#taking the hounds to the park is just like SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF.. SNIFF

[genuflectx]

hounds abound ☀️🌾🌳🌷

#hound dog #beagle #blue tick #from a few weeks ago #rudy has come a long way since i grabbed him off the street as a lost dog #taking the hounds to the park is just like SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF.. SNIFF

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One: Merry Crisis 

It’s also on A03 (this chapter will go up too but not for a bit bc I have stupid adult work to do) 

Five days after New Years and Steve Harrington was haunting Eddie’s head.

This time at least, it was consensual. 

Mostly. 

“I thought you said New Year's resolutions were a total waste of time and a conformist’s mmrrph--” Gareth cuts off as a ringed hand claps (gently) over his mouth, Eddie’s glare burning a hole in the side of his best friend’s head. 

“No one asked you to comment.” Eddie informs him darkly.  

“He’s got you there, Eds.” Jeff teases, seated on a bin in Gareth’s garage, friends occupying the couch across from him. “It is one of your yearly rants.” 

“New Years Resolutions are just a convenient way for normies to understand my quests.” Eddie sniffs, ignoring the fact that he’d been going on about this since he showed up, several hours ago.    

 He releases Gareth’s mouth, springing up to pace another circuit round the garage. “I refuse to repeat another year in this god-awful high school--and!” 

Spinning on his heels, Eddie flings a hand in the air, the exact same way he had when he auditioned for Sherlock Holmes in Hawkin High’s performance of Hounds of Baskerville. “It is my duty as Hellfire’s DM to figure out what the hell those freshmen are wrapped up in with Harrington!” 

“Rii-iiight.” Gareth remarks. “I’m sure your obsession with this has nothing to do with those, what did you call them?”

Grant covers a laugh with a cough as Gareth pretends to think before saying: “Harrington’s big ol’ puppy dog eyes?”

Eddie’s face goes red. “I told you, I’m not crushing on Steve!” 

“Bro.” Grant says, expression calling out Eddie’s lie better than words ever could. 

“The entire planet knows you have a crush on him, Eds.” Gareth adds, leveling his best friend with a knowing look. “Frankly I’m amazed Steve himself hasn’t figured it out.”

“Shut it!” Eddie hissed, face aflame. “This is about everything else!  What he’s hiding! Why the kids--”

“--worship him.” Jeff, Grant and Gareth all finish as one, their impromptu chorus deflating Eddie like a sad balloon.

“We know.” Grant says. “You think Harrington and the kids are wrapped up in some kind of crazy conspiracy that's eating them all alive and because you have a compulsive desire to solve every mystery put in front of you, you can’t leave it alone. This is starting to become something you should really like, work on man.” 

Eddie turns his glare on Grant. 

“You need to drop out of that AP psychology class.” He demands with another sniff. “It’s rotting your brain.”

“Uh huh.” Grant says, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“You;’ll see.” Eddie mutters as he resumes his pacing. “You’ll all see when I finally figure it out. You’ll be all,” Eddie straightens, clutching his hands together and squeezing them against his chest, “Oh-my-gawd, Eddie, holy shit, you were so right, they were hiding a huge secret!” 

“Keep dreamin’ bud.” Jeff says flatly, prompting laughs from Gareth and Grant.

Eddie takes off a shoe and throws it at him. 

(Jeff swears it was worth it.) 

xXx

10 days after New Years and Steve Harrington was right there.

Right.

There.

It would be easy to walk across the parking lot, strike up a conversation. Hell, the kids' presence makes it even easier, Eddie knows all he has to do is talk about them before Steve drives them home. 

He just--has to do it. 

"You do know the first step is actually talking to him right?" Jeff teases, leaning against the school’s doorway.

Eddie startles, flushing scarlet. 

"Shut up!" He snaps, turning around to run his hand over his face.

 God why was this so hard!? 

He's talked to plenty of people. Hell, he's talked to Harrington before. Talking was the thing  Eddie arguably did best and suddenly he just fucking…couldn't!? 

"He's waving at you." Jeff observes. 

Eddie whips back around to face the parking lot--to find that Harrington wasn't even facing their direction.

Jeff chuckles. 

"Oh screw you!" Eddie shoves  his shoulder into Jeff’s, glowering. 

Jeff playfully nudges him back. "Just go talk to him man. He didn't bite at the party, and he left you that note, so he's clearly open to it." 

"I know.” Eddie grumbles, moving so he could lean against the opposite side of the doorway. 

“So what’s holding you back?” Jeff turns to look at him now, as Eddie tangles a finger into a few strands of his hair. “It’s not like you hesitate instead of jumping into something head first.” 

Eddie hides in his hair for a moment, unsure of how he wanted to handle this question.

Jeff knew he was gay. All the Corroded Coffin guy’s knew he was gay, after the first (and last) time he tried to buy product from a supplier that wasn’t Rick. 

(Eddie was smart, but he’d been young back then. Hadn’t caught on to the fact the weed he’d been sold was laced with who-knew-what. 

What he did know was that when he and the boys tried it out; Grant had given a very emotional speech about love and acceptance, Jeff wouldn’t stop hugging people, Gareth ended up crying over gender issues and Eddie had admitted he was flamingly gay. 

He never bought from another supplier again, even if he did technically owe the guy who’d brought him and his best friends closer together.) 

Being gay wasn’t exactly the issue.

It was being gay, and having a blatant crush on Steve--the guy who the Hellfire kids loved. The guy who had surprised Eddie by being decent and downright fun. 

The guy who kept insisting he and Buckley were “Platonic with a Capital P”and even with Robin climbing all over him like a lemur, he had in fact kept his hands and eyes to perfectly respectable places. 

Who was practically built to appeal to Eddie, between his stupid sexy smile and the weird mystery he was wrapped up in, the same one that caused his smiles to drop the second he knew no one was paying attention. 

Add in the fact he’d played D&D once before and it was like God had made Eddie’s perfect match.

Of course because Eddie’s relationship with a deity of any kind was agonistic at best, they’d made Steve not only the straightest man to ever rule a high school, but also dangled him in front of Eddie constantly. 

Like a treat he could never, ever have, but will always crave. 

“Oh he’s actually waving at you this time.” Jeff says, and despite the high chance of this being another joke, Eddie looks anyway. 

Sure enough there was Harrington, dumb little grin on his face, waving his hand.

Eddie managed to get his brain to function long enough to wave back. 

“Wow Eds, you actually waved at him. That’s a lot of progress for you.” Gareth chimes in, appearing in between his friends with a smirk. 

“We’re proud of you buddy.” Grant adds, standing behind Gareth. 

Eddie groans aloud. “I hate you all.” He mutters, trying to keep a smile on his face for Steve until the guy turns back to herald the children into the car.

“No you don’t.” Gareth sing-songs, to the snickers of Jeff and Grant. 

And no, he doesn't--but fuck if Eddie didn’t want to wring all their necks. 

xXx

January 13th, Eddie finally gets his first resolution breakthrough.

It came in the form of Sinclair’s girlfriend, oddly enough, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“I’m not Lucas’s girlfriend.” The redhead spat, which Eddie thought was a hell of a lot of anger for someone who he had not been formally introduced to but had flung herself into his passenger seat anyway, with a declaration that he would drive her home. 

(He, of course, had been about to protest until Max reminded him with a glare that they were neighbors--which had the effect of making Steve look relieved, like Eddie was doing him some kind of massive favor.

A favor Eddie wanted.

“For totally normal non crush related reasons Gareth, god!”) 

Currently Max is staring out the window as Eddie drives home, arms crossed and in a full sulk.

Eddie recognizes it in her the same way he recognizes it in himself, and knows intimately that he has a chance to be to her, what Wayne was to him.

Someone who didn’t just see the problems he had, but acted on them. 

That began with a conversation. 

“So not that sitting in awkward silence isn’t totally fun, but uh, why am I driving you home instead of Harrington?” Eddie asks, watching Max out of the corners of his eyes. 

She doesn’t even flinch. “What, and miss the chance to ride in the drug mobile?” 

He expects the snappish response but has to give Max credit--she is absolutely the most vicious of Steve’s kids. 

“Ok fair,” He says, because getting angry back was what she wanted. Or at least, what Eddie wanted, back when he was in Max’s shoes. “But don’t all you kids like, worship King Steve? Thought you’d want your beloved babysitting to drive you home..” 

Max’s shoulders hunch immediately, her jaw clenching. “Don’t call him that.”

“Babysitter?” Eddie questions. 

“King Steve, you ass.” She bites back. “If you like him like Lucas and Dustin swear you do, then you wouldn’t be an dick.”  

Quieter, she mutters, “He hates that nickname.” 

“Hate to break it to you, but Steve gave himself that nickname.” Eddie says, if only to buy time while he swallows the fact that the kids have decided he and Steve aren't just cool with each other, but like each other.

Obviously not like-like, as in romantic like, because they weren't psychic, but--

'Focus, idiot! Max is still talking!' 

Max rolls her eyes, huffing angrily as she finally tears her gaze away from the window. “You don’t get it.” 

“I sure as shit don’t and won’t.” Eddie agrees easily, and has to look away to keep the laughter off his face at the confused look it nets him. “Not unless you want to clue me in.” 

She chews over that for a moment, before apparently coming to a decision. “You’re annoying.” 

“Oh come on Red, if you’re gonna insult me at least do it right. Annoying is boring.” Eddie fakes a yawn, and this time does laugh at Max’s outright offended face. 

Thankfully, the antics get him exactly what he wants. 

An answer. 

"Steve saw the real world and decided he wanted to be a better person. To grow up and leave all the stupid high school petty shit behind." Max says, and for a moment it's almost like she's speaking to someone else.

Likely the person she really is mad at, Eddie assumes. 

"Calling him King Steve just takes all that progress away, and for what? Cause you're jealous?" 

She's on a roll now. Eddie remains silent, knowing Max needs to get this out.

That this rant isn't aimed at him. 

"You're mad that things were easy for him? Because newsflash, they weren't. He put in the effort to be a good guy, could even," Max fakes a dramatic gasp, "--apologize!" 

An idea takes shape, both of the unsurprising source of the younger teens' hurt and frustration, and why she at least defends Harrington so hard.

Eddie may not know how exactly Max fits into "The Party" (or even who all is included within it) but it's clear she's just as close to Steve as the rest.

Maybe even a touch moreso, in a way that's eclipsed by Henderson alone. 

Max is still going. "Steve's a genuinely good person and he's earned the right to be acknowledged as one!" 

Her eyes are wet when she finishes and Max angrily swipes at them with her sleeve. 

Eddie knows better than to comment on it, but does take a moment to think her words over. 

"Have you seen it too?" He decides to ask. It's the part that sticks out to him, so it becomes the thread he decides to pull. 

Max blinks. "What?"

"The real world. Have you seen it too?"

"Yeah." Max admits, after a long moment of silence, chewing on her lower lip. "I did. And I wish I hadn't." 

"Sucks huh?"

"You don't know half of it."

"I might not know the exact parts you saw," Eddie agrees, as he pulls up in front of his trailer. "But I have seen plenty of other nasty bits and bobs." 

He puts his van in park. "Just because the monster changes shape doesn't make it any less of a danger, you know?" 

Max sits with that for a moment. Eddie sits with her, his music on even if he has the volume turned down low. 

Waits to see if she'll say more, or if this is all he's getting. 

There’s a slight hesitation--as if for a moment, Max considers opening up--but something in her balks and she opens the door instead. 

“Thanks for the ride.” She grumbles, quiet enough that he almost doesn’t hear, before slamming the door and walking fast to her trailer.

The lights are off, and the car he knows belongs to her mother isn’t in the driveway. 

It’s not unusual to be home alone at this hour. Not for Hawkins kids, and especially not for trailer park kids like them, but for the first time, Eddie finds himself wondering how often she’s alone. 

“Hey, Red!” He calls, as he makes his way out of the van. 

She turns to look at him, and Eddie realizes he must be getting a glimpse of what every adult used to see in him. Fury and discontent, all rolling over a sadness that’s bone deep and afraid to face daylight. 

“You ever wanna explain it to me, you’re welcome to come over.” He says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at his own trailer. 

“Whatever.” Max says with an eye roll, before storming to her front door. 

Eddie waits for the lights to go on, before retreating back to his own house, feeling like he at least established something.

Even if it was just proof that he wasn’t going to blow up or brush her off like everyone else.

xXx  

January 13th's luck didn't end there.

A few hours after Eddie made sure Steve's attack chihuahua child made it home safe, a car pulls up in front of her trailer. 

Curious (and nosey as fuck) Eddie peers out the window to spot Harrington’s Beemer flick its lights off, owner crawling out and up to Max's front door with an arm full of takeout.

Steve stands there for a while, alternating between knocking and not-quite yelling, before finally putting the food down.

Eddie knows now that Steve's some kind of pseudo parent to these kids, that the intent he has towards them is a combination of brotherly and maternal. 

Can't help himself from the opportunity that arises when Harrington moves to peek into one of Max's trailer windows, though. 

"Damn Harrington," Eddie calls out, after quietly slipping onto his front porch. "Didn't know you were the kinda creep to stare into teenage girl's windows."

Steve spins, startled, and nearly goes down on the gravel while doing so. 

Eddie laughs--it's like watching Bambi on ice--but regrets it immediately when the younger man trots over to him. 

Puts his hands up and is about to defend himself out of sheer habit. 

"Is she okay?" Steve asks, trotting up the two steps so he can lower his voice. 

Eddie wiggles his raised hands in a “maybe” sort of gesture before lowering them. 

“She’s fine right now, but she’s definitely upset.” 

Steve hums, peering worriedly at the opposing trailer, takeout food sitting innocently by Max’s door. “

“She’s been upset for a while. I just…” He trails off, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do for her, you know? She’s not as easy to figure out as the others.”

Which isn’t the least bit surprising. At least, it isn’t to Eddie. 

While he can’t speak for their missing fourth member, the remaining three freshmen are the kind to wear their emotions on their sleeves, in their own ways. Mike and Dustin compete for loudest but even Lucas, the most likely to let things go, eventually explodes. 

All Harrington has to do to handle any of their issues is simply see that something is wrong, and then ask about it. 

The drive from the high school to the trailer park took less than fifteen minutes but in them, Eddie knew immediately that Max was far more like himself at heart. Angry at everything and everyone, using insults or humor to distract from her real problems. 

Eddie now was better than he was, the eleven year old kid who’d been dumped on his Uncle, extremely wary of adults and furious at the world at large. 

Like recognizes like though, even if he’s made progress. 

“I think the best thing you can do is keep being there for her.” Eddie admits quietly, because this is an area he can actually provide some insight for.  “That all that anger isn’t going to push you away. Just don’t be surprised if it takes her a while to understand you won’t abandon her like everybody else did.”

“Huh.” Steve says, and Eddie shouldn’t be surprised that Steve is taking him seriously. Not after the not-Christmas party, but he is. 

That’s part of the mystery of Steve Harrington, after all. 

The way Steve never quite reacts the way Eddie thinks he’s going to. 

“If she doesn’t take the food can you let me know?” Steve asks, and he sounds so sad about it that Eddie couldn’t possibly refuse, even if he’d wanted to. 

“Sure thing man.” He agrees. 

Harrington watches Max’s door for a moment longer before heaving himself off the porch with a sigh

“Oh,” He says, turning around partway to his car. “ We’re gonna have a movie night next Friday night. You should come.” 

‘Bing-fucking-go.’ 

“Well how could I say no to the King himself? Tell me the time and I’ll be there.” Eddie says, and then watches Steve’s face as he winces. 

Apparently, Red was right. 

Steve doesn’t rip his head off for the nickname though. Plows right on ahead, as if Eddie hadn’t called him it at all. 

"We were planning on making it just the adults--or at least, not the freshmen.” He nods towards Max’s trailer. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh I’m sure they’re just delighted to be left out.” 

"You’d be surprised.” Steve says with a long-suffering look. “I've been informed I need more adult friends." 

Eddie can’t help but tease, though he softens his voice and grins to take the teeth out of it. "Band geek and a bunch of fourteen years olds not good enough for you?" 

"You’re forgetting my ex girlfriend." Steve adds, with his own self deprecating tone. 

“Well damn  Harrington, guess the town freak might actually be a step up for you!” Eddie says, loving that this version of Steve is willing to banter like this. 

“I dunno man, I think that nickname might be overhyped.” Steve says, and there’s that grin back on his face, the one he wore when he was stealing meaningless corporate trophies out of his father’s office. “I don’t think you’re that freaky at all.” 

He dips down in a movement that takes Eddie a moment to realize is him mimicking the curtsey he had given Eddie at the Christmas party, before getting in the Beemer. 

Then he’s gone, leaving Eddie trying to recover on the porch, wondering if the last part of that conversation actually happened or if he just wanted it so badly he dreamed the whole thing.

(When he looks back over to Max’s trailer, the takeout by the door is gone.) 

xXx 

20 days after New Years and Eddie didn’t know what he expected from a movie night at Steve’s-- but it wasn’t getting his ass kicked at beer pong. 

Of course, this may have been his fault. 

It started when Steve, three beers into a home recording of Animal House, made an off comment about Nancy Wheeler once putting all of Hawkin’s to shame at a party. 

(“Her aim has always been insane.” He'd added, as Nancy rolled her eyes and tried to hide her pleased grin behind a hand.  

Eddie had been a little surprised to see Steve hadn’t been kidding about Nancy coming--but also realized that Steve might have been serious when he’d joked about not really having a lot of friends. 

In Eddie's head, a miniature bat version of himself donned a detective's hat and cape, whipping out a notepad to dutifully write down; ‘Clue one: Steve has very few friends.’

“You, Nancy Wheeler, beat out four teams of dumb jocks…at beer pong?” Eddie asked, in total disbelief. 

“I did.” Nancy told him smugly. “And I could do it again.” 

“Really?” Eddie had said and it hadn’t been intended as a challenge, but it was taken as one.)

 Three games in, the beer having a long run out (they were actually playing “Vodka Shot Ball") and Eddie has to concur. 

Nancy Wheeler was in fact, god’s gift to throwing small orange balls into cups.

“How are you doing this!?” Eddie yells, throwing his hands in the air as Nancy sinks her last shot, Robin shrieking in victory behind her. 

Hand on her hip, Nancy gives him a lazy, smug smile. “I suppose,” She says, tilting her head, sounding for all the world like a cat who’s caught a canary, “--it would be my incredibly good aim.”

 Robin, who previously had been paired with Steve before insisting they switch (and who is more than a little drunk), shouts; “Take that Munson!” before grabbing Nancy’s wrists, pulling her into a dance. 

Laughing, Nancy goes with her, their celebration a stark contrast to the other half of the table where Steve is leaning heavily on his elbows. 

"Alright. Maybe, you do have some ungodly skills." Eddie admits, putting his hands on his head. “Forgive me for doubting you, oh Queen of beer pong.” 

"Oh, now you admit it?" Steve mutters playfully, head hanging low. "Couldn't have done it before I ran out of beer?"

"Hush Harrington, you enjoyed it." Eddie grins knocking a hip into his teammates

He too, is more than a touch drunk, despite having been on Nancy’s team for the prior two rounds. 

Vodka-Shot Ball, as it turns out, is enough to really mess a person up if you miss enough. 

"Did I?” Steve moans, before hiccupping.

(“Harrington you’re a jock, are you missing on purpose!?” Eddie had asked early in this game, when Steve’s shots had gone from fairly decent to fucking abysmal. 

“He’s two shots in, Eddie.” Robin had spoken for her soulmate, as she aimed a ball at a cup. “All those concussions don’t play nice with hard alcohol. Why do you think I switched sides?”

“I’ll remember this betrayal, Rob.” Steve grumbled in response. “See if I ever do your hair for you again.”

Batective Eddie promptly scribbled; ‘Clue Two, Steve has had a lot of concussions and can no longer handle a lot of hard liquor’ down on his notepad, puffing on his little old-timey pipe. ‘Also he does hair.’) 

“Now that Stubbornson over here has finally admitted defeat,” Steve says, “Can we please go lay down? We're way too drunk for another round.” 

“Speak for yourself, Lightweight. I’m fine.” Eddie tells him, walking towards the door to the kitchen.

Of course life cannot tolerate him being smooth and so Eddie walks dead-on into the closed glass door rather than the open one next to it. 

He staggers back and loses his balance, falling hard on his ass. 

“Shit!” Someone curses. 

“You okay Eddie?” Someone else asks.

“Yeah.” He moans, rubbing at his head. 

Wheeler appears next to him, shooing his hands away from his face so she could examine him. 

“You’re an idiot.” Nancy informs him calmly, hands expertly checking his head. Her touch is professional, but Eddie's surprised by it anyway, “But I think you’ll live.” 

Eddie squints up at her. “How come you’re not drunk?” He asks, and okay, yeah, he definitely hears the slur in his voice this time. 

"I only had three drinks across all three games." Nancy informs him sweetly. "None of them were vodka."

"I hate you." Eddie moans dramatically, before opting to lay down on the porch. 

“No you don’t.” Nancy says confidently, and then pats his head, before getting up from her crouch. “How are you doing Steve?”

“Kill me.” Comes Harrington's voice from across the patio, sounding very pathetic. 

Eddie wishes he could pet his head.  

“Denied!” Robin calls out. “Don’t even joke about that dingus, you got too close last summer as it was.”

(Batective Eddie, swaying a little with a beer bottle in his paw, tries to write that down.

He somewhat succeeds.) 

Nancy disappears for a moment and Eddie wills himself to sit up--or at the very least roll to where Harrington and Buckley are. 

"I'm going to drive myself and Robin home.”  Nancy announces as she reappears, alongside a hovering bottled water. 

Gratefully, he takes it.

With a tone that’s only this side of too-sweet, she asks; “Eddie? Would you like a ride?”

He considers it.

On one hand, that means he leaves his van here. So someone else has drive him to get it back in the morning (unless Harrington drives it to him and while Eddie finds himself weirdly unopposed to that idea, he doesn’t want to impose.

…Or inflict the current sad state of his van’s interior on Steve before he knows the guy better.) 

On the other hand, he’s clearly too drunk to drive, which means more time with a drunk Steve Harrington.

That’s gotta be good for figuring out clues, right? 

(In his head, Batective Eddie shoots him a thumbs up from where he lays, facedown on the floor.) 

 "If I get into a car I’m going to hurl." He announces. “So I’m gonna pass.” 

Nancy makes a very unlady like noise, and Eddie grins, finally managing to lurch up to his elbows. “Nancy Wheeler was that a snort!?” He teases gleefully, as she rolls her eyes. 

“Maybe.” She says, then holds out a hand. 

Eddie slaps his in it, but does his best not to pull on her. Instead he mostly uses her for balance as he works his way to his feet. 

“You guys get home safe okay?” Steve says, voice uncharacteristically serious as Robin helps him up from the pool chair he'd collapsed in. “Check in when you do.” 

That’s weird--Eddie half expects it to be some sort of inside joke or macho, alpha man type comment but instead both Robin and Nancy nod seriously. 

“We will.” Nancy promises. “Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Nice meeting you properly, Eddie.” 

She gifts him with a smile, an honest one, before guiding Robin out the door. 

Who screams; “Bye losers, love you!” as she exits.  

(Eddie thinks this might be another moment for Batective Eddie except he’s sort of getting a headache and kinda just wants to sleep rathe than envision his Sherlock Holmes styled bat-self.) 

They follow the ladies in, Eddie beelining for the first cough he sees. 

“You can sleep it off here.” Steve tells him, zombie-walking to his fridge. He pulls out a soda and chugs it as Eddie falls face first into couch cushions, taking a moment to let his stomach settle before adjusting to a better position. 

"Nah I'm just gonna close my eyes for a second." Eddie mumbles. “Be fine in a ‘lil bit, promise.” 

Does so, and enjoys the sweet, sweet darkness that envelops him. 

He jerks awake a moment later, blinking hard in the dark. A blanket has been draped over him, and his shoes kicked off, though judging from where they landed Eddie thinks he’s done that part himself.

A glance at his wristwatch reveals it's 1 AM, and Eddie goes to scrub his eyes with his hands.

Shit, he hadn't intended to stay this long. 

Harrington’s creepy Christmas shit’s all gone, replaced by walls so blank they look almost sterile. 

It creates a different, quieter vibe that's almost more spooky than the Santa-themed tomb Eddie had previous seen. The large windows throw shadows across the open space, like elongated fingers. It covers parts of the room in thick darkness, giving the appearance than anything could be hiding within them. 

There's blankets on the couch catty-corner to Eddie’s. They're rucked up, and the sound of running water abruptly clues Eddie in to where Steve might be. 

A golden glow erupts from the kitchen, then off again, before repeating the pattern.  

( Batective Eddie returns with a squeak, frantically waving a sign. 

It reads ‘Steve is afraid of flickering lights, remember!?’) 

The noise in the kitchen has gone eerily quiet. The bad kind, that makes the hairs on his neck stand up, and Eddie rolls off the couch and to his feet, making his way to the kitchen. 

Comes around the corner to see Steve frozen halfway to the stove, his head craned upward at the ceiling lights. 

Eddie knew that whatever had happened, a clear trigger for all those involved (the kids, Harrington, hell even Nancy Wheeler that one time in the library--) was electrical issues in lights. 

He clears his throat, the sound coming out like more of a growl. He coughs to clear it, then sidles closer. 

Steve has a stillness to his body that Eddie doesn’t clock until it’s too late, his hand already reaching out to tap the taller man’s shoulder. 

"Hey, uh Steve?"

Gets the shock of his life when Steve yanks his shoulder away, spinning back and around like he's been burned. 

Eddie gets a flash of wide brown eyes, glassy and wild, before a frying pan is swung at his head. 

"What the hell Harrington!" Eddie yelps, falling down on his ass and scrambling backwards, pan missing his head by inches. 

(Envisions in his head his Batective self throwing his notes in the air, taking flight with a startled “Fleeeee!”)

Harrington stands over him. Looks just like Wayne did that one time a car battery caught fire and exploded near the trailer. 

Like he was somewhere else, and prepared to do what he had to in order to get back. 

Chest heaving, Eddie put aside all thoughts of stupid bats and did what he did best.

Talked.

xXx

20 days after New Years, Steve almost takes Eddie's head off with a frying pan. 

Doesn't realize he's swung it like a weapon until he hears the surprised shout, his brain too steeped in adrenaline and old fears. 

