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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

You woke up slowly.

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check.

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check.

Wait…

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left.

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear.

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check.

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man.

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

...

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out.

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you.

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again.

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep.

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze.

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body.

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on.

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out.

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going.

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove.

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn.

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease.

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you. As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly.

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse.

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball.

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place.

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow.

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could.

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course.

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome.

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality.

A certain quality of... of...

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves.

Sigh.

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet.

The reply was instant.

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more.

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up.

Your jaw dropped.

You dropped your phone.

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it.

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope.

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say?

This is just an ad?

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone.

At a very specific number.

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree.

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything.

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that.

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh.

You sneezed.

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose.

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered.

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait.

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers.

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh.

Whoa.

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs.

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch.

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket.

Oh.

Oh???

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone.

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt.

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him.

Yoongi was right next to you.

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat.

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second.

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

part iv

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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fayemarvels · 3 years

Text

Changed my mind

Loki x fem!reader

Hey guys so, this is my first Loki fic I really hope you like it. I have a part two planned so if you would like to read it please, let me know.

Summary: Thor is sick and he asked Loki to get him some Midgardian food. He went down to New York, where he met a girl and she helped him to cook food for his brother. Maybe Midgard isn't so bad after all.

! please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you.!

Warnings: none, bad writing

Word count: 1.9k

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Loki has always hated Midgard and everything that comes with it. People, traditions, clothes, food, you name it. He always thought Midgardians were below him, less than him and he was sure nothing could change his mind. He never understood what Thor saw in them and their planet.

His brother was also the reason why Loki was here. You see, Thor had the worst type of Asgardian flu and he persuaded Loki to get him some Midgardian food. There was just one problem. Loki didn’t know any Midgardian food and he didn’t have any books about the planets’ food.

That was why he was in New York, to get a recipe book. He wandered around the New York streets and people were looking at him very weary. To be honest, he did understand why. He tried to take over their planet after all. After about 40 minutes of walking around, he finally found a bookstore tucked away in a quiet alleyway. Loki swung the door open and the bell above his head rang.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a soft

“Coming, wait a moment please.” from the back of the store. In a few seconds, a girl came from the back looking around the store for the new customer.

“Hello welcome!” she greeted cheerfully.

“How can I help you?” when she looked at Loki she froze, but then just shook her head. He looked around and informed her.

“I need a recipe book with some of the best Midgardian foods.” She nodded quietly and walked from behind the counter. The girl hurried to the shelves full of books and ran her finger across the spines. She stopped and took out a thick book with a picture of pancakes with chocolate and some fruit on the cover.

“This is what you are looking for.“ she informed him and handed him the book. He took it from her hands and flipped through a few pages. Loki silently informed.

”I will take it.” She smiled and walked toward the cash register. She rang him up and he paid for it. But couldn’t help herself.

“Excuse me but, can I ask you something?” she asked and he turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

“Why do you want to cook our food? Didn’t you hate our planet?” he rolled his eyes and decided to answer. He had all the time in the galaxy.

“My brother is sick and he asked me to get some Midgardian food that isn’t fast food.” He took a breath and decided to continue.

“I never ate Midgardian food so I needed some references. I will conjure them up with my magic.”

“I don’t think it will taste really good if you conjure it up with your magic.” She confessed and he looked very offended.

“It’s not that I don’t think you are incapable I just think it would be better if you cooked it with your hands.” He looked at her confused and shook his head.

“And why would I do that hmm? Tell me, little mortal.” She looked really nervous but managed to get out some words.

“I think it will make him feel better if it would be made with love.” He scoffed and looked at her.

“What love? There isn’t any.“ She shook her head.

”If there wasn’t any, you wouldn’t be here.” he looked to the side with a weird look on his face.

“If you want I can help you help to cook it.” She tried to sound confident but he could hear she was nervous.

"Why would you want to help me?” he asked and she replied.

“I don’t have anything to do and I really love cooking.” She smiled at him and he narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, you can help me.” He decided and she laughed.

“Ok, my shift ends in about 2 hours so you can come then. Pick some meals to cook in the meanwhile. Now go!”

“Wait! I don’t know what to call you.” He said and she replied quickly.

“It’s (Y/N). go before I change my mind about helping you.” He just shook his head and walked out of the store. ===== When (Y/N) turned off the lights in the shop, Loki was just coming into the ally way.

“So you ready to learn to cook?” she questioned and he nodded.

“Let’s get this done with so I can go back to Asgard and never come back here again.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist and started to pull him towards her home.

“So my apartment is extremely messy and I’m sorry for that.” She confessed and Loki only grumbled.

“You midgardians, so fucking messy.” She glared at him and slowed down a little bit. They walked in silence and (Y/N) decided to spark up a conversation.

“What did you pick?” he looked at her confused.

”To cook. You were supposed to pick some meals to cook.” He opened his mouth in realization and spoke up.

“Well, I picked something for beginners so we wouldn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen.” She nodded and he continued.

“Some vegetable soup and pancakes with whipped whip cream, chocolate, and fruit.”

“Ok, I have everything for these things so we successfully avoided going into the supermarket.” He looked at her puzzled and she just continued.

“The seniors in this area are crazy. If their life depended on it, they will fight with you until death just to get the things that are on sale.” He chuckled and she smiled in his direction. ‘He has a pretty smile’ she thought but then shook her head. When they came into her apartment she kicked her shoes off and tossed her keys into the bowl on the dresser in her hallway. She shrugged off her coat and walked into her kitchen.

“Nox baby? Where are you?” she shouted into her apartment and Loki looked at her weirdly. In about a minute he could hear a quiet sound of legs scratching on the wooden floor.

“Hope you like cats.” She turned around to look at Loki and he smiled awkwardly. When Nox came into the kitchen he rubbed against (Y/N)’s feet and she crouched down.

Before she could pet him he ran towards Loki to inspect the man he has never seen before. He sniffed at his legs a little before Loki crouched down and put his finger out for the cat to sniff. (Y/N) just watched the interaction in awe.

When Loki looked up he saw her looking at him and he quickly said. “He’s not that bad.” But (Y/N) knew he secretly already had a soft spot for him.

“Okay I’m going to change into more comfortable clothes and we can start.” She left the room and came back in a couple of minutes wearing a tank top and black sweatpants.

“You want some clothes as well? I have some from when my friend was sleeping over.” He nodded and she went to pick them up.

“They will probably be a bit small because he isn’t as giant as you are.” She explained and he took her from her hands and went to change into the bathroom. When he came out she was already taking out all the utensils they will need. He tossed his clothes onto the couch and walked over to her in the kitchen.

“You have something I can tie my hair with?” he asked and she gave him the hair tie from her wrist.

”I always keep one on my wrist at all times, in case anyone needs one.” She informed him and he smiled. He put his hair in a bun and waited for her instructions.

“First cut the vegetables in cubes and put them into the pot. We are doing the healthier version so we won’t use flour.” He tried to keep up but was already failing miserably. When he cut up the carrots and potatoes and stirred them in the pot for a while, they put the water into it, and let it cook.

“Ok, now take out a plastic bowl from that cabinet and I’ll take out our ingredients.” She pointed to the cabinet and Loki complied. He never would’ve thought he would be taking orders from a Midgardian. He came back with a bowl and they put some eggs, flour, milk, and sugar into it. She handed him the whisk and he looked at her confused.

“Stir it I will be right back.” She went into a cabinet to take out some sunflower oil and a pan and put it on the stove to heat it up.

“You want to flip them?” she asked and he shook his head yes.

“I will flip the first one because it’s always messed up, no matter what you do.” She informed him and he looked very interested in all of the new information about cooking. She showed him how to flip pancakes and when to flip them and she went to check up on the soup.

She was washing the dishes from the cooking and their dinner when she heard a quiet snore. She went to look into her living room and she saw Loki and Nox sleeping on the armchair. She took a blanket and covered both of them with it and went back into the kitchen.

When she was done cleaning up, she put the newly cooked food into some containers and went to sleep in her bed. Before she did that, she checked up on Loki one more time and turned on a light on the other side of her living room in case he woke up and didn’t know where he was.

She woke up to the sound of quiet cursing. She rushed out of her bedroom to see Loki standing in the middle of the kitchen looking through cabinets.

“Good morning, what are you looking for?” she asked and he turned around looking alarmed.

“I was looking for some tea bags.” He informed her and she just shook her head and walked towards a shelf that contained her collection of tea.

”Here what kind do you want. I have fruit tea, green tea. Maybe black tea?” they both decided on black tea and went to sit in the living room.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked and she just shrugged.

“My cat was sleeping on you. Didn’t want him to wake up.” She said casually and he looked at the cat, who was fast asleep on the window.

“I… I wanted to thank you.” He started nervously.

“You helped me so much and it was really nice of you.” She looked to the ground and replied.

“It was no big deal. Honestly.” Loki stood up, looked around, and (Y/N) could read from his expression it was time for him to go.

“I’m going to heat up the food and prepare it so you can go.” He nodded and they both walked into the kitchen. =====

When she prepared everything she put the boxes on top of each other and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. He came out, handed her the borrowed clothes, and looked at her.

“Thank you again. For your help.” She waved her hand.

“It was no big deal, really.”

“You know, maybe your planet isn’t so bad after all.” He confessed and she put a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to come and visit earth you can always come here and sleep over.” He smiled and nodded. He walked out of her apartment onto the street, looked into her window, waved at her, and just like that, he was gone.

He always thought that nothing could change his mind about Midgard but, maybe he found a reason he will learn to like the planet.

She changed his mind.

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

so, thanks for reading my work, hope you enjoyed reading it. if you think I could improve something about my work, please share it with me. Also if you think I can make my writing more inclusive, please share that with me as well.

-Faye xxx

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #loki friggason #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fluff

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litteidiot · 3 years

Text

Four Seasons With You

Volume one: Chapter 1- Spring

Easter Egg Hunt

Pairing: Victor x Mc

Summary: When an unexpected inconvenience gives you the opportunity to make this day unforgettable for him.

“I’ll see you later.” You chriped on a sunny morning. Basically hopping in front of him, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips before parting.

“So cheery today and the day barely started. Does a certain dummy has something in her mind?” Victor hooked his arm around your waist, giving you another kiss on the forehead. “Oh, it’s nothing, just springtime.” You smiled at him. “And it’s also Easter.” You added. He nod reminding himself about the holiday. Today he was supposed to be at home with you enjoying each other’s company. You made him promise you because he is on his day off he won’t look at any document nor report. He is yours only.

But last night in some ungodly hour, the management crew gave him a call, about some hiccups what occurred with the overseas department. The negotiation to collaborate with the new American company took a bad turn and they refused to do anything further if they can’t talk with the CEO of LFG. So it meant he has to go in for an impromptu meeting.

“I’ll make it up for you when I’ll get back.” He pulled you close again, hinting another soft kiss on your temple. It was still early in the morning. He tried to get up beside you without disturbing your sleep, but when you didn’t feel his warmth anymore, you woke up and followed him to the kitchen. You shook your head in refusal. “Don’t rush the meeting because you want to get back home earlier for me. Take your time I know you were in contact with this company for a long time. I’ll see you when you finished.” You smiled at him.

You know this deal can benefit LFG’s future in the overseas market. So of course you don’t want this to end badly because of some holiday. “Even though it means two batches of pudding.” The sweet smile on your makeup free face turned into a mischievous and greedy grin. “Such a dummy. Always thinking about her stomach.” He murmured pretending to be annoyed, but you knew this man long enough to know he will grant your wish. “When I get home I better not see chicklets, bunnies and an idiot running around the house.” With that he closed the door behind him and left.

While you made yourself a light breakfast, what only contained toast and eggs, your mind was furiously racing on how to spend the time while waiting for your boyfriend. As you kept musing on the possibilities on how to spend the day, you gradually remembered the little surprises you left in Victor’s office while you waited for him to finish his meeting a couple days back. A prankish smile tugged on your lips. Shoving down the remaining bites of your meal, and taking a few more sips of the coffee you hurried away to get dressed.

Walking in the step in closet you chose a casual wear for the day. Pushing and flipping the hanged up clothing articles you eventually found a nice beige colored dress among the many formal and ridiculously expensive clothings. When you became Victor’s partner and after the media acknowledged this information you got invitations to balls and fancier parties. It was a natural requirement you had to look high class just like him. Your boyfriend mercilessly spoiled you rotten with fancier and fancier dresses, personally tailored to your sizes by the finest taylors he could find. As the collection grew, it swallowed all your older clothes. The dress you posed with in front of the body sized mirror was like a scavenger hunt amongst the many night gowns and suit dresses.

Quickly putting on your chosen outfit, you left the penthouse in a hurry, barely being able to snatch your purse on the coat hanger. You were having an intense race with time. To not blow up your sudden Easter surprise you tried to do the shopping as quickly as possible. You don’t know when Victor comes home so it added another reason to make this fast.

***

“Goldman, the management team better have a good reason to call me in, because I have a better place to be today.” Victor’s stern voice echoed through his office the moment he stepped in. Several moments of keyboard clicking later Goldman began with his speach.

“The possible partner we are trying to convince suddenly got a more appealing offer from a different company. The deal was that the company will sponsor them PR commercials and advertisings, they can keep their position in the stock market and can have sixty percent of the income.” He said, flipping back and forth on the tablet.

“I see.— Victor rested his chin on his hands— “Remind me please about the deal LFG offered.” The assistant cleared his throat, opening the files what contained the agreement. “Comparing to the new proposal our offer is lacking. Because of their crash in the marketing area lately, you decided to not offer munch in case the collaboration would backfire.” After minutes of thinking, what felt like centuries Victor finally spoke up.

“Rewrite our proposal. Tell them LFG will ensure their stay in the stock market, and will back it up if any unpleasant problmes happens. Also mention they have a two months recovery time and we will give one hundred percent sponsorship with the possibility to function as an independent company like Kiseki Entertainment. This is the best deal they can get and they know it.”

From the very first moment, Kiseki Entertainment functioned independently. Under his guidance, you bloomed into a successful company in barely two years, becoming one of the most productive investments amongst the very few freelancers under LFG. “Arrange an online meeting in twenty minutes. During that, — he stood up, to make his way to one of the conference room— “collect informations about our opponent what can be used for LFG’s advantages.” Goldman nodded already holding his phone to his ear, summoning the staff needed for the conference.

“Anything else you want t— is that an Easter egg?” Goldman pointed at the bunch of tiny colorful eggs scattered around the coffee table. The more he looked the more he noticed. On the shelves, between Victor’s compture, on the coat hangers.

“Goldman who was the last person in my office?” He asked, walking around removing the candy eggs from their places.“Until this morning no one was in here. A few days ago only Ms. Mc stayed here, waiting for you to finish the meeting.”

Victor sighed.

Of course it was you.

***

You looked at the row of numbers at the screen, your purse, and then the ridiculous amount of Easter eggs piled up behind you. Maybe you carried away a little bit.

“Uh, excuse me for a second.” You kept digging in your purse in hope you will find your credit card. After minutes of unsuccessful searching you started to panic a little.

Your plan was to buy plenty of Eggs and hide them all around the mansion. You bought chocolate eggs and plastic eggs in all sizes and colors. Also a pink rabbit onesie because you couldn’t insist. You just didn’t expect the price what came with it.

“I’m sorry Miss, but you are keeping up the row. Do you wish to purchase these items?” The cashier lady asked what made you squeak and panic more. “Please debit these items on Victor Li’s account!” You blurted out. The cashier nodded typing away the informations. “Everything is settled, have a pleasant Easter.” The lady smiled handing you the bags. Thanking her and wishing for the same you made your way home. If you knew ypu will end up with multiple bags you will take the car.

“I’m back.” You opened the door of the house placing the bags on the floor. A small meow eachoed at the corner, a cat trotted towards you. “Hi Pudding, mommy is back.” You bent down to pick up the cat, a light huff leaving your lips. “Victor feeds you too well.” You giggle pocking at the fat at the cat’s belly. “I will bring some Easter spirit into this big house will you help me?” Like the animal just understood you, Pudding meowed and with a hop she escaped your embrace and walked away. Lazy cat.

Shrugging it off you unpacked and stared to hide all the eggs around the house. In the kitchen, the coffee table, the couch, hangers, in his suits. In other words you hide them everywhere you found it suitable. Now all you had to do is wait for his return.

***

Several hours passed, the sun was about to go down when he finally came home. Tossing away the book you were reading, you jogged to the entrance to greet him. “Welcome home!” You smiled at him, what left your face in a second. “Is everything alright at LFG?” You furrowed your eyebrows in conern when you saw his expression. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.” He said. “Nothing is wrong, my plans just takes a little more time to be accomplished.” Victor pulled you to his side, giving a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me make up for you with a dinner. It’s your call, I’ll make you anything.” He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and rolled it up while walking in the kitchen.

“Pudding!” You smiled, Victor rolled his eyes at your remark. “Dummy, you want pudding for dinner?” He asked opening the fridge. “What is that?” He held a green chocolate egg in his hand. “Ah, I see. We are mischievous today.” A smile crept up on the corner of his lips, putting the sweet aside. “So I assume the plenty of chocolate in my office was your doing too.”

“I have no idea what are you talking about.” You shuffled away. “I didn’t do anything.” He chuckled. “Of course you didn’t, those eggs are from the Easter Bunny. So what do you like to eat?” He asked again getting the pots and pans ready. Without a word he put another handful of eggs aside, making it harder for you to comtain the fit of laughter what is about to erupt from your chest.

“Beef ribs would be fine.” You composed yourself. Victor nodded and began to prepare the dish. “So tell me, what were you doing all day?” He asked putting away another egg when he opened the cabinet where the seasonings were. “Aside from scattering sweets all over the kitchen.” A soft giggle left your lips. “Just the usual. I cleaned up, fed the cat. You knows, the things I usually do.” You chatted nonchalantly, like having Easter eggs around the house is ordinary.

“Why you are so clingy all off a sudden?” He lookes at you in confusion when he notices you are following his every step with your eyes. “What? No, I’m not!” You grinned, getting more eager every time he found an egg.

But what you didn’t know that the more he found the more annyed he got. He saw Easter eggs everywhere. On the kitchen counter, in the fridge, on the cabinets even in the cat bowl. But he didn’t have the heart to tell you. You waited for him all day so he can bear with your pranks a little longer.

He didn’t know what will coming.

“The ribs are almost ready.” He closed the oven after flipping them in the pan. “It’s smells so good.” You hummed, mouth already watering just from imagining how smoothly you knife will slide through the juicy ribs.

“I’ll go set the table.” You hopped down from the barstool and opened one of the cabinets to get the plates. While you clattered with the utensils, Victor opened his phone to check the notification he got from his bank during the meeting. The numbers he saw is what made him finally snap.

“What did you do?!” He exclaimed, looking at you, eyes wide as saucers. His sudden harsh tone startled you, almost making you drop the plates you balanced in your hands. “$150?! What did you buy?!” He questioned, his eyes shooting daggers at you. He sighed. “Don’t tell me all that were for chocolate eggs! Are you out of your mind?” He raised his voice at you, his eyes casting a frightening shade. The last time he looked at you this way when you barged in his office, demanding for funding. And that was many years ago. You flinched under his cold stare.

“I’m sorry.— you put everything in your hands down— “I-I’ll go clean that up.” With that you left the kitchen, and disappeared at the corner.

“Mc, wait.” He called after you, immediately regretting the way he spoke to you. A wave of guilt went over him when he caught up to you in the living room. Like you said, you obediently rummaged around to find the eggs. And it would be fine if you wouldn’t sniffling quietly, occasionally reaching up to wipe your eyes. And he hates it when you cry. And despise it if he’s the reason behind your tears. He didn’t mean to be this harsh with you. Or at all.

“Mc.” Victor called your name. Looking at the source of his voice you wiped off your tears in a quick motion. “Don’t bother, — you turned back, to hide your bloodshot eyes.— “I’ll get everything done. Go set up the dinner.” His heart ached, watching you turning away to hide your tears from him.

“No.” He walked up to you, folding you into a hug. “Today I almost lost the client I negotiated for weeks. They got a better offer and I had to change plans. The meeting was unplanned, I should’ve been at home with you.” He murmured into your ear. You stood there in sock while he kept talking.

“So I got frustrated. I shouldn’t have to release my anger on you. You just wanted to spend this day with me. I’m sorry.” He apologized. You on the other hand was shocked. Your boyfriend is a prideful person. And goddamn, he is also stubborn just as much like you are. The man you get to know almost never makes mistakes and if he does, the ground can crack, there’s no money in this world for him to make him admit it. He had to regret his actions very much to muster out an apology.

“It’s okay.” You turned to face him, knowing he meant it. Reaching up you scarping your fingers through his soft and well kept hair. “It was my fault after all. I went overboard with the sweets. And I scattered them all around the house.” You added. “Dummy.” He sighed, a relieved smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw you are hot angry at him. A soft giggle escaped your lips, remembering again how many chocolate eggs you hide in this big house.

“This looks better.” He pulled away, wiping the remaining tears from the corner of your eyes. “From now on just smile only. It looks better on you than the tears.” A pink color appeared on your face. When this stone cold man get so romantic?

“I’ll go pick up the eggs. Just keep making the dinner I’ll be fine.” You turned around and walked away.

***

“Almost got it!” You stretched further, balancing with a net in your hand while Victor had a firm grip on your hip. You were practically levitating above the pool to reach for the plastic egg at the bottom. Victor during that grew some gray hair.“I can’t believe you literally threw eggs in the pool. What if I’m not around? You straight up jump in?” You glared at him above your shoulders. “Hold me still or let me go. I can get them myself.” You puffed up your cheeks and reached further.

“Idiot, you can’t even swim.” He sighed. “Mc, stop wiggling you going to fall in!” And like this is what gravity waited for, you slipped on the wet tile, you fell in dragging Victor with yourself. With a swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms and brought you up in the surface. “I told you to hold me!” You screeched between coughs. “If you wouldn’t throw eggs in here like an idiot you are we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He fired back sitting you on the edge of the pool and then he climbed out himself.

“Dummy.” He sighed for the millionths time today, draping you in a towel. “Go get changed or you’ll catch a cold.” He helped you up. In that moment a little smirk appeared on your face, and it stretched wider. “What is it? Don’t tell me you still have eggs.” Victor sighed, a miserable look on his face. “Nothing.” You smiled and ran away.

