yawn distracting you from Jared’s further counterargument. You heard the smile in his voice before you opened your eyes to see it, and something caught in your chest at his soft expression.

“Tired?” he asked gently, shifting onto his stomach on the screen, face propped up on a pillow to look at you. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, that surrealness of being on a FaceTime call with Jared Padalecki was still there, but mostly, it just felt unbelievably normal.

“Twelve hour shift,” you confirmed with a nod, one hand moving beside you to lazily pet Rowena, who had apparently decided to forgive you. At the look of puzzlement on Jared’s face, you elaborated, “I’m a 911 dispatcher,”

“So when you say you had a rough day…” Jared’s face cleared in understanding, his expression patient. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want,” he reminded you softly, falling silent after that as if just content to watch your gremlin face on his screen. (Which would be ridiculous).

Your mind flickered back to the sound of the panicked girl on your headset, and you sighed. “No, it’s fine. I, uh, picked up a call from a girl today. Moriah. She was ten. She, uh, she found her mom in the bathtub with a knife,”

Jared sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry you had to listen to that. Did she...uh, is she okay?”

Your mouth twisted wryly. “That’s the thing. Everybody hangs up as soon as the ambulance gets there. I hope so, though. Kid said she had vitals,”

Jared was shaking his head at you. “And you do that every day,”

“I mean, not every day, it depends on shifts. But yeah.” you shrugged. “I try to help,”

“That’s incredible. You’re incredible.” he murmured softly.

Squirming at the praise, you scowled playfully at him. “You don’t even know me,”

“I’m not taking it back,”

“Yeah, okay,” you feigned annoyance like there wasn’t a blush all over your face. Then you winced, suddenly noting the little red battery symbol on top of your screen. “Crap, my phone’s gonna die,”

That seemed to shake Jared out of just staring vaguely at the phone screen, and you watched him sit up cross legged on his bed, still with that same heart-stopping smile. “Yeah, we should both probably go to bed anyway,”

You sighed with a nod, strangely reluctant to hang up. “I’m still sorry Rowena sat on you,”

Jared laughed, throwing back his head. “I’m not,” he told you brightly. “You probably woulda hung up on me if she hadn’t. Tell her she’s a good cat,”

“I will not, it’ll make her head bigger,” you retorted easily. “Goodnight, Jared,”

Jared touched his fingers briefly to his lips, covering the camera with them a second later. “Goodnight,” he whispered, ending the call before you had any time to process what that meant.

It only took a few minutes for your phone to buzz with a new text, and you opened it with a laugh, scrolling briefly back through Jared’s pestering of “Jensen” before focusing on what he’d sent you this time.

So since you turned out not to be Jensen, I need a name for my contacts

Are you sure you’re keeping my contact? You shot back, smirking at your phone screen.

Yes??? Jared sent back carefully, and you could almost imagine his hesitantly sheepish expression.

Jensen 2. Not-Jensen. Crazy cat lady.

He sent back a sad emoji. C’mon.

Y/N L/N

Goodnight, Y/N.

You tossed your phone back onto the coffee table, falling back into the couch with what was probably a vaguely stunned expression on your face. Jared freaking Padalecki. You fell asleep with a little smile still playing on your lips.

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural rpf #jared padalecki x reader #jared x reader #spn #rpf #x reader #reader insert #oneshot

85 notes · View notes

im-not-looking-for-forgiveness · 4 years

Note

hiiii. i would love it v much if the reader adopts a therapy dog for tommy shelby!! bonus points if he doesn't know it's a therapy dog until it's bringing him blankets and medicine bottles when he's having one of /those/ nights 🥴

Daybreak - Thomas Shelby x Reader

This request has a special place in my heart 😭❤️

*****

"I don't need a dog."

"Tommy, don't tell me you haven't missed Alfie's dog, Cyril."

"I haven't." Thomas insisted, giving the black labrador retriever at your feet a stern look.

"Just give it until tomorrow, yeah? Please, Tommy?" you pleaded with your boyfriend.

"Fine." he gave in reluctantly, and pulled you against him.

"Good. Thank you. I'm sure you'll love her as much as I do." you smiled and kissed Tommy's cheek.

"What's her name?"

"I haven't named her yet. I thought you would want to." you admitted sheepishly.

"Ah. Well, we'll see about that."

"We will. I've got to go, Tom." you said, checking the time. You were traveling to London tonight for an important morning meeting at work.

"I know. I wish you could stay a little longer." he told you, uncharacteristically honest about his feelings. Tommy hugged you tightly.

"You know I would stay with you constantly if I could, but I need to be there tomorrow. They're announcing the promotion." you frowned, hugging him back.

"Why don't you quit and work with me instead?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

You smiled, "Tommy, we've talked about this. Working for you would just be keeping you company, and you certainly don't have to pay me to do that."

"I'll pay you double what you make now." he pressed his forehead to yours.

"I know this, and I love you ever more for it, but I just can't. Now, I've really got to go." you told him, before giving him a quick kiss.

"What if I make you late?" he tried again, sliding a hand to your ass.

"Tommy!" you giggled.

"I know, I know. Come on." he relented, taking your hand in his.

Tommy walked with you until you were seated safely in the car. The black lab followed happily behind. Johnny Dogs was taking you to the train station per Tommy's request.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you." you told Thomas, a little worried for him. You had a vague feeling that something was going to go wrong.

"I love you." he said quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And then, you were off. You tried to calm your fears with the knowledge that Tommy had accepted the dog. See, the dog's purpose was not to replace Cyril. It was to replace you. The unnamed dog was trained to pick up on when someone was in distress and find solutions for them. Aberama Gold had put you in contact with the dog trainer, and you felt you could trust him. After all, men in the business of war and politics needed all the support they could get.

---

Tommy stared at the dog, and the dog stared back. What was he to do with her? He didn't need a dog. He didn't even want a dog! They were a lot of work that he didn't have time for. So why was he unable to think about anything else?

"What do you want of me, eh?" he asked the dog.

She, obviously, said nothing back.

Feeling frustrated, he put the dog out of his office and shut the door. Out of sight, out of mind. Right?

"Move on, Tom." he whispered to himself, and went to work sorting through the papers on his desk. He constantly had a lot of work ahead of him.

A few slow hours passed, and Thomas decided he should be done for the day. His eyes were irritated with staring at words on paper.

Just as Tommy stood, a loud crash sounded down the hall.

Immediately, his thoughts and heart started racing. Someone was out to get him! He pulled out his gun. Tommy then ducked behind the desk and cocked the weapon. His mind was tricking him into thinking he was back in the war. His office had become a tunnel, and the door was now a wall in which he expected a shovel to burst through any moment.

When the door did open, his brain mistook the four paws for boots on earth. Tommy's breathing was erratic, and he couldn't seem to focus. He felt like he was completely helpless, and absolutely hated it. Every time he thought he was getting better, this would happen and he'd be reduced back to square one.

A black shape came into view, and Tommy pointed the gun. He nearly fired before he realized that the other gun he was expecting was a small black nose.

"Damn dog!" he shouted, fear still wrecking havoc on his system.

The sweet girl had a blanket in her mouth, and she draped it over Tommy without hesitation. She didn't cower or shrink back. This was her job. She was supposed to take care of her new master, and that's exactly what she intended on doing.

She turned and left. While she did so, Tommy tossed the gun away and sank entirely onto the floor. He felt so off that he didn't even bother removing the blanket. How had she gotten in? He was sure the door had been closed. Was he really losing his mind this time?

A moment later, the dog returned with a whiskey bottle wedged in her jaws. Tommy gave her an incredulous look, but accepted the bottle. Where had she gotten it? Tommy quickly decided he didn't care. He took the stopper out and took a swig. This was an unexpected turn, but not an unpleasant one.

The dog left again. He was still finding it hard to breathe.

Tommy took another drink before setting the bottle aside. The familiar taste was helping to ground him in the present. He was not in France! He was home. He was home.

She trotted back over to Tommy, his medicine bottle carefully in her mouth. She dropped it in Tommy's lap before sitting back and wagging her tail.

"Where the fuck did you learn that?" Tommy asked in a whisper, coming to the realization that Y/N had gotten this dog on purpose. Oh, god, he loved that woman.

The dog barked at him, and he snorted in amusement. Tommy took a small sip from the bottle, and only then did she leave again. He scoffed, and set that bottle aside too.

When the dog returned for the final time, she carried a pillow in her mouth. Tommy gently took it from her, and placed it behind his head and against the desk. The dog, wagging her tail, promptly climbed into his lap.

"Hey." Tommy began to complain. He let it slide, however, when he realized how comforting this truly was.

Tentatively, Thomas wrapped his arms around her. She wagged her tail more fiercely, and even licked his face a little bit. He sighed against her black fur, and kept holding on. She wasn't Y/N, but she was a close second.

Unwilling to sleep after all that, Tommy just stayed in this spot. He had whiskey and a dog. What more did he currently need, besides you? You were safe, and you were returning tomorrow. He was safe, and had a lovely dog. That was something he couldn't ignore.

He didn't realize how much time had passed after that until he could see rays of light peeking through the curtain. It was morning! Mornings were always his favorite time of day. They were a sign of a new beginning, and a sign of hope. He'd never admit this out loud, of course.

"We made it." he told the dog, and then immediately felt embarrassed. The dog didn't think they were in danger, only he had. Then again, the dog didn't judge him for that. The dog just helped him without expecting any reward. Dammit. He was already too attached.

Yawning, Tommy finally got off the floor. He wrote a brief note and took it with him as he went to your shared bedroom. It was then placed on your nightstand. He was suddenly so tired, that every action seemed twice as hard as normal.

Thomas completely undressed, and climbed into the bed. He patted the empty space next to him, and the dog immediately joined him. She plopped down, and wagged her tail when Tommy pulled her closer. Within moments, he had fallen into a deep and peaceful sleep.

---

"As much as I like driving you, you should really get you your own car, Y/N." Johnny laughed, pulling up to Tommy's house once more. You had been ushering him to drive faster nearly the entire ride back.

"Thank you. I'm sure he's fine, but you don't always know with him." you said, giving Johnny a quick kiss to the cheek before hopping out of the car.

"Let me know, alright?" he asked, sobering up a little.

"Always. Have a safe drive back." you nodded before turning to go inside.

As soon as you went through the doors, the dog was there to greet you. You pet her and gave her a few kisses. Hopefully the fact that she was still here meant something.

"I fed her and let her outside already, Y/N. She was in Mr. Shelby's room all night." one of the maids informed you, smiling. She had secretly hoped they would keep the dog, too.

"Thank you. Is Tommy still here?" you answered.

"Oh, yes, he's still in bed."

Quickly, you went to go find him. He usually had such trouble sleeping that even if he had been up all night, he wouldn't sleep through the next day. It made you worried. You had had a feeling that something was going to happen when you were away. It was why you had adopted the dog in the first place. You had just hoped the dog wouldn't have to do her job on the very first night.

You read the note Tommy left:

'Her name is Daybreak.'

Tommy must have had some sort of episode or nightmare in the night, and Daybreak obviously did her job well. You smiled, relieved. If you were gone, Daybreak could save him. If he shut you out, as he did some times, the dog would do what you could not.

You took off your shoes and your outerwear, and climbed into bed beside him.

"Y/N?" he murmured softly, rolling to face you. He barely opened his eyes. His hair was messy from sleep, and he looked absolutely adorable.

"I'm here, Tommy." you said, putting yourself in his arms.

"Welcome home." he whispered, hugging you against him. He ran his fingers through your hair a few times, just taking you in.

"Are you alright?" you asked tentatively.

"I am now. I'm keeping that dog." he answered.

"Good. I hoped she'd grow on you." you told him, aware he was avoiding the subject of last night. If he didn't want to talk about it, you wouldn't pry.

"That she did." was all he said, before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You'd tell him about the promotion later on. For now, you were just going to be there for him. He deserved some peace.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #cilian murphy #request #imagine

356 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 4 years

Text

for @speakerunfolding who has done some AMAZING art of Jon and Martin with their daemons: aren’t. they. beautiful!

jonmartin, that martin’s daemon character study that’s finally finished.

Some cws in the tags. Also on A03

“What do you think then?”

“'bout what?”

“About this one.”

“Don't think anything much. You like it, I like it.”

There's a rodent-fanged nibble on the fleshy pad of his thumb. A sure-footed scamper up his arm, a scritch-scratch scrabble of claws up the terrain of crumpled uniform that he's yet to change out of. Backpack slumped spineless by his bedroom door, his shoes toed off unlaced.

“You've got to have an opinion, Martin.”

“Why?” Martin replies, playfully obtuse. He's gifted with another nip.

“You jus' hafta,” comes the long-suffering, impatient response. Long buck-teeth roll the lobe of his ear in an admonishing but painless grind.

“Fine. Bossy. I like this one, right?” Martin says to keep the peace. He brings his hand up to flatten the attentive perked-up peaks of rounded ears, ticks the fur-fat round of a soft stomach. The pink tail that's trailing lazily, wormish with ridges, he strokes along its length and it coils around his middle finger. He brings it up and watches the mouse trapeze itself playfully by his tail.

“You like everything I try,” harrumphs the mouse dismissively. There's a flutter of dirt-brown wing, and Martin giggles as the nightingale alights on his forehead, hopping initially to balance.

“That's not a bad thing,” Martin says. His attention truly stolen away, he closes the notebook he's been tongue-out concentrating on, filling with careful doodles.

“You're indecisive, 's what it is.” The nightingale pecks at his nose affectionately.

Martin shrugs because it's true.

Expecting a response, the nightingale chirps a half-annoyed sound.

“What about this then?”

The bird transfers to his chest and fixes him with a beady, challenging stare. Martin stares back, though it makes him grin cross-eyed

The weight on his chest increases, and bigger rounded eyes look out of a furred face.

“Ergh – you're getting hair everywhere!” Martin complains, pushing petulant against the bulk of the huge rabbit. “Mum'll get mad!”

“I'm fluffy,” the rabbit says almost defensively. “How'd you like that – me being soft?”

“You are really soft,” Martin concedes, running his fingers through the dense tufts.

“Right, what about this?” The rabbit repeats insistently, shifting on his haunches, getting hair absolutely all over Martin's school trousers. He'll have to clean them before Mum notices.

Suddenly the face has lengthened to a snout, the teeth have sharpened vulpine.

“What you think? Better in a fight than a rabbit or a mouse.”

“Are you planning to get into fights?”

“Someone needs to protect you,” the fox says simply, the colours of his fur pulling his face into a natural frown.

“Well, you don't like being bigger animals anyway, so it doesn't matter,” Martin replies. He rubs the silky fur through his fingers like trailing river water.

The fox growls and whines in the way he does when Martin's just not listening.

The grasshopper mouse comes back, snuffling his small pink nose.

“You really wouldn't mind?” Aron says slowly. His words more precise now, considered. “Even if I'm not big, or soft, or fast, or strong?”

Martin shakes his head and thinks mournfully that he really ought to get a start on his homework.

“We've got ages yet,” Martin replies, scooping the mouse up under his chin. “Ages 'n ages. And I know I'll like whatever you end up being, so why do I need to worry?”

“That's 'case I do the worrying for the both of us,” says Aron, but he nuzzles up against Martin's throat anyway.

–

The first day of the summer holidays finds him blearily squinting in the dawn-wash glow of his room. Its grasping fingers illuminate bookshelves and posters and a pile of clothes that's slipped off his desk chair; it cuts a slice across his bed, over his pillow.

He wonders, too woozy for irritation, blinking deeply, why he's awake so early.

“Martin!”

Something nips at the skin of his hand.

“Mart – wake up.”

“Wossit?”

He garbles a sound that barely makes landfall at language, strains his neck up to look around for Aron.

He sees the crouching, cringing shape sat unfamiliar against the back of his hand, near the fin of skin between thumb and forefinger. Legs folded tight against each other, the spokes of the form folded neatly back into itself so that it squats like a bobbly pebble, eyes catching the room light and reflecting it back like the precisely set stones in a crown.

“I can't change back!” Aron moans. “Martin, I don't know what to do, I – ”

“Ok,” Martin whispers roughly, sitting up and wincing as it sets the bed off in a snapping creak. His hands hover because he wants to pet and stroke and reassure, but he doesn't know where he can touch. “Ok, it's, it's alright, it's – try something easier? Come on, it's alright.”

Jointed legs tufted with monochromatic hairs flail, propelling themselves to scuttle over skin, off his hand, unsteadily tumbling onto the bedclothes, clambering back up on the duvet slung messy over Martin's knees. There is a sensation of a headache that barks with a sudden ferocity behind his eyes even as Aron gasps, strained.