Freezes, because the shout sounds like one of the kids but he doesn’t remember them being here...

"--eve?"

"What?" He asks, the ringing slowly easing as his tunnel vision does. 

He'd heard the growl, saw the lights flicker…

A gentle hand presses into his bicep, and he finds himself staring into Eddie Munson’s eyes. 

The guy has a sort of look on his face that says he's trying his best not to freak out, but then Steve blinks and it's gone. 

Replaced with something gentle, if cautious. 

"You wouldn't mind if I just," Eddie trails off as his ringed fingers slowly stroke down Steve's arm, before carefully taking hold of the pan’s handle. "--took this, aye love?"

It's the nickname that brings Steve back fully, and he loosens his grip on the pan, surrendering it to Munson. 

"Thank you Steve." He says, leaning to put the pan back on the stove, far out of Steve's current reach. 

Then his hands return to Steve's wrists, and he finds himself staring at them in confusion.

Not because he doesn't know what happened--he does.

It's  more that he's shocked Eddie is still willing to touch him after he nearly brained him. 

"There's egg on the floor." Steve says, because it's the easiest thought to have at the moment. 

Easier than apologizing. 

Definitely easier than explaining.

"We'll clean the egg up later." Eddie says firmly, and Steve's never heard him use that tone of voice before. Firm and unyielding, like he has all the answers.

It's the kind of voice Steve can surrender his anxiety to and he finds himself almost sinking into it. 

If Munson asked him to walk over a cliff just then, he would be more than a little tempted.

"Let's go sit down, just for a few minutes." Eddie tells him, a gentle tug on his wrists and Steve finds himself breathing out, his body shivering with the release of stress. 

He nods, unable to speak, and allows himself to be maneuvered out into his living room, then down on one of the loveseats. 

Eddie sits next to him, his thigh a line of grounding heat pressed against Steve's leg and he focuses on it to keep himself in the present. 

"You back with me?"

Steve works his throat, hyper aware of how dry it is. "Yeah." He says.

Then adds, "sorry."

"Don't apologize, man. I've done plenty of trip sitting in my day. I know a panic attack when I see one."

Steve vaguely wants to ask what the hell trip sitting is, but finds himself unconsciously leaning towards Eddie instead. 

Somehow he doesn't mind, even though Steve's practically squished up against him. Not that Eddie's ever been one to care about personal space, but Steve knows there's a difference between a teasing joke and whatever this is. 

Eddie's thumb begins to rub gentle, grounding circles into the meat of Steve's wrist. 

It gives his eyes something to track and gratefully Steve does, so he doesn't have to look Eddie in the face. 

Isn't sure he can clear the tears trying to wet his eyes in time to brush this off. 

Claim it's nothing serious.

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks and somehow Steve didn't account for how direct the metalhead could be.

The tears strengthen and for a moment his vision blurs with them, before he sucks in a shuddering breath and forces himself back under control. 

'God Steven, toughen up.' His father's voice rings out in his head, the memory branded into Steve's very being. 'It's ridiculous how much you cry. Do you think anyone wants to put up with that?'

Steve had answered no then, tone wobbling. 

"I--" He starts, "--signed an NDA."

Which is not, at all, what he meant to say, but too late now. 

"The cops and I aren't exactly on speaking terms, your secrets are safe with me." Eddie says, entirely unphased. 

Which ghosts a smile over Steve’s face at least, even as he finds himself totally lost. 

How exactly is he supposed to explain this? 

The Upside Down, the Russians, hell even the way he's become hyper vigilant?

That certain words or references act like bullets, sending him to the floor in a spiral of burning panic? 

Nevermind his finely honed instinct to use anything as a weapon when startled.

Sensing his discomfort, Eddie hums quietly before making a suggestion. "How about you tell me a totally fake, very unreal  story?"

Steve croaks a laugh. 

"I'm a really bad story teller." He warns. 

"Practice makes perfect." Eddie tells him, leaning his shoulder into the taller man's. 

Grateful--and feeling more than a little pathetic--Steve finds himself seeking out the touch. 

"Okay." He agrees quietly, with a jerky nod of his head. "A--completely untrue, over exaggerated story. I can do that." 

So he does. 

xXx 

The story Steve tells in halting, fumbling bursts of words involves monsters, the supernatural, government secrets and coverups. 

The latter half of which doesn't even surprise Eddie--anyone with half a brain could see the sheer number of incidents that happened one after another was a cover up for something big-- but he can't help himself from trying to detangle reality from fiction. 

Monsters he gets. It's easier to pretend the bad guy is an evil creature than a real person, to distance yourself from it in such a way it feels fake. 

The supernaturally gifted girl is a little harder, but if you replace superpowers with some poor kid involved in some kind of shitty, abusive government program, then he can buy it. 

What Steve never explains, is what set him off. 

Eddie tells him so. 

"I told you I was a bad storyteller." Steve says in response, which isn’t an explanation but then, Eddie realizes he is pushing awful hard for a guy who he barely knows to bare his soul--and who, in turn, barely knows him.

Not really anyway.

Not outside of rumors and old wounds. 

"Is there anything that ever helps you feel safer?" 

"People." Steve says immediately. "People always help but ah, well." His smile is pained, self deprecating. "I can't exactly ask for sleepovers every night, can I?”

He shrugs. “So I just keep a few things close.' 

"A few things?"

"My nailbat."

"Is the nailbat a bat…with nails in it?" Eddie hedges, desperately attempting to keep a calm, straight face because what the fuck? 

But this was a no judging zone, and it wasn’t as if a bat with nails in it was the weirdest thing Eddie had ever encountered. Not since Uncle Wayne’s friends informed him they had at minimum, seventeen guns hidden in their own trailer across town. 

‘Things are happening at night, kid. Bad things. Don’t go too far into the woods looking for trouble.’

"Maybe." Steve admits. 

"How about instead of hugging a nail bat to sleep, if things get bad you come over. Wayne works the night shift and I have insomnia anyways." 

"Really?" 

Eddie can’t blame him for sounding surprised. 

"Yeah man. No skin off my nose, though you will be stuck hearing my beautiful sweetheart. She's a guitar sent from heaven. "

"I can handle that." He says, a smile ghosting across his face. 

Then; "Thanks Eddie."

Eddie presses his shoulder against Steve’s. "Anytime, big boy." 

(Crisis over, Batective Eddie returns, swooning. 

Eddie mentally squashes him under his own notes.) 

#I wasnt gonna write more of this but ya'llk talked me into it #Eddie doodles batective eddie everywhere #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve needs a hug #steddie fluff #0o0 fanfics #I guess this would be the new years special #god does that mean I should finish it with valentines day #nancy and eddie friendship supremacy

[zoeykallus]

Hello there! My request is the reader (gender neutral) is offered to dog sit Grizzer. But the reader loses him, chaos happens but the reader manages to find Grizzer before Hound comes back.

BTW I love all of your writings :)

Aloha!

Sorry for being so late, I'm slowly catching up with old requests 😬

I'm not good at harmless, fluffy stuff like this, but I'm trying 😅

Hound x GN!Reader – One-Shot – Grizzer On The Loose

Warnings: Slightly Angsty/Fluffy/SFW

____________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

____________

>Master List<

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'Of course, I can keep an eye on Grizzer' you assured him, 'no problem at all'. Now it turns out that it is a problem after all. Somehow, the dog made off on your walk. You just had a quick chat, didn't look for a second, and Grizzer's gone. His leash is chewed off, the dog obviously had no patience with you. You call and whistle, but the animal doesn't show itself and doesn't let you hear anything from it. Normally, Grizzer responds very well, even to you. Hound has taught you how to handle him, what commands are important. But it doesn't matter what you do, Grizzer just doesn't show himself. Slowly, panic rises in you and your heart pounds up to your throat. Your steps quicken, you look around every corner, down every alley, calling out for the animal again and again. You curse softly to yourself, run down the alley and along the park, several times, ask passers-by if they have seen anything, but to no avail. At a street corner you stop, take a deep breath and look around. "This just can't be happening," you mutter quietly to yourself, "Hound is going to be so angry and disappointed in me."

You curse and clench your hands into fists. "This just can't be true"

Meanwhile, with Hound: The sun is shining, warm but not too obtrusive, a gentle breeze is blowing across the shore and the river. Hound has a day off for the first time in a long time. He's with a couple of his brothers on a little fishing trip that's been planned for a long time. Perfect peace and quiet, no pressure, no work. Actually he had wanted to take Grizzer with him, he loves the animal, but you had suggested taking care of the dog, so that Hound can really enjoy a day of complete rest. "Where is your four-legged friend? You don't usually leave home without him," asks one of his brothers. Hound answers with pride in his voice, "I have someone. Grizzer is in the best hands." But then he looks thoughtful. He misses the dog and you. Actually he's never fished before, that was the idea of one of his brothers who got it from that Hunter guy from CF99. Now that he's sitting here thinking about it like this, he'd rather be with you and Grizzer. "I don't think this is for me," he says as he starts to pack up his stuff. His brothers look at him questioningly.

"I'm going back" His brothers roll their eyes, but don't try to stop him. In fact, they have bets on how long it will take Hound to want to go back. He's never away from his dog for long, and he always cancels most trips because of it. So they are not really surprised.

Grizzers view: So many smells! Must explore everything! Nostrils quivering. So exciting! Wait a minute, where did my guardian go? Grizzer looks around, sniffs. He smells you, picks up your scent, runs. Then he sees you. Found them! Are we going home now? But before he reaches you, another smell distracts him. A food truck passes between you. Again, nostrils quiver. FOOD! Grizzer knows very well that he is only allowed to eat what he is given, but his master is not there, maybe he can make an exception. FOOD WAIT FOR ME!

You turn around, out of a feeling, your eyes darting back and forth, but you see nothing. You sigh wistfully. When your com beeps, you flinch, startled. It's Hound. For a moment, you think about not answering it, but that seems wrong. "Hi. How's it going?" asks Hound cheerfully. "Great!" you blurt out, "Everything's fine." "Really? Grizzer didn't give you any trouble?" You get hot and cold, you want to tell him the truth, but automatically you say instead, "Grizzer is behaving very decently, we're having a lot of fun." Hound laughs softly, "I'm glad to hear that, in a few hours we can have dinner together, I'll be back a little early." You get hot and cold. "Earlier? Oh, really? Trip's not as good as expected?" you ask innocently as sweat breaks out. Hound says, cautiously, "Well, it's not bad, but I miss you and Grizzer". That was incredibly sweet, but right now, unfortunately, you can't really appreciate it.

"Oh, wow, that's.... really sweet. When will you be back?"

"In about three hours, my shuttle lands," Hound says excitedly, "Will you two pick me up at the landing site?" "Sure!" you say, almost choking your voice. "Great, I'm looking forward to seeing you both".

Grizzer: The food truck is too fast, the four-legged friend has to give up the chase. He pants, a little out of breath. A disappointed snort is heard, then Grizzer turns around and walks a little more leisurely back the way he came. He's hungry, but he's sure the guardian will feed him when he gets home. Even if it doesn't smell as good as the food truck. Hunger finally quickens his steps. His paws tap across the ground in quick time. It takes a little while, but he picks up your scent again and follows it, all the way back to the park. Grizzer finds you in the park, sitting on a park bench. Somehow you smell different than usual, strangely bitter. He knows that smell, you're sad. Maybe he should bring you a present.

You have only a few minutes left before you have to run to the landing platform and confess to Hound that you have lost Grizzer. You feel heavy, a knot in your stomach, pressure on your chest. You feel so sorry. You worry about the animal and of course what Hound will say and feel, he loves Grizzer. He loves you too, but maybe soon he won't anymore, you think bitterly. Suddenly, something nudges you from the side. Your eyes grow huge, your heart leaps. It's Grizzer, who has fished an empty fast-food package out of the trash and is holding it out to you, wiggling happily. "Grizzer!" Hastily, you tie the torn leash back onto his collar, with a double knot. You pet the dog, actually wanting to scold, but you are far too relieved to do so. Your eyes wander along the dog's body, and you are relieved to see that he has no injuries. "Okay, let's go, we're going to be late!" Grizzer has no idea what you're saying, but you're obviously happy about the gift, because you smell very different now.

You get to the platform just in time as the shuttle lands. As Hound runs down the ramp, you beam at him and Grizzer fidgets excitedly. You see the wide smile on Hound's face and feel a wave of relief wash over you. He immediately embraces you, kissing your cheek. You are so happy and relieved that your knees almost buckle. "I missed you," Hound says softly, kissing the corner of your mouth. "You've barely been gone ten hours," you say, laughing softly. "Still," Hound says with a grin, finally crouching down to greet Grizzer. "Hey boy, have you been good? Have you been a good dog?" Grizzer wiggles excitedly and nuzzles into Hound's petting. But then his hands wander to the collar and Hound sees the knot and that the leash has been broken. "Sure nothing special happened?" he asks, looking up at you from his crouch. You smile, nervous but as composed as possible.

"Well, he got loose once, but that wasn't too tragic," you explain hastily. Hound looks at the animal and asks, "Grizzer, weren't you such a good boy after all?" The dog tilts his head to the side and looks at his master, uncomprehending. "That wasn't so bad," you say, waving it off, "He was actually quite well-behaved." Hound laughs softly. "All right, if you say so" He takes the leash from you, grabs your hand and says, "Let's go shopping for groceries, we'll cook something together at your house" You breathe a sigh of relief and nod. So happy this panic is over. "That's a great idea"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@starwarsnerd111

#star wars #clones #hound #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #Hound x reader #Hound One-Shot #Hound fanfiction #grizzer #star wars clone wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #clone x reader #star wras x reader #sfw

[kuwdora]

A little Doctor Sleep ficlet! Billy/Danny. Angst, Ghosts/character death, hurt/comfort. References to past alcoholism. ~700w. Takes place towards the end of the film. also on ao3 I'm smiling upside down

The more the hotel continues to wake up, the more Danny feels the years pressing down on him. He slumps onto the couch in the lobby, pointedly ignoring the siren call of the bar. The end was so close now. If Danny can’t save Abra from Rose, she would be Rose’s latest feast. He wasn’t sure he would be able to hold on if that happened. Not without Abra. Not without Billy. He’d embraced his sobriety with a broken heart and shattered soul, and he’d actually come through. Had made good little life for himself. Without any them, there was no starting over for Danny. Rose was just as likely to siphon him for years if Danny failed tonight.

All the pain and fear he’d neatly tucked away with his visitors are bleeding through the cracks of his mind. Danny looks down at his lap and pushes aside the memory of how good the whiskey glass feels in his hand.

Beside him the couch doesn’t move, because there’s no earthly weight to the presence, but the spirit that settles there is as familiar a body curling next to him. Longing and grief clutches Danny’s heart.

He hazards a glance, blinking back the tears. Danny doesn’t want to be reminded of his death, but he misses Billy so much. Blood trickles down the sides of Billy’s head and face from the gunshot wound. He’s still handsome, if not care-worn. Charming. Just a little more sad in the eyes. Billy looks at him with basset-hound eyes and a fond smile. Billy, his best friend. Who had become his friend long before Danny even knew what a real friend was.

He was a friend who’d seen Danny at his worst and watched as he put himself together piece-by-piece for almost a decade. The friend who had given him a home and a community. Who had played Scrabble with him on Sunday afternoons in the park. Billy who had introduced Danny to the library’s vast media shelves. They had watched everything from Jean Claude van Damme and Sylvester Stallone’s entire filmographies, all the way to the Sundance collection that Delilah, their favorites librarian, had foisted upon them; she had regularly cajoled Danny and Billy into writing local reviews for the library’s monthly movie events because she loved their commentaries.

Billy. His friend who became more to him. Became everything for Danny. Billy who had first kissed him on a couch like this two years ago.

Danny had brought home a director’s cut of Ladyhawke from the library’s latest acquisitions and they weren’t even 10 minutes into the film when Billy handed him an unopened Pepsi, a bowl of popcorn, and kissed him right on the lips. No questions asked, but all of the bashful apologies after. Danny had never needed an apology. He’d never kissed a man while sober. Never been been kissed by a sober man, actually. The desire and thrill was wholly different than Danny could have dreamed of because of how much he cared for Billy. Danny had carefully re-shaped his quiet desires to resemble a platonic line he would never cross. But then Billy had cupped his neck and his beard tickled Danny’s face. Danny’s stomach did a backflip into a new dimension. He’d eagerly kissed Billy back and Billy pulled Danny into his lap, and that’s how they spent the rest of the film together.

There wouldn’t be anymore more movie nights with Billy. No more snuggling in bed. Nothing would be the same.

“I’m proud of you. You know the right thing is never always going to be the easy thing,” Billy says and squeezes Danny’s knee.

Danny sniffs and looks away, shaking his head over and over. He frowns deeply.

Billy lifts Danny’s chin and turns his face. The touch is welcomed, but so cold and hollow. Danny’s heart breaks into even more pieces as Billy smiles.

“I love you, Danny Torrence.”

“I love you, Billy. Gonna really miss you,” Danny says, looking past the blood and viscera and pain, losing himself in Billy’s eyes.

Billy wipes away a tear from Danny’s cheek and kisses him gently.

“I’m so tired,” Danny says, and he takes a shaky breath.

Danny holds onto Billy as long as he can, until another wave of anger and hunger cascades through the hotel.

also on ao3

#doctor sleep #my fic

[cuntwrap--supreme]

At the park and this big hound dog lopes up to my dogs and tries mounting them both. No warning, no introductory sniffs, nothing. Just fully out dog dick trying to rape my dogs. The older dog doesn't have enough energy to defend herself most of the time, so she's just baring her teeth and growling. Younger dog can and will attack unfixed males just for being around her (a trie feminist). So I'm trying to move this dog away while his person is like a quarter mile back still, faintly yelling at him, and my younger dog just gets this other dog by the throat. Old man who owns the dog starts running toward me, but I already have his dog like pinned to the ground. He's trying to bite at me, but I have two big dogs who I absolutely got into fights with in their angsty teenage dog phases and I know how to pin a bitch without hurting them, just long enough for them to calm down. Guy comes up, asks what the hell I think I'm doing. I say this is a lot more painful than what my dog was going to do, that he needs to get his dog under fucking control. Said if his dog is going to just mount any other dog he sees, he needs to be kept on a leash or in a fenced yard. Man tells me not to tell him how to train his dog. I said he clearly wasn't training his dogs. My dogs actually behave. This isn't on them. The only time they don't listen is if they see a squirrel (or other small animal) before me, and the younger one (as I'd said) will attack unfixed males who are getting too frisky. I swear, if I meet another person with a big ass dog who has not taken the time to learn how to control such a big animal, I will steal their dog and take it to the local shelter.

#here i am bitching about untrained dogs again #untrained dog epidemic #do you know how easy it is to train most dogs? #and this was a hound. notoriously easy to train and very obedient. #but nope. this old fucker just got this dog and clearly hasn't done shit to train him. #best tool in his arsenal is a fucking rape whistle? that he would blow at his dog? what? #i am also absolutely not above fighting a strange dog if it's messing with my dogs #i went the opposite way as this guy and now he's turned around and is following me. i might beat him up too. #feeling pugnacious

[sparkbeast20]

A Hellhound's new purpose (MC and Cerberus)

This is part 3 of A human's best friend is a Hellhound Pt2

This take place at the end of the Angelic event. and Inspired by the Ao3 fanfic Angelic Desecration by Scarlet_Streak

Summary: Finally you and the three hounds made it to town, and ready to grab some food, and maybe do a little bit of sight seeing. However the seven lords are in town looking for a human and one big hellhound.

Warning: Swearing, Doubts, Mention of attempt Sexual assault, Self-hatred, and Cer, Bee, and Rus being the good doggos

All the brothers made it to the park, all to find that the place is lacking a giant hellhound and a human.

All turn to Satan, who narrows his brows at them, knowing fully well that they are silently judging him.

"They both have legs! obviously they'll wouldn't stay in one place for too long, now would they!" Satan made his defense before he walks over to his contact and start yelling at him for the late information.

Lucifer sighs and start walking around to see any evident that you two were here.

As Beel and Mammon follow behind him, leaving Asmo, Levi and Belphie standing.

"How could MC be this reckless to bring Cerberus out of the house!" Levi fiddling with the wire of his headset, as he said that.

"I'm more impress that they manage to move around with Cerberus without drawing attention" Asmo added.

"Maybe they don't want to get some attention, and trying their damndest not to be see by us" Belphie mutters it, and just looks down on the ground. He sounded hurt.

Asmo sense that Belphie knows something about the why you been acting. He was about to pry more information from Belphie, when suddenly he smell something in the air, a lingering scent of arousal.

Then suddenly they all hear someone screaming to be let go. All three look over to the left and see Beel holding a demon by the neap of their neck high enough that he's dangling off the ground.

"Beel, what are you-"

"They have MC scent on them!" All three brothers eyes widen, with Asmo sniff and realize that the scent of arousal is coming off from the demon.

Asmo quickly march over and grab the demon by the throat, as Beel let go. "Why the fuck you have my darlings scent and that you're horny as fuck!" He tighten his grip, causing the demon to choke.

"I-I thought that It would be easy to have my-my way with them since they are already have been with all of you-" they did even get to finish when Lucifer grab their hair and tear away from Asmo's grasp.

Then he turn the demon towards him as he looks at them right in the eye, with pure rage filled them with a cold and emotionless face.

"Tell us where is our beloved before I give you a quick death"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

The sound of demons walking, chatting, muffle music from inside the store and cafes, and the lights shining the streets makes it feel like your back home in the human world.

You never realize that walking down the streets of devildom can be feel so nostalgic.

Maybe because no one is trying to kill or eat you.

You are finally free to look around and really take in the scenery of the streets and shops, while demons doesn't see you as a human.

Once you stop staring at the store, you draw you're attention back in front of you, see how the three pups are doing.

Cer is prancing on the right without a care in the world with his tongue sticking out. Then on the left Rus is alert with his low and looking around. And finally you saw Bee with his ears perk up walking straight with his chest puff up.

You feel like a celebrity with the three hounds as your bodyguards. It just warm your heart just see them so happy and still looking out for you. And a couple of times you saw both Cer and Rus perk and gesturing you to see what they see.

With Rus a couple of demons with their pets, while Cer is stores with moving displays and signs. One of which has Mammon in posting of a spring sale.

But to your surprise when you saw Bee glances over to a Welcome poster with Lucifer and Diavolo standing in the middle.

You could just walk down these streets and never get tired of just being with Cer, Bee, and Rus.

After a couple of streets, you four finally arrived at the devildom pet store. And stood in front of the entrance.

Then you crouch down, as they turn and look at you.

"Okay guys, I won't be long. I'll just buy accouple of treats and maybe a brush too. You three stay here and wait for me, okay." Bee nodded, while both Cer and Rus bark in responds.

You felt giddy, and couldn't help but to squishes their faces before patting them all on the head, then head inside the store.

Once inside, you immediately look around and see the dog food band that Lucifer always feed them.

Then you remember the time that you and Beel were asks to buy dog food, because he accidentally ate them, thinking that they were a new type of snack.

You quickly grab three bags of the dog food with two brushes and head straight to the counter, only to be greeted with a line.

This might take a while.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Meanwhile outside the store, Bee sat straight staring at the door. Waiting for you to come out. While Cer lay on his back trying to enjoy having his own body and Rus lay down, occasionally glancing over his brothers.

When suddenly Cer felt something, and quickly sat up as his ears perk up.

"BEE!!! Did you felt that!" Bee just sighs before turning his head towards his brothers.

"What~ needing to pee? Well that's good for us, It's finally good not to be drag by you're sorry head every ten mins" Rus said it sarcastically

"No Rus! Its the something else! like his here...."

"Yes Cer, I felt that. However, I choice to ignore it, and perhaps so should you. You might get your hopes up for nothing"

"Maybe it is him! and that his finally back!" Cer perk up and start to get excited.

It's amazing how these three have a telepathic link with one another, as if their talking, but without moving their mouths.

Then Rus growls and huffs.

"NO! that's the angel again! Haven't you learn by now to not just trust your instinct in the first senses! You did the same thing three days ago! And again with was the same creepy nice angel. FACE IT! His never coming back!" Rus snarl at Cer, who whimpers and back down.

"Th-Th-That's not true! He is here! and this time I know for sure!" But Rus barks at Cer. Then Bee barks at Rus.

"Enough! how many times we have to argue like this." He snarl and showing domains, making Cer and Rus to stand down. "And even if it was Master. Master's mate is in a dangerous place. As such, is our job to make to make sure Master's belonging are well guarded and that include his mate."

The two hounds nodded in agreement, as Bee compose himself, and look back at the door.

If anything we're to happen to you, Bee can't forgive himself. He doesn't want to disappoint his master, when ever he comes back from one of his trips. And he really doesn't want to get his brothers in trouble.

His alpha, as such he is responsible for you and his brothers.

He'll make his master proud, that he promise himself.

Minutes go by and Cer starts to feel jumpy. He couldn't shake the sense of his master. In each passing second he get more angsty. To the point he couldn't contain himself.

"Aaahh! I can't take it anymore! I can sense Master close by" Cer jump up from where his seating then begins run and following his senses. Leaving an anger Bee, and growling Rus.

"Fucking knew it! The second we are separated. Cer would've been the first one to run off! And if he comes back crying because he was wrong don't blame me for telling him 'I told you so!'" Rus calls it.

Bee groans, before standing up.

"Rus stay here, and make sure Master's mate is safe and guarded. I'll go and get Cer back here." Rus can only huffs and nodded, before Bee ran after Cer, leaving Rus alone.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

You blink and look to the side, before looking back at Rus.

"Rus... where's Bee and Cer?" but Rus just barks, and you let out a sigh. "Well crap. I guess we have to wait for them, huh?" and he just gave you a nod.

You just glad that he knows that the other two will come back, however you can't just stand in front of the door to the pet store. You look around and saw a bench nearby, and tell Rus to follow you to the bench.

Your focus on the bench, you didn't see the demon walk. The two of you bump causing you to stumble back.

"Hey watch where you...." You trail off as your heart start ponding, and eyes widen but the demon in front of you.

"Oi watch it! yer lucky that I'm busy with somethin' else otherwise You'll be seeing stars!" Mammon towers over you, as he grants.

"I-I...." You couldn't even form words, as so many mix emotion comes to you.