“How many times I have to tell you? Don’t run by the pool!” He yelled after you but you were already outside. Grabbing the paperbag left on the bedroom you hurried away to the shower. After taking a shower you put on the pink, fuzzy bunny onsie you bought today. Stepping out your bringht pink color looked way too odd compared to the black and claret themed bedroom you two shared.

“What on earth are you wearing this time?” Victor looked at you from the bed. While waiting, he used the guests bathroom and changed into a black silk sleepwear. You giggled and hopped in next to him. “I didn’t remember keeping a rabbit at home.” He chuckled. “Childish.” He added. Rolling your eyes at his comment you laid down besides him. “Today is still Easter so I’m excused.”

“You have 5 more minutes to be like this.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Then we are stretching it till tomorrow because I’m not changing.” You turned to face him.

Putting down his phone on the bedside table, Victor pulled you closer to his body. “I’ll make it up for you for being away. And for yelling at you.” He sighed, pressing his lips on the top of your head. As he moved closer to you something pierced into his side. Reaching to get it a small plastic egg was in his hand.

“Dummy.”

Your cheerful laugh echoed through the bedroom.

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#mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor #mlqc xu mo #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc bai qi #mlqc mc #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc headcanon #four seasons with you series

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 3 years

Text

Illicio 21/?

Part 20

"Jon? Did you- oh!" Martin's voice says above them. Gerry looks up at him, taking in his slightly confused smile. "What's happening?"

"We're planning a garden, apparently," Jon says before Gerry can respond.

Martin's eyebrows arch, and his mouth forms a little 'o' of surprise. "That sounds lovely actually."

"Any requests?" Gerry asks. It's a bit ridiculous how happy this makes him, that the two of them just... hopped into his dumb idea. It feels hopeful, like they too want to plan for a future together.

Martin rests his chin on his crossed arms on the windowsill, and gives them a smile just the slightest bit mischievous.

"I think we should plant lavender."

XXI

Martin doesn't wake up with a start. His heart isn't hammering in his chest and his breathing isn't shallow and hurried; his nightmares are not the kind that makes you feel in danger, the kind your body wants to wake up from.

They're... gentle.

Calm walks down into a soft grey expanse where he knows nothing can hurt him, because he is alone asides from his thoughts, and the sadness that permeates his every step.

He guesses it must show somehow when he's dreaming of the Lonely, because he usually wakes up to Jon or Gerry's gently concerned voices, and a hand nudging at his shoulder until he decides it's time to come back.

Funnily enough, it's the lack of those what does it this time; if neither of the two is waking him up, that means it's one of those rare, blessed nights in which the three of them were able to sleep, and they're going to be pretty sad if they wake up and find that Martin dreamt himself into the Lonely.

He wants to think they'd be at least, even if it's a bit selfish.

It's with that want that he opens his eyes to the darkness of the bedroom, and he turns to Jon with a slow-spreading smile when he hears him muttering something about a cat in his sleep. He doesn't Watch people's nightmares on the nights Gerry feeds him, and it's nice to know he's just having a regular dream. It feels... normal. Like what Martin wants the rest of their lives to be.

He looks over Jon's shoulder, to see how Gerry's doing, and his stomach flips when he notices the man is not in bed with them.

It's okay, it doesn't have to be something ominous, Martin thinks. His heartbeat is speeding up now though, as he climbs off the bed and investigates the empty bathroom, before risking the rest of the cottage. People go for midnight snacks, that's a normal thing to do. Even if Gerry doesn't get hungry, he still likes to eat.

He jokes and says it makes him feel like a person, though Martin thinks he's the most human of the three of them, whenever he watches him hold Jon in his arms, looking down at the man like he's surprised he's still there, and the soft light of the cottage projecting a golden hue over his dark hair, making Martin's hands itch for a notepad and a pen.

His stomach knots tighter and tighter over itself, when he moves down the corridor towards the kitchen, and finds the entire cottage is encased in darkness.

"Martin?" a voice asks from the pitch-black kitchen, and Martin jumps, his chest flooding with the mix of exasperation and relief that has become synonym with Gerry in his mind.

"Why are you in the dark?" Martin asks, his voice soft. It feels important, for some reason, that they don't disturb the silence too much. As Martin's eyes get accustomed to the darkness, he can make out Gerry's form against the far end of the kitchen, his hair messed from restless sleep, his face tired, a steaming mug in his hand.

"Don't need it to see," Gerry whispers back with a shrug. "Why are you up?"

Martin makes his way over to him, leans on the counter by his side. It's hard to say if Gerry's radiating warmth, or if Martin is just too cold. "Nightmares."

"...Ah. Sorry." Gerry reaches over to place his mug on the table, and turns to face Martin. "Are you- I could make you a cup of tea. Can't promise it'll be any good, though."

His tone is genuinely apologetic, and Martin feels his lips curl into a smile. "Well, you had to be bad at something, didn't you?"

"Is my lack of tea-brewing ability a deal-breaker?" Gerry's voice carries the hint of a smile now, and his fingers brush against Martin's on the counter. "I'm willing to take some lessons, if that's the case. I happen know the perfect teacher."

"It apparently isn't a deal breaker, because you're both hopeless at it." It's mind-blowing, to think they're just... here.

Alive, standing at the kitchen in the middle of the night, the scent of coffee curling around them like a blanket as they make quiet jokes about a relationship that they haven't discussed, but that is somehow there anyways. The tension of looks exchanged over Jon's head, of brushes of skin that feel loaded with electricity and the knowledge that the other will be there, steady and reliable like the sunrise every morning.

"Well... the offer still stands, or if you want some of my coffee-"

"I shouldn't." Martin shakes his head. "It gives me anxiety, and I was hoping to go back to sleep."

"Oh." Gerry looks sideways and up at him, looking at a loss of what to do. Martin finds it endearing; of course Gerry can't deal with the thought of not fixing something; can't even fathom the thought that just his presence is doing wonders to ground him. "Can I do something, then?"

Martin looks down at him, at the faintest gleam of moonlight that comes across the dusty windows -they need to clean that before Jon takes it upon himself to do it- to only insinuate the beautiful mix of blue and green of his sweet, concerned eyes.

"You could kiss me, Mister Keay."

The embarrassment of being so blunt is more than worth it, when Gerry's eyes fly wide open, and a surprised chuckle escapes him, almost sounding like it was punched out of him.

"I- would that help?" he asks, but he can't keep the smile off his lips and Martin is so taken by the sight of him that he nearly leans down to do it himself.

"I think there's one way to find out." Martin smiles.

Gerry's hands are careful when they finally land on him; one on the back of his neck, one on his cheek, just like he's seen him touch Jon a handful of times before they kiss. Martin's heartbeat speeds up, and he might be drunk on the feeling already, the thought of being wanted almost as intoxicating as its counterpart.

He lets himself be pulled down, lets his face be tilted to the side, and the hand on his cheek pushes his glasses up his forehead so they don't get in the way.

It's a bit poetic, to kiss this ghost of pain and ink and love under the quiet glow of moonlight, and know that the only lonely thing in this kitchen is the mug of coffee cooling on the table.

They separate slowly, like waking up on a lazy morning, and Martin's wet lips tingle with want and with the weight of words it's far too soon to say.

"Did that help?" Gerry sounds cocky and pleased, but also a little bit breathless, and Martin rolls his eyes as a wave of warmth washes over him.

"You know, I'm not so sure," Martin taps a finger against his chin. "We might have to try again to confirm."

Gerry laughs quietly, probably to avoid waking Jon up, Martin thinks, and the words threaten to spill from his lips again. "Well, we have to be certain, don't we?"

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

"She knew these were not her children, and this was not her home. But they kept calling her mum, and there were many, many pictures on the mantle showing the happy life they lived. Feeding the ducks at St. John's, having a picnic by the lake, playing at the beach, practically every moment of their life documented in carefully crafted snapshots. She did not remember having a spouse that captured those moments either, but surely the pictures couldn't be lying to her, could they? She'd had a bad night's sleep, she was confused, and she needed to make breakfast for her children, what kind of mother would let them go hungry? She swore she'd never be like her own." Gerry readjusts his arms as Jon shifts on his chest in seek of a more comfortable position, and he reaches forward to kiss the crown of his head before continuing. "She started breakfast as she usually did, eggs on toast, and two slices of grilled ham, one for her and one for Dusty. Her hands stilled over the sizzling pan as she contemplated the name that felt so natural in her mind but that didn't fit with the reality she was currently living. She had two children, a house, and a lovely spouse with a lens for a face. She did not have a playful little mutt with ash-colored fur and a long lolling tongue, always with a chewed up stick by his awkardly large paws-"

"So what you're saying is you can escape the fears with the power of quiche and the power of puppies?" Martin asks, his voice tinged with amusement.

"That's exactly what I'm getting from it too, Martin, thank you." Jon snorts, and Gerry squeezes him in retaliation before looking at Martin. He finds him by the window, sitting at the little table they dragged there, with a notepad and a steaming cup of tea before him.

"Don't encourage him, that's how you end up having to pull him from coffins and alternate dimensions."

"In his defense, it was hardly his fault that he got hit on the face with that bat."

"See? Martin knows when things are my fault, that one wasn't."

"The coffin was definitely your fault, though." Martin points at him with the spoon he used to stir some sugar into his drink. "Is this a mixed one?"

"It definitely sounds like it. Spiral, Stranger, Eye... I'm thinking it's the house itself." Jon shifts some more on his chest to look at Martin too, before squeezing Gerry's forearm. "We'd known if someone would just finish the statement."

"So demanding." Gerry rolls his eyes.

"The hungry, hungry Archivist," Martin mutters under his breath as he blows on his cup of tea, and Gerry snorts over Jon's offended 'Martin!'. It's- it's good to see Marting feeling comfortable enough to joke around. "Sorry, sorry! Finish it, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Don't apologize," Gerry chuckles. "Where was I?"

"The power of puppies," Jon grumbles.

"I'm going to stop feeding you, sir."

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

"You should treat me to lunch or something, I've been sitting on a bus for eleven hours," Tim groans as he stretches his arms over his head to pop the kinks in his back.

"That's kind of your fault though," Martin chuckles. His shoulder feels cold where he bumps it against Tim's, a reminder that none of them really escaped the Institute intact. "You could've come through Helen."

"And miss the chance to feel like a regular human being? Martin, please." Tim bumps his shoulder right back as they walk down the main street. The little town is quaint and quiet, picturesque in a way Tim knows both Martin and Jon are suckers for, which he supposes is good enough. Martin deserves to end his story in a place like this. "How have you been?"

"Hm? Oh, we've- we're doing well. It's- it's good. We're good." There's a spot of color to Martin's face when he smiles, and Tim rolls his eyes. "What?"

"You've really got the worst taste in men, it explains why you were never into me."

"I hope you'll be able to forgive me," Martin laughs. "How are things back home?"

Tim shrugs, shifting the cardboard box he's carrying to support it on his hip instead. "It's going. Elias is still nowhere to be found, not that the police are really looking for him anyways. Basira could probably find him, but she's got other things to worry about now."

Martin lets out a slow exhale, his shoulders growing a bit heavier. "Still no luck with Daisy?"

"She knows how to find her just fine, and Daisy's leaving a trail of dead avatars that's pretty clear to follow even for regular people." Tim sighs as well, running a hand through his hair. "Daisy moves too fast though. There's no way to predict where she's going next, she's not following any pattern."

"Yeah... Jon said as much. He's tried- he says the things he Sees in her mind make no sense, it's all impulse and instinct, nothing logical that he could understand."

"That sounds about right," Tim mutters. The thing that broke out of Daisy's skin, that launched down the tunnels in a clash of claws and fangs and blood along with the other two... he doubts there's much human thinking going on with any of the hunters right now. "I suppose it's not too bad as long as she's only hunting avatars, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Martin says quietly. "I don't- things don't feel as black and white anymore, if you ask me."

Tim snorts.

"Some of your best friends are avatars?" He asks. Martin arches an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look, and Tim feels the teasing smirk on his face turn pleased instead. "Yeah. Okay."

-------

The place looks nice enough, a little stone fence with a wrought iron gate and a path made of stepping stones leading to a door whose blue paint has long since chipped and faded under sun and wind and rain. It looks... inoffensive, a little slice of the countryside to escape the chaos of the city, or whatever terrible plans your eldricht monster of a boss has weaved for you. Cozy and warm and welcoming, a place where one could make a home.

Martin pushes the door open, and Tim freezes at the very familiar scent coming from inside.

"...Tim?" Martin turns back to look at him when he doesn't follow him in. "What's wrong?"

How to explain it to Martin that nothing is wrong, or rather nothing he can put to words?

He remembers this smell, and the last time he felt it, the sound of rain spattering on the windows, and a movie on the background. He remembers teasing (back when he thought he was healing, that maybe one day there would be more to his life than just mourning his brother) about feeling like he was being set up for something, and then the hurried announcement and yes, don't be ridiculous, of course I'll move to the Archives with you, does that mean I have to call you boss now?

The thrill of being a safe space for someone, even broken as he was.

"Tim, are you-"

"Martin? Did you bring- oh." Jon stops just short of actually stepping out of the kitchen, looking at him like he's a ghost and the Desolation inside him burns, though whether it's Jon's sorrow or his own that he's feeding off of is anyone's best guess. "I'm- hi."

I hate you. I miss you.

"Hey," Tim pushes through a dry throat. "You- you made barg?"

Jon nods slowly. "I understand, if you don't want to eat with m-"

"It would be very stupid, though," interrupts a third voice, and Gerry's stepping out into the living room from somewhere deeper into the cottage. "You'd have to go all the way back to town to find yourself a sandwich or something. You look like crap, but I guess a long bus ride will do that to anyone, even fear avatars huh?"

His voice is somewhat terse, and Tim wonders if he can feel the hurt in Jon's voice just as intensely as Tim himself can. The air in the room grows heavy as every eye settles on Tim, waiting for him to reply.

"I'm- yeah. I think I'll ask Helen to give me a ride back. I can stay in her for a while to make it up to her," he says finally. Things are never going to be the same. Tim doesn't want them to be the same. The friendship they shared once was rooted in pain too, but this is different. "I could eat something, I guess."

-----

"I'm- I brought some statements," he says later that night, after they've had dinner and cleared the plates away.

"Oh?" Martin arches an eyebrow where he's dropping an armful of blankets and a pillow on the sofa.

Tim averts his eyes.

"I just- I know you have other ways to feed now, but I thought it would be a good idea to keep your boyfriend from running dry too soon." He can feel their eyes on him, but he keeps his gaze on the little radio on the table by the window. "We don't want you going out to hunt random people."

"Thank you, Tim." Jon says quietly, carefully. Tim doesn't have to look up to guess Jon isn't looking at him either, or the small lopsided smile.

"Hm," he says. "Dinner- it was good. Thank you."

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

"Gerry? Martin wants to know if- what are you doing?" Jon's words taste like surprise and laughter, like warm honey, like so many emotions Gerry has never had aimed at him before, and that feel like coming home. "You've got dirt on your nose."

Gerry looks up to find Jon leaning out the open window, looking down at him with bright eyes and a brighter smile. He's suddenly very aware of how he must look, the aforementioned dirt on his nose, and his hair done up into a messy bun to keep it out of his face, kneeling on the ground with a pile of badly pulled weeds by his side.

"I'm- I've never had a garden before." Gerry shrugs. It's not so much the words he's embarrassed about, but the implications. Like painting the door, like oiling the gate, building a garden is not something one does for a temporary place. "I just thought it would be fun to try- whoa, careful!"

He reaches up to hold Jon's forearm as he all but climbs out the window and comes to crouch down by his side.

"Have you started thinking about what you will plant yet?" Jon asks. There's not a hint of compulsion in the question, despite his eyes lighting up with the eerie green of his powers. "Maybe a raspberry bush, carrots... some potatoes later on?"

Gerry snorts. "Did you just use the Beholding to Know what veggies we could grow?"

"It's high time it was useful for something." Jon shrugs, giving him a coy little grin. When Gerry reaches over to pull him against his chest he comes easily enough, laughing. "You're going to get dirt on me."

"Get used to it." Gerry presses a kiss to his cheek. "I love you."

Jon turns his head then, to kiss the corner of his lips. "I love you too," he says.

The words pour into Gerry like warm water over a sore muscle, and they settle in his chest right where his heart should be, bright and warm and so sweet with emotion that Gerry can't bring himself to answer in any way other than squeezing Jon tighter against his chest, burying his face in Jon's mess of soft dark and grey hair.

"Jon? Did you- oh!" Martin's voice says above them. Gerry looks up at him, taking in his slightly confused smile. "What's happening?"

"We're planning a garden, apparently," Jon says before Gerry can respond.

Martin's eyebrows arch, and his mouth forms a little 'o' of surprise. "That sounds lovely actually."

"Any requests?" Gerry asks. It's a bit ridiculous how happy this makes him, that the two of them just... hopped into his dumb idea. It feels hopeful, like they too want to plan for a future together.

Martin rests his chin on his crossed arms on the windowsill, and gives them a smile just the slightest bit mischievous.

"I think we should plant lavender."

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

"I thought you were done with the pining, sir," Gerry whispers into his ear, the grin clear in his voice.

Jon merely smiles and moves along on the sofa to make some space for him, before he turns back to look at Martin.

He's practically nose-deep in the old transistor radio they found back at the toolshed, his sleeves rolled back over his forearms and a streak of dust across his forehead where he scratched absentmindedly a few minutes ago.

"I'll give it to you, it is a nice view," Gerry adds. He's got no regards for subtlety of course, and Jon smiles wider as Martin's cheeks flush a little, though he keeps his gaze stubbornly focused on the inside of the radio. "Are you sure you don't want us to get a new one?"

"This one is perfectly good, thank you." Martin rolls his eyes. "It just needed some cleaning."

The satisfied smile on his lips when he flips the switch and the speakers crackle to life is a memory Jon will treasure for a long while.

"You continue to surprise me, mister Blackwood." Gerry chuckles. "What are we listening to?"

"I don't really- oh, this is good." Martin smiles again when the radio picks up a frequency. The music is somewhat static-y, but still recognizable as some old 70s rock. The tempo is fairly upbeat and cheerful, and Martin bounces a leg to it. "The silence was starting to get to me."

"We can't have that," Gerry nods solemnly, climbing to his feet. "C'mere."

"What?" Martin chuckles, but his hand comes to rest on Gerry's offered hand as the song picks up in rhythm.

"I'm asking you for this dance, sir." Gerry grins and pulls him up and against him in a twirl that has them tripping over each other and stumbling to regain their balance.

Jon smiles softly to himself as he watches them fall into step with each other, laughing all the way like a couple teenagers that have had one too many beers.

Gerry leans up to kiss a freckle on Martin's cheekbone, and Martin's eyes slide over to pin Jon, brighter than ever and making his heart skip a couple beats.

Jon stands no chance when large hands wrap around his wrists to yank him to his feet, but realistically, he wasn't really going to put up much of a fight.

'You can't dance and stay uptight' indeed.

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

"It just doesn't make too much sense, if you ask me," Melanie says. She's not terribly worried about it, but it's been on her mind for a while now. "Jon feeds from you now, Helen has me or Tim in her corridors sometimes, I don't think I've ever seen Tim feed... I thought these things forced you to hurt people. Like the Slaughter did with me."

"I don't think anyone really knows, firecracker. The entities don't come with a manual, no matter how many old idiots have tried to write one." Gerry taps her knee softly with something cold and hard, and Melanie wraps her hand around the cider can. "Jon still has statements sometimes, so he and Helen are still feeding off of other's fear. My best guess is that Tim is feeding the Desolation with his own."

"What's Tim afraid of?" Melanie arches an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. It's both sweet and tart on her tongue, a good contrast to the bowl of salty chips Gerry placed on her lap when they came to sit at the garden.

"Jon, mostly," Gerry grunts. "Or rather, Jon mourning the way he was before. The Desolation is about sorrow and loss too, and those two have enough of that."

"Wow, I didn't know you were still so bitter about him ruining your first date." Melanie hides her grin behind the can; she can practically see Gerry rolling his eyes from the scoff he gives next.

"I think I'm allowed to be wary of an avatar of the Desolation holding a grudge against Jon."

"Or thinking he does."

"Or thinking he does," Gerry agrees. "What I'm saying is- I don't think even the avatars themselves know how this works, asides from 'feed your entity or you'll have a bad time'. What Gertrude and Dekker knew, what I thought I knew- even what the Eye lets me Know now is very limited when it comes to this."

"What about Martin?" Melanie asks.

"What about him?" Gerry asks right back, his voice careful. Melanie rolls her eyes.

"Does he feed too?"

"Not quite," Gerry says quietly after a moment. "He's neither here nor there, you know? Lukas forced him into the Lonely, but then he chose it himself. He's like Basira, or you when you had the bullet, only there's nothing to pull out of him to fix it."

The disappointment at this fact is clear in his voice, and Melanie remembers once again the kind of person her friend is.

"I'm sure having you helps." She shrugs. "All of us, I suppose."

Including herself in it feels weird, but right. Georgie's laugh comes through the window, mixed with Jon and Martin's quieter chuckles, and a crackly radio playing old classic rock. The garden smells like moist dirt and the cool, crisp highland air, and she can hear Gerry digging around with what she guesses must be a spade.

"I wanted to kill you when I first met you, you know?" she blurts out. And now I'm here sitting with you while you work on your dumb little garden, she thinks, but doesn't say.

"I did get that impression, I don't know why. The knife, maybe." Gerry chuckles, and his spade thuds on the ground before he comes to sit against the wall with her, bumping their shoulders together. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah." Melanie goes to take another sip of her cider to soothe her suddenly dry throat. She knocks her foot against Gerry's leg. "Yeah, me too."

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

What with his mother, his general insecurities and the whole 'comiting to the embodiment of loneliness' thing, Martin has had very few opportunities to live with people in his adult life. He's surprised to find that he likes it, despite the constant itch of frustration coming from the bits of the Forsaken buried feel within him.

There's something to be said about hearing Gerry whistling to himself as he works on the garden, or waking up from a nap to the scent of whatever Jon is cooking for supper.

There is notoriously less to be said for stepping on a wet towel at four in the morning when he's just trying to go into the bathroom to pee.

"Gerry!" he snaps, trying to keep his voice to a whisper because even if Jon isn't asleep or even in the room right now, it's four in the morning.

"Martin? What happened?" Gerry asks a second after, his voice just the slightest bit shaky still, which Martin would take pride on at any other time. "Are you okay?"