“I'm trying,” he replies, miserable, and that headache rips and snarls up in Martin's head, the ache distracting from everything else but Aron's panic. “I'm trying, I can't, I can't, a-and I don't know what to do, what should we – ?”

“Shh,” Martin says, near tears himself, clearing his throat. “Sh, it's – stop, stop for a minute.”

Aron stops. The headache subsides. Martin feels clammy and overheated, and his small soul is churning out enough terror to blanket them both insensate.

Martin forces himself to take a very long, very troubled breath.

“It's – it's ok,” he whispers finally. “We'll just. Let's just – let's breathe, yeah. We'll – we'll sort this.”

“I'm sorry,” Aron garbles, “I'm sorry – I'll – I'll try something else, something bigger, something with teeth or a tail or wings, I'll be better, give me a minute.”

Aron's tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

“Aron,” Martin says slowly. He keeps his hands folded on his lap but his fingers twitch to reach out. “This is – we've settled, haven't we?”

Aron can't nod. His form can't allow for such an expression. But he brings his legs in closer, pebbles up and won't look at Martin, and that's answer enough.

“Please,” Martin says, holding out his palm. Flat, fingers docked against fingers. “Come here, please.”

It takes a moment before Aron creeps shamefaced onto his hand. Martin adds his other hand so he can cup the small shape like he's holding a weakly burning candle flame out of the wind.

Martin studies him now the panic has subsided. Admiring the greenish-blue of the chelicerae at the front of his face, the way they ripple with colour as the light catches them like fish scales, like an oil spill. The downy white tufts and lines like tree rings along his abdomen that break up the coarse run of black hair.

“Aron,” Martin whispers, “I think you're great. Look at you. You're amazing!”

“But I'm not – ” Aron begins tentatively, but Martin interrupts him by clumsily reaching out with a pawing touch, stroking the upstruck wired fur against where he thinks his neck probably is.

“Ow.”

“Shit. What?”

“.... you poked me in the eye,” comes the response, tinted with a ghost of amusement.

“Sorry!”

Martin pauses, and then leans in eagerly to see, holding up his hand to get a better look.

“I am not an art exhibit Martin,” comes the huffy reply.

“Sit there and be admired for a minute,” Martin snarks back, and he feels Aron's fleeting smile in return.

“I can and will bite you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Martin replies, not really listening, turning his cupped hands this way and that. “How many do you have? Eyes, I mean?”

“Eight. Duh.”

“Woah,” Martin replies, ignoring the snide aside. He casts out a finger again, moving it over the abdomen a bit more carefully, his bitten nail trailing along the curving round to the small protrusion at the back where he supposes webbing must come from.

“I think you're cool,” he whispers again.

“What about Mum?” Aron asks. He's grown bolder, crawls up to the ends of Martin's fingertips where he sits like a lord surveying his kingdom.

“We just, we just won't tell Mum yet.” Martin worries at his lip. “She'll... she'll worry, she doesn't need to know right now, does she?”

They keep their secret for four days. An advantage of how small Aron has grown.

Until his Mum catches sight of him, half-burrowed under the lip of his t-shirt collar while Martin is finishing drying the dishes. He's had a growth spurt recently, and barely going on tip-toe, he reaches up the higher cupboard where the glasses are kept.

“Change into something else,” she says briskly. It's been a bad day, her face washed out and lined with sleeplessness, pale-lipped and shivery. Martin watches as she finishes swallowing the last of her tablets with a blank expression, clipping her pill box closed.

Martin stiffens. Feels Aron crouch and bristle against his collarbone. He sees Kacper perk his ears up, his yellowish eyes snagged on Martin's throat. His bushy tail tipped with white flicks distracted.

“I can't,” Martin replies, feeling his face heat up with the suddenness of attention being paid to him. His voice cracks in the middle, and he flushes at how squeaky it comes across.

“Something else, Martin,” she insists sharply, her eyebrows pulled down.

Kacper, who has been sat on his hunches near her leg, stands. Glances up at her.

“Lena, calm down,” he warns, but his Mum takes a step forward. Martin blunders back the same distance, nearly elbowing a plate off the counter. Their kitchen is pokey, and he's crowded back against the washing machine.

“Mum, I- I can't,” he repeats. His words are thick and clogging in his throat, his body feels too unwieldy, too big for the suddenly very cramped space. “Aron's, he's settled, Mum, and – ”

“Don't be stupid, Martin, you can't have – ”

“He's settled, Lena,” Kacper's voice is grumbling terse at the back of his throat. “Being upset about it isn't going to help anyone.”

“He's not settled. Not as that!” she barks, and Martin's not sure who she's snapping at, but she takes another step and grabs against his wrist, and it's tight as a manacle and her nails dig into the pasty skin there, and Kacper's protestations become a vocalized growl. “He's not settling like that.”

Martin does start crying then, hot tears leaking down his cheeks, his free hand cupped protectively over the fragile, unwanted shape his soul has taken. His mum's lip curls upwards when she sees his tears but still she doesn't let go, and her grip is bony and harsh and it hurts.

“Lena!” Kacper snarls, and his teeth catch and yank backwards at the fabric of her trousers, “Enough, Lena, leave it!”

“Mum?” Martin asks faintly with his squeaking, crumbling voice. He doesn't pull away. There's nowhere to pull away to.

His mum sniffs. Sets her shoulders high again, and rips her hand back, and leaves the room without another word. Kacper glances over at Martin, and Martin desperately wants to bury his face in the soft orangey fur like he used to when he was younger, wants to feel it under his fingers.

But Kacper leaves too, and Martin and Aron are suddenly very alone.

They don't say anything for a long time. Martin puts the last of the plates away, and he goes upstairs and locks the door of his room, sits heavily on the side of the bed.

“Aron...” he begins.

“I don't want to talk about it,” comes the cloth-muffled response.

“I – ”

“I mean it,” Aron snaps. “I don't want to talk about it. Leave it be, yeah?”

“Oh,” Martin replies. He wipes at his eyes, stares at his feet. “Oh. Ok.”

The entire incident is never spoken about again.

Aron takes to lurking under Martin's clothes whenever they're in the house.

–

“All you have to do is look in a mirror.”

The world rings wrong in his ears. His in-gasping weed-choked breaths are scraping and disjointed as he parses them as noise. He can hear the slide of his own fingers curling against his damp palms. The room is at once so loud and crushingly far away like a distant crashing storm tide, and yet right up against his ear, like a dropped glass in an empty room, Elias' voice, cut-sharp and close and the slivers sliding into him as splinters as he listens.

“The resemblance is quite uncanny. You even have a spider, you know, just like he did. Not the same species of course, but then she never looks close enough to check, does she? The face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her...”

“Shut. Up.” Martin hears himself push the sound out as a feeble whistle between his teeth, and it gets lost in the groaning rigging of sound in the room. The weight of being so splayed open has him bow-backed and trembling.

It's hard to remember why he's doing this. It's hard to focus on anything other than how much she despises him. How much he's always known it.

Through blistering tears, he watches Aron scuttle down his trouser leg, over his shoelaces, a tear-blurred shape moving at surprising speed over the foot-worn and un-swept floor. He thinks he might be planning on biting Elias. He can feel the pulsing reckless fury that is the only thing breaking up the solid mass of despair cementing and expanding in the hollow of his chest, the rage that even the satisfaction of burning statements hasn't appeased. At everything this man has done – but he's not a man, he's not a person – , at everything he's sat back and watched and done nothing to prevent, and as Martin chokes airless on his own drowning grief, his anger has found motion, enough room to lash out amidst the agony.

Elias looks down at Aron, almost bored.

And brings down his foot.

Martin drops.

There isn't an expression to describe the sensation. His knees send a pained recoil down his legs as he slams against the floor, a shock up his spine, but Martin can't feel that, can't feel anything but alight, burning, illuminated down to the bones of him. He retches on a shell-shocked wail as Elias idly watches the panicked body squirming under the vicious pressure of his shoe, as Aron cries out as his body is pressed squashed against the floor, and Martin can do nothing.

There's a curve to Elias' smile now.

He shouldn't be touching him, Martin's brain is scream-sobbing, he shouldn't, he can't, he shouldn't be touching...

“You want to know what she sees when she looks at you?”

Martin thought he didn't have room for any more, but Elias pushes his mother's hatred into him anyway.

There's a harder, painful pressure, and he hears Aron squeal. He thinks his own voice mouths a pleading 'stop' that goes unheeded.

Elias' voice is tight and biting and cold.

“Don't burn any more statements.”

Even when the pressure lifts, there are steps walking away, the door closing on this pitiful tableau, Martin cannot move, awash in the flotsam of wrong, smudged and tarnished and beheld in the cruellest violent light, knotted in the weeds of a revelation that is no less choking for how little of a surprise it was.

Half-blinded by tears, he inches forward on his knees, feeling around, finding the furred body quivering where it was made to stay.

“I've – I've got you,” he slurs desperately, scooping the shape up against his face, feeling for anything broken, anything fractured, feeling his front legs twitch feebly against his cheeks. “He – he's gone, he shouldn't have, he – he....”

“She hates us,” Aron finally speaks. The loudest thing in the room, Martin almost wincing from the suddenness – where Martin's grief has already begun to settle into the cracks of him, Aron's is an outpouring, a final barrier broken. “She hates us so much, Martin, a-and we did nothing and she – god, he left so we got everything she reserved for him for no better reason than we were there to hate and he wasn't, a-and she...”

Aron's words are lost in a babbling wail, and Martin can do nothing but clutch him desperately, shushing, every excuse and reasoning and childish hope he's ever entertained that she'd ever be proud of him laid bare as the dessicated husk it always was, already striped by life's disappointments long before.

Aron climbs under the collar of his shirt when Melanie comes in. He will not crawl out for a very long time.

–

He discusses it with Aron while Jon is in the shower. Jon uses up all the hot water from the immersion heater, his showers long, aimless and scalding, even with his hair now hacked back from its tangles. Sometimes Martin even thinks he catches a hum, a snatch of tune, though it's always faint, muddied by the bathroom acoustics, close-lipped and idle. He thinks Jon's happy here. Hopes he is.

There's the slow wash of steam trickling from under the bathroom door onto the landing, into the sitting room. Martin tries not to be reminded of other, colder mists.

“It seems unnecessary...” Martin is responding, chewing the nail of his thumb.

“We don't know who could come here!” Aron replies dogged. He keeps rubbing his front legs together anxiously, like Martin does with his hands, but he stays on the sofa arm so all his front-facing eyes are fixed on Martin. “One of us needs to be here to keep watch. Who knows who could come? Daisy – ”

“Daisy's Jon's friend.”

“She's tried to kill him before,” says Aron dismissively. “We don't know her, Martin, we don't know she can be trusted.”

“Jon does – ”

“And it's never helped him,” Aron snaps. He untenses, and the bristles coating his back soften. “OK. Maybe Daisy isn't a problem. But what if Elias finds him? While we're out getting food or walking down to the village, it's not safe for him to be alone.”

Martin nods worriedly. He rubs the cold-cracked skin of his palms over his thighs and tugs at his lip with his teeth.

“We don't even know if it will stretch that...”

“We do, don't lie,” Aron retorts. It's not unkind. It's just harsher. More direct. Everything about them has had all the edges taken off. “You know it will stretch that far.”

It will. Martin doesn't know how far it was, from his office to the Panopticon, but he'd stretched it and stetched it until he'd stopped feeling Aron's terror, until it had boiled down from a fire-brand mutilation to a wincing sunburn of feeling. And once Peter cast him into the Lonely. Well. He hadn't felt anything at all then.

“We shouldn't be able to do this,” Martin says miserably. He rubs his hands over his face. “Be so far apart from each other.”

“Well, we can,” Aron replies simply, “so we should use it to make sure they stay safe.”

Martin lets out a breath too heavy for his lungs to hold.

“You're right,” he says finally. “I know you're right, s'just... it's not – it's not natural. Being able to – it's not, it's not right.”

“No.” Aron says and he crawls onto Martin's arm, up onto his shoulder. “No, it's – it's not. But it's what we've got now.”

Martin wipes at his eyes, takes another more pronounced inhale.

“Hey. Hey, it might heal one day. Don't make that face.”

“'m not making a face.” Martin replies, feeling belligerent and childish in his response.

Aron rears up and sets both front legs on the spot on Martin's chin he can reach.

“Your sulky face,” he says, and his voice is warm. Everything about him feels warm these days. Martin is mummified in five layers of clothing and still has goosebumps.

“I missed you,” Aron continues, simply. He has never found honesty easy, but he looks at Martin, taps against his chin with the stunted pedipalps at the front of his body and repeats: “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Martin croaks out, and he has no more words to express what he wants to stay.

After a moment, Aron makes a decisive 'clearing throat' noise, and continues.

“I've told Emer. The plan.”

“How'd she take it?”

“She's practical. She can see the benefit.”

“Is she going to be the one to tell Jon?”

“You don't want to do the honours then?”

“You know I don't.”

“Chicken.”

“Sod off.”

“I'm right though.”

“Yeah, don't get used to it.”

Aron hums in reply, and then returns his gaze to Martin.

“You really want to get back into the habit of keeping secrets from him?”

“No, I.... No. You're right.

“Twice in one day.”

“It's a miracle.”

“If you're going to be this insufferable with him, he'll hand you back.”

“I'll hide in his sleeve cuffs. Jump out at him.”

“Don't.”

“I won't. Relax.”

Martin carefully traces a finger over the bristles of Aron's abdomen, scratching lightly with a nail near the back, rewarded with a contented chitter.

“Then it's agreed,” he says, and they sit, quiet and sedate in each other's company until Jon and Emer come out.

–

Martin frets, so as he tramps down the uneven and rain-boggy hill, muttering and grumbling about the state of his boots, he throws out little questioning checks through the wide net their thread has become.

Aron, secure in the safehouse and out of the spitting rain, responses momentarily with reassuring pulses, wordless and rudimentary but implying safe – warm – dry.

Martin gets these placid reassurances three times in a row when he sends a hand-wringing anxious ?, before he's eventually gifted with a spikier snatch of mild frustration. The wave of safe – warm – alive – annoyed is speckled with the impression that whatever Jon, Emer and Aron are now doing, Martin's frequent checks are now disruptive.

A pause, and then a kinder wash that implies that Martin should hurry up and get back.

Martin leaves it at that and keeps his queries minimal.

It's while he's in the little shop that the humming connection shifts, a new harmony billowing into the background melody, and he's treated to a rising ball of crunched and cosy heat blooming and pulsing at his breastbone.

Martin knows what causes such a fireplace in him. He's been feeling it a lot recently. His hands suddenly don't feel as cold-nipped. He has to try and keep the smile off his face to avoid looking foolish as he peers at the 'two for three pound' offer on grapes, ticks vegetables off the shopping list, impulsively throws in some strawberries on the off-chance Jon might like them.

Another pulse, not three minutes later: a glint through his spine, like a cloud shifting and exposing a sun trap as he stares non-plussed at the spice isle, trying to decipher Jon's deplorable handwriting.

The steady sensation comes upon him with the regularity of waves upon a beach.

He has a pins-and-needles buzz at his fingertips as he makes the walk back, the bag handles digging into his palms, and even the rain, pouring hard from burdened storm clouds, does not dampen his mood.

He hears Jon's rumbling tumbling speech as he shoulders open the front door, hefting the bags into the entranceway.

“... and it's actually a common misapprehension, easily done by rudimentary scholars in the field, when in fact, a rather simplistic way of rectifying such an error is to...”

Martin watches and allows the smile to claim him utterly.

Jon is ironing. A little pile of ordered clothes on the sofa, precisely folded. Chattering away to his audience: Martin's spider soul, settled comfortable on Jon's shoulder. Martin waits long enough, and Jon, thoughtless and undisrupted in his lecture, reaches up to run his finger all the way from Aron's front section, poking one of his eyes more likely than not though Aron doesn't say a word, all the way down to his stubby spinnerets, doing this two or three times in a rhythmic gesture before he returns to his chore.

Martin feels bathed in an undemanding tenderness.

Emer has noticed his arrival where Jon hasn't. She flutters over to him, lands in his coarse briar bush of hair before alighting again and setting down on his shoulder, the position more to her satisfaction.

“You've missed a treat,” she says drolly, using her front legs to clean her long, feathery antennae. “He's been on a roll for about twenty minutes.”

“That's our Jon,” Martin murmurs. His eyes crinkle as she snorts a laugh.

They watch him for a minute.

“He irons his socks?” Martin continues, Jon using the steam function to neatly flatten the fabric over the toes obliviously.

“Even the socks,” Emer replies, ever so fond.

Another pause.