Happy that you see him at his casual clothes, Sad that you been avoiding him and the brothers, Angry that he just threaten you.

You both miss him, and want to stay away from him.

"What should I do...." You hands being to tremble as your eyes are unfocused, with your breathing start to be uneven "Shit! I-I think I'm having a panic attack"

"Oi aren't ya gonna say sorry or what!" He step closer, getting into your personal space.

*BARK* *BARK*

Mammon stiffed and quickly look down to see Rus Barking at him with his back fur stood up, and showing his teeth at the demon of greed. Mammon quickly face him with his hands up in chest level.

"Oi, Oi, Oi! easy there Fido." Then he slowly back away.

"Hey Moron! what are you doing!" you jump at the sound of Levi's voice. You look over your shoulder to see him, rushing over, with Satan right behind him.

You can't handle this, or the brothers right now without breaking down.

Without wasting a single second, you turn heel and ran, with Rus right behind you.

You hear calling you to get back there and apologies, but you ignore it and ran to a corner, before manage to find an alleyway and quickly made a dash of it. And lean to the wall, as you try to control your breathing. Before sliding down and drop the bags of dog food and quickly grab your face as tears start falling.

You hate yourself! why would you run away from your lovers, are you really that selfish? They're clearly back to normal with no angel traits on them anymore.

So why hide from them?

Maybe you realize that you're being a horrible partner and not accepting all of them.

You hate the you can't be comfortable with them as Angels.

But at the same time how could you be comfortable with it, when the brothers are clearly under the curse.

But it's their angels selves! what they were in the past.

If that was truly what they were, and the curse just brought it back at the for front. Then why be uncomfortable with it?

All these mixed emotions makes you feel disgusted with yourself.

Rus never lost you as you two ran from the brothers, he slowly walk over to your side with his ears down and head lowered, then he slowly reaches forward and lick your arm.

You gasps for a moment, before throw your arms to the hound, wrapping him and pulling him closer to you, as you cry and wail in pain bury your face on the hounds neck.

"Rus *sob* am-am *sob* I a bad person.... *sob* why can't I just move pass this *sob*-" You hug the hound tighter as you sob "Their back to they're old selves *sob* but are these selves true? or just them being demons *sob* I don't what to do *sob*"

Rus can feel your distress, your confuse about your feelings.

He might not have the full picture, but that's not really important. All he needs to do is stay by your side, and comfort you.

He leans closer and nuzzle his face to your cheek, as small whimpers escapes from him. Which made you hug him tighter. Knowing that you aren't alone and that Rus is sobbing with you, made this a lot less scary.

"*sob* Thank you Rus *sob* Thank you *sob*"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

"What was that? who was that demon?" Levi asks

"And why we're you scared by a regular dog?" Satan added.

"You crazy! regular or hellhound. No one likes being barked at!"

"Papa!"

"Eh?" all three startle by a familiar voice, but Mammon jumps by something the leaches on his leg.

"Father you're here too!" a second voice cause Levi to stiff, and look down to see Little D 3 waving at him.

"N-N-No. 3! Y-Y-You shouldn't go around saying that! What if people get the wrong idea! I don't think I can handle the drama or the gossip!"

Both No. 3 and 2 chuckles, with the latter hugging Mammon's legs.

"You're right! It is funny when we call them that! I can't wait to tell the rest of the little d's" No. 3 laughs with his tiny hands over his mouth.

Satan just sighs bringing his hand over his forehead, closes his eyes, "Look I appreciate a good teasing of my brothers"

"Hey!" which both say in unison

"But we done have time for this game of playing house. We're out here looking for MC and Cerberus-"

"Wait! you mean to tell us that you don't know that their here!" Satan eyes quickly open and looks down at No. 3

"Yes! We heard from a unreliable source that they might be here in town."

"Well their right! MC and Cerberus are here. In fact we helped them with Cerberus 'size' problem."

"Size problem?"

"Yeah! We taught MC a familiar spell, it was amazing! they turned Cerberus into three different dogs with even a different breed each!"

Satan eyes widen at the word dog.

"What are the breeds?"

"Hm? lets see..... Oh! a Pitbull, a Doberman, and a Rottweiler!"

At that moment Satan internally curse at himself, for not put two and two together.

The way he saw that other demon react towards Mammon and how they seem to be in shock in fear, when another demon would just start an argument with his brother. And the Rottweiler.

"MAMMON! That Demon was MC in disgust with one of Cerberus's heads!"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Cer maneuvered through the crowd of demons, with Bee not far behind him.

Suddenly Cer starts barking excitedly, causing Bee to look over his brother while still running.

Bee is shocked as everything around him slowed down. He couldn't believe it, Cer was right.

It's him!

Far in the distants, Bee and Cer sees Lucifer standing in his whole glory with a stir look on his face, with his arms cross over his chest.

Master..... Papa has return!

That was Bee was thinking as he and Cer rushes forward. He smile as the two start barking.

Lucifer seem to hear the barking, causing him and Beel to look over to side to see two dogs running towards them.

Before the two lords can react, the two hounds makes their way over and start circling Lucifer and Beel, while Cer jumping on Beel and yep happily with the sixth born before jumping off and continue to run around again.

Then Beel nose twitches and begins to sniff.

"Lucifer. I smell Cerberus on these two."

Lucifer took a small sniff and realize that Beel is right.

"Cerberus" the two dogs stop and looks at Lucifer. "Sit!" and immediately the two hounds sit.

Just the way he said it and how it demands to be listened and obeyed. They knew this is was him.

Finally their master is back, the master who they respect, who they both fear and love, the same demon who found and raised them.

And the demon they known to be their Papa.

Bee sat with his head and chest up high, giving the best form he can to Lucifer, and Cer sat with a big smile on his doggy face.

"Good. At least this time, you two are listening to me now." the two hounds bark in responds, which Lucifer smirks at. "Tell me.... is your brother with MC?" Bee was the one to bark in response.

"That's great Lucifer! At least MC is with one of them-"

"Yes, which made this job much more easier. Because once I find them, I'll make sure they'll never do something this stupid again." Both hounds and Beel's faces drops as Lucifer words.

"Look, I know that MC shouldn't have left the house with Cerberus alone. But maybe they have a reason to-" but Lucifer looks at Beel cutting him off he looks into Lucifer's piercing red eyes.

"Beelzebub, don't try to make some excuse for them. They've been acting like a child for the past week. They have no reason to act like this, let alone take my hound in place of our protection!" Lucifer is fuming sensing his master's anger, Cer hang his head low with his ears down and let out a whimper "Their sulking mood has to end now!" Then he turns his attention to the two hounds, with Cer stiffed up.

"You two! You three should've known better to entertain MC's dramatic cry for attention."

Bee doesn't understand what his master is talking about.

You cry for attention? That wasn't a cry for attention. Those tears you shed we're tears of sadness. You were all alone with angels.

Something in Bee ache, he was hurt by how his own master talked about you.

You just needed someone to be there for you, so that's why Bee and his brothers did what they did. Make you feel safe, that would've made his master proud.

So why is it that master think that what they did was bad?

Bee and Cer was taken aback by that as Lucifer continue his scolding "You should've stayed in the tombs. But instead you three just went along with my partner and when out of the house on your own! They don't need your comfort, when they have my brothers and I."

His brothers and him?!? Where we're they when left you alone with seven strangers! Where were they when Cerberus heard you crying one night! Where were he! when an angel enter the tomb and pretending to be him!

At that moment both Cer and Bee was angry. How could his master act like this, when clearly he and his brothers didn't see that you were alone.

Its clear what Cerberus true purpose is right now. And is to keep you safe.

From demons like before. Even his own Master.

In seconds both Cer and Bee starts to growl at Lucifer and Beel, with surprise the the two brothers

"Cerberus! Heel!" But his command was met with Cer barking angerly as the two took a offensive stance, with the upper part of their slightly lower while bearing their fangs at Lucifer and Beel.

Soon both Cer and Bee's eyes glows yellow as fire spit through mouth of their jaws.

Just like a flash of lightning, the two hounds lunges at the lords, fortunately they manage to duck out of them way.

Both Lucifer and Beel expect for the two hounds to attack. But they didn't. Instead they ran.

"Quick after them!" The two brothers give chase.

But their luck soon gets worst, when Asmo and Belphie turn the corner causing all four brothers to collide with each other. With Lucifer on the bottom under Beel, Belphie and Asmo.

Lucifer crawl out of the pile long enough to see his hounds slowly losing them, as they ran far to the point they no longer in Lucifer's sight.

At that moment, Cer and Bee goals right now is to get back to you and keep you away from the demons that hurt you.

Tagging: @ice-icebaby @hobin-gnoblin @sayumiht @ashielle @prefesro @the-devilskid @breezethroughthesummertrees @death-metal-lord @yukihaie @burninsno

Note:

Wait what! Cerberus has telepathy!?! But only with one other!

And they are as chaotic as the brothers! Hm? Could be maybe that the brothers influence him while has was a puppy?

If there's grammar or spelling error, please let me know.

Also Thank you with all the lovely reblogs/comments for this story. It really warms my heart that you guys enjoy this so far.

I love all the reaction you guys are writing.

Expect more Cerbie and MC bonding :3

#obey me #omswd #obey me mc #obey me cerberus #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me little d #obey me reader x the brothers #obey me angst/fluff

[mbtichaos]

MBTI types as dogs

ISTP - Duncan, wolfdog, legs are too long but he makes it work, never barks, has learned to open doors, how did he get on the roof??

ENFJ - Olly the Oliphaunt, Great Pyrenees, recognizes everybody's name, paws twitch when he sleeps like he's running in his dreams, climbs into your lap to lick your face even though he's enormous, has the same favorite foods as you

ISTJ - Sage, border collie, suspicious of strangers, basically runs the farm on her own, will not let you sleep in, champion veterinarian-grudge-holder

ENFP - Cricket, Samoyed, very dainty eater, too excited about going for a walk to stand still for her leash, friends with the raccoon in the attic, knows anything can be a dog toy if you just believe

ESTP - Ricky, lab-pit mix, walks like he just won Best in Show, pro at begging for table scraps, executes amazing leaps to catch Frisbees, does not bring them back

INFJ - Clarissa, Afghan hound, the inflections of her barks tell you exactly what she means, likes to use you as a pillow, hides under the bed when a natural disaster is coming, but also when you've somehow offended her by throwing the ball wrong

ESTJ - Jessie, foxhound, leads a pack of hunting hounds, more competent than you and knows it, legendary snorer, lets puppies (but nobody else) beat her at tug-of-war

ISFP - Alex, husky, likes cuddles only when he initiates them, howls along to music, would save you from a burning building, grumpy if you intrude on His Corner

ESFJ - Max, Irish setter, the Good Dog the prophecy foretold, likes when there are dogs on the TV, saw a squirrel outside and needs to tell everyone, knocks things off tables with his waggy tail

INTP - Haku, Basenji, sits on chairs like a person, ignores the other dogs at the dog park and just sniffs all the rocks, understands every word you say, walks into a lamp post while staring at a beetle

ENTJ - Athena, show poodle, most intimidating pom-pom you've ever seen, takes indestructible toys as a challenge, will not accept sub-par dog food, dragged you across the street to introduce you to the love of your life

ISFJ - Daisy, bullmastiff, likes to nap in the garden, growls at people who upset you, lets children ride on her back, acts like a martyr when she has to take a bath

ESFP - Cookie, dachshund-Maltese mix, would totally go skydiving with you, primary mode of travel is rolling around, will eat anything, cutest sneezes

INTJ - Nero, Belgian Malinois, explosive sniffing dog at work - do not pet, sighs in a dignified and world-weary way like he didn't just submerge his entire face in a jar of peanut butter, brings you weird stuff he dug up in the yard, has your cat trained

ENTP - Gnarly, some sort of terrier mix, his every expression could be a meme, picks up your stuff so you'll chase him, knows a whole circus' worth of tricks, will only do them if he's in the mood

INFP - Earl, French bulldog, has run away and gotten lost twice, stares out the window and sighs, sleeps in the strangest places and positions, never does anything you tell him to but would fight a bear for you 

#mbti types #mbti #mbti as #mbti types as #dogs

[keanureevesisbae]

John Wick x Darcie Angel (asian ofc)

Summary: After Tiki has passed away, the Wicks aren't ready yet for a new companion for Oreo, but that's before John walks over that bridge.

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of death of an animal

John always knew it would happen someday, but nothing prepared him for the devastation Tiki’s passing would cause. She had been there the day he stepped foot in Darcie’s cafe and now she’s not there. She doesn’t bark when he walks in, she doesn’t beg for more treats by acting cute and she isn’t jumping over Oreo anymore. No more Tiki curled up on Livia or Sam’s bed, when thunderstorms roar outside or just in general.

Seeing his wife crushed, crying non stop whenever she walks around the place, breaks his heart. Tiki was Darcie’s first dog, her first love after everything that happened. Livia sought out to Oreo, who himself was mourning too. Little Sam had a lot of difficulties to fall asleep at night, simply because Tiki wasn’t there to give him a lick on the cheek.

And John kept it all together. He takes long walks with Oreo, he hugs his kids when they need him and consoles his Darcie when she is crying.

But when the kids are in bed and Darcie’s sitting on the couch, John needs a breather.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he says to Darcie, giving her a kiss on top of her head.

‘Of course,’ she answers. ‘You’re taking Oreo with you?’

He shrugs, but seeing the look on her face, he realizes he should take the big pitbull with him. While he can perfectly take care of himself, he knows she often worries about him and with the loyal companion, she feels slightly better. He grabs the leash and Oreo gets up from the couch, already knowing what is expected from him.

‘I love you,’ he says, after he put on his coat.

‘Love you more. Don’t make it too long, okay?’ Darcie bites her bottom lip. ‘Please?’

He only nods, because he doesn’t trust his own voice. Once he’s outside, he lets out a sigh. It was unexpected, Tiki’s passing. She had been fine one day and the next, she was unable to get up from the couch, threw up blood and when they arrived at the vet’s, it turned out Tiki had internal bleedings and would not recover.

It was the hardest day of his life, but the days that followed weren’t easy. Between the tons of hugs he gave to his family, he dug a hole in the backyard to bury her. It was difficult and not a day goes by he doesn’t miss her.

Oreo and John are strolling around, walking towards the park, though that place is filled with Tiki memories. He lets out another deep sigh, before he crosses the bridge with Oreo, who all of the sudden is not moving anymore.

‘Come on, boy,’ John says, gently pulling the leash, but Oreo is not budging. ‘What’s wrong?’

Oreo whines and starts to walk the opposite direction. He walks behind the grey pitbull, who pulls him towards the field, that leads to the spot underneath the bridge. If Oreo were to do this with Darcie, John wouldn’t be happy about it, but now he can walk with him.

Besides, Oreo has never been so persistent.

John follows the dog and it gets darker and darker. ‘Okay, that’s enough, come on.’

But Oreo doesn’t listen. He drags John with him and stops in front of a plastic bag. He sniffs and whines some more.

‘What’s wrong?’

The soft whimpers of what seems like a puppy catches John off guard. He crouches down and when he reaches to touch the plastic bag, a wet nose touches his fingers.

‘Hi little one,’ he says to the small and shaking puppy, who carefully and cautiously crawls out of the plastic bag. From the looks of it, this is a St. Bernard pup, but he is quick to push the future image of giant hound destroying their mansion back.

John pats Oreo on his head, who pushes his nose against the pup. ‘What do you think?’ he asks his loyal friend, after he checked the pup for a collar, which is no where to be found. ‘We should take him home, right?’

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

The pup has been carefully tucked into John’s jacket, as he hurries back home. He walks into the living room and he hears Darcie say: ‘Hi honey.’

‘I have a surprise,’ John says.

He hears her stand up from the couch and she pats Oreo on his head who walks up to her. Then her eyes land on the puppy’s head sticking out from his zipped up jacket and she gasps. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she says. ‘Who’s this sweetheart?’

‘I found him underneath the bridge,’ John answers. ‘Well, Oreo found him. Poor fella, all by himself in a plastic bag.’

‘No way,’ Darcie says, scratching the little one behind his ear. ‘Poor thing. Can’t believe there are actually people who dump their dogs. Cruel world. How about we put him in a bath and when he’s clean, we’ll tell the kids.’

‘What?’ John asks. ‘We tell the kids we have a dog?’

‘Yes,’ she says in all seriousness. ‘Come on, John, you can’t bring puppy into our house and then expect me nor the kids to not want to keep him.’

‘Darling, are you sure?’

She nods. ‘I am. I think it would be good for us, for the kids to have a new dog. I know this enormous fella will never ever replace Tiki, but… I miss having two dogs around.’

John chuckles. ‘I could’ve known. Besides, I kinda wanted to keep him.’

The two of them put the little fella in the bath tub, washing off all the dirt. Tomorrow they’re taking him to the vet, to have an entire check up. The puppy has a sweet face and seems totally at ease here.

The kids must’ve heard they were still up, because they hear two pairs of footsteps. ‘Mommy, what are you do— Oh, is that a puppy?’ Livia asks, rushing up to them, sitting next to John.

Samuel joins them and sits close to Darcie. ‘Where did it come from?’

‘Dad found him on his walk with Oreo,’ Darcie says. ‘He is so cute.’

‘Can we please keep him?’ Livia says. ‘I promise I’ll wash him, feed him and walk with him.’

John chuckles. ‘Of course we can.’ He lifts the puppy from the bathtub and Darcie helps him dry the pup, who is already happier, wagging its tail. Oreo sits in the doorway and Livia and Samuel tuck him with them as they all go downstairs. Despite it’s already late, the kids are wide awake.

‘How are we gonna name him?’ Samuel asks, who sits near Darcie, his eyes shooting hearts at the pup.

‘Plagg!’ Livia exclaims.

John looks a little daze, as he stares at the three pairs of eyes that look so identical to one another, who all think the same, while he still doesn’t understand. ‘Plagg?’

‘Yes,’ Sam says. ‘Plagg.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Plagg is Cat Noir’s miraculous. Tiki was Ladybug’s,’ Livia is quick to explain. ‘I mean, mommy named her first dog Tiki, then she named Oreo… I think it’s our turn to name him.’

‘And I don’t get to name any dog?’ John asks, pretending to be a little hurt about it.

Before the kids can even feel a little bit bad about it, Darcie snorts. ‘Your dad wanted to name Oreo Dog, so he lost all of his dog naming privileges.’

Livia scrunches her nose. ‘Weirdo.’

John tickles her side. ‘So, we’re calling him Plagg?’ he asks.

Unanimously the three of them nod and say: ‘Yes!’ for extra emphasis.

John pulls Plagg on his lap. ‘Welcome home, Plagg. You’re part of the family now.’

⟢⟡⟣

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime // @diegos-butt // @allie1804-fan // @cynic-spirit // @raven-black102 // @abschaffer2

#a found miracle #john wick #john wick x ofc #john wick x original character #john wick fanfic #john wick x oc #john wick x darcie angel

[pfreadsandwrites]

九つの命/9 Lives Translation

Hi!! So, @foxy-and-tales asked me to tell her what was going on in the comic mentioned in this post. After skimming through it, I thought it'd be good practice - and it'd be easier to answer her question - if I just went through it and told her what it all meant. I realised by that point I was doing a translation, and since I was going to the trouble anyway, I thought I'd post it publicly.

So, the full comic is here. It's basically a comic that has 7 little stories about Kakashi's ninja hounds and their lives with Kakashi. It's an adorable, heartfelt story and I absolutely love the personalities that the artist gave all the ninja hounds and the depictions of their relationships with Kakashi.

My translation will be this post, follow it as a script. I don't have the skill or knowledge to edit and typeset and change the images myself - and I wouldn't do that anyway, as it would involve reposting the art and changing it without the artist's consent. But I do think that not referring to the pictures as you're reading through the script really harms how sweet this story is, so if you can go through the comic slowly whilst referring to my (amateur) translation of it, I hope you can get a glimpse of that!

WARNINGS: There is a depiction of an already dead dog in part 4 😢, and some (human!) male partial nudity in part 6 (😉)

Tagging: @scaredlittlefoxy @lemony-snickers @backalleykat @whatshernameis @gwedosuns @topsyturvy-dream @ice-icebaby @cosmiclattes

This is also the artist’s note that follows after the comic, that I’m putting here:

(Artist’s note translation)

"This is a story about the daily life of Kakashi and the eight ninken.

The ninja dogs’ personalities etc mightn’t be faithful to the source material.

The dogs live free range in Kakashi’s house.

There is an illustration of a dog dying, though it isn’t any of the ninken. Please take note.

You don’t have to read it, but below this are the dogs’ personalities:

Shiba: Friendly and sensitive

Biscuit: Childish and Selfish

Akino: Calm and cool demeanour

Bull: Timid and Quiet

Urushi: Ladykiller. A little bit dim. (Note: Himbo!)

Guruko: Annoyingly helpful and naggy

Uhei: Pure-hearted and cheerful

Pakkun: Same as in the series"

Some notes and then onwards into the translation under the cut:

Please take heed before continuing:

I’m not a professional translator, in fact I’ve done very little of this, so there’s some guesswork and liberties taken, and I don't claim that that there’ll be no mistakes.

I’ve separated it out by sections and pages, so you should be able to follow the story from following the speech bubbles (right to left) and referencing the lines here by speaker

Each space between a line denotes that it’s the next speech bubble

A new line but no change in speaker will denote that it’s the same character talking, but in the next panel or speech bubble

Italics means the character is thinking or flashbacks. I'll try and make this obvious as I go but the artwork should make that clear too.

Brackets are my additions, or me translating things like signs etc, or brackets will have smaller background dialogue not in speech bubbles. I'll try to make this clear as I go.

Stuff surrounded by * denotes actions or onomatopoeic actions/words in panels

Ask me if there’s any parts that confuse you about the story!! The way I’ve done this isn’t easy to follow but it's the best my dumb brain could come up with

TRANSLATION:

Title page

(p.1)

ここのつのいのち

9 Lives

(p.2)

1. ‘I won’t tell anyone’

(SFX: dogs playing and wagging tails)

Kakashi: Hm? You’re not gonna play, Shiba?

Shiba: …No. …Hey, Kakashi’

Kakashi: Hm? What?’

Shiba: There’s a girl I like’

Kakashi: Ohhh… I won’t tell anybody.

I won’t tell ~ I won’t tell ~

(p. 3)

Shiba: She’s really cute…

Kakashi: That’s great ~

Shiba: But I haven’t even spoken to her once

Kakashi: You should go for it ~

(SFX: *happy dog panting*)

Shiba: I’ll come back as soon as I’ve talked to her!’

Kakashi: Yep!

Shiba: I’ll be right back, definitely!

Kakashi: Ok, ok (lit. Yes yes)

(p.4)

Shiba: She’s already got someone (lit. she’s already in a couple/has a mate)

Kakashi: I see…

Shiba: She said her mate hurt his leg and can’t walk so he's staying at home…

(p.5)

Kakashi: Shiba, you know.. have feet that can walk anywhere…

So maybe you’ll meet an amazing girl again, won’t you?

(*dog cries*)

Kakashi: ...I won’t tell anyone. (*Comforting doggy*)

I won’t say anything. I won’t say anything.

(Kakashi: Aw, Shiba is pretty sweet to me, huh?)

2. Biscuit’s Sausage (note: I know his name is technically Bisuke in Japanese, but Biscuit is his dub name and it’s too adorable so that’s what I’m going with here! Also suits the personality he has in this story. What a biscuithead this boy is)

(p.6)

Biscuit: -You’re so sneaky, Kakashi! I wanted to eat sausages!

*crying dog noises*

(Uhei: Sorry, Kakashi…

Guruko: I told you!!)

Kakashi: You know if you eat sausages, Biscuit, your tummy will get sick, right? I’m boiling cod for you right now

(*tantrum noises, pounding feet and barking*)

Biscuit: *angry puppy noises* I hate fish, you idiot! I said I want to eat sausages! Sausages! Sausages!

Kakashi: *sternly* Biscuit

Biscuit: *whimper*

(p.7)

Biscuit: Kakashi, you IDIOT!

(2. Biscuit’s Sausage)

Biscuit: *sniff*

(Sign says Konoha Pet Food)

Biscuit: This is the store that sells the dog food Kakashi buys! Wow, maybe they have sausages here too!

(p.8)

Biscuit: I wonder if I'll be able to eat as much as I want… *gulp*

But if I did that, Kakashi would get in trouble

No, maybe…

*heart pounding*

Kakashi kept it (this) a secret just from me, because I'll get sick...

(Apron says Konoha Pet Food)

Shop Lady: *shuffles*

Biscuit: I didn't do anything yet!!! * heart pounding*

Shop Lady: Oh my… you really just talked!

Shop lady: You’re Kakashi’s pup, aren’t you?

(p.9)

Shop lady: Kakashi got you to come here, huh?

(Shop lady: you’re a good boy!)

Bisuke: Oh, no-

Shop lady: Though, he shouldn't have made you come pick it up without contacting us, huh? Here, sausages!

Biscuit: Sausages?!

Shop lady: There’s a pup among you guys that can’t have normal sausages, right?

It was a request from Kakashi.

He said he wanted me to make some especially for the puppy who can’t handle meat.

(p.10)

Shop lady: Well, here you go!! You’ll tell Kakashi we’re sorry for making him wait, won’t you?

Biscuit: Oh, um… But I don’t have any money…

Shop lady: It’s fine, because it’s Kakashi!

Whenever he has free time, he comes to pay.

I have a deal with him, you see. And he can't get the food if he's not here...

Next time, come together with Kakashi, okay?

(p. 11)

Kakashi: *casually picks up Bisuke* Thank you! This is for you ~

Shop lady: Thank you, come again!

Biscuit: Kakashi…

Kakashi: Hm?

Biscuit: Sorry…

Kakashi: Yeah…

I’m sorry too. I gave everyone else sausages while keeping it a secret from you.

I thought you’d definitely want some if you saw…

(Kakashi: But I got caught.)

(p. 12)

Kakashi: But…. Everyone’ll want some if they see this, too.

How about stopping by the park and eating it there?

We’ll keep it a secret from everyone 😊

Bisuke: *happy face licking and barking* When we get home, I’ll eat the cod too!!

Kakashi: Uhh… Well, Uhei and Guruko already ate it…

Bisuke: WHAT?!!!

(Flashback, Uhei and Guruko saying ‘Cod! Me too!! Me too! I want to eat some too!’)