"Why do you insist on leaving your wet towels on the floor?"

"...Oh. Sorry?" Martin can practically hear Gerry's sheepish smile. "In my defense, I mostly lived in motel rooms?"

"Yes, and then you lived with Jon for like seven months." Martin rolls his eyes, straightening back up. "I'm going to have to do something about it."

"Oh, are you? What will you- oompf!" Gerry's low, teasing voice is cut short when the balled up damp towel finds its mark, and Martin closes the door to the bathroom with a satisfied smile.

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

"We should start thinking of what we're going to do, I think." There's something to Martin's voice when he says it that gets Gerry into high alert mode immediately, which is a bit ridiculous, considering they're standing in front of the produce rack at the farm shop while Jon chooses some vegetables.

"About what?" Gerry asks.

"Well mostly I-" Martin stops and clears his throat. "I just-"

Martin stops again, this time with a little chuckle that sounds more nervous than amused. Jon turns around, eggplant in hand and eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Martin?"

"This is probably the weirdest way I've asked 'what are we?' in my life," Martin says after a couple seconds, shaking his head with a smile. "But mostly- are we staying here? At the cottage, I mean."

Oh.

"We can't keep living off of our savings, and I somehow doubt Elias is going to keep paying me and Jon a regular salary," Martin continues far more casually now that he got past the initial awkwardness, seemingly unaware of Gerry's brain blanking. "It does get a lot cheaper with the two of you not needing to eat, but I should probably try and get a job to, you know, feed myself and the like. I guess my question is if you'd rather stay here or go back to London or...?"

Gerry feels his eyebrows raise as what Martin is asking slowly rains down on him. It's- it's one thing to entertain his normal, boring life fantasies, and another one completely to hear someone else voice them.

"Hm. I suppose we do have to return to London eventually, to help look for Daisy." Jon taps his bottom lip with the eggplant's stem. "Whether we stay there or not is another matter entirely, I suppose. I don't really have a preference, Gerry-"

"The carrots won't be ready to harvest until next year," Gerry blurts out when they both turn to look at him. It feels important, for some reason.

These past three months have been a dream, so pleasant and calm Gerry has caught himself thinking on more than one occasion that maybe- maybe he's done, and he can rest now, here at the end of the world with these two.

Maybe he's earned this.

Jon and Martin are still staring at him, the former's eyes are gleaming with something that looks like fondness, and the latter's got a hand up to hide his grin.

"I mean- we can go wherever-" as long as they're together, that is, but he's not about to say that, not after using carrots as his excuse. "Just-"

"He does have a point, Martin." Jon interrupts him with a shrug, coming closer to slot himself under Gerry's arm.

Martin nods sagely. "We can't just leave the carrots."

"Stop," Gerry snorts, shaking his head as Martin comes to lay a kiss on his forehead. I guess that's a yes on the job hunting, then. I could try to get something too."

"Huh." Martin blinks, and his shoulders shake with a little huff of laughter. "Gerry, I think you might be the one person on earth whose CV could look worse than mine, even with the unverifiable previous job."

"What a blast of an interview though, can you imagine? 'It says here you haven't had a job since... Pinhole Books around ten years ago?' 'well yes, I was off stopping terror rituals and killing people, and then I was dead for four years, but I got better.' "

"I think I'd hire you just for having the guts to lie like that," Jon says from under his arm, before accusingly pointing the eggplant at Martin. "And your previous job is hardly unverifiable. I actually think your previous boss would give you a sparkling review."

"The one you killed after he put me in a nightmare dimension?" Martin asks, an eyebrow arched and his lips curled into an amused grin.

"I'm trying to flirt with you, sir," Jon deadpans. His voice has the light, tangy aftertaste of his bittersweet jokes, and Gerry squeezes him a bit against his side.

Martin's grin turns pleased as his face colors slightly, which makes Gerry smile when he realizes Martin was just fishing for the confirmation.

"I could give you a recommendation letter too." Gerry tangles his fingers in Martin's free hand. "Martin Blackwood? Overqualified for any job you throw at him, his only areas of opportunity are the occasional arson in work premises and the fact that he's very bad at keeping people out of his office."

"Certain people," Martin says, butting his forehead against Gerry's with a smile.

"You two are ridiculous," Jon chuckles. "Let's get home already."

Home, the word rings in his chest like a bell, like the heart he wasn't given back but feels the pull of at every waking moment.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

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

The creature -it is shaped like a human, but the hunter knows better, can smell the monster in it- squirms and thrashes in its jaws, though what end it hopes to achieve is a mystery to the hunter, because the only thing it gets for its trouble is for said jaws to clench down tighter around it, until yellowed, long fangs pierce skin and stain red.

It tastes like dirt.

The hunter despises the taste of dirt, and even more so the feeling of it sliding down its throat, far too evocative of another time, another life that might as well have lasted forever, were it not for the prey it let escape, that for some reason came back and clung to it as tightly as the hunter now clings to its newest victim.

Deep down in the hunter's chest something sparks to life at the thought, the memory of thin hands pulling at it even as pointed stones dug into their skin. The prey has a name, or at least it used to.

The hunter shakes its head, trying to rid it if the useless, confusing thoughts.

It too had a name one day, but that does not matter now. It is the hunter, and what it does is to chase, to kill.

It lets go of the broken body between its jaws, just as another scent drifts into its nose.

The hunter changes tracks, and starts the chase again, leaving behind any thoughts of previous prey, named or not.

Jon sighs, blinking the black and white and red of Daisy's vision away.

It's nothing new, he had an inkling of what he'd See even before he looked, but it still hurts. With each day that Daisy passes under the thrall of the Hunt her mind grows more and more distant, far from any reach they could have.

They need to go back to London soon. Between himself, Basira and Gerry, they might be able to pin Daisy's location before she bounces again.

It hurts. Jon is more than aware that after so much fighting to become something else, what dragged Daisy back into the pit she promised to not to return was her fondness for him.

The darkness in the room recedes a little when he opens his eyes again, the green glow casting eerie, menacing shadows out of every unassuming object, like trying to convince Jon he's not the most dangerous being to ever sit in this living room.

Down the little corridor come the sounds of Martin's soft snoring and whatever it is that Gerry's mumbling in his sleep, and Jon sighs. The tape recorder still runs somewhere in the living room, waiting perhaps for a declaration.

"I'm- I'll breach the topic with them tomorrow." He says in the end. Talking to the tapes has always felt grounding. "We just have to find Daisy, and then we'll be free to come back here for however long we want."

For the time being... there's no use in worrying, Jon guesses.

Out the corner of his eye he catches Martin's notebooks on his little table by the window, and he feels his lips arching into a smile despite himself.

They've come a long way from Jon fishing out discarded poetry from garbage bins, he thinks to himself as he pulls one of the notebooks. Thankfully, Martin has said he doesn't mind them reading his things as long as he isn't in the room, so this will make for a nice distraction.

"Good things", Jon reads aloud from the page he opens at random, which he notices has a lot less crossed out sections than the others. Apparently Martin found his words pretty easily after a few stumbles at the beginning. "You'll- you'll have to forgive me, Martin," he tells the recorder, chuckling. "I've never had a voice for poetry, in my opinion. But I'll leave it to the jury to decide."

He clears his throat, holding the notebook open with two fingers, Martin's neat, tight handwriting illuminated in green.

'Good things, by Martin K. Blackwood.

There is something interesting to be said About things that come in threes.

Like coins in a fountain rings to a circus, or stars to Orion's belt, Like three acts parts to a story that is not finished yet.

Why is it that three's a crowd, yet Good things come in three's? People always say hello, Jon. My apologies for interrupting whatever it was that our mutual acquaintance managed to sneak this into, but I thought it better to let her arrange the delivery as she saw fit.

Hopefully this finds you alone; I shouldn't speak ill of a gift from our patron, especially with how well he served his purpose, but as useful as he's been in keeping you alive and encouraging you to develop your powers, your dear Gerard is quite adept at getting in the way, no doubt he gets it from Gertrude. Though I do suppose I should stop underestimating Martin by this point, shouldn't I?

I must admit, I neither expected nor wished to watch him walk out of the fog with you. It is far too late in the game for unwanted variables, but by this point I suppose I must simply sit back and hope that the Mother's blessing is enough to keep him out of my designs.

By this point I suppose you have attempted to stop reading, I don't recommend it, you will only hurt yourself. I thought your little retreat had lasted enough already, and you could use some help getting back into the flow of work.

Let us begin then, just one more, for old times sake.

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

#illicio #jongerrymartin #vit writes #jongerry #gerrymartin #jonmartin

18 notes · View notes

blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

No One Does It Like You Do Dastardly Danny x oc

Hi everyone! This is another Shiki x Danny fanfic that I loved writing (I love writing fighting scenes and also winter atmospheres because it’s so cozy! So this is Shiki again (because I love writing her it’s so much fun) I hope you guys don’t mind and hopefully you can just place yourself into it! @greaser-wolf and I just love going back and forth with her oc and mine and it’s so much fun and she is just so wonderful! I hope you guys enjoy!!

WARNING: There is usage of inappropriate words and adult themes ( such as sexual content that is pass making out)

(Also I know that the Hidden city doesn’t have a sun or moon or even weather but I want them to have an atmosphere XD )

Word Bank:

Big Cheese: Big Boss

We’ve been had- Been tricked or deceived.

Yuck- A foolish or stupid person

Music:

You brought your overcoat closer to you as the chilly breeze started to become quicker and snow started to dart through your vision at an easy pace. You tried to start a match between your hooves as you awaited for Danny and the others to investigate the bar, but after each click there was nothing but empty silence of the mountain.

It has been a hot minute since you’ve done a job somewhere this cold, of course it snowed in the Hidden City, but not like this. With your genetics, the cold wouldn’t really bother you, but without harnessing the true potential of your power, you were left shivering under your several layers of clothes.

The mountain side was gorgeous though, the glistening of the snowbanks shined in the afternoon sun and the yokai’s that lived in the hidden village were enjoying warm beverages and gentle conversations. The white layer under your boots crunched as you continuously moved back and forth to keep warm as your boyfriend was taking a little too long to ask where this polar bear yokai was.

When you were given the opportunity to go after one of the most psychotic war lords by your boss, you just couldn’t say no. But you weren’t given a team in the progress, so one you told Danny about it, him and the rest of the Mud Dogz created a plan to help you, with a small price to pay as well.

You were honestly glad that Danny and the others wanted to join you, not only were they your friends, but you couldn’t really trust your teammates in the force. Too bad that Mickey had to do other business and had to sit this one out.

You finally spotted the usual purple wearing rat in the distance, his long brown coat flapping behind him as a gust of wind danced into town, two thin figures close behind him as they made their way over. Frost dusted over Danny’s whiskers as he came up to you, his hands rubbing each other under his gloves as Nova and Leonard joined as well. Leonard was the most bundled out of all four of you, his green body shivering under the black coat he wore.

Nova seemed to be the only one who enjoyed the weather, her nose twitching every time a flake landed on her.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” The ogre asked, an eyebrow raised as she gave him a sly smile.

“When you’re this hot the cold never affects you.”

“....”

“I’m kidding! I’m a Mountain Fishing Cat, this is my element.”

You rolled your eyes at Nova’s comment and looked up at Danny, who had curled himself up close to your side for any connection of warmth.

“Did you find anything out?” You asked him as Nova and Leonard continued to have their fake argument.

Dastardly Danny shook the excess snow off his shoulders and hat as you watched his breath roll out like a cloud.

“Apparently the Big Cheese is holding up somewhere not far from here, hidden within the mountain,” he said with a low huff, his voice going quiet as a family walked by, their children running around them as they played in the snow.

Till’ then we should rent out a nearby cabin, Len said that there is a renting inn nearby.”

You pulled your beanie tighter onto your head as you let out another quiver, the mountain’s thin air starting to get to you. The rat yokai took notice of your sudden chill and unraveled his large coat and then the smaller one he wore under it, his hands gently placing the toasty coat on you.

“Danny I’m fine-”

“Yes, yes, I know, sugar. But I’m sweating like a hog-”

The look you gave him as you settled the coat on you made him stop in his tracks and an embarrassed look crossed his face and for the first time you actually saw Dan flustered.

“Uh, I meant..What I meant to say-”

“Ha! Danny actually messed up on a slang. Maybe Leonard will be cheerful for once!” Nova purred as she joined the conversation, Leonard right at her heels as they joined in on the full group. It seemed that the comment struck a nerve in the ogre and he looked down at the feline, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Only in your dreams, kitten.”

Woahhhhhhh, where did that come from?

Both you and Danny were in amazement as a dash of red flared against Nova’s face, and it wasn’t from the cold. It was good to see your friend get bashful for once instead of you and you grinned at the sight, taking in the heat and smell from Danny’s jacket. His cologne was trailed with cigarettes and old spice, and the fur that was sewn into the inside rubbed comfortably against your fur.

Danny placed an apology kiss on your head as Nova and Leonard continued to banter back and forth and you took in the soft texture of his mouth as you sucked in an icy breath.

“Alright you two, we’re burning daylight. Let’s rent a cabin,” you ordered, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the relief that flashed in Nova’s multi-colored eyes as she headed towards one of the wooden signs that showed the option of renting out an isolated cabin, her tail curled against her back.

“This is gonna be a long weekend.”

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You four were able to rent a two bedroom cabin that was a few miles out and packed your bags into a waiting car that would drive you to the location. Leonard wasn’t the happiest to hear that they could only get two rooms, and commented that he would sleep on the couch, but Nova kept flinging comments that he didn’t want to cuddle with her.

“We better hope dat’ our room is on the other side of the house,” Danny whispered to you as Nova would turn from her seat from the front to fight back with Leonard.

“So we don’t hear them?”

Danny shot you a sinister smirk as the arm that was wrapped around you tightened itself.

“More like they don’t hear us.”

The surprise that surfaced over your face only fueled the rat more as you squirmed in the car seat, the warm air that was blasted throughout the car was no longer nice, but overly steaming.

The worker checked the cabin for food and cleaning supplies and left instructions if they needed anything.

The wooden cabin was decorated with lemon and wine, candles and lanterns lit up the shack anda fire crackled in the fireplace. The front door brought you to the living room on the left and the kitchen on the right and the stairs were a few feet away right as you walked in. The only thing upstairs was one of the bedrooms and a door in the kitchen led to the other spare bedroom. After searching you all found that the bathroom was under the stairs.

“I’m guessing the couple gets the upstairs room?” Nova asked as she took off her coat and placed it on the coat stand by the door. Danny sent the feline a cocky smile as his hand grazed over your lower hip.

“You betcha.”

Flustered words came out of your mouth as you moved your bags upstairs, almost tripping your way up to keep Danny’s wandering hands and him also trying to carry your bags.

The only thing upstairs was an open room and an extra bathroom, a large king bed laid up against the wall and furry rugs were enriched onto the wooden floor. Dressers and shelves were dotted around the room and all four of you started to unpack and get yourself settled. You undress yourself down from your layers until you only wear a black long-sleeve shirt with a maroon cardigan and elastic jeans to keep you warm.

“Ya sure you don’t need help taking off the rest?”

“You know that Nova and Leonard are downstairs, right?”

“They gotta sleep at one point, darling.”

“And so do we!”

You dodged Danny’s hug attack and skipped down the stairs to the sound of light music humming throughout the cabin. A delicious smell had drifted into the air as you made your way to the kitchen and found Nova sitting on the kitchen counter while Leonard was behind the stove, his fingers working on dinner. You barely heard Leonard telling the feline to not get any fur into the food as Danny came up beside you, his body wrapped in grey long-sleeve and work pants.

The tabby pulled her hair up into a ponytail and continued to read the book in her hands, the cream turtleneck she wore blazed against the fire’s shadow.

You looked over Leonard’s shoulder and saw the rice, herbs, and sauces that were stirring in the pan while he separated an egg yolk from its whites.

“So, can all members of the Mud Dogz cook?” You asked as you sat at the island of the kitchen.

“Mickey is not good at cooking, never ask him to cook for you.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Nah, toots, never eat what that eel cooks up. Not after the meatloaf.”

“Oh don’t even remind me of that day! My stomach still doesn’t sit right after that.”

A confused laugh escaped your mouth as the ogre continued to make dinner, Nova handing him ingredients that he needed while flipping through her book. The melody that came from the bluetooth speaker from the living room swayed into the kitchen, and the cozy and friendly atmosphere made you loosened up as the conversation continued on without you, your body heading to the fridge in search of milk.

The scent of dinner floated around as you dug through the cabinets, Nova moving over when you came around the area she sat. You finally found the hot chocolate packets as Leonard had just finished up the meal, the steam rising from the mixture of rice, vegetables, and potato chips made your stomach growl with hunger.

You set the ingredients you were gathering aside as you four enjoyed the dinner, the cooked egg and spice made your cheeks spill with warmth. There were a few comments thrown here and there, such as going over the plan and what they were gonna do with the money. Your main concern was just getting the guy, Shia Albright, and he was on the top list of criminals for a reason; you just hoped that you and your friends could handle the polar bear yokai.

Apparently your concern was noted because a hand under the table was placed over your thigh.

You looked down and watched as Danny gave your leg a squeeze of reinsurance, his nails digging into the fabric.

It had been several months dating Danny, and you were surprised that it was the most love and happiness you’ve had in a long while. Even with his open book personality, there was still a lot more to uncover from the rat yokai. It was pleasing to learn from Danny, to give him the chance he had been fighting for since the beginning. He was very open to you, with how he felt, what he wanted to do with you. And of course it made you squeal with exhilaration, but you both kept things slow. You were still a cop, and he was still a thief.

After dinner, Nova and Danny did the dishes while you started to make the hot chocolate. Your hooves worked carefully to boil the milk and then get out the whipping cream, happy to find that they also bought the chocolate syrup you had placed on the shopping list.

“You are so washing that pot afterwards,” Nova commented, her paws drying themselves on a cloth after placing the dishes in the drying rack.

“With how good it’ll taste, you’ll be licking the pan clean,” you joked back, pouring the creamy liquid into multiple cups before decorating them with the heavy cream and dark liquid. You found a platter to carry the drinks and you brought them over to the living room, Leonard was in one of the chairs, Danny on the couch, and Nova on the floor. Each of them gave you their own thank you as you let them grab a mug off the tray, leaving it on the floor as you got comfortable next to Danny, your legs curling up to you.

The soft guitar played in the background as snow drifted outside, Nova flipping her nails through her book, Leonard going over the plans notes in his hands, and Danny was holding you tight, one hand held the drink and the other held you. And within the guitar strings and the casual crackle of the fire, the dread that was growing on you was almost unnoticeable. Almost.

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

The summit air was brutal against your fur as you and your group headed up to the hidden factory, your boots making deep imprints in the white ground.

The plan was simple, you had your laser and taser gun, and once you and Danny found the opportunity to get Shia, you would pounce while Leonard and Nova went after the gold they had been mining for in the factory, a lightness spell to carry it was placed on the bag the ogre carried.

It almost seemed that it didn’t matter how many coverings you wore, the winter hands reached around into your body and gripped every nerve ending.

Nova was the only one up ahead, her long legs carrying her easily through the snow as she led up to one of the broken areas of the factory; Leonard had scouted out in the blueprints, the metal and scrap of the building being torn away as if a large animal bit into it. The tabby hopped over one of the uprooted pieces of metal and plummeted into the darkness below and you followed, your feet landing harshly on the metal floor as the boys followed, the only light being seen was a glow stick, the orange glow outlining you and everyone else.

The feline handed Leonard the light stick as he pulled out the layout of the workshop, his footprints leaving weak imprints of snow on the black floor. You tried to flick a flame between your hooves, but all you got was the snapping echo of the aftermath. Ever since the run-in with your dad a month ago, your powers seemed to bury themselves into your body, where you couldn’t even feel the swirling ball of warmth that usually danced in your veins. It almost made you feel useless in situations like this, when the group needed fire, it just seemed like you weren’t the match for it to light.

But your feelings were gonna have to wait as you heard the slightest pitter patter against the metal and you pushed your friends up against the wall in a swift move. One of Shia’s guards walked slowly by, his body decked out in warm armor and a gun was strapped against his chest. The male yokai strolled down the hallway, the flicker of his flashlight slowly dying out and the staircase went silent.

Once the cost was clear, Leonard turned to Danny and handed him a copy of the map.

“Alright, once you have him, meet up at the F2 tower, he should be in his office,” Leonard ordered, even with being in an isolated area, his breath still collected in front of him.

Danny took the extra map and you eyed it at his side. Shia’s office was up several floors, and you both knew that there would be groups of henchmen on lookout. But, with stealth and silence, you and Danny could make it up there effortlessly.

“Stay safe you two,” Nova purred quietly and her and the ogre dashed into the shadows, the only sign of them ever being there was the leftover snow from their bodies drifting off.

You rolled your shoulders as your biceps tensed under the cotton shirt and Danny turned around and handed you the map.

“Lead the way, toots.”

A grin leveled on your face as you took the map and started the walk up the first flight of stairs, your boots eagerly carrying you up, Danny right at your heels. You ran into your first guard at the third floor, the husky yokai let out a yelp of surprise before your fist came into contact with his snout, and then your knee into stomach, and with one single swipe you had your taser in his chest, a loud thud vibrated against your feet as he made contact with the ground.

The next flight had you and Danny taking out multiple guys, both of you darting between crates and mining equipment and you took out yokai’s with your taser and Danny took his fair share out with a knocking out technique.

After minutes of fighting and sneaking around, you both finally made it the top and final floor, the staircase leading straight to Shia’s office.

The hallway that looped to the office was long and dark, the only sound the mirrored around was the old factory settling to its age. Dastardly was flanking you as your fingers grazed over the metal door, the bitterness of the cold traveled from the metal to the inside of your glove. The door was already unlocked from its handle and you pushed it open, the unholy light that dripped out of the room pooling over you like water.

You pointed your gun through the doorway and you took in the large office. The room was cold and white fur littered the ground as you continued further in, Danny’s tail curled in dread as you got closer to the large office chair, the end of the laser gun pushing the leather seat to the side.

No one was there, nothing was there except a half done cigar that sat in an ashtray. Your small brows furrowed in confusion as you placed the gun back in the holster on your thigh as your hands started to dart around his desk.

“He’s...he’s schedule said that he would be here, if he’s not here, then where is he?” You asked out loud. The office had large windows and Danny peaked his head out to watch the soldiers quickly dart around, his arms crossing in question.