“Never thought I'd see the day when Jon would like spiders,” Martin says.

“Not any spiders,” Emer says, and she flutters her gossamer-white wings at him affectionately. “Just yours.”

Jon notices him then. His face breaking into softness. Helps him unload the shopping into their neatly categorised cupboards and newly cleaned fridge, makes them both tea though he steeps it too long and adds too much milk, sits up against him, folded up and knobbly-limbed as they channel-hop through the rubbish on TV.

Martin's soul sits safe on Jon's shoulder all evening.

#tma #the magnus archives #daemon au #martin's is a bold jumping spider #jon's is a white ermine moth #cws apply #implied emotional neglect #implied self hatred #cw poor parent-child relationships #elias's usual bastardry #non-consenual daemon touching #Martin's not explicitly ace in this but he's intended to be #jonmartin

94 notes · View notes

varian-the-unstable-alchemist · 3 years

Text

Arrival Redo

OKAY SO

VARIANS INITAL ARRIVAL WAS STUPID

THAT DIDNT HAPPEN

THIS HAPPENED INSTEAD

ANY QUESTIONS?NO?GOOD-

HERE

Im not tagging anyone okay-

just-

here

Yes I took inspiration from several fanfictions that I liked

please don't hate me

***

Varian looked down at the ground as he walked. Papers gathered in his arms, lost in thought. Rapunzel had tasked him with making the Dungeon more hospitable for prisoners, after he told her how terrible it was down there.

Being the Royal Engineer, he didn’t have the right to refuse, but he hated working on the project. He only needed to be down there for reference point, he wasn’t the one who would be carrying out the designs (thank god), but every second he was down there was like a weight pressing down on his chest. He constantly felt like he was stuck, like he wouldn’t be able to leave, and this place would be the last he would see. Not to mention the prisoners themselves. One in particular had been making the task nearly unbearable. He tried to ignore him, but the man knew exactly how to get under his skin...

He hadn’t told Rapunzel about his discomfort. It wasn’t up to him to decide which jobs he did and didn’t take on. And she’d been busy lately anyway, even though it’d been months since Zhan Tiri’s attack, they were still rebuilding. The pressure had only increased when her parents announced that they would be retiring soon, and Rapunzel would become queen.

Varian let out a breath, it’s okay, he could do this. He’d survived prison, attempted murder, all kinds of crazy magic, kidnapping, and a demon attack. He could survive this project. Besides, it wa-

Voices cut into his thoughts. Varian paused, looking to his left at a door that was slightly ajar. He weighed his options for a moment, before curiosity got the better of him. He moved to stand next to the door, leaning in to hear what the people inside were saying.

“-ust don’t know what to do, Nigel!” Varian recognized that voice as Rapunzel’s. She sounded frustrated.

“Your majesty, you already know my opinion on the matter.” Nigel’s nasally voice sounded from inside.

“I am not firing him! He’s the best person for the job and you know it! I-I just... he seems so stressed lately, and I don’t know how to help...”

“well, I’m not quite sure how to help with that, but, there is the matter of the letters.”

“We’ve already talked about the letters.”

“Princess, with all due respect, we can’t just ignore them.”

“Yes, we can! Just because a few citizens are upset that, doesn’t mean I’m going to change something that doesn’t need changing! And I want you to make sure that Varian doesn’t hear a single word about them!”

“Your highness, I-“

Varian had heard enough. He stepped into the room. “That I don’t hear a single word about what?”

Rapunzel looked up at her, eyes wide. She was unable to find words.

“The matters of the Princess are none of your concern.” Nigel said with undisguised dislike for the teen in front of him.

“They are if they involve me.” Varian said, crossing his arms.

“Varian I...” Rapunzel started “I-I can’t tell you, but trust me when I say that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great, so now you’re keeping things from me. Rapunzel, what is this about? What are the letters?”

“I...” she looked away, biting her lip. “...Varian, please...”

“You’re still not going to tell me?! They’re about me, aren’t they?”

Rapunzel looked away, and Varian felt his face heat in anger. He clenched his fists. “Fine! Fine, you’re not going to tell me, that’s fine.”

He turned, moving to storm towards the door.

“Varian-“ Rapunzel tried

“I’ll be in my lab.” He snapped, before slamming the door behind him.

***

Varian sat at a table at his workbench, leaned back and staring at the ceiling, letting the anger wash over him. Yes, he was being unreasonable, but he was sick and tired of being treated like a child, having things be kept from him simply because whomever was in question felt like he couldn’t handle it. Having one of the only people in the world he genuinely trusted do it...

The raccoon curled up on his chest chittered next to him, pressing his furry head into Varian’s cheek in an attempt to comfort him. The fuming boy took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, raising a gloved hand to scratch the ring-tailed bandit behind the ears. Ruddiger made a sound akin to purring in reply.

His lab was nice, to his tastes at least. It was messy, but it helped add to the personality. It’d been gifted to him along with the position of Royal Engineer.

Varian looked up at the sound of the door opening. He’d been expecting Rapunzel, and was surprised when he was met with Nigel instead. Ruddiger moved to curl around Varian’s shoulder’s protectively, narrowing his eyes at the man. The man looked around the cluttered room, distain and disgust easily visible on his face. There was a stack of paper clutched in his hand.

“What do you want?” Varian asked less than politely. He really wasn’t in the mood to bother with protocol.

Nigel moved his eyes to the teen in the chair with distaste. “You wanted to know what was in the letters, so here they are.”

He tossed the stack of papers the the ground next to Varian’s chair. Varian looked from the papers to him, puzzled.

“Wha-“

“If I’m being honest, I agree with every word they say. And, frankly I think a mutt you should follow their advice.” He turned, moving back towards the door. He paused at the doorway, looking back with his eyes narrowed and lips pulled back in a sneer. “By the way, you aren’t fooling anyone with your little drag show, young lady.”

He closed the door before Varian could spit a scathing comment. Ruddiger hissed at the closed door, tail swishing. Varian closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. This wasn’t the first time someone had purposely misgendered him. It shouldn’t effect him this much.

After a moment, he mulled over the first insult he’d used... “mutt” It left a foul taste in his mouth... dehumanizing. He guess it came from the fact that his parents had both been refugees, he wasn’t even Coronian... or, at least not in most people’s eyes. But he’d been born and raised here. To say that he was belonging to any other kingdom would feel wrong. It didn’t matter anyway. He took a deep breath and stood, walking over to the pile of paper.

Ruddiger’s ears flattened against his head, letting out an anxious trill. He pawed at Varian’s face, but Varian ignored him, looking down at the paper at the top of the stack.

“Princess Rapunzel,

As a Citizen, I have stood by all your decisions as Princess and temporary queen except for one. Your decision to pardon two of the kingdom’s most dangerous criminals is something I cannot possibly fathom. At least Cassandra has left the kingdom, but to keep the traitor Varian on staff? It’s honestly horrifying to me and several others. A dangerous criminal like him should be locked in prison or dead, kept away from yourself and your people, not gifted with a position so high in rank. I sincerely hope you take my words into account.

Wishing for the best,

A troubled citizen.”

Varian knew he should stop. He knew that nothing good could come from reading more, but he pressed on, flipping the page and reading the next.

“Varian,”

That was odd. It was addressed to him, why hadn’t he received it? Was the Princess Reading his mail?

“I don’t know what you’ve done to the royal family. Whether you’ve bewitched them or used some kind of mind game, I want you to know that you don’t have everyone fooled. If I were you, I’d turn yourself in or jump off Corona bridge before people discover your true intentions. Lord knows you deserve it after what you’ve done. We’re watching you.“

Varian pressed on. Some were signed, some weren’t (although very few had names attached), some addressed to himself, some to the Princess, a handful were even addressed to the king or queen. Some (he ones that Varian assumed were from old Corona), addressed him by his old name and called him a witch. But, despite the differing methods of explaining it, they all had the same idea; Varian was a dangerous criminal and shouldn’t be working at the castle.

When he’d finally finished reading, he sat there, numb. He closed his eyes, swallowing. He understood now why the Princess hadn’t wanted to show him. Despite acknowledging the Princess’s reasoning behind her actions, he didn’t regret reading them. Now he knew how people perceived him, now he knew that he had to be more careful.

Shakily, the ravenette stood, raising Ruddiger from where he’d been curled around Varian’s shoulders and placing him on his work chair. The small mammal trilled in worry for his human, tail swishing behind him. Varian gave his friend a small smile. (it was fake, of course, but Varian had become very skilled at making them look convincing as of late)

“It’s okay, buddy, I’m alright. I just need a minute alone... I’m going to take a walk...”

The raccoon reluctantly curled into a ball, still looking up at his human with concern as he turned, grabbed the backpack he kept with himself at all times when going out, and walked towards the door

The castle was relatively quiet, most people who usually resides here were out enjoying the beautiful day. Light filtered through the stained glass windows built into the wall. Varian had never re-adjusted to the light level of the capital. It was nicknamed the kingdom of the sun for a reason, but after the crushing darkness of the dungeon beneath his feet, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to take the brightness for granted again.

As he stepped out into the courtyard, several guards waved at him. He nervously waved back, anxiety bubbling in his chest at the sight of the uniform they wore. Eugene had given it a name... what was it? Fear of authority? That sounded right... strangely enough, Eugene was the only person in uniform that he wasn’t scared of.

He made his way through the capital, people around him going about their business. Their reactions to him were diverse, some smiled and waved, some sent glares his way, some ignored him completely. Varian kept his eyes fixed on the ground, trying to make himself small.

Eventually, he made it outside the main city. He walked across the bridge, keeping one hand on the railing. He paused in the center, eyes lingering on where he’d stood only a few months ago, looking down at the water as his form shook, trying to force himself to move forward.

He shook himself out of the memory, he was in a better place now. Sure, he still had the occasional depressive episode or panic attack, but he had been doing great considering all that had happened to him.

He stepped off the bridge, pausing a moment to decide whether he should keep going along the path or walk through the forest. He decided that the latter would be more interesting and started walking slightly to the left.

Because of Varian’s tendency to spend hours or even days locked in his room and his fascination with technology, one could guess that he wasn’t a nature person. But, in reality, the opposite was true. Varian was quite fond of the outdoors and of nature itself. He’d always been better with animals than he was with people, and a walk through the forest had always been his second favorite way to calm himself down (the first being alchemy, but even the idea itself was tiring to him at the moment). He sighed, closing his eyes and letting the sounds and feelings of the forest wash over him.

He wasn’t upset. The people who wrote the letters were justified on their feelings. He’d attacked the kingdom, tried to kill its leaders, been sent to prison, escaped with a Saporian terrorist, and taken over the kingdom. Then, in what must have seemed like the blink of an eye to them, Rapunzel had returned, completely pardoned him for everything he’d done, and been rewarded with a position of high honor. No wonder they were suspicious of him.

No, he wasn’t upset that multiple of them had told him to kill himself, or that he should be back in the prison he now hated with every fiber of his being.

He definitely wasn’t.

As for Rapunzel, he wasn’t angry at her. He knew her. She could be scarily protective when she needed to be, and she saw it as her duty to keep Varian safe. Emotionally and physically. He had no right to be angry that she’d read his mail, kept something as big as this from him, and still hadn’t fired that good-for-nothing advisor.

Since his recovery, he’d learned to keep all negative emotions under lock and key. Especially anger, now that he knew how quickly it could spiral out of control. So he knew that that definitely wasn’t what he was feeling as he walked deeper and deeper into the thickening trees.

It was precisely thirteen seconds after the teen decided that he was under no circumstances angry at Corona, its people, or its Princess, that he found himself falling.

2 notes · View notes

lupizora · 4 years

Text

No One Left Behind

This was my super late gift fic to WhatIsMagic over on the Boku no Ship Academia discord server for their Secret Santa 2019. Admittedly, lots of RL issues popped up to make the process more difficult than it already was. But procrastination is a bitch too... ^^” I’m happy with the end result though! It was my first time writing from Kirishima’s POV and the sunshine OT3, which turned out to be more fun than I expected~ Hope you enjoy!! ^w^

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure/Romance

Pairing: Kirikacchako

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,235

Summary: Kirishima's life was simple. Along with Bakugou, his partner-in-crime, they roamed the land in search of a place to call home. They even had a solid plan in his opinion. But life doesn't get any easier because you're a fire-breathing dragon. Especially not after meeting a charming yet tougher-than-she-looks witch that's asking for a fight.

Fight us? She’s so tiny! Kirishima had thought upon landing his gaze on Uraraka for the first time.

From barely reaching the knee of his dragon foot to the deteriorating state of her clothes, the Mage hadn’t appeared to be a threat. Not until she managed to knock down Kirishima with a single attack.

This infuriated his partner-in-crime and the land’s most dangerous bandit, Bakugou Katsuki. No amount of foes had been able to do that before, neither this fast. So he attacked Uraraka without holding back while Kirishima tried to stand again, pain traveling on his long skull like ripples on a lake.

Their fight seemed endless. Through his dragon vision, Kirishima could follow it easily despite the dust cloud they raised while dueling. It had been forever since he had last seen Bakugou being equally matched by anyone. Yet, this girl made him struggle with her wind magic, forcing him at some point to use his explosive fire magic. It resulted in leveling the first line of trees surrounding the glade Uraraka had found them.

As the aftershocks of that clash resided, Kirishima decided this had run long enough. Someone from the nearby village would come to chase them out; bringing more trouble than this dispute was worth. He could admit the Mage had guts though. Holding her ground against Bakugou with ferocity akin to a mother bear was an admirable feat. But they had to stop. Kirishima sprained his mind, trying to figure out how to resolve this fight without hurting their pride. All he came up with was sitting in between them during a pause for breath. This effectively blocked their path of attack, redirecting their general frustration at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bakugou shouted, striking his blades against the dragon’s scales.

Kirishima couldn’t feel anything so he left him to rage and addressed the Mage. ”We aren’t going to hurt anyone. We’re simply passing by on our way to the Elderworm Forest.”

She stared at him with wide eyes as if it was her first time seeing a dragon talk. The attention felt different though. Sure, she stared but it wasn’t the unsettling glare most peasants gave Kirishima like they pondered whether he would eat them or not. Her smell was flowery sweet like awe and wonder, instead of the sharp tang of fear. Flames danced in his stomach like fleeting butterflies.

“I see,” said the Mage. “If that’s the case, uh… Mr. Dragon.”

“Kirishima,” he said with a snicker. “Just call me Kirishima.”

“Alright…You seem kind, Kirishima, so I believe you.” She grabbed her staff tighter and tried to glance over at Bakugou. “But he—”

“I’m what, Round Face?” Bakugou sneered. “Not worth your time?”

“I’d say rude and tactless but you know that already,” she mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You got some nerve! Third-class Mages like you should know their place.”

“Oh? I wonder what your bandit brothers will say when they find I swiped the floor with you!”

Kirishima placed a paw on Bakugou’s head to prevent him from attacking her again. “How about we all calm down and eat something? It’s getting late and dinner tastes better with a company, don’t you think?”

Both adversaries huffed in annoyance. Their growling stomachs betrayed them though and they reluctantly agreed to the idea with blushing faces. Leaving them at opposite sides of the clearing, Kirishima set up camp. He had plenty of fallen tree trunks at his disposal to create a small pure in the middle. After lighting it up with his dragon breath, he forced Bakugou to quit his sulking and unpack their things from Kirishima’s back. They were running low on vegetables and other spices the bandit used in their meals but had enough meat to last them until the next big town. So Kirishima wasn’t too worried. After all, Bakugou could make everything taste good even with the bare minimum of materials. It was one of the reasons the dragon enjoyed traveling together. Things used to taste very bland before.

Soon, the smell of a freshly cooked meal spread in the clearing. Kirishima’s mouth watered, saliva dripping on the ground and sizzling whenever it hit the burning embers of the fire.

“Watch it,” Bakugou scolded him. “You’d get drool all over the food!”

He whined in return and dropped his head between his front legs, wagging his tail like a puppy dog. Of course, this motion raised quite the racket coming from an overgrown lizard. Annoyed from this distraction, his friend eventually threw him a half-cooked rib. Kirishima gobbled it whole in one go.

As he was licking his snout in delight, his gaze fell on the Mage. She was sitting on a log at the furthest point the fire could reach. They had introduced each other properly while setting camp earlier. Her name was Uraraka Ochako, a wandering Mage currently in her thesis quest. She had to complete the quest to graduate from her Master Wizard school. It sounded like a lot of trouble for a seal of approval to Kirishima, but humans always had to make things more complicated than they should.

Picking another freshly cooked piece of meat from Bakugou’s makeshift pan, Kirishima approached Uraraka and placed it on a smooth rock in front of her.

“Is that for me?” Uraraka asked, surprised.

“Yup!” He took a seat next to her. “And it’s not poisoned if that’s worrying you.”

She cooed and picked it up bare-handed. “That’s so sweet of you. I’ve been starving actually!” Ignoring the look of hatred Bakugou directed at her from the other side of the fire, she inhaled the food in a matter of moments.

No lie. She must have been really hungry, Kirishima thought.

He hadn’t seen a human woman eat so carelessly and messy before. It was different in a good way; like everything about her seemed to be.

They spent the better of the night talking about this and that until both Mages fell asleep. Kirishima stayed awake a little longer, self-conscious of Uraraka’s back leaning against his side. Her body heat was nothing compared to the raging inferno in his gut. But it made his thoughts travel far and wide.

Maybe those exact thoughts were the reason when—come morning—he asked Uraraka to join along in their journey to the Elderworm Woods—much to Bakugou’s loud and very vocal objections.

“No.”

“We’re all headed in the same direction.”

“I refuse!”

Kirishima dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “Technically, I’m the one carrying the bags so it’s my shot to make.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Bakugou said. “I’m the one in charge.”

“Please don’t make me say things I’ll regret, man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

“That you just don’t want me along because I kicked your butt,” Uraraka said. She had perched on a tree branch, observing the scene at a safe distance from Bakugou’s fire-like powers.

He turned around, pointing his finger at her. “You stay out of it! This is between me and my partner.”

Seeing this was going to turn into another fight, Kirishima donned his human form and stood in between them again. “She’s coming or we’re walking there and that’s final.” He said to Bakugou.

He appeared firm and serious, but his insides were coiling with anxiety. It was rare for the dragon to directly challenge Bakugou’s ‘authority’ like this. More often than not, Kirishima let Bakugou take the initiative because their goals aligned, not out of fear. Kirishima could withstand most magic attacks with ease after all. Except when it came to Uraraka’s magic. He couldn’t understand what had come over him regarding the Mage. It worried him not that she beat him. There was a first time for everything and Kirishima wasn’t the strongest dragon in the land at the end of the day. He told himself that her coming along wasn’t just to keep a close watch on her. He wanted Uraraka to come, simple as that.

Bakugou crossed his arms, still scowling. “Fine. But she’s cooking her meals.”

Kirishima grinned. “Aye, sir!” He turned around but his words were cut short.

Once she got a glimpse of his face, Uraraka fell from the branch into the bushes underneath the tree.

“Gods!” Kirishima rushed to her and parted the vegetation. “Are you alright?”

Uraraka straightened her hooded hat. “Yes! I...lost my balance is all!” she said with a cheerful high-pitched squeak, taking his offered hand. After standing up, Uraraka continued holding onto it. Her fingers trailed the larger scales along his forearm before stopping on the underside of his human arm. She seemed mesmerized from the smaller pebble-like scales he had there instead of smooth skin.

Bakugou’s curt cough snapped her out of whatever trance she had entered.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, Kirishima!” Uraraka said, blushing and waving her hands in front of her. “That was rude of me. I should have asked you if it was okay. I’m very sorry!”

The dragon returned his gaze on his arm. Warmth, unlike any he’d felt before, spread from the spots she had touched him. “You don’t have to apologize,” Kirishima stammered, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t remember the last time anyone grabbed my hand so carelessly.”

“I see.” Her rosy cheeks turned, if possible, redder. “If that’s settled then...I should get my things ready! Bye!” She bolted in the direction of the camp.

Her reaction puzzled Kirishima but he didn’t press the matter any further. They had an entire trip ahead to figure out things if they had to.

Bakugou remained uncharacteristically silent for the rest of that day.

***

Uraraka turned out to be a pleasant company indeed. With a spring in her step, she filled the following weeks with joy and excitement. Everything amazed her. From flowers growing on top of ancient columns, to the way Kirishima’s scales glistened when the sun hit them just right. It was contagious.

Even Bakugou started warming up to her. Especially after discovering how terrible were her actual cooking skills.

“No one can burn boiling water,” he said while throwing away the remains of Uraraka’s shoddy kettle, “or turn perfectly solid meat into slime. How you made it this far is beyond me!”

The Mage joined her hands together with an awkward smile. “People’s generosity?”

Bakugou shot his meanest stinky eye and begrudgingly accepted to involve her in their meal plans. He didn’t change his overall attitude towards Uraraka though; always keeping his distance as if uncertain of what to think of her. In Kirishima’s eyes, it was a tentative first step forward at least.

They eventually fell into a peaceful routine in their traveling. Guards stopped chasing Kirishima and Bakugou the moment they spotted them in town, allowing them a couple of hours to browse for supplies before sounding the alarm. As the group traveled mostly through the air, they had already covered a great distance by the time kingdom forces were alerted.

Kirishima had been worried Uraraka might come to the wrong conclusions. The duo weren’t criminals. Bakugou had simply ridiculed the current ruler once, and the King hadn’t taken it lightly. But Uraraka laughed her heart out when the dragon tried to explain the situation, calling it silly and dropping the subject. Relief washed over Kirishima. He let her ride on his head for the rest of that flight, smiling all the way. His partner, surprisingly, didn’t complain about the sitting arrangement for once.

This serenity was a fragile and fleeting state to remain for long though.

***

Things started going downhill when they reached the Great Mountains. Those massive blocks of earth, rising white and blue from the mist, were the last barrier before the Elderworm Woods. Plenty had attempted to cross them in the past; most giving up from the harsh cold and lack of proper passages. However, Kirishima had been confident about making it across when he had first suggested it to Bakugou. He could keep the Barbarian warm even if his winter garments and furs failed him. But the dragon hadn’t planned for a third person in their group, more so how it would distract him from his duties. The Gods had their way to jog his memory though.

On the third day of their crossing, while they were scaling a steep slope, Bakugou slipped. Kirishima could only stare in shock as his partner fell, his cape billowing behind him. Something passed next to Kirishima in a blur. It was Uraraka free-falling. The action startled him enough to snap out of his trance. Kirishima jumped after them, his wings unfolding from behind his back as he regained his dragon form. Passing through the clouds that had settled around the cliff, he found them suspended in midair. A pink aura was covering both their bodies like a shimmering cloak, but it flickered around Uraraka. She continued chanting; hands shaking around her magic staff. Her levitation spell wouldn’t last long.

With Bakugou too dumbfounded to reason, Kirishima just hovered below him and called for Uraraka to drop him. She did with a relieved sigh. Feeling Bakugou’s weight settle on his saddle, Kirishima flew upwards and picked the Mage midair. They reached the top and landed smoothly on the plateau there.

As Uraraka stroke Kirishima’s snout, Bakugou approached them with heavy steps and turned her around to face him.

“What did you do?” He yelled.

Uraraka stared back, the sharp scent of fear emanating from her body. “I saved… you.”

“Get one thing straight, Round Face. I didn’t need your help! Not now, not ever.”

“But you’d have died!” She released her arm from his grip. “I couldn’t just stand there and let you perish!”

“Spare me this shit,” he snapped back. “I have a motherfucking dragon on my side. Kirishima would have caught me before I hit the ground.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Both turned their questionable gaze at him.

Kirishima stared at his feet, his two hearts beating erratically. “I froze for a moment back there. Yeah, I might have had reached you but I can’t say that for sure. If Uraraka hadn’t intervened…”

Bakugou huffed and withdrew to the furthest corner of the plateau.

The Mage and the dragon set camp by themselves, occupying their thoughts with small talk and jokes.

Later on, when night had spread her silky midnight veil over the horizon and Uraraka had fallen asleep against Kirishima’s side, he heard the shuffling of clothes and steps approaching. The faint aroma of caramel Bakugou gave off was the only reason Kirishima wasn’t alarmed and continued to pretend to be asleep. The steps seized when they reached the dragon’s right side.

“You didn’t have to side with her,” Bakugou said.

Kirishima finally opened one eye to look at him. “I was being honest.”

“Bullshit.”

“It was the truth and you know it. You’d have been injured or worse, dead.”

“I’m not afraid of death,” Bakugou said. “It comes for everyone in the end.” Stepping on Kirishima’s snout, he scaled the dragon’s head to sit between his horns. “Your tongue has been getting ahead of itself lately.”

“Is that a problem?” Kirishima didn’t need to study his partner’s face to understand this was troubling him.

“It’s a bother, that’s what it is.” Bakugou flopped backward. “Where is this audacity coming from?”

“I’m not saying anything different than I did before.” Kirishima snorted. “You react to it more now.”

“I do not!”

“If you say so, man.”

Bakugou huffed. “She was being reckless,” he said, returning to their previous argument. “The idiot could have killed us both with that risky plan.”

“I thought it was brave,” Kirishima said wistfully. “And Uraraka did save your life, dude. You gotta thank her!”

“Whatever.” His cape slipped over the dragon’s right ear as Bakugou laid on his side. “Just go to sleep.”

Typical, Kirishima thought with a fond eye-roll.

His partner would prefer to set himself on fire before he acknowledged anyone’s help, even if that assistance had saved him from plummeting to his certain death. But if there was one thing bothering Kirishima was his own reaction back then. He prided himself in his quick reflexes. And yet, Uraraka’s smile had distracted him.

Could this be dangerous? he wondered while drifting asleep.

***

After the fiasco with the cliff, Bakugou decided he had his fill with scaling the mountains. If they could fly to reach them, they could fly across them too. No one objected to this plan at first, but it quickly turned into an extremely awkward ride. Bakugou hadn’t exchanged a single word with Uraraka since the incident and neither did she. Having to sit close, due to the harsh cold, didn’t prompt them to mend their differences either.

This negativity tired Kirishima. He was doing all the hard work. Couldn’t these two clear the tension between them? If only until they reached their destination at least.

The Gods granted his wish in the form of a snowstorm. Strong winds were bending his wings in the wrong directions. His second eyelid protected his eyes from the snow, but Kirishima couldn’t see clearly from the fogginess it accumulated.

“Hold on!” He shouted as dark shapes sprouted in front of him. The last thing he heard before colliding with something solid where his party’s screams.

When Kirishima opened his eyes again, everything was white. Ice and snow slid from his belly as he turned around to stand on all fours. His ears were ringing and his front was sore from his fall. Still, he craned his neck to find his saddle empty.

Panic flared in his chest as Kirishima scanned the horizon.

Oh, no… How long has it been?

There was nothing but plan hills made of snow as far as his eyes could reach.

No. I didn’t ask for this.

He dashed ahead, the ground parting beneath him in waves.

No! That’s not what I wanted.

Sure, things would be better if they got along. Bakugou was his friend, his partner, the closest thing he had to family anymore. The world could be against him and his personality had seen better days, but Kirishima had sworn to be there for him, in thick and thin. Compared to that, his relationship with Uraraka was still fresh; an uncharted, delicate bond Kirishima was only starting to make sense off. But if anything happened to her, none of his hearts wouldn’t take it.

Something shimmered on his left. The air was different around that terrain as if there was a boiling pot buried underneath. Kirishima bolted in that direction, not paying any attention at how the snow got deep enough to reach his shoulder. It was getting warmer.

After a long final jump, he landed on something soft and squishy. Releasing his fire, Kirishima melted the ice around it to reveal a pink force-field. Two forms were huddled together in its center, under Bakugou’s fur-lined cape.

“Guys!” Kirishima shouted.

Uraraka’s eyes fluttered open and she offered him a weak smile. The field started dissipating, allowing him to enter. Kirishima didn’t waste time and curled around them, offering his body’s heat. Relief washed over him, filling his eyes with water. Just as Kirishima settled his head on his tail, his gaze crossed with Bakugou’s red.

“Why are you crying, idiot?” The Barbarian murmured, exhausted.

He sniffed. “I almost lost you again.”

Bakugou scoffed and rapped his knuckles against the dragon’s scales. “You’re here now and that’s what fucking matters.”

***

When they resumed their traveling, the tension was gone. Uraraka even settled in Bakugou’s lap and he had to hug her to hold the reins. At first, Kirishima didn't pay much attention to it. They had been in mortal peril before, almost freezing to death. Of course, they would cuddle for warmth. Kirishima went as far as to congratulate Uraraka for convincing his stubborn partner to go with the original plan. Her flustered reaction tipped him off that something was amiss though. Ignoring the sour taste it left in his mouth, Kirishima focused on getting them away from these cursed mountains instead.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and after a particular steep peak, the Elderworm Woods unfolded before their eyes; a vast green sea, full of creatures with every size and color under the sun. Giant trees—taller than the High Castle itself—spread over the terrain. Magic rode on the wind like sparkly ribbons made of stars. Kirishima could sense it, filtering through his wings and bouncing on his scales.

It felt like home.

His excitement carried over to the others. Uraraka was tracing her fingers through the air with glee. A small smile spread across Bakugou’s face as he tried to see everything at once.

They were happy and it should have been enough. Kirishima didn’t want to think about the consequences of reaching their destination. But as they settled for the night, he was unable to sleep. Scenario upon scenario bounced around his head like excited fox-squirrels. What all of them had in common was Uraraka or Bakugou or, Gods forbid, both leaving him behind. He could stay in this forest forever but could they?.

The blooming romance between the two only increased Kirishima’s worry. Bakugou wasn’t the type of guy to sit in a field of flowers with anyone before; more so with someone, he had been on the fence for a while. Whenever Kirishima asked him about it, the Barbarian claimed he was helping Uraraka with her thesis. The sooner she finished, the better for everyone. Uraraka would return to her Academy, he and Kirishima would return on their adventuring. Yet, by observing them, it seemed more like Bakugou stalled on purpose. Chasing Uraraka around while she was gathering herbs. Climbing with her on trees to stargaze or exploring the forest together.

Kirishima couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. He didn’t want to get in the way of their happiness either.

So one day, while Uraraka went on her regular herb-hunting, Kirishima grabbed Bakugou and flew to the nearest hill. Despite his protests, the Barbarian remained quiet after their landing. Transforming into his human form, Kirishima took a seat on a boulder. He had gone over his words several times. Still, he didn’t know where to begin.

“If you have something to say, just get this over with.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “She’s gonna get worried and whine about it.”

Kirishima took the crumb, like a drowning man looking for a lifeline. “That’s what I wanna talk about.”

“Uraraka’s whining?”

“No! Uraraka in general.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And she’s kind-hearted enough to worry about us. You should give her more credit about that.”

“Fine. What about her?”

“I’ve noticed she acts differently around you lately. I mean you still have your arguments and rivalry going on, but it’s more mellow than before. Almost like teasing,” Kirishima said, pulling at some weeds. “I don’t think you notice it but you have this look on your face whenever Uraraka is around like spring has come early.” Saying his observations aloud wasn’t supposed to hurt. But Kirishima’s insides were twisting; as if the fire in his lungs had escaped to the rest of his body. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious that you like her and she does too. So I—“

“Huh?!” Birds flew away from the foliage nearby, Bakugou’s yell scaring them off. His eyes were so wide, they might as well had popped up from their sockets at any moment. “You serious?” He said, calmer but still in a tone of disbelief. “Are you blind? She likes you!”

“What?” It was Kirishima’s turn to stare as if madness had contaminated his partner.

Bakugou started passing. His cape swiped the ground, raising dust behind him. “She never shuts up about you. Always has a nice word and a smile for you. Haven’t you learned anything about human courtship all these years?” He turned around to point dramatically at him. “You obviously like her back too. Giving her the best part of the meat. Offering rides. Looking at her as if you worship the ground she walks on. So don’t joke around!”

“I’m not! I’m not human, man. I may look like the part from time to time. Deep down though, I’m too different to completely understand her,” he said. Clenching his scale-covered fists, Kirishima stood up to reason with his partner. “I’m a monster. That’s why she’s better off with you anyway.”

“Bullshit!” Bakugou bonked him on the head. “You’re soft-hearted to a fault! People see someone big that breathes fire and they think he’s dangerous. We both know that you’d be better off at some secluded cave in the mountains than go around burning villages,” he said with a wave. “So what if I am human? They are scared of me! Who, in their right mind, would want to be around someone who half the kingdom is asking for his head?”

“You’re not that scary, man,” Kirishima said. “I’ve stayed by your side for so long, didn’t I?”

“You don’t classify as ‘someone in his right mind’ for exactly that reason.” Bakugou took a deep breath. “Never. Not once, I got that reaction from you. As if you aren’t fazed by anything and everything in the world is your friend. So don’t give me this crap of being a monster. If there is one, that’s me. And Uraraka is better off with someone that can treat her right.”

“But she’s so head-over-heels for you, dude!” Kirishima shook him by the shoulders. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

Bakugou grabbed him by the horns and pressed their foreheads together. “You are the one in denial and projecting your feelings on me.”

“Just admit it!”

“You admit it!”

“Don’t I have a say in all this?” Uraraka’s voice, albeit sweet with a tinge of a hidden laugh in her tone, dropped like lighting right then and there.

The boys untangled themselves and stared back at her. Uraraka held her wand on one hand and a patch of herbs under the other. Her hair and clothes were a mess. She probably flew to this hill too since their camp was at least a mile away. Her body language wasn’t showing any angry signs. But Kirishima could smell the anxiety oozing from her in waves.

“I thought something happened,” Uraraka said with a sigh. “And here you are, arguing over something so stupid!”

It stunk. Was there a possibility she wasn’t romantically interested in either of them and they had made a fool of themselves, treating her as an object and not a person with her own will?

“What do you mean?” Bakugou demanded to know.

“I have two hands!” Uraraka exclaimed frustrated.

Kirishima didn’t understand the statement and by Bakugou’s blank expression, neither did he.

“Of course you have two hands,” the dragon offered. “You’re a human. That’s normal.”

Uraraka huffed. Leaving her staff and the herbs on the ground, she approached them with a confident stance. Both boys took an involuntary step back, not sure what to expect of her. When Uraraka finally stood in front of them, she took ahold of one hand from each.

“See?” she asked with a blinding smile. “We can all stay together this way.”

Bakugou figured it out first. His whole face turned the same shade of red as Kirishima’s scales. Heat emanated from his body, small wisps of smoke trailing from his free fist.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Barbarian muttered, not looking any of them in the eye.

Kirishima scratched his cheek, still staring at their joint hands as if it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “I don’t get it,” he said.

"It means I like you both, silly!" Uraraka said as if it was the simplest concept in the world.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Bakugou grabbed Kirishima by his jacket. "That's all you have to say?"

The dragon allowed his body to be rocked sideways. "Why are you angry, man? This great! I haven't heard of a three people's mating but it could work, right?"

Bakugou's face turned, if possible, redder than before. "Like hell it is!" He turned to Uraraka. "And you. I don't know what possessed you, Round Face. This idiot here isn't some pet you keep in your backyard and throw away when it's too big to fit there. He is someone with feelings you can hurt with statements like that. Last week, he cried because he thought he destroyed a badgers nest!"

"I know! That's why I like him!" Uraraka said. "For his heart is his biggest strength and his smile is...” She blushed. “Adorable.”

“Really?” Kirishima pointed at his razor-sharp teeth. “Don’t you think it’s scary?”

“Says who?” Bakugou scoffed. “It’s badass, that’s all.”

Uraraka cooed—to the Barbarian’s embarrassment—before her grin turned into a frown. “I still can’t believe both of you like me. I thought I was getting between you two.”

“What?!” The boys cried.

“Hear me out!” she said. “You called each other ‘partner’ all the time.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou said. “Because we are comrades-in-arms.”

“I was watching you two from the day I met you. It always looked like something more.”

At that moment, a particularly challenging battle flashed before Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou and he had been separated. Soldiers were surrounding the dragon to stop him. Kirishima did feel a bit sorry for them when he resumed his human form and broke through their blockade. It hadn’t lasted for long though, as the mindset of battle overcame him. With half a mind, he continued searching for his partner. Deep down, Kirishima knew it was unnecessary. Bakugou was a powerful wizard and a merciless warrior; he didn’t need assistance. But he was also human and not having him in his sight, made Kirishima worry.

During a lull in the battle, he finally spotted ash-blond spiky hair in the distance. The Barbarian had lost his cape, fighting bare-chested with his trusty curved blades on both hands. Bloodstains littered his body but they weren’t from his wounds. Kirishima dropped the soldier he had just defeated, watching mesmerized while Bakugou fought simultaneously against three enemies with a wicked grin on his face. It was a memory the dragon held dear in his two hearts because it was what real freedom looked like to him.

“I guess that’s true,” Kirishima said with a shy smile.

Pulling his hand away, Bakugou turned around with arms crossed. His scent was resembling more of burnt caramel and smoke escaped his clenched fists in bulk.

“Said something wrong?” Uraraka asked.

Although his expression wasn’t visible, Kirishima knew they didn’t have to worry. If anything, the Barbarian’s ears still had a touch of red to them.

“No,” Bakugou grumbled. “You’re just disgustingly corny.”

The dragon and the Mage exchanged a knowing look before both tackled him from behind.

“Get off me!”

“We love you, too!” Uraraka chimed.

Kirishima’s hearts were hammering so loud in his chest. Joy, unlike any he felt before, filled him to the brim like a magic boost. Without Kirishima realizing, his wings unfolded and he shot to the sky above them with an excited roar. He didn’t have to choose between them nor would he be left behind. They could stay together for as long as they lived.

“Put us down, you idiot!” Bakugou shouted over the wind. “You can be happy on the ground too!”

#kirikacchako #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #dragon!kirishima #barbarian!bakugou #witch!uraraka #bnha fantasy au #fantasy rpg au #fantasy au #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #secret santa #bnsa secret santa 2019 #wolfswriting

131 notes · View notes

thewritewolf · 4 years

Text

Two Cursed Detectives in Paris: Landing

Chasing down their suspect has lead Connor and Eerie, two detectives cursed with animal-like qualities, to France. There they find two kids madly in love with each other, even if they don't realize it yet. But with the help of two American detectives, love might just find a way...

Based on the Chouette! story and artwork that can be found here.

(If you haven't seen Chouette! before, then don't worry - I explain everything that matters for the plot.)

Hello and welcome to this fic that I have been very much looking forward to for the past month! I've been obsessed with Chouette since I first saw it in April of last year, so combining my two favorite obsessions into one gloriously fluffy fic felt only natural. And if I can get you to join me in this fledgling fandom, then I'll be absolutely thrilled!

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Broadly speaking, she was cursed.

Although not in the sense that most people thought of when they heard the word “Cursed.” ‘Oh, my hair just won’t cooperate! I must be cursed!’ ‘My TV is flickering, it must be cursed!’

No, she really was cursed. If the talon-like nails, the head that swiveled three hundred and sixty degrees, and a host of other little abnormalities were anything to go off of, then probably cursed by the spirit of an owl. Or maybe she was possessed by an owl spirit? Honestly she had never been too clear on how it all worked despite living with it since middle school. It’s not like she’d been given a handbook or introductory pamphlet to help her through those first few rough months. Or the rough years that followed.

The ‘owl horns’ in her hair could be held down by her bow and the talons just looked like well manicured nails, but the red eyes and orange marking around her eyes like a mask were a dead give away. Not to mention the mossy green hair. At twenty two years old, it hadn’t been a long life so far, but it had certainly been full of struggle.

But that was who she was to the people who just saw her curse and decided not to look any further.

More specifically, she was Eerie. Eerie Escamilla, top of her class out of law school, junior detective and intern at the Cursed Special Unit, filled with people with a similar… background to her. A snore drew her attention to her left, toward one such person.

Connor MacThomas was cursed, like her, but with a raccoon rather than an owl. They hadn’t let him bring his favorite pillow with him into their first class seating, but he managed with his soft and bushy tail. She had to bite her lip to keep from aw’ing at the way his little raccoon ears twitched ever so slightly in his sleep. It wouldn’t do to be cooing at someone who was debatably her boss but unquestionably the more experienced detective between them.

Evidently, he could feel her eyes on him since he chose that moment to wake up. He yawned and stretched, his gloved hands grasping at the roof of the airplane. His hands were his greatest strength and his glaring weakness - so sensitive he could read the mood of a person by touch, which also made them so vulnerable he kept them in sturdy leather gloves worn thin by constant use.

His eyes, with their light blue sclera, opened up as he blinked at her, a bleary smile on his lips. Those eyes stood out all the more for the black mask, so similar to her own orange one, surrounding them. Another person might have thought that his crumbled, messy appearance was because he’d just spent the last five hours sleeping curled up on himself. But Eerie knew that was just how he always looked.

He adjusted himself, pulling down his shirt since it had ridden up a little. Her eyes followed the movement and she felt her cheeks heat up. Her heart fluttered and she quickly looked away, towards the window. A bad idea, given her fear of heights and suddenly her heart was fluttering for a different reason entirely. Her eyes widened and her breathing started to come in short bursts.

“Eerie?” Connor seemed to pick up on her panic quickly, if the concern in his voice was any indication. “Eerie. Boss. Look at me.” With a force of effort, she tore her eyes away from the window. “I didn’t pay much attention to the briefing. Why don’t you tell me about this mission?”

That was a blatant lie, but she was too grateful to call him out on it. She took a deep breath and gladly switched into lecture mode.

“We’ve been on this guy’s tail for the last couple months, picking apart his forgery operation back home.”

Connor grinned and stretched his hands. “Most of which was spent convincing rich people to let me get my paws all over their fancy but fake statues and busts.”

“And the rest of it was me doing meticulous art research,” Eerie said, rolling her eyes with a smirk.

“Of course, boss.” Connor didn’t break eye contact as he reached behind him to close the window with one hand. “And then what?”

“Well, I noticed that all the pieces had one thing in common - all the authentic ones are currently housed in the Louvre. And considering a lot of them aren’t even on display for the public-”

“Explaining why the fancy art people didn’t know they were being had.”

“-that means that the guy we’ve been after is in Paris, France and likely works at the Louvre. The local authorities have it up to their necks just trying to handle some crazy stuff happening in the French capital, so when the Chief offered to send the detectives already on the case...”

“...They were more than happy to accept,” Connor finished. “And luckily, we both know French, so this works out à la perfection.”

Eerie made a disapproving sound. “About that last part…”

“Yeah, boss?” A stewardess handed him a package of peanuts which he quickly tore into.

“I learned French because it was the only foreign language they offered in high school and I thought being bilingual would be good for a resume.” Eerie propped her elbow up on their armrest and put her chin on her hand, staring at Connor. “But you never seemed the type to care about stuff like that. Why did you learn French?”

To her surprise, he blushed. “It’s, uh… it’s not important.”

“Really?” Eerie blinked innocently at him. “So you wouldn’t mind telling me then. Right?”

Connor stuck out his tongue at her. “Nosey.”

“Comes with the detective territory, boss. Spill.”

After watching her for a long moment, he slumped his shoulders and groaned. “I did it to impress a girl, alright?”

Eerie’s eyebrows flew up. “Wow, really?”

“It was middle school okay?” Connor crossed his arms as his tail twitched in irritation behind him. “It didn’t work either, obviously. That was, uh, just before the whole curse thing happened. But I stuck with it!” Connor paused. “Well, mostly.”

“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?”

“Well, I’m conversational at least…”

“Connor! You said you were fluent!”

“No,” he replied. “I said I can speak it.”

“That-” Eerie stopped herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a complication, but if anyone could manage to get by without knowing the native language, it was Connor. He was more resourceful than he looked. “Okay, fine.”

Their conversation was cut short as the pilot announced that they would be landing soon. They glanced at each other, Eerie locked eyes with him as he began eating the package the peanuts came in. Both of them reached the same conclusion. With more people waking up around them, it wasn’t as safe to talk about their assignment. It would have to wait until the hotel.

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

Connor's hand hesitated at the door to their shared hotel room. Knowing their mission designer, he’d half expected her to get them a room with only one bed. Jemina was great and all, but sometimes she was even more pushy about his relationship with Eerie than his own mother was. He opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, this room did have two beds. With some big business event happening in Paris at the moment, two rooms was out of the question.

“As much as I appreciate being stuck staring at your fluffy butt, can you get a move on?” Eerie’s voice brought him back into the moment. “This stuff is heavy.”

“Right, sorry.” He stood still for another moment and looked behind him. “...So you like what you see back there, huh?” His tail swished back and forth happily.

She rolled her eyes and pushed him with her foot. Snickering, he stepped forward set to work turning the bed into something almost like home. Before long, he heard her speak up again.

“...How did you manage to pack your giant banana pillow?”

“Very carefully,” Connor said in what he hoped was a cool and mysterious way. “I figured you wouldn’t let me build a nest of pillows and blankets-”

“Accurate. I don’t want to get the house keepers annoyed with us. We’ll be here for the next few weeks after all.”

“-so this is the next best thing. Thankfully for me, Nanners here is a cuddlebug.” To prove his point, Connor laid down on his bed and spooned the person-sized banana. He opened one eye to see Eerie hiding a smile with her hand. His heart melted at how cute she was in this moment.

His eyes widened at the thought. She’s your intern, he mentally chastised himself, get ahold of yourself. He quickly sat up and put his legs over the side of his bed, facing Eerie.

“So now we’re in Paris. You remember the next part?”

“Yup, some of us pay attention to the mission briefing.” Eerie rolled her eyes, but a smirk still played at her lips. “Tomorrow, we’ll be setting up our covers. Chief managed to get us some part time jobs. Apparently I’m going to be doing deliveries for a local bakery.”

Connor frowned. “That sounds delicious. Is it too late to switch?” He asked with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“Way too late. But hey,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to be an English tutor for some rich kid, I’m sure they’ll keep you well fed.” She pursed her lips. “With actual people food. So no digging around in the garbage.”

Connor feigned a gasp. “Boss, this is Paris! They have the finest, most gourmet trash in the whole world. How can you ask me not to try the local cuisine?”

“It’s not- No! We’re going to actual restaurants, I’m not letting you dumpster dive while we’re here. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember? And that’s exactly the sort of thing that will draw unwanted attention.”

“You’re just using that as an excuse ‘cuz you don’t want me eating garbage.” He waggled his finger right below her nose. She gently pushed it aside, but even with that brief touch he could a vague feeling of her emotions - a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“You’re exactly right. Is it working?”

His tail flicked back and forth irritatedly behind him. “...Maybe,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she said with far too much pep for his liking. “Now, it’s been a long day and we don’t start our new jobs until tomorrow. I’m going to take a nap.”

Connor yawned. “I think I’ll do the same.”

“You slept for most of the trip here!”

“And that was very exhausting!”

Eerie stared at the ceiling for a few long moments before laughing and soon enough he joined her.

“Good night, boss.”

“Night, boss.”

#Chouette Fanfic #Miraculous Ladybug #Connor MacThomas #Eerie Escamilla #ml fanfiction #my writing #Two Cursed Detectives in Paris

75 notes · View notes

onebloodsoakedlion · 4 years

Text

Entertainment at all Costs Prologue

Entertainment at all Costs Prologue: Crucified

Ryoma had found himself nailed by his paws to two perdendicular lengths of rubber-coated metal. People had surrounded him, mostly dressed up like Nohrians, hurling insults at him, telling him he should’ve committed seppuku, calling him a lobster, showing him videos of him killing himself. In all honesty, it wasn’t the physical pain of being nailed to this... thing... but rather the psychological torment the people were putting him through. “Hey,” a woman’s voice raspily called out to him. Ryoma turned his head to his right and saw a darker-skinned woman with messy black hair wearing a grey hoodie and black jeans, nailed to a similar structure, except it was made completely out of wood, “Think of it this way, at least you’re gonna die eventually and your suffering will end.” A chuckle came from Ryoma’s right, “If only they’d break our legs already! Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long.” It was a man with a slightly lighter skin tone than Ryoma’s, with neat brown hair, a black sweater with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers. He seemed pretty optimistic despite the situation that the three were in.

It wasn’t like Ryoma didn’t try to escape this fate. But his captors and tormentors alike seemed to know EVERYTHING about him. They had caught Ryoma off-guard, wearing specialised armour that seemed to absorb everything lightning strike Ryoma threw at them. In the end, Ryoma ended up draining all his power without hurting anybody. Even the structure Ryoma was nailed to, called a “cross”, was tailor-made to prevent his escape. Ryoma could’ve called down lightning to burn down the crosses of the man and woman who were nailed to their wooden crosses, but there was no question that the guards would overpower them. Ryoma was resigned to his fate, but he remained defiant until the end, scraping up every bit of charge that he slowly regenerated to call down lighthing on the unarmoured citizens who were mocking him, but even then, due to the lightning rods the guards carried, Ryoma was only able to deliver a painful shock that could not do any lasting damage. As for Ryoma’s sheer strength, his captors were ready for that also. Several heavily armed men had pinned Ryoma down to the cross they were nailing and tying him to. As he struggled, he heard someone ask about paralysing him, only for another to reply saying that it would make him die too quickly from suffocation, because he needed his legs to push himself up to breathe.

“So... tired...” the woman groaned, gasping for air. “It means you’re going to die,” the man replied, “Crucifixion works that way. Eventually you get too tired to breathe. Then you suffocate.” “Finally...” the woman replied, forcing a relieved smile, “That means... I won’t... suffer...” she slumped, and stopped moving completely, the shock causing Ryoma to panic and struggle, tearing the flesh of his paws as his fluffed-up tail twitched in response. “Hey, calm down buddy,” the man exclaimed, “Unless you wanna die quicker.” “I don’t wanna die,” Ryoma whimpered back, hyperventilating “I don’t wanna...” “Well, I very much doubt anyone will come to save us,” the man replied, “Unless God wants to perform some sort of miracle, but I don’t know if He will... I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” Ryoma’s ears, which were initally flattened to the sides, sunk down so much that they were almost completely hidden by his mane. Not only was he fearful, but this felt humiliating, being nailed to a cross with no way to save himself, having to wait for someone to come and save him. That was, if they would come at all. Hope faded even more when the man, only minutes later, succumbed to fatigue. The guards, noticing the deaths of the man and woman, took their bodies away. Now Ryoma was alone, completely alone, surrounded by assholes who continued to mock him. It was only his superhuman endurance that had kept him alive up until this point. And for the first time in his entire life, Ryoma saw it as a curse. But after what felt like an entire day, Ryoma could finally feel the crushing weight of fatigue settle on him. The voices got louder and his vision began to fade. Within minutes, only the voices remained.

Ryoma found himself lying on his back on a stony surface. His body felt like it was wrapped in bandages. The smell of perfume was quite overpowering. He struggled, trying to free himself, before inadvertantly emitting an electric charge that set the bandages on fire. Ryoma panicked at the hot, burning flames that consumed the bandages, thrashing about, until he rolled off the bench and crashed onto the ground. The Rajinto, which must’ve been placed in the pitch black room with him, clattered onto his head. Ryoma could barely move. His paws throbbed, his legs ached, but it wasn’t that. It was the voices. They were too loud. Ryoma was paralysed by his mind being unable to think about anything but the voices. Then another voice joined the mix. A muffling came from above him. Ryoma growled and shook his head to snap out of it, before picking up the Rajinto and activating it to shed some light. Only a tiny bit of power was needed to light up the room, thanks to Ryoma’s feline eyes.

Ryoma was in a strange cave with the sides lined with two rows of stone benches. Two bodies lay on the benches, wrapped in bandages. Ryoma quickly cut the bodies free with his Rajinto, revealing the man and woman from before. “Ugh,” the man groaned, “Is it good morning, good afternoon or good night? I can’t see a thing!” In response, Ryoma put more power into the Rajinto’s glow. “Hey, it’s you,” the man exclaimed, “Where are we? Is this the afterlife.” “I don’t think so,” Ryoma quitely replied, “I think we somehow managed to survive.” “So that means our suffering is gonna continue,” the woman muttered. Ryoma walked up to the woman, brandishing his katana, “Or... I can end yours right here for sure. A nice thrust of this blade through your head will ensure you don’t feel anything.” The woman sat wide-eyed for a few moments, before shaking her head in fear. “Why would you do that,” the man exclaimed, “What the hell is WRONG with you!?” “I was offering a Mercy Kill,” Ryoma replied, “And since she said no, I won’t go through with it.” “Whatever, how are we going to get out of here anyway?” “Well, I can see what looks to be an exit,” Ryoma replied, pointing to a flat wall, “But it’s locked. I suppose I’ll just have to see if I can break it.” And break it he did. A few well placed punches cracked and crumbled the wall, revealing what looked to be a wide area of bushland. “So I guess it really is good morning,” the man commented. “I can’t care less what time of the day it is,” Ryoma growled back, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Who are you really,” the man asked, “you saved us both!” “Ryoma. And you?” “I’m Truman Burbank! I’m like, the star of my show but I was being forced to live my life a certain way... and then this happened!” “What about you,” Ryoma asked, turning towards the woman.” “I... can’t remember,” the woman replied, “But people were calling me... Victoria Skillane. That name seems familiar,” she clutched her head in pain, “but I don’t know why...!” “You okay, Victoria,” Truman asked, rather concerned. “My head,” Victoria groaned, “I keep... seeing things! It hurts!” “Don’t worry, you two,” Ryoma replied, “I’m gonna get you to someone who can help you. You’ll be fine.”

#ultimate crossover #fire emblem #the truman show #black mirror #white bear #Ryoma #Ryoma Fire Emblem #fire emblem fates #Truman Burbank #Victoria Skillane #metaphor #Entertainment at all Costs #torture #psychological torture #mind rape #mental illness

6 notes · View notes

tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 24

chapter list / previous / next

Tallpaw was instructed to remain in camp for several days, and regularly check into the medicine den. Miraculously, none of his bones were broken, but the nasty gashes across his back were still at risk of infection and nearly every part of him was horribly bruised. It was torment having to remain still. Dawnstripe came to see him regularly to bring him food, and he wished her presence brought him the comfort it used to. For the most part he couldn’t help just feeling bad that she was having to deal with him at all. Her first apprentice that she’d been so excited for had become such a mess.

Briarpaw was in and out of the den. Hawkheart, providing his apprentice more sympathy than he offered anyone else, did not give him duties. Tallpaw wasn’t sure where Briarpaw had been going the rest of the day. He didn’t speak much when he came in save for the same pleasantries. “How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? I’ll get you some wet moss to drink from.” The words were caring but his voice was stiff, like the life had been drained out of it. Sometimes he just sat in the dark corner of the den and stared at his paws. Tallpaw wondered if he still saw his mother's blood on them, or if any amount of grooming would make them feel clean. He was too ashamed and afraid to reach out. Briarpaw might see him as responsible for his mother’s death like Shrewpaw did; someone Tallpaw gratefully had not seen at all.

Tallpaw's relationship with him had always been a bit precarious, the easy affection he and Briarpaw had--or at least used to have--was never Shrewpaw’s strength. They had been as much friends as rivals could be, but Tallpaw sensed that night, in the hate in his eyes, that something had broken in him as well, and their unstable foundation crumbled.

Woollycloud was around him the most, just as subject to bed rest as Tallpaw. He offered him friendly chatter which Tallpaw rarely reciprocated, but Woollycloud graciously pretended not to notice. He had a nasty cut on his head where a rock had struck him, but unlike Tallpaw, his legs and movement were fine and he was able to be more active. In between the comforting talk Tallpaw had to endure, there was nothing to do but sleep. And he really did not want to sleep. When he closed his eyes, the rumbling of the earth and world collapsing on top of him returned, along with his father's voice calling out from far off. But it was only when he was asleep that he didn’t have to suffer the pity and concern from his clanmates. Or worse, their uncomfortable silence. As if a frightening air surrounded him, a discomfort that remained since the formerly well mannered and quiet apprentice’s violent outburst against the rogue. The rogue the rest of the clan apparently cared for more than Tallpaw and his father. The fear in his dreams was, marginally, still preferable to facing others.

After nearly a full day of not speaking, Tallpaw was staring absentmindedly up at the stars. Each star a warrior of the past, so he’d been told. Brackenwing would be among them. But a horrible thought nagged at his mind the longer he stared at those stars. So at last he dared to speak to Woollycloud.

“What about Sandstone, Woollycloud?” He could barely manage more than a whisper. “If we couldn’t lay his body out, how will he be free? How can the wind carry his spirit if it can’t find him? He’s trapped. He’s trapped down there alone, isn’t he?”

Woollycloud curled his tail behind Tallpaw.

“Don’t worry, Sandstone will not be lost. There is something we can do for him, but the tunnelers want to wait.”

“What for?”

“For you, of course. You should be there. StarClan knows to welcome him, and we will help his spirit how we can. I’ll show you as soon as we’re strong enough to.”

Tallpaw nodded quietly and lay his head back down.

Woollycloud continued, “You and your mother will have closure. Did Palebird not tell you about the tunnelers tradition?”

“I... have not seen my mother.” Tallpaw said. He didn’t want to think about her. Of all the cats whose presence filled him with a deep set guilt, Palebird was among the worst.

“You haven’t? I...I see.” Woollycloud sat up and hummed in concern. Tallpaw wished he wouldn’t do that. “I haven’t seen her myself...I should look for her.”

“You don’t have to.” Tallpaw said quickly. “Really.” The last thing he wanted was for any cat to pressure his mother into seeing him. Before Woollycloud could argue, he continued, “do you think I’m strong enough yet? I know the third sunrise hasn’t passed, but the herbs have been working and I...I really want to do something.”

Woollycloud sniffed at his shoulder, “Perhaps we could ask Hawkheart. I understand why you don’t want to wait. In the meantime, I’ll see if Mistmouse can find Palebird. She must be grieving heavily, and I know she’ll want to come.”

Tallpaw had a hard time imagining his mother wanted to do anything. But with Hawkheart’s begrudging blessing, and a small lie about not feeling any pain anymore, Woollycloud led him to the camp entrance. Mistmouse had told the other tunnelers it was time, and they were waiting for them. To Tallpaw’s surprise, even the retired tunnelers Fennelpelt and Whitetooth were waiting.

Woollycloud gazed at Whitetooth with a slight trace of worry. “You’ll be alright making the journey? I hope the pain in your legs has eased some.”

Whitetooth sniffed proudly. “I won’t let anything stop me from doing this for Sandstone. He always spoke up for us and didn’t let anything stop him. I’ll be fine.”

Fennelpelt nodded “It’s only right for us to give the proper send off in the place his body rests, or as close as we can get. I know StarClan can find him wherever he is, but...this has sadly become a new tradition, the more we lose to the tunnels. I always hope the present one may be the last.”

Woollycloud nodded sadly, “StarClan willing it be true this time.”

Hazelnose turned to Mistmouse “So...did you find Palebird?”

Mistmouse shuffled her paws “No, but Lilywhisker told me she has an idea where she might be.”

“I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning,” Crowfur said with a displeased flick of his ears. “She can’t mean to miss her own mates’ remembrance.”

“She doesn’t want to, perhaps they will meet us there," Mistmouse said quickly.

Tallpaw couldn’t help sharing Crowfur’s frustration. Palebird was so rarely where he wanted her to be. It was one thing to avoid him, but she shouldn’t avoid Sandstone at a time like this. Unless...it was because he was there? It was hard for him to ignore how out of place he felt here. Once he had assumed these cats would be his closest companions, but that was before his apprenticeship. He’d never been able to figure out if they were as disappointed in his choices as Sandstone was. They ought to be, he thought bitterly Because if I had made the right choice...maybe I would have known how to save him. Maybe I could have gotten to him faster.

The patrol made the trek quietly, as the last light of the sun started to vanish and the sky turned from orange to cool dark blue. Tallpaw had some difficulty keeping pace, even Whitetooth walked faster than him, but he forced himself not to wince. He wished his muscles didn’t still ache from the bruising all over his back. That restless feeling of being somewhere he didn’t feel he had a right to belong still gnawed at him. Unfortunately Woollycloud, in all his endless sympathy, padded behind with him. I wish you wouldn’t waste your energy worrying about me, Tallpaw wanted to say.

Instead he asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Right now, we are going to collect every strong smelling moor plant we can find. I’ll explain when we arrive.” Woollycloud replied.

Tallpaw couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous about returning to the place where he’d nearly been buried twice, and where his father had disappeared forever. But he wouldn’t let that apprehension stop him now. Some of the patrol split off on the way, returning with herbs and plants plucked from the ground, smelling of new-leaf growth. Woollycloud gestured for Tallpaw to take his heather flowers as he picked additional sprigs of sage. Tallpaw hadn’t a clue what they were doing, but he followed obediently.

When he finally caught his mother's scent, he almost thought he was imagining it. But as they approached the hill that led down to the soft earth where the old rabbit burrow tunnels used to be, he saw her approaching the group. Lilywhisker was with her, and carried some brightly colored flowers in her jaws that she passed off to the small white molly, but as she watched Palebird come to join them, the former-tunneler did not follow. Palebird padded soundlessly into the muddy clearing, placing a rather large bundle of marigold on the ground. “I wanted to find the best flowers I could,” she said quickly, as if expecting someone to ask for an explanation. Her voice sounded weak and cracked. “I apologize it took so long.”

“We are here now,” Woollycloud replied gently, “that is all that matters.”

No cat asked why Lilywhisker had not joined them. Perhaps it was because she’d left tunneling behind so long ago. It made Tallpaw wonder even more if he deserved to be here himself. Because he was family was surely the reason, but Sandstone saw his tunnelers as better family than he ever was. None of them know how Sandstone really felt about me… he realized miserably.

Tallpaw felt incredibly on edge to finally be in his mother’s presence. He could feel her gaze drift toward him. She at last padded over to him, and gave the scar on his ear a soft lick. He looked up at her timidly. He hadn’t noticed before how awful she looked. Her eyes were dull and tired. She looked smaller and thinner. Palebird had been a frail, skinny cat for as long as Tallpaw could remember, but now he could more clearly see the bones in her back. Her fur was messy with bits of dust clinging to her legs, showing she hadn’t been grooming much.

She offered him a weak smile “I’m glad you’re doing better, Tallpaw.”

Her voice carried that familiar hollowness he remembered from when he was a kit. When she told him things would be ok in that empty way. Even back then her words felt practiced and obligatory, with little feeling behind them. As empty as her eyes. She seemed to be looking through him. He quietly nodded in response.

Woollycloud padded closer and leaned forward to touch her nose in greeting, which she stiffly reciprocated.

“We were worried when we couldn’t find you earlier,” he said “Where have you been?” He looked at her with deep concern in his soft orange eyes, surely noticing her disheveled appearance as well, but not wanting to comment on it directly.

“I’ve...been sleeping in my own den. Not far from camp. I just wanted some air. I’m sorry, I really didn’t realize I had been gone so long. Time just slipped away from me.”

Woollycloud didn’t look fully content with that answer, but he didn’t want to push it. The tunnelers had placed down what they carried and gathered around the collapsed entrance of the tunnel. It was hard to discern where the hole had been, as the mud around it filled in the cracks. Slowly and meticulously, they began to dig.

Tallpaw looked to Woollycloud “What are they doing? I thought...I thought we already tried to dig through to the tunnels.

“We did. Believe me, Plumclaw especially was out for ages digging holes above and below. We will not dig into the tunnel anymore. Only a shallow ring around the entrance. Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”

He led him to the muddy ground, and together scooped out small pawfuls of earth. Tallpaw suppressed a shudder from the feel of the cold dirt seeping into his paws, and he tried not to remember how it felt to sink into the ground while it buried it from above and below. He focused on Woollycloud’s voice.

"In the rare cases where we have no body to lay in our sacred place, we will go as close as we can to where we know the body is and lay a separate grave, as we do in the Sleeping Glade's burial grounds. We’ll collect every strong smelling moor plant we can find. The familiar scent of the open air will guide the lost spirit out.”

“How will he sense anything trapped underground?” Tallpaw asked quietly.

“He will. Trust me.” Woollycloud said firmly, “The Wind Runner never abandons her children, wherever they are, she will find them again. Her son knows the earth and hidden places of the moor. It may be a harder journey, but Sandstone will hear him and find his way to our ancestors.”

“But...how long will it take? How long will he be trapped?”

“Worry not, young one,” Whitetooth croaked. He was doing his best to dig, making slow progress, but there was a sureness and prescivion to his movements that spoke of his experienced seasons in the tunnels, even despite the stiffness in his joints. “Your father wore the tunnels like a second pelt. He will not be afraid.”

Tallpaw struggled to imagine anything alive in the ground. Well, not alive exactly. But he’d only ever felt hostile eyes on him down there, the kind belonging to monsters that frightened him as a kit. Could there be anything else? He felt his fur tingle as he struggled to pull one last pawful out of the earth. He imagined Sandstone watching him with that cold disapproving glare at how much clumsy effort it took to do this small task. It felt like the ground wanted to suck him down, just waiting for him to put his weight on an unstable patch. He backed up from the hole, but luckily it seemed the other tunnelers had decided they dug far enough. All around the burrows entrance, they weaved the flowers and herbs in a ring bordering the shallow dip. When they had finished, all the cats sat around their work, and were silent. Tallpaw was silent with them, but he didn’t expect to feel any peace wash over him. All he felt was empty and sad. In that stillness, Tallpaw could only dwell on what he really lost.

His father had not loved him for some time, not really. Perhaps Tallpaw would not have to fearfully creep around camp anymore, or carefully check over each rise on the moor to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally run into him on a bad day. But Sandstone being gone also meant that the cat that had loved him once, the cat Tallpaw dutifully waited for everyday in the nursery, the cat who made him his entire world for those often lonely cold moons...that cat was gone too. Some part of Tallpaw, even at his most frustrated and scared, still held onto hope that maybe someday they could figure things out between them. Sandstone could at last let his guard down when the clan wasn’t facing so many outside threats, and he wasn’t putting himself under so much pressure. There was still a small chance that Tallpaw could have that old father back, and this wouldn’t last forever. Sandstone would tell him he didn’t really mean what he said before, and he was only harsh because of all the troubles weighing on him. But no. Those words could never come. There was only one last cold glare of disdain, and now that was all there ever would be.

After what felt like a lifetime, Whitetooth stood, bony shoulders weighed down by grief. “May StarClan welcome you as you find your way to them,” he rasped.

One by one the other tunnelers bowed their heads and left. A solemn Plumclaw followed Mistmouse away, and Hazelnose and Crowfur offered to walk back with the elders. Woollycloud, Tallpaw, and Palebird sat there alone. Woollycloud was surely waiting for them, but Tallpaw felt like his paws had rooted to the soil as he stared into the shallow hole. How could he feel like those he lost were still with them, when the air around him felt so dead and still? What good was their presence if he couldn’t really speak to them, couldn’t see them, couldn’t show them that he could be better than he was when they left? It was one thing to imagine they were far away in the stars, but even here, even in the earth, he couldn’t feel anything. There was no solace here.

“Woollycloud?” he whispered “do you really believe that there are spirits on the moor that watch over us?”

Woollycloud was quiet for a moment.

“I do. I feel them with me often. Our moors are so close to the sky that on the right nights, StarClan can touch the ground and walk alongside us, even in the darkest places. WindClan’s guardian spirits are not only with us when we hunt,” Woollycloud looked a bit wistful. “I believe they led me to save you that night.”

Tallpaw stared blankly into the earth. “But why would the spirits make the tunnel collapse in the first place?”

Woollycloud grimaced “I don’t believe they did. I think...These tunnels were our own doing. And perhaps it was only a matter of time. Not every cat can be saved. But it was not your fate to die that day. And I’m glad of it.” Woollycloud touched his nose to Tallpaw’s head “You’re father will always be with you Tallpaw.”

Those words were clearly meant to comfort him, but they didn’t. Not at all. Woollycloud didn’t know how disappointed Sandstone was before he died. Even if he was here in some way, all he would see was his son's continued failure, continued hesitance and fear. It should have been you buried here, the shallow burrow seemed to growl, perhaps Woollycloud could have saved Sandstone instead. He’d do more good for the clan than you.

Sandstone died angry. He died resentful. What if he couldn’t find peace? A frightful chill was working its way up Tallpaw’s spine. He was too afraid to ask.

Woollycloud pressed softly to Palebird for a moment, and said he’d be waiting for them at camp. He wanted to give Sandstone’s family time to grieve, and Tallpaw didn’t want to tell him how uncomfortable it was to be with his mother.

He couldn’t remember the last time they were alone together. The few times he’d spoken to her...Brackenwing was usually there. He never really realized until now how she rarely left his mother's side. When Palebird wasn’t with Sandstone or Woollycloud, as she was less and less often, it was Brackenwing fetching her prey, taking her on walks through the moor, Brackenwing who knew her pain from the kitten she’d lost moons ago and who remembered her grief when the rest of the clan hardly knew the kit existed. It was Brackenwing who would encourage them both.

But Brackenwing wasn’t here anymore. And neither was Sandstone. Instead, it was just Palebird and Tallpaw. They were both there together, and they were completely alone.

The silence between them hung thick in the air.

“Are you going to be alright, Palebird?” Tallpaw asked. He had to know.

Palebird took in a small breath. “I am…” her sentence trailed off. “...I am alive.”

She sounded so far away. It wasn’t really an answer so much as it was a statement. Yes, they were both still alive. For whatever that was worth.

Tallpaw shifted. “...Where were you really? Before, I mean?”

“Not far. Mostly I was walking where she used to take me...I didn’t realize I had just been wandering the same short trail for so long. I should have been back sooner.”

She didn’t have to say it for him to know she was thinking of Brackenwing.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, and he meant it. He didn’t want her to feel worse.

“I should have been there…” she whispered, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it.

“Where?”

“The patrol. She really wanted me to go. But I was…” she sunk to the ground and lay her head on her paws. “I shouldn’t have left her side.”

Tallpaw felt his heart twist in a knot. I wouldn’t have left her like you did, he imagined her saying. It was surely what she wanted to say. Then at least, Brackenwing would be here to comfort her for Sandstone. Yet another death he was present for, and couldn’t stop. He wanted to ask her if she blamed him. If she resented him. If she had ever stopped thinking of that kit she lost so long ago, and if she wondered if Finchkit would have been strong enough to save the ones she loved, in a way that Tallpaw wasn’t. If she never wanted him to speak to her again, he would honor that. He wished he was brave enough to just ask, so he didn’t have to wonder anymore. But he wasn’t.

“Palebird?” he whispered.

“Yes, Tallpaw?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For... everything.”

Palebird’s expression was unreadable as she stared into the earth. “I’m sorry too.”

Tallpaw wasn’t sure if either really knew what specific thing they were referring to. Sorry for Brackenwing. Sorry for Sandstone. Sorry they were in so much grief. Or worse, like Sandstone, sorry that he turned out the way he had. He didn’t expect her to elaborate, and she did not.

All Tallpaw’s life he had simply had to guess what went through his mother's head. He’d long since given up on her telling him. She had cared for him just as much as was physically necessary, and all the while he felt like a stranger to her, like there was a wall of brambles between them that perhaps had always been there. But right then, he felt like he understood her a little. The emptiness in her voice. The hollowness in her eyes. She was quiet and drowning in her grief, in a hole no one could see. But he saw it now. How much easier it must be to simply feel yourself be swallowed up by that hole. He used to wonder when it was exactly that she had started sinking, what had first set the seed for the thorny wall separating them. She wasn’t always like this, his father's voice echoed. But she had been at least as long as Tallpaw had known her. Perhaps it really was as simple as that. Still, he was not brave enough to ask.

But now he felt certain that he had no parents anymore, all in one terrible fell swoop. Palebird did not speak after that. Her mouth hung open and empty. She didn't even have any practiced phrases of comfort left to offer.

After that night, Tallpaw would not hear her voice again for a very long time.

chapter list / previous / next

#cw depression #cw self loathing #FRU24 #chapter 24

18 notes · View notes

banashee · 3 years

Link

Please mind the tags and warnings

Day 7: Miracle

When you work for SHIELD, it often means that private plans get shot to hell. Every Agent knows this - it’s what they signed up for. But that doesn’t mean that Clint isn’t pissed as hell when they call Phil in on the second day of their vacation, because something came up and they absolutely need him. Not only that, they don’t have any use for him at the time, tell him to just stay put.

This. This right here is why he hates taking any time off. What use are days off, when he can’t spend them with his partner? If it wasn’t so incredibly close to Christmas, Clint might be a little more relaxed about it, but as it looks now, he might spend the holidays sitting alone in an empty apartment, which just sounds depressing as fuck.

This is why Clint usually volunteers to work over the holidays, to avoid this very situation. But ever since his relationship with Phil, he got to experience some truly beautiful Christmases and he really doesn’t want that to stop.

If both of them were to work, fine - at least, chances are they’d be stuck in whatever last minute mission together. But now?

Phil is several hours of flight away, juggling whatever bullshit someone else produced to try and rescue the situation, because this is how half of his jobs are going these days, while Clint is home alone with nothing to do and too many thoughts running wild.

He eyes the cupboard that holds the booze, mulls over it but doesn’t get up to get a drink. He’s not that low yet, and he wants to avoid that if he can - Clint does not want to start a habit that will be hard to break in the future.

Drinking with other people, casually and with nice company? Sure, every once in a while.

Drinking alone in a dark apartment to make his brain shut up? A really, really bad idea. Memories of years spent in fear of his father and later Buck Chisholm, Jacques Duquesne and even his own brother, Barney, stop him from doing that, even when the urge comes. Very occasionally, but still. He resists, and doesn’t even drink too often as it is.

Thinking back to the violence and loss of control back then makes him not touch any alcohol at all for weeks and sometimes months at a time.

With a heavy sigh, Clint flops over a few times, until he’s upside down and with his legs hanging over the back of the sofa. He sighs again, causing Lucky to come jogging from the next room over and sit down on top of him - but only after turning around a few times, paws are digging into uncomfortable places while he does so.

“Oof, ouch.”

A cold, wet nose nuzzles into him, and Clint can’t help but smile at that. Lucky is a wonderful dog, and he loves him to pieces, even when he seems to be determined to cut off his blood circulation in important body parts sometimes.

With his hands buried in soft golden fur and with Lucky licking all over his neck and the underside of his chin in true canine affection, Clint manages to relax a bit. Breathing gets easier, and instead of letting his brain get the better of him, he focuses on the dog. The deep, even breaths, the feeling of fur on his skin and the slight wagging of the tail that keeps hitting his legs.

“Good boy, Lucky. Good boy.”

As if in response, Lucky nuzzles him again and Clint scratches the good spot behind his ear. They stay like this for a while, until Clint gets a bit lightheaded from being upside down for too long - he moves in another position, with Lucky still sprawled on his chest. He simply holds onto the dog, turns and then they settle again. On the way to lay down properly, Clint fishes his phone from a mess on the coffee table.

“Hey there. I miss you” he types into his ongoing chat with Phil, hitting send before he does something stupid like telling his partner how he’s been feeling in more detail. Who knows when Phil will be able to respond to a personal text from his personal phone next - there is no need to worry him.

The last time he’d heard from Phil was about three days ago. He’s been okay then, telling Clint that things are kinda messy and that he hopes to be able to text or better yet, come back soon.

At almost 2 in the morning, Clint’s phone vibrates with a new message. He instantly wakes up from a light sleep due to the vibrations. He went to bed with the phone near him, just in case. It’s a long standing habit for both him and Phil when the other is away on a mission, just so they’ll know when the other texts or calls.

“Miss you, too. I don’t wanna jinx anything and say a date, but I might be able to be home in a few days. Hope I didn’t wake you up - I love you”

Clint squints against the bright light of his phone, but the message makes him smile. Phil is okay, at least okay enough to text and that is very reassuring to know.

“Be safe and come back soon. I love you, too!” he types back and throws his phone back onto Phil’s empty pillow. The date on the display says December 20th.

Just how long are “a few days” going to be, Clint asks himself while falling back into a restless sleep.

The next few days, Clint spends very similarly to the rest of the time. He doesn’t talk much to anyone but his dog, even on their long walks out. Back home, he keeps busy with household tasks and paperwork, desperate to do something to kill his time.

December 23rd, his calendar on the desk proclaims, while Clint finishes the last page of forms. He’s done - nothing to do, nothing to clean anymore - no Phil.

He’d texted this morning, stating he didn’t know yet when they’d be finished, saying he misses and loves Cint. It’s reassuring to read from him, but nothing beats having his partner right here.

“Fuck this.” Clint tells the date on the paper, and it remains silent, staring back at him, almost mocking.

Clint reaches out and puts it face down onto the table - it doesn’t help. He glares at tit for a moment, then leaves the room. He takes the leash off of the hook to go on a walk with his dog.

“Lucky! Come here, boy! we’re going to the park” he calls, and as soon as he finishes the word “park”, Lucky comes scrambling down the hallway with a wildly wagging tail and pure excitement in his eyes. Then he headbutts into Clint’s stomach to stop himself.

“Oh hey, are you okay?” Clint asks, gently patting Lucky’s head and unable to stop the laughter rising up his throat. The dog just beams up at him, enjoying the pets while waiting for him to finally put the leash on so they can go out.

Laughing feels good, too - Clint was planning on going for a walk to calm down in the first place, but it seems like Lucky just being the goofy and wonderful dog that he is did half the job before they even left the apartment.

It’s beginning to snow. Not enough to remain on the floor, but enough for Lucky to get excited and chase after the snowflakes in the air. He’s trying to catch them, and Clint happily lets him.

“Maybe we’ll have a white christmas this year, huh?” he asks the dog, then pulls out his phone to film a quick video of Lucky jumping into the air to try and get the snow. Small flakes are stuck in his fur, only slowly melting away. Clint can’t help but smile, and he holds out a treat behind his phone, then he gets Lucky’s attention - the video ends with a dog snout darkening the screen. He immediately sends the video to Phil.

Lucky has settled down next to him, and when Clint is finished with his message, he is met with deep brown dog eyes that look up at him. He smiles, smoothing down the fur on his dog’s forehead, then the sides of his head. Lucky leans into the touch, clearly happy with all of this love and attention. Most of his weight leans against Clint by now, eyes sliding closed.

They remain like this for a while, by the side of the park’s walkway. Some people “oohh” and “aww” at the sight of Lucky, especially families with children, but Clint doesn’t pay them any mind, apart from shooting a smile to a little girl who holds her mothers hand and waves at him with the other.

Lucky has that effect on people.

On their way home, Clint can feel the phone vibrating in his pocket. He fishes it out with one hand, heart stopping for a beat. He really hopes that this is a message from Phil - and really.

“Thanks for the video of our son. btw I’ll make it home in time for christmas!

Clint expects to find the apartment as dark and silent as he does.

What he doesn’t expect when he leaves the bathroom after a long, hot shower, is the light in the hallway being on and a familiar pair of shoes next to the door.

A spark of happiness lights up his entire mood as Clint makes his way towards the living room/kitchen area. And really, when he rounds the corner, he is greeted by the sight of Phil, whose suit looks rumpled and his five o clock shadow is very much turned into a beard by now, but he looks up at the sound of footsteps behind him and smiles.

“Phil!” Clint all but tackles his partner to the couch behind him. He can feel Phil’s startled laughter against his neck, but he has him wrapped up in both arms and holds on tightly. Both of them end up on top of it in a tangled mess, rumpled or, in Clint’s case, half dressed and damp from the shower, but none of it matters right now. They’re both home, in one piece but most of all, safe and reunited.

“No more last minute missions. Fuck that.” Clint says into his partner’s hair, and Phil just nods - he must be exhausted, because he doesn’t even pull away to sign an answer. This tells Clint everything he needs to know though.

He wraps arms and legs around Phil, then simply turns both of them over until Phil is comfortably on top of him, head tucked under his chin while Clint gently scratches the nape of his neck while he keeps his other arm firmly around Phil.

They stay like that until both of them drift off into a light sleep. It’s only when Lucky decides he wants to join in in the cuddles that they wake up, because the dog jumps gracelessly onto Phil’s back and licks his ear.

“Ow. Way to go, Lucky.”

Lucky just nuzzles closer, and Phil reaches up with one hand to pet him.

“Yes, I love you, too.”

Under him, Clint’s chest rumbles with laughter.

“You two are having your usual discussion?” he asks. His hearing aids are still in the bedroom, but he just knows how things usually go.

Phil just nods, and instead of an answer, chuckling. They stay on the couch for a bit, cuddling and trading lazy kisses, then a rumbling stomach decides that it’s time for dinner.

The morning of December 24th starts out late. They didn’t get into bed until late at night, and that’s perfectly fine. They don’t have to be anywhere, and even though it’s much later than planned, they can finally enjoy their vacation together.

Small dust particles are already dancing in the streams of sunlight that make it through the window and into their room, but neither Phil or Clint gives it any attention. They’re way too busy removing restrictive clothing so they can greet each other properly after the time they spent apart.

As messy as the holiday season has started, they still managed to start Christmas together - if it wasn’t so incredibly frustrating, they would have called it a miracle. But as it is, they’re here, they’re happy, and the days can come.

*+~

Warnings:

- Referenced Alcoholism - PTSD/ Bad memories - Past child abuse

*+~

This is a writing challenge set up by AJ Woolfenden on Instagram, starting on December 14th. One word per day for a week. Works shared have to use #writingweek

https://www.instagram.com/p/CILEG_agRzF/?igshid=1p72flhf7lhzz

Day 1: Snow Day 2: Festive Lights Day 3: Santa’s hat Day 4: Gifts Day 5: Silent Night Day 6: Red Noses Day 7: Miracles

All cover photos 1-6 used from Pixabay , 7th from unsplash. Free to use photos

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #xmas writing week 2020 #angst #hurt/comfort #tw alcohol

2 notes · View notes

sweetcatmintea · 4 years

Text

Lizard predicament

Hello hello! Flash fiction Friday again :D I had a lot of fun with this one haha~ Both with the narration style and getting into Echo’s head before all the trauma quiets her down. I hope you have fun seeing the world through her eyes for a morning! Feedback is super appreciated 💜

Flash fiction Friday is organised by the lovely @flashfictionfridayofficial

Prompt: Furry Friend Words: 1033 Character(s): Echo

---

It’s a beautiful morning. The sky is clear, the grass is dewy, birds are singing, and you are terrorising the local lizard population. Of course, in your young mind ‘terrorising’ isn’t the word you would use. You’re not even entirely sure you know what it means. If you were asked, you would claim you and the lizards are engaged in a mutually enjoyable game of hide and seek, in not so many words, of course.

You crouch low to the ground, ears perked while you ready yourself to pounce. Creeping closer and closer, you hold your breath as you near an unsuspecting playmate. You wiggle your butt. You’re not sure that it helps, but all the real cats do it, so child see, child do. It’s so close, you can make out the pale stripes running down its smooth brown body and light musky odour as it basks in the early sun. Mud clings to your overalls bit you don’t care. You leap! It darts for the clover. You make a messy grab, the swipe sending it rolling over your open palm. It scurries again but you’re not about to give up! You make a last-ditch effort, cupping your hands where you think it will run. Everything is still. Dirt sticks to your cheeks and leaves poke out of your messy black hair. There’s a tapping and a scrambling against your cupped fingers. You got him! You jump to your feet, bouncing and trilling at your victory.

Your delight is cut short as soon as you peak into his confinement. Oh no! You broke him. In your hands, a lizard hunkers against your skin in wait for an opportunity to flee while beside him, a tail wiggles. An uncomfortable knot turns your tummy. Oh no oh no! You didn’t mean for this to happen! You only wanted to play, honest! You wonder if maybe you can stick it back on, but the lizard won’t hold still long enough to try. You can’t even let him go now since he’s all messed up.

Tears begin to sting your eyes as you take the lizard to find someone who can help. Unfortunately, both of your brothers are in lessons And you have been explicitly told not to bring any more animals into the building. You think it’s rather rude of your brothers to not be currently available. What could possibly be more important than a Lizard Emergency? You don’t think you should ask the crows either. You’re quite cross with them at the moment. The last time you followed their advice, you ended up in a lot of trouble! (And, if you’re honest, which you usually are, you aren’t really sure if you are allowed outside at the moment, so you don’t want to make more of a reason for the Keepers to get mad at you.) You really, really, want to cry right now. Poor, poor, Mr Lizard. You didn’t mean to break his tail off.

You wander the front gardens aimlessly, completely befuddled at what you should do. The lizard is growing restless and has taken to trying to pry his way between your fingers. The tail is not wiggling any more. A friendly greeting is a welcome reprieve from your fretting. Louie, a neighbourhood cat, is reclined on the ornate wooden seat. He must have been watching for some time since you didn’t hear him hop up there. He is one of the nicer animals you’ve met and you consider him a friend. He told you once that he brings the rain on his paws and you have no reason to doubt him so you consider briefly whether there will be showers later.

{Hello Echo!} He purrs to you. {What are you doing romping around? There are more than enough sunbeams for a cat nap y’know.}

{Louie! Something bad happened! I was playing with the lizards, and I broke one and I don’t know how to fix it!} Your tears break free, dribbling down your reddening cheeks.

He cocks his head to the side, tail curling. {They’re supposed to break. It makes it easier to eat them.} His pink tongue rasps over his muzzle. {It’s a crunchy snack.}

{I don’t wanna eat him!} You whine, {I was gonna let him go but his tail fell off and now he’s all broken. How do I put him back together?}

Louie sits up, beckoning you closer. {Let me see.}

You open your hands a crack, ensuring the lizard’s continued confinement while the grey cat peers in. He squints his eyes in amusement.

{That lizard isn’t broken. It’s fine.}

You don’t believe him. Not because you think he’s a liar, but more so that you very much have two pieces of a reptile where prior, you had one. {But his tail!}

Louie dismisses your concerns with a flick of his whiskers. {Lizard tails fall of all the time. It’s a bonus prize. If you don’t eat them, it grows back.}

Your eyes widen. {Really?! No way!}

Louie nods, then yawns and settles back down to sleep. {Well, if you’re not going to eat it, you might as well go put it back.}

{I will! Thank you, Louie!!} You dart back the way you came, overcome with relief that Mr Lizard will be okay.

You release the lizard back into the clover. He’s gone in an instant. Maybe he didn’t appreciate your worrying over him for so long. That’s okay! You don’t mind. Now it’s just you, the accumulated mud and leaves stuck to you, and a sizable lizard tail in your grasp. It seems like a waste to just leave it on the ground. It was a prize after all, a treasure to collect like feathers and pretty pebbles. You make up your mind quickly. Surely someone else would become very happy if you gave them your treasure. You’ll put it on Storm’s pillow so he has a nice surprise when he finishes his lesson. You should probably find something else cool to give Chris so he doesn’t feel left out. Yes, you think, that sounds like a wonderful idea.

It is a beautiful day and you are a small feral child doing your best.

—

Tag List

@snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll, and @goblin-writer

#writing #writblr #short story #Flash Fiction Friday #fff39 #story #original characters #original fiction #Echos Tail #Character mentions #Echo #Storm #Christopher

26 notes · View notes

xxpadfootxx · 4 years

Text

🐾Since When Do Heroes Have Paws? Part 4/6 (Smells Like Nitroglycerin - KiriBaku)🐾

Summary: Bakugo and Kirishima play a game of fetch.

~~~

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy for the day, Shitty Hair?” Bakugo asked aggressively, not even looking down at the cattle dog who sat eagerly at his feet, a tennis ball lodged in his mouth. Kirishima had not really expected to run into this kind of problem, but when he had gone with Bakugo into town to pick up some lunch and seen a girl throwing a ball for her dog, Kirishima had had the overwhelming urge to chase something and had gone to find a ball as soon as they had returned to the dorms. The warm weather had brought Bakugo outside where he now sat in a small lawn chair, attempting to do his homework for the day with the bright sun gleaming on his skin. Kirishima whined softly and nudged Bakugo’s arm, his fluffy tail ruffling the grass underneath him and his eyes shining with repressed excitement. Bakugo sighed and glared at the joyful dog, his patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing moment.

“Oi! Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m busy, go entertain yourself and stop annoying the shit out of me before I drag you to the pound.”

Kirishima didn’t even flinch at the harsh words, his tail wagging faster as Bakugo’s scowl deepened. Kirishima knew that Bakugo didn’t mean any of what he said, only putting up walls to seem more reserved and powerful but Kirishima knew better. He ignored Bakugo’s constant attempts to be rid of him and pestered him until Bakugo finally cracked. The explosive blonde gave in when Kirishima placed the slobber-covered ball directly onto Bakugo’s homework, leading the angry teen to throw his hands up in angry exasperation and grab the ball.

“Is this seriously what you want?” Bakugo asked with a hint of disgust.

Kirishima barked loudly and spun in a circle, his fluffy tail brushing Bakugo’s leg as he did so.

“Alright, alright, fine! Just shut up and sit still!” Bakugo snapped before leaning back, ball in hand and closed his eyes. Allowing the power of his quirk to flow through him, Bakugo opened his eyes and snapped his arm forward, the pop of a loud explosion echoing throughout the courtyard as the ball was catapulted over the expansive meadow, flying through the air for an almost unbelievable distance. Kirishima did not hesitate, tearing after the ball with a joyful bark, his body turning into nothing more than a black and white mottled streak as he picked up speed. Despite himself, Bakugo smirked a little at the sight of his best friend tearing across the grass to catch the ball, his tongue lolling and his ears pinned in excitement. He had half a mind to record his friend and use it for blackmail to tease him with later, but decided against it as Kirishima dove for the ball and began to trot back with it proudly.

“It’s not as if you just took down a Grade A villain, you don’t have to act so prideful,” Bakugo said sullenly as Kirishima came back to his friend, his tail wagging happily. Kirishima ignored his friend’s brash comments and sat at the boy’s feet, dropping the ball on the ground and tilting his head.

“No! I just threw it for you! Go do something else, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo said, waving his hand dismissively and sitting back down in the lawn chair.

Kirishima once again ignored Bakugo and padded up to the chair, his muzzle resting on Bakugo’s stomach.

“What the hell are you doing, you shitty dog? Go on!” Bakugo said, using his hands to push Kirishima off of him. Bakugo tried not to think about how his body actually felt colder when Kirishima removed his muzzle.

Not giving up on his best friend and crush just yet, Kirishima leaned back and lightly nipped Bakugo’s fingers. The blonde immediately launched out of his chair and tried to pounce on the smiling cattle dog, his fingers smoking slightly.

“What the actual fuck, Shitty Hair!?” Bakugo yelled, slamming his palm down on the grass as he missed Kirishima by just a hair, his eyes sparkling angrily.

Kirishima barked once and snatched the ball off of the ground to place it right in front of Bakugo’s face. Bakugo scowled but eventually stood up and scooped the ball up off of the ground.

“You mean to say that if I keep throwing this stupid ball for you that you will leave me alone?”

Kirishima smiled even wider, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, and nodded his head once.

“Fine,” Bakugo said in exasperation.

Kirishima’s tail wagged harder as the explosive teen brought his arm back and used another explosion from his palm to send the ball soaring through the air. Kirishima tore off again, something that Bakugo used to his advantage to sit back in the lawn chair, pulling his homework back into his lap and pressing his pencil to the paper.

Not even thirty seconds later, Kirishima was back at Bakugo’s feet, his tail wagging as the ball bounced from his mouth to the pavement below him. Bakugo shot him his nastiest glare but Kirishima didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling as he waited. Finally realizing that there was absolutely no way around his best friend, Bakugo sighed and began to pack up his school work. As soon as everything was packed away in his bag, Bakugo leaned down and reached a hand out to pat Kirishima’s head.

“You just don’t give up, do you, Kiri?”

Kirishima somehow brightened even more at Bakugo’s use of his favorite nickname. Bakugo chuckled slightly, his gaze softening as he really looked at his friend. The friend who had never given up on him, even when he was being an asshole. The friend who had always unconditionally cared for him and helped him even when Bakugo threatened him with death for doing so. The friend who always brought him food when he forgot to eat and the friend who always managed to know exactly what Bakugo needed at any exact moment. As the explosive blonde took in his friend’s gentle gaze and slightly wagging tail, Bakugo felt something stir in his heart that confused the shit out of him. He jolted in place and removed his hand from his friend’s head as if he had been burned. Kirishima’s tail faltered in its wagging a little but his kind gaze never left Bakugo’s face. Bakugo felt shaky all over, he felt as if he couldn’t control his thoughts or his heart which was beginning to beat erratically.

Quickly picking up the ball once again, Bakugo launched it into the air and sent it flying in his haste, his nerves making all of his movements feel stiff and exaggerated. Kirishima hesitated for the first time since the pair had started playing, his eyes roving over his best friend in concern before he tore off after the ball.

“Damn Shitty Hair is always so observant,” Bakugo whispered to himself as he tried desperately to get a hold on his emotions. By the time Kirishima had returned with the ball in his mouth, Bakugo had gotten a handle on his feelings for the most part. He threw the ball for his friend again, still worried about his lack of control. The strength of the conflicting feelings that had washed over him had been overwhelming, something that terrified him to no end. Bakugo had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even see or hear Kirishima pad back up to him, only realizing that his friend was there when the cattle dog pressed his wet nose into Bakugo’s palm.

“So damn high maintenance,” Bakugo grumbled but even to himself, it sounded pitifully weak and shaky. Picking the ball up off of the ground, he leaned back and sent the ball flying over the field once more. As soon as the ball was in the air, Bakugo turned away from Kirishima and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide and his heart pounding as he tried to handle the messy ball of emotions that was threatening to burst through his chest. He had no idea what they meant and his confusion was what scared him even more. He turned back around, spinning slowly on his heel as he wrestled with himself. What he didn’t expect was to see Kirishima sitting patiently in front of him, his tail wrapped neatly around his paws. Confusion clouded his brain even more as he looked around for the ball he had thrown.

“I think you are getting faster at this Kiri, you were only gone for ten seconds,” the blonde said, his eyes roving around until he realized why the ball was nowhere in sight. Kirishima had never left.

“Oi! What’s the big idea? You begged me forever for me to throw that ball! Go fetch it!”

Kirishima just continued to sit and watch his friend who was starting to get agitated.

“Go fetch the fucking ball, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima ignored him and stood up, slowly making his way over to his distressed friend.

“Are you deaf? Go bring back that ball!” Bakugo said with less force as Kirishima approached him, his heart beating ever faster as he came closer. When Kirishima reached him, Bakugo kneeled down and held out his hand to lightly hold the cattle dog’s cheek.

“Is something wrong with you?” Bakugo asked in a voice that Kirishima had never heard before, one that was soft and caring, a voice that gave Kirishima a sneak-peek into Bakugo’s guarded heart. Kirishima wagged his tail and leaned back, raising a paw and placing it on Bakugo’s chest right over his heart. Bakugo sucked in a breath at the contact and glanced between the paw stationed over his heart and the kind eyes that always seemed to be trained on him no matter how rudely he acted. For the first time since Kirishima had known him, Bakugo allowed a few tears to leak from the corners of his eyes, showing Kirishima his weaknesses for the first time ever.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Bakugo asked in a low whisper, his insecurities pouring out in waves, his tears staining his cheeks as he cried. Bakugo closed his eyes then, not really wanting to look into those selfless eyes anymore. Not wanting to look at the gaze of care and kindness that he felt he didn’t really deserve. The tears came down stronger as he tried to hold back, angry at himself for lowering his walls for a person who he couldn’t possibly deserve.

Bakugo gasped audibly as he felt strong arms envelop him in a strong hug. Bakugo’s eyes snapped open and shot over to look at his friend who was beaming back at him with his usual toothy grin. The redhead's eyes were shining even brighter than before as they searched Bakugo’s for any sign that he wasn’t okay with him being this close to him. Bakugo swallowed thickly as Kirishima finally decided to throw caution to the wind and smash his lips against Bakugo’s. The blonde was more than a bit bewildered when this happened, his heart threatening to explode out of his chest as the swarm of emotions he had felt earlier came crashing over him once more but with even more ferocity than before. His nerves were set on fire as Kirishima’s lips met his, the kiss demanding him to give something back, to either pull away or lean into the motions.

Despite the confusion, despite the fear, despite the newness of everything that was happening with him at that moment, this was what felt right. Kirishima pulled away and looked at the ground bashfully, slight disappointment crossing his face at Bakugo’s lack of a reaction.

“I’m so sorry, Bakugo I don’t know what I was thinking I just-” Kirishima was cut off as Bakugo launched forward and locked his lips with Kirishima’s once more, closing his eyes and growling in satisfaction. Kirishima was stunned for a moment but immediately responded once he got a grip on himself, pulling Bakugo closer as they fought for dominance. The pair only separated for breath, both of the boys panting as they sat on the patio in the sun, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Bakugo said gruffly.

“You alright man?” Kirishima asked with a slightly amused glance at the explosive boy.

“Never better,” Bakugo responded, smirking at the blinding smile Kirishima gave him. “You know, I don’t know if this is right Kiri, but it feels right for me and I’m abnormal enough to deal with it, how about you?”

Kirishima leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Bakugo’s, his eyes shining with a clear love for the boy he had been lusting over since he met him.

“I’m more than ready to finally be with you Bakugo, nothing will change that no matter if it is right or wrong. Nothing is ever wrong when I am with you.”

Bakugo felt his heart clench in a way he had never felt before as he heard Kirishima’s confession to him. Maybe being different wasn’t so bad after all. Finally snapping out of his reverie, Bakugo looked down before shooting his eyes back up, a light blush dusting his features.

“What? Too sappy?” Kirishima asked with a grin.

“No, it's just that you were wearing fur earlier but now that you are back to normal…”

Kirishima tilted his head in slight confusion before glancing down. Immediately Kirishima’s face turned the same shade as his hair as he rushed to cover himself with his hands, completely forgetting that his clothes had not materialized onto his body when he changed back into a person. Bakugo leaned back and took off his shirt to hand to his new boyfriend, trying not to smile at the craziness of the situation. Using the shirt as a cover, Kirishima stood gingerly and linked his arm with Bakugo’s as his new boyfriend led him back inside to get some new clothes.

“You still need to go get my ball back,” Bakugo said suddenly, breaking the silence as the pair rushed back to Kirishima’s room.

Kirishima blanched and blinked with wide eyes until he remembered what he was talking about. Kirishima broke into a loud bout of laughter that made Bakugo smirk.

“Sure, as soon as I get some clothes on I’ll go and get your precious ball,” Kirishima said, making his way into his dorm room. Bakugo waited for him as his boyfriend got properly dressed and came back out.

“Kiri?” Bakugo said.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna play a game of catch?”

#mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #bnha eijiro kirishima #bakugo #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo #kiribaku

6 notes · View notes