3. Kakashi’s smile

(p. 13)

*paws thudding on ground/running away*

Kakashi: …Got you.

Akino: Ack!

It’s always only me that you brush so roughly, Kakashi!

Kakashi: It can’t be helped, can it? You have the thickest fur, Akino

*brushing softly* It’ll be over soon, it’ll be over soon…

Other doggies: That seems nice to me, Akino…

Kakashi: Hey, it’s falling out, it’s falling out ~

Akino: !!!

Kakashi: Look, it’s a mini Akino!! So much fur…

Akino: That’s too much hair off the bottom, Kakashi! Wha…

(p. 14)

*Kakashi continuing to laugh at his mini Akino*

Akino: There are times now where Kakashi summons us, even if he doesn’t have any business for us to take care of…

(Back then) he never ever summoned us outside of missions…

(p. 15)

Akino: He was doing all kinds of things, but he was the kind of person who never had a smile on his face…

Kakashi: If I had more time, I could make an even hairier one, you know

(Other dogs: *laughing* Akino: That’s a lie!)

Akino: Kakashi…. You're having fun?

Kakashi: *genuine smile* Yep, I am!

Akino: *smile* If you feel like it, you can keep going…

Kakashi: Oh?

(Later, Akino notices Kakashi has put sunglasses on the mini Akino)

4. Timid Bull (CW Animal Death)

(p. 16)

Bull: I’m the last ninja hound that came to Kakashi’s home.

Before that, I was living in a training centre for ninja hounds.

(4. Timid Bull)

The dogs I lived together with there… were all adopted when they were puppies.

But I still lived at the training centre, even as I became fully grown.

Ninja Hey, that dog looks tough, doesn’t he?

Centre manager: Yes, but… he’s not all that suited for battling…

Despite how he looks, he’s actually a timid dog.

Bull: I… I’m scared of insects. I’m scared of noises.

I’m scared of blood.

Centre manager: Because he can understand the stories of troubled humans, you see…

Bull: I’m scared of anything other than myself.

(p. 17)

Bull: Nobody would want a dog like me, right?

Kakashi: I found a good boy ~

Bull: *panicking* There’s no manager here!

Kakashi: Hello ~

Bull: …Hello… *heart pounding*

Kakashi: Ah, one that talks, huh…

Would you like to become one of my pups?

(p. 18)

Bull: Me…? Me, really? Quit it… That’s enough joking around.

Kakashi: What do you mean?

Bull: No-one wants me (😢)

Kakashi: No-one?

I want you, though.

Bull: What kind of a strange person would want me, I thought

(p. 19)

Bull: There were lots of dogs at Kakashi’s house

(Happy barking doggy noises)

Uhei: Woah, you’re huge! But among these guys, I have the fastest legs, you know!!!

Guruko: And I have the best nose!!

Biscuit: And I’m whiny!! (Note: lit. ‘I’m selfish!’)

Shiba: I have the sharpest bite!

Pakkun: I am the wisest. (Note: Pakkun I think uses Kansai-dialect Japanese lol so he sounds kinda... distinct. This is hard to convey for me lol)

Urushi: I’m popular with the ladies ;)

(Akino: I’m the fluffiest!)

Bull: I was so confused

You… you’re not scared of me?

I’m huge, and I have a scary face… So no one comes near me.

They all said they weren’t scared.

The reason, they said together, was…

(p. 20)

‘Because Kakashi brought you, Bull!’

Everyone was totally relaxed, as if they had no worries at all.

They all clung to me as if it was completely natural to do so.

I realised that there’d always be someone beside me.

(p. 21)

*sounds of paws scuffling against ground in first two panels*

*jumping to the ground noise in third panel*

Kakashi: …Bull, this way is a dead end.

Bull: …Sorry.

I couldn’t go back to where you were, and I thought so, but -

(p.22)

Bull: *looking at dog* He asked me to stay by his side.

…He was an enemy, but he was already dying.

That’s why, Kakashi….

Kakashi: …Yep.

Let’s give him a send-off together.

(Note: this was a tricky one because Kakashi says 送る, which means send, and is used with mail etc, but can mean to say farewells to the deceased, which is why Bull comments on it on the next page)

(p. 23)

Bull: He wanted to say ‘I want to bury him’

But Kakashi said ‘send-off’.

Lightly, as if his life force was still there

There… there are a lot of things that scare me.

When I was waiting for this dog, I was scared.

But I couldn’t refuse his request.

(p. 24)

Bull: …I’m spineless.

Kakashi: Everyone else has lots of things they’re scared of, you know.

That’s why they all stay by your side, Bull.

If you’re there, everything will be alright. That’s how everyone feels.

If you’re close by, everyone’s able to feel safe.

(p. 25)

Kakashi: ….This puppy, too.

Dying dog: …Please…

Bull: That dog…

Dying dog: Stay with me, until the end…

Kakashi: Because you stayed with him, Bull, he felt at peace, didn’t he?

Bull: I don’t think that dog was happy…

…Kakashi.

He was very thin, and he also smelt like he was sick

To protect themselves, his owner didn’t treasure this [this dog’s] life.

Kakashi, I…

Somehow, I..

I’m very…

(p. 26)

Bull: I wanted to cry out as loud as I could..

Kakashi: Yeah… (I’m not sure who’s saying this line)

Bull: For feeling guilty towards that dog, and for knowing Kakashi…

For my life being here now.

For my life, I wanted to cry it out until the blood came out of my throat.

(p. 27)

Bull: That dog…

I wonder, was that dog ever able to feel like this, even once?

(Flashback) Doggies: Because Kakashi brought you, Bull!

Uhei: Hey!!! Bull!!

Shiba: You’re late!!

I was worried, you know!

Guruko: (to others) Hey, Bull came back!!

Bull: I’m Bull. The dog that Kakashi found.

5. Urushi’s scales

(p.28)

Urushi: I think I’m good looking

(5. Urushi’s scales)

Girl pups: Ahh~ Urushi…~

Urushi: I’m popular with the ladies

(note: he uses メス, which means bitch in the literal sense - a female dog - and all the puppers use it to refer to human women too. So I just left it as ladies, as I don't think the pups mean it to be crass, they just use dog language and apply it to humans as well as themselves)

Sometimes I’m told ‘it’s probably because you’re one of Kakashi’s ninken’, but…

(Background lettering over the other dogs says ‘Unstylish/Uncool/Lame’)

But my other friends aren’t all that popular, really.

Still, I think it’s because I really am good-looking after all.

(Choruses of ‘Urushi~’, ‘Ahh…; and ‘Let’s play together, Urushi)

Urushi: Hehehe…

Being good-looking is a great thing.

Guruko: Hey, Kakashi!

(p. 29)

Guruko: You got hit by a girl again, didn’t you?!

Kakashi: *laughing* No…

Akino: Why were you hit by a girl? Do girls not like you?

Uhei: It looks like it hurts…

Kakashi: Nooo ~

Shiba: You’re so strong, Kakashi, why were you hit?

Biscuit: You couldn’t avoid it?

Guruko: *Steam from nostrils* I’ll fight her for you!

Kakashi: It’s fine, it’s fine ~

What are you saying?

(p. 30.)

Urushi: Kakashi said ‘I took responsibility’.

Sometimes humans say things I don’t understand…

Girl dog: Urushi… pair up with me.

Urushi: If Kakashi’s saying it, it must be important…

Be… Because I’m one of Kakashi’s ninken?

Girl dog: It has nothing to do with that. I like you, Urushi

Urushi: Wow… *heart pounding*

Girl dog: Pair up with me, and…

I want you to leave the ninken. (Lit. Stop being a ninken)

(p. 31)

Girl dog: I love you, Urushi, but what if, on a mission, you…

I can’t stand the thought of that!

Leave the ninken, and… always stay in the village with me?

Urushi: This girl’s a beauty, and has a kind personality…

I think that I might want to be with her…

Should I leave the ninken?

(p. 32)

Urushi: *perplexed*

Kakashi, Bull and Biscuit: *zzz, sleeping sounds*

Urushi: If I said I wanted to leave the ninken…

Kakashi: (in Urushi’s imagination) If that’s what you want, Urushi

It’s fine with me! (Background: It would be a shame, though…)

Urushi: I feel like Kakashi would say something like that…

Do I want to do that…? Not really, but… *sigh*

Hey, Pakkun.

(p. 33)

Pakkun: Something bothering you?

Urushi: Yeah, there is

I have to decide between two things, but it’s difficult…

I want both of them, but I can’t have them.

Pakkun: … Is it a girl problem?

Urushi: Yep ~

Pakkun: That’s just like you, Urushi. (Pakkun’s imagination shows two girl pups arguing:

Urushi!! Which one will you choose, me or her?! *indignant barking*)

When making a decision about something, one needs to think about what’s most.

...important to oneself.

Let’s say you balance both sides on your scales…

Urushi: My scales?

Pakkun: For example….

(p. 34)

It’s not the physical weight, but the weight of what you think is precious and important. It’s the weight of those feelings.

If you think about which is heavier, you’ll find the answer.

Kakashi: You guys are having a kinda complicated conversation, huh…?

Pakkun: Oh, Kakashi, you woke up, did you?

Urushi: *heart pounding*

Kakashi: My scales lean towards sleep, you know..

Let’s eat soon, okay? Please…

Urushi: Kakashi…. Are you happy that I’m here?

(p. 35)

Kakashi: Hm? Yeah, I’m happy!

Urushi, of course I’m happy ~

(Note: the word Kakashi uses is 嬉しい, which is ‘ureshii’ so Kakashi is making a pun with Urushi’s name here.)

Urushi: *blush* Okay!

Pakkun: What we were just talking about… Don’t talk about it in front of Shiba.

Urushi: Huh? Why?

Pakkun: Seems like he recently had his heart broken…

(p. 36)

Urushi: The thing that’s most important and precious to me… isn’t you.

That’s why I can’t be with you.

I can’t be with you, but… you’re a beautiful and amazing lady.

So, let’s meet again one day ~

Biscuit: Kakashi! Kakashiiiii! It’s awful!!

(p. 37)

(*throbbing pain*)

Biscuit: Urushi’s hurt!!

(*dogs barking*)

Guruko: Let’s go fight them!! *steam from nostrils*

Shiba: No way, is it a girl? Kakashi, you better tell him off!!!

Kakashi: Did you get into a fight with a dog from the village?

Urushi: No, it’s not that…

I took responsibility.

I’ve got a manly mark on my face, heh~

Shiba: You better tell him off!! *bark*

Pakkun: That’s it…

6. Kakashi’s Helper Team!

(p. 38)

Kakashi: I’m home~!!!

Guruko: ?!!! Kakashi, you stink!!

Kakashi: *sweetly smiling* Oh, stop it…

I saw Asuma after a long time, and we talked and ended up getting some drinks… It was nice to see him… *flops down on floor*

Guruko: Take a bath!!!

Don’t go to sleep!!

(*soundly sleeping*)

(p. 39.)

Guruko: Uhei! Uheiii!

Uhei: What is it?

Guruko: Let’s clean up Kakashi!

(6. Kakashi’s Helper Team!)

Uhei: Ehh… But if he wakes up, he’ll take a bath himself, won’t he?

(SFX: Heave-ho! Heave-ho!)

Guruko: We can’t leave Kakashi as he is when he’s this stinky! It’s fine, take it off!

Uhei: Uh, this is stuck half way, I can’t take it off

Guruko: Because you haven’t taken off his leg bandages!

(p. 40)

Guruko: Damn, this is stuck half way *pulling*

Uhei: Isn’t that because you haven’t taken off his headband?!

Guruko: This is enough, let’s carry him to the bath like this!

(*dragging noises*)

Uhei: Won’t his clothes get wet?

Guruko: It’s fine, because we’re going to wash them anyway!

Uhei: It’s amazing… Kakashi still hasn’t woken up!

Guruko: Okay, let’s wash him!

Uhei: Isn’t that… the shampoo that we use?

Guruko: It’s totally safe!!

If it’s fine for us to use, it’ll be fine for Kakashi too, right?

Uhei: I guess…

(p. 41)

Uhei: We can wash his body, but what about his clothes?

(SFX: *scrub scrub*)

Guruko: If we wash them together, it’ll be fine! Hey, pour some hot water over here ~

Uhei: Okay!

(SFX: *splash*)

Kakashi: *suddenly yelling* I’m gonna die!!

Guruko: *screaming*

Kakashi: Even with my face covered, if you pour hot water on me, I can’t breathe, you know!! You really can’t do that.

Guruko: You woke up…

(SFX: *heart pounding*)

Uhei: You really scared me…

(p. 42)

Kakashi: You’d started something, and I wondered how far you’d carry on… Ah, I’m drenched.

Guruko: Ah, I’m sorry, Kakashi!!

Kakashi: Well, anyway.. you guys ended up cleaning yourselves pretty good too. You’re all drenched, too.

Guruko: Then I’ll go get some towels!!

Uhei: Kakashi, Kakashi

Guruko acts the way he does, but he really loves looking after you!

Kakashi: I know.

Biscuit: I want to have a bath with Kakashi too ~

Guruko: That’s not it! It’s just all slippery (note: not accurate, but the gist is that Biscuit misunderstands and Guruko puts him straight)

7. I’ll always love you

(p. 43)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: Pakkun…

Pakkun…

I have a favour to ask.

(Present)

Pakkun…

(SFX: Snoring)

Kakashi: Pakkun..

(SFX: Gasp)

Pakkun: Huh?

Kakashi: It’s time to eat.

(p. 44)

Pakkun: Alright.

(Other dogs: Food~ Food ~

Kakashi: Yes ~ Yes ~)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: Pakkun…

Pakkun….

Pakkun..

(p. 45)

Pakkun: Kakashi?

Kakashi: Hm?

Pakkun: For the mission report before… You didn't need me, did you?

Why did you bring me?

Other dogs: We want to come too!!

Kakashi: It’s just Pakkun for today

Kakashi: Hmm…

Hey, let’s relax here for a little while.

Pakkun: What’s this…

Kakashi: Come on…

Well…

(p. 46)

Kakashi: I want to talk about Dad.

…No. Maybe it’s a confession?

Talking about Dad…. Felt like something we couldn’t even broach. Ever.

I think you felt this way too, right, Pakkun?

I couldn’t tell you earlier that ‘it’s all right now’. Even though it was.

It was just a matter of timing, I guess…

Pakkun: But I wasn’t waiting for you to say that… Even if you’d have said it earlier, that’d have been good, but..

Why, out of the blue like this?

A change like that… Just like…

Just like…

(p. 47)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: I have a favour.

(Present)

Kakashi: The day Dad died…

Ever since then, for a long time, now… I became strange.

I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.

Pakkun: Kakashi-

Kakashi: Even though… you were hurting over Dad not being here too.

(p. 48)

Kakashi: Dad was your first master, right?

You really were precious to him.

….The other day, when you were having a nap, I woke you up, didn’t I?

It might have been because of the food, but your nose was twitching.

At first, I thought you were growling.

When I woke you up, you had a really startled expression when you looked at me.

I understood right away.

You were thinking about Dad, right?

(p. 49)

Kakashi: You were having a dream about Dad that time, right?

Thank you for always being considerate towards me…

But it’s alright now.

From now on, I want you to tell me…

The things about Dad that only you know.

(p. 50)

Pakkun: Sakumo…

(Sakumo: Pakkun…)

Pakkun: …really was a loving, kind man.

Kind, and…

(Sakumo: Pakkun…)

Pakkun: Kind, and…

…Kakashi.

I’ll tell you about Sakumo.

The things I’ve always wanted to tell you

I’ll tell you now.

Kakashi: Okay.

(p. 51)

Kakashi: Thank you for telling me about Dad, Pakkun.

Pakkun: …Don’t you dare die.

(Pakkun…)

I’ve had enough now.

Yeah. Enough.

(p. 52)

(Sakumo: I’m asking.…)

Pakkun: Sakumo…

The two of you are exactly alike.

Kakashi: Oh, really?

Pakkun: Everything’s alright now.

(p. 53)

“Kakashi!”

(p. 54)

(No text)

(p. 55)

Kakashi!

(p. 56)

Kakashi

(Note: I think the favour Sakumo asked of Pakkun was to take care of and be mindful of Kakashi always. This isn't outright stated)

#naruto #kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #pftranslates #fan comic #translation #fan translation

[parvulous-writings]

Misunderstood Distraction // McCree x reader

Request:  How about McCree on an undercover mission to rescue an unknown target (not yet specified to make sure talon doesn't know, so McCree doesn't know it's the target at first either) meeting someone while being on lookout for good vantage points in a nearby park. The target's (s/o) dog named Jesse gets loose and they run after it yelling it's name only to get the cowboy to react. S/o get annoyed by being distracted from catching their dog at first... you can take it to anywhere from here. I do hope more people find you and request. You write beautifully.

Requested by: Anon

Summary: The request! 

Warnings: none

Words: 1K

Notes: I know that the text colouring doesn’t show up here, but when I saw blue writing in my inbox, I squealed a little. Teach me your witchcraft please-  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif 

The mission was simple enough. On paper at least. Then again, even the truly simple missions were always simpler on paper. Perhaps it was the random nature of the world around the heroes, creating variables that they could never calculate into the equation or plan.Then again, perhaps it was other minute details that they were able to control. Whichever of the possibilities it may have been, Jesse McCree did not care. He rolled with the punches, took whatever was thrown at him. It was just the way that he lived, and it was sure helpful on the field- especially in missions such as this one. 

His task? Rescue an important target from captivity. He knew the building well, having studied every corridor on every holomap, every way in and out, logical or otherwise. Who was the target? Well, therein lay the main rub of this particular assignment. He didn’t know. This wasn’t without good reason, though. If the Overwatch higher ups had disclosed who it was to anyone besides themselves, there was an extremely good chance that this information would be discovered by Talon, and used to their advantage. That was something that they couldn’t risk under any circumstances, and McCree understood this, he respected it even. 

So, for the moment, the gunslinger was walking- or more meandering- through a park close to the building where the captive was being held. It was an expansive area, dotted with strong oak trees with stone-layered paths strewn throughout the grassy mounds. He couldn’t leap into action without the word being given first. It could jeopardise everything. So, he pulled the brim of his hat down further over his face as something or someone rushed past him, trying to remain inconspicuous and mind his own business until the time came for him to act. 

“Jesse!”  The voice was distant, but he managed to catch it. His head shot up-originally thinking that it was someone through his earpiece. However, when he heard the voice again, he quickly realised that wasn’t the case.  “Jesse, get back here!”  It was closer this time, and he looked over his shoulder to see you practically bounding towards him. You nearly ran into him, as you had fully expected him to move out of your way. You clipped his shoulder with you own, and the cowboy still looked baffled. “You talking to me?” He asked, pointing to his own, cuirass covered chest with his metallic thumb. 

“What? No,” You reply hastily, before starting to dash off again. As you ran off from him, he noticed something clutched in your hand. A leash. Maybe you were chasing after a pet of yours? He started to jog after you, quickly matching your pace and catching up. “Hey,” He caught your attention again, and you gave him a sidelong glance.  “Uh,hi?” You reply, almost awkwardly. Jesse had to think about what to say next, but thankfully he thought of something quickly, so the silence didn’t last too long. “You need some help?” He nods down to the leash, still clutched in your fist. 

You slow to a halt, not wanting to run and talk, that was pretty tiring. Running was tiring enough on it’s own. “Okay, sure...” As much as you didn’t want to spend too much time explaining, if this cowboy was going to help you he’d need to at least know the basics. “My dog, Jesse, got loose.”  “Oh, so that’s why you were calling my name.” The gunslinger chuckled softly with a subtle shake of his head. “Got a little confused back there ‘cause of it, y’know.” He told you with a small, yet charming smile. “Well, what’s he look like, then?” He asked, placing a hand on his belt as he spoke.  “He’s a black lab. And he’s a runner, too.”  “That’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t you worry. Just gotta wrangle him into a corner or somethin’ like that, righ’?”  “Yeah, I guess that could work...” You agreed with a soft nod. 

And so the pair of you set off, over the slow sloping hills of the park, looking out for this midnight hound that had escaped you so eagerly. “He’s a good dog, he just gets very... Excited.” You told the cowboy, who you of course now rightly assumed was also called Jesse, though you didn’t address him as such. You strained your eyes against the light of the sun in the distance, seeing if you could spot the shadow-like pup somewhere off in the distance.  After maybe about half an hour or so, the cowboy gently tapped on your shoulder. “Hey, is that him?” He asked, pointing over to a particularly large tree with a dog-shaped form at it’s base. You sigh in hopeful relief, rushing to see if your darling pup is alright. 

Jesse the lab raised his head as you approached, getting up from his resting place to trot over to you, clearly he had worn himself out with his unsupervised run about. He sat by your feet for a moment, before he spotted the other Jesse. He started to sniff around the man, seeming rather intrigued by his presence and closeness to you. He sat down in front of him, allowing McCree to bend down and give him a little bit of fuss behind the ear. He chuckled softly as the dog responded so positively to it. “You’re a good boy, ain’t ya?” He grinned, before standing straight again. It was then that he heard another voice, and this once was from his earpiece. 

“McCree, we need you to move in now, we have a window,”  He didn’t answer directly, not wanting to freak you out by talking to someone in his ear who you had no knowledge of. He just looked to you after a moment. “Well, I best be off. If you ever lose this kind lad again, you be sure to find me an’ let me know. Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree, if ya couldn’t tell.” He joked, tipping his hat to you. You give a quiet laugh and nod in reply.  “I’ll be sure to look you up,” You respond, playfully.  “I look forward to hearing from ya, whenever tha’ may be.” McCree gave you another charming smile, before turning on the heel of his boots, and rushing off towards the bustling road of the city to carry out what was needed of him. 

#jesse mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mccree x reader #mccree oneshot #mccree overwatch #matt mercer #ourcree

[just-ornstein]

A Thousand Times Good Night: Chapter 1, Part 1

Collaboration with: @bosouzoku​

It was late at night, the moon dimly lit up the city of Veronaville and Tybalt was looking for some peace of mind. Coming back from a funeral his mind was elsewhere, never had he thought he would lose not one, but two of his aunts in only the span of a couple of months. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically and with the constant pressure his grandpa liked to put on him he needed to get away from his mansion for once.

As a cold breeze of early spring went past him the Capp pulled his blouse tighter, finding his way into the city's elaborate rose gardens. Labyrinths of flowers scattered around the place, climbing up the walls of an older uninhabited mansion that stood in the middle. During the days it was a popular destination for many, during the night it was a great place to unwind and even find some secret places to be all on your own. He eyed some of the rose bushes, their different colours looking oddly pleasing together as they were combined into different arrangements.

As Tybalt made his way deeper into the gardens and closer to the mansion he got a glimpse of someone else. For fucks sake, he wasn't alone. As he could feel his mood go from terrible to worse, he made his way to the front of the mansion where a small area with benches was neatly set up. He'd often chill there or near the middle of the maze where... Usually you'd find no one around this hour. Except this time... When there was none other than-

"Mercutio Monty..." Tybalt groaned. "And what do YOU think you're doing here?"

Of all the rose gardens in all the towns in all the world, he walked into this one.

To be fair, Veronaville wasn't exactly the biggest place, and with tensions always high on both sides of the canal, there weren't too many places considered "neutral grounds" where a Capp or a Monty could go to clear their minds. Even convenience stores had their unspoken affiliations that would earn someone a dirty look for even setting foot in the car park.

Still, Mercutio had hoped, even in this place of peace, that he wouldn't run into one of the more hostile Capps tonight—but lo-and-fucking-behold, wouldn't you know that the very epitome of unbridled hostility would waltz right in and immediately sniff him out like some—some Monty-hunting hound. It was worse still that Mercutio simply wasn't in the mood to egg him on or get his ass kicked as a result of said egging-on. He just... wanted to be alone with his thoughts tonight, to not be attached to a name or a persona and just be, but Tybalt Capp—oh, that Tybalt Capp—would never give him a moment to forget who he was.

"The one and only!" Mercutio plastered that purposefully infuriating grin on his face as he turned to face Tybalt, snorting at his polite inquiry. "Nice to see you too, Tybs. Did I miss the memo that the Capps owned this place?"

Tybalt sneered at him, grey eyes glistening in the beams of moonlight that shone down upon them. He tapped one foot on the grass before making a tiny circle that ended in a carefully calculated bow, way too fancy for a situation like this.

"I could say the very same to you, Monty! I thought you'd be helping your old pops clean his 'precious restaurant' at this late hour. Where's your dog of a brother even at? Isn't he supposed to be within 5 feet of you?" Tybalt's hand hovered over his belt... No sword. He'd only take out the big boy once he knew there was a duel. And sometimes... He would just jump at the Monty's with his fists. In a situation like this...

"But if you truly want to claim this mansion as your own... With this garden. Then I challenge you to a duel to fight it out!" He exclaimed, pointing his fist in Mercutio's direction.

There was a half-second where Mercutio slipped—the way Tybalt's eyes seemed to perfectly reflect the moonlight didn't go unnoticed, but it was never easy to be objective with him when every interaction with him felt like being kicked in the teeth by a llama.

"Got through it quick today, so I'd have some time here—ALONE, I might add." Mercutio rolled his eyes at each jab, too tired to become riled-up at his words. "Yeah, yeah, we're all a bunch of dogs, we travel in packs, don't you have any new material? You're gettin' stale, Tybs!" Mercutio barked out a laugh as he watched Tybalt reach for a sword.

As every place in Veronaville came with a laundry-list of unspoken rules, this garden was no exception. Mercutio shook his head at his fighting words, making a "time out" motion with his hands. "Settle down, hotshot. This is neutral ground. You either chill here with your good friend Mercutio, or fuck off and pick a fight somewhere else. You choose."

Tybalt gritted his teeth as he took a step back, the realization quickly hitting him. Mercutio was right. These were neutral grounds. And starting a fight here could lead to terrible consequences for his family... Something he wouldn't wish upon any of them, especially after all the shit they had been through lately. He let out an exasperated groan, quickly walking another circle to reflect on his frustration.

"Fine! You win! For now Monty..." He spat out the last words, murmuring them inside his throat like a storm ready to come out. He eyed him suspiciously before walking closer to sit down on the many benches. For the first time not jumping on Mercutio while doing so. But with both of them here and Tybalt not exactly ready to go back home, he might as well try and make the best out of it.

"So...  Why ARE you here?" He genuinely asked, for the first time no mockery in his voice, just mild annoyance.

Mercutio cocked an eyebrow as he observed Tybalt's frustrated pacing, wondering if Tybalt would actual adhere to peace, a word the guy hated "as he hated hell and all Montys." He took the time to mentally prepare himself for a beatdown before, shockingly enough, Tybalt admited defeat.

"Could you say that again? I didn't get a chance to record it." Mercutio chuckled through the initial surprise of this temporary ceasefire, eyes following him as he took a seat at a bench across from where he sat.

From here, Mercutio couldn't expect much more than awkward silence that would get heavier and heavier until one of them got fed-up and left, but—shockingly enough, Tybalt was the first one to address him with a question that had a jarring lack of hostility attached. He almost wanted to keep staring in confusion, but it only took a half-second he decided that the best thing to do was simply appreciate the fact that he wasn't diving headfirst into a quarrel for once, and let things play out.

"Air's clear, night's cool, and I don't feel like being at home right now. Why else?"

Tybalt huffed at the way Mercutio addressed the last bit, puffing a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes. "Don't test my patience Monty..." He sighed, taking one deep breath as he tried to stop himself from throwing another unnecessarily cruel remark at him.

Mercutio couldn't help the laugh that bubbled forth as he turned his head to the stars, leaning back against the bench and kicking his feet up against the stones between them. "Aw, but it's so much fun!" He shook his head at the sound of Tybalt's impatient sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll hold off, you can draw your claws back in."

"I don't know, people come here for many different reasons. Flowers, peace... Even romance." Tybalt sneered at the last bit, having seen the way Mercutio eyed Hermia. And not trusting his baby sister around this freak, he was convinced she'd find her ways to sneak out... Even when she had also had a deep interest in that Summerdream Fairy. Relationships were all over the place here, especially with the Tricous finding their ways more around town during Night time.

"Or perhaps even to take some steam off the pot if you know what I mean." He eyed the flowers that were still tucked in his blouse, having forgotten to take them out when he left the funeral. Or perhaps, he hated the thought of letting go off the last bit that still reminded him of his aunt Goneril on this long day.

Mercutio's smile faltered at the mention of romance—he didn't care for the reminder of his own troubles with love, of his conflicted feelings and failures, but as with any of his insecurities, he was quick to make a joke of it. "Romance, huh? Is that why you're here, Tybs? No wonder you sought me out." A grin and a wink, and the ache in his chest was gone.

"Sought after you?! As if!" Tybalt huffed, quickly diverting his gaze from the guy before him. It was so easy to push Tybalt's buttons... Too easy at times. Even his sisters would sometimes wonder why he turned out the way he did and admittedly even Tybalt wasn't quite sure, although he did have his suspicions. Whether those were true or not was something he doubted he would ever discover, never having found the comfort of a trust person to share any of those thoughts with. Hot-headed as he was, a chill pill likely wasn't going to do the job.

Mercutio feigned a mournful sigh, shaking his head. "Shame, but... it's for the best. Just what would our families say!" He laughed off the last words in attempt to not let the reality of them hang in the air. This was the last place he wanted to think of the feud, even if the thought of Tybalt romancing him was hilariously and astronomically impossible.

He let his expression relax again and turned back to the skies with a heavy sigh. "Jokes aside, I get it. When I'm here, I don't have to be a brother or a grandson—hell, I don't even have to be a Monty here. Usually." He gave Tybalt a pointed look.

"I guess... You're right about that huh." The last word slightly contorted as Tybalt came to the realization he was actually agreeing with Mercutio for once. "All those expectations constantly placed on top of you. 'Tybalt look after your sisters!', 'Tybalt make sure you don't forget to sign those papers!' 'Tybalt you must honor our name!', I can go on and on for hours. Wait, why am I even telling you this?" His eyes accusingly went towards Mercutio like sharp daggers. Almost as if he blamed him for even bringing this up in the first place. Stupid Monty and his stupid charismatic jokes.

Mercutio was once again caught-off by Tybalt's agreement, by the idea that he was having a normal conversation with him, eyes a little wider as he listened to every word he shared before the realization that those words were being shared with Mercutio set in.

As Tybalt stared daggers into his eyes, Mercutio sat up, leaning forward and nodding, shaking his cold glare right off. "No, but— I get it! I totally get that! It's fucked up, isn't it? Does it feel like you just— like you came into this world with years of expectations already piled onto you? It's been like this from day-fucking-one!" Mercutio raked his fingers through that wild mane of hair, reeling it back in, closing the floodgates before he started unloading onto his worst goddamned enemy.

"Yeah, it's... it's a lot. Sometimes it all becomes too much. That's why we get away though, right? Why places like this exist, where no one's gotta be anything but themselves."

Tybalt blinked, genuinely surprised by his reaction. He wasn't mocking him for once... He was actually bringing up some interesting points even and proceeded to wave his annoyance aside. It made some of his usual edge fade into the ground and he hesitantly leaned forward to actually take some time to fully listen to him. All things considered, that was a first.

His heart skipped a beat when Mercutio went with his hand through his hair, never actually realizing how every bit of Mercutio that he had always mocked... Wasn't so bad after all. And he could mentally slap himself for it.

"You're right! Ever since my parents passed away it feels like I had to grow up real fast. Grandpops expected me as the oldest to look after everyone... And I can't deny that I honestly felt I should too. Especially when my baby sister found an interest in that brother of yours..." He glared at him once again, but it was short lived before he moved on. "Juliette and Hermia are all I've got left. If anything were to happen to them I wouldn't hesitate finishing off, whoever caused it."

He tapped his fingers together, then looked at the sky. "It wasn't always like this you know? Everyone has been so different lately, especially with-" He cut himself off, briefly hesitating on whether to continue or not. "Especially with all heirs to the Capp Family gone. Cordelia, Goneril, Regan. Grandpa hasn't been himself ever since. Of course he's grieving, that's logical! But he's also been... Expecting way more of me with each death. Wanting to protect Juliette and Hermia from similar fates. But he seems to care little about me... After all, I'm not the heir."

"This garden is a great reminder of how things could be... Some peace and quiet of mind, no need to worry about all those things. Only once you get home you can expect to get yelled at for running off and getting back this late. But right now those are 'Future Tybalt's problems'." He smirked as he concluded his side of the story.

In another place, Mercutio might've thought twice about falling so easily into such a tender subject with Tybalt of all people—but as it were, in this peaceful garden on this cool night, he took this chance to finally, finally talk about things that had burdened his heart for years and ran with it, regardless of the company. He didn't have to see Tybalt as a Capp right now, just like he didn't have to be a Monty in this place—just a person to talk, to listen.

"Look, I don't like the thing with Romeo and Juliette any more than you do! You're not tellin' me a damn thing." Mercutio raised his hands as to distance himself from that subject. "As for playing parent to your siblings... my guy, I was born to be a forgotten older brother. First years of my life, I was playing second fiddle to a kid that didn't exist yet."

Mercutio's intensity softened a bit as Tybalt spoke of losing both of his aunts in such a short time. Word traveled fast to the Monty side of town after the untimely deaths, and while the older members of the Monty family seemed unaffected or even mildly pleased at the turn of events ("One less Capp in the world...") Mercutio couldn't help but feel pangs of sadness. He never understood celebrating one's death, especially when they'd lost two of their own to death in childbirth.

"Yeah, I— I heard about that. For what it's worth—and I'd wager not much, coming from me, but—I'm sorry. I understand what it's like to lose someone like that." He sighed, looking down at his feet. "As for feeling like you're overlooked... fucking tell me about it. I'm the oldest, but Romeo is the heir. I remember the first and last time I asked why, and nonno just said, 'It's what my son wanted, Watcher rest his soul.' That's what you want to hear, right? That your dead dad liked your little brother more than you!" Mercutio laughed bitterly.

"Damn, that's rough... And just plain ridiculous in my opinion. Your family doesn't seem to follow any gender related rules, so I cannot fathom my mind around the fact that they would choose him over you just to honor your father. My family follows a matriarchal line so therefore Juliette, being the oldest girl and all is next is line of succession, me being 18 doesn't change a thing about that. I think you can imagine the horror my granddad would feel if he figured out she was interested in your brother. I imagine he's already got his suspicions though, he isn't dumb." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, considering his family line more before adding. "Uncle Kent had always been a disgrace in his eyes, even as the youngest. So him being the only surviver and one that can't even carry on the family name really doesn't sit well with him, especially now that him and Aunt Regan's spouse have been getting surprisingly close through all of this."

He stopped, looking back at Mercutio, reconsidering all that had been said. He almost felt bad for taking the subject onto himself again when he was talking his heart out here. He had known bits and pieces of Mercutio's past, often used them as insults before another fight would erupt, but for the most part the Monty was shrouded in mystery. Their constant fights gave little time for genuine conversations and those that did happen where often filled with insults at one another. 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer' as the saying goes and yet here he was, realizing how little he actually knew about his archnemesis.

"Your parents... They didn't even look after you back when they were still around?" His voice became a lot softer, surprised he actually felt pity. He couldn't complain in that regard, having gotten all the love and care a child could hope for during childhood.

"You can't fathom it because you hate all of us equally." Mercutio shrugged, eyes still downcast. "To my family, Romeo has always just been... better. Smarter, more charming, better looking—just, better. It's like they took one look at me and said 'eh, better luck next son!'"

Mercutio couldn't help but laugh at the idea that their grandfathers were unaware of what was going on between Romeo and Juliette. "Are you kiddin'? At this point, it's a game of who can ignore it the longest! Nonno's hoping that it's all just hormones and rebellion." He nodded as Tybalt continued with his family's troubles, listening with genuine interest—it wasn't every day that he actually had a chance to learn more about the Capp family from someone who wasn't a Capp-hating Monty, after all.

Mercutio kept listening with his eyes down until a lull came, and then—and then a soft voice, much more gentle than he ever expected he'd hear from Tybalt cut through the silence. His eyes fixed upon him, breath catching in his throat when he noticed the way Tybalt looked at him. No anger, no vitriol, no smugness or superiority—Mercutio felt human in his presence for once.

"I..." Mercutio shook his head. "I guess they didn't. They were always so busy, but even when they had time... even then, it was always with Romeo. Always."

Tybalt let out a laugh at his remark, even somewhat surprised himself by his own reaction. Poor Mercutio, clearly he had been through way more than he expected. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe they genuinely had more in common than he thought. Not a lot of course! Mercutio was still a Monty, whereas he himself was a Capp. It would be silly to compare the two, but when it came to the responsibilities of 'the older child', there were definitely some similarities. "For real? You're clearly the better brother out of the two. At least you're not dating a Capp behind everyone's back! What an 'honour to the family name’ your brother brings."

"Any idea why they developed such a preference for him? Don't you feel... Jealous? Like you'd develop some kind of grudge towards him?" He sat back crossing his arms, blowing the hair out of his face again. Maybe that was a bit of a silly question, considering he never once hated his sisters for being the favored children. He even felt protective towards both of them, like it was his responsibility to make sure nothing would ever happen to either. But even he would sometimes feel a mild annoyance towards both of them, especially when Juliette and Hermia were willing to throw everything out of the window when he -Tybalt Capp- had been working so hard to retain it!

Mercutio could have kicked himself for the way his heart skipped at Tybalt's laughter—he'd never heard it so pure before, such genuine laughter that wasn't drenched in mockery or bitterness. It didn't help that the sound, just like that gentle voice, was actually really nice. He needed a moment to catch his breath, but found that fate had no plans of affording him a moment before Tybalt was declaring that he, Mercutio, was the better brother. "Wait, you— really? I mean, I know your standards for 'best Monty brother' are probably lower than dirt, but still—"

Mercutio chose to ignore the comment about "dating a Capp," his interest in Hermia causing enough conflicting feelings as it were without it being mentioned that she was a Capp. Fortunately, Tybalt didn't allow him to dwell on it for too long, once again turning the conversation back towards Romeo being the favorite grandchild. "Beats me. Later on, it became obvious that he just... was better at everything than me, but when we were just toddlers? Who the fuck even knows? Maybe they liked his face more."

He took a moment to think on Tybalt's question of jealousy before shaking his head. "Nah. It's not his fault that the family likes him more. Romeo's always been good to me in spite of it, and we're cool. It does get on my nerves that he gets away with more shit, though—like skipping out on his shifts, sneaking out, you name it."

"I'm sure you've got your own qualities as well... You're a great competitor for one definitely more fun to fight than your brother and of course the jokster around here. Plus you're clearly the better looking one out of the two objectively... Even if I hate your stupid grin for obvious reasons." Tybalt muttered, inspecting his hands. "Don't bring it up that I said that, ever again or else I won't hesitate to embarrass you right in front of my sister and I definitely won't forget to bring my sword next time."

He quickly followed said remark by something calmer. "Your grandparents are probably going to get pissed if they figure out you get back home this late. I mean, not like mine is going to be any different. He'd likely want me to immediately get to bed and tomorrow do some extra tasks around the house." But as he ended his sentence a faint smile crossed his face. "And you know? I honestly don't care." It was actually surprisingly nice, being able to talk about these things with someone.

Mercutio was floored—even if the "more fun to fight" comment was fairly typical of Tybalt, the rest... he couldn't believe what he was hearing, especially that last part about being better looking than Romeo. Mercutio had never heard such a thing before, and he certainly didn't expect that the first time he would ever hear it would come from Tybalt Capp's mouth!

"I— Wow, okay— don't worry, I won't go repeating anything, just—!" He tried to think of something, tried to make a snarky joke of it, but all he could do was unsuccessfully fight a goofy grin spreading onto his face. "You're— you're not so bad yourself, you know?"

Truth be told, this air of peace made it a hell of a lot easier to be objective, and objectively speaking and objectively looking at Tybalt, especially as that small, unguarded smile graced his lips, Mercutio found him to be beautiful. He was sharp lines and bright colors, piercing eyes framed by a fierce brow that gave him chills even as his glare softened—not to mention how elegant and strong he was as he attacked, even if Mercutio was oft the victim of said attacks.

Transfixed on his smile, Mercutio broke from his stupor to chuckle at his words, as well as to take a breath and clear his mind of these confusing, troubling thoughts. "Yeah, me neither. I've crossed the 'grandparents are pissed' threshold. Might as well make it count, right?"

"What is that stupid grin for?" He sneered, leaning forward, head on his hands. "I'm only speaking the truth Monty." At this point the feud was long forgotten, as was the fact that he was having this entire conversation with his sworn enemy. And yet, it felt right, he would lie if he said he wasn't actually enjoying this company for a chance.

When Mercutio threw that compliment back at him, Tybalt could feel his heart skip a beat as well and the smile briefly faded from his face, instead he looked almost stunned. He never got much appreciation thrown at him, compliments were scarce and he was more used to insults, complaints and endless bickering if anything else. His looks weren't something he was exactly proud of either. While he would never admit it out loud, or said it, he couldn't help but stare in the mirror whenever Hermia mentioned how weird his nose looked, or when Juliette insulted the mask he so proudly wore on his face.

"W-What?" Was all that came out. By standards it wasn't even a compliment, but to Tybalt... Anything was. Especially when coming from a source so unlikely. Mercutio and his stupid grin, always present on his face, yet it could light up any room in the span of only a couple of seconds. Deep brown eyes, that were so expressive and clear it reminded him of the night sky itself. And that long black hair that always seemed to have a will of its own, pointing in different directions and never straight. He cursed himself mentally for even paying attention to it all for once.

Mercutio put his hand to his face in a feeble attempt to hide his flustered face—he was so accustomed to always being the one teasing or flirting (but rarely, or never getting anything in return) that actually receiving a genuine compliment on his looks from Tybalt Capp had his head spinning. "What? I can't— I can't smile when a guy compliments me?"

He peeked through his fingers to find Tybalt staring at him, stunned. Mercutio lowered his hand as he realized that, like himself, Tybalt was also most likely feeling a good bit of shock at being complimented by his enemy—'In that case', Mercutio thought without a single additional intention, obviously, 'I should keep complimenting him, right? Just so I'm not the only one looking like a fool!'

"What? I said— I said you don't look bad! Might even go so far as to say you're pretty fuckin' handsome, yeah? When you're not looking at me like you want to skin me alive, that is." It was different to see Tybalt's features with such a lack of severity to them, to see a soft smile or a gentle gaze on that face that usually held murderous intent. "You look pretty nice when you smile. Didn't think I'd live to see it."

Tybalt grew even more stunned feeling his cheeks fluster and once he caught himself he quickly brought his hands up to his face to hide it. It made him feel all funny inside, he hated it. How could Mercutio Monty out of all people manage to fluster him? He quickly waved it off, trying to cool his cheeks and when he realized the waving of his hand wasn't working he burst into a bubbly laughter.

Mercutio watched, feeling as if he'd come to the end of the world as Tybalt blushed, as he waved off the flush of his cheeks and erupted into a laugh that made his insides pleasantly twist. He didn't know what else to do but stare, or what else to say but—

"Wow."

Suddenly, Mercutio found himself in a very strange, very concerning situation in which the smile and laugh of the guy he hated was making him feel things he'd never felt before, not even with Hermia, things that he hesitated to name or to dwell on for too long for fear of some world-shattering realization. He was not ready for that shit!

"This entire situation is absolutely ridiculous. You. Me. Us. Here. This." Tybalt shook his head again and while still on edge, most of the annoyance that was usually very much present in him seemed to have faded. His body no longer as tense as it used to be. In that moment he stood up, briefly looking up at the sky, seemingly hesitating for a moment before beckoning Mercutio to follow him.

"You're tellin' me! Whenever I see you coming, I expect to end up with a fresh scar, not... whatever this is." His eyes followed Tybalt's movements as he stood, wondering if this meant that this ceasefire was soon to end. "Not that I'm complaining. Whatever this is, it's a hell of a lot better than what usually happens between us."

"I was going to go to another part of the garden. One that's usually hidden from view unless you know how to get there - because I don't think one is supposed to go there -, but then you caught me off guard with your presence. I know I probably shouldn't be trusting you with any kind of secret, but since this garden is a neutral place, might as well. You'd likely find it sooner or later anyways, if you haven't stumbled upon it already." He eyed the maze and its looming presence, the high walls towering above them like castles. It was huge and sometimes hard to find your way around it, but when you did it had some great places to remain hidden from the rest of town.

He listened intently as Tybalt described a secret place in the gardens, growing more interested by the second—the moment he was actually invited to share this secret with him, Mercutio didn't think twice before letting his excitement show, hopping up from the bench with a grin. "A secret, possibly forbidden area? Sign me the fuck up!"

"Then follow me Monty, let's see if you can keep up!" Tybalt grinned, eyeing him once more before running into the Labyrinth, occasionally making sure that Mercutio was still infact following  him.

The maze twisted and turned, seemingly contorting in every possible way and as they went deeper into this place, more types of flowers and different types of areas became visible until Tybalt gestured towards a tiny hole in one of the many bushes.

That grin, that playful challenge had Mercutio floored for a moment, allowing Tybalt to get a distance ahead of him before he snapped out of it and darted after him with laugh. "Hardly a challenge!" he yelled after him, a smile in his voice and the smile on his face growing wider each time Tybalt looked back at him. He failed to notice how the flowers changed, how the garden became less illuminated as they went deeper into the maze, his eyes fixed upon Tybalt the entire journey.

Pushing himself through the opening and making sure he wouldn't accidentally rip his coat in the process he found himself in a clearing where trees and plants had grown way more, giving it a bit of a bewildered view. In the middle a pond with a tiny abandoned cottage at the edge.

Mercutio followed him into the opening in the hedge, gasping at the view that greeted him. It was all so wonderfully overgrown, untouched by the regular visitors—it truly felt like a well-kept secret, and as Mercutio's eyes found Tybalt's once more, time felt as if it stopped all but the gentle, serene breeze and him.

"I assume the place belongs to the mansion. May have been a shed they used for gardening tools or perhaps for guests even but when making the giant Labyrinth to accompany the gardens must have forgotten about it." The young Capp walked to the edge of the pond, grabbing a stick to poke in the water, several fish steering from their position. "During summertime if you're especially lucky you'll find fireflies here. During the day butterflies and birds. I usually come here when I fully want to relax and not be found."

He shook his head once more walking over to one of the trees and slumping against it. "Give yourself a nice book, some food and a drink and this place is absolutely perfect." Sometimes Tybalt wished he could bring an instrument here but he feared people might hear him during the day. Besides he was way more versed with the piano, which would be impossible to take here. He gave Mercutio one long glare as realization hit him. "Don't ruin this place or I'll fucking kill you."

There must've been stars in Mercutio's eyes as he watched him move about the pond, as he listened to the words of a boy who craved this sort of peace just as he did, who longed for days of innocence long-gone or never even spent. He watched as Tybalt rested his body against a tree, as he closed his eyes, as time stood still for a long, magical moment—that all came to an end when he was once again glaring death upon Mercutio. "Ruin it?"

"Why would I ruin something like this?"

Tybalt shrugged, closing his eyes once more as he rested his head against the back of the tree, listening to the sounds of crickets, wide awake at this time of night. "I don't know. Just had to make sure. You've ruined things for me in the past before. It's difficult for me to trust you, you know?" He let out a sigh, looking up at Mercutio with innocent eyes. "But since you won't... I'd say make yourself at home."

He eyed the shed, taking in its rather worn exterior, it clearly needed some work. Work that Tybalt likely couldn't give it. "I've actually never been inside. Despite what one may think it's locked and I'm absolutely terrible at - and honestly have no interest in - breaking locks. If it's true what Hermia said, you should be good at it, am I correct? Or is she just bragging?" He grinned, wide smile and all. Truth be told, he wasn't quiet sure if he should believe his youngest sister on her word, she would often use excuses like these to provoke her brother. Just the regular things you'd expect from siblings. Whether it was truth or fiction then didn't matter.

Mercutio found a tree opposite of Tybalt and settled there, unable to close his eyes or tear them away from the sight of the guy so relaxed for once. "Like what? I probably didn't do it on purpose—to you, me ruining something was probably just 'showing my face', right?" He laughed easy, a sweet smile on his lips as their eyes met. "Will do. I like it here—maybe it's the fact that most folks don't seem to know about it, or that it's so... wild and overgrown. It's my kind of place!"

He glanced at the shed as Tybalt spoke, and at the idea of a secret not even Tybalt knew, his eyes lit up. "Really? So it's a whole fuckin' mystery, huh?" He leaned forward a bit to get a better look at the shed, curiosity growing. "Oh? Hermia's been bragging about me, huh—"

He froze when he caught Tybalt's grin, heart once again doing that annoying-as-fuck skipping thing.

"—u-uh, yeah! She— she wasn't lying, though! I can pick locks pretty well! It's part of being a handsome rogue, y'know?" He gave Tybalt a playful wink, trying desperately to push whatever weird feelings that were surfacing back down. "I'll be sure to bring my lock-picking kit next time! Better be something good in there..." It took Mercutio a moment to realize that he had essentially confessed that he wanted there to be a next time here with Tybalt, which had the man flushing and immediately averting his eyes. "I MEAN, if you happen to be here the next time I'm here! And I happen to remember to bring the kit!"

Tybalt stiffened for a moment, rubbing the back of his head a little absentminded. The fact that Mercutio actually made a suggestion like that gave Tybalt very conflicting feelings and the fact that none of them came with annoyance... Created annoyance. "I'm here rather often so it's very likely you'll run into me again if you decide to go to this place."

Which suddenly made him realize that by showing Mercutio his secret place, he could walk in and out of it whenever he pleased. Foolish Tybalt, now he would never be free of that Monty's presence no matter how much he'd try. Why had he even showed him this place, he hadn't even brought his sisters here! He came here to escape from all those problems, not be faced with them again.

"Please just- whenever you come here, don't start trash talking me or picking fights. I come here to run away from those thoughts, not be faced with them even more." He rolled his eyes before leaning forward. "If you play nicely I may even share some food with you 'next time'."

"Yeah? Well, then... maybe I'll just happen to run into you, then—and maybe I'll happen to have my lock-picking kit with me then, too!" Mercutio could've kicked himself at how stupidly excited he sounded at the possibility of running into Tybalt again. He hated Tybalt! He'd hated him for years! He should be using the knowledge that Tybalt frequents these gardens to avoid them, but...

There was something about the stillness of the night, about the way he had never seen his eyes shine like that, never heard his voice so soft or his laugh so bright—it truly felt as if the feud, the hatred, his name didn't exist in this place, and he could easily become addicted to it.

"Hey, you were the one reaching for your sword the moment you saw me. Worry about yourself! Like I said before, this is a neutral zone, and I intend to honor that." Mercutio perked up at the mention of sharing food. "Oh? What kind of stuff do you even eat over on the other side of the canal? Can't imagine it's better than what my Nonna cooks!"

"Fresh baked bread, berry pies, fruitcakes... Depends on what I'm in the mood for. I often buy them at the bakery of Mr. Mole, you know the one. But sometimes... I make them myself though." He shrugged, his cooking wasn't amazing but that didn't stop him from at least trying to get some recipes out in the open. "I never even ate your Nonna's food so I wouldn't even know what to compare it to."

Mercutio quirked an eyebrow at the mention of Mr. Mole's bakery. "Yeah? The stuff there's real good, but I swear it's a front for a spy operation. Have you seen that guy?" He had to laugh at the idea of an international super-spy baking pies in his spare time. "As for you cooking? You definitely don't seem the type! I'd have to try that for myself."

Mercutio slapped himself on the leg at the mention of his Nonna's cooking. "You haven't lived! Her baked ziti will make you see the Watcher Themselves!" He was ready to start planning an entire picnic with the guy before he caught himself, gently reminding himself 'This is Tybalt Capp, your mortal enemy, remember? You're not going to start having Sunday brunches with your goddamned enemy!"

Tybalt didn't have any food with him tonight, having come here rather in a hurry to escape the heavy mood that was at home after such a difficult day. He actually didn't look forward to going back to it and the thought alone made him cringe. Crossing his arms he rested his head on top of it, studying the tips of grass that moved with a small breeze.

"I don't want to go back home. But I know I'll probably have to leave in a bit, lest granddad finds out. He's so strict and with how sour his mood has been lately you can't exactly expect a warm welcome." He blew out some air, looking up at Mercutio once more through red hair and his stupidly painted mask. "You know how it goes. The host of the house taking it out on the oldest kid. Don't worry, he doesn't hurt me... But our relationship has been rather strained lately and is no longer as close as it used to be."

Mercutio laid his head back against his own tree, once again having to re-calibrate his thoughts away from... whatever the hell was happening here. He couldn't pretend that tonight wasn't one of the best he's had in awhile—certainly the most serene, but he couldn't make a habit of it. Maybe once more, just to find out what's in the shed, just to sate his curiosity, and... maybe show Tybalt what real cooking is like, too. "Yeah, I... I don't really want to, either, but... can't stay here forever. Might as well head back and take the ass-chewing I'm about to receive like a man." He nodded, feeling a sense of solidarity with the other, knowing damn well how it felt to take the brunt of everything.

Tybalt let out a chuckle but it was without humor. He didn't want to stand up actually even when he hated to admit that, after all he was sharing this spot with his mortal enemy. The one he was supposed to hate even more than Romeo himself! And yet... In this very moment he felt no hate brewing towards him. Not much more either. But it seemed as if the anger had calmed down for once, as if it had vanished in thin air for the night. He scolded himself mentally and seemed to make a note about it in his mind, but would leave it at what it was for now.

"I can imagine it being good... After all, those guys own an entire fucking restaurant. Must be some good shit then!" Tybalt nodded.

Mercutio thought about it. "Not being able to eat at the Monty family restaurant is a curse all Capps must bear—though, I bet if you rolled up without that facepaint on, no one would recognize you, at least long enough for you to knock back some garlic bread and marinara. Trust me when I say it's worth a shot!" The scene played out in Mercutio's head, the image of Tybalt sneaking into the Monty restaurant without his facepaint just to stuff some breadsticks into his pockets making him throw his head back in laughter.

With much effort Tybalt stood up, walking over to the other side of the pond, holding out his hand.

"We should probably head back... But before that. Truce? At least whenever we're here." He eyed Mercutio up and down again, then gave him the faintest of smiles, followed by a nod. He would probably kill himself for all of this tomorrow but for now... This was fine.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Tybalt standing before him, extending a hand. His laughter died, a lump growing in his throat as butterflies swirled in the pit of his stomach. A truce? He never thought he'd hear the word, not even in a place like this, but... he couldn't stop himself from taking his hand and standing with a nod, meeting Tybalt's faint smile with a smile like sunshine.

"I think I can manage that—but only if you bring some berry pie from Mole's with you next time! Otherwise, I am for you!" Mercutio snickered at his own attempt at a dramatic delivery.

"It's decided then. You bring your lockpicking set, I bring some berry pie." He took a couple of steps back and nodded. Surprised they managed to shake a hand for the first time where the other wouldn't pull them down. So this was it for today then huh? He walked back over to the opening of the hedge, peering behind him to make sure that Mercutio was following.

"Might also bring some of Nonna's cooking, if you're lucky." He gave Tybalt a wink before following him through the hedge, staying right behind him and resisting the temptation to reach for his hand again. Ever-so-often, Tybalt would look back at him, to which he would respond with a smile, trying to play off his own thoughts.

Tybalt felt odd actually paying attention to the other for once. It made him see details he had never seen before. The way Mercutio's black hair would flow in all directions, reflecting the moonbeams like an ocean. How his smile would brighten the entire area... That stupid grin. In his mind he had always hated it, but now that it wasn't used to mock him it was actually one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever laid eyes upon. And once he caught himself even think of it that way he nearly choked on his saliva. Having a good coughing fit in the middle of the labyrinth. What was that for?!

As they made their way to the entrance of the gardens, Mercutio found himself falling into a bit of a trance whenever Tybalt would turn quickly to look at him, fascinated by the way his silvery-grey eyes caught the moonlight again and again. It enraptured him so that the sudden coughing fit caught him by total shock. "Whoa— You alright?"

“Y-Yeah I’m fine!” He held his hand up to his mouth, wanting to scream but realized Mercutio was still there and quickly made his way out of the rest of the maze.

Once outside Tybalt had to take a moment to catch his breath before looking over at Mercutio once more. "I guess..." And he REALLY was going to hate himself for this tomorrow. No questions asked! "You're not so bad after all, Monty." He chuckled.

Mercutio continued out of the maze behind him until they made it to the entrance, and after a moment of silence between them, Mercutio was once more floored at Tybalt's words, followed by a laugh that made him feel dizzy. "Yeah... yeah, you're not so bad yourself, Capp. I suppose I wouldn't mind it so much if we happened to run into each other here again."

"As much as I hate to admit it I... Don't mind running into you again either. At least not here. Within the city itself might evoke a different reaction from me." Tybalt replied, giving him a playful shoulder bump. Another awkward silence followed in which he realized he stared at Mercutio's face for way too long, taking in all of his features before catching himself and quickly breaking contact. "We should probably head home now."

He gave Mercutio one last glance, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. "Well, see you around I guess."

And with that being said Tybalt disappeared into the night again, his coat moving behind him with the wind. The entire way home he couldn't help but think about all that had passed tonight. Of course there was still the funeral lingering in the back of his mind, but then there was Mercutio who seemingly seemed to push all those thoughts aside and brighten it with his very presence. He groaned under his breath, angered with himself for even feeling that way after having made Mercutio his sworn enemy for years. But he had to admit that tonight, he hadn't minded him as much as he usually would. If anything he was pleasantly surprised by how much he had actually enjoyed it and the part of him that was so proud about holding up the Capp name really hoped that next time he saw him he'd be filled with the usual spite again.

When he reached his home he was met with his grandpa who was still awake at this late hour, waiting for him. And as to be expected he scolded him for sneaking off at this time.

Tybalt just took it, shrugging it off if anything because the thing is, he was 18, grown up and for that reason he felt like his old man was just being a tad too strict. Worrying about things that didn't even exist.

Maybe he should give him the benefit of the doubt though, he had just lost two of his children and was likely overly worried about the grandchildren that still lived with him.

After all what if they met a similar fate? Something that seemed close to impossible to Tybalt, at least for now. The feud had led to deaths in the past, but that didn't mean more were to come, especially with the last two deaths purely having happened through sheer bad luck.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I just needed some space." Tybalt groaned, waving it off and without waiting for a reply went upstairs to his room.

There he spend the next two hours in bed still awake, cursing himself for the fact that he couldn't get Mercutio out of his head.

Not realizing that on the other side of town... A certain Monty found himself in the exact same position.

#this part turned out super loooong #but it would be weird to cut it into two #so that's why #next will probably be less long I think? #I can't promise tho lmao #A Thousand Times Good Night #The Sims #The Sims 2 #Ts2 #Sims #Sims 2 #Ts2 story #The Sims 2 Story #Sims Stories #Sims 2 Stories #Mercutio Monty #Tybalt Capp #Consort Capp #Tycutio

[boneandfur]

𝒮𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒

Chapter Two

"I would not make the world wise at the expense of a virtue." - Aphra Behn

Vista Park is magnificent. The gardens roll out nearly to the horizon, and Ellie knows she cannot face a Vandermeer as she is, not now. Yet it seems Fate is against her, for Lady Ingrid is sitting on a bench in the garden sipping coffee, the scent of roses heavy on the breeze. If Ellie didn't know better, she would mistake Ingrid, with her pale golden hair and even paler powdered skin, for a doll. A cluster of spaniels cavort around Ingrid, yipping at one another and chasing their tails. The little beasts spot Ellie first, and come tumbling over the lawns to joyously yap and lick her hand.

“Louis! François! Oh… it is only you.” Ingrid sniffs, looking Ellie up and down. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Though Ingrid (Inge, her name was Inge) pretends not to know Ellie in highborn society, Ellie knows as well as she that just ten years ago they stood ankle deep in the muck of the Thames together, mudlarking for ancient coins.

This will make a good prop in my Da’s next play! Inge had bit down on the coin she'd found, ancient bronze stamped with some long lost emperor’s head. It's better than yours! All you got was a stinking farthing, Elspet Wheeler!

“I said, where did you get that dress? It's much too fine for a girl like you.” Ingrid shades her eyes, and though she looks up at Ellie standing above her, she is also looking down.

Lady Ingrid, as if she wasn't Inge from Fleet Street, parading up and down the Strand in borrowed silks, setting her cap at some lord with more pence in his pockets than prick!

“I don't answer to you.” Ellie turns on her heel, and continues towards the house. “It's from a shop on Drury Lane.” She throws the words over her shoulder, not looking back, but if she had, she would see the high color in Ingrid’s cheeks, as if she's been slapped.

•••

“I say! Miss Wheeler!” Old Lord Vandermeer smiles when he sees her. A portly man in his late fifties, he wears a long powdered wig that spills in a riot of fanciful curls down his shoulders, and a hound raises its head and blinks slowly up at her from beside his outstretched legs, which are currently propped up on a footstool before him as he reads the paper. “Aye, it's a fine English morning to gadabout in! If only my son didn't spend all morning lying in bed like a slug, perhaps you could show him a thing or two!”

Considering the last time Ellie saw Lord Brett stumbling drunk at the last country dance, she sincerely doubts that, but keeps her own counsel. “I'll consider it, sir.”

Lord Vandermeer smiles, a trifle sadly, and folds the newspaper in his lap. “Now what can I do for you, m’dear? Surely you did not ride all the way to Vista Park to see an old man.”

Ellie steeples her fingers together in front of her, taking a deep breath. “I should like to borrow a book from your library, sir.”

“A novel, perhaps?” Lord Vandermeer winks at Ellie’s blush. “Do not worry my dear, I shall not tell your Papa. We have some Defoe I believe, just bound, and a marvelous collection of Shakespeare’s plays.” He lifts a bell from the table beside him, and rings it loudly. A servant appears at the door. “Darius, I would like some tea. Miss Elspet already knows her way to the library, I believe.”

•••

Just after exiting the door, Ellie catches up with Darius. “Is Lord Brett awake?”

“Him? He’s been storming about ever since he got up. Probably because he hasn't paid off his creditors from his gambling debts, and the master has forbidden him from returning to London until the scandal dies down.” Darius takes his spectacles off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And she's here. You know better than I do how she is, I'm sure.”

“With no maid to brush her hair a thousand times before she wakes? I saw her in the rose garden.” Lord Brett vowed to scale the Tower… Ellie pushes the errant thought away.

Darius inhales, as if he will say something, Riya’s absence suddenly a near thing between them.

He has not smiled, Ellie realizes, since Riya went away. “I have a letter from her.” Ellie reaches into her pocket, and feels a rip in the corner with her forefinger, enough to stick the tip of her finger through. She draws the letter out. “I haven't quite finished it yet, but if you like…?”

Darius exhales, putting his spectacles back on. His dark eyes are sad, and he clears his throat, breaking his gaze by looking away. “No, you go ahead and finish it. I'm sure her letter to me was only delayed in the post.”

Ellie is not sure about that, but she pats Darius on the shoulder all the same, sliding the letter back into her other pocket.

“If you don't remember the way to the library, it's the second door to your right.” Darius nods, sketching a half bow. “I hear great things about the works of Aphra Behn.”

As she watches Darius walk stiffly away, Ellie thinks of Riya, and a vise squeezes her heart. It seems just yesterday that they read lines from The Forc'd Marriage, Aphra Behn’s play. And now Riya treads the boards in Drury Lane, while she, Ellie, will be forced to wed before the year is out. You don't want to end up like your mother, do you, Elspet?

•••

Ellie has just cracked the spine of a fine book open and is inhaling the scent of fresh ink and parchment when the door to the library slams open.

“Damnation! Darius, we require coffee!” Though Lord Brett Vandermeer was born in Amsterdam, he swears just as well in any language. His father was a merchant before he inherited his title, a fortune changing hands in horseflesh and coffee before Elspet and Brett were ever born.

Ellie quickly ducks behind a bookcase, her fingers trembling. With Brett is the most beautiful young man Ellie has ever seen, his features looking as if he has been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. There is something about him… Though he looks foreign, he seems so strangely familiar, as though she's seen a drawing of him somewhere before. He wears a blue frock coat and with a froth of lace at his throat, though he is no dandy like Lord Brett with the latter’s garishly mustard coat and clocked stockings.

Perhaps on a wanted poster. The dark thought causes her to drop her gaze, trying to work up the courage to step forward before she is caught spying.

“I'll have what you asked for. A silver Arabian that gallops as if she was born from a zephyr and a cloud.” The boy crosses the room, running his finger over the spines on the shelves, the entire Shakespeare collection. Ellie can barely breathe. “A lovely collection.”

“They're m’father’s.” Brett makes a sound of dismissal. “Who reads a play when one can see one any time one likes?”

“Oh, sometimes I like to imagine the scenes in my head…” Dark eyes meet Ellie’s through the spines of the books.

The boy’s eyebrows raise, and when she puts a trembling finger to her lips, surprised she has even remembered how to move at all, he smiles at her and winks.

“Read? You should come to the ball. That will be far more diverting. There will be drinks, rich widows, and a gambling room for dice.” Brett snorts. “Bring your… companion, if you must. A rude fellow. I do not trust him.”

“He does not trust you, either.”

Brett runs a hand through his golden mop of curls, licking his lips. “I'll have the gold for you tonight, at the ball.”

The boy clicks his tongue against his teeth. “We have an accord, then. And her? Will she be there? Come on out, kitten, I promise I don't bite.”

Face flaming, Ellie steps out from behind the bookcase. Shining hope flares in Lord Brett’s eyes for a single moment, and then he steps away, busying himself with the Dresden shepherdesses upon the mantle. Ellie wishes she could touch his shoulder, to give him comfort, but the feeling of intruding upon that private grief is too much to bear.

“Hello.” The boy sweeps a bow. “I believe we have not had the honor of meeting.”

“And you still will not.” The young Dutch lord steps between them, hands clasped behind his back. “She is the local magistrate’s daughter.”

“Oh. Oh.” The boy’s brows knit together. “Well, I promise it's all above board, darling.” He winks at Ellie, straightening the cuffs of his frock coat and running a hand over his dark hair, long and tied back in a queue.

Ellie is confused as to what he’s talking about, and clutches the books to her chest. Aphra Behn, and some Ovid she'd scanned her eyes over and blushed to her roots to read. Ars Amatoria. The Art of Love. “You're coming to the ball?”

Lord Brett nods stiffly. “I hope you don't mind, Miss Wheeler. A spot of business, that's all.” At the boy’s questioning look, he explains stiffly. “Miss Wheeler is coming out into society tonight. M’ father and…” his mouth works. “And… step-mama…”

“They've been ever so kind and are throwing a ball for my birthday and the whole county!” Ellie steps in and finishes for Brett, who nods at her in gratitude. “Though I think it was not their idea, but a few months ago my friend Riya…”

Brett waves a hand. “Servants gossip. My father quite doted upon the chit, who was a great friend to Miss Wheeler, I believe.” He pulls out his pocket watch and taps it. “It's getting on in the day, Miss Wheeler. Hadn't you best be getting on home to get ready? The way my father’s wife carries on, it can take upwards of a whole afternoon on cosmetics and hair alone!” Brett takes a pinch of snuff with a lopsided, boyish grin that quite makes Ellie wonder how Inge ever could have thrown him over for an old man with gout. “Women are strange creatures, I daresay.”

Book in hand, Ellie curtsies first to Lord Brett, then to the boy. “By your leave, gentlemen.”

“I'll see you tonight.” The boy clasps Ellie’s hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. “Miss Wheeler.”

•••

Ellie has the borrowed carriage drop her off at the back gate, and hurries towards the outbuildings, to hide the copy of Ovid until nightfall. She knows instinctively that her father should not catch her with it.

She stops in her tracks when she hears it. A low, guttural moan. Is someone in trouble? She is about to call out, but some deep instinct holds her back. Creeping forward, she presses her back against the door of the little hut, and peers through a crack in the outer wall.

What she sees shocks her so badly that she nearly drops the heavy books. Sliding the books into her pocket, she peers through the crack again.

Shaw is standing with his hands clasped behind his head, completely naked, his eyes rolled back in lustful bliss. Ellie has never seen a naked man before, not even in anatomical drawings, save for a corpse that once washed up, bloated and stinking, near she and Inge’s favorite mudlarking patch along the Thames. The sound the corpse had made when Inge poked its belly with a stick had given Ellie sweating nightmares for weeks.

No: correction. She has never seen a living, breathing naked man. Shaw’s chest gleams with a sweat-slick sheen, the dark gold hair on his chest tapering down in a dark path below his navel, where a dark head bobs up and down.

Ellie feels her entire body flush, but she cannot tear her eyes away. She knows who it belongs to. Shaw is panting, moaning, straining. He pushes Megan’s head away, composing himself. His prick is small, but Megan looks at it as if it's about to tear her in two.

Megan wipes her mouth, and Shaw cups her round breasts in his big hands through her bodice, pulling it down to fondle her naked breasts shamelessly. The maid makes no move to stop him, though she tries to bat his hands away as she giggles, biting her lower lip and she staring up at the watchman from under sooty lashes. "I never lay with no lads from London before, sir."

Shaw barks out a laugh. “You suck prick better than a harlot.” He pinches her chin in his fingers, and Megan winces. Ellie instinctually wants to stop him, but she stays frozen. Why would you read a play when you could watch one? “So don't tell me you're a blushing maiden. I bet you've had your share of lusty farm lads, haven't you, little Megan?”

The way he says it makes Ellie’s skin crawl.

“Let there be a first time for everything, wench.” Shaw touches Megan’s lips with his thumb, drawing her mouth open. “If your cunny is as tight as your lips, let there be an accord between us.”

Megan giggles, biting the tip of Shaw’s thumb, and Ellie feels herself heat from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. She has seen farm animals with more delicacy. Unbidden, the intensity in Salazar’s dark eyes flashes in her memory, and for a moment, she wonders what he would look like stripped down… No, Ellie!

A loud grunt tears Ellie’s attention back to the scene before her. Shaw has Megan bent over, and he is thrusting into her, her skirts to her waist. Megan’s eyes are round with surprise. He winds her hair in one fist, pulling her head back roughly, the other hand reaching forward and closing around her throat as he begins to pound hard into the maid, and Ellie goes cold.

She spins away, pressing her hand to her beating heart, threatening to leave her chest. She hears Shaw’s shout, and the sound of a slap, and Megan sobbing. Still, she cannot move.

“Is someone there?” Shaw’s voice is rough and urgent, and Ellie realizes she must have made a sound after all. There is a dampness on her cheek. She wants to help Megan, but she is frozen in place. “Show yourself, villain!” At the sound of a pistol being cocked, adrenaline surges in Ellie’s veins, and she dashes towards the house, blood thundering in her ears, heedless of the danger.

A single book lies on the grass beside the wall, its contents fallen open, a red ribbon straight down the middle.

•••

Ellie makes it to the front steps just as her Papa comes out of the house, looking at his pocket watch and frowning. He looks like an old man, she thinks suddenly, there is gray threading his whiskers, and he walks with a slight limp from old wounds that she has never seemed to notice before. Oh, Papa. Who will look out for you, if not me, now that Mama is gone?

“It's past three, my girl. I was about to send men out for you.” Her father taps the face of the watch, then his attention snaps to her fully, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the mess of her hair. A vein pulses in his temple. “Running all over the countryside again, I see. This is unacceptable hoydenish behavior, Elspet. You are not in London anymore.”

Ellie feels herself begin to quiver, but she will not -- she will not -- a fat tear runs down her cheek. “I went to Vista Park. Is that such a terrible sin?”

Magistrate Wheeler’s brows draw together in a frown that promises thunder. “Vista Park?” His tone is clipped. She may as well have said Seven Dials, for all the quarter he is giving her. “Turn out your pockets, Ellie.”

Ellie staggers back. “What? No, Papa! I'm not a thief!” This can't be happening. This can't be happening. One time, that was all it had taken -- a silver slammerkin, a jangling charm bracelet, and she'd been down at the beggar’s grate with him in Newgate. Do you want to be like them? Do you? Then tell me where it is, tell me where the things you stole are, or I shall --

“Elspet!” Her father catches her gently by the arm. She looks up into his dear, weathered face, pushing the memory back down, deep into the dark. “I only seek to remind you that I can help you, if you confess your guilt now.”

Guiltily, she thinks of the volume by Ovid. It is in my pocket! Her hand goes down unconsciously to her pocket. Trembling, she feels the book -- the book -- There were two, I know there were -- refusing to meet her father’s eyes as she draws out the slim volume, holding it clasped tight before her.

Her father snaps his fingers, relief crossing his face. “It is not so bad. It is only a book, and they have been most generous with you, my girl. It is just that little things have gone missing recently, and you often visit their library…” he coughs roughly into his handkerchief, wiping his mouth. “A golden snuff box, a Dresden shepherdess, a miniature portrait made of gold…”

A Dresden. The boy. Lord Brett. Ellie feels her father work the book from her cramped fingers, and sets her mien.

“Ah, Aphra Behn." Her father's tone is warm, though bemused.

Ellie sags with relief.

"Your mother --” A muscle works in the magistrate’s jaw. He looks away, but when he turns back, his eyes are hard as slate. He slides the book gently back into Ellie's pocket and she nearly faints as the pocket rips the remaining seam, the book hitting the dust of the drive with a clatter.

“The Vandermeers are a very important family around here, as I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Elspet.” Her father has begun to pace in a small, tight square about her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Many important people will be at that ball tonight. Perhaps even the Sinclairs of Ledford Park!”

“I don't take six hours to do my hair and cosmetics, Papa.” Ellie lays a hand on his arm, smiling prettily up at her father as he pauses to regard her sternly.

“Cosmetics?” His brows rise nearly to his hairline. “I should hope not, surely. You are a virtuous young woman of a good family, not a… Not a…”

“Strumpet? Harlot? Slammerkin?” As soon as the word is out of her mouth, Ellie regrets it. But it is too late. The magistrate’s face closes like a book, growing dark.

“Elspet, that is enough.” He grinds the words out. His hot breath on her face smells of watered blue ruin, the same way he smelled the night her mother vanished, bending to kiss Ellie’s forehead as she drowsed, somewhere between sleep and dreams. Strained through rags and sifted with sugar. “Go and fetch your maid.”

“And what about Mama? Are we ever going to talk about her, like you promised? I'm eighteen now. I'm not a child, not anymore.” She thinks of the pirate, her body growing tight with guilt. And the boy, whom she privately calls Michaelangelo, with his lips brushing her knuckles and giving her a wicked thrill.

“This conversation… We will finish it later.” Magistrate Wheeler’s tone is curt.

“But when? When is that? You always say--”

“Elspet.” Her father rests a hand on her shoulder. “Do not make me say something I will regret.”

Flora! Flora! Get back here or by God, I will have the Watch drag you home by your hair!

“Yes, Papa.” Ellie shrinks away, and with a strangled noise, her father crushes her into his arms.

“I just couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, Elspet. You look just like her, like your mother. It would kill me to see the light go out of your eyes.” Her father rubs a hand over his face, eyes suddenly wet. “I will tell you. Just know that she would have been so terribly proud of you right now.”

“Oh, Papa.” Ellie’s voice trembles as she begins to tear up. “I will make her proud, I promise.”

“That makes me happier than you could know, daughter. Mr Shaw has asked for my permission to wed you. And I've said yes.”

tag list @ritachacha @burnsoslow @darley1101 @eileendannie @princess-geek @secretaryunpaid

#choices ride or die #ride or die mc #ride or die #logan ride or die #brett ride or die #ingrid ride or die #n*fw #ride or die au #historical au #period drama #my fic #shore leave #pirates au

[arvandus]

Woooohooooo congrats on 500!! Can you do fluffy prompt no 30 with hawks? Love youuuuuu (I have notifications turned on for your blog lol)

So... um... this came out longer than expected.... s;dfajsdlfksdaj

1300 words counts a drabble... right? RIGHT??

.........

.........

I have a problem. _____________________________________________________

Prompt #30: “I Didn’t Think You Were The Hugging Type.”

You were having the worst day.  Your alarm didn’t go off, making you late for work, which then led to you getting chewed out by your supervisor.  Clients weren’t much better, the particularly rude ones able to sniff out your bad mood like a blood hound, and proceeding to press every single button until you were either seeing red or on the verge of tears.

All you could do was wait… wait until lunchtime, in the hopes that the one good, consistent thing about your day would walk through those doors and make himself comfortable next to your desk.  Hawks had been visiting with you for some time, coming into say his hellos and occasionally take you out out for lunch.  It was your most cherished time of day, his jokes and kindness always putting a smile on your face.

You could desperately use that positivity right about now.

But he never came, and the longer you waited, the worse you felt.  He probably got tied up in hero business.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  But usually, he’d send you a text message, letting you know he wouldn’t be able to stop by.  Today? Nothing.

His absence left an emptiness in you, giving doubt a place to hide.  How well did you really know Hawks, anyway?

When you’d first started spending time with him, it didn’t take long for you to realize that his cocky smirk didn’t always reach his eyes, and that despite how personable he was, he actually gave away very little of himself.  For all of his outward warmth, there was always a part of him that was completely walled off.  You’d accepted it, understanding that need for privacy, especially now that he was the #2 Hero in Japan.

But… there were times when you were both silent over lunch and you’d lock eyes with him.  In that moment, you could swear that you could see something in his dark pupils framed in honey... you couldn’t tell if it was need or loneliness. Maybe it was both.  Maybe it was neither.  But whatever it was, it made you want to reach out and touch his hand.

…which you never did, of course.  But you could feel your own feelings for him stacking like poker chips, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before the tower came tumbling down in a mess of words (or tears).  Today you could feel that tower start to teeter, and terror filled you at the possibility that he might not be there to catch you.

What if he didn’t care?

Someone cleared their voice and you snapped out of your thoughts to lock eyes with your boss.  He pinned you with a withering glare and you ducked your head back down to your work.  

You couldn’t think about this right now.  You had to make it through the day, get a decent night’s sleep, and see how you felt in the morning.  And maybe… if you were still having these feelings… maybe you’d find the courage to say something to him.

The day moved painstakingly slowly, made even worse by the frequent checking of your phone, until finally you were able to clean up your desk and go home.  By this point, exhaustion pulled at you, the weight of your concerns heavy in your mind.

You got down to the parking level of the building and made your way to your car.  Once you got there, you went to grab your keys only to find….

Nothing.

You checked your pockets.  You checked your briefcase.  Your keys were nowhere to be found.

“Oh shit…” you muttered.  “No, no, no….”

You checked all of your belongings again, but once again found nothing.  Realization dawned on you.

You’d left your keys on your desk.  And now the office was locked.

“God damn it!” you cursed, as you jiggled the car door handle.  It was futile of course.  You knew it would be.  You let out a frustrated groan as you leaned against your car.  This was it.  The was the last straw.  You were so done.  You could feel the burning in your eyes as your vision began to blur.

“What’s wrong, Little Dove?”

Your eyes shot up to see Hawks standing six feet from you. Your heart pounded in your chest and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or excitement.  He was here.  And yet, of all the times for him to finally show up… 

You averted your eyes from him.  The last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

“Nothing,” you sniffed.  “I’ve just… had a really rough day.” Words began to spill out of your mouth, with nowhere left to keep them.  “I was late to work, and my boss chewed me out, and customers sucked, and now I’m locked out of my car, and… and…” 

You barely managed kept yourself from blurting out the most important piece of information, clamping down your jaw to force your silence.  You couldn’t tell him that part… not yet, not like this.

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks, wet rivulets betraying your forced composure.

Not a moment later, his arms surrounded you, his red, soft feathers wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth.   After all of the negative thoughts swimming in your mind all day, this bold gesture of affection took you by surprise, knocking the breath from your lungs.  It was exactly what you needed, giving you the answer to the heavy question that had been plaguing you all day.  You fell into it gratefully, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him in return. Your anxiety and stress were washed away by his intimate embrace and more tears slipped down your cheeks.  Grateful tears.  Happy tears.  

His hand stroked your head as he muttered reassurances into your ears. His voice was like a song, filling every tired corner of you with new life.

Once you had calmed down, you gave a soft laugh into his wet shoulder. “I didn’t think you were the hugging type.” you teased.

“Only with someone I care about.” he replied. You squeezed him tighter against you, his wild hair tickling your cheek, and his arms responded in kind.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come by today.” he apologized.

You finally pulled away slightly and wiped at your eyes.  “It’s okay…”

You wanted to laugh.  It all felt so silly now.  So small and insignificant.

He loosened his arms on you, while his wings maintained their gentle curtain around the two of you.  “I got you something…”

He pulled out a flat rectangular box from his jacket pocket.  You chuckled. How very like him to come to you with another gift.  But you could tell that this time, it was different.  You took it from his hand and opened it.

A smile spread across your face as you removed the chain of a thin silver bracelet from the container.  The silhouette of a bird sat in the center - a dove.

“It’s perfect.” you whispered.   You watched as his hands took the jewelry from you and secured it around your wrist, his touch delicate.

“Next time you’re feeling lonely or having a bad day, I want you to look at this and know I’m always with you.”  His finger tilted your chin up until you were looking in his warm amber eyes.  This time the mystery in them was gone, warm affection taking its place.  “You got that, Little Dove?”

You laughed and nodded, his touch making you giddy as his words tied bows from your heart to his. 

“Thank you.” you said softly.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips, barely giving you time to register what he’d done before he pulled away.  He watched you process his stolen kiss with a cheeky grin as a combination of elation and annoyance washed over you, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Wha…” you stuttered. “Excuse you...”

He gave a chuckle and booped your nose with his finger.  “Well... Now that that’s done, can I take you out to dinner?”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #bnha #mha

[starsfic]

First Date

Summary: Red's first date with Xiaotian comes.

AO3

Notes: Related to my fic The Foxes Hunt the Hounds. I will write a summary of this AU one day but this is not that day.

-_-

Red had too many clothes.

That was the fact that he had come face to face within the face of his and Xiaotian’s first date. He growled as he shoved some dresses from his ‘experimenting with gender’ phase aside- they were cute but probably not the right fit for a casual first date that he had finally gotten the courage to ask the cute boy on, said boy acting as a death spirit be damned. A ding from his phone drew him from his thoughts of setting the whole damn closet on fire.

It was from Xiaotian, asking how his morning was.

It was good, which was a lie but Red didn’t want the cute boy to worry.

Finally, he just grabbed a black sweater and his favorite jacket. It was casual and he liked it. Plus he was going to be late if he fulfilled those dreams of setting his closet on fire right now. After shoving them on, yanking a brush through his hair, and grabbing the bouquet he had delivered earlier, Red marched out.

“I’ll be back!” he yelled over his shoulder, not even pausing to see if anyone answered. He opened the garage door and had a brief crisis over which vehicle to take before grabbing the small city car. It wasn’t his best work but it was quiet and subtle.

Once he was driving, Red felt himself relax. This was his and Xiaotian’s first date. Their third real-life face-to-face interaction that didn’t involve Xiaotian taking a soul and forcing Red to call 911 or clean up a body. A small smile formed at the thought of his crush and Red couldn’t help but speed up.

Finally, he was in the city proper. Xiaotian had texted him the directions to where they were eating lunch- the noodle shop he worked at, which was really good and awesome and you’ll love it Red and he had agreed because he was head over heels. Finally, he parked outside a small building.

A pink neon sign revealed that Xiaotian worked at Pigsy’s Noodles. The sign was of a pig in a chef’s uniform, shrugging with a sheepish grin. Cute. Red paused a moment to straighten his coat, make his hair a little more presentable, and make sure the flowers were fresh and perky. Then he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was a dragon.

Red blinked, stepped back outside, and thought that over. Then he stepped back inside and yes, that was a dragon. A white and green dragon hanging from the ceiling, eyeing him. “You must be Red!”

With a girl’s voice.

“...yes. I am.”  Red’s understanding of the world had been broken the night he had stumbled across that murder in the alley. So, dragons were real. He was fine. This was fine. “Uh… is Xiaotian...here?”

“Yeah!” There was a flash of light and the sound of footsteps hit the floor. When the spots in his vision faded, Red was face to face with a girl. She had a wide grin, dressed in a white shirt and pants and a green varsity jacket, a dragon’s tail swishing back and forth on the floor as she examined him. “He’s upstairs, trying to talk Pigsy out of hiding the pepper spray in his pocket.”

Okay. “Sounds… reasonable.” Red cleared his throat and held out his hand. “I’m Red. You must be Xiaojiao.” Xiaotian had mentioned his best friend in their conversations over text and FaceTime. His hand was taken and shaken firmly.

“I am! And your new bestie.” The last sentence was said so firmly Red could only nod, still very off-guard by all… this. The next thing he heard was the click of a camera and then Xiaojiao was tapping away on a phone. Before he could ask, footsteps drew his attention. A door slammed open and a human man stepped through.

He gave Red a quick glance over and then threw a yell over his shoulder. “PIGSY, QUIT IT WITH THE PEPPER SPRAY, RED’S HERE!” There was a loud thunk upstairs, followed by cursing. The man stepped away from the door, offering a hand. “Hello, I’m Tang.” Red took his hand and gave a shake. “I’m one of Xiaotian’s father figures.”

Oh. Oh, boy…

Before Red could panic and get angry and ruin everything in the face of Xiaotian’s best friend and one of his parental figures, more footsteps echoed and then Xiaotian was shooting out.

Looking… alive. The white uniform he wore as a psychopomp appeared to have paled him, making his hair stand out in stark contrast. But, right now, his skin was warm and his hair was messily tied back with a red headband and he wore an orange jacket, and he…

He looked like sunshine.

Red felt himself warm in Xiaotian’s presence, feeling a smile spread across his face. “Hi,” he said.

“Red, hi!” Xiaotian’s smile made the warm feeling grow. “It’s so great to see you!” He trotted up, looking so happy and eager. “I’m really sorry, Pigsy-” He came to a stop, staring at the bouquet. “Is that for me?”

“Yes!” He pushed them into Xiaotian’s hands. “I wasn’t sure what flowers you liked but you said your favorite color was orange, so…” He made a gesture to the flowers, unsure of how to communicate.

“I love them!” Xiaotian buried his face, taking a deep sniff of their perfume. “Let me go get a vase. Feel free to pick a table and everything’s good!” And just like that, he was gone again. Red blinked and then turned to see Tang and Xiaojiao watching him. Then there was a yell from the kitchen. “YOU TWO, QUIT WATCHING HIM!”

The two immediately turned to whatever they were doing. He let out a sigh of relief, turning to go pick out a table. But then he was face to face with a pig in a chef’s uniform… like the logo. This must be Pigsy.

“You hurt him and nobody will find your body.” And just like that, Pigsy was walking into the kitchen.

Red took a deep breath. This was fine. He was fine. He marched to a corner booth, feeling stiff and awkward. But then Xiaotian was stepping back in and then slipping next to him, a soothing smile on his face. He relaxed.

Yeah, this was fine.

#au #my writing #Lego Monkie Kid #Monkie Kid #Spicynoodleshipping #Red Son #Long Xiaojiao #Mei #Tang #Qi Xiaotian #MK #Pigsy

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 11

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

I... totally forgot to update last week.  Oops.  Lab time’s started so uni got a little distracting.  Also you guys seemed to love the hoodie thing so I figured that had you satisfied for a little while :P (if you haven’t seen it, @louthestarspeaker did some amazing art for that!)

No warnings for this chapter (wow, it’s been a while), unless you think Scott being a flirt needs a warning.

<<<Chapter 10

“So where are we going now?” Scott asked, changing the topic.

“Your call,” Other-Gordon shrugged, even though Scott was fairly sure he had a destination in mind from the way he was driving.  There was no hesitation about their route.  “We can take a break and get ourselves a bite to eat, or we can get the rest of the shopping done and find food after.”

Scott mentally ran through what they had left to get.  “How likely are the paparazzi to hound us for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Most likely they’ll be asking around what we were buying for a while,” Other-Gordon told him.  “After that, it depends how interesting they find us, and if they can find us again.”

Scott drew the line at paparazzi squawking about his choice of underwear, and sighed.  “Might as well get those underpants now, then,” he said.

“If you’re sure,” Other-Gordon said.  He sounded dubious, but Scott glanced at him and saw concern, rather than disagreement.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly.  “Unless you’re about to tell me I’ll need fittings for that because if that’s the case then I’m sticking with what I’ve got.”

Other-Gordon laughed.  “Well, it’s lucky for all of us that there won’t be any fittings in the next shop, then,” he grinned.  “Underpants, socks and pyjamas are all in the same place.  We’re sticking with Scott’s usual haunts now,” he added.  “Less for the paparazzi to get their teeth into.”

Scott swallowed, thankful for the heads’ up.  Typically, sharp ginger eyes didn’t miss it.

“Say, we didn’t get to have that chat about a pattern yet, did we?” Other-Gordon commented.  Scott sighed.

“I should be fine,” he said.

“Scott.”  The disappointment was clear.  “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

He was right but that didn’t stop Scott disliking it.

“If I’m expecting it, it’s fine,” he clarified, although Other-Gordon’s raised eyebrow said things were still as clear as mud.

“Expecting what.”  It wasn’t a question, but an expectation, and Scott sighed.

“People that know your brother,” he admitted.  “The paparazzi, being recognised in the streets… they’re one thing. That’s fine.”

“It’s people who know Scott,” Other-Gordon finished for him. Scott nodded.  “That explains Madeleine, but not George.  Jones…  We weren’t with him long enough for him to notice anything?”  Scott nodded again.  “So, George is the opposite?  We were with him too long?”

“Something like that,” Scott agreed.  “He saw when I slipped and tried to use the catalogue like I would at home.”

Other-Gordon made a noise that sounded a little like a suspicion had been confirmed.

“I don’t know for sure if it’ll help,” he said.  “But try to remember two things.”

Scott looked over at him again and resisted the urge to tell him to put both hands back on the wheel as one fist raised, a single finger extended.

“First, outside the airport no-one here knows Scott that well. Certainly not well enough to notice any small differences.  Even your voice might not be enough to raise most people’s suspicions, that’s mostly a precaution.  They’re not going to see one small slip and peg you as an imposter.  Scott doesn’t go shopping much, and he prefers going to Kansas or New York for the most part.  Auckland’s only for short day trips.  Anyone acting familiar outside of the airport is doing exactly that.  They’re acting.”  A second finger raised.  “Secondly, you’re Scott Tracy.  You might not be my Scott, but you’re still Scott Tracy.  Have a little faith in yourself.”

“Aren’t you watching me and logging all the differences between us?” Scott asked, and Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.  He did, thankfully, at least put his hand back on the wheel.

“That’s how I know you can pull this off,” he said.  “There are differences, but they’re ones I see because I’m family.  Tom, Dick and Harry aren’t going to notice a jot.”

“George did.”

“George saw you doing something weird,” Other-Gordon shrugged.  “No more catalogues, no more swishy fingers.”

“Swishy fingers?”

“You looked like you were conducting an orchestra,” Other-Gordon told him bluntly.

Okay, Scott could see that.

“Hold your head high and pretend you own the place,” the ginger advised. “We won’t be in this shop long.” He pulled into another car park, next to a sleek building advertising Outstanding Private Garments for the Gentleman. “But if that doesn’t work, remember four for Four,” he added.  “Three if you just need some space.”

Despite himself, Scott found himself grinning.  “Three for Three, four for Four,” he repeated.  “I can remember that.”  Associating the numbers with Thunderbirds was simple, but definitely effective.

“Whatever helps you remember,” Other-Gordon shrugged.  “But like I say, we shouldn’t be in here long.  Ready?”

In answer, Scott plucked at the lever in the side of the door, letting it open. Other-Gordon took the hint.

The inside of the shop was much more like Lemaires’, if less filled with customers, than the workshop store had been.  The class difference was painfully obvious, and Scott found himself wondering why rich meant stuffy here.  It was going to be a relief when he could shuck off Other-Scott’s clothes – still too smart for Scott’s liking even if it was clearly supposed to be casual wear – and put on something that fit his own definition of casual.

Not-Dad could scowl about undone buttons and rolled up sleeves all he wanted, but if Scott was going to suffer being in a different universe, he’d at least do so comfortably.

A salesman headed over to them, apparently drawn like a magnet to the sniff of money, and Scott contentedly stayed back as Other-Gordon repeated their spiel about a lost voice and explained what they were after.

You’re Scott Tracy.  It almost mirrored Not-Dad’s departing message remember you’re a Tracy, and Scott wondered if this was what the older man had meant.  He threw a grin in the salesman’s direction when the man looked at him, kept his back straight and hands – both of them – in his pockets.

Just doing that made him feel like he really did belong there.  It was a dangerous thought, and Scott quickly clarified to himself that by there he meant in the shop, and not in this universe, because he certainly did not belong in the latter and couldn’t wait to get home.

As the man led them down aisles, presumably towards the underwear Other-Gordon had specified, he caught a look of approval from the ginger.

It wasn’t much, just a brief curl of the corner of his mouth and a split second of eye contact out of the corner of his eye, but it lifted a weight Scott hadn’t noticed settling on his chest.

He could do this.  It was just some clothes.

Some clothes in a different universe and subsequently different fashions. Apparently this universe had not yet discovered his preferred style, or at least didn’t offer them for Gentlemen.  He pointedly ignored Other-Gordon watching him even as he nattered away to the salesman, no doubt keeping him distracted, and mentally ran through the options in front of him.

Comfort and practicality were both important, and it was with that in mind that he made his selection, hoping he wouldn’t notice the difference too much when he was wearing them.  He didn’t know how often they did laundry, but in a vain hope he wouldn’t be in this universe for too long, he grabbed a week’s worth before turning back to the other men.

Other-Gordon’s face betrayed nothing about his selection, but he did obligingly prod the salesman into leading them to the socks.

Once again, fashion differences made themselves known as trainer and ankle socks seemed to be entirely absent from the choices, leaving Scott with the simple choice of what pattern he wanted on the calf-high woollen offerings. They reminded him more than a little of soccer socks, and he kept half an eye on Other-Gordon as a yellow pair found their way into the selection amongst the blues, whites and blacks.  To his frustration, the ginger seemed to have pulled on a poker face, no doubt anticipating that Scott would try and throw him again with colour selection.

Still, even that gave him some sort of sense of normalcy, which in turn kept him calm and focused on what they needed to do, and not what anyone else was thinking of him.  Other-Gordon keeping up a stream of chatter with the salesman – whose name Scott realised he still hadn’t caught – was enough to quell the last of the what-ifs, and even selecting a few pairs of pyjamas was much less of a trial than it could have been.

Even if Scott really wished he could just wear a tatty old t-shirt and shorts like he defaulted to at home.  Unfortunately, Gentlemen apparently wore sleeping shirts made of cotton with matching full-length trousers, much like the ones he’d woken up in earlier that morning, and once again had a limited selection that seemed to mostly vary in the shape of the collar and length of the arms.

Assuming that this universe’s Tracy Island tended towards the same temperatures as his home, he opted for mostly thinner, short-sleeved choices, and ignored the many patterned ones in favour of plain where he could.  Blue, yes, but there was also dark grey and another red and black chequered pattern he couldn’t bring himself not to choose.

Amber eyes narrowed at the final selection, Other-Gordon logging it and no doubt wracking his brain for anything that might be inspiring his now second choice for that combination.  Scott was mostly hopeful he wouldn’t figure it out, but the other man had proven himself to be extremely sharp.  There was always a chance he would.

“That seemed like it went better,” the ginger commented once the clothes were paid for and they were back in the car.  The engine purred, although the car was still in neutral and Other-Gordon was leaning back in the seat.  Scott hoped the fuel was as carbon neutral here as it was at home.

‘Went better’ wasn’t a hard thing to surmise, considering it was the first shop Scott hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in – or any real panic at all. “What helped?”

They had one shop left to go, by Scott’s estimation, and no doubt he was going to have to interact with strangers again for it.  Even at home, shoe shopping still required checking they fit, so he didn’t dare hope it would be avoidable here.  After the reprieve of the relatively easy experience he’d just had, he hoped he could hold it together long enough to get a couple of pairs of sneakers.

“No fittings,” he said dryly when Other-Gordon cleared his throat meaningfully. “It was easier to ignore everyone else.”

“That’s not going to be possible when we get the shoes,” Other-Gordon reminded him, and he sighed.

“I know,” he said.  “But I can handle it.”

“Do you want that café break now?”

Scott shook his head.  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.  “Putting it off won’t make it easier.”

“If you’re sure,” Other-Gordon replied, but there was no dubiousness in his tone this time.  Scott suspected he wasn’t the only one relieved at the success in the latest shop. The ginger shifted the car into drive and then they were rolling out onto the streets again.  “How many shoes are you thinking of?”

“Two should be enough,” Scott shrugged.  “Both sneakers.”

“No sandals?” Other-Gordon looked surprised.  Scott shook his head again.

“I won’t need those,” he said.  “Two pairs of sneakers will be plenty.”

“Well, I suppose you can always steal Scott’s shoes if you end up needing anything else,” the other man mused.  “You’ll need protective boots before you get in the hangars properly,” he added, “but we can’t get those here.”

“I have protective boots,” Scott reminded him.

“Only when Brains isn’t prodding at them,” Other-Gordon pointed out.  “I didn’t look at your boots that closely but they looked weird.”

“I’m almost certainly going to think the same thing about yours when I see them properly,” Scott shrugged.  “They’re protective enough.  Not quite as heavy duty as Virgil’s, but they’re still superior to steel caps.”

“Sounds useful,” Other-Gordon commented.  “We’re here.”

That had been a considerably shorter drive than any of the others. Scott made to get out of the car, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Scott got new sneakers recently,” Other-Gordon warned him.  “So the chaps here will remember him.”

The pressure that had lifted with the last shop made its return known with a vengeance, and Scott grit his teeth.  The hand on his arm tightened, grounding him, and he glanced over at Other-Gordon.

“Will it help if I go over the story with you now?” the ginger asked, serious eyes meeting his through the shades.  “Remember, they might remember him, but they don’t know him. Behave like you did in the last shop and everything will be fine.”

“The story?” Scott asked, taking a deep breath.

“That you like them enough to want more,” Other-Gordon clarified.  “As for your hand; you slipped over by the pool and grazed it.”

Scott hadn’t even considered his hand, and that he’d need to be using it.

“Scott, are you okay to go in or do you want that café break first?” Other-Gordon asked, seriousness laced all through the words.  Scott swallowed.  Instinct told him he was going to struggle, but his pride rebelled at the idea of running away.

His lack of an immediate answer seemed to be all Other-Gordon needed as he shoved the car back into drive.

“Wait-” Scott protested as he realised they were leaving.  Sharp amber eyes looked at him.

“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

Breakfast?  Scott blinked, caught out by the question.

“All you’ve had since you got here was Grandma’s apple pie,” Other-Gordon continued.  “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel mighty peckish, and I had a nice, leisurely breakfast after my swim this morning.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, Scott realised the churning in his stomach might not be entirely looming panic.  He didn’t actually remember breakfast.  There was that early morning call-out; he’d chugged a coffee during John’s briefing then gone to pluck the climber from the mountain, and then returned home with the intent of catching a couple more hours of sleep before properly facing the day.

Food, he realised, hadn’t featured at all.  He’d left One, somehow fallen through a universe collision, and then ended up here.

“Coffee,” he eventually answered.

“And?”

Scott shrugged.  “Early morning callout.  Bed was the plan when I got back.”

“Hold on a moment,” Other-Gordon said.  “You’re telling me that slice of apple pie’s the only thing you’ve eaten in… how long?”

“I ate dinner last night,” Scott defended himself.

“Gee.”  Other-Gordon shook his head.  “That settles it.  We’re going to a café and you’re going to eat.”

Scott didn’t have an argument for that one, and his stomach made its agreement known by grumbling at him suddenly.  Other-Gordon laughed.

“We’ve got all day,” he reminded him.  “We can take our time, remember?”

Scott sighed, but knew when he was beaten.  “You got a place in mind?”

“A few,” Other-Gordon said.  “Say, you don’t have any allergies, do you?”

“Nothing I’m aware of,” he assured him.

“In that case,” the ginger said.  “The Nine Bells has some private booths and a good menu.”

The name wasn’t familiar to Scott, but he hadn’t spent much time in Auckland for the sake of sight-seeing – or shopping – so he didn’t know if it didn’t exist in his universe or if he’d just never had cause to go near it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, and Other-Gordon shot him a grin.

“They serve apple pie,” he promised, and Scott rolled his eyes.  Even he’d noticed Other-Scott’s fondness for the food, so it was no surprise at all that Other-Gordon had his favourite dessert pegged already.  “And their coffee’s good.”

“What about their tea?” Scott asked, keeping a straight face as he got the double-take reaction he was hoping for.

“You drink tea?” Other-Gordon asked.  Scott shrugged.

“Only in England.”

Other-Gordon huffed, and Scott let the threatening grin creep onto his face. “I should have seen that coming,” the ginger grumbled.  “You’re terrible.”

“I’m a big brother,” Scott shrugged.  “Can’t let the younger ones win all the time.”

“Definitely a Scott,” Other-Gordon muttered, shaking his head. “Let’s get some food in you.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Scott agreed.  Now that he was aware of the gnawing hunger, it clearly had no intentions of letting him forget about it.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Scott let himself properly look out at the streets as they drove through.  Much of it was unfamiliar to him; shop fronts were styled differently, and there were no holograms lighting up sales as they tried to entice customers to browse.  That was no doubt entirely due to the difference in technologies, although he was getting the impression that even society seemed to be subtly different at times.

If Other-John and Other-Brains couldn’t find a quick way to get him back and he was stuck here for a while until they figured it out – and they would figure it out, because Scott couldn’t afford to think otherwise – he was going to have a lot to learn even though he doubted he’d be leaving the island much, at least not as Scott Tracy.  If he was going to be living here for a while, he was definitely going to get involved in International Rescue somehow.

He couldn’t imagine sitting back and watching others do what was his job without stepping in to help, and inaction was never his style.

“Everything alright?” Other-Gordon asked suddenly.  “You’ve gone quiet.”

Scott shrugged.  “Just thinking,” he answered, not looking away from the passing buildings.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Scott rolled his eyes.  Some things transcended universes, apparently.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the ginger continued.  Scott wondered if he was worried he was spiralling again.

“Just about-” he cut himself off, remembering that even if they were in the car they were out in public – a public that didn’t know about International Rescue’s identity.  “The family business,” he hedged.

“Yours or ours?”

“Yours, mostly,” Scott admitted.  “Where I’ll fit in.”

“Dad won’t say no,” Other-Gordon assured him.  “It’s short-staffed for obvious reasons, but those don’t apply to you. I know the two of you aren’t seeing eye to eye right now, and I won’t lie – working out where you sit in the hierarchy is going to take a lot of compromise, mostly on your end – but if you’re going to be hanging around, you might as well make yourself useful.”

It was the second time Other-Gordon had confidently said he’d be able to join their International Rescue, although Scott was well aware there’d be a lot of difficulty fitting in.

He’d been Commander of his International Rescue longer than this International Rescue had been operating.  But he didn’t know their technology, their limits and procedures. Even the jargon was different.

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” he said, and Other-Gordon laughed.

“No-one’s going to doubt that,” he promised.  “You don’t do well sitting around, do you?”

“Another shared trait?” Scott assumed dryly.  To his surprise, Other-Gordon shrugged.

“I think you’re worse for it,” he admitted.  Startled, Scott looked away from the passing buildings to regard Other-Gordon again.  “Scott doesn’t do well sitting around all the time, but that doesn’t stop him lounging for a few hours with the rest of us.”  Amber eyes glanced over at him.  “I get the feeling you’ve forgotten how to.”

That was getting dangerously close to Dad’s crash again, never mind the fact that Other-Gordon was right.  His own brothers had got on his case about it enough for Scott to know he hadn’t relaxed in years.  Not properly.

“I remember how,” he muttered, the words coming out more defensively than he’d intended.

“Something tells me you’re not going to be demonstrating that knowledge,” Other-Gordon challenged, once again right because he was entirely too sharp.  Scott knew he wouldn’t be able to relax at all until he was home and knew his brothers were all safe and well.  “I’m not going to stop you,” the ginger continued. “But don’t burn yourself out.”

“I won’t,” Scott promised.

Other-Gordon’s silence loudly proclaimed that he expected otherwise but knew better than to call him out on it.  Scott appreciated it; that was a heavy enough conversation for his liking.

There had been a lot of those on this shopping trip, despite him choosing Other-Gordon to avoid them.  It would have been so much worse if he’d come with anyone else.

Part of him wasn’t looking forwards to getting back, because then he’d have the whole island watching him again.  He also, he realised, needed to apologise to Other-Virgil for brushing him off so abruptly, even if he was glad he’d stood his ground against Not-Dad.

Dealing with Not-Dad on a regular basis was definitely going to be the hardest part of this universe.  Scott knew he was going to have to talk to the man, especially if he was going to join their International Rescue, but he looked just like Dad, and even now his chest hurt when he thought about it.

“We’re here,” Other-Gordon said, pulling into a car park in front of a large building that proclaimed The Nine Bells in a neat cursive.  It looked fancy, but then Other-Gordon had said they offered private booths, which Scott was well aware they’d need.

He followed the ginger into the building, where they were promptly greeted by a waitress.

“Good afternoon, sirs,” she chirped.  “A table for two?”  Her eyes were firmly fixed on him, and he knew he was wearing shades but she was pretty cute so he sent her a wink and a grin anyway.

She flushed red.  Good to know he still had it in another universe.

“A private booth, please,” Other-Gordon said, stepping forwards and – ow – onto Scott’s foot.  Well, if he wanted him to be himself, then he was going to flirt with the pretty girls, regardless of whether or not he could talk.

“Of course,” she stammered, still looking at him rather than the Tracy that was actually talking to her.  “This way.” Still bright red, and throwing glances at him over her shoulder, she slipped between the public tables until they came to a concealed privacy booth, no doubt for their richer customers. Scott supposed Tracys counted. She hovered as they both slid into seats, before placing menus in front of both of them – him first.  He thanked her with another grin, and got a nudge in the shin from Other-Gordon.

“Would you like a jug of water?” she asked him.  Other-Gordon jumped in with the affirmative, and she hurried off to get it.

“Must you flirt with the waiting staff?” the ginger asked after she was gone. Scott shrugged.

“She’s pretty,” he said.  Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“If it makes you happier,” he sighed, and Scott definitely heard the underlying relief there that something was cheering him up.

“I’ll take the small victories where I can get them,” he confirmed, pulling the menu down in front of him.  “I don’t suppose you’ll take her number for me?”

“Not under false pretences,” the other man retorted.  Scott scowled; he had a point.  Other-Gordon shook his head and grinned.  “At least you’re looking happier.”

“Until you stole my fun,” Scott grumbled, but he knew Other-Gordon was right. He couldn’t flirt seriously with anyone while he was pretending to be Other-Scott.

“Just choose something from the menu,” Other-Gordon told him.  “Several somethings, if this is really your first meal today.  Grandma will have my hide if you pass out on me.”

“I’m not going to pass out,” Scott protested, but he looked at the menu anyway.

Food, it seemed, was the same across universes.  It wasn’t much hassle to find something he liked – he’d never been a particularly picky eater, and from the amused looks on Other-Gordon’s face, the ginger could probably have ordered for him without even asking.

“The same?” he asked resignedly.

“Near enough,” Other-Gordon shrugged.  “Coffee?”

The waitress reappeared before Scott could give a verbal answer, so he nodded as she set the water and two glasses down on the table.

“Are you ready to order, sirs?” she asked, once again fixed on him as she withdrew a notebook from her apron and held a pencil up, poised to write.

Rolling his eyes, Other-Gordon placed the order for both of them.  She looked a little put out that Scott, for all his grinning, wasn’t actually saying a word to her, and clearly Other-Gordon wasn’t feeling like a generous enough wingman to tell her that he couldn’t talk.

She hovered for a moment longer after writing down the order, but Other-Gordon looked away from her in a clear dismissal, and Scott reluctantly followed suit, leaving her scurrying away a little disappointedly.

“Now I seem fickle,” Scott huffed once she was out of earshot. Other-Gordon looked amused, smirking in an annoying little brother manner.

“You’re telling me you’re not going to start smiling at the next pretty woman you see?” he asked.  Scott rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point,” he denied.

“I disagree,” Other-Gordon retorted.  “Gee, you’d think they’d give the Olympic Champion the time of day, at least.”

“Not all the girls care about gold medals,” Scott smirked.  It was Other-Gordon’s turn to huff.

“They do when there’s no tall dark and handsome winking at them next to me,” he muttered.  “If there’s one thing that’s not so good about the job, it’s the secrecy.”

“It’s not worth the headache.”  That, Scott could say for certain.  “Trust me.”

“I’ll trust your grey hairs,” Other-Gordon agreed, and Scott scowled at him. He put his hands up.  “I promised not to ask questions and I won’t,” he said. “But if there’s anything you want to know, I’m available.”

“Here?” Scott asked, glancing around at the café.  The privacy booth at least meant he could talk, but he wasn’t so sure Not-Dad would approve of International Rescue being discussed there.

“Well, maybe not here,” Other-Gordon conceded.  “But any time.”

It was a comforting offer, especially after their first conversation where the man had physically and verbally cornered him and refused to let him near any of the Thunderbirds.

We’re on the same side.  The offer was an extension of that promise, and Scott nodded in acknowledgement.

“I still want that tour,” he said, and Other-Gordon laughed.

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” he said.  “I’ll have to clear it with Dad, but I’m positive I can convince him.”

That would be the first test to see if Not-Dad was, as Other-Gordon believed, going to be willing to let him join if they couldn’t immediately find a way to get him home.  Scott really hoped Other-Gordon’s optimism was in the right place.

The younger man reached for the jug in the middle of the table and poured himself a glass before reaching for Scott’s.  He pushed it closer with a nod of thanks and watched as it filled up before taking a drink.  He hadn’t realised how thirsty he was until the liquid hit his throat, and before he’d realised it, the glass was empty.

Other-Gordon raised his own glass in a mimicry of a toast before taking his own draft.

“You’re not going to tell me the last drink you had was that tea you kept dropping, are you?” the ginger asked.  Scott shook his head.

“Tin-Tin gave me coffee while we talked,” he said, grabbing the glass and pouring himself another measure before throwing that back as well.

“How did that go?” Other-Gordon asked.  “Was it useful?”

“I think so,” Scott said, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand.  “Most of what we discussed were things you already knew.  Otherwise, it was mostly technology differences.”

“Did she have any theories?” the other man asked, taking another drink of his water.

Scott shook his head.

“She just said she’d take it to your Brains,” he shrugged.  “The others came back so we went back for the debrief.”

“Alan was mighty miffed with you then,” Other-Gordon commented.  Scott had noticed.  “I’m guessing he saw you two together?”

“We met him on the landing,” Scott confirmed.  “He didn’t seem happy.  Is there any particular reason he’s so…”  He trailed off, trying to find a word to describe Other-Alan’s attitude in a way that wasn’t blatantly insulting.

“So Alan?” Other-Gordon asked.  “Mostly it’s because he’s the youngest.  Your Alan’s not like that?”

Scott scoffed.  “If my Alan talked back like that he’d be grounded and he knows it.  He’s younger than yours, but I’m not letting him grow up thinking he can get his own way all the time.”

“Aw, Alan’s not so bad,” the ginger said, clearly defending his younger brother.  “Sure, he can be a bit of a pain, but he’s a little brother.  Fame went to his head a bit after he kept winning races, and you didn’t make the best first impression on him by punching Scott, or breaking Dad’s nose.”

Scott sighed.  “He wouldn’t tell me where my brothers were,” he explained.  “Of course, at that point neither of us knew about this multiverse thing.”  He eyed the younger man.  “But by that logic, I didn’t make the best first impression on you, either.”

“You got that right,” Other-Gordon admitted.  “You seemed too dangerous to let wander around, I’ll admit, but Grandma and Tin-Tin didn’t seem bothered by you and then Brains and John had their theory – which you near enough proved – and I figured I’d give you a chance, you know?”

“You interrogated me,” Scott corrected dryly.  The other man shrugged.

“Details,” he dismissed.  “You’re not so bad, you’re just out of your depth.  Can’t say I blame you.  I couldn’t say how I’d have reacted if it were me.”  He paused for a moment.  “How are you holding up?”

Scott huffed tiredly and ran a hand over his face, wincing when they snagged the shades he forgot he was wearing.

“Right now, I’m fine,” he said, his instincts rebelling against telling the truth – that the idea was enough to scare him, that he was terrified he couldn’t get home.  Worried how his family were taking his disappearance.  “Ask me again after it’s sunk in.”

“I’ll do that,” Other-Gordon promised, taking another drink from his glass. Amber eyes scanned him searchingly, and Scott met his gaze head-on, daring him to claim he wasn’t as fine as he was pretending.

If the ginger had noticed the façade, he didn’t comment.  Then again, it was at that moment the waitress returned with a platter of sandwiches.  At the sight and smell of them, Scott’s stomach growled loudly.  The waitress was too shy to giggle, but he saw her eyebrows raise and he sent her a slightly sheepish grin before picking up one from the pile and toasting her with it.

Other-Gordon kicked him in the shins again.  Scott ignored him.

“Your coffee will be ready in a moment,” she said, smiling at him with cheeks coloured a rosy blush.  “Is there anything else I can get you right now?”

Your number, Scott thought, but Other-Gordon studiously avoided any eye contact with him as he dismissed the girl – without asking for her number, or explaining why he wasn’t talking.  Little brothers were a nuisance whatever universe they were from, apparently.

Scott huffed at him once she was out of earshot and bit into the sandwich with a little more vigour than was strictly necessary.

Other-Gordon’s response was a mixture of exasperation and faint disapproval as he took his own pick from the platter to eat.  “I told you, you’re not who she thinks you are,” he reminded him. “You can send all the flirty looks you want, I’m not asking for her number for you.”

“I know,” Scott sighed, swallowing the mouthful.  “Oh, these are good.”

Other-Gordon grinned.  “I told you the food here would be.”

“You did,” Scott acknowledged, polishing off the first one and grabbing another.  He supposed that if he was going to be stuck in another universe for a while, at least there was good food.

The blushing waitress – whose name he never caught, but she didn’t offer it and Other-Gordon didn’t ask – kept coming back with more of their ordered food as they ate.  The ginger devoured just as much as he did, proving he hadn’t been lying about his own hunger, and conversation was mostly dropped in favour of sustenance.

By the time the final dregs of Scott’s coffee were drained from the cup, he estimated they must have been there at least an hour, if not more.  He still hadn’t figured out how to read the analogue dial on the watch, and was at loathe to ask while they were in public.

Still, he was conscious that there was still one shop left to go, and the sun’s steady march across the sky was unrelenting.  They only had so much time, a fact supported by the way Other-Gordon checked his own watch before giving him a considering look.

“There’s an hour left until the shops close,” the ginger told him.  “Do you want to give it another try, or should we head back to the island?”  Scott raised an eyebrow at him.  He was fairly sure the ginger knew what his answer was going to be.

Sure enough, he got a groan and a mutter about pushing yourself too hard, but Other-Gordon waved the waitress over for the bill without trying to change his mind.

Chapter 12>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #long way from home

[catharrington]

Intercrurral prompt: Billy’s been harassing Steve all year, and it’s taking everything Steve has not to think bisexual thoughts about the guy he HATES. But one night, wrong place and wrong time, where they run into each other in the woods while Steve is on demodog patrol and Billy is escaping a bad run-in with Neil. Things boil over - the biggest imagery I have is Billy harshly whispering in Steve’s ear “Tell me you want this. TELL me you want ME.”

I know there has been a couple~~ intercrurral prompts~~ but hey man if it fits nicely why not buy it in every color?? Thank you for sending it in!!! Werewolf Billy and human Steve rough sex and bad attempts at dirty talk🖤

***

Billy was dripping; dripping with sweat, dripping with rage, dripping with blood. He was trickling it all down his fingertips and the button bridge of his nose to drop in fat drips to the grass underfoot. Stumbling through the forest aimlessly, searching for nothing but a hiding spot to lick his wounds. To tuck his tail between his legs and whimper like the dog he is.

Like the dog his father makes him feel.

The full moon is out this night and it makes Billy want to howl, instead he grinds his teeth and pushes forward.

The forests of Hawkins are quiet, always so fucking quiet, so much different from the way California sang with noise all hours of the night. Clubs blasting music, people screaming outside on the sidewalk, police sirens starting up and flicking off just as fast. Billy missed the noise. The hiding place it created. Now he had only an empty forest.

Until it wasn’t empty. Billy’s head swung around with the sound of bones cracking. He knew that noise, as much as he shouldn’t admit it. But he knew it.

Like a hound to fox blood, he follows his nose to the noise. Sniffs through the rotten underbrush of fallen Indiana leaves to find it. He stumbles out into a small clearing, if he can even call it that. Just a shallow hill covered with leaves and dirt and maybe ten feet between the trees on the other side.

Right in the middle, lit with the bluish glow of the moon, and framed with the movement of a baseball bat swinging in one of his hands, Steve Harrington stands.

He spins the bat again. A strand of something comes off of it in an arch, a wave similar to blood, but dripping clear and slimy like mucus. Billy has his mouth open watching it, Steve had his mouth open as well. They both watched, they both waited.

Billy turned his lip up in a growl. “Harrington,” he rasped. Not sure what he was saying, why he was, just wanted to get his claws sharpened on bones. Someone’s bones. His father’s bones. Steve’s bones.

All year long Billy has been barking up Steve’s tree. In the school hallways, shirtless at basketball practice, in the parking lot of the Palace Arcade. Billy was there, flashing his teeth with something to prove. Steve always blew him off, shoved as if he was bored. A child pushing a toy away he had become disinterested in.

But Billy could feel. He could taste the blood in the air of the full moon. Steve wasn’t disinterested. He was ripping, and cracking, and running around the woods in the middle of the night just like Billy was.

Billy knew he was different Steve Harrington wasn’t like the others, he held a secret, and the strength to maintain that secret. He wasn’t as disinterested as he let on. Billy’s wolf bristled.

“Hargrove,” Steve said back. Swallowed around his last name. Slipping his bat to hang slightly behind his body as if to hide it.

“What are you doing out here so late, Pretty boy? Ain’t exactly a safe meadow for a Bambi like you to be prancing through-,”

“God, why can’t you ever talk normal, not like a jerk all the time?” Steve takes his bat and hauls it over his shoulder, swings it hard and mean into the tree in front of him. There’s nails sticking out of all sides. Lets the force of the hit hold onto the bark, lets it so that Steve can release the handle and the bat remains stuck there.

Billy’s watching, impressed, as more mucus drips down over the nails.

“What are you doing here, Hargrove?” Steve asks point blank. He’s got a scrape on his chin.

Billy’s got a gash on his eyebrow that’s curling blood over his cheek and down his face, dropping off his chin drip by drip. He shrugs, glances around like he can’t be bothered.

“These woods aren’t safe,” Steve says, “you shouldn’t be walking alone,” and for the first time Billy noticed how his chest is heaving with the effort. How his hands are shaky. How there’s a red blush creeping over his high cheek bones that isn’t simply from the stuffy Indiana forest.

“I was running away from home before I got so rudely interrupted,” Billy says with an air of blasé, taking a step forward into the clearing, out from the darkness of the trees, pointing towards his eyebrow.

Steve’s wide brown eyes get even wider, he takes a step forward towards Billy. Reaching up with one hand to hover over the cut.

Fingertips press softly to flayed skin, as if asking permission, as if their touch alone could heal the pain. “Holy shit,” Steve whispers. Like he’s never seen a cut before. And Billy has to struggle to keep his eyes open.

“These woods ain’t safe, huh?” Billy says as he lifts one hand and curls it over Steve’s wrist. The bones feel thin in his fat fingers. He squeezes just to feel them shift.

“Ain’t safe from what, Harrington?” He asks in a mean voice.

Steve stays quiet, so he shoves the other boy hard. Walks him with another shove and then another until Steve presses up against a tree. His body rolling against the bark, his head laying to rest against it. Tilting his chin up, making his wild hair bounce, reveling his neck naked and bare under Billy’s jaws.

Their heavy breathing is in sync. Billy’s thinking about basket ball; about the way he shoves and pushes Steve around just to touch him. About the way it’s been months of bruises caused by pulling pigtails and Steve’s never said ‘stop’. Never in so many words.

If he would only say ‘stop’, Billy would. He isn’t a monster. He’s just a wolf, a flea bitten dog, sniffing and howling and watering at the mouth for the chase. For the chase.

Steve’s breathing heavy enough to make the veins in his slender neck protrude. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Billy watches the motion. Licks his lips.

“Ain’t safe, from what?” He asks again.

Steve breaths out and it’s a cloud of smoke into the night. “Billy,” he answers, “you talk too much.”

The full moon crescendos in Billy’s eyes, blocking their color out to only white, as he rushes forward to bite his teeth into Steve’s exposed neck.

He doesn’t bite to break skin, just sinks his teeth enough he knows he’s painting the pale skin purple. Marking watercolors that spiral and bleed into dark rain clouds of tones. All caused by Billy, all marking Steve as his.

“Billy,” Steve whimpers out. The motion makes his neck flex in Billy’s mouth. His hands lift up to cradle against the wild curls on the back of Billy’s head. Hold there softly, gently, like they’re kissing.

“Billy,” he chants.

“Billy,” he begs.

Flesh leaves his mouth in a hard squelching pop, already turning all the colors he wished it would. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, pulls him flush to his body and nuzzles his nose into the space of his neck and shoulder. He scents him, rubbing into Steve as much as he can. The blood on his brow and face only a passing thought as he rubs across Steve’s skin. Rubs until he changes the scent to something closer to his own.

“Gonna mark this pretty skin,” Billy hears himself growling from a distance, not his own body right there. But somewhere behind his wolf. “Gonna lay claim, mine,” he laps up Steve’s neck. His collar bones. Can taste his sweat and Billy’s own blood on his pale skin. Can taste something stranger than anything he’s tasted before and he licks at that hard, gets Steve clean of it.

“Mine.”

Gets Steve whimpering for him, weak in his knees and shivering limp against the tree. Billy’s arms the only thing holding him up.

Then they aren’t, Billy pulls Steve away from the tree just to turn him in the cage of his arms and push Steve down to kneel in the dirt. The grass leaving marks on his tight jeans. Leaves getting pushed away in a wild scramble for purchase on the filthy ground. Steve finds the base of the tree and braces against it, digging his human fingers into the roughness feveriously.

Whimpering the whole time.

“Billy,” he groans out, arching his back and letting his head drop between his shoulders.

Billy slides his fat fingers down the ladder of Steve’s ribs. Feels them protrude and flex under his shirt with every hard breath. Billy wants to let his claws rip from his skin and drag the flesh from bone, carve his name into Steve’s ribs.

He hikes up Steve’s ugly polo shirt and kisses along the bumps of his spine one by one. Messy, open, wet, all the way down to the leather of his belt.

“Wha- what, ahh, happened to your face?” Steve works the words out hard as Billy licks around the small of his back.

“Why ya wanna know?” Billy talks so his chin hits Steve’s skin.

Steve struggles to turn over his shoulder, meets Billy’s eyes. The wolf in them taking all the blue and leaving only a ghostly white. Steve’s breath hitches. He smells afraid, but he doesn’t let it show much. “Tell me,” he orders.

And he’s not the one to be making demands, bent over in front of a wolf on a full moon, his scent sticky with the honeyed sweetness of lust Billy won’t be able to get off his fur long into next month. But he does, he keeps his eyes on Billy. Inside his head Billy’s mind screams useless words like ‘mate’ and ‘love’, he shoved them down. Growls long and low.

“My father,” Billy mutters angerly into the wet skin of Steve’s hips. Says against his better judgement.

Steve whimpers again, breaks their eye contact to pathetically face the ground. As if he has something to be ashamed of, something to apologize for. The words ‘I’m sorry’ rumble in the night, but before he has a chance to say them Billy’s interrupting him.

“You tell me something, now,” Billy growls. Each word hard with his wolf growing stronger each second. “Tell me this is something you want, tell me you want this,” he demands.

“Billy,” Steve begs, his hips tremble. He rocks his hips, arching his back and pushing his shapely ass back into Billy’s hardening cock. Tries to show without saying, but that’s all they’ve been doing. Showing and not telling.

Billy needs to know. He needs the words.

“Tell me you want me?” Billy begs, flexing his hands into the plump flesh of Steve’s hips. Wishing he would flex his claws.

“I want you,” Steve admits in a curling groan. His voice wavering music box pretty. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Billy. I feel like I’ve gone crazy with it.” His voice sharp besides the lust apparent on it.

“Take responsibility,” Steve demands.

Inside his mind Billy lets his head tilt back and howl, his throat ripping with the sound. In the forest he buries all that into another kiss on Steve’s back. Sucking the skin into his mouth and biting down to leave a mark. Just as he promised.

Billy wraps his hands round to work on the buckle of Steve’s jeans. The metal jingles as it moves, rings out lovely alongside Steve’s moans. Running the zipper down it’s track, and pushing the denim and cotton briefs to slip down to where Steve’s knees are bent in the grass, Billy moans out himself as he finally gets his fingers on those milky thighs.

He trails his hands up, up, those long legs flushed rose blush. Feeling their hair soft under his rough hands. Billy pushes them so Steve’s thighs are together.

“Not tonight,” Billy mutters to himself as he works his cock out his own jeans, “not yet, only this for the night,” he’s warning. Spitting and licking his hand until it’s glistening then wrapping his hand around his shaft. Pumping his cock until it gets cherry red at the tip, biting his lip to keep from calling out.

Any questions swimming in those big brown eyes watching over his shoulder nervously was stopped short as Billy pushed his dripping wet cock between Steve’s thighs. Those strong fingers were back on his hips, almost ripping the skin as they shuffled about for a grasp. His fingers seem to shift and grow as they found purchase, fingernails elongating to leave half crescent moons on Steve’s skin. Leaving marks where ever his wolf could reach.

Billy started moving, letting his body roll with one long and low groan, before dipping his head forward to lean on Steve’s sweaty back.

He thrusted steady, slow, mean at first. Pulling back out so only his mushroom head was nestled between Steve’s thighs. Then pushing back in with a stab. Velvet skin rubbing raw from only spit as lube, but the friction was too good. The heat and the pressure of Steve’s thighs strong from running up and down the court. The same thighs Billy stood between while Steve was splayed out on his back, panting as heavy as he is now, and looking up at him with those doe eyes.

Innocent then, now, Steve’s catching his breath. Moaning just as feral as Billy’s own. Bracing his body as Billy’s thrusts jerk into it with a shoulder against the tree trunk. One hand a fist around his own long cock fully hard and curling over his stomach, dripping wet with pre cum. The other hand going down, down, between his legs to press his sweaty palm to his thighs. Cupping the head of Billy’s dick each time it pushed through again. Petting it. Possessing it. Making Billy preen under the attention.

“Faster,” Steve gasped out. Sounded like he surprised even himself. “Faster, Billy. Fuck me?”

And his voice turned up at the end like a question, his voice getting high pitched, as he buries his head against the rough tree in desperation.

“Steve,” Billy nuzzles his nose into the back of Steve’s neck, stretched taught and begging for it. He licks across the skin as he speaks. “It’s not safe out here- ah,” he breaks off with a hard thrust. His rythum starting to go. His release getting close.

Steve’s hand is quick over his own cock. It makes him thrust, and pant, and work to fuck himself into the tightness. His other hand, the one caressing the tip of Billy’s slick dick, is starting to pool with precum. The white dripping between Steve’s fingers. Smearing across the press of his thighs and making the scene messy, so messy, it felt so good.

“Not safe for you to be alone, can’t- ah, ah,... can’t have anything happen to-,” Billy’s words broke off with another moan, own that split at the seams into a growl. He wanted to talk. To lay down orders and demands, wanted to mark Steve and brag about Steve.

He burrows his head into that mess of brown hair and wildly shouts. Feels himself cum a writhing mess between Steve’s thighs. Ribbons shooting out across those gentle fingers. Whimpering like an injured dog into his soft hair.

Steve preens, his back arching under the heavy weight of Billy above him. He cums into his fist, pumping every drop out. His thighs shiver with the motions, squeezeing Billy’s soft cock even tighter between them. His hand wet with Billy’s cum braces against the tree. Holding them up as they laze.

The moment ages on, the moon curving across the sky. Light trickling between branches of the trees and across Steve’s pale skin.

Billy’s breath catches as he is shaken from his musing, shaken from watching how lovely Steve’s skin looks, by the boy brushing against him. A small tap of knuckles across his cheek.

Billy looks up, his eyes foggy and half open, sees Steve looking back. They pull apart just enough for Steve to wiggle his jeans back up. Cum trapped in the tight denim, fingerprints of white staining the fabric forever. That left a special possessive feeling in Billy’s chest. Made him smile as he watches Steve collect himself.

His eyes must still be white, Billy muses, it’s the wolf in him trying to pierce through while he’s weak under the moon. He’s used to it, able to hold off the transformation for now, but the appearance must make Steve uncomfortable.

Billy groans, rocks back on his ass to get comfortable as he can on the dirt of the forest floor, and turns to Steve to explain.

But Steve is watching him wide eyed. Those huge brown eyes perfectly round and sparkling as they examine not his face or his spent cock, but the top of Billy’s head.

Billy’s hands move slowly upwards, past his unruly curls to feel. He’s got a dread in his mind at what he mind find. It’s not less embarrassing when his fingers finally meet and curl around one of his fluffy ears.

Mid transformation, the eyes are not unnormal. The sex craze, the drool, these are not unnormal. Dishwater blond hair sprouting down his arms, over the back of his hands, and across his forehead is not unnormal. Billy winces as he remembers that his ears shifting first, is very not unnormal.

He growls low in his throat, an animalistic sound of annoyance. His teeth now pointed at the canines poke his lips.

Billy wants to turn with his tail between his legs. He blinks, afraid at what he might find, before looking back at Steve.

“Wow. Holy shit,” Steve laughs, and it comes out a little giggle.

Billy knots his thick brows together in confusion, watching dumbly as Steve’s face parts into an adorable smile. “What’s so funny, Harrington?” he mumbles around his large teeth.

“Holy shit,” Steve repeats. “You-,” he cuts himself off with another laugh. Lifting his hands as if his words won’t do him justice and he just has to touch.

Billy flinches away, unused to anyone reaching for him being a good thing. He turns his head and shoulders as if he could burst into a run. But he’s caught by Steve’s hands. Those thin, pretty, gentle fingers, tugging at the top of his ears. They pet his fur back, stroking across the backs of them and then swirling his thumb into the thick patch of hair that covers where they’ve grown