You searched his drawers and file cabinets for any information, but even if you did find anything, you still wouldn’t have him in chains.

And then the door slammed shut and the sound of a blockade over it blasted through the cracks.

“Well dat ain’t good,” Danny grunted and the sound of hushed orders and then a slow, irritable ticking clicked throughout the room. Your ears snapped with the rhythm and then the sound of gunfire was heard in the distance.

The clicking was getting faster, and with all the yokai’s running away…

“We’ve been had!”

Danny grabbed your hand and raced over to the furthest window on the left, his hand taking hold of your laser pistol and shot through the clear material until the glass shattered into falling pieces, like icicles hanging off the side of a house. There was a torn edge that led over to a large scissor lift and your boots scrapped over the broken glass, the grey outer layer held your stance steady as the beating of the hidden bombs continued.

“Ladies first!” The rat exclaimed as you both looked at the jump ahead. You sent him a hot glare but got ready and pushed off, one of the blasts from the concealed bombs went off and the heat waved knocked you forward and you landed hard against the platform, the pop in your shoulder caused a grunt to escape your throat.

You got up and looked up at Danny, whose figure was still against the window frame, the blast of the bomb sooted the side of his body.

“Alright, your turn!” You screamed up at him and then let out a wail as the scissor lift groaned under you and the metal bars started to creak under the new weight.

The rat took a step back and with a graceful leap he landed right next to you, his hand instantly pulled the level on the side just as the rest of the bombs started to go off one by one. He blocked his body over you as flying debris exploded around you in a ray of black and orange. The impact of the blast knocked both of you over, sending Danny sliding next you and over the side.

“Danny!”

The hanging platform whined as the weight was shifted over to one side and you scooted over to the ledge, your hand gripping Danny’s wrist before his claws slipped from the ledge. His mass was nothing you were used to, but you were used to him being on your back, not over the side of a dangerous overhang that could collapse any minute. The metal shafting and room was groaning with pain as the pillars and other rooms started to fall apart due to the explosion.

You pulled your other hand around him and stood up, your boosts digging into the black outline of the scissor lift as you brought him back up and before he could thank you the ramp gave way and dropped towards the first level.

Curse words sprinted out of both of your mouths as you held onto the sides as the platform crashed into the floor, sending you both rolling to the opposite side as the destroyed roof rammed into the scissor lift once it hit the bottom.

A fit of coughs lashed out of your mouth as the dust swirled around you, the light creaking of broken metal and fire ringing in your ears as your name was called out.

“Shiki?! Shiki!”

You pushed yourself up and hissed at the small cuts and bruises that were scattered over your body, but you counted your blessings to find no major injuries. The rat’s voice continued to vibrate against the splintered mess.

“Danny?! Are you alright?!” You called to him and then took several steps back as more debris gave way, taking you further away from the wreck and Danny. His voice became muffled and you just had to tell yourself that he was fine, that you needed to meet him and the others at the tower.

Hateful tears sprang in the corner of your eyes as you made your way through the factory, your legs dodging small piles of flames as you started to recognize the area you were in. Of course this plan had failed, this mob boss knew everything about everyone, and he wanted to make sure that the death of you would be a prime example to not go after him. That only gave you more rage, more strength to go after him as you crawled through a small hole created by shattered mining equipment.

You reached for the door in front of you until two forms crashed through it, your body flattening itself against the wall as the two balls of fur ripped each other apart. A cat-like yowl came from one of the forms and you recognized the winter outfit that was torn from battle.

“Nova?!”

The cat then swiped her claws across the wolf yokai’s face that made him let go of her. She pushed herself against the wall and used the hard surface to kick the yokai into one of the multiple holes that lead into the mines, his terrifying howls haunting the rocky surface.

Nova turned to you with an astonished expression, a cut on her head bleeding a trail down her face.

“Are you okay? Where’s Leonard?”

“We got seperated, but he has the gold. What about Danny? And Shia?”

“This was a setup! They knew we were coming.”

Nova frowned as you both started to look for another way out, her tail whizzing back and forth like a strip of rope.

“This wasn’t a setup, another revival gang showed up. Apparently that dumb polar bear thought that he would make his hideout into a trap so he can get rid of them.”

It felt wrong but joy pulsed through your body as you found a torn apart wall that led outside, the light snowfall was now a blizzarding storm. If Shia was fighting against a rival group, then he didn’t know that an officer was here, and you could still get the jump on him.

The feline started to proceed over to the watchtower F2 but you grabbed her hand and tugged on it.

“We can still get Shia! He’ll be so distracted that he won’t see us coming!”

Nova’s eyes flashed down to you and then over to the tower, her left ear flicking with concentration along with her tongue licking off the excess blood from the corner of her mouth.

“Alright, if we can find him under ten minutes.”

You led in the opposite direction and towards one of the gaping holes of the mines, the echoes of gunfire and battle cries filled your ears like music.

The snowstorm was slowly getting worse, the petals now turned into sharp splinters as your vision started to get covered with white. The crunch under your combat boots was barely heard and you could barely feel the metal pathway that was under you, your covered hands holding onto the side as a large gust of wind tried to push you over. The bellow’s of the yokai’s started to get louder and with one flick of your thin ear, you were spinning around to push Nova out of the way from a hidden attacker.

“Look out!”

The female snow leopard leapt onto you, her claws shredding out of her gloves and into your coat and a low hiss growed out of her white throat. Your hooves wacked into her nose as you pressed yourself further into the railing and with the yokai’s extra burden of weight the rusted pipes gave way and folded over, taking you and the henchmen with you.

“Shiki!” Nova called for you but it was barely heard as you and the snow leopard rolled through the snow and down the slope, away from the factory and the watchtower. Even with the smooth snow to impact your tumble, the frozen floor underneath still stabbed itself into you as you both came to a sliding halt.

Your body was freezing now, the cold hands of winter grasping over your form and it took all your strength to raise yourself up. Far from the factory, you and the female snow leopard had landed over a frozen lake, ice holding your weight easily as the war around you continued. Not far from the lake were several military vans and henchmen shooting bullets and arrows at two hidden figures behind separate crates.

“Danny! Leonard!”

The two yokai turned at the sound of their names and spotted you. Leonard had a few cuts scrapped over his body and his shirt was torn while Danny was covered in more soot than before and his hat was gone, but both seemed relatively fine. When the rat caught sight of you, a gust of comfort filled his hollow lungs to see that you were still breathing. His hand planted against the crate he was behind to get up but he instantly lunged back down when more ammo was shot at him.

You made a step towards him but a blur of chalk pounced for you out from nothingness, her claws tearing up the ice surface like nails against a chalkboard. You dodged a swipe from her and then a kick with your hands, your hands going for the laser pistol from your thigh but the flexible feline broke it out of your grip, the weapon skating over the frozen water.

Jeez! Is every cat yokai like this?

She drove you further into the middle of the lake, your boots having trouble keeping friction over the slippery exterior while the snow leopard didn’t wear any form of shoe except for her pants connecting with the middle of her paws, but it kept her upright as she continued to chase you.

Nova, if you can hear me right now, know that you and I are having a fighting session once this all over!

The woman jumped for you and you swiftly moved to the side, and with one kick of your foot it sent the leopard back to the bank of the lake, her face going straight into a pile of snow near the battle Danny and Leonard were in. You couldn’t help but smirk at the small victory, but a pair of azure eyes poked from the heap of white, fury marking the snow leopard’s face as she looked around.

Near her was a minecart filled of pickaxes and safety hats and her paws swaddled one of the weapons, a wicked smile on her face as she neared the lake once again and with one hit she stabbed the axe into the frozen glass and millions of broken cracks surfaced and the watery hell took you down.

“SHIKI!”

Danny was on his feet as you disappeared into dark liquid, the clumps of ice drifted around the spot you had fallen into. Leonard was by his side now and as the rat started to race towards the lake, the ogre tackled him and rolled them both behind a tree as the polar bear’s henchmen started to make their way closer.

“Are you crazy?! You can’t survive that temperature! You’ll also die before you get there!”

“Get off of me you bloody yuck! She will drown!”

Before Danny was going to elbow his friend right in the jaw, a pair of legs jogged right past them and they glanced up to see Nova racing towards the half-ruined lake, her arms quickly working off her two layers of coats and her cream turtleneck until her grey thermal showed. She then hopped over the snow leopard yokai and took the pickaxe from her grey paws, her momentum slamming the ax into the shattered ice until a large enough hole was created and the Mountain Fishing cat jumped in without another thought.

“What is wrong with these girls?!” Leonard exclaimed as he let Danny go and knocked out a guy who came too close, his fingers taking control of the rifle the henchmen had in his talons.

Danny could hardly hear the leader as he searched over the lake, trying to find your figure drifting in the cold liquid.

He had never felt fear like this, as if he was the one drowning instead of you. He ignored the ongoing dogfight around him as every second that ticked by felt like lifetimes. With how shattered the pool of water was, the rat yokai saw how strong and recentless the current was underneath, the tide pushing up against anything it could get its grasp on. Including you.

And then him and Leonard saw it. It was barely visible but a white paw came crashing out of the ice on the other side of the lake, the enlarged nails broke into the ice like an anchor and created long marks as the creature heaved itself out.

Danny felt his friend next to him lose his breath as Nova broke the surface, water droplets falling down her hair and fur as she pulled herself out of the water, and in her arms was a waterlogged you, steam rolling off both of you as your friend dragged you out.

The men didn’t have to have sonic hearing to hear the feline’s grunts as she dragged you over to the shore, Nova’s paws working on your chest as she performed CPR.

Danny’s body hurdled into action as he stole the gun out of Leonard’s hands and shot at the criminals crowding them, his dead-eye like aim taking out over four before he started to haul ass over to you and Nova, not even giving Leonard a heads up as the black-haired stared dumbfounded at the rat before joining the retreat.

You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t taste or see anything, all you felt was the cold. It violated you and suffocated you as you felt the water slush around in your lungs. And then the pressure, something or someone was placing pressure on your filled lungs to the point your chest couldn’t take it anymore and you perked up, your head turning over to vomit up the lake water you had swallowed.

You could barely open your eyes as you tried to take in your surroundings, but it was so cold, why was it so cold?

“Shiki! Shiki are you alright?!”

A bubbly groan came out of your waterlogged throat and you thought to yourself that you would never drink water again and that you hated winter. Your head was exposed to the elements and you realize that your beanie was gone.

Your dark eyes were able to open to peer up, the flakes of snow coating your eyelashes. Nova was soaked leaning over you, her fur drooped with the soggy water and her whiskers started to become white. But another figure was coming into your vision and as you tried to warn your friend, all that came out was a backbreaking shiver.

The cat then let out a cry as she was grabbed and tossed to the only unbroken part of the lake and all you could do was watch in horror as the snow leopard started to attack your friend, nothing protecting Nova except her thin thermal shirt and her own wits.

Nov...Nova,” you shivered out and your hand reached up as the evil leopard took a hold of Nova’s neck and slammed her into the ice, the fragile solid breaking under her. Hands were wrapped around you now and your freezing hand went for your taser but the familiar and tender scent of Danny wafted your senses.

“Dann...Danny?”

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.”

“No..Nova needs..”

“Leonard has it handled, we need to get ya outta here.”

The yokai lifted you up easily, the crisp drops of water that fell from your clothes barely made it to the ground as they froze. Even with your head making contact with the rat’s soft fur, it was almost nothing against your frozen skin and stiff fur.

As your boyfriend carried you deeper into the woods, you turned your head and spotted Leonard and Nova not far behind, the bitter color of crimson dripped from Nova’s claws and Leonard’s hands.

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You all four made it back to the cabin in one piece and Nova was quick on getting her boots off and looking over at you.

“Danny, I need you to go and take off her clothes.”

“I’m sorry? What?”

“Because if she sits in those wet clothes she’ll get hypothermia! And then she can die! So take her upstairs and get her undressed and in a new pair of clothes!”

You could tell Nova was panicking, when her voice rose over and past a joking manner you knew she was nervous and you could hear her dive into the kitchen and started to search. You wanted to argue that you were fine, but you found no power behind your muscles and all you could do was give a little cry of pain as your body was pounded with the cold.

When Danny made it up to your room he sat you on the bathroom floor and started to derope you. His fingers scrambled over the black coat, and then the green overcoat, the maroon cardigan and then your black sweater was all off. You were cold to the touch and your brown fur was dyed to a darker oak. Even with the cold layers off of you your body reacted violently against it and your arms wrapped around yourself. Danny felt his heart shatter like the lake that consumed you and placed a small kiss on the top of your head, as if he was afraid you would break with just one touch.

You had to help him take off the two layers of pants you wore until you laid almost nude in front of him and the harsh flush of warmth crossed your face, but it just made you feel a lot more sicker. The rat saw the temperature in your face change and he got up and to your dresser, not one flash of emotion came across his face as he headed a new outfit for you.

“You got this, call if ya need me,” he whispered silently to you and then left the bathroom and leaned against the wall next to you.

You couldn’t but try to roll your eyes as you tried to ease your bra off. Even in a life or death situation he was still going to be a gentleman towards you. It was hard though, the cold undergarment clinged into you like glue and it took you several minutes to even get both of them off. You threw the wet clothes aside and placed the ones Danny had handed you and the cotton grey long-sleeve and black leggings under sweatpants were on after drying yourself off.

You could still feel the sickness trying to settle on you and a sneeze blew out of your face.

“Gesundheit.”

“You..you speak german?”

“And french, if you’re catching my drift.”

A laugh curled out of your throat but it came out in a fit of coughs. From the restroom you heard Nova call for Danny and his light footsteps drifted away from the room and down the stairs.

Nova and Leonard were in new clothes and the only evidence of Nova falling into the lake was the dampness in her fur and the silent shiver that drove through her body every few minutes.

“Okay, keep her warm and under blankets. No placing her in hot water either.”

“Rag-a-muffin, why are ya telling me this?”

“Leonard is coming with me to find elderberries, it will help make a beverage that will make her feel better and push away any case of fever. But you need to bring her temperature up.”

“And how am I supposed to do dat’?”

“You’re her boyfriend, figure it out.” The feline joked and slammed the front door.

Danny, for the first time in his life, felt an awkward hotness in his stomach as he headed up the stairs to find you curled up in the bed, the vicious shakes that erupted under the sheets made your boyfriend worry, and then Nova’s words came in mind.

The snowfall had slowed down to a gentle delay and the cabin was sprinkled with the light sugar. Danny started the fireplace that was settled in your room, his calloused hands throwing the pieces of firewood into the hungry flame.

His frame floated over to your trembling form and joined you under the blankets, his hands wrapping around you and you instantly curled into his chest, your hooves digging into his back as you tried to absorb every ounce of warmth he had to offer. A rough chuckle vibrated against your head and you buried yourself into his exposed chest fur. Danny placed a soft kiss on your head, and then your cheeks, and then the tip of your snout, and he waved his hand under your chin to look up at him and he kissed you.

The contact from his lips sent a jolt of fire into your throat and you took in the kiss with every pint of strength you had left. But when his body jostled to where he was hovering over you, one hand holding himself up next to your head and the other holding your head up to meet his, you realized the eagerness behind each kiss and release.

His body was over you now, his legs tangled with yours as you sunk further into the mattress, his fingers playing with the tufts of fur behind your head as you felt your heart rate pick up rapid speed. Your hooves held onto his back as he continued to tease you with each feverish kiss, with each touch over your curves and muscle. And as he peppered kisses up your jawline and near your ear, a growl full of R’s rolled into your eardrum.

You instantly had to close your legs as your very core was rocked and you no longer felt cold as heat traced itself throughout your body. He had never growled to you before, especially rolling his R’s like that. This man always had something under his sleeve, but at this moment, you couldn’t think straight, as if every peck of his mouth and the hands that advanced over you made you braindead. The keenness in his movements as his snout started to make its way down your neck created a moan out of your mouth, your voice raspy and needy.

Another hust growl went against your throat and you shivered, and your heart bounced in your ribcage when you realized that it wasn’t from the cold, and that this male was going to heat you up like a oven. His hands were slowly riding up your shirt, his nails tenderly digging into your fur and his thumb doing slow and taunting circles under your chest.

He was teasing you and you squirmed under his hold, but a feather-like moan popped out of your mouth as his teeth grazed your throat and shoulder.

“Danny,” you breathed out and you felt the mammal over you tense up and he stopped, a savage-like look in his eyes as he took in the shameless sight of you. The redness was peaking out of your fur and your chest heaved with pressure and he took a large notice with how your legs were crossed.

“Say it, doll.”

You knew what he wanted you to say, you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

“Please.”

He was on you like a cat on a mouse, his large build practically swallowing you whole as he took full control. The rat was a sucker for you, almost like a kid in a candy store, wanting to have every single bite. He effortlessly started to mark you as his, the small little squeals that started to rise into the house made his blood pump and you were pushing up against him now, chestnut fur flushed against oak fur as you both tried to get closer to each other. His hands were fully under your shirt now and your neck was covered in small little black spots, all perfectly lined up as the rim of his mouth went for the hollow of your throat and your spine bending to give him full access to your body.

You honestly didn’t care if Leonard and Nova came back early, the heat that rushed through you like water through a pipe was almost too much to bear and you felt himself bump up against you and a heartful gasp came out.

Oh gosh he was too much for you, the senses he spiked within your body was a remedy you never thought you needed.

His warm hands felt good against your chest and you groaned into his mouth, his own vocals sending a growl in return. You were sweating now as you escaped to get a breath of air and you could feel the hot pants from Danny as he left more love marks on you, much lower than your neck. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet and your tail wiggled with ecstasy as his hands spread your legs apart so he could get closer, his large mitts now explored your back and your rump.

You both were burning under the blanket and the fire felt like nothing against your heated fur, you felt like you could be rubbing up against the sun for all you know.

Danny had you pressed against the headboard now, and every vibration from your thighs or your arms when he touched you made him want you more, he desired you more. The hunger and ache he had for you was beyond unbearable and having you to himself without work or anyone getting in the way was paradise.

The bruises under your skin ached but Danny’s hands were gentle over the purple areas and he was gentle with you and... The emotion that roared in your heart was stabbing you, pinching at your lungs as you continued to kiss Danny, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth and you gladly accepted it. And between the kisses and the cries of pleasure that was spilling out both your mouths, you let out the holy words that he had wanted to hear from you since the day you started dating.

“I love you, Dan.”

The male rat stopped in his tracks and looked down at you, surprise spinning in his eyes as he looked down at you and you swore you saw his eyes flash with heartache. You were so out his league, he would always believe that you were better off without him. You wouldn’t have to worry about your job, you wouldn’t have to stress over the idea of being caught with him, but you stayed with him, you cared for him, and now you loved him.

His hand caressed your cheek and you were practically putty in his hands as he said against your mouth.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

And he told you that over and over as he undressed you once again.

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The next morning was hard to wake up too. You woke up the burning glint of the sun over the snow and you went to roll over but you were held as if prisoner. Strong arms were around you and soft snoring was brushed up against your back. Flashes of last night danced through your head and the heat between your legs started to flicker again. You unraveled yourself from his hold and placed his forgotten long-sleeve shirt over yourself and your sweatpants and headed downstairs.

It was quiet in the lodge and there was no sign of Leonard on the couch, you walked over to Nova’s door and the shocked gasp couldn’t stop itself as you saw the ogre curled up with the feline, her body rolled up in a ball next to his sleeping figure.

You could only imagine the awkwardness once one of them woke up and you tiptoed back to the kitchen to find a wine-colored drink on the counter with a note.

“Dear Shiki, drink this once you wake up, but by how the cabin was shaking and how you were hollering like you were dying, I’m guessing you might not need this ;). Love, Nova”

Humiliation rolled in your stomach as you took a few sips of the drink, your fist pounding against your chest once you realized that it was an alcoholic beverage. You would give anything to just have a cup of coffee.

You headed back upstairs and for a split second, you remembered why you were truly here. Shia had gotten away, and even though it was a successful heist, it was a failure of a bounty hunt. You felt shame hit you as you failed your mission to get the polar bear. But once you made it up the stairs and saw Danny laying in the spot you had been sleeping in and his hand hanging off the side of the bed as if going after you, waiting for you.

It might’ve been a failure of a job, but you won something today, you won him.

And as you opened up the blankets and let his arms once again entrap you, you felt like the only thing you failed at was not telling him sooner.

#rottmnt #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #rottmnt mud dogz #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt dastardly danny x reader #rottmnt danny x reader #rottmnt loathsome leonard #tmnt #rottmnt reader x mud dogz

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cialbi · 3 years

Text

Boy With Hope: Lavender - Chapter One

Summary: As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared from above you. Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Alcoholism

A/N: This is going to be part of a series called “Boy’s With Series.” Hoseok’s story is going to be the first part out of seven. I don’t know what order I’ll do the other boys in, but I already have their themes and such chosen out. So enjoy the prologue!

⤎Previous

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'Fuck that hurts.'

You buried your face into your pillow, the roaring headache that crashed through your skull roused your sleepy conscious. A faint gust of air blew through your room, tickling your skin and making you shift to find warmth deeper under the covers. From outside you could hear the rush and beeps of cars as they raced by on the city streets and the voices of pedestrians signaled that the world was coming back to life.

You groaned, rolling over on your side. The throbbing in your head was like a symphony of anguish that blared in your brain as you cracked a sleep-caked lid open.

Neon green numbers flashed through bleary eyes: 7:00am.

'What happened?'

A little disoriented, it took you a moment to come to.

You were drinking last night. Something had definitely triggered you... you came home... dropped your keys... tripped over some shit... drank some more... and then....

Oh no.

What did you do?

Then, all at once, like a movie reel in your head, you recalled the events in which lead up to now.

You'd lost your job.

Again.

You could practically see the angry face of your boss as he fired you, and you couldn’t help the churning ache of embarrassment that welled in your gut.

“Unacceptable, Y/N!” He had vociferated. “You’re tardy everyday, you look like a mess and you reek of booze! Collect your things immediately, I don’t want to see you in here ever again!”

Ugh. The shame.

It was something you should be used to by now, getting fired and all--but alas you didn’t do well with shame. You didn’t do well with any sort of negative emotion, so you had fixed it with the only solution you knew how.

Booze, booze and more booze.

You could smell the murk of the musty bar you had holed into, the horrified expressions of other bar-goers watching you as you downed your fifth drink of the night. You could remember how you stumbled home like a hot mess of sweat and the way your room reeked of garbage and alcohol.

You sniffed.

Funny.

It doesn't smell so bad now.

Kind of... floral?

Adjusting your position, you gave a grunt of discomfort. There was something poking at your side, so you reached under the covers and searched until your hands clasped around something smooth and cylindrical. You retracted your arm and pulled out the plastic orange pill container, staring at it blankly.

What was that doing there?

You rotated it in your hands, the morning sun casting an apricot shadow across your face. Klonopin. When did you....? Weird. You didn't remember picking up your prescription from the drug store. The drug store...

Oh wait.

And then you did.

It was all coming back now. The pills, the wine, the way your heart slowed and your body went limp. The glowing purple lights. What the fuck were those? And a boy, there was a boy floating through the ceiling. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Damn, what a high.

So you finally tried to do it, and it looks like you failed. An unfamiliar sensation crawled beneath your skin, causing you to shudder. So much guilt... and so much shame. You didn’t know whether you wanted to cry or scream as you gazed nonchalantly at the little pill bottle, swiping your fingers over the plastic.

Fuck.

You really fail at everything.

Even killing yourself.

It was a little sobering, in fact. And you used the word sobering, because you hadn’t expected to wake up the next day. Hadn’t expected to deal with the aftermath or the complicated emotions attached to it. You hadn’t been prepared for it.

Sighing deeply, you ran your fingers through your hair, feeling a bit of chunks and stickiness towards the ends. You eyed the area near your pillow, but it was clean. Again, weird. There was no vomit on your sheets. You sat up, eyes grazed over the white cotton fabric but finding no sign of regurgitated food.

Then you noticed your room. It was completely clean.

All the garbage, clothes and bottles were gone, and there was a certain sparkliness to your apartment that you hadn't seen in a long time. If it weren't for the little cat statue on your nightstand that your mom had given you for your birthday, you would have sworn you woke up in someone else's house.

Maybe someone broke in?

You gave a snort. Yeah, right, a burglar that breaks into apartments and cleans them.

Then, maybe you had cleaned up during your high. You'd done weirder things under the influence--many that didn’t involve clothes--so you couldn't completely write that off as a possibility, right?

A jolt to your muscles had you groan again. A kind of nauseating pain coursed through your body and the raging headache echoed in your ears. Nope. No way. There was no way your body could have even moved in the state that it was in.

So cross that off the list.

Ok so, a burglar broke into your apartment, stole all your garbage and stinking clothes, then cleaned up the place and left? That sounded even more ridiculous. You didn't have many valuables, and you couldn't imagine that anyone would touch your clothing by how bad they smelled. An ordinary robber would have taken one look at your place and slammed the door.

You rubbed your temples, your mind too foggy to think anymore coherent thoughts. Ugh. Whatever. I feel like shit, I can’t think like this.

The sudden need to be clean overtook you, so you swung your legs over the side of your bed and stood, deciding on a shower and maybe some food to help wash out the toxins that were swirling around in your stomach. If you even had any edible food left in your kitchen. Your stomach gurgled in anticipation.

Yeah, some food and a shower. After that, you could figure this shit out.

Shoulders slumped, you padded over to your bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the immediate image of yourself reflected in the mirror above your sink.

You were unnaturally pale, almost green, and your long, tangled hair was sticking up in all directions. There were splotches of red stained into your baggy white t-shirt, which made it look like you had murdered someone with a knife. But what was most prominent were the swollen black bags sunken deeply beneath your eyelids.

Wow, suicide does wonders for the complexion. You joked darkly to yourself, pinching your cheeks a little too hard before opening your bathroom cabinet to find a towel.

When you couldn’t find one, you cursed quietly and slammed the lean, rectangular door shut. Your stomach growled again and the sickness followed. Fuck the shower, let’s go eat something. You were almost out of shampoo anyway.

Exiting the bathroom, you mused to yourself about the options of what you could eat. What you were really craving was something spicy, maybe some instant noodles with sriracha--though, you knew for today that would be nothing more than a culinary fantasy.

Spending most of your money on booze and take-out, you didn’t go to the grocery store often. Hell, you barely scraped enough dough to pay the bills, and now you didn’t have a job to support either expenses. You’d be lucky if there was even a piece of rotting fruit left in your fridge.

By now, your stomach was screaming at you for some type of sustenance, so with low expectations, you dragged your feet towards your kitchen. Rotten fruit it is.

You’ve had worse meals.

As you approached, you noticed the light was on in the kitchen. A yellow glow illuminated from beneath the doorframe, mixing with the sunshine that poured in from outside. Huh. That’s strange. You definitely remembered the pitch black of your room when you stumbled in last night.

Then you smelled it.

The faint scent of bacon wafted through your nose and your tummy gave an approving growl. The nausea, on the other hand, poked at your gut and graciously reminded you of the severe pain you were in. The contrasted feelings almost made you forget that there shouldn't be any smells coming from your kitchen seeing as you had been in bed, not in your kitchen, and most certainly not cooking.

The smell was followed by a clattering of pans, and a hushed “dammit!” could be heard from inside.

You froze.

Someone was still here.

And they were cooking in your kitchen.

Slowly, as to not make a sound, you inched towards your bedside table and picked up your desk lamp. How that could possibly defend you from an intruder, who knows, but it was all you had ready and available. Honestly, you had no idea in hell what you were doing--no one’s ever broken into your apartment before--but you were hoping for the best. So you raised the lamp like a baseball bat and tip-toed towards the door of your kitchen. It was open a smidge, and the sound of cheerful humming seeped out through the crack.

A burglar that cleans rooms, makes breakfast and has a love for Mariah Carey. Huh.

You peaked around the door, gripping your desk lamp until your knuckles whitened and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to confront a burly, black-clad thug. Maybe with some tattoos and a ski-mask. Or, worst case scenario, a gun. The thought heightened your pulse.

Hesitantly, you took a small step inside.

There was only so much that could have prepared you for what you actually saw in your kitchen.

A strikingly gorgeous, tall looking man with bright orange hair was dancing around the room, flipping some fried eggs in one of your blue, non-stick frying pans. Around his waist, your frilly pink apron was tied in a neat little bow, which contrasted humorously with his toned muscles and manly build. He looked lost in his own little world, lashes cast downward as his lips made music and, for a moment, you were completely enchanted.

He's a friggen intruder! Bash his head in while you have the chance! You internally screamed, though you couldn't find it in yourself to move.

Without looking at you, the orange-haired, completely white-clad burglar cracked a smile. "Good, you're awake!"

Startled, you stepped back and raised the lamp in defense, your pulse rising to an infinite level.

He put down the pan and turned off the stove gas, rummaging through your cupboard for a plate. He was acting as if he lived here, knowing where all your things were, and for a second you wondered if he was a family friend, maybe someone your parents sent to make sure you weren't dead. Though, no-one in your family had a key to your apartment and you would most certainly remember knowing someone with such a beautiful and distinct face.

The mysterious, humming man plated the eggs and forked some bacon on top, already cooked and perfectly greasy. He turned towards you, grinning a smile that made you blink. He’s got the sunniest smile you had ever seen. The combination of his smile, his sparkling eyes and the elegant lines of his face disoriented you.

He’s really gorgeous.

And really tall.

And moving right towards you.

Backing up, you swiped your eyes over his entirety. You wouldn't stand a chance in hell against this guy. He may not be burly or tattooed, but he was about two times your weight, and had at least a foot on you in height. Oh yeah and he wasn’t hung-over as fuck. All he would have to do was shove you with one hand and you would finally meet your maker.

Alarmed, you raised the lamp as high as you could and pointed it at him threateningly. You did your best to look big and scary, but you knew you probably looked like nothing more than a scared little animal cowering from its prey.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He cooed at you. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?" You hissed. Your arms were shaking and your voice squeaked a few octaves too high. This was going great.

He looked at you, then at the lamp clasped in your hands, then back at you. Then he smiled again, eyes squinting sweetly.

"My name's Hoseok. You must be hungry!” He wiggled the plate of food. “Here, I made breakfast." His voice was so cheerful that it took you aback. Obviously, he was not at all threatened by you or your weapon of choice. You lowered the lamp slightly and sniffed. It smelled fucking great.

You eyed the plate of food, your stomach betraying you by letting out a monsterous growl. Then the nausea followed and you groaned.

His face fell. "Hmm, I thought I took away most of the pain, but I guess it wasn't enough."

The mysterious intruder turned to place the plate of food on your kitchen table, then whirled back around and began a slow walk towards you, hands outstretched.

"Stay back!" You warned, raising the lamp again and shaking it in his face.

The orange-haired man lowered his hands in defense. "Just let me fix it." He said, continuing his approach.

You looked at the lamp and then back at him, giving him a once over and weighing your options. You could try and land a hit, hoping to create enough time to make a break for it, but also risking angering him, or you could cut your losses now and run.

The latter sounded good.

Squealing in fear, you dashed back into your bedroom, ready to burst out the front door of your apartment and run like a mad-woman until you found some help. But another shot of nausea mixed with fatigue had you hurdling belly first onto the floor. Your knee slammed hard against the wooden surface and sent the lamp skidding out of your hands.

“Fuck!” You cried, curling in on yourself. Your kneecap burned with a searing, fiery pain.

“Are you ok?” His voice came from above you, and when you looked up, you were met by his chocolate brown eyes staring down at you with worry. His beautifully sculpted legs were like skyscrapers, ascending from the ground right in front of your face, and you wondered how fast he could run if you tried to escape now.

"Fuck no! Fuck you! Fuck!” You yelped, forcing yourself up and scrambling gracelessly into the safety of your bed covers. Your knee screamed at you, throbbing angrily at the unwelcomed movement, and suddenly you found yourself undoubtedly screwed. Even if you tried now, you definitely couldn’t outrun this attractive, long-limbed man.

"Don't come any closer!" You cried, the rush of adrenaline making you dizzy. Call the police! Gotta call the police! Or someone, someone that might care that I’m in trouble.

You found it a little funny. Just hours ago, all you had wanted to do was die, swallowed a whole flipping pill bottle to do it. But now that the perfect execution of death had appeared right before you, all you had been trying to do since was find some way to live through it. Irony is a bitch.

He inched towards you carefully with his hands raised. "Look, I know this must seem..." He paused, fishing for the right word, "...peculiar. But I promise I mean you no harm."

"Tell that to the police!" You screeched, combing your bed for your phone but came up empty.

Oh.

Yeah.

Your eyes widened. Shit. It was in your pants pocket, which you had flung somewhere across your room last night. Looking around frantically, you remembered your clothes had mysteriously disappeared. "Where are my clothes? What did you do with them?"

He lowered his hands, biceps flexing deliciously. "Ah! No, don't worry, they're right over there!" He pointed to the corner of your room where your pink, plastic laundry basket was filled to the brim with neatly folded clothes. "I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but seeing as you were sleeping for the past two days, I took the liberty of washing them. They were quite smelly. You really should--”

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, cutting him off completely. I’m sorry, what did he say?? The clothing aside, your eyes almost popped out of your head. "Two days!? Wait. You've been in my room for two days?” You felt sick. Your head began to spin and your stomach clenched as ripples of pain ripped through your muscles. You fell into yourself, clutching your scalp so hard it could have bled, and let out a long, guttural “fuuuuucckkkkkk.”

"Hey, let me help you! I can take the pain away!" He stepped forward, his hands stretched out again towards you, his fingers almost close enough to brush against the skin of your wrist.

You recoiled away from him. "And how could you possibly do that?"

He sighed, looking exhausted. "Just trust me."

Biting back a laugh, you snapped at him. "Trust you? A strange man who broke into my apartment, touched my stuff without permission and claims he can just magically take away my pain? No way, you’re a total psycho!"

A totally hot psycho.

Another wave of nausea swept through you and you grabbed your stomach, trying to keep your insides from exploding out onto the mattress. Then, faster than your mind could comprehend, he was suddenly right beside you, knelt with one knee at your bedside, his eyes pleading.

"I can tell it really hurts. Please, let me help you." From this distance you can see how deep chocolate his eyes are, like perfectly round cocoa beans swimming with genuine concern. Time seemed to slow, and you found yourself enchanted by him again.

It should be a crime for anyone to look this good.

Are you kidding me!? It’s a crime for him to be here in the first place!

All the signs were pointing to 'crazy guy,' but on top of your immense trepidation, your body was rejecting you and your will to fight back began to flutter away. You curled yourself up so tight that not even a crowbar could ply you apart.

Fine, he could kill you. You were ready for it.

You shut your eyes tight as he reached for your fetal form. This was it, this was how you were going to die; by the hands of a majestic intruder who makes eggs and bacon and says he has magic powers. What a way to go, eh? You tried to imagine your family's faces. Would they even miss that you were gone? Would they cry for you? Would anyone care that you were dead? You waited. And waited.

But nothing happened.

You peaked an eye open, but he was just sitting there, a single hand in front of your face, so close that you could see the lines that ran across the skin of his palm. He looked at you with that oddly cheerful expression, the ends of his orange bangs kissing the tips of his long, voluminous lashes. "I'm going to touch you now."

He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he abruptly placed his hand around your forehead. An extraordinary tingling sensation raced through you, a kind of warm feeling like those first few minutes of soaking in a scalding hot bath. You felt the pain lift from your aching bones, like his hand was soaking up the anguish and leaving you with nothing but bliss and relaxation.

Then he removed his soft grip, a satisfied smile gracing his pretty pink lips.

"How's that?" He asked, sitting back.

You blinked, trying to register what just happened. The pain was gone, and all you could feel was a sense of clarity and a warmth that pooled comfortably in your once flippant stomach.

As it all began to sink in, you freaked. Like totally, completely, flipping freaked out. "What the fuck? Oh my god, what was that? WHAT WAS THAT?" You screeched, slapping his hand away and scooching back into the corner of your bed.

He looked a little hurt. "It's a gift I have." He explained matter-of-factly. "I'm an angel."

You blinked at him.

Excuse me, what?

Hello crazytown. Toot toot, the psycho train just arrived at the station, number of passengers: one incredibly hot, orange-haired mad-man.

You laughed besides yourself. "An angel? You gotta be shitting me! You expect me to believe that? Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Hoseok, I told you." He answered.

You brought your knees closer, looking him square in the eyes. "Ok, Hoseok the angel. What psychward did you escape from?" Oh let me guess. "Heaven?"

Hoseok chuckled at that. "Not exactly."

The deep-cut white V-neck he was wearing dipped dangerously low around his neck, exposing a well defined collar-bone and a hint at a sculpted chest. His body was littered with silver jewelry that jingled with every slight movement he made; a detailed silver cross that dangled from around his neck, and another, simpler, one from his left ear. Man this guy is full of it.

"What are you doing here?" You repeat.

Hoseok gave a faint sigh. "Isn't it obvious already?" He touched the cross around his neck and thumbed it with belletic fingers. "I'm here to help you."

"Yeah, you said that already. Help me with what?" You snapped.

All you had wanted to do was die peacefully.

And now you're stuck with this shit.

Where the fuck is this guys social worker?

You were suddenly feeling pretty grumpy, but somehow no longer threatened.

Leaning forward, Hoseok touched your hand softly, the little chained bracelets around his wrist glinting against the light. "You've lost all hope in your life, and I'm here to help you find that hope again." Well that the hell do you say to that?

What felt like hours passed as you kept your eyes locked to his, searching for any sign of insanity or deception, but found none. The smoothness of his ivory skin and his complacent expression revealed no ill intentions and for the first time you felt yourself give in to him a little. He was so earnest, you actually trusted he wasn’t here to hurt you, and the warmth of his skin on yours elated a sort of calm you hadn’t felt in a... well god knows when.

Even so, you retracted your hand from his hold.

"I don't need help." You mutter, almost to yourself. "I'm doing just fine, thank you."

Hoseok frowned. His elegant features looked wrong with such an expression. "It certainly didn't look like it Y/N."

You gasped, your stranger-danger reflexes kicking into high gear. It was like you had completely forgot you were talking to a total nut-case. "How do you know my name?"

"Are we going to do this all day?" He mumbled, a slight pout replacing his previous grimace. "I told you, I'm an angel. Your angel to be exact."

"And what? Does being an angel give you super psychic powers?" You spat back.

He considered this for a moment, but shook his head, unfazed by your tone of voice. "No. I was instructed to find and aid a Y/N L/N. That's you."

What the hell does that even mean? 'Instructed to find you?' And what? Break into your home, spew some crazy nonsense and scare the living daylights out of you? You sneered, pivoting in your seat to create some distance. "And who instructed you to do that? God?"

Hoseok looked thoughtful, wrinkling his nose and gazing up at the ceiling. "No... not exactly."

Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?

You took a moment, clenching your eyes shut and rubbing your head which had begun to ache again. "Ok, so, let's say---for a second--that I believe you, which I don't, but for your sake let's say I do. Why in the hell would anyone send an angel to help me?"

Hoseok launched forward, his face inches from your own and his good looks nearly blinding you. The silver cross around his neck beat against his chest as he exhaled, examining your face closely. His features were scrunched in a look of curiosity and rejection. "So you don't believe me?"

You pulled away from him, using your tiny hands to shove his face a safe distance from your own. "No! Of course not! Do you understand how crazy you sound?"

With a thrust of his wrist, he shot himself into a standing position, towering over you like a giant. "Ok. Hold on."

“Hold on for what?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

You didn't know what to expect, maybe some arm flapping, or some more weird dancing--you might not have complained if he took off his shirt. What you didn't expect were for two huge, lavender wings to sprout from his back, unfolding to occupy nearly half of your tiny apartment bedroom. They glimmered iridescently, almost see-through. Little orbs of shining light poured from his chest as he turned in a circle so you could get a good look at him.

"Holy shit." Were the only words you could manage as you stared, transfixed.

The strange dream you had suddenly crashed into your brain as you remembered the glowing purple lights that poured into your room, and the floating boy that had descended from your ceiling.

‘Don’t give up yet!’ He had called out to you.

There’s a cool sensation against your skin as you recall the vast, open body of water that you had stood in. The one where lavender grew from beneath and the smell had overwhelmed your senses.

That was a dream, wasn’t it?

‘There’s so much to live for.’

That voice did sound like Hoseok.

‘I’m here now.’

Then, the wings vanished, folding back into his body with an enormous flap. Little pearls of glitter dispersed throughout the air and a couple translucent, purple feathers came to rest on the floor below. Hoseok beamed at you as if he just won a game of monopoly.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Oh my god." You blinked.

"Again. Not exactly."

"I get it now." Your voice was quiet, but Hoseok heard you.

His eyes sparkled in excitement, grinning ear to ear. "You do?"

You nod slowly. "I do."

Throwing his hands up in elation, Hoseok's eyes grew so squinty with happiness that they were merely little slivers of black eyelashes. "That's great! So now you'll let me help you?"

You ignored his question. "I did it. I really did it."

He frowned, lips dipping in confusion. "Wait. Did what?"

You sighed, raking a hand through your vomity, unwashed hair. "I'm dead. I'm actually dead."

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Next⤏

A/N

Completely unedited. I'm sorry! I'll go back through the chapters as I go and edit them. I know it needs... more. But I hope you enjoyed it!

Cial

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destroying · 3 years

Text

learning curve.

( I have too much time on my hands and I have to keep practicing this goddamn character until I remember how to write him let’s GOOOOO )

“Bloody fuck, I dunno how to do this!” He was screeching, Sellie was screeching, Smudge the cat was screeching from a corner somewhere. Shielding his face from spitting oil with an arm, Ry snatched the pan off the stove, flipped off the burner and shook his sizzling meal onto a plate.

Something thundered closer from the bedroom and took up the whole frame of the kitchen’s entryway. “Rydrein, I told you to watch your language!”

“Shut the fuck up, Phil, ‘s my kid ‘n’ she’s gonna know all ‘er words. 'N’ stop sayin’ that name!” The home was chaos. Sellie, armed with a wrench and doing laps around the living space, was dressed in a mismatched set of oversized pajama pants paired with one of the formal tunics she’d received as a birthday gift. Cracked eggshells lay littered around Ry’s boots. A (frankly dangerous) assortment of metal work scraps had been piled around the living room floor. “She said she wanted breakfast for dinner, so I’m-- I’m tryin’, mate. I ain’t really got much of a knack for this shit.”

Phil set down the armful of child-sized clothing he’d been sorting through, trying to discern clean from unclean for the wash. His brother was trying, he knew he was. Still, this would normally be the point where he chastised Ry for his inability to master something as simple as cooking. The elf was hundreds of years old. How had he survived this long?

The more Phil watched, though, the more he realized the struggle wasn’t a matter of effort or skill. Ry could cook. He could make breakfast for dinner. But his hands were trembling above the plate and Phil could almost see his heart pounding through his chest, dark eyes bulging out of his head. He had not looked back at Sellie once. He was struggling for entirely different reasons.

Sighing, Phil stepped forward and set a warm hand over his sibling’s wrist. “Ann'thel,” he uttered gently, sweetly. “You’re all right.”

“He ain’t ever left us alone before,” Ry blurted out suddenly, panic hiking his shoulders up by his ears. “What was I thinking? I dunno how to take care of a kid. What if this food makes ‘er sick? What if I accidentally hurt ‘er?” He looked green, then, a hurk bubbling up past his lips.

“Ilithian is only gone for a day. You will not hurt her. You’re not there, ann'thel, in the before times, with the others. You are here, now, with your daughter. And you can keep her safe.” When Ry opened his mouth to counter, Phil promptly slapped him across it. The blow was only firm enough to sting, to redden his lips with the impact.

Anger visibly roiled in the older man, replacing the tangled mess of fear and anxiety that trauma always reared with a more grounded emotion. With anger, however, came surprising clarity. Ry glared at his sibling with enough venom to kill a kodo and then, just as quickly... deflated, settling into his average state of mildly and consistently annoyed.

He looked down at the plate. The eggs and bacon were plenty edible.

Ry didn’t thank Phil but he did squeeze his shoulder as he passed, and that was enough-- it always was. Ry’s hands, the same ones that earlier trembled, now reached up (steady as a surgeon’s!) to wrap his hair over itself and into a bun, out of reach of prying little fingers. “Sellie Embermourn!” He huffed into the yawning void that was their seaside home. At this point she could be hiding anywhere, but her distant giggle suggested she hadn’t made it past the hallway. “Either you get some proper clothes on before dinner or ’m tellin’ your Da when ‘e gets back!”

Sellie shrieked in horror. Ry shrieked in triumph. Smudge the cat shrieked in sympathy from a corner somewhere.

Phil shook his head and picked up the clothes again.

#writing #raising a child take a village #ok ok this is actually closer to present time I'm getting there I'm getting there #I forgot how fun this bastard was to write tbh

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

Breakfast Surprise

Summary: Mitch wakes up early to make some breakfast for Brody.

Word Count: 1385

Read on AO3:

“Shit!” Mitch cursed under his breath, nearly dropping the carton of eggs tucked under his arm as he reached for a jug of milk. The raspberry container clattered to the floor causing Mitch to swear more as he rushed to put down the other ingredients. He knelt down and picked up the raspberries then rushed over to the sink and washed them off. He looked at the container of raspberries, water slipping through and dripping through the small openings around the edges. Giving a shrug, he placed it down on the container. He had gotten it in five seconds, that's what mattered. Taking a deep breath he got out the bowls and pans he needed to make this breakfast. Gently placing down the pans and bowls, Mitch began to crack the eggs for the french toast. His green eyes wandered over to the clock in the kitchen. Brody wouldn’t get up for another half an hour. That should be plenty of time to prepare breakfast. His focus was so completely on making sure he had enough time to cook the different parts of the meal that he had failed to notice the egg had missed the bowl. The yolk dripped down and splattered on his bare feet.

“Gah, fucking fuck!” Mitch whispered and went over to get some paper towels to clean up the mess. He just had to concentrate. Sure he was pretty shit at cooking a lot of things, but he really didn’t wanna mess this up. All he wanted was to surprise his wife with breakfast in bed. It shouldn’t be that hard. With determination burning anew, Mitch cracked open the rest of the eggs he needed in two bowls then poured a bit of milk in one, sprinkling in some sugar and a splash of vanilla before grabbing the container of cinnamon. Mitch shook it, his eyebrows knitting in confusion when nothing came out. He lifted it up to his face and patted it a few more times, causing a small dust of cinnamon to cover his face. Mitch spat and shook his face before shaking some cinnamon into the mix. He left the mixture for a minute and began to turn on the different burners, placing bacon on and some butter in the other pan. A small meow drew his attention when Oreo strutted over the counter, purring loudly as he stuck his head into the french toast mix.

“Oreo, no,” Mitch grabbed the cat and placed him down by his brother who jumped this way and that before whacking Oreo and scampering off. Mitch gave a short laugh then whisked up the french toast mixture. Placing some bread into the mix, he began to cook the first few slices while the bacon sizzled in the other pan. The different smells of breakfast were starting to swirl around, creating a comforting yet tempting smell. Mitch’s smile grew as he worked to make some scrambled eggs. But it proved to be a mistake as he smelled some of the bacon burning.

“Damn it,” Mitch turned down the stove’s lighter then moved to flip over the first few pieces of french toast. Everything soon was back on track as he finished up the bacon then turned his attention back on the scrambled eggs. Folding in some cheese and different veggies, he let the flavors meld and work together. With the bacon done he could finally finish up the french toast. Some got burnt but he just put those aside for himself. He only wanted the best french toast for Brody. Some scampering drew his attention for a second when he saw TNT playing with his catnip toy before Oreo moved forward, wanting a turn. TNT looked at his sibling for a second before kicking his back legs and running away.

“Oreo, just chill with me.” Mitch moved over, taking down a tray and the different dinnerware he needed. He slid his feet across the floor and began to finish up the rest of the dishes. After a few minutes the french toast was stacked haphazardly on a plate, the scrambled eggs still in the pan and the bacon on some paper towels to get off some of the excess oil. Mitch moved back in front of the tray and began the process of laying out the silverware, plate and glass. His eyes stuck on the napkin for a minute: should he try to make it fancy? Nah, knowing how well that had turned out last time he tried he figured it would end up the same way. Placing down a few pieces of french toast, Mitch added some eggs and bacon to the plate before placing a container of syrup and butter on the tray. He slid across the kitchen, stopping himself with the fridge handle and opening it to take out some orange juice to pour. That was the last part.

Mitch crossed his arms and smiled down proudly at his accomplishment when his smile faltered. He was forgetting something… The raspberries. Mitch cracked open the container and tossed a few berries on. With a sigh of relief he moved to dump the charred and messed up remains of breakfast on a plate for himself. His eyes looked back at the clock; he had finished just in time. Mitch’s hands grabbed onto the handles of the tray and he made his way to the bedroom, careful not to spill anything. He paused, however, when he saw his next obstacle. The door was closed. With a grunt he lifted up his leg, his eyes growing large when the orange juice nearly tipped over and ruined his breakfast. Freezing for a second he moved his foot forward and wrapped it around the doorknob. It took a few attempts but he successfully opened the bedroom door, signalling for Oreo and TNT to come barreling forward to greet Brody. The two cats hopped up on the bed and immediately went over to Brody who had just woken up.

“Morning,” She gave a happy, sleepy smile to her husband who returned the smile in kind.

“Morning, Brodes.” He walked over and got up on the bed. Leaning forward he captured her lips in a soft kiss. The two looked into each other’s eyes for a moment before Mitch continued. “Mmm, morning breath,”

Brody playfully pushed him away then looked over at the tray that was on top of the bed. “What’s that?”

“Thought I’d make you breakfast in bed,” Mitch lifted it up and moved to place it on Brody’s lap that was currently inhabited by two cats. Brody picked up TNT and Oreo to move them away then pushed back a stray strand of hair. Her blue eyes looked at the breakfast in awe.

“This looks amazing, Mitch!” Her praise made a happy smile appear on Mitch’s face.

“It was nothing,” He shrugged it off but paused when he felt Brody’s lips on his cheek.

“I think it's super sweet,” Those words made Mitch’s heart do a little flip inside his chest as he sat cross-legged on the bed. “Where’s your breakfast?”

Those words made the brunette’s eyes widen. “Shit, be right back!” Mitch hopped off the bed and after a few minutes returned with his plate of rather burnt looking food. He sat down, perfectly content as he began to dig in.

“If you want some of my food, that’s fine,” Brody offered but Mitch shook his head.

“No, I’m fine with this. There plenty more french toast if you want any.”

“I think I have plenty here,” Brody smiled down at the breakfast. “French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice, you really thought of everything.” The auburn smiled up warmly at her husband.

“Yeah, I’m pretty impressed-” Mitch stopped himself when he realized something. “Shit, forgot the coffee!”

“Mitch!” Brody called out, wanting to tell him it was okay, but he was already off, the two cats in tow. Brody let out a soft laugh as she sliced through her french toast. Even if he was a bit forgetful and a dumbass, he really was a sweet guy. Her sweet guy. Brody let that statement wash over her, making her heart feel all warm and fuzzy before she bit down into the french toast, happy to start digging into the breakfast in bed.

#twdg #twdg mitch #twdg brody #twdg moody #fanfic #ericson's diner au

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homemade-potato · 4 years

Text

shit i forgot to say like a week ago

Here’s chapter two, have fun reading or smthn

Chapter one for those of you who are too lazy to go back (bcs same)

and here it is below the cut (i know, i’m putting effort in today)

This chapter was surprisingly short compared to the last one lmao, it's only seven pages compared to the last one's nine and it's 1500 words shorter which is good for me, but it was still a surprise.

Anyway, enjoy!

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had barely changed. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the uniform brass number four on the Dursley’s front door; it crept into their living room which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr Dursley had seen the fateful news report about owls. Only the photographs had changed, ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink boy wearing different-coloured bobble hats. But Dudley Dursely was no longer a baby, now the photographs showed a large blonde boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the travelling fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign of there being another boy living in the house.

Yes, Harry Potter was still there, he hadn’t been abandoned on the front step of an orphanage no matter how much his aunt wanted to do so, he was asleep at the moment, but not for long. His aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first sound of the day.

‘Up! Get up! Now!’

Harry woke with a start, his aunt rapped on the door again.

‘Up!’ She screeched. Harry heard her making her way to the kitchen and then the sound of a frying pan being pulled from its wrack and put on the cooker. He rolled back on his and tried to remember the dream he had been having, it had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside his door. ‘Are you up yet?’ she demanded.

‘Nearly,’ said Harry.

‘Well hurry up, I want you to look at the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn. I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.’

Harry groaned.

‘What did you say?’ His aunt snapped through the door.

‘Nothing, nothing...’

Dudley’s birthday - how could he have forgotten? Harry eased himself off of his small mattress and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his mattress and, after pulling a spider off one of them, he put them on. Harry was used to spiders because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall to the kitchen. The table was almost hidden with presents of varying sizes. It looked as if Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Why Dudley wanted a racing bike was anyone’s guess, as Dudley hated exercise - unless of course, it involved beating up somebody. Dudley’s favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn’t catch him more often than not. He didn’t look like it, but Harry was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard for the better part of his life but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age and he looked even more small and skinny than he was because he was forced to wear Dudley’s old clothes and Dudley was about four times larger than he was, in both width and height. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore wire-framed round glasses held together with a lot of sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry really liked about his appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt, he thought it looked very badass and had had it for as long as he could remember. The first question he could remember asking was asking his Aunt Petunia how he got it.

‘In a car crash when your parents died,’ she had replied before saying, ‘and don’t ask questions.’

Don’t ask questions - that was the first rule to a peaceful life with the Dursleys, if he didn’t obey that rule…. Well, we’ll get into that later.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. ‘Comb your hair!’ He barked as a way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon peered over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, yet there was never any difference, his hair simply grew all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother, Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon - he had a large pink face, not much neck, small watery eyes, and thick blonde hair on his head which he inherited from his Aunt Petunia. She often said Dudley looked like a baby angel, Harry thought he looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of bacon and eggs on the table, which was quite difficult as presents took up most of the space. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting them. His face fell.

‘Thirty-six,’ he said looking up at his parents, ‘that’s two less than last year.’

‘Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Maggie’s present, see, it’s under this big present from Mummy and Daddy.’

‘Alright, thirty-seven then,’ said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who felt a huge Dudley-tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley flipped the table.

Aunt Petunia obviously smelled danger too, as she said quickly, ‘And we’ll buy you two more presents while we’re out today. How does that sound, Popkin? Two more presents, is that all right?’

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work, Harry thought. Finally, he said slowly, ‘So, I’ll have thirty… thirty…’

‘Thirty-nine, sweetums,’ said Aunt Petunia.

‘Oh,’ Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel, ‘okay then.’

Uncle Vernon chuckled. ‘Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley!‘ He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment, the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went up to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley a racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new video games, and a video recorder. He was ripping the wrapping paper off of a golden wristwatch when Aunt Petunia walked back into the room looking like she’d just eaten a lemon.

‘Bad news, Vernon,’ she said, Mrs Figg’s broken her leg, she can’t take him.’ She jerked her head in Harry’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror but Harry’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure and theme parks, hamburger bars, or the cinema. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away, Harry hated going there, the whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs Fiigg forced him to look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned. The only part of going to her house he enjoyed, was when she offered him stale cake and tea about halfway through his visit. The lavender scent of the fondant flowers on top of the cake was always so calming. The bittersweet of the flower’s taste never failed to relax him and then, somehow, he didn’t mind learning about her cats with heavy eyes under the heavy scent of lavender and the heavy, sleep-inducing taste of the tea.

‘Now what?’ said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this. Harry knew he should be sorry that Mrs Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself that it would be a whole year before he had to look at Mr Tibbles, Snowy, Snowball, Mr Paws, Tufty, Smokey, Misty, and Coco again.

‘We could phone Marge,’ Uncle Vernon suggested.

‘Don’t be silly, Vernon, she’d kill the boy.’

The Durselys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn’t there - or rather, as though he was something very nasty and beneath them, like a slug.

‘What about whats-her-name, your friend, Yvonne?’

‘On holiday in Majorca,’ snapped Aunt Petunia.

‘You could just leave me here,’ Harry put in hopefully (he’d be able to watch the television and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer).

Aunt Petunia looked like she’d swallowed another lemon. ‘And come back and find this house in ruins?’ She snarled.

‘I won’t blow up the house,’ said Harry, but they weren’t listening.

‘I suppose we could take him to the zoo,’ said Aunt Petunia slowly, ‘and leave him in the car.’

‘The car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone.’

Dudley began to cry loudly, in fact, he wasn’t crying. It had been years since he’d properly cried, but he knew if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

‘Dinky Duddyums, don’t cry, mummy won’t let him spoil your birthday!’ She cried, flinging her arms around him in a comforting hug.

‘I… Don’t… Want…. Him… T-To come!’ Dudley wailed between huge pretend sobs, ‘He always s-spoils everything!’ He sent Harry a nasty smile through a gap in his mother’s arms.

Just then the doorbell rang - ‘Oh Good Lord, they’re here already!’ said Aunt Petunia frantically and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polikss, walked in with his mother, Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat - he was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry immediately.

Half an hour later, Harry couldn’t believe his luck, he was sitting in the back of the Dursely’s car with Piers and Dudley on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life! His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had pulled Harry aside. ‘I’m warning you,’ he’d threatened, putting his large purple face up close to Harry’s, ‘I’m warning you now, boy, any funny business and you’ll be in that cupboard from now ‘til Christmas.’

‘I’m not going to do anything,’ said Harry, ‘honestly.’

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him, No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make it happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of craft scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald bar his fringe which she’d left to ‘cover his horrible scar’. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry who’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning imagining the kids at school pointing and laughing at him, he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and Sellotaped glasses. The next morning, however, he awoke to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had shorn it off. He’d been given a week in his cupboard with one small meal a day for that, even though he tried to explain, he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had tried to force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley’s (burgundy with bright orange bobbles), but the more she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it became until it would have better fitted a sock puppet, but definitely wouldn’t have fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.

On the other hand, he’d got into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchen. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him as usual when, much to Harry’s surprise, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry’s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he shouted to Uncle Vernon through the slats in his locked cupboard door) was jump behind the big bins outside the kitchen. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him mid-jump.

But today, nothing could go wrong. It was even worth being with Dud ley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his cupboard, or Mrs Figgs cabbage smelling home.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia, he liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were a few of his favourites. This morning, the subject was motorbikes.

‘Bloody bikers roaring along like maniacs, the young hooligans,’ he said as a motorbike overtook them.

‘I had a dream about a motorbike,’ said Harry to himself, remembering suddenly, ‘it was flying.’

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed the car, he turned in his seat and yelled ‘MOTORBIKES DON’T FLY!’

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

‘I know they don’t,’ said Harry, ‘it was only a dream.’

But he wished he hadn’t said anything, if there was one thing the Dursleys hated more than him asking questions, it was him talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it were a dream or a cartoon. They seemed to think he would get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams and then because the smiling lady in the van asked what Harry wanted before they could hurry on, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly. It wasn’t bad either, Harry thought, licking it while they watched a gorilla scratching its head. The gorilla looked remarkably like Dudley, except it wasn’t blonde.

Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time, though he was careful to walk a safe distance away from Dudley and Piers, who were getting bored of the animals by lunchtime, so they wouldn’t fall back into their habit of using him as a punching bag. They ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn’t big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish off the first.

Harry felt afterwards that he should have known it was too good to last.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of snakes and lizards were crawling and slivering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see the huge poisonous cobras and thick man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a dust bin - but at the moment, it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the brown coils.

‘Make it move,’ he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass but the snake didn’t budge. ‘Do it again,’ Dudley ordered and Uncle Vernon rapped on the glass smartly with his knuckles once more, but the snake snoozed on. ‘This is boring,’ Dudley moaned and he shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom. It had no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It must be worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom where the only visitor he got was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake him up, but at least he got to visit the rest of the house, he thought.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone else was watching, they weren’t, he looked towards the tank once more and winked back.

The snake jerked its head towards Dudley and Uncle Vernon then raised its eyes towards the ceiling as if to say 'I get that all the time.'

‘ I know, ’ Harry murmured through the glass, although he wasn’t too sure that the snake could hear him. ‘It must be so annoying.’

The snake nodded vigorously.

‘Where do you come from anyway?’ Harry asked.

The snake jerked its tail at the little sign next to the glass. Harry stared at it.

Boa Constrictor

Brazil

‘Was it nice there?’

The boa constrictor once again jerked it's tail at the sign again and Harry read on

This specimen was bred in captivity

‘Oh, so you’ve never been to Brazil?’

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. ‘DUDLEY, MR DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING’

Dudley came waddling towards them from the lizard section as fast as he could. ‘Out of the way, you,’ he said, punching Harry in the gut. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What happened next happened so fast no one saw what happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning with their noses on the glass, the next, they leapt back with screams of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped, the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake began uncoiling itself rapidly before slithering out onto the floor. Harry could have sworn he heard a low hissing voice that said ‘ Brazil here I come… obrigada amiga.’

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. ‘But the glass,’ he kept saying, ‘where did the glass go?’

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a strong cup of tea while he apologised over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry could tell, the snake hadn’t done anything but snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudey was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg. But worst of all for Harry at least, Piers was calming down enough to say ‘Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?’ With a smirk on his obnoxious face.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could barely speak. All he could manage to say was ‘Go - cupboard - stay - no meals,’ before he collapsed in a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard days later, his stomach rumbling and wishing he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen to get some food before the Dursleys were asleep.

He’d lived with the Durselys for almost eleven years, eleven long miserable years. He’d been with them for as long as he could remember, ever since his parents had died in a car crash. He couldn’t remember being in a car when his parents had died, but sometimes, when he strained his memory during the long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he assumed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from, a traffic light maybe. He couldn’t remember his parents at all, his aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and, of course, they forbade him from asking questions.

There were no photographs of them in the house.

When he was younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation, an aunt or uncle or cousin from his father’s side to whisk him away, but it had never happened; the Durselys were the only family. Yet sometimes he hoped that the strangers on the street that seemed to know him would do just that, take him away. Although they were very strange strangers, so he thought not. For example, and a tiny old man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping, Aunt Petunia, after asking Harry and Dudley if they knew him, had rushed them out of the Tescos without buying anything, the small half-loaf of bread that Harry had stuffed under his huge shirt for just in case aside. A wild-looking woman dressed in all green had once waved merrily at him on the bus. A bald man in a very long purple cloak had shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. the weirdest thing about these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry attempted to get a closer look.

At school, however, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang, they had a reign of terror in the playground that all were too scared of them to try and overthrow them. However their reign would be coming to an end soon as they go to secondary school.

#fanfiction #rewriting harry potter #not much changed from this chapter actually #fanfic #harry potter #fix-it fic

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mysticrei · 5 years

Note

I'm bored out of my skull watching the red carpet SO here's many questions I genuinely want to know the answer to: 5, 6, 15, 18, 33, 43, 52, 53, 57, 71, 72, 73, 74, 98

YAY! Thank you for letting me take my mind off the anxiety of tomorrow lol

5. What is your favorite color?

a light shade of olive green

6. What’s your lucky number?

I’m not sure if it is lucky, but always been drawn to the number 5 bc of my birth date and the time I was born was 12:55

15. Favorite song?

at the moment and for the past year or so it has been Last Hope by Paramore

super into Paramore lately

18. Do you want children?

absolutely, i think the highlight of my life will be when I can start having kids

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

my favorite is an egg everything bagel toasted with cream cheese and that it is one of my favorite foods

also I love this sandwich called a “hog” from a restaurant called The Breakfast Club that I drive 20 min for and I can devour in two seconds. Everything bagel with pork roll, egg and cheese with a hashbrown

but I need to reduce my carbs so my go to is a chobani flip yogurt

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

british and southern. I would love to have either

52. Favorite food?

bagels, potatoes, pasta, pretzels and hummus, velveeta mac and cheese (i love carbs)

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

casual - 20 min

getting really ready- 45 min- an hour

71. What makes you nervous?

public speaking, being the center of attention, being in an unfamiliar place, change

72. Are you scared of the dark?

not particularly, but after I have watched spooky stuff YES ABSOLUTELY

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

depends, most of the time im too shy too. but if I know someone well enough I will tell them. or if it’s in the workplace I do.

74. Are you ticklish?

my thighs omg yes

98. Do you have any scars?

a bunch, i was an active child

above my right eyebrow from my younger brother dropping a pan on my face

left eyelid from hitting it on a spider jungle gym bar

burns on my arm from working in a pizza place

a bunch on my knees from falling off my bike

and one that I say that looks like a cat butthole from falling off a quad and getting my leg run over, a rock dug a bunch of skin from my shin

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earthschampion · 6 years

Text

Here’s a small portion of a multiple-part story I wrote several years ago:

I’m in the process of completely re-writing the story because... Holy Plot-lines, Batman, the original is awful! Like many, I’m not a fan of New52, and I haven’t really read much of Rebirth. For those who have been following me for a while, you know I write pre-boot, mainly. So in my writing, my Teen Titans team is where the series left off right before New52. Red-Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl, Raven, Beast Boy, Ravager, and Solstice.

Anywhere, he’s a small sample from the story:

It was another gorgeous morning in San Fransisco; the sun rose over Titans Tower, it’s beams shining through each window. On the top of the Tower stood a small, green rooster. Beast Boy, as always, was the first Titan to wake. "Gooooooood morning, San Francisco!" Gar yelled as loud as he could, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on his feathers. Once returning to his normal form, he made his way down to the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast for himself.

As he started up the stove, he felt a gust of wind behind him. Turning to his left, he noticed Bart at the fridge. "Morning, Bart, hungry?"

"Always, but right now I’m just really thirsty. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I was at the pool.” Bart pulled out the orange juice, then grabbed himself a glass from the dishrack before sitting at the counter.

“What’s wrong? Trouble getting the relationship rolling with Rose?” He dropped a handful of spinach onto the frying pan, then went to the fridge for egg whites.

The speedster’s face turned red as he choked on his sip of orange juice. “What?! Trouble?! No! No trouble! Things are smooth sailing with Rose!”

“Dude, it’s all good. Bro-talk is happenin’ right now, we’re cool. Sure, we get on each other’s nerves from time to time, but that’s what bros do.” Gar served the omelet and put it in front of Bart. “Here, a token of Bro-ness. We cool?”

Bart looked down at the omelet, then back to Gar, who was holding up his fist. A smile formed on his face, respectively pounding his fist against Gar’s. “We’re cool. Thanks, bro.”

“No problemo, hermano.” Gar went back to the stove, preparing another omelet for himself. “So tell me, what’s kept you up? Is it Rose? Somethin’ else? I’m all ears.” He joked, having his ears turn into those of a Bloodhound.

“Well… Okay, yeah, it’s gotta do with Rose. How real you want me to be?”

“Just don’t give me a play by play, and we’re solid.”

He let out a sigh as he re-filled his glass for a third time. “Alright, well, our relationship basically started as a one night thing. She was being flirty with me, and asked if I’ve ever been with anyone, then… Y’know. Anyway, it was never anything official, she just basically comes to me when she wants to do stuff.”

“Not a bad agreement, there.” Gar flipped the omelet before getting started on mixing the waffle batter.

“Well, not at first. It was great, She was my first, and she taught me a lot. But, I want an actual relationship. I mean… I’ve always been kinda jealous of Conner and Cassie.”

He looked to Bart, pointing to his rabbit ear. “Careful, Barty. Kryptonians can’t always shut their super-hearing off.”

After throwing out the empty orange juice carton, Bart added it to the shopping list on the fridge. “He probably already knows, anyway. I mean, I love being a speedster, I’m not jealous of that. But, he’s always had Cassie.”

“Everyone likes an Amazonian.” Gar put his omelet on a plate as he gave Bart a wink. “Can’t blame ya there, buddy.”

“I mean, Cassie’s gorgeous, but she’s always been a sister to me. I mean, they’ve always had each other. It’s something I’ve wanted, but… It’s hard, man. And yeah, I get to do things with Rose and we sleep in the same bed every now and then, but I want it to be official…”

He placed the first waffle on the plate, then began filling up the waffle maker a second time. “Have you thought about telling that to Rose? That you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Bart stabbed his omelet with his fork, a red shade appearing on his face. “Once, and she laughed at me.”

He couldn’t control his laughter, it was too much to contain. “She what?! You’re joking!” Upon turning around, he saw the seriousness in Bart’s face. A look that’s rarely seen. “Oh, man, I’m sorry to hear that. What’d she say to it?”

“She isn’t “the dating type.” That she doesn’t “do dating.” And “why do we need a title? What’s wrong with this?” Basically, everything I didn’t want to hear.”” He stuffed his face with a bite from his omelet, then went over to start up the coffee maker.

Gar sat next to Bart’s seat at the counter, pouring some syrup onto his waffles. “I mean, not to be rude or anythin’, but she’s right. Don’t think about you and Rose for a second, just focus on Rose’s qualities. She’s a badass, sword-fighting, cigarette-smoking, white-haired, single-eyed babe. She drinks, she does whatever she wants, and won’t settle for anythin’. She may sound rude and mean when she says those things, but maybe it’s because she knows you deserve someone better? She knows you deserve someone who’s fun and innocent, someone who can be playful. You probably can’t see it now, because you’re too busy being infatuated with Rose.”

“Dude, when’d you get so mature?” Bart laughed as he lightly punched Gar’s arm. “I mean, you’re probably right. Right now, I want Rose and only Rose because of everything we’re doing. If we were to stop, maybe I’d find someone else.”

“Who says you can’t be looking now?”

“W-What? Whaddya mean? I’m with Rose, dude! Haven’t you been listening?!”

“Loud and clear, m’man.” Gar pointing to his deer ears. “And from my understandin’, you two aren’t together. You guys are F.W.B’s.”

Bart raised a brow, finishing up his omelet. “Fun With Babies?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh. “Friends With Benefits, bro. Meaning you two aren’t together, but you’re doing things. Get it?” He rolled his eyes, then looked back to the speedster. “Fun With Babies? Really? What’s wrong with you?”

He nodded, quickly washing his plate and fork in the sink. “So, you’re saying I should be looking for someone right now? You know how hard it is to find someone in the superhero community?”

“So? Date someone outside the hero community. Wally did it, So did Barry. Hell, even Superman did it.” Gar took a bite of his omelet, then went over and poured two cups of coffee for himself and Bart.

“I wanna be with another hero, I don’t wanna have to hide who I am.” Bart took the mug, grabbing a banana before heading back to the counter.

After putting some vegan-creamer in his coffee, Gar sat back down, changing into a chimpanzee as he ate his own banana. “Ooooh, I see. So we have some desires, do we? What else is on the requirement list to date Kid Flash?”

“That’s really it.” Taking a sip from his coffee, Bart grabbed a spoon and added some more sugar. “I just need to be honest with her. As long as we get along, and she’s a beautiful hero, I’ll be happy. Anyway, enough about me. I got a question for you, actually.”

“Shoot.” Showing a set of finger guns, he changed back to his normal self as he took another gulp of his coffee.

“Why is it you don’t ever come down with Raven? You’re always first.”

“Because Raven likes to sleep in a bit more than I do.”

“Okay, yeah, but I mean… Conner and Cassie come down at the same time… Tim and Stephanie come down at the same time, whenever she stays over, that is… Don’t you like to stay in bed with Raven?” Gar finished his coffee and twirled his spoon. “Well, yeah, I guess when you put it that way… Truth is, Raven isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s hard to express emotions when your father is literally a demon that feeds on your emotions. I’m honestly surprised we’re able to do the things we do?”

Bart brought over the coffee pot, topping Gar off before refilling his own mug. “Stuff like what?”

Raising his mug as a sign of thanks, he took a sip before continuing. “Like, we hold hands, we kiss, we cuddle at night. Once in a while, other things… I think she blocks herself off sometimes when she feels she’s getting too comfortable. She may be part-demon, but she’s also part-human. And like everyone else, the human-side of her craves connection and emotion. It’s an ongoing war in her, she can only feed her human-side’s cravings so much before Trigon can have a chance at using her.”

“I didn’t think of it like that… But she seems to be expressing herself a bit more, right?” She actually gives me hugs and plays with my hair when we watch tv!”

He laughed a bit as he took another sip from his coffee. “She thinks of you as her youngest brother. She said she enjoys when you fall asleep next to her, you’re like a cat.” Gar changed into a cat as he hopped onto Bart’s lap. “You vibrate when you snore, like your form of purring.”

“Knock it off!” Bart laughed, pushing Gar off of him. “Wait, she thinks of me as the youngest?”

“Yep! Tim’s the oldest because he acts the most mature. Kon is the middle-child, and you’re the baby. In Raven’s eyes, anyway.” He laughed again, bringing his plate and mug to the sink. “As for the girls, Rose is the oldest, Cassie and Stephanie are twins, and Kiran is the youngest.”

“Kiran… Hmmm.” Bart tapped his foot on the barstool as he looked towards the doorway. “Do you think--”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Loverboy.” Gar patted Bart on the back. “Baby steps, I know that’s hard for you. It’s more like baby miles, in your case.”

"Garfield, let him at least have some hope." Raven walked in, giving Bart a gentle smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Good morning, Bart. Things with Rose aren’t going well?"

"Mornin' Rave.” Bart leaned his back, resting his head against her chest as she played with his hair. He would never admit to it, but Raven was like a second mother to him. She always seemed so protective of him, and he loved his quality time with her. “Your Nat-Geo of a boyfriend gave me some advice. Are we still watching that movie together?" He smiled wide as he offered her an orange from the table. She gladly accepted the orange before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Of course, we didn’t marathon the entire “Ultimate Ninja” series for us to not watch the seventh one.”” Raven left Bart and went over to the fridge, grabbing milk before going to the cabinets for cereal. Leaning over, she gave Gar a kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, Garfield.”

“Mornin’, honey.” He returned the kiss before motioning towards Bart at the counter. “You give him kisses, too?”

A gentle roll of her eyes, she patted Gar’s cheek as she spoke quietly. “You know my love for him is different than my love for you, Garfield.”

“Mhm.” Gar went back to putting the dishes away, grabbing Raven a bowl, as well. “Let’s make sure it stays that way. I don’t need you trying to hit on my woman, Speedy.”

“Wrong hero, but noted.” Bart placed his mug in the sink before looking back to Raven. “Hey, Rave? When are we watching the movie?”

“As soon as I finish eating, I’ll meet you on the couch, deal?”

“Sounds good! See ya, Rave! And Gar… Thanks.” He gave them both a smile and a salute, then ran out of the room.

Gar looked to Raven, an eyebrow raised as he leaned his back against the counter. “Ultimate Ninja, huh? I didn’t take you for a kung-fu fan.”

Raven shrugged her shoulders as she carried her bowl of cereal to the counter. “I don’t particularly enjoy it, but I know Bart loves to snuggle up to me and have me play with his hair.”

“You know because he told you? Or because you felt it?”

“Both.” She covered her mouth as she finished her spoonful. “He told me how he loves showing me his favorite movies and shows. What he didn’t say, however, is how he thinks of me as his mother, in a sense.”

Once again, he couldn’t control his laughter. “Sheesh, he thinks you’re old? Want me to knock some sense into the kid?” He flexed his gorilla arm, before walking over to sit beside Raven.

“That is unnecessary, I think it’s very sweet.” She continued to eat her cereal for a moment. “He misses his parents, and I can understand that feeling. I’ll admit, since I first felt this is what he thinks of me, I have purposely been acting more… Motherly towards him.”

“So the snuggling on the couch and the kisses…?” Gar’s voice trailed, raising a brow to her.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, Garfield, I will stop. I am being honest when I say it’s strictly platonic.” She put down her spoon, reaching for his hand. “My love for you is… Passionate.”

A smile formed on his face, looking down at their hands. “If the kid thinks of you as his old lady, it’s fine. But if he starts gettin’ flirty, we’re gonna have problems.”

She turned Gar’s face towards her lips, kissing him gently. “Do not worry, my love. Now, if you excuse me. It’s time for me to meditate through-- I mean, thoroughly enjoy “Ultimate Ninja 7: The Samuracalypse.” She gave Gar one more kiss before meeting Bart on the couch, the menu screen already on the television.

Bart had his legs stretched out on the couch as he played on his tablet. Glancing up, he noticed Raven walking into the room. “Hey, Rave!” He sat up straight, putting his tablet on the coffee table. “Check it! I’ve got some Oolong tea here, for ya!” He smiled wide, pressing the volume button on the remote to unmute the television.

Eyes widened, Raven looked back into the kitchen and noticed there wasn’t a teapot on the stove. “How did you make the tea? I was in the kitchen with Garfield the entire time.”

“Ninja skills, Rave. Ninja skills.” He smirked, patting the seat next to him. “You ready for the movie?”

What she said to Gar was true, she has purposely been acting more motherly towards Bart. What she did not tell him, however, was that she’s been viewing Bart more as a son. It was something she would keep to herself, just as her knowledge of Bart’s feelings. She sat on the couch, and took the mug from Bart, who immediately rested his head against her chest. Raven wrapped her arm around him, her hand slowly brushing up and down his arm. “Whenever you are ready, Bart. And thank you for the tea, it was very thoughtful.” Raven gave him a gentle smile as she took a sip from the mug.

“Raven, we don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to...”

“But how will we know what becomes of Ninjokyo City? And the rise of the robot samurai’s? Aren’t you curious?” She looked down at him, noticing a concerned look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

Bart looked down and played with his fingers. “You don’t have to lie about liking the movies, Raven, it’s okay.”

With a sigh, She put the mug back on the coffee table before looking to Bart. “Bart, do you know why I’ve watched the past six Ultimate Ninja movies with you?” She gave him a moment, but only received a shrug as a response. “It’s because I enjoy spending this time with you. It doesn’t matter what we watch, I’m more than happy to sit here with you. It’s calming, which is very ironic, considering how you’re normally all over the place.” She chuckled as she lifted his head up. “I appreciate this time spent with you, Bart. It’s nice to focus on something other than my inner demons, for lack of a better phrase.”

He sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “I like it, too. Thanks for putting up with me, Raven.” He released from the hug and handed her the remote. “So, what would you like to watch?”

“Absolutely anything else other than Ultimate Ninja. For all I care, Ninjokyo City can crumble to the ground.” She laughed, giving Bart another gentle kiss on his forehead. She let Bart rest his head on her lap as he stretched out on the couch again, her fingers combing his hair as they channel-surfed.

#fan fiction #teen titans #impulse #kid flash #bart allen #beast boy #garfield logan #gar logan #raven #rachel roth #raven roth #ravager #rose wilson

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mycatshuman · 6 years

Text

Dark Hood: Chapter 14

Warnings: None except maybe negative stuff, blood(Remy's a vampire he has to drink it.)? I don't know. I'm trying to give you a nice relaxed chapter....hopefully. I wrote this before I actually wrote the chapter.

Virgil awoke to the smell of bacon wafting up the stairs and into his room from the kitchen. He pulled his headphones off and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He turned his clock around and saw that it was 9 in the morning. He let out a sigh. He hadn't really gotten much sleep last night as he felt the ghost of the knife's blade against his throat.

He shuddered and rubbed his neck feeling the small cut there. He frowned and flung the blankets aside as he stood. He fumbled for his hoodie and shrugged it on in the darkened room before grabbing his phone. He glanced at his blackout curtains, debating on wether or not to open them and let some light into his room. He decided against it as he made his way to his door and slipped into the hallway.

He found that none of the other doors in the hallway were open. He heard soft snoring from the other rooms, confirming his theory. The others were still asleep. He silently closed his door and snuck down the stairs, careful to avoid any creaks.

Virgil followed the smell of breakfast to the kitchen to find a bundle of energy. Patton was dressed in his cat onesie as he danced along to the music playing from the radio softly. Virgil felt a small smile tug at his lips as his friend poured more batter into the pan and his eyes traveled to the plate already loaded with enough pancakes to feed an army.

"Hey, Pat," Virgil greeted as he slid into a barstool at the island.

Patton turned around a bright smile on his face. "Hey Virgil! Good morning! I was just making breakfast!" He exclaimed.

Virgil eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, I see that," he replied as he looked at the other pan on the stove and saw scrambled eggs.

"How'd you sleep?" Patton asked as he turned back to the pancake and flipped it.

Virgil shrugged as he pulled out his phone. "Eh, okay I guess," he mumbled as he opened up Tumblr.

"Why?" Patton asked as he walked over to Virgil, concern shining in his green eyes.

"Just..." Virgil paused. "Thoughts."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Patton asked as he put a hand on Virgil's back.

Virgil shook his head, purple hair falling in front of his eyes. "No, I'm okay. I promise."

Patton frowned slightly before pushing a smile onto his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Okay then. If you do ever want to talk about it don't hesitate to ask!" Patton exclaimed as he went back to the pancake and pulled it out of the pan, placing it on the plate with the others.

He frowned slightly as he poured the last bit of the batter into pan. He wanted to talk to Virgil about the decision he had made yesterday without telling them. On the other hand, he didn't want to pressure Virgil. The introvert needed some time. He had a knife to his throat yesterday. That was enough to make some people faint. As Patton moved to start on the toast he let out a silent sigh. He would give Virgil at the least today.

"Hey, Virgil? Do you think you could go wake the others please?" Patton asked as he shot a glance at him on his way back to the stove.

"Sure," Virgil shrugged as he stood and made his way to the door to the basement. "I'll go get a bag for Remy," he told Patton as he flicked in the light and traveled down the stairs.

"Thank you!" Patton called as he flipped the pancake over and put more bread in the toaster.

Patton heard footsteps decend robotically down the stairs. He turned to find Logan already dresses in a black polo shirt and blue stripped tie and slacks. He was cleaning his glasses on his tie. Patton couldn't help biut wonder if Logan had any other shirts than the black polo's he always seemed to wear.

"Hiya, Logan!" He exclaimed as he pulled the last pancake out of the pan. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning, Patton," Logan greeted as he replaced his glasses and took in Patton's outfit. Patton thought he saw a tinge of pink on the serious man's cheeks before he answered Patton's question. "I slept quite well, thank you. How did you sleep?" He asked as he adjusted his tie.

"I slept like a baby! Thanks for asking!" Patton exclaimed as he turned the burner from under the pancake pan off. Something was definitely off with Virgil. Patton thought as he checked on the eggs. Normally he would ask how Patton had slept BEFORE Patton asked how he slept. Patton only remembered when he answered Logan.

Suddenly, Virgil was closing the basement door, a blood bag in his hand. He looked at Logan and snorted. "That's one less person I have to wake up," he commented before turning to head upstairs leaving Patton and Logan alone in the kitchen. Virgil didn't even make a sound as he climbed up the stairs.

"Hey, Logan. If you don't mind, could you get the Crofters, butter and syrup out and put them on the table, please?" Patton asked as he got a stack of plates down from the cabinet.

"Of course, Patton," Logan responded and moved to take the first two out of the fridge before he grabbed the syrup from the pantry and set them down in the table.

"Thank you!" Patton called as he grabbed a plate. "What would you like?" He asked as he prepared to put food on Logan's plate.

"I can dish my food myself, Patton. You focus on your food," Logan replied as he took the plate from Patton's hands.

"Why? Are they going to try and get away? Are they going to do tricks? Are they going to teach me something," Patton asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Logan groaned. "No, Patton. I meant you should get your food," Logan explained as Remy slumbered into the kitchen, drinking from the blood bag Virgil had given him. His hair was a mess and he was dragging his feet to the cabinet to get a mug for his tea.

Suddenly, there was a loud shout from upstairs as Virgil came flying down the stairs, cackling. Logan and Patton raised an eyebrow at the purple haired man as he hid behind the island next to Remy, cracking up. Remy let out a groan as Roman stomped down the stairs, very loudly.

Patton's hand flew to his mouth as he tried to hold back his laughter. Logan raised an eyebrow as he watched his friend huff in anger. "Are you okay?" Logan asked.

Roman let out a cry. "Am I okay?" He whispered. "Am I OKAY?" He roared. "Look at me!" He cried as he flung a hand at himself. "I'm wet!"

"Yes, we can see that."

"What happened, Kiddo?" Patton asked as he stifled a laugh. "Did you get in the shower with your pj's on?"

"No! Of course I didn't get in the shower with my clothes on!" Roman yelled. "Virgil dumped water on me just because I asked for a few more minutes!" Roman cried as he waved his hands in the air, his brown hair dripping with water.

Virgil snickered behind the counter as Patton turned to face him, fighting hard to keep the disapproving look on his face. "Virgil, is this true?" He asked as he put his hands on his hips.

Virgil's smile dropped as he slowly stood. "Yeah?" He said as he rubbed his neck.

Patton sighed as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Okay. I think you should help Roman clean up the mess after breakfast."

Virgil looked down. "Okay," he grumbled.

Remy clapped a hand on Virgil's shoulder as he let out a howl of laughter. "Oh this is just too damn funny!" He exclaimed as he shook with laughter. "Good one," he praised Virgil.

"Remy, we really shouldn't-" Patton started but was cut off when Remy addressed Roman.

"And your reaction just made it ten times funnier," he snickered as he turned back to his tea. Roman let out an huff of annoyance and crossed his arms. He was pouting again.

"Roman? Why don't you go upstairs and get changed into dry clothes, okay?" Patton asked kindly.

"Yeah," Roman mumbled as he turned around and stomped back up the stairs.

"Where's Picani?" Virgil asked as he scooped some eggs from the pan and onto his plate.

"Oh, he had to leave early for work," Patton answered as he sat at the table with his own plate of food.

"Can't he just, like, teleport there or something?" Virgil asked as he sat down next to him.

"Yeah, but he said he prefered to get there early to make sure he could catch up on some work he abandoned when he helped us," Patton explained brightly as he buttered a piece of toast.

"Okay," Virgil nodded as he turned to his own breakfast.

Roman came down the stairs in a tee shirt and shorts as he dried his hair. His eyes lit up when he saw the stack of pancakes on the table. He quicky grabbed a plate, some eggs and bacon before sitting at the table and starting a stack of pancakes on his own plate.

Patton giggled while Virgil rolled his eyes. "And here we see The Roman in his natural habitat," Virgil commented.

Remy and Patton snorted while Logan fought to keep a smile off his face. Roman shot a glare at Virgil. "And what's your natural habitat, a coffin? A cave?" A dungeon?" Roman shot back.

Virgil glared at him. Before he could say anything, Patton cut him off. "Come on, let's stop bickering and just sit and have breakfast together as a family," Patton suggested as he looked at the two with pleading eyes.

Both men immediately backed down and turned to their own plate. Logan found himself smiling fondly at Patton as the man quickly took care of the situation. He felt a flutter in his heart as this adorable and kind man calling him family.

He quickly snapped out of it when Roman elbowed him in the ribs. He winced and rubbed his rib as he looked at Roman. The mischevious glint in his eye was not hard to miss. Logan rose a questioning eyebrow at the man before Roman turned to face Patton.

"Hey, Patton?" Roman sing songed. Logan's eyes grew wide.

"Yeah?" Patton asked as he looked up at Roman.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Virgil glanced at them as Patton sat back. "Yeah, a long time ago," he said slowly. "Why?"

Logan willed Roman to keep his mouth shut. He was not about to have Roman telling Patton how Logan felt. No way. He stared at Roman, silently willing him to stay quiet. Roman sent him a wide grin.

"No reason," Roman replied.

Logan tried to keep the look of relief off his face. He felt eyes on him and glanced up to see Virgil looking at him quizzically. Logan tried to look indifferent to the whole thing before Virgil leaned over and whispered something to Remy. His heart started to pound in his chest. What was he saying? What was going on? He repressed a groan as he remembered Remy could hear his heart racing in his chest.

Remy shot a look a Logan before whispering a few things in Virgil's ear. Virgil surpressed a laugh as he went back to his food. Logan tried to keep from having a heart attack when he saw the mischevious grin on Remy's face as the vampire shot him a thumbs up.

Remy pointed at Patton and made a heart with his hand before pointing to Logan. Logan's face twisted in confusion. Remy looked at him and deflated as he rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you later," he mouthed before returning to his food.

Together the five sat and ate dinner together in a calming silence with the soft sound of music floating through the air from the radio in the kitchen. It was nice to relax every once in a while.

Even with a storm was brewing in the near future.

----

(Whoo! Wow! Okay. I tried to make it a nice little break from danger and negative feelings but apparently I can't do that. At least not completely. I hope you Famders enjoyed it. Remember feedback is always appreciated, good or bad. I would love to know what you all think of what I'm writing. I would love to know if you like how the story is going. I would love to see what you like and don't like about it. Anyway, I wish you all a positive day and pleasent night. Stay awesome important people.) 💜💜💜💜

Tag list: @bunny222 @nightwhisker17 @idkaurl

8 notes · View notes

madluv · 6 years

Text

Hard Boiled / SS scene rewrite (Joker x Harley)

so this is a rewrite of the Joker’s club scene in SS, that I’ve changed to give a more classic feel and dynamic to the clown duo. requested after posting a headcanon, I figured this setting fitted them both better imo. Enjoy babies ! M rating / oneshot

🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷

A coyote was crushed beneath a giant anvil, dropped from a cliffside and down into the cavern. An insufferable talking rabbit was evading the gunshots of a stuttering hunter. A cute-eyed canary taunted a skinny, desperate, stalking cat… Animated and action packed, the brass band of the Looney Tunes theme song crackled out of old speakers, cracking and popping in its loudness. The tiny television’s signal kept dropping, from cartoon to white noise, cartoon to static, but the Joker wasn’t paying much attention to the constant flitting of picture quality. He was staring endlessly at the colours, the quirky animation, eyes glazed and mindless. He was leant back, legs spread, sinking deeper and deeper into the soft comforts of their scuffed leather sofa. Harley’s tunelessly high humming kept him teetering on the edge of awareness, just irritating him enough that he didn’t drop off into a totally dissociative state. Not quite lost to the childish violence of the cartoon crazy. The warehouse – what was their humble abode – amplified noise and echoed, a cacophony. The TV, Harley’s humming, her hurried use of pots and pans bang-clang-clanging in their crudely made kitchen filled the vacant space, a heightened sound of exaggerated homelife kept the Joker from disappearing into his endless thoughts completely.

Harley was happy like this, without the clown white, her blonde hair wrapped up in a scruffy bun. She loved to play mommys and daddys whenever they shared little moments of downtime together. She’d flip pancakes (he’d find flakes of plaster in his portion since she failed to catch them, always.) She would redecorate and customise the warehouse, fairy lights were wound around every steel beam, splatters of green or red paint would freckle her face. She’d hang his best newspaper clippings in colourful frames and littered with lipstick kisses. He really did love her in those small moments, when she’d smile proudly, a shadow of a woman she desperately wanted to be, how she wanted them to be, and somehow, sometimes they were. Harley worked hard at being the doting wife, the soft lover, the loyal sidekick and companion. It was an elaborate roleplay of another life that Joker couldn’t quite partake in, so he’d placate himself, sit his ass on the couch and stare at the screen like any other husband would do.

The Joker shifted, adjusting his pants and sighing at the shitty signal. “Harley!” He aimed his pistol lazily at the bent wire above the television box. It wasn’t that Harley’s games were boring per say, but there was a real reason why Daddy kept himself busy. Without the meticulous planning, the sleeplessness, the chaos – memories came creeping in the stillness and quiet. But tonight, downtime was necessary. Partly running the Gotham criminal underground meant for meetings behind closed doors (much to his disappointment) and quiet nights that didn’t always draw police attention or panicked crowds (then what really was the point?) Harley made the most of these particular moments, while the Joker played the role she saw fit of him, watched absently when she rolled his cigars or adjusted the television set.

“How’s that puddin’?” she planted a kiss on his cheek and the cartoons were back in all their violent vibrancy, though his gaze followed her as she waltzed back to their kitchen. Harley smiled widely from behind the countertop, catching his eye, looked mild and warm in her flowery apron and a white shirt of his own. Something squeezed viciously at his throat, suddenly unable to swallow and he snapped away from her waving with a wooden spoon in hand, sneered instead of smiling and rummaged for the remote amongst a mess of cushions.

“I hate this channel!” Shouting. A sudden nervous anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. It became too important to change up the channel, an antsy need to get up off the sofa and throw things around in his searching. “Harleeeeeeeey, where’d you put my Tom n’ Jerry tapes?!”

Before she could even answer over the din, the wide shutter doors threw open, bleeding street light into their hideout home. Frost stood, his standard suited unflappable self, accompanied by another figure, their invited guest for the evening, newcomer and self entitled gangster in Gotham City, Monster T. Who nodded, smiled smugly and naively felt welcomed into the warehouse by Joker’s upward glance alone. That tightness was still at his throat. Jaw solid, he watched this acquaintance and his sharply dressed right-hand approach. Monster T was certainly imposing, impressive in both size and swagger, but an idiot for ever accepting an invite to the Joker’s own Hahacienda without considering the cause. Joker smiled, all teeth and tight – stared at T’s outstretched hand and said nothing.

“No touching,” Frost explained curtly.

“Fair enough,” the man shrugged simply, and he sat when Joker gestured him to, only after taking a seat and settling himself first.

Monster T was mighty pleased with himself, he could tell from the slight simper, his relaxed demeanour, he believed himself privileged (important) to be personally escorted by the Joker’s own PA. Sat back, arms spread, he surveyed Joker’s warehouse with an eyebrow raised, a humoured expression across his scarred face. “Nice place ya’ got here,” he commented, glancing across at Harley less subtley than he most likely thought. Joker felt his molars grind, but offered a tiny fleeting smile at T’s feigned compliment nonetheless.

This wasn’t usual procedure for the Joker, to open house to every wannabe thug in Gotham City. The well educated folks, likes of Falcone and Maroni’s men, never attended any one-to-one time with the clown prince of crime. Considered his business a waste of time and money, knew the likely consequences of meeting with the Joker alone… but sometimes new naive blood, the likes of Monster T, arrived in the city with big dreams, to make a dollar or two in the drug trade, would set up shop on the Joker’s turf unknowingly, mistaking themselves for big shot gangsters, barely grown and stepping on toes all over Gotham. He’d need to be quick to learn it didn’t work like that, either the Joker’s empire got a generous cut, or Monster T got cut, his choice.

The politics of this bored Joker completely, but he understood it necessary from Frost’s strategic suggestions and Harley’s constant nagging for cash. A long time back, before the clowns, cards and needless carnage – before the Bat – he knew he’d relished in the backstabbing, double crossing, dangerous game. Some life of long ago. And there were parts of him that clung to the taste of it. That if he let go he’d lose it completely – and it would be lost to the dark, like so many other memories.

T coughed to clear his throat and Joker was rudely roused back to the land of the living. Smoke filled the room and a strong, bitter, burning odor assaulted his senses. Despite himself, he choked too. Harley was fanning a flame with a tea towel, was loudly apologetic and flustered, face flushed from the heat of the stove. Whatever she was cooking, was wrecked and oil bubbled. Harley let out little squeaks as she was splattered. “Oops!”

“Oh, wow,” T laughed, waving the smog from his face. “I don’t know how you do it Joker.”

“Do what?” He didn’t like that condescending tone.

“You gotta get ya’self a girl that can cook,” T continued matter of factly, chuckling. “Nothin’ better than comin’ home to a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joker laughed too and he laughed loudly – a sharp and barking sound that came suddenly and unexpectedly, breaking the casual conversation and shattering the illusion of their like-mindedness. He rolled his eyes. Typical Harley, right? What a useless, stupid woman, couldn’t even cook a couple of eggs right, and all in front of their welcome visitor! He glared, grinning at T, “you’re tellin’ me!” Joker cracked, slapping his thigh. The chaos in the kitchen went silent. “Hey, why don’t you join us for dinner?” Joker leaned in, elbows on knees. “What d’ya say?” He didn’t wait nor care for a response. “Harley, sweetness, light of my life, get out the good china – we got ourselves a guest!”

“Oh goodie!” Harley squealed, followed by some more bang-clang-clanging of pots, the fire finally extinguished. Room for more failing of Harley’s home economics.

“Look, Joker, man, I didn’t mean –”

He raised his hand, kept his smile. “Ah-ah-ah. Dinner first, business second.”

It was true, Harley had her faults. Hell, she had more faults than the next one – and if he were to write a list, it’d be as long as his arm. She couldn’t cook for shit, sure. She didn’t make much sense, she had a tendency to blow off the handle at every little thing. She was difficult. She was a disaster. But Harley was his woman, riddled with mistakes and imperfections that made her all the more perfect for him. Who was this jumped up prick to be telling him the kinda woman he needed? Who was he to speak up at all? He was just some cunt from Chicago, selling coke on his streets, with the cheek – the ignorance, the sheer fucking audacity – to open his snake mouth and spit shit on his Harley Quinn.

T was no longer slouching, back straight and solid, and no longer as smug or as proud as his entrance. He shifted his dark eyes from Harley (who was sing-songing so happily) to Joker, whose head was tilted, watching in silence. “Serious – no need, I already ate,” T tried, squirming and swallowing, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“Don’t be so silly,” Joker waggled one signet ring finger. “A man’s never full, is he?” He narrowed his gaze, grinning. “Don’t insult me now.”

T gushed, guffawed, “I ain’t ever –”

“Hope yer hungry boys!” Harley crooned, in that dulcet high and trying tone of hers. “Mama’s made her best yet!” She pulled, with an excruciatingly painful scraping on concrete, the coffee table up to their feet, set down three bowls, three sets of rusty spoons. “You too, Frosty? This’ll warm ya' right up!” She giggled at her own terrible pun and Joker felt his eyes rolling upwards.

“Hurry it along Harls–” Joker was persistent. “We’re starving.”

“Yessirree!” She saluted, her hand inside a massive oven mitt. “Comin’ right up!” and tottered back to the oven where her burnt broth was bubbling.

Monster T was sweating, his t-shirt was soaked at the neck and it wasn’t the heat from the kitchen that had him shifting uncomfortably. He blinked at the bowls, and the table before him. Fingers were twitching, he looked to the shutters. “Have I done somethin’ to–”

“Let’s eat!” Joker had grabbed for his spoon, sat anticipating a feast with his feet tapping the floor.

Harley returned, stumbling with the sheer weight of the cooking pot, a mitten and a thick towel wrapped up to her elbows. She was smiling proudly, though the pot smelt rancid. Even the infallible Frost flinched as the scent reached him. Joker gave an exaggerated “can’t wait,” meeting with Monster T across the table. He was clearly panicked by the pot and it’s bubbling. The stench of hot oil. The simple man seemed like he was finally getting the message.

“Look, Joker, I don’t want no beef…”

“No beef?” Joker repeated, scoffing. “No beef?” And Harley hung at Joker’s side, joining in on the forced laughter. “You hear that sweet cheeks, he doesn’t want any beef!”

“Just as well then puddin’ that I made minestrone!” Harley cackled. And with all of her might, thrust the pot over, pouring all of it’s scalding contents onto T’s head. He reacted too late, taking a face full of the molten liquid. Clothes stuck to his flesh and tore in one fluid, flailing movement. He screamed only once before the screeches turned to gurgles. Skin sloughed from the bone, soft tender threads of blood and tissue, sinew that fizzed and bubbled and bloated. He was blinded, bawling and mouth gaping silently for mercy. And then he was gone, twitching as he tumbled onto the table. Nerve endings buzzing as he bled out and boiled over.

“How’s that tastin’ huh?” Harley asked, clearly just as (if not more so) offended by Monster T’s comments.

Joker was still laughing, snarling, prodding at the trembling mess as a crackling scent of pork hit the back of his throat. He howled with sadist delight and disgust. “Just like mother used to make!” And pulled Harley in for a smack on the cheek. That’s my girl. Who says she’s a bad cook? Joker clicked his fingers. “Frost, clear this shit off my table. Harley’s gonna make us some eggs.”

“Sunny side up, baby?”

“Sunny side up poo.”

🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷

If you liked it, feel free to hit up my inbox and suggest another scene from SS you’d like rewritten ! ( jarley content only ) much love, madluv 😘

#joker x harley #suicide squad #jarley #joker #the joker #harley quinn #my writing #cant format from my phone sorry

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mimemindmine · 6 years

Text

Emiya-san Chi no kyou Gohan Chapter 9 Script

Panel 1:

Shirou: Toshaka~

Rin: Could you put that down somewhere nearby?

Panel 2-3:

Rin: Let's see...Can you put it over there?

Shirou: Sure

Panel 4:

Rin 1:Be sure to handle those things with care, alright?

Rin 2: I don't know what'll happen if they break.

Shirou: So messy

Panel 5:

Shirou: ...Amazing. Everything seems so valuable here.

Shirou's written: This one's also seems like an antique.

Panel 6

Shirou: It's a bit late to ask, but are you should let me in here?

written: Although this is more like room service.

Rin: I've already decided that it's fine.

Rin 2: You are my student after all.

Panel 7:

Knock Knock

pg 98

Panel 1:

Sakura: How's the cleaning going?

Panel 2:

Rin: *Sighs* It looks like we still have a lot to do.

Panel 3:

Rin: It seems we're going to be busy for a while.

Rin 2: There's just too many things to move around.

Shirou: Isn’t that right?

Panel 4-5

Booong!

Rin: Ah. It's already noon

Panel 6

Sakura: Yeah,

Sakura: I was wondering what should we do for lunch and came down to ask.

Shirou: If you'll let me use your kitchen, I could make something.

Panel 7

Rin: You've already come over to help me. I'm not going to ask you for more.

Rin: So, I'll make something.

Panel 8:

Sakura: Ah!

Sakura: Ummm..

Panel 9:

Sakura: I'll help too!

Rin: Oh? Okay?

Title: Toshaka's Mixed Fried rice

written: Cat prints, huh?

100

panel 2:

Rin: So, let’s see what I have…

panel 3:

Rin 1: Eggs,

Rin 2: carrots,

Rin 3: Green onion, bell pepper,

Rin 4: some Kamaboko and chashu.

Rin 5: Well, that's everything

panel 4:

Writen: Got it!

Rin: Today, we're having fried rice!

Panel 7

Sakura: hee hee

Rin: W-What?

Panel 8

Sakura written: Pardon me

Sakura: When I imagine you cooking, I just wondered: "Would she be making Chinese?"

Panel 9

Sakura 1: And you know...right?

Sakura 2: I don't usually cook Chinese, so

Sakura: I was hoping that you would teach me...

Panel 10:

Rin: So that's what you were thinking?

101

Panel 1:

Rin: Well, I do wonder if I would be able to teach you anything.

Panel 2:

Rin: Let's get started right away. Could you help cut the ingredients!

Sakura: Sure!

Panel 3:

Instructions box: Dice the Chashu, carrots, kamaboko, and green onions until they are all about the same size of a grain of rice.

Rin: The meal doesn't take too long to cook and its more important to make sure the dish has a uniform texture.

Sakura written: Got it, Sensei!

Panel 4:

Typed lined: When you are cutting green onion, remember the following:

The green onion will be cut diagonally and then diced further.

1. (underneath)

Do not cut until the end

Arrow: Instead rotate the vegetable 180 degrees and swap the cutting position

2. Continue cutting diagonally (until you reach the end)

3. Separate and discard the ends of the green onions

Panel six

chop

Chop

102:

Panel 2:

Sakura written 1: Finished!

Sakura 2: ?

Sakura: Did I mess up somehow?

Rin 1: No. There's nothing wrong.

Rin 2: Umm...let's go to the next step.

Panel 4:

Shiriou 1: I thought I would be able to help...

Shirou 2: But, it seems that I would be bad if I interrupted.

Panel 5:

Shirou: I should just wait quietly...

Panel 6

Shirou:

*fidget*

Panel 7:

Shirou: Well!

Panel 8

Shirou: I'll just keep cleaning!

Comment box: Someone who can't settle down!

103:

Instructions 1:

First gather and place both your ingredients and seasoning within an arm's reach.

Instruction 2:

Then heat the frying pan up and use a bit of oil.

Panel 2:

Instruction: Using medium heat, pan fry the carrots.

Instruction 2: Staying on this heat setting and then add the chashu, kamabako, and bell pepper.

Panel 3:

Instruction:

Temporarily transfer the stir-fry into another plate and then sprinkle the salt and pepper

Panel 4

Instruction:

Crack open and beat the eggs,

Instruction 2:

Clean and reheat the frying pan.

Panel 5:

Instruction 1:

Sprinkle plenty of oil and then turn the heat up towards a higher heat.

Instruction 2:

If you can, separate the egg and create the impression that you are frying small droplets of egg on the frying pan.

Instruction 3:

Before the egg hardens and while it is half cooked, add the rice

Instruction 4:

And with a wooden spatula, break apart and mix the ingredients together.

written: The rice is still warm

panel 6:

Instruction 1: Take the previous stir-fry and the green onion, add it to the rice, and then mix everything together.

Instruction 2:

Season the rice with salt, pepper, and sake.

Panel 7:

Sakura 1:When you mention Chinese cuisine, you think of specialty restaurants where you watch the chief flip the food.

Sakura 2: But, when you try that yourself, the ingredients just seem to fly all over the place.

Rin: Ah. That thing, huh?

Written: Here we go

104

Panel 1:

Rin: Generally most household stoves won't hit the proper heat for that.

Rin 2:Also if you overheat the food, the ingredients will stick to the pan.

sound effect: Sizzle

panel 2:

Rin: To prevent anything from flying away, just shaking the pan is generally enough to mix the dish together.

Written: At a high enough temperature, you can mix the rice in one go!

Panel 3:

Rin: But, doing something like this does fire you up.

Sakura: So that's how it is.

Panel 4:

Instructions:

Finally, add a bit of soy sauce to the surface of the frying pan and mix the contents around for a nice aroma.

Instruction 2:

Once everything is mixed together, the food would be ready!

panel 5

Sakura: Haaa! The aroma is so enticing!

Sakura 2: I'll make sure to practice, Nee-san!

Rin's written: The side dishes are also finished.

Panel 6:

Sakura: Ah! Senpai

Sakura 2: Sorry to keep you waiting!

105

Panel 1:

Shirou: How's my timing?

Shirou written: It smells pretty good.

Sakura! Perfect! We've just finished

Panel 2:

Rin: I thought you were obediently waiting for us, but

Rin: where did you go?

Panel 3:

Shirou: For some reason, I couldn't stay still. So, I ended up cleaning up the place.

Panel 4:

Archer: Rin. Dust has been piling up.

Rin: ...Again? It's fine…Really.

Panel 5:

Rin: ... ... Heh.

Shirou:W-what?

Panel 6:

Rin: Nothing.

Panel 7

Rin 1: Anywaaaays,

Rin 2: Let's have lunch.

Panel 8:

Shirou: It looks delicious.

Rin: Of course, it does. I made it.

Rin 2: And Sakura helped.

106:

Panel 1

Rin: Here you go.

Rin: Please don't over eat now.

Sound effects in panels 2-3

Munch

munch

Panel 4

Shirou: Yup. It's simple, but delicious.

Shirou: The rice isn't sticky, but it still clumps together

Shriou 2: I wonder if it’s difficult to replicate this.

panel 5

*nod* *nod*

107

Panel 1

Rin: That is certainly the case

panel 2:

Sakura 1: This time it came out well. But, I'm not confident that I could do this again.

Sakura 2: Next time I'll try making this on my own, so will you be my taste tester?

Shirou written: Got it

Shirou: So, Sakura's finally expanding to Chinese food...

Panel 4-5

Sakura 1: Besides...Nee-san still

Sakura 2: has a lot to teach me.

panel 6:

Rin 1:R-

Rin 2: really?

Panel 7:

Sakura: Really

Panel 8:

Shirou: Hey, you're getting red, Toshaka

Rin: Just...shut up already.

108

Left side:

Miss Toshaka's mixed fried rice

Ingredients for four people (If you are making 3~4 servings, the cooking time is about 4 minutes )

800Gs of Rice (Or four servings of rice)

4 Eggs

100 Gs of Chashu

1/2 of a roll of Kamaboko

1/2 a Carrot

1~2 Green Pepper(s)

1 bulb of Green Onion

A little bit of Salt and Pepper

1 Table spoon of Oil

2/3 Table Spoon of Soy Sauce

2-3 Table spoons of Salad Oil

Ingredients for one serving (For one serving, the cooking time is about 2-3 minutes)

200 G of rice (This will be enough for one bowel)

1 Egg

20-25G of Chashu

1/8 of a roll of Kamaboko (50Gs)

1/8 of a carrot

1/2 a Green Pepper

1/4 of a shoot of Green Onion

a little bit of Salt and Pepper

a little bit of oil

1/2 a teaspoon of Soy Sauce

1 Table spoon of salad oil

Arrow: Even a beginner will have an easy time making 1~2 servings of fried rice.

(note) For beginners, controlling the moisture of the ingredients (the egg, the chashu, green onion, etc) is a challenge! It's easy to unevenly season the dish!

Right side

1. Small dice the chashu, carrots, kamaboko, green onion, and green pepper until it is about the size of a rice grain.

(note) Depending on your heat setting, the dish might not take too long to cook. However, the food's texture and uniformity will be impacted. Regarding the frying order, the carrots and green onions should be added individually. The chashu, kamaboko, and green pepper should remain ready on a tray or plate and fried together.

2. Prep the warm rice. (Day-old or cold rice can work, but they will need to be heated first.) Crack open the eggs and make sure to whisk it well.

3. Make sure to have the ingredients and seasoning within arm's reach. and then heat and coat the frying pan with a little bit of oil. Using medium heat, panfry the carrots. At half heat, add and cook the chashu, kamaboko, and green pepper in the frying pan. Lightly season the stir-fry with salt and pepper and then set the food on a separate plate

Bubble: To avoid burning the ingredients, stay between medium to high heat.

4. After rinsing the frying pan, heat it back up and spread a large layer of oil (2~3 table spoons) onto its surface. Using medium to high heat, deposit the beaten eggs. If you can, separate the egg and create the impression that you are frying small droplets of egg on the frying pan. Before the egg hardens and while it is half-cooked, add the rice in, and something like a wooden spatula to break up the rice and mix the ingredients together.

5. Mix the stir-fries from steps 3 and 4 with the green onion and then mix it again. Add salt and pepper, and garnish it with oil. (Add chicken broth for add flavor). Finally, pouring a bit of soy sauce onto to the surface of the frying pan will release a nice fragrance. Mixing everything together one last time and then you are finished. You can replace the soy sauce at the end for sesame oil for another delicious flavor.

Points:

1. All the cut ingredients should be about the side of rice grains.

2. The rice that you would want to use for this recipe should be steaming hot. (Cold rice is no good) (note) Cold rice has a harder texture and while it can still be pan-fried, cold rice reacts differently to heat: because it does not heat up evenly, the rice would then crack and would be reduced to a starchy mess.

3. Cooking at a high temperatures (medium to high heat) will shorten the cooking process!! Even if you over shake the frying pan, its temperature will not go down.

Last boxed comments:

A small dice refers to cuts about 7~8 mm in size/ a dice cut refers are about 1 cm in size/ shredding implies that the ingredients less that 5mm in size

109

Rin: Sakura, you can use that apron.

Sakura: She must really like cats, huh?

Translator’s note: I have submitted this script to the team. They’ll typeset the work when they can.

#emiya-san chi no kyou no gohan #translated this #If there's anything wrong please mention #theteamisworkingonthis

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