#j writes
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HELLO HELLO EVERYONE :D
This is a fic for an AU where young teenager TCD Scar comes through Grian's rift :) It's a trauma reveal folks <33
Enjoy!!
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Grian was beginning to believe that the rift had some form of sentience, given that at times it appeared to become quite… temperamental. Some days it would be almost eerily still and slow. Others it would— Well, it would do what it was currently doing.
The rift was swirling with more shades of purple than usual, dark patches appearing and disappearing with alarming frequency. There was an electricity in the air that made the hair on his arms stick up, and Grian had the strange feeling in his stomach that the thing was emitting some sort of sound that was too low or high for human ears. It felt a bit like a thunderstorm.
Grian had set up shop immediately upon noticing something was different, resorting to sitting in a chair staring at the Rift waiting on it to do something. It was horrifically tedious. Grumbot — in true Grumbot fashion — was refusing to give him a straight answer. Grian was beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t have one.
So he waited. With several cups of coffee and messy notes strewn around him on the ground, he waited.
He was sleeping when the whole thing really started — because the Universe hated him personally, he was sure.
He was already sitting up by the time he regained consciousness, heart beating in his chest, eyes wide and darting around in confusion, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was too bright, and his vision was too blurry from sleep, and where in void’s name was that wind coming from?
The rift chose that moment to start spitting lightning at him, and Grian let out a strangled yell as he dove behind Grumbot’s messaging system, abandoning his empty coffee cups to an uncertain fate. He ducked down and shut his eyes tightly as the glow of the Rift got brighter and brighter, as the high pitched noise emitting from it got higher and higher, until finally something in the fabric of reality snapped under the strain.
From across the room, there was a short, terrified yell, cut short by the impact of something hitting the ground, and a clatter, like the person had dropped something. There was sudden and complete silence, until it was broken by a quiet groan. Heart in his throat, Grian opened his eyes and shifted, peeking over his makeshift shield to check things out.
The Rift was back to what he considered to be normal, glowing a serene purple, calm as anything. His notes were strewn about the room and burned at the edges. His coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen.
On the ground was a person. They were curled up on their side, clutching at their head with gloved hands. Their clothes were ragged and torn, bandages peeking out from under them as the figure shifted slowly. And then they sat up, and their face drifted into view.
Grian’s breath hitched, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the blocks he was hiding behind. It was a kid. He had messy brown hair, jagged and uneven, like he’d cut it himself, and a bandage creeping up the side of his face from under his chin. He had a bandana tied around his neck, mostly a faded green, except for the faint splatters of dull red. His face was gaunt and his eyes were wide and scared as he patted himself down frantically, muttering to himself. The kid couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. He did not look like someone who believed he would live for much longer.
Grian let himself poke his head just a bit higher over the barrier, frozen in shock and confusion as his unplanned visitor started whirling around and looking at the floor. His gaze finally landed on something that Grian couldn’t quite see, and his shoulders dropped in what seemed like relief as he went to pick it up.
Grian… didn’t know what he was expecting. A sword, maybe? No.
The raggedy little teenager had popped through an interdimensional rift in Grian’s basement, looking like absolute hell, and he picked up a gun.
The kid checked that it was loaded in practiced movements, almost with the grace of a soldier. It contrasted sharply with the youth of his face, and the way his shoelaces were untied and tucked into his shoes. It painted a very concerning picture.
His visitor was just beginning to gather his bearings, hauling himself to his feet with suppressed sounds of pain. He was favoring one leg. The gun was poised at the ready in his arms.
Never let it be said that Grian was a smart man, given what he did next.
“You can’t have those here.”
The kid made a strangled noise of alarm as he whipped around to face where Grian now stood apart from his makeshift cover, his hands raised in what he hoped was the universal gesture for ‘I mean no harm’. And then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t the usual kind of chaos that happened around here, but he was going to try his best to take it in stride. What was the worst that could happen? He’d get shot?
He’d respawn. But the kid was staring at him like he wasn’t aware of that. Like maybe he was counting on the opposite to be true.
Grian forced himself to look past the very threatening weapon pointed at him to get a better look at the person's face, and he met his eyes. They were a striking shade of green, trained on him with pinpoint accuracy and refusing to waver. At first glance, he looked almost angry. Grian knew, though, that it was only a thinly veiled cover for the heart-stopping panic crowding in behind it. For the confusion and pain and fear. (And why could he read a stranger so well?)
“I won’t hurt you,” Grian said, calm as he could manage, wings tense behind him. “But you’ve got to put the gun down.”
“You can talk,” the kid said, quiet and shaky. Like it was surprising. Something about it made Grian’s chest squeeze.
“Yeah, I can,” Grian said, gentler now. “So can you. Can you tell me your name?”
The gun trembled for a moment, just slightly, and then went eerily steady once more. The kid swallowed hard and glanced around for a second before locking back on to Grian.
“You’re not… infected?” The kid asked finally.
Grian frowned a bit in confusion, his brow furrowing and wings rustling in unease. Infected. It sounded like a word with more weight than was really warranted. Like it came with a history.
“I’m— No, I’m healthy as a horse,” Grian said, cracking an awkward grin. “Eat my vegetables and everything.”
The kid tilted his head, just slightly, and the gun dipped just a bit more towards the ground. Or, well. Towards Grian’s stomach.
“A horse?” The kid repeated slowly, still in that carefully quiet tone, and if Grian didn’t know any better he’d think that he didn’t know what a horse was. Maybe he didn’t.
“Yeah, you know— sort of like cows,” Grian said, now feeling absolutely insane. He was explaining the concept of horses while held at gunpoint. “But they’ve got longer faces, I think. And you can ride them.”
The kid, if anything, seemed more confused by that, and Grian gave up on the agriculture lesson for now.
“You don’t need that here,” Grian redirected, gesturing carefully at the gun. The kid flinched a little at his movement, and Grian softened his voice as much as he could. “You’re safe, here. It’s safe.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
The kid's shoulders tensed even further, the gun recentering itself firmly on Grian’s forehead and those oddly familiar green eyes shuttering back into a mask of calm. Only the slight tremble of his mouth gave away his fear. He was scared. A tangle of frustration and heartbreak and helplessness coiled in Grian’s chest.
“It’s not,” the kid said, firmly. “It’s not safe anywhere.”
Where had he come from, that he believed that?
“Look, you— You see that behind you? It’s a portal,” Grian explained, motioning to it in jerky movements. “Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re somewhere new.”
The kid shook his head, desperate eyes flickering from Grian to the Rift and quickly back again. They were shining with unshed tears, his mouth wobbling almost imperceptibly, and for a moment he looked terribly, horrifically young. Too young to be holding a gun. Too young to be scared of the world. Too young to be so convinced that it couldn’t change. That there was no more hope for things to get better.
“But I— No. I didn’t go into any portal,” the kid said, voice raising a little, accusing. “Then how did I get here? Did— You did something.”
“No no no,” Grian said, hands raised again. “That thing has a mind of its own, I didn’t do anything. I just sat here.”
“Well I didn’t do anything, either!” The kid said, sounding slightly hysterical.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Grian said, as gentle as he could manage. His protective instincts were going haywire; he didn’t really know why. “Look, just— Weird things just happen sometimes. Trust me, I’d know.”
“Then where am I?” The kid asked, voice shaking horribly.
“It’s called Hermitcraft,” Grian said, voice still carefully calm. “We’re in my house. Well— Under it.” He paused, hesitating, and his next question came out hushed. “Where did you come from?”
The stranger let out a shaky breath, gun unwavering and silence hanging in the still air around them. He didn’t answer. Grian could guess that it was nowhere good.
They had run out of ways to stall the inevitable, in which the kid had two options. Shoot him or don’t. They were at a standstill. Something had to give.
A soft noise from across the cavern interrupted Grian’s racing thoughts, and it took him a moment to place it as a muffled baa from one of the sheep in his sheep farm. It was barely anything, and yet the kid reacted as if it were a creeper beginning to explode, whirling to face the noise with wild eyes, swinging his gun in that direction. Namely, away from Grian.
Before he could think better of it, Grian rushed forwards, using his wings to propel him, and he disarmed the other before he even had the time to yell. A stray bullet shot somewhere into the ceiling in the brief struggle, loud enough that Grian knew someone would be coming round to check on it soon, and when the dust settled he was holding a gun, looking into the pale face of a terrified stranger.
“No!” The kid shouted, the loudest he’d been since he’d arrived, pushing at Grian with shaky shoves as he grappled for the gun. Grian deflected his attacks, heart sinking into his stomach as he watched the other grow increasingly frantic, breaths coming fast. “It’s mine! Give it back, it’s mine! You can’t have it, it— it’s mine. Please, please, it’s—”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grian said, out of his depth, practically pleading. “Nothing is going to hurt you, okay? But you— you can’t hurt anyone else, either.”
The kid just shook his head, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes as he backed away, hands in trembling fists at his sides. He glared at Grian with all the fire of a hardened soldier and all the fear of a child, green eyes flashing dangerously. Something prickled at the back of Grian’s neck. Some feeling he couldn’t identify. Déjà vu, maybe.
“It’s mine,” the kid repeated, firmer and quieter. “It has my name on it.”
Grian looked down, mildly curious among the adrenaline and confusion.
He stopped breathing. Froze completely, hands white-knuckled on the gun. His skin went cold, heart tripping over itself in his chest.
On the gun, in capital letters, was a name.
[ SCAR ]
A name that he knew.
Slowly, Grian looked up, breath hitching in his throat when he met the eyes of the stranger(?), now looking a little confused himself. There was a bandage on the side of his face. Judging by the size of it, it was covering a pretty nasty wound. Likely to leave a scar.
Grian knew exactly what it would look like, when it healed.
“Scar,” Grian said, his voice sounding odd in his own ears, blank and emotionless. “Your name is Scar.”
“I named myself,” the kid — Scar — said, still shaking a little, glancing around near-constantly.
Grian swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, mind void of any clear thoughts. “It’s a good name,” he said, chest aching.
“Do you have one?” Scar asked. His hands were fisted in the front of his jacket, twisting anxiously.
“A gun?” Grian asked faintly.
Scar shook his head. “A name.”
“I’m… Grian. My name is Grian.”
“Grian,” Scar repeated, nose wrinkling a little, like he thought it was odd. Scar — his Scar — had made the exact same face last week when he’d come across a problem at his park. Grian felt sick. “You’re—”
The rapidly approaching sound of fireworks cut off whatever the kid had been about to say, and he flinched like he’d been struck, turning wide eyes to the sky as he stumbled a few steps back, towards Grian’s content generator. Grian looked up as well, torn between relief and frustration. The kid had finally seemed to be calming down.
“It’s okay,” Grian said, rushed and panicked as he held out a placating hand towards Scar. “It’s just one of my friends. They won’t hurt you.”
“Friends?” Tiny scared Scar hissed, like the very idea was ludicrous, and Grian was mildly offended.
Before he could come up with a reply, there was a call of his name from above, and Grian snapped his gaze back skyward, heartrate accelerating.
Of course, Grian thought, watching as Scar crashed unceremoniously into the ground a few yards away. Of course it was him. Grian took a steadying breath and prepared himself. This was either the best possible option, or the worst. There was no telling where luck would have him fall, this time.
“Grian, I heard explosions!” Scar said, elytra disappearing as he straightened up from his rough landing. “Are you blowing things up without me? You know how much I—”
The builder cut himself off with a strangled noise, face falling quickly into something haunted. Almost scared. Any doubt Grian might have had about who the kid was vanished. They had the same way of being afraid.
The way Scar was looking at the gun Grian was still holding confirmed it. He was looking at it with wide eyes and tense shoulders, breathing quick and shallow. He was looking at it with recognition.
“Where did you get that?” Scar asked, in a voice that Grian had never heard from him before, dark and small and shaking.
Wordlessly, Grian stepped out of the way.
And he watched as Scar locked eyes with his younger self. Just another day on Hermitcraft.
#phil aresonist this ones for you /lh#goodtimeswithscar#grian#hermitcraft s9#the rift#hermitcraft#hermitcraft season 9#tcd#jay's journal#gtws#desert duo#j writes
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"Chip asked Gillion what his favorite color was, and he simply replied brown as if the answer held no gravity. At the time, Chip hadn’t believed him.
Gillion wasn’t lying. He couldn’t lie to Chip, especially not about something so trivial. It was brown, but it wasn’t brown in the simplest sense. He said brown, but he meant the off-gold amber hue that reminds him so much of the color of storm-crossed rocks after the sun eventually comes up after a night of thunder and lightning, like mother nature is letting the light return. Like the gods are reminding me I remain alive.
He’d said brown, but he’d meant a burnt umber, a mahogany, speckled with flecks of gold like a precious metal buried in a river rock, something ethereal in an otherwise everyday object. Darkened when crossed, but honeyed when shining with mirth. A shade I’ve never seen under the waves, a place where color is dampened and stained with cerulean.
He’d said brown, but he’d meant the shift to a marigold shade when such brown hits the light of a boyish smile. Like the hue changes when mischeif enters his mind, a color changing crystal in his own right. Like amber hitting the sunlight.
Gillion Tidestrider said his favorite color was brown, and he meant it, in the simplest terms. But brown, in the back of his weary and exhausted mind, more meant brown, but in the eyes of the boy I love."
-------- a black blooded martyr (AO3)
tbh i'm mostly just proud of this section oops . . .
#jrwi#jrwi riptide#gillion tidestrider#just roll with it#chip jrwi#fish n chips#jrwi gillion#j writes#just roll with it riptide
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kinktober day one:
homelander x reader
using this prompt list by @the-purity-pen
prompt: dirty talk
word count: 561 (super short sorry!)
author's note: i’m gonna try to do kinktober !! i miss writing sm and it has been so long since i’ve had any form of inspiration !! this is a short lil blurb i’m sorry it’s not longer, i kinda proofread (i'm like half asleep rn but i wanna post this) (ok bye)
18+ only!! minors DNI - your media consumption is your responsibility!
“What would your little friends think, huh?” His tone of voice is mocking, demeaning. “If they saw you like this,” his eyes gaze up and down your body, which is pressed against the wall of your apartment. He has a hand wrapped around your throat as his eyes sweep over you. You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, not exactly expecting a visitor at 2 a.m.
No, not a visitor.
An intruder.
Sleep keeps your brain foggy, eyelids heavy as you look up at him. You don’t respond, continuing to just look at him.
He presses his body into you, hand moving up to your jaw so he can tilt it. His lips brush the shell of your ear, “You’re dripping for me.”
Your eyes flutter closed at his words, hating yourself as you think about how sweet his voice sounds. He was a casual addiction, like caffeine or sugar. You didn’t notice yourself falling for him until it was too late- until the crash came. When you found yourself stuck between your good friend, Hughie, and the man who wanted to kill him: John. When you realized that, inevitably, you would have to choose. You couldn’t have both- John wouldn’t allow it. Hell, you’re surprised he hasn’t found the old Nintendo DS that you use to communicate with Hughie (he gave it to you as a gift a while ago, thanks to his employee discount at the shop).
“What would they think,” Homelander continues, pausing to bite the shell of your ear in between his teeth and tugging gently, “if they saw me splitting you open on my cock? If they saw the way you push back against me when I bend you over? You practically fuck yourself on it.”
You moan softly at his words, “Please,” you whisper. You’re not sure why you’re saying it. Is it a plea, a prayer? To some higher power, to John, to yourself for being so fucking stupid?
“I want to break you and put you back together again, and I want to be inside of you the whole time that I do so.” John says lowly, breath against your neck. His hands begin to rub up and down your body, groping and and kneading as he goes.
“John, please,” your hands wrap around his biceps, holding on to him as if he’s an anchor. “I need you.”
“Need me to what?” he kisses your neck as he waits for your response.
“Whatever you want,” you pant, fingernails digging into him, “anything.”
His arms hook around your thighs and he lifts you up, “I wanna watch you fall apart on my cock, honey,” his voice is low and raspy, a few notches above a whisper.
Your mouth opens before you can stop it, “Yes, John, as many times as you want, please,” your arms wind around his shoulders.
His voice is a whisper this time, “I wanna hear you say it.”
There's a small part of you that is embarrassed at how fast you follow his instruction, "Ruin me," it comes out clearly, accompanied by the daring look in your eyes.
His eyes are locked with yours as he sees the many more words you're saying with just a look. He smiles, thumbs tenderly caressing your thighs as he continues to hold you, your legs wrapped around his waist.
"Whatever you want, honey."
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander smut#john gillman#john gillman x reader#lemon#smut#my writing#j writes#john gillman smut
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Mirror Mirror On The Wall...
As you were pushing away the wet hair stuck to your forehead, your mirror started to ripple, and before you had any time to process what was happening, a boy appeared on the other side. You both seemed to have the same reaction, and jumped away from the mirror with a yelp.
A/N: Aka you meet Riddle through a mirror before you arrive at NRC. First post, accomplished!! This is my first time writing a full drabble/fic, so I hope its not too all over the place. There's probably some inconsistencies with the twst canon so keep in mind it might be a bit OOC. Might do some of the other characters if this does well :3 Anyways, hope y'all enjoy! Apologies for any grammar mistakes. small note, I write NRC as an actual college, so everyone will be At Least 18.
Tw: None
Today was not a good day.
First you forgot to set your alarm and woke up late, which meant you had to rush and get ready for class. And just your luck that you were late for the class with your meanest professor, who chewed you out in front of all your classmates and you heard them snicker at your misfortune.
Then, as you were getting ready to go back home, it started to rain. In your panic to get dressed and out the door before your class started, you forgot your umbrella. How lovely. Complaining wouldn't do anything about the rain, so you just suck it up and run back home, hoping your bag won't get too wet.
At least you had some of your comfort food waiting for you at home, right? Nope. You were supposed to go buy some groceries today, but the rush of everything made you completely forget, which also meant you had none of your favorite foods in your fridge. You probably had enough to make the worlds saddest sandwich, but even thinking about it made you want to cry.
Finally having had enough of this terrible day, you decided to just go to your room and lay down for a while, maybe take a nap and sleep this bad day away. You open the bedroom door and head over to the dresser mirror. You kind of looked like a wet dog. A sad, wet dog.
As you were pushing away the wet hair stuck to your forehead, your mirror started to ripple, and before you had any time to process what was happening, a boy appeared on the other side. You both seemed to have the same reaction, and jumped away from the mirror with a yelp.
"What the fuck?!" You yelled, thinking perhaps the all-nighters you pulled the past few days had finally caught up with you.
"Who are you?!" Yelled the boy back at you, his eyes darting around the mirror, probably wondering how this was all happening.
"Why-" You start off, rubbing your eyes, unsure of what to say, "How is there someone in my mirror?"
You both looked at each other for a moment, and you came to the conclusion that either the boy in the mirror was real or you were in serious need of mental help. You stop thinking about having possibly lost your mind for a moment to look closely at the boy in front of you. He had bright red hair, with two small pieces of his hair forming a heart (which you thought was pretty cute... Maybe you could try a similar style sometime), and big grey eyes that seemed to be calculating your every move. His skin was pale, and his posture was (after regaining his composure) pin straight and perfect. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then started to talk.
"I take it you aren't the one who did this, considering how shocked you are. And if you did do this, I assume you wouldn't show up soaking wet." He says, quite matter of factly, and you remember your current appearance.
"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. How would I even do this? By all means, this-" You say, motioning towards the mirror with your hand, "-should be impossible." You say, a bit annoyed at the fact that he also seems to think you look like a wet dog.
"Somebody must have put a spell on our mirrors, though I wonder who would dare step into my room to pull such a childish prank." He says, and his face starts to get a bit red from anger. You scoff at him, and he turns towards you, annoyance gracing his features as he raises an eyebrow.
"A spell, seriously? What are you, five?" You tell him, though it's not like you have any logical reason as to why a random boy has appeared through your mirror. You take a moment to quickly look behind your dresser mirror, but you only see the wall. The redhead scoffs at you, and you look back at your mirror in time to see him narrow his eyes, looking as if you were starting to get on his nerves.
"Yes, a spell! What else could it be? It seems like it might have been someones Unique Magic, considering the distance between our mirrors, since you don't appear to be a student at NRC." He says, annoyance slipping out in his tone, though it's not like he could hide it with the way he was looking at you.
"What are you even talking about? Magic isn't real." You say back at him, and he raises his eyebrows at your statement.
"What are you talking about? You must live under a rock if you think magic isn't real. You are from Twisted Wonderland, aren't you?" You go quiet at his remark, confusion showing on your face.
"Hold on, we definitely aren't even close to being on the same page right now. How about we start over and see if we can actually understand each other, deal?" You offer, and the boy takes a deep breath, before nodding along to your request.
After calmly (or as calmly as you possibly could) talking with the boy, you had learned a few things about him.
His name was Riddle, and he was currently a first year student at Night Raven College, which was somewhere in a place called Twisted Wonderland. After introducing yourself and telling him where you were from, you both concluded that Twisted Wonderland wasn't anywhere on Earth, and vice versa. You truly had no idea how something like this could even happen, but if you put any more thought into it you were sure your head would explode with unanswered questions. That was something for future you to think about.
You also learned that magic was a real thing in Twisted Wonderland, which is why he was so annoyed at your disbelief that someone had casted a spell on your mirrors, but when you explained that magic wasn't a thing back in Earth, he understood your reaction.
"Well, I must go. It is almost time for me to go to bed." Said Riddle, which made you look at the time, almost 9 o'clock.
"I have to go as well, I need to change out of these clothes before I get a cold or something," You say, pulling at the damp clothes stuck to your body. "But I'll see you later, I guess? If the mirror happens to do it's thing again."
"I suppose so. Goodnight, until we meet again." Riddle says, and as you wave goodbye, the mirrors surface ripples and the boy disappears from your sight.
Standing for a few seconds more to gather your thoughts, you wonder if maybe this really was just a dream. A weirdly real feeling dream. Whatever, you can think about it later. Right now you needed to take a warm shower and go to sleep.
You saw Riddle a few more times after that, and it was a nice surprise whenever you saw his reflection on your mirror. You would talk about how your day went, occasionally venting about what was bothering you, and Riddle offering advice when he thought you needed it. He would tell you about his studies and classmates, and you laughed at how often there seemed to be chaos at NRC.
You came to learn that he was a stickler for the rules, memorizing hundreds of them for 'when he became a Housewarden' he said.
"I will become a Housewarden next year, and to be a Housewarden of Heartslabyul I must know all 810 rules of the Queen of Hearts. How else will I guide my dorm?" He said with a smirk, and when you said that seemed way too excessive he went on an hour long rant, in which you decided to not mention the ridiculousness of the Queen's rules ever again.
You also learned that he had a big sweet tooth. His eyes would light up at the mention of sweets, and he loved to learn about the different sweets in your world, as well as comparing them to the sweets from Twisted Wonderland. He also told you about his friend, Trey, and how his homemade sweets were some of the best he had tasted. You were a little jealous that you couldn't have a taste.
There were times when you managed to make Riddle smile or laugh, and your chest felt warm each time you managed to make it happen. The first time this happened was when you tried baking on your own. Riddle had been bragging about some sweets Trey had made, and you thought 'what the hell, it couldn't be that hard, could it?'. You were just about to start your recipe, when you accidentally knocked the bag of flour off the counter, and in your haste to try and save the bag you got flour absolutely everywhere in your kitchen (and all over yourself). You heard Riddle calling from your dresser mirror and trudged over to your room, cursing at the mirrors timing and trying not to get flour everywhere. He heard the door creak open and looked up to see you covered head to toe in flour, an angry look on your face which looked ridiculous paired with the flour, and before he could stop himself he burst out laughing.
His laughter made such a beautiful sound, and his smile was just as lovely. You stood at your doorway, stunned, processing the fact that you made the ever serious Riddle laugh. Your previous anger at the mess you made seemed to melt away at the sound of his laughter, and you couldn't help but join in and laugh at the entire situation.
It wasn't very often when he laughed, but every time you heard his soft giggles, your chest got all warm and fuzzy. You were quite proud of yourself whenever this happened.
Riddle would never admit this, but he was also starting to grow fond of you. Aside from Trey and Che'nya, he felt like he had gained a new companion, and although you both didn't always see eye to eye, you were able to have fun and comforting conversations together, which Riddle greatly treasured. He always looked forward to the next time you would appear on his mirror, though he kept his excitement hidden.
Even if you did think he was too strict sometimes, with himself and others, you became quite fond of Riddle as well, which is why you were sad to see that his appearances on your mirror were starting to dwindle. The last time he appeared was about a month before the start of his second year. He told you he was chosen to become Housewarden, and you excitedly congratulated him on his accomplishment.
"It will become difficult to meet once I start my second year, due to my Housewarden responsibilities." Riddle told you, and while you were sad about that fact, you were also very proud of his accomplishment.
"Yeah, but I'll be cheering you on from my side!" You said, and Riddle felt his chest warm up at your enthusiasm.
You spent the rest of that evening catching each other up on everything that had happened in your lives since the last meeting. The mirror started to ripple, which meant you had a few seconds to say your goodbyes.
"Good luck Riddle! I know you will be an incredible Housewarden!" You said with a smile, waving goodbye to the smiling boy.
"Goodnight, until we meet again. And... thank you." Riddle replied, albeit a bit bashful at your well wishes, and his voice faded along with his reflection.
Neither of you knew that the next time you met would be marked by your arrival at NRC, but if someone had noticed how Riddle's cheeks were dusted in pink once you ran towards him and grabbed his hand, they kept quiet, lest they get collared by the blushing Housewarden. And if Riddle's heart skipped a beat once he met your gaze, well, that's only for him to know.
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Of Campaigns & Revelations (Steve/Eddie)
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson
Summary: Eddie loves planning campaigns, Steve loves planning events. So how exactly did the dream team get so sidetracked?
Words: 2700+
Notes: Ahhhh not only is he late with his first fic on this account, but he's late for SS too. I was lucky enough to write a fic for the absolutely incredibly talented @rosiesramblings! I tried to use all of your prompts (earning a reward, too much energy and boredom) somewhere in the fic and apologies for the late post, but I hope you like It!!! A big thank you to our lovely host @hypahticklish too. Happy happy holidays and a wonderful new year to everyone.
Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve swears it could shatter that Garfield mug he’s so obsessed with— despite the fact that he only uses the damn thing for hot chocolate.
Like the breathy laughter that burst from his lips last friday, When Robin spent a little too long comparing an old photo of Steve to the baby from The Labyrinth. Most memorably, a joke about their shared fashion taste had the party’s favorite dungeon master quite literally wheezing on the shag carpet, clutching his sides as if he’d never recover from the sheer hilarity of it all.
Or perhaps he was thinking of the high pitched yelp of laughter that broke free every time he was caught off guard. As much as Eddie hated to be genuinely scared, he found way too much amusement in getting jump scared. Shitty horror films, friends hiding behind doors, or even that lame haunted house from Halloween— All of the above earned the same result, a shriek that dissolved into laughter about halfway through.
Then again, they weren’t all bubbly and loud. Eddie’s laughter could be soft and sweet too, harboring an almost shy cadence when the time called for it and…
It’s at this exact moment, with utensils ever so neatly tucked into napkins and plates set along the grand mahogany dining room table, that Steve realizes he’s been thinking about Eddie Munson way too much. All it took was one crappy little chuckle, one silly reaction to a half assed joke, for his thoughts to wander. Anything the other said during his trance was a mystery, though as that playful voice came back into frame, Steve figured the context clues were probably easy enough to figure out.
“-not a fighter, clearly. Maybe a Paladin or a bard. One thing is for sure, you’d definitely play an elf or a half elf. A prince maybe. Estranged?” Eddie’s rambles are definitely pointed towards him, although it’s clearly more of a conversation with himself than anything else.
Calf crossed over thigh, he sits on the kitchen counter. Pale hands hold a green piping bag steady over a tray of freshly cooked sugar cookies, adding some ghoulish finishing touches. “Just say the word, Big Boy, and I’ll create the most perfect, personalized Steve Harrington campaign of the year.”
“You mean the only Steve Harrington campaign of the year?” Steve retorts.
Just like always, sarcasm drips from his lips like honey. Even after volunteering his house, time and energy to Eddie and his Hellfire Goblins, the self proclaimed babysitter still can’t seem to fight his natural born grumpiness.
That persona was like a security blanket or a teddy bear; Steve’s always relied on it to make the world less scary or more accurately, to make himself less vulnerable. The Harrington Boy, The King, The Babysitter, every new iteration had improvements, but they also had one thing in common: A security mechanism, an off switch of sorts. Something that Eddie Munson clearly lacked.
“Only cause you’re a buzzkill.” Eddie insists, licking a bit of green from his fingertips.
The cookies are far from perfect but they’ll undoubtedly impress the kids. Dark eyes examine each one with a precision he definitely didn’t supply when creating them, though eventually he deems them good enough with a dimpled grin and a cheeky thumbs up.
With two hours left on the clock, Eddie finds himself at a loss. All the fun tasks for the campaign tonight have been finished. Food and snacks were the first on the list to be crossed off with pizza scheduled for later and fresh baked cookies set to the side. Decorations were next. Everything from miniature figurines to home made maps to origami dragons and mini potion bottles for the kids filled with juice.
The idea to spike the potion bottles had been vetoed with a very amusing yet indignant huff. Despite Eddie's insistence that he was a 'born rebel' at fifteen, Steve refuses to give them a lick of alcohol before they hit senior year.
Aside from that, all that was left was mundane tasks like vacuuming or cleaning up the newly created mess in the kitchen. Most people would have cheered, thankful to finish their list of chores before the fun could begin. Though most people didn’t have as much energy as Eddie Munson.
“Well this is it, Stevie.” Eddie pipes up a few moments later, watching the other brunette readjust the table settings for a bunch of soon to be sophomores who definitely wouldn’t notice if the fork was on the left side or the right. “Two hours left and you’re too busy turning my campaign into a murder mystery dinner to pay attention to me so clearly? I’m dying. I can’t believe I’m gonna die of boredom in the Harrington Household… So big. So cold. So… white and mundane for someone as vibrant as myself.”
Eddie’s melodramatic performance is enough to peak Steve’s interest, but not his amusement.
“Finish Vacuuming the living room or stop complaining” Steve answers flatly. Over time, he’s learned that playing into the antics only magnifies them. Ninety nine percent of the time, just disregarding Eddie’s insane childish tendencies made them go away. “Besides, you can’t die from boredom.”
Ninety nine percent of the time, that would have worked.
Unfortunately, there was still that worrisome one percent to worry about.
“Well you might.”
“I might what—” Oblivious as ever, Steve finally ditches the table settings. Turning on his heel, the brunette’s lips are already parted, ready to question what the hell that response implies when he catches sight of the other’s stance.
Kitchen counter long since abandoned, the feisty dungeon master is taking stake across the room. Socked feet slide across dark polished wood, eerily unsettling in the quiet pace they set. Pale hands are held up, turned into claws with wiggling fingers that make Steve’s stomach flip as uncertainty settles in.
“Okay, okay. You might not die from my boredom.” Eddie hums lowly, lips curling into a grin that can only be described as downright mischievous. Each word is drawn out slower than the last, anticipation building between the two. “But you might not survive the cure. Let's see. I already tried knock knock jokes, barely effective. Funny movies, ehh somewhat works— Unless they’re too weird. Then you just sit all grumpy and confused— Anyway, not the point! Dear Steven, my point is…”
Similar to those puzzles Nancy used to force on him while babysitting Mike, he should’ve figured it out sooner, but he’s definitely seeing the picture a bit more clearly with time. They’re approximately halfway through Eddie’s villainous monologue when it clicks. Every example revolves around making him laugh which is an incredibly flustering thought all on its own. Out of all the ways to cure his boredom, Eddie wanted to do so while making Steve smile. Most people focused on his hair, his ass, his better known assets.
Eddie Munson was the first person to ever fixate on something so mundane.
Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have a second to worry about the heat crawling up the back of his neck, or the slowly developing crush that he’s most certainly going to ignore.
“… that I never asked if you were ticklish. Always felt like a cheap shot, you know? Low hanging fruit, but in the name of science, we do have to test every—” And that’s all it takes. The second the word ticklish leaves Eddie’s lips, the former jock is sprinting across the length of the dining room table and out of the room.
Heart hammering in his chest, the beat is so loud Steve can practically hear it ringing in his ears. White converse round a corner, running into the living room while quick footsteps sound close behind.
“Oh come on, Pretty Boy.” Eddie snorts through a laugh of his own. “Don’t run away from me!”
If he just looked back, he would have seen the way Eddie smiled at him from ear to ear, excitement and giddiness bursting from his pores. He would have seen the way the other nearly slipped in his socks, clearly lacking any grip as they ran around like little boys again. He would have seen the way those dark eyes lingered, how they drank him in, admiring his toned legs from years of athletics.
If he just looked back, maybe he would have registered how close he was to his demise. Then again, if he looked back, then Eddie might have seen how flustering that pet name was, or worse: He could have seen the smile tugging at his lips.
One foot rounds the corner of the couch but never gets the opportunity to touch down. Instead, fingers curl around the back of his sweater, swiftly pulling Steve until he’s falling. His back hits the sofa cushions with a soft grunt, brown locks splayed across the decorative pillow.
Everything flips in an instant. Eddie’s upper hand turns to shit the second he jumps onto the couch. Leaving more than enough room in between them, Steve takes the opportunity to act. Lightning quick reflexes give him just enough time to weave underneath the metalhead’s arm, flipping their positions until Eddie’s the one with his back against the couch and wide eyes looking up.
Though rather than looking scared he looks… exhilarated.
Any anxiety written across Steve’s face a minute ago is missing from Eddie’s now. As the general surprise wears off, he goes from wide eyed to giggly, immediately throwing his hands up in a mercy pose he knows won’t work. Wild curls fall in every direction, the occasional soft breathy laugh stumbling from his lips as he tries to worm out from underneath Steve’s pin.
“Stevie, C’mon. I was just trying to have a little bit of fun- Wait wait- Steve Hey-” In the long debated question of Dungeon Master Vs. Varsity Athlete, they finally know who comes out on top. Eddie’s rambled mixture of explanations, apologies and pleas fall on deaf ears the second nimble fingers touch down on his sides.
One of the most accessible vantage points, it proves rather successful when one squeeze elicits a sharp huff, all the air in his lungs leaving at once. Eddie’s body instinctively tries to pull away again, hands attempting to intercept Steve’s insistent poking and prodding of the soft flesh.
The silence lasts all of seven seconds. Any attempt to threaten Steve dies on his lips, choked out to make room for all the laughter taking control. Immediately thrashing around to the best of his ability, it’s clear that Eddie’s not going down peacefully.
“A little bit of fun doing what, Eds?” Steve questions. “Annoying me? Chasing me around my own house? I mean, shit, Munson. How the hell do you even have all of this energy? Honestly. I did you a favor flipping the tables, you clearly needed to tire yourself out.”
Each new guess and tease is accentuated with another poke at his vulnerable sides. One to the left right below his ribs, one to the right closer to his back, two on either side near his tummy, and one aimed in that squishy spot directly above his pantline— One that has his giggles interlaced with squeaks and squeals, struggling to handle any sort of stimulation that close to his hips.
“Nohohoho not thehehere!” Eddie whines half heartedly, though Steve can’t help but notice how little he fights back, hardly using any strength whatsoever in his attempts to grab onto those tortuous digits.
Thankfully for the thrashing Dungeon Master, Steve doesn’t get the chance to drill his thumbs into the divots of his hips for very long. An incredible stop on his grand tour of Eddie Munson’s giggle buttons, the destination proves to be too much. One sharp dig earns a yell so piercing the neighbor’s dog begins to bark, rough hands diving forward to grab onto anything for some sort of stability.
What Eddie’s trained fingers find instead is that squeezing Steve Harrington’s thighs renders the guy practically useless. A loud shriek splatters around the room, high pitched almost desperate giggles flying from his mouth. Any ounce of strength was sapped, curling up against Eddie’s chest in a way he’d swear was romantic in any other circumstance.
Umber eyes meet hazel, gazes locked with recognition on both sides before the tables are flipped yet again. Eddie hooks a leg underneath Steve’s knee, an arm worming out from below to wrap around his waist.
Before the Family Video employee can so much as suck in a breath from his fit of giggles, they’re back in the original position with a self proclaimed babysitter pretending not to enjoy himself on bottom and a metalhead who couldn’t hide it if he tried on top.
It turns out that Steve Harrington fucking shape shifts when you tickle him. The former jock’s confident sarcastic persona changes to something else entirely. If Eddie’s attempts to get away were half assed then Steve’s attempts don’t exist. Every new spot or tactic is brought with a new form of laughter, but they all have the same thing in common:
Steve’s leaning into it.
There’s no denying it. When teasing nails drag up his side, he turns into the affection rather than away from it. When his lower stomach is kneaded like a fresh pile of dough, he leans forward instead of pushing back. And when thumbs drill into his armpits, the brunette actually attempts to keep his arms up or at least not locked at his sides god forbid their fun ends too soon after being blocked.
Of course, Steve doesn’t notice this. Nor does he realize that Eddie was noticing this, but one of them has to be the observant one and it’s not the mess of giggles currently turning rosier with every passing second.
It’s almost as if their enjoyment is the key. Once that last bit of hesitance drains out, calloused fingers waste no time. Eddie changes spots again, this time clawing at his ribs with a smile that reeks of both vengeance and affection, a combo punch that would have made Steve breathless if he wasn’t already dissolving under deep belly laughter.
There’s way less talking now too. While Eddie’s an incredibly wiggly and talkative victim, babbling and thrashing through his hysterics, Steve seems to struggle getting anything out other than his laughter, only managing the occasional babble or squeal induced ‘Eds!’.
Finally those skilled guitarist fingers choose to take pity on him, allowing Steve to actually get a word in.
“Nohot… fair.” He breathes out through residual giggles. It doesn’t matter that the tickling has since ceased. Ghost sensations still tease and taunt across his sensitive skin, mentally swearing that he could still feel those fingertips dancing across his torso.
Eddie’s endearment drips like honey, dark eyes warming at the sight of his friend still struggling to get his act together. “No? I think that was totally fair. Plus, I slaved over those cookies, Stevie Boy. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Don’t I deserve a little prize?” His lips curl into a wicked grin, knowing damn well that his next words would fluster more than soothe. “Perhaps shaped in the form of those cute ass giggles of yours?”
Just as expected, heat begins to crawl up the back of Steve’s neck at the sentiment, though the rosy hue on his face from earlier makes it easy to mask the blush currently spreading. As if proving Eddie’s point further, playful pokes return to Steve’s torso, randomly nudging little spots until he’s back to bubbly uncontrollable giggles.
Using the last bit of strength, he reaches out to give Eddie’s side a squeeze, earning matching breathy laughter in return.
The fight grows less clear after that. Stray pokes and occasional squeezes keep both boys giddy, lost in their own little bubble.
For as long as he could remember, Steve Harrington had been a fixer. Even when the most misguided, he tried to right his own wrongs as well as everyone else’s around him. What began in early childhood as a terribly sad attempt of bringing his parents together had warped into a personality trait, a role he constantly forced himself to play out of fear of feeling useless.
But now the pressure of planning a perfect event for the kids is long forgotten and somehow he knows it’ll all work out. Because Eddie’s laughter is interlaced with his, their cheeks rosy and breath staggered. Suddenly, that familiar ache in his chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy as before and Steve realizes while doing absolutely nothing important at all, that he doesn't feel useless. He realizes that maybe…
“Hoholy Shit, Harrington. Forget weed. I think those damn giggles of yours got me high.”
Maybe this feeling between them was something else entirely.
Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve wonders if love has always sounded like this.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tickle fic#steddie fic#j writes#ss2k22#squealing santa 2k22#ahhhhh sorry for the late post <3#but please show support to hypah for hosting!!! and doing an incredible job#and please check out rosie's writing too literally??? incredible show stopping couldnt believe i was paired up with her
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@walrus150915
Finally finished the fic ^^
#Nimona#j writes#hi hope you enjoy the shenanigans ^^#brain tapped out at three scenerios but I enjoyed writing them ^^
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BatFam as “Shit My Friends’ Have Said” Part 8
Damian: “Consent is important to the blood pact.”
Jason, over comms: “Out at Burger King for a follow up.”
Dick: “My brother in Christ you’re there for chicken fries not a crime.”
Barbara, talking about Wally: “How would you know? Do you share a bed with him?”
Dick: “Only on Sundays and when his girl isn’t home.”
Steph: “Your days are numbered but I can’t count.”
Dick: “You left me alone for too long- it’s MILF time.”
Bruce: "You always need a break down before a family event or it’s not a family event"
Part 7 // Part 9
#dc incorrect quotes#batfam incorrect quotes#batfam#batfamily#damian wayne#jason todd#dick grayson#barbara gordon#stephanie brown#bruce wayne#j's making memes#j writes#j's dc headcanons
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The Night Shift Masterpost
☽✧ The Night Shift ✧☾
➢Author: Ghostiewvlfpack & JTheGhost
➢ Rating: Mature
➢ Pairings: Corpse X reader | Corpse X y/n
➢ Themes: Slow Burn | Coworkers To Lovers | Angst | Holiday | Mutual Pining | Fluff | Smut? | Hurt/Comfort | Soulmates | Fake Relationships | Miscommunication | Forced Proximity | Found Family |
➢ Warnings: Crude Humor | Suicidal Jokes/Ideation | Drinking | Smoking |
➢Summary:
You work the night shift at a local dog kennel for boarding and daycare. You love the peace and quiet of the shift, but just when you get comfortable- a few break-ins happen around town, and upper management decides to place your quiet, brooding, shift lead on the schedule with you.
☽✧ Chapter Links ✧☾
1☾ A Change Of Plans
2☾ Hesitancy
3☾ Musically In Tune
4☾ Fun & Games
5☾
➢ Links:
✦ Fics Masterlist ✦ AO3 ✦ Wattpad ✦ Art ✦
✦ Requests Masterpost & Guidelines ✦ Request Trope List ✦ 。:゜:.*∵✧∵ ☽ Submit A Request ☾∵✧∵*:.゜: 。
#The Night Shift Masterpost#TNS#corpse husband#corpse husband fanfiction#corpse husband x reader#corpse x reader#corpse husband x y/n#corpse x y/n#romance#slow burn#coworkers to lovers#fanfiction#fanfic#mutual pining#fluff#angst#The Night Shift#Ghostie Howls#J Writes
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A Side Blog for AO3 Updates
As the title suggests, this is just a side blog for my AO3 updates. Right now, I'm hyperfixating on Good Omens - specifically, Ineffable Bureaucracy - but I'll share links to any stories here. You can find me on AO3 here (newer account - I've abandoned my older account because reasons).
I can't follow anyone from this account because it's a side blog. Feel free to follow for AO3 updates, though. If you want to follow me on my main account, feel free to do so!
Current icon is by Possum Mood.
Ineffable Bureaucracy Fics:
Stress Relief: A quickie, a nooner, afternoon delight: humans have a lot of different names for it. Even celestials need some stress relief during their work day, and Beelzebub is more than happy to oblige.
Coming Home (A Stress Relief Sequel): After Beelzebub surprised him earlier that day, Gabriel was determined to return the favor - and then some. Unfortunately, fear and anxiety threaten to derail his plans.
May I Have This Dance?: Ineffable Bureaucracy Week, Day One: Dancing. I'm late to the party so I couldn't save it to the collection, but I still wanted to give the prompts a try. Gabriel asks Beelzebub if they'll dance with him. Sweet and fluffy. Inspired by fanart I saw on Tumblr; see notes for additional info.
#j writes#pinned post#ineffable bureaucracy#boxfly#gabriel x beelzebub#beelzebub x gabriel#beelzebub#beelzebub good omens#lord beelzebub#archangel gabriel#archangel fucking gabriel#gabriel good omens
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In their student days, Kaveh asked Alhaitham to marry him if they both ended up still single at thirty. Years into the future, with Alhaitham's thirtieth birthday fast approaching, Kaveh learns that he's being held to his word. It's time to panic.
-
"I really didn't think I'd still be single by the time you turned thirty," he grumbles.
"I did," Alhaitham says easily. "Your tendency for endless self-sabotage extends to your love life. Marrying me really seems like your most viable option at this point."
Kaveh considers, not for the first time, throwing something at him.
#j writes#genshin#genshin impact#haikaveh#look at this i'm posting a fic it's only been like a year since that last happened#but anyway i'm having so much fun writing these two
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Wrote a little something based on @stiffyck desert alien Scar au!! It does include some hermitshipping so be warned if that’s not your thing :)
================================
Nothing had even really been going on, when it happened for the first time. There hadn’t been any sort of grand moment beforehand, or big event to attribute it to. It snuck up on them, quiet and unobtrusive and yet bigger than anything that could be put into words.
Grian had been procrastinating building a certain part of his base, instead following Scar around as he terraformed around his half-built castle. It was getting to be early evening, the sun rays growing longer and the air bringing a slight chill. Scar seemed to feel it more than Grian did, if the small shivers every now and then were any indication. But then, Grian knew Scar wasn’t… from around here. Or from anywhere he knew. Curiosity had always burned low in his stomach about the topic, but he’d sat with it for so long that it didn’t feel obtrusive, anymore. Either Scar would tell him, one day, or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t Grian’s job to know.
Still, it was fun to think about. He’d be lying if he pretended he’d never stared a little too long. It was just…fascinating, was all it was. There was no other reason he would be staring, no other reason his face would get a little warm, sometimes. Anyone would find it hard to look away from Scar, he was sure. The hard scales covering his shoulders and circling around his eyes and on top of his ears, the sandy color to his skin, the fur peeking out between scales — it was just a tiny bit mesmerizing.
Apart from that, Scar probably had one of the most genuinely happy smiles Grian had ever seen. So what if his stomach jumped whenever he saw it? Anyone would feel compelled to smile back.
Grian sighed dramatically, leaning back on his hands and craning his head to squint at the sky. The faint beginnings of stars were starting to appear against the darkening blue, and Grian looked back over at Scar, who was still placing and replacing leaf blocks. His movements were noticeably more sluggish than they’d been a few hours ago, and Grian frowned a little.
“It’s getting dark,” Grian said, casual as he could manage, and Scar jumped, glancing over at him and then up at the sky. (Grian always got a strange feeling in his stomach, when Scar looked up at the stars. Like he was watching something he wasn’t supposed to see.)
“But the sun just came up!” Scar said, scowling slightly as he turned back to Grian. “The days are so short.”
Grian raised an eyebrow. “They’re the same as they’ve always been, buddy.” He gestured at the large area Scar has managed to terraform. “You’ve got to come up for air, sometimes.”
“I can hold my breath for days,” Scar grumbled, making his way over to where Grian was standing surrounded by shulkerboxes, and he seemed to register something. “What have you— You’ve been here this whole time?”
“What? Can’t a man hang out with his— with his best pal while he builds his lawn?”
“You just didn’t want to build the back of your base,” Scar said with a cheeky smile, and Grian huffed and looked away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grian said, turning back. “My base is perfectly— Hold on.”
Grian lurched forward towards Scar, eyes fixed on the side of his head, because— because he could’ve sworn he’d seen—
“Wait a minute, do— Was that—“ Grian stopped and squinted as Scar’s top set of ears descended back onto his bottom set, because he had two sets of ears. He had four. Except not anymore, now that they’d blended back into one. “You’ve got ears!”
Scar backed up with his hands out in front of him, laughing nervously and looking to the side. “Well— We all have ears, G, I don’t know what—“
“You have four,” Grian insisted, shaking his head in awe, wings puffing up in excitement. “Scar, that’s— that’s cool.”
Slowly, Scar hands lowered, and his head tilted a bit. “…It is?”
“Yeah,” Grian said, fairly certain he was vibrating in place, and something about Scar seemed to soften. He looked almost embarrassed.
“They don’t usually show,” Scar said slowly, hand raising to touch the ear that was still visible. “They’re more… They’re softer than the other ones. Not really protected, you know?”
“Can I see?” Grian asked carefully. His heart was trying to break past his rib cage.
Scar hesitated, and glanced over at where Jellie was curled up on a shulkerbox, watching serenely. Eventually, she yawned. Scar laughed a little, seeming a bit shaky, and he turned back to Grian with a small smile.
“Sure,” Scar said, hands fidgeting inside his pants pockets. “I mean, they’re not super exciting or anything.”
“Only if you want to,” Grian said, shuffling forward a half step. He shot him a playful grin. “But you should know that I’m invested now.”
Scar laughed, almost like it’d been startled out of him, and then he sighed through a smile. “You’re horrible.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Remind me why you spent the whole day here instead of your base?”
Grian slapped him on the arm with a huff of indignation, and Scar starting shaking with laughter, scales on his face shifting as his eyes squinted in joy. Grian felt a little breathless, all of the sudden, and looking at Scar’s ears didn’t help; they were separate again.
Scar’s laughter faded away as he realized what had happened, and his ears twitched, but didn’t fold back together.
“Can you control them?” Grian asked, stepping to the side to get a better look.
“Usually,” Scar grumbled playfully, glaring to the side as if he could see them. “But sometimes it happens when I’m… When I’m comfortable, I guess. I don’t think about it.”
“You trust me,” Grian said softly, a quiet realization that hit his chest like a freight train.
Scar smiled, a little shy at the edges. “Of course.”
The lower set of ears were just barely smaller, and covered in the softest looking fur Grian had ever seen. His fingers twitched, and he fidgeted with his sweater to put the energy somewhere else.
“Do you mind if…” Grian started, and then hesitated, eyebrows furrowing. Scar made a questioning noise, and Grian finished. “Can I touch them?”
Scar blinked, and the skin around the scales on his cheeks got a little darker. His tail swished in short movements in the dirt behind him, and Grian began to worry he’d said something wrong.
“It’s fine if it’s a no,” Grian rushed out, a bit flustered himself now. “I just— I don’t know why I asked that.”
“No no, it’s fine, I promise,” Scar said, voice a little higher than usual, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t mind, just…” Scar trailed off, eyebrows furrowing in thought, and Grian gave him a minute to think.
“Where I come from,” Scar started slowly, not quite looking at him, “when someone touches the lower ears, it means that they’re— like, a very close friend.” Scar cracked an awkward smile. “Or a very close friend, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” Grian said. “Sorry, I—“
“I said I didn’t mind,” Scar interrupted quickly, hands in his pockets again, face just slightly tucked down into his scarf, and Grian realized he was flustered. “So, if you don’t mind…”
A painfully soft smile crossed the avian's face — so embarrassingly fond that Mumbo would make fun of him for weeks if he’d seen it.
“I don’t mind,” Grian said, gently touching Scar’s wrist before reaching towards his ears, giving him time to pull away. Instead, Scar just stared back at him, seeming a little bit awed.
Carefully, Grian brushed his fingers over the top of the ears, and grinned when Scar’s eyelids immediately started to droop. The fur was soft, and thicker than he’d anticipated. Happy avian noises built up in Grian’s chest, feathers fluffing up along his wings as he gently rubbed Scar’s ears.
“Alright?” Grian asked quietly, and Scar just nodded rapidly. Grian laughed and kept at it.
Minutes or hours later, a low, rhythmic rumble started up in Scar’s throat, unlike anything Grian had heard. It was a bit like purring, if purring somehow included every pitch of sound at once. Maybe it should have been grating, but it was more like music than anything else. Like a built-in lullaby. Grian felt all the tension he’d been carrying from the week melt away, and he exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes, Scar was watching him.
They’d sat down on the ground at some point in the past few minutes, Scar’s hands wrapped loosely around Grian’s arms to keep them steady as he rubbed his ears in small circles.
“Hi,” Grian said softly, mouth lifting at the corners without his say-so.
“Well hello there,” Scar responded, equally soft, still somehow making those noises while he talked.
Grian glanced over Scar’s shoulder and grinned as he watched Jellie hop up on the shulkerbox at Scar’s back. She immediately set to licking at Scar’s lower ears, and Scar sighed. Grian giggled quietly and finally let his hands fall back into his lap, letting Jellie take over.
“She does this a lot?” Grian asked, voice full of amusement.
“Oh, constantly,” Scar said, absentmindedly reaching back to pet her. “She thinks I don’t do a good enough job grooming myself and she has to do it for me.”
Grian laughed, leaning back and enjoying the show; Scar grumpily sitting still while his cat(?) licked the fur on his ears.
“She’s doing pretty good,” Grian chuckled, and Scar huffed, though he was starting to smile.
“She’s actually older than I am,” Scar said, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say, and Grian blinked. “I think she thinks I’m her child.”
“…She’s from where you’re from,” Grian said eventually, and Scar just hummed.
“Scar,” Grian started, because it finally felt like the time to ask. “Where are you from?”
Scar looked at him for a long while, seeming to study his face. Then he looked up, tilting his head and squinting at the sky. Grian was about to take the evasion of his question as an answer until Scar finally made a noise and pointed. At the sky.
“Somewhere around there, I think,” Scar said, still looking at the stars. “It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure I remember.”
Grian followed Scar’s finger to find a patch of night sky, saturated with stars. It felt like it should have been a big revelation, but instead it simply slid into place. Like a puzzle piece he hadn’t been aware was missing. Somehow, it made sense.
“That explains a lot,” Grian said finally, and Scar burst out giggling, scaled tail thumping against the ground and all four ears twitching against his head. Jellie huffed and sat down to groom herself, and— Had she always had that extra set of legs?
“Thank you,” Scar said when he had finally stopped laughing, and he grabbed Grian’s hand in a gentle hold.
“For what?” Grian asked, a bit of warmth rising to his cheeks.
Scar just shrugged, a happy little grin on his face. “You don’t make me want to hide.”
Lost for words, Grian squeezed Scar’s hand, and together they watched the stars.
#anyway hope you like it !!!!#goodtimeswithscar#gtws#grian#scarian#hermitshipping#desert duo#j writes
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"...Is it over?"
Fires, screaming and blood covered every wall and every floor in the City of Pride: More so than usual, that is. In a dark and dingy alleyway, a trash can's lid was removed, a single, large, eye shining out of it. It didn't seem like an organic eye, rather, it seemed a projection or simplified drawing of one come to life. The eye looked around, and saw Exorcists flying up to the sky. He waited for what he believed to be the last one to leave, before speaking up.
"I believe so."
The Trash Can shook and rattled, before all of it's contents were blasted out of it, two figures rising higher than any of the profane, inanimate contents. They continued rising, seeming to fly, until they reached the top of a rather tall building. The two men let go of each other, both shaking off all the trash covering them.
"Woohoo! That's 19 Exterminations survived, and not a single scratch from any of them! Take that, ya bitches!" The smaller one spoke first, raising his fists in the air and flipping off the already departed Exorcists. He seemed rather small, with claws and talons, his red skin singed and burnt all over, especially his torso. His hair was a jet black, and seemed to jut out from his head all the way to his back, like spines or quills.
"If we're counting, this should be One Thousand, Seven Hundred, Eighty... something, for me, if I am counting correctly. The Cyclops who was at least 3 times the other's size tilted his head in thought, trying to remember how many years it had been exactly. his body was proportioned to that of your average male, but extremely emaciated, it was is limbs that made him so large. The were long and stretched out, seemingly made of a jet black tar like substance, and without a proper bone structure to support them. His head was caved into empty void, where his glowing white eye resided.
"Despite going through so few, you are still rather unafraid of exterminations, Viktor. Do you, ahem, ride the funky thrills of life and death?"
"No, and you still need to work on your slang." The small one, Viktor, lightly punched the Cyclop's leg, smiling as he looked up. "It's cuz I trust your lanky ass to protect and hide me, duh. Now, let's assess damages..." Viktor walked to the edge of the building, looking far into the distance. "...Shit, Alex, you might wanna take a look at this." Alexander, the Lanky Cyclops, walked over in a few steps, leaning down and placing his own head upon Viktor's. "...Oh dear, it seems my keep may have been hit. I hope they didn't destroy too much, I had just bought some of the more expensive items in Valentino's Must See Collection."
"Eh, it's no big deal. I'll have one of the goons buy more copies if they did get destroyed. Wanna go loot a buffet?"
Alexander grabbed Viktor, placing him on his back before jumping off of the building. "I don't why not."
"Fuck yeah! Make sure to keep all the sugar buns in a baggie, I wanna keep that shit for later!"
@selfshipping-shapeshifter Cuz I know you'd wanna read somethin' with these two :3
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"Schau hin, Adam!"
tw: captivity
---------
Das dumpfe Vibrieren reißt Adam aus seinen Gedanken. Anrufer anonym. Er muss nicht lange überlegen.
"Hallo?", Adam klingt erstaunlich gefasst.
"Hallo Adam, wie schön deine Stimme zu hören. Herr Hölzer und ich waren schon besorgt..." er hasst diese Stimme und als Leos Name fällt, vergisst er sich.
"WO IST LEO? ICH SCHWÖRE DIR, DU WICHSER, WENN IHM WAS PASSIERT, DANN...", Adam springt auf ,haut mit einer Hand auf den Tisch, dass Esther und Pia unfreiwillig zusammenzucken.
"Adam, Junge, beruhige dich! Schau aufs Display", es folgt eine Pause, die sich wie eine Ewigkeit anfühlt. Es raschelt und knackst auf der anderen Seite des Smartphones. Das Bild ist zunächst unscharf und wacklig. Als Adam klarer sieht und die schemenhafte Gestalt deutlicher zu erkennen ist, kann sich sein Körper zwischen dem Gefühl von Übelkeit und unbändiger Wut nicht entscheiden.
"Schau hin, Adam. Schau genau hin", Boris spricht ganz ruhig. Adam hat ihn noch nie wirklich schreien gehört. Als Kind hatte Boris ruhige Stimme ihn immer beruhigt. Jetzt löst sie einen kalten Schauer aus, der unangenehm durch seine Glieder fährt. Im Hintergrund rücken Pia und Esther näher. Adam soll wissen, sie sind hier. Sie sind bei ihm. Sie lassen ihn nicht allein. Adam dreht sich aber nicht zu ihnen um, kann den Blick nicht von Leo abwenden. Jener hat den Kopf gesenkt und sitzt gefesselt auf klapprigen Stuhl. Leo ist ein starker Mann, trainiert und wahrscheinlich der fitteste Mensch des Saarlandes. Ach was, von ganz Deutschland. Doch auf diesem Stuhl, in irgendeinem dunklen und kalten Raum, mit einem Knebel seiner warmen Stimme beraubt und offenbar bewusstlos, wirkt Leo nur noch wie ein Schatten seiner selbst. In sich zusammengefallen und allein. Innerlich schreit Adam Leo entgegen, dass er doch endlich die Augen öffnen soll. Adam will die Kraft in Leos Augen sehen. Dessen Mut und Trotz. < Ich würde mir Dir bis ans Ende der Welt gehen.> Erinnerungen kommen hoch. Adam schluckt den Kloß in seinem Hals herunter, unterbindet ein aufkommendes Beben seines Körpers und schließt die Augen. Leo. Ende der welt. Das kann nicht das Ende sein. So sollte ihr Ende nicht sein. Ein dunkler Schatten legt sich über sein Gesicht. Das Zittern hört auf.
"Was willst du?", er ist stolz auf seine klaren Worte. Er muss ruhig bleiben. Aus dem Augenwinkel nimmt er wahr, wie Esther hastig Notizen macht. Vielleicht notiert sie Auffälligkeiten im Video. Pia hingegen ist an seiner Seite. Mittlerweile steht sie so nah bei ihm, dass ihre Arme sich berühren. Ihr besorgter Blick gilt ebenfalls Leo.
"Das weißt du. Es liegt bei Dir, wie lange Herr Hölzer mein Gast ist", Boris ist zu hören, richtet die Handykamera aber weiterhin auf Leo. Da. Der Brustkorb hebt und senkt sich. Immerhin das, denkt Adam.
"Ich weiß nichts. Erkläre es mir", dieses Spiel ist gefährlich. Macht es gerade Sinn auf Zeit zu spielen? Jetzt nur nicht unsicher werden. Fehler darf sich Adam nicht erlauben.
Fehlverhalten wird bestraft und das beweist Boris ihm. Pia zuckt neben im zusammen. Ihre Augen kleben am Display. Leos Kopf bewegt sich auf unnatürlich Weise. Barns hat Leo mit einer Hand am Hinterkopf gepackt und dreht diesen zur Kamera. Adam vernimmt ein ächzendes, aber ersticktes Stöhnen. War das Leo?
Adam will schreien. Boris soll seine Dreckshände bei sich lassen. Wieder beginnt dieses Beben in seinem Körper. Dann ist auf einmal Esther da. Ihre Hand fasst ihn bestimmt am Oberarm. Sie presst die Lippen aufeinander und schüttelt den Kopf. Normalerweise würde er diese Berührung nicht zulassen. Normalerweise würde er Esther jetzt anfahren. Das hier ist aber nicht normalerweise. Natürlich hat Esther recht. Am Ende würde Adam es nur schlummer machen.
"Folgendes", Boris spricht ruhig weiter, es ist zum Kotzen, "Ich warte nun darauf, dass Herr Hölzer wieder zu sich kommt. Bis ich wieder von Dir höre,werden DEIN Leo und ich uns besser kennenlernen."
Gerade wollte Adam alle Vorsätzen über Bord werfen und sich am reichhaltigen Repertoire von bekannten Flüchen bedienen, da bemerkte er etwas. Abermals blieb ihm die Luft weg und er traute sich nicht zu atmen.
Leos geschlossene Augen zuckten. Gleich würde er die Augen öffnen. Leo. Adam verspürte den Drang das Smartphone an sich zu drücken. Vielleicht würde es ihm gelingen hineinzukriechen. Zu Leo.
"Lass uns nicht zu lange warten", hören sie Boris sagen. Dann brach das Gespräch ab. Gerade als Leos Lider begonnen hatten sichbZräge zu öffnen
Adam steht stumm mit geweiteten Augen da. Seine Hand hält das Smartphone weiter krampfhaft fest. Er vergisst fast zu atmen. Ein Glück sind Pia und Esther noch bei ihm. Ein rechts, eine links. Sie hindern Adams zittirgen Körper daran aufzugeben. Er wird es ihnen noch danken, wenn Lep wieder bei ihnen ist.
Pias Worte hört er nicht. Rauschen. Mehr ist da nicht. Nur ein unangenehmes Rauschen.
-- to be continued --
Bzw hoffe ich, dass ich das bildlich so umsetzwn kann, wie ich es im Kopf habe. Ich bin eine schrecklicke Dramaqueen. Und wahrscheinlich stecken da nicht nur meine eigenen Ideen drin, sondern auch unzählige Anspielungen auf grandiose Stories die ich bisher gelesen habe ID Es war auch nie geplant, dass ich dazu etwas schreibe. Ich will das ja eigentlich zeichnen. Das storyboard ist komplett in meinem Kopf.
#j talks#j writes#spatort short comic#dialogue#das ist eigentlich fast die komplette Handlung meines geplanten short comics#spatort#tatort saarbrücken#leo hölzer#adam schürk#esther baumann#pia heinrich#boris barns#my writing#fanfiction#spatort fanfiction#tw: captivity#das einzige was hier nicht steht... ist die befreiung#das verdiente happy end#no beta#NORMALERWEISE SCHREIBE ICH NICHT#DAS HIER IST ABER NICHT NORMALERWEISE#german#german stuff#A03 potential?#short ff#so many feelings#nervous#short story#kidnapped leo
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Diary Entries
Short Summary: A look into Riddle's diary, along with the scratched out fantasies he hides in his heart.
A/N: Hello everyone!! apologies for the absence, but school and writers block have been hitting hard LOL. Here's a little blurb I wrote to try and get out of this writing funk, hope y'all enjoy!!! and thank you very much to those who have followed and showed their love on my other posts, I appreciate it very much <3
C/W: Probably ooc Riddle, gets a little suggestive towards the end, but nothing explicit
March 9th, XXXX
Today went as any other day usually goes. Class went by as normal, and of course I passed my test, as expected. I saw the prefect in passing in the hallways at lunch, and they were accompanied by Ace, Deuce and Grim. They looked tired... have they been eating well? I gave them an invite to our next unbirthday party, which will be happening the day after tomorrow. Trey is making some tarts in preparation, which I am looking forward to eating. I hope they like Trey's tarts just as much as I do, they are very delicious. Their hair was a bit more ruffled than usual, perhaps they fell asleep in class? I should ask them if they are sleeping well. I should remind them that they have a safe place in Heartslabyul if they ever need time to rest. The Heartslabyul uniform would suit them perfectly... I think my housewarden uniform would look even more beautiful on them; They would look regal and breathtaking, just like the Queen of Hearts. I wish I could see it on them, see them command a room and make it silent with a single look, watch them bring justice upon a rule breaker without even sparing a glance. I wish I could hold them closer, only if they allowed me to. To kiss their hand, to kneel infant of them if they so desire. I would lay at their feet and breathe my last breath in exchange for just the briefest moment of their lips brushing against mine, the hands cupping my cheeks going down, feeling my pulse, closing against my neck for a brief moment. Going lower and lower until-
[The rest of the paper is covered in ink, as if someone had knocked over the bottle in a frenzy. There is a small spot of paper where the ink didn't spill. A small sentence is written on it with shaky penmanship.]
I feel hot.
#j writes#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#riddle x reader#riddle rosehearts#riddle twst#twst#omg hi everyone I have crawled out of my hole#I missed writing DX#thyme for the sweet reblogs on my other posts#I really do appreciate it <33333
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Have to remember it's 3 hours of AEW tonight. At least staying up later gives me more time to do some writing.
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THank you so much to @ellena-asg for this prompt. Their Pokemon number was Charizard. I took this in what I thought was a fun direction. Making it about a Shiny Charizard.
Like i said before I pulled A LOT of the technical stuff, (how pokeballs work and how Charizard flies, etc) out of the air or just made it up lol. I hope that everyone enjoys the story. This story has no connection to to my future Pokemon Fusion. Thought it might be the start of an entirely different one. I don't know yet. For now it is just a stand alone story.
Pics of the featured Pokemon, Charizard and Blissey, can be found at the end of the story.
Steve was wading through the shallows after his morning swim, water sloshing around his hips, when he spotted something glinting in the sun on the beach ahead of him. Quickening his pace, such as he could, Steve sped up. He wanted to get to the item before the water and sand buried it once more. Steve was always careful to keep his beach free of debris tossed up by the sea especially that made of metal and glass.
His safety aside he frequently opened his private beach to Danny during his visitation with Grace and Charlie. He wouldn’t want them, or their pokes’ injured. Finally, a bit out of breath from jogging through the sand and surf, Steve managed to reach the spot where the light had been reflecting. Digging through the sand he was surprised to pull up an iron-gray pokeball. He couldn’t tell if the color had been worn away by the sand and seawater or if that was just how the ball was. When he clicked the ring it expanded, slowly, with a slight whine.
As he went to press the switch though he hesitated. The ball appeared to be old and disused. Like every sailor, SEAL, and seafarer he knew ocean water could prematurely age things. There was a chance that the ball had only been in the water for a few months or even weeks. Most pokes’, after they were caught, weren’t too bad around strangers but there was always a chance that, if it was in use, the pokémon could lash out at him.
It wasn’t like he had a poke' of his own to protect him, and he didn’t want to have to shoot it or something. Steve headed inside, thumb running over and over the smooth surface of the ball, as he debated opening it or leaving it closed.
On the lanai, he set the ball down and shucked his trunks. He dunked the garment in a bucket of fresh water a few times before wringing them out and laying them across the back of the chair to dry. With one last glance at the ball, he headed inside for a shower, reasoning it would still be there when he came back.
Once cleaned up and dressed for the day, and fortified with a cup of coffee in hand, he came back out and took up the ball. While showering he had decided it was best to see if the ball was even in use before wasting time taking it to the Pokemon Center. Chances were the thing was empty, trash improperly disposed of, and the entire “dilemma” was a moot point. The second greatest chance was that it was a smaller or weaker pokemon, something that wouldn’t pose much of a threat. Trainers, good or bad, tended to keep a better on their stronger or rarer species. On the off chance that it was something large or aggressive, Steve had his sidearm at his hip. He hoped a few air-shots would cow the possibly restless poke' long enough for him to trigger the Return Command.
Setting his mostly empty coffee mug on the chair arm Steve took the ball and moved further into his yard. At the line where the grass met sand, one hand hovering over his weapon, Steve tapped the button.
And nothing happened. Tapping it again, harder this time, Steve heard a faith whir from the ball but it still refused to open. After inspecting the seam and hinge for damage, and finding none, Steve tried a third time. Aside from the whir, a bit louder this time, nothing happened.
Stuffing the ball in one of his cargo pockets Steve headed back to the house, silently chiding himself. Of course the ball wasn’t going to open. After being submerged in water for who knows how long, and probably being banged around as well, the mechanics were probably damaged. He just hoped that if it was active that the poke’ inside was safe.
‘Honestly,’ Steve thought as he snatched up his mug and headed for the kitchen, ‘Shouldn’t have tried to open it anyway. Should have taken it straight to the Center. Bad etiquette to try and open another trainer's ball.’
‘You’re not a trainer.’ A nagging voice in the back of his skull whispered back as he washed out his mug.
Gritting his teeth against the sour feeling in his stomach Steve pushed the thought away. It was stupid to dwell on old issues, pointless issues. Setting his mug in the strainer to dry Steve headed out; grabbing his phone and keys as he went.
He’d drop the ball at the Center on his way in and that would be the end of it. If it was active they’d be able to find the trainer, eventually, and could take care of its inhabitant until they did.
***
Steve paced through the small waiting area while checking his watch. Again. He had arrived at the Center an hour ago and handed off the ball to the waiting Joy. She took one look at it, snatched it up, and ran to the back room, admonishing him to have a seat as she went. Steve had waited at the counter, confused, before turning to find a fuzzy pink Blissey standing behind him.
“Bli bli.” She had intoned before grabbing his wrist in an iron grip and dragging him into the waiting area.
“I was going to sit down, on my own.” Steve had told her as she shoved him onto a chair.
Steve had texted Danny a sitrep and told him to hold down the fort. At half an hour he had gone to the counter to ask for an update only to find the Blissey there. After forty minutes he decided to leave his contact info and head to the office. He had left the note with the Blissey but when he tried to leave she had, in the blink of an eye, appeared to block his exit.
“I need to work, just have the nurse call me and I’ll explain everything.” Steve had told her but the Blissey’s face clouded over and her eyes narrowed as she pointed to the waiting area. Not willing to be taken down by a giant walking egg Steve had gone back to the waiting room.
At forty-five minutes he started to get nervous and started pacing. He was worried he had screwed up when he tried to open the ball. He hadn’t even held a Pokeball in over a decade. Glancing at the counter again, only to find it still manned by Blissey, Steve dropped back onto his chair.
“Bli blee!” Steve jerked as Blissey once more showed up out of nowhere, if he hadn’t known better he’d swear she was Teleporting. Before he could say or do anything she once more grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him behind her.
Knowing it was pointless to try and argue with the pokémon he let himself be dragged into the backroom. The pair washed up in a dim room filled with enough computer equipment to make Chin weak in the knees, as well as a large poke-incubator. The dark-haired Joy that had taken the Pokeball stood nearby with a man in a Jennies' Uniform.
“Commander McGarrett,” The man held out his hand as he spoke, “I’m officer Makoa, and I’m with the Jennies. This is Kailani, one of the Joys here. Can you explain how came by this Pokeball?” Officer Makoa indicated the Nurse briefly before turning to the Pokeball.
Steve’s hackles immediately went up. Officer Makoa’s tone was accusatory and suspicious.
“I was swimming this morning and saw it half buried in the sand on the beach. Why?” Steve drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. Danny might have called this posturing but he was getting tired of the runaround.
“Where were you swimming, which beach; were there any others?” The Officer asked, pulling out a small notepad and pen.
“I was swimming at home. It’s my private beach, I’m not telling you my address, and no there weren’t any others. And I’m not answering any more questions until you tell me what the hell is going on here.” Steve stepped into Makoa’s space, towering over the shorter man. Makao, to his credit, didn’t look scared despite stepping back a pace.
“Commander McGarrett, “ The Joy spoke up from where she was hooking the Pokeball up to…something, “I’m Kailani, a Joy here at the pokémon center. This isn’t a standard pokeball. This is an old Rocketball.”
“A Rocketball, Team Rocket? They’ve been defunct for over a decade.” Steve stepped around Makoa to the nurses’ side.
“Indeed, given the condition of the ball, I’d say that it’s been at sea for several years. In the last years of Team Rocket’s influence, they tried to relocate to Hawaii. They weren’t successful. I imagine this ball was on one of the freighters they used for smuggling.”
“Can you tell if it is active,” Steve asked, attention now completely on Kailani and the Pokeball, “I tried to open it, see if anything was inside, but it wouldn’t budge.”
Kailani, now typing on a laptop, nodded at Steve before gesturing to the ball.
“It’s active yes. You couldn’t open it because this particular ball is what used to be called a Lock Ball. Lock Balls were designed to fit on a belt equipped with fingerprint recognition. Removing the ball without scanning the owners' print locked it, making it unusable.” As Kailani spoke the ring around the ball switch started to flash red.
“Does that mean you can’t open it? The poke’ is trapped inside?” Steve questioned, stepping closer to the apparatus the ball was resting in.
“Of course I can,” Kailani replied with a laugh, “Fingerprint tech was in its infancy when this Ball was built. It’s easily bypassed with today’s tech. I do need your help, however.” At that, she moved away from the laptop and held out what Steve recognized as a fingerprint scanner. Steve just raised his eyebrows.
“To open the balls system I need to reprogram it to a new trainer. Standard procedure, in recovering a pokémon from a criminal organization, is to transfer it to law enforcement for assessment and treatment.” Kailani explained but Steve shook his head.
“I’ve had exactly one pokemon in my life, twenty years ago. I’m not a trainer. You should get someone else to do it.” Steve tried to step back but Officer Makoa spoke up.
“Sadly there isn’t time Mr. McGarrett. Joy Kailani was explaining just before you came in, the Ball is starting to fail. The Pokemon inside needs to be transferred to a new trainer's biometrics as soon as possible. I have a full team registered to me and can’t take another, Joy Kailani isn’t law enforcement. It has to be you.”
“Don’t worry Commander McGarrett,” Kailani spoke softly while glaring at Officer Makoa, “It is only a temporary transfer. If you wish once the Pokemon is stable it can be transferred to another handler. For now though, to open the ball, I need to place it under your care. You’re still listed as a trainer in the Hawaiian Database.” Kailani once more held out the scanner pad. With a deep breath, Steve pressed his thumb to it.
The scanner glowed green for a moment while it took down his information. Once it was done the laptop pinged and Kailani set it aside to go back to typing away. Trying to ignore the pit in his stomach at having a poke’ registered to him Steve could only watch the ball. The indicator ring continued to lazily flash red. As he watched Steve realized that the flashes were slowing down and becoming dimmer and his worry increased. This time for the poke’ inside. Before he could say anything though the flashing stopped altogether and the ring turned a pale blue.
“I’ve overlaid your fingerprint on the balls lock system,” Kaillani spoke as she moved to Steve’s side, handing him a white pokeball with a red seam. A Premier Ball, “The Lock Ball’s systems are failing so you need to initiate a Ball Transfer. I’ve programmed this one with your old trainer ID. Once transferred the pokémon should behave like a traded pokémon.”
“Should,” Steve questioned as he took the ball from her, “You don’t sound very confident.” Kailani just shrugged.
“I can’t be one hundred percent certain Commander. We have no way of knowing what kind of pokémon is in the ball, or how long it had been with its previous trainer. There are a lot of factors that we just can’t account for. The best outcome, the pokémon inside will be obedient to you, to an undeterminable extent. Worst case, it rebels. We just don’t know. Won’t know until we know.” With that Kailani motioned to the Lock Ball.
Ignoring the slight shaking in his hand Steve held up the Premier Ball until its switch pressed into the Lock Balls switch. The two balls popped open and, in a flash of pale blue light, the pokémon’s energy form transferred from the Lock Ball to the Premier ball.
“Now what?” Steve asked quietly. The weight of the pokeball hadn’t changed, of course, but it felt heavier in his hand.
“Now we see what kind of condition the pokémon is in. Just put the ball in the incubator.” Kailani directed quietly.
Steve followed her to the incubator and did as instructed. Kalani typed some commands into the incubators keypad and the Premier Ball shook a moment before opening. As the red light of the pokémon’s energy form took shape Steve felt his jaw drop.
“Is that…” Officer Makoa started, voice trailing off into silence.
“A black Charizard.” Steve finished as the hulking fire type, sleeping, completely took form.
###
“I swear to god you spit another fireball at me, you overgrown fucking bottle rocket, and I’ll shove this extinguisher down your throat,” Steve growled, brandishing the single-hand extinguisher at the pissed-off Charizard.
Charizard was sat on his beach, tail held high away from the surf, glaring at him over his scarred muzzle. It had been just over two weeks since he’d brought the Pokemon home. For the first few days, it had been alright. Charizard, who had been trapped in his ball for at least five years but likely more, had still been recovering from hibernation sickness. He’d been lethargic, but compliant. He’d rapidly regained his energy though and had since been a pain in Steve’s ass. In addition to hibernation sickness, Charizard needed physical therapy to get his strength back. Especially his flight muscles. Being in hibernation for so long left them too weak to lift him.
While he may have needed the treatment the Pokemon refused to listen to Steve every time he tried to guide him through the exercises. Every day Charizard’s temper had gotten worse and worse, and Steve’s patience had worn thinner and thinner. Now they were here, a stalemate in his backyard, with Steve either dodging or extinguishing fireballs shot at him every time he tried to get close to him.
“Listen,” Steve pitched his voice soft and cajoling, “You may not like the exercises, but you need them. If you’d just listen to me…” Steve took a few cautious steps forward as he spoke…and had to quickly duck to dodge a stream of fire shot at him.
“You son of…overgrown…giant pain in…fucking sparkler.” Steve spat out half a dozen half-curses as he lay in the sand. Charizard wouldn’t try to hurt him, he was pretty sure, so he let himself lay on the ground and regain his composure.
Once he was calmed down Steve got to his feet. Charizard was looking out at the ocean, his back turned to Steve. Not for the first time, Steve let his eyes scour over the pokémon. He had thin white scars scattered all around his black hide. Joy Kailani hadn’t been able to determine if they were left over from past battles…or something more sinister.
Despite being thieves and criminals Team Rocket had been known, for the most part, to treat their pokémon fairly well. Pokémon Cruelty was one of the few things most members hadn’t been guilty of. Steve wasn’t so sure though. Some of the scars were jagged zigzags, others perfectly straight. Steve supposed they could have gone either way…but something in his gut didn’t sit right when he looked at them.
Pokemon were tough creatures, tougher than normal animals, and rarely scarred. Either from battles or abuse. They weren’t questions Steve could answer today. Maybe not ever. With a sigh, he plucked the Premier ball off his belt and pointed it at Charizard.
“Alright, asshole. I’m done with you for now. Return.” In a flash, Charizard returned to his ball, the only command he would follow. Once Charizard was safely tucked away on his belt Steve headed for the house. Only to find Danny standing on the lanai, two beers held by the necks in one hand and another single-hand extinguisher in the other.
“How long have you been standing there?” Embarrassment crept up Steve’s spine as he spoke. He had been lucky thus far in that Danny, an accomplished League-level Trainer, hadn’t seen his floundering attempts to work with Charizard.
“I got here around ‘candy ass roman candle’,” Danny replied, smiling slightly as he held out the beers.
“So you pretty much got the whole show.” Steve sighed, taking the beer and dropping into one of the chairs.
“If you say so, babe,” Danny replied, taking the other chair.
“What the fuck am I doing Danny? I’m not a trainer. What in the hell made me think I could rehab a fucking Charizard?” Steve groaned, dropping his head into his hands, beer forgotten on the ground by his feet.
“Charizards are considered one of the more stubborn fire types. But I have it good authority that you are far more stubborn than they are.” Danny replied quietly and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. Steve looked up from his hands to, indeed, find Danny smiling at him.
“I’m serious Danny, I don’t know what I’m doing here. What do I do?” Steve didn’t expect Danny to have the answers but he didn’t know what else to do.
“I’m gonna guess that the Center gave you all the technical information you needed. But left out the interpersonal info?” Danny guessed and Steve nodded.
“They set me up with a Joy that specializes in rehabbing pokémon after extended hibernation, and another one for pokémon recovered from criminal organizations. Both are the mainland and neither has time to come out here for at least two months.” Steve replied, finally cracking open his beer.
“Have they been able to find out anything about him?” Danny asked, nodding at the ball on Steve’s belt.
“The Jennies have been scouring their databases but they haven’t found any reports of a stolen shiny in the Charizard line. They figure that he was either a lucky find in the wild or part of one of their breeding programs. The data they pulled off the Lock Ball was pretty much useless, nothing about his origin or trainer. They know nothing about him. I’ve got Jerry looking at it just in case.” Steve offered.
They were quiet long enough for Steve to recline back into his chair, eyes on the ocean, thoughts on the pokémon at his hip.
“You’ve been with him for a few weeks now babe. What do you know about him,” Danny asked but Steve just shrugged his shoulders, “Come on babe, use your words.” Steve huffed and pulled Charizards ball off his belt.
“I don’t know…He’s…he doesn’t like to follow orders, and he doesn’t seem to want me close to him…but…when he was sick and tired he didn’t seem to mind. As soon as he felt better he started acting out, hateful, and angry. He spits fire at me but I don’t think he actually wants to hurt me. He could if he wanted to, he’s a bit slow but he can get around on his feet just fine. The fire just keeps me at a distance.” Steve replied, gazing at the Premier Ball, rubbing his thumb over its smooth surface.
“What’s that sound like to you?” Danny asked and once more Steve heard the grin in his voice. Danny glanced over at him and rolled his eyes as realization dawned on him.
“He’s afraid,” Steve groaned out at his own stupidity, “The poor guy wakes up from hibernation and gets given to a guy he’s never met. One who starts barking orders at him the second he gets on his feet. How could I have been so stupid?” Steve felt like hitting his head on a tree. Danny just laughed.
“Babe, you’re not stupid. You said it yourself, it’s been a long time since you had a ‘mon of your own. You guys weren’t together very long before…before you had to leave. Aside from that you’re used to military trained ‘mon, they never question an order.” Even though Danny wasn’t mocking or being a dick Steve still felt like a moron.
“I just…I saw the problem but I didn’t see the bigger picture.” Steve replied quietly. This was what Danny was always telling him about. Not rushing in head first.
“Your heart was in the right place Steve,” Danny rested a hand on his shoulder, Steve hadn’t realized he was standing up, “You just didn’t have all the intel. Now you do, now you can do better.” Steve lifted the hand that wasn’t holding Charizard’s ball to rest over Dannys.
“You honestly think I can do this Danno?” Steve asked, not able to help how small his voice sounded.
“I know you can babe, and if you need help all you have to do is call me,” Danny replied before leaning down to kiss his forehead.
Steve's breath caught in his chest and his stomach swooped. This thing between him and Danny was new; delicate. After Danny’s disastrous affair with Rachel, and his own false imprisonment, the two of them pulled their heads out of their asses and started seeing one another. It had only been a few months but Steve liked to think they were doing well.
“You uh…you wanna spend the night?” Steve asked as Danny straightened up. Despite sharing a bed numerous times they hadn’t done anything more than some heavy petting. Both of them were too inexperienced with male-on-male relationships to be comfortable with more just yet.
“I’d love to babe, but I’ve got court in the morning. The drug bust from up on the North Shore.” Danny replied and Steve groaned again, he had forgotten about that. Danny and Kono were testifying.
“This weekend?” Steve asked, stalling. He didn’t want Danny to go just yet.
“Sounds good babe,” Danny replied with a squeeze of Steve’s shoulder, “I gotta go make sure my good jacket is pressed. I just wanted to stop in and check on you. I’ll see you tomorrow after court.” With that Danny let his hand fall from Steve’s shoulder and Steve watched him walk away.
Steve stayed outside, mulling over his recent revelation, as afternoon turned into the early evening. Leaving off his brooding about dinner time Steve headed inside and warmed up some leftover fish from the day before and mixed up a quick salad. With his food prepped Steve set about whipping something up for Charizard. The poke’ in question was still, mostly, on a Poke-Chow diet but Steve had recently started adding fresh berries and a grilled Magikarp fillet as well.
The world, Steve thought, was a weird place. Pokémon fed on pokémon and animals fed on animals. They didn’t prey on each other and they didn’t interbreed, though would share territory. He wasn’t a zoologist, pokémon, or otherwise, so he wasn’t going to try to figure it out. Instead, he loaded up a tray with both of their food, a beer for him and grabbed a jug of fresh water for Charizard, and headed back outside.
Sitting his food on the picnic table and Charizards on the ground nearby, he grabbed the pokes’ ball and triggered it. In a flash of white light, Charizard was standing before him, neck arched high as he prepared to pull in air.
“Hold on, hold on. I just…I want to talk to you. Nothing else.” Steve rushed, hoping to forestall the oncoming fireball. He hadn’t brought his extinguisher with him, hoping to foster some trust. To his surprise, Charizard relaxed, a bit, but kept a wary eye on Steve.
“Look…we got off on the wrong foot,” Steve started. He knew most pokémon understood, mostly, whatever human language they were brought up around but no one was ever sure how much, “And that’s my fault. I…I can’t imagine what you felt when you saw me. I’m not the trainer you knew. You wake up, sick, tired, and probably in pain; and a stranger starts barking orders at you the minute you feel better.
“I fucked up…and I apologize. What do you say that we calm down, have a bite to eat, and try to go from there?” Steve motioned to the big bowl of Poke-Chow, Berries, and Magikarp and the gallon jug of water nearby.
Charizard moved to the food carefully, walking sideways so he didn’t turn his back to Steve, while Steve sat down at the picnic table. Steve watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the pokémon picked up the large metal bowl and sniffed at the contents. After a moment Charizard open his maw and breathed a small stream of fire onto the food, giving it a light char, before slowly digging in.
As they ate Steve kept a surreptitious eye on the poke’. He was delighted that Charizard had stayed where Steve had placed the food, about six feet from the picnic table, as it was the closest the poke’ had allowed them to be in nearly a week. He was even more delighted when, after a few bites, Charizard sat down to eat instead of standing. It was small but Steve took it as a win.
The two of them finished their food at roughly the same time and Steve decided now would be a good time to talk, instead of waiting as he had planned.
“I’m not much of a trainer,” Steve started quietly, looking past Charizard and out to the ocean, “I was gonna be when I was a kid. Had my starter pokémon. A Totadile. They aren’t native to the islands but…I wanted one so much my parents jumped through all the hoops needed to get me one. I loved that little guy. He was my best friend. I...I thought we were gonna be together forever.” A lump caught in Steve’s throat as he brought up the memories. He didn’t know what he was doing…he hadn’t even told Danny about this and here he was spilling his guts to an abused and ill Charizard that hated his guts.
“Chaaar.” Charizard, who had been sitting with his head turned up; looking at the darkening sky, vocalized as he turned to look at Steve. Steve didn’t understand Pokémon but he felt like the question was clear.
“I trained him solo for a few years, I wanted us to have a real connection before I formed a team. Just when I thought we were good enough to start including others…something happened and I got sent away. I…I couldn’t take him with me, so I left him here…with my Dad. I planned to have him sent to me later…but my dad ended up getting rid of him before I could. I dunno if he released him or gave him away. I never asked…I was too mad…too everything. I should have found out. But I never did.
“I don’t know how much of this you're getting. How much you understand. I just…I just wanted you to understand why I’m so bad at this. I never trained another pokémon after that. Never planned to. But then I found your ball on my beach, right out there.” Steve pointed out to the area where Charizard’s ball had been buried in the sand and the poke’s head snapped over to stare at the area. Steve realized then that he had never told Charizard how he came to be in Steve's possession.
‘I’m so fucking bad at this.’ Steve berated himself silently. Steve left off his story and told Charizard everything. How he had found his ball buried in the sand, taking it to the Center, finding out that it had once belonged to Team Rocket, (at the mention of the defunct criminal organization Charizard let out a low hiss Steve had, until now, only heard directed himself), and how they had to transfer him to a new ball to save him.
“Your old ball was failing. They had to transfer you to a new one, to a new trainer, to save you. I was the only guy available,” Steve explained and Charizard once more turned to look at him, “I hadn’t planned to keep you. It was just going to be temporary, till we got you out of the ball and squared away. But when you materialized in the incubator, when I heard how sick you were and saw how weak you had gotten after being in hibernation for so long…I wanted to be the one to help you out. Help you get better. I should have known better. I’m not a trainer. I should have had them find someone better…or at least asked what you wanted.” Once more emotion choked Steve of words. He was fucking babbling and he hated it. He didn’t even know what he was trying to accomplish anymore. Every time he opened his mouth more words just spewed out, out of his control.
“Char chaaaar.” Steve, having been staring down at his empty plate, looked up at Charizards vocalization. Charizard had moved close to the table and was looking between the bench and Steve pointedly. Swallowing his nerves Steve scooted closer to the fiery pokémon bit by bit. Once he was just outside touching distance Charizard gave a short huff. Steve got the message; close enough.
“As my Danno would say, big guy, we both have a truckload of issues,” Steve smiled and Charizard gave a short snort, “Why don’t we just...start over? I’ll stop barking orders at you like I’m your trainer, ‘cause I’m not, and you stop trying to roast me alive. Instead… let's just focus on getting you better. I see how you look at the sky, you wanna fly again, and I want to help you. Let's work together to get you there…and then we’ll find someone to take care of you...someone better than me. Sound like a plan?” Steve offered, though the idea of Charizard leaving soured his stomach, holding out his closed fist.
Charizard just stared for a moment, looking between him, his outstretched fist, and the sky above.
“Char.” Charizard vocalized with a nod after what had to be at least five minutes. Steve smiled and nodded in return. Before he could drop his fist Charizard reached out with one curled clawed foreleg and bumped it against Steve’s knuckles.
“I dunno why I even did that,” Steve offered, feeling stupid, “Just felt right I guess.” Charizard didn’t respond, not that Steve expected him to, so Steve scooted away a bit before standing up and grabbing his dishes. He was surprised when Charizard picked up his bowl and started to follow Steve to the house.
“The Center said it do you good to stay out of your ball as much as you can...you want to hangout out here for a bit while I clean up? You can go back in your ball when I head to bed. Maybe this weekend we can set you up a nest if you wanna sleep out here.” Steve offered and Charizard gave a short nod. The pokémon sat his bowl on the ground between them before turning and lumbering back toward the surf.
###
Danny stood at the door of the lanai and watched as Charizard and Steve worked out. Charizard, understandably, wasn’t keen on new people. Even more understandably he didn’t like crowds. Given those issues the traditional rehab facilities on the islands were non-starters. So, in true Steve fashion, his partner had turned his backyard into a treatment area. Most of the ‘mons issues were general muscle weakness and a more pronounced weakness in the shoulder area and flight muscles.
There was an area with pokémon grade weights and resistance bands, another with stackable benches for Charizard to do decline pushups, (Danny had been there when Steve showed the ‘mon how to do them. The look on Charzards face had been priceless), and a long section of the beach would never be the same after Charizard pounding it down as his ran laps back and forth near the water line.
As he watched, evening rehab was coming to an end. Charizard was laid out in the nest that he had helped Steve and the ‘mon set up a few weeks ago with Steve massaging the area around the base of his wings.
Danny had caught the tail end of the rehab session. Steve had waved him over but he had elected to stay in the doorframe, watching. After the first few weeks of insane aggression, during which Danny had feared for both Steve and Charizard’s safety, the pair of them were now getting along famously.
They still had their moments. Steve, by order of the Governor, was largely office-bound until the “Charizard Situation” as she called it was settled. The knowledge that the head of Five-0 had come into possession of a shiny Charizard had, so far, remained quiet. Shiny Pokemon were rare and sought after and a shiny Charizard would be a crown jewel for any crook, being worth at least five times its weight in cash. If not more.
Which was another reason the normal rehab facilities wouldn’t have worked. No one wanted it out that Charizard existed until they were sure that the ‘mon could take care of itself. Or, barring that, be cleared to spend Steve’s work days in his ball. As it was the ‘mon was still only cleared to spend about four hours at a time inside its ball, with at least another four hours outside between. They got around the rule in the office by clearing out one of the larger storage areas in the basement for the pokémon to nest in.
Charizard’s easy acceptance of the dark, dank, and windowless room, had had a souring effect on Steve’s mood. Danny could understand, back in Jersey he had broken up his fair share of Pokemon gangster dens. He had seen innocent ‘mons and animals in some of the worst conditions imaginable. So when Steve asked him to help spruce the area up for Charizard Danny readily accepted.
“Yo Danno, give me hand,” Steve’s voice pulled Danny out of his thoughts, “Help me clean up so Princess here can rest.” Steve motioned at the yard, then at the Charizard. The ‘mon in question gave a half-hearted growl at Steve’s choice of nicknames but remained cozy in his nest.
As Danny helped Steve pick up and organize the equipment he couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling in his chest. Charizard was progressing by leaps and bounds under Steve’s attention. Danny knew it wouldn’t be long before Charizard was flying again. On one hand, it was great. It’s what Steve had been working on for the better part of a month. Danny knew Steve would be ecstatic to see his, and Charizards’, hard work pay off. On the other hand, it meant Charizard wouldn’t be around much longer.
Steve had told him all about the deal he had made with Charizard, about finding Charizard a place he could be safe and taken care of. Danny knew Steve had been relentlessly searching for just such a place. The current front runners were the Charicific Valley or one of the Lental Islands. Steve preferred these areas because Charizard could live free. In the valley, he’d be surrounded by his own kind and since the Lental Islands were No-Catch zones he’d never have to worry about humans again. He knew Steve had put out feelers to certain Professors and Researchers about trustworthy trainers as well, just in case Charizard didn’t want to live wild.
Much to Danny’s upset Steve had, apparently, never considered that Charizard was already in a safe place with a trainer that could take care of him.
Steve had told him time and again since they met that he wasn’t a trainer, but Danny knew that he had been. He had seen Steve’s files. Before the Navy, before his mother, before being sent away; Steve had been training a Totadile. And, according to the files, he had been doing a damn good job. Danny didn’t know what had happened to the ‘mon when Steve had been sent away…but whatever happened had been enough to turn Steve off the idea of raising another Pokemon.
Danny wished Steve could see himself how he saw him, how their friends saw him. Steve, contrary to his own beliefs, was a trainer. Pokemon, wild or trained, tended to flock to Steve and hang on his words. Danny’s own team, all stubborn bastards (just like him) listened to Steve just as well as they did him. That alone was proof enough for Danny that he was in the right, of Steve being a natural-born trainer as well as his decision to date the SEAL. Danny’s ‘mon had never, ever responded to any of his girlfriends, or Rachel, with more than cool politeness.
(He had briefly feared for his life during his ill-considered affair with Rachel. His team hadn’t been happy with him.)
With the yard picked up the two of them headed inside, leaving Charizard to snooze in his nest. Once in the kitchen, Steve washed up and immediately started pulling together ingredients for Charizard’s supper. Being outside of his ball so often meant he needed to eat more so it was a good thing Berries and Magikarp were plentiful on the islands. Danny couldn’t help but smile as Steve bobbed around the kitchen with ease. His partner was humming along to a song in his head, nodding along with it as well, with a small grin on his face. Couple with the sweat shorts riding low on his hips and the soft worn and faded NAVY tank he was wearing Steve cut an attractive and achingly endearing figure.
“Why don’t you just keep him?” The words were out of his mouth before Danny was even conscious of forming them and their effect of immediate. The relaxed and light atmosphere immediately became tense and filled with the kind of silence that was heavy and oppressive. Danny could have kicked himself as Steve’s posture became tense and the humming and head bopping stopped. He had, mostly, been able to keep his opinions of Steve’s “I’m not a Trainer” attitude to himself. Seeing every evidence to the contrary with Charizard though had made it harder and harder to keep his tongue. Especially when he saw the forced smile Steve glued on whenever he talked about Charizard leaving.
“I’m not a Trainer, Danny. I dunno what I would do a poke’ of my own.” Steve gave the same tired answer Danny had heard a dozen times before. The monotone edged with defeat frustrated Danny so much he wanted to rip out his hair.
Or maybe shove John McGarrett’s corpse in a Fossil Reviver just so he could punch him, (Danny pointedly ignored the fact that it wouldn’t work. The fantasy was too captivating).
“Steven,” Danny began after taking a deep breath and counting to ten in his head, “You are my best friend. My Partner. My boyfriend, (Steve cringed at the “B word” he always said it made them sound like high schoolers), and I care about you deeply. So I say this will all respect and gentility that I can muster. That statement is bullshit.”
“You care about me deeply Danno?” Steve’s posture relaxed a bit as he grinned over at Danny. Danny rolled his eyes before crossing to Steve’s side and pressing a kiss to the goof's cheek.
“You know I do, you goober,” Danny replied as he hopped up on the counter next to Steve’s workspace, “That’s why I want you to hear me and consider what I’m saying. You’re rehabbing; and doing a stellar job of it, a Charizard. One of the most stubborn pokémon species in existence. And that is without being in hibernation for at least a decade, having been trained by a criminal organization, and being unable to fly. All those issues combined with a Charizard’s naturally prickly disposition? A trained professional couldn’t have done better.”
“You do know something about pokes’ with prickly dispositions Danno.” Danny had to admire Steve’s attempt at deflection as he nodded at the balls on Danny’s belt.
“I do,” Danny nodded with a smile, Steve had walked right into that one, “and my team likes you almost more than they do me. You are the only person they take orders from other than me. And that was before we started dating.”
“Danny,” Steve sighed, setting aside the Berries and Magikarp fillets he had been dicing to face him fully, “Even if I wanted to keep him, and even if he wanted to stay with me; which he doesn’t, Hawaii isn’t safe for him. I’m not safe for him. As soon as it got out that the head of 5-0 had black Charizard, the crooks and gangsters would be out in full force.”
“More than they already are?” Danny interrupted and it was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes.
“My point is, Danno, that it wouldn’t be safe for him. I promised him somewhere he could be safe. Not somewhere he’d be under constant threat of theft or poaching. He isn’t safe with me.” At that Steve went back to prepping said pokémon’s food.
It tore Danny up to hear Steve be so down on himself. Once again he found himself wishing that he knew what happened to Steve’s first pokémon to make him so hard on himself. He had some theories but he didn’t want to either snoop behind his partner’s back or push him to tell him something he clearly didn’t want to talk about.
Danny did have some tact after all. Still, he couldn’t leave things how they were. He just had to do it carefully.
“Look, Steve,” Danny pitched quietly, “I don’t know what happened to make you think less of yourself as a trainer, but you’re great with pokémon and you’re great with Charizard. I’m not gonna bug you about this anymore, but I’m gonna say one last thing first. I think you should consider keeping him. There’d be no safer place on the island than with you. With 5-0.” Steve smiled over at him as he spoke before looking back at his meal prep.
“I will think about it Danno, for you. Despite you ignoring the fact that the big asshole doesn’t want to stay here. Charizard only puts up with me barking orders at him so he can fly again and get out of here.”
Steve went back to his prep, changing the topic to different types of Berries, and Danny looked out into the backyard.
It was amazing how someone as smart as Steve could be such an unobservant dumbass.
###
Steve paced around the Pokemon Center’s waiting room, ignoring the looks of the other trainers, as he waited for Charizards' exam to finish. It had been a month since he and Charizard had started working together and the pokémon had recovered phenomenally fast. It was a testament to the pokes’ hardy nature and the exercises that the Center had given Steve to follow. Despite his progress though, despite their progress, Charizard still wasn’t flying.
Danny, and everyone else, had been telling him not to worry about it. And he had been trying, really he had, but he couldn’t help but feel like he had screwed up somewhere along the line.
“Commander McGarrett,” Joy Kailani called and Steve halted his pacing, “Charizard is all done. He’s perfectly healthy.” She held out Charizards' ball to him as she spoke.
“That can’t be. You had to have missed something. Check him over again.” Steve demanded, not taking CHarizard’s ball.
“Bliiiiseeeeey.” The Center’s Blissey, once again, appeared from nowhere at Steve’s side.
“Can you put a fucking bell on her?” Steve asked as the fluffy pink poke’ glared at him in a frankly murderous way while turning an alarming shade of hot pink. Joy Kailani ignored him.
“Commander, I checked Charizard over twice already. Frankly, I’m astounded at how quickly he recovered. I expected months of rehab. Whatever you did worked wonders. You should be extremely proud.” Steve finally took Charizard’s ball back, staring down at it as he spoke up.
“He’s not flying, if he’s perfectly healthy then why isn’t he flying?” Joy Kailani motioned to a pair of nearby chairs and Steve followed her to sit. Blissey toddled off to terrorize someone else. Steve wasn’t sorry to see her go.
“I saw the note about your concerns before I checked him over. To be honest with you, I don’t know why he isn’t flying. His wings and flight muscles are in perfect health, his biochemical levels are stable, and his flight bladder is perfectly functional. He may be afraid or nervous to fly after so long, or he might not even want to. Whatever the reason though, it isn’t physical. It’s nothing that you did.” Joy Kailani assured him softly but Steve just shook his head.
That wasn’t it. Steve didn’t know jack about pokémon, not really, but he knew about longing. Charizard stared at the sky the same way Steve stared at the ocean when he went too long without a swim, the way Danny did every time New Jersey was brought up. Charizard wanted back in the air.
“Where do we go from here? We can’t risk releasing him into the wild if he can’t fly and no Trainer is gonna take on a flightless Charizard.” Steve questioned and Joy Kailani gave him confused look.
“I…I was under the impression that Charizard was staying with you…permanently?” She asked and Steve had to sigh. Why did everyone keep thinking or insisting that Charizard was or should stay with him? He wasn’t a trainer. Despite what Danny, and apparently Joy Kailani thought, any idiot could follow the rehab guidelines. In fact, if Charizard wasn’t flying he obviously hadn’t done it correctly.
“Just…where do we go from here?” Steve asked again, he wasn’t getting into this debate. Again. Joy Kailani looked like she wanted to protest but eventually nodded.
“I’ll look over his test result again, as well as his physical results. I’ll also reach out to some Joys I know that specialize in flying pokémon as well as those with trauma issues. The best thing I can advise you to do now though is to keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s worked wonders so far.” With that she got up and walked away, leaving Steve unable to argue back.
“Not wonderfully enough,” Steve murmured to the ball in his hand.
“Bli bli.” Blissey’s soft, sweet vocalization nearly made Steve shoot out of the chair. Seriously, a fucking bell. Two bells. Ten bells.
“I don’t speak demented-nurse-pokemon,” Steve told her. Blissey momentarily glared at him again before softening.
“Bli bli.” She intoned once more, this time tapping Charizard’s ball before tapping him on the knee.
“Yea still got nothing,” Steve replied, shaking his head.
“Bli bli.” The Blissey vocalized again, tapping the ball and his knee more forcefully.
“Hey, watch it. He pops out and he’s gonna cause a scene.” Steve held Charizard’s ball away from the pink pain in the ass.
“Blis bli.” She huffed, giving him a glare that put him in mind of Danny, before turning and toddling away.
Steve decided to beat a hasty retreat before she came back.
***
Steve lay in the cool darkness of his room, Danny snoring slightly at his side, as he stared into the darkness of his ceiling. It had been two weeks since his last appointment with Charizard and the pokémon still wasn’t flying. Joy Kailani had gone back over all the info and still couldn’t find anything physically wrong. The people she had put him in touch with that dealt with trauma-based issues insisted Charizard would need to be transferred to them, on the mainland, before they could treat him.
Steve had nixed that in the ass as soon as it had been mentioned. He wasn’t letting Charizard out of his sight until he knew the poke’ could take care of itself. If the Pokemon head shrinks wanted to treat him they could come to Hawaii.
Since the last appointment though Charizard had regressed some. He was distant and snappish. Not as aggressive as he had been when they first started out but he was definitely aggrieved. He didn’t know what to do. For now, Charizard was still going through the rehab routine and exercises but if he kept regressing, attitude-wise, it was only a matter before he refused to work with Steve. If he did that…Steve had no idea what to do. With a frustrated sigh Steve, gently, disentangled himself from Danny and sat up.
“Waz happ’nin? We getta call?” Danny’s sleep-slurred question made Steve grin.
“No Danno, just getting some water. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.” Steve hushed his partner as he stood, pulling a pair of shorts on over his boxers. Danny just grumbled at him and pulled Steve’s pillow close so he could bury his face in it. Steve smiled and his heart swelled. He was briefly tempted to just crawl back into bed and scoop Danny into his arms, frustration forgotten. Now that he was up though he realized he really was thirsty.
After a quick piss, Steve washed his hands and headed down to the kitchen. After a long drink, he filled up the glass again, deciding to take it upstairs in case he or Danny wanted a sip before morning. Glancing out of the window before heading back upstairs Steve stopped short. He couldn’t see Charizards tail flame. Scanning what he could see of the backyard, knowing Charizard liked to go down to the beach, Steve still couldn’t see him.
Steve grabbed Charizards ball from the counter near the door, and one of the tac knives he had hidden in the kitchen and headed outside. Distantly he knew he should wake Danny, in case of hostiles, but he didn’t want to overreact. He’d do a quick sweep, chances were Charizard was just out of sight of the window, and if he couldn’t find him he’d come back for Danny.
The light from the lanai didn’t reach very far, and he had yet to get the solar light stakes that Danny had been harping about, but the sky was clear and the moon was mostly full. The yard outside of the lanai light was cast in a dim blue glow and, another time, Steve might have thought it was nice. Now though, pokeball clutched in one hand and tac-knife at the ready, he wished it was brighter. After doing a sweep of the immediate area Steve headed toward the beach. When grass gave way to sand Steve saw Charizards tracks and he followed them down to the water’s edge, where they disappeared into the surf.
There was no sign of a struggle and Steve knew damn well that the poke’ wouldn’t get close enough to the water to get swept out by the tide. As Steve turned to head back, intent on waking up Danny, when he heard a roar overhead.
Steve turned back to the water and snapped his gaze up to the sky. A shadow, with a bright spot of flame at its end, streaked across the moon and Steve’s heart leapt. Charizard was flying! Elation turned quickly to dread though as the shadow, as Charizard suddenly plummeted toward the water.
‘Fuck, he tried too much too fast,’ Steve’s mind raced, ‘If he hits the water at the speed...if his tail-flame goes out.’ Steve was ankle-deep in the water, intent on swimming out to Charizard despite knowing he couldn’t do anything, when the pokémon pulled up at the last moment. He watched in amazement as Charizard skimmed the surface of the water, heading straight toward Steve. Steve watched as Charizard slowed his approach, then pulled up to hover. Steve shielded his eyes from sand from Charizards wing flaps as the poke’ landed.
“Charizard…this is great. You’re flying!” Steve cheered as he started toward the pokémon. Charizard though stepped back, eyeing him warily. Steve realized he was still holding his tac knife.
“No, no don’t be afraid. Shit. Sorry,” Steve whipped the knife to the ground behind him, burying the blade in the sand before turning back to Charizard, “I didn’t see you and thought someone might have snatched you. I came to look for you. You should have waited till tomorrow to try your wings, that way I could have been here if you needed me.” Steve chided the big pokémon as he moved closer to him.
Charizard still eyed him a bit but otherwise didn’t move as Steve came into arm's distance.
“Are you feeling ok? It’s late but do you need a rub down? If you strained yourself it’ll set your progress back.” Steve rambled, feeling oddly like Danny. Charizard just gave a soft huff and gave a soft slap of his wings. Steve got the meaning, he was fine.
“Alright, alright, big guy. You’re fine. I get it. Can you at least wait till tomorrow morning to do any more flying?” Steve asked and Charizard gave another gentle huff before moving past toward his nest. Steve fell into step behind the pokémon, only then noticing the Wishiwashi dangling feebly from Charizards claws.
“Midnight snack?” Steve questioned as they walked. Charizard halted briefly, holding up the wriggling fish pokémon as though he had forgotten he had it. Steve watched, slightly grossed out, as Charizard brought Wishiwashi to his maw before biting it in half and then swallowing both pieces.
“I could have lived without seeing that at two in the morning,” Steve remarked.
“What, and I can’t stress this enough, in the hell are you two doing out here?” Danny’s voice had Steve’s gaze snapping to the house. Danny was standing by the door in nothing but his black boxer briefs with Steve’s backup sidearm pointed at the ground.
Steve really should not have found that visual as hot as he did.
“Earth to McGarrett, come in McGarrett!” Steve snapped out of a brief fantasy he’d have to remember for later to answer Danny.
“I was getting water and didn’t see Charizard, so I came out to check. He’s flying Danny! Flying well! How awesome is that?” Steve explained moving to, carefully, wrap Danny in a hug. Danny patted his back with one hand as he held Steve’s gun out to the side.
“That’s great. Also, why the fuck would you hug a guy holding a goddamn gun?!” Danny exclaimed, pushing Steve back and setting the gun on the small table by the door.
“I couldn’t help it. I was too excited,” Steve turned back to Charizard, “Now we can finalize plans to find you a permanent place!” At those words, Charizard whipped his head toward Steve and let out a menacing growl.
“What the problem big guy, you hurt?” Steve made to move toward Charizard but Danny grabbed his arm, holding him in place.
“I don’t think he’s hurt, not physically,” Danny replied but before Steve could ask what he meant Steve’s focus was pulled back to Charizard as the pokémon stomped over to them.
“CHAR!” Charizard growled out once he was about a yard away from him and Danny.
“What’s wrong with you? This is what we’ve been working for, getting you healthy so we could find a safe place for you. Or a good trainer if you don’t want to live wild.” Steve offered, confused.
“Babe, think about it.” Danny admonished from behind him. Steve glanced over his shoulder briefly but Danny’s eyes were on Charizard. Steve pulled his arm carefully from Danny’s grip and moved a few feet closer to the aggrieved pokémon.
“I don’t understand.” Steve offered, not getting why Charizard was suddenly pissed at him. Charizard moved a bit closer and Steve moved to meet him, putting himself between the pokémon and Danny. Just in case. Charizard though halted and stared at Steve for a moment before lowering his head and jabbing Steve, gently, in his shoulder with his snout.
Steve stood in shock. It was the first contact the pokemon had ever initiated. Charizard did it twice more, in rapid succession, each time a little stronger. On the fourth nudge, Steve raised his hand on instinct, only then realizing he was still clutching Charizard Ball in his hand.
“I..I..what..” Steve trailed off, realization starting to dawn on him.
“I think that’s his way of saying he’s already got a safe place, and a good trainer.” Danny offered, appearing at his side, taking his free hand.
“Chaaaar.” Charizard let out a pleased rumble, almost a purr, and straightened up.
Steve stared between Danny, Charizard, and the Pokeball in his hand for several moments before speaking up.
“But…I’m not a-“
“Yes Babe, you are.” Danny interrupted just as Charizard let out a hissed “Zaaaar.”
“I’m gonna fuck up, you need to know that,” Steve said quietly, looking from the Pokeball in his hand up to Charizard. He could feel the wetness at the corner of his eyes but ignored it for now, “I’ve not been with a poke’ in a long time. I’m gonna screw something up along the way. So if you change your mind, now or later, I’ll get it.” At that Charizard cocked his head to the side before turning and lumbering back toward his nest, stopping once to look over his shoulder at them.
“Come’n babe, I wanna get back to bed.” Danny tugged at his arm, toward Charizards nest, not back to the house. Once at Charizards side the pokémon reached in and swept the brush piled at the back to the side, then turned and tipped his tail flame to illuminate the inside. Once his eyes adjusted Steve realized what the pokémon was showing him.
Bones, charred and broken bones. Steve's pokenatomy was rusty but he was pretty sure he was looking at Magikarp bones.
“What the” Steve started as realization dawned on him, “You’ve been flying before tonight, haven’t you?!” Steve demanded, staring over at Charizard.
“Chaar char.” Charizard vocalized in what Steve was sure was a completely unrepentant growl.
“Why the hell didn’t you show me before?” Steve growled out but Charizard just looked away. Danny, however, started laughing.
“What's so funny,” Steve demanded as he turned to his partner, “I’ve been worried about him for weeks.” Danny continued to laugh for several seconds before he answered.
“He didn’t want to leave, you dumbass. He’d probably been faking for weeks, hiding that he could fly, so he could stay here. With you.” Danny finally explained, gently, and Steve once more felt tears prick the corner of his eyes as he turned back to Charizard. Charizard was looking at him, head ducked and wings folded in.
“I…I’d be really happy if you stayed,” Steve managed after a moment, “You’ll have to start meeting my team's pokes’, you’ll have to be able to get along with them. But you don’t have to be a Police Pokemon, you can just be my Partner.” Charizard perked up as Steve rambled. He looked; if Steve was reading it right, happy.
“Why don’t we hash this all out tomorrow, after some sleep? I dunno about you two but it’s almost three am and I’m tired.” Danny spoke up and Steve was shocked when Charizard threw his head back and let out what could only be a raspy laugh.
“Yea..yea that sounds good. I’ll make us all a big breakfast,” Steve offered as he looked between his partner and…his new pokémon, “Do you need help to fix your nest?” Steve asked, motioning the destroyed back side. Charizard though leaned his head forward and bopped his snout against Steve’s shoulder again.
“You…you want in your ball?” Steve questioned, holding it up hesitantly. Charizard bobbed his head in a nod and Steve mirrored it.
“R..return.” Steve managed around the lump in his throat.
“Char…ZAR!” Charizard roared out as he dematerialized into the Premier Ball. Steve swallowed hard as he gazed at the pokeball. It somehow felt heavier in his hand, even though he knew it wasn’t.
“Come on, babe. Let's get some sleep.” Steve let Danny take him by the arm, spin him around, and guide him back into the house. Steve was so overwhelmed with the enormity of the last few minutes that, if Danny hadn’t been leading him by the elbow, he’d have been bumping into walls and tripping over furniture. If he had been able to leave the backyard at all.
Steve wasn’t able to pull himself together until Danny pulled Charizard’s ball from his hand, placing it on the bedside table, and tugged his shorts off; letting them fall to his ankles.
“What, Danno, this ain’t the time.” Steve yelped, immediately feeling stupid when Danny laughed and pushed him back onto the bed.
“Believe me, I know,” Danny smirked as he climbed over Steve to settle back on his side of the bed, “Our first-time nookie isn’t going to be in the wake of your Trainer Epiphany. I just want to go back to sleep and am trying to speed up the process by getting you into bed.”
Steve wiggled and slid around until he was able to crawl back under the cover with Danny. Instead of pulling Danny back to him he instead shuffled a bit till he could rest his head on Danny’s shoulder, arm around his furry torso, and leg slatted between Dannys'.
“I…I don’t even know what to say Danno.” Steve whispered into the dark.
“You don’t have to babe. Not tonight, and not tomorrow. You just have to go with it. I’ll help you figure it out. We all will. For now, just accept you’ve got your own partner ‘mon. Tomorrow morning, after we sleep, shower, and have breakfast, we’ll figure out more.” Danny responded, warm stroking over his skin. Steve could tell by his voice that Danno was already starting to drift back off.
“You’re right Danno. Sleep. You’re too chatty, keeping me up all night.” Steve joked, only to yelp when Danny pinched the back of his arm, near his armpit.
“Go to sleep, you schmuck,” Danny ordered him quietly. Steve decided not to poke any more fun. Instead, he nuzzled into Danny’s hairy chest with a sigh and just let go.
He needed his rest, after all. He was a Trainer now.
#H50#hawaii 5-0#McDanno#Danny Williams#Steve Mcgarrett#McDanno fic#My Writing#J Writes#Markuse88 Writes#H50 Pokemon Fusion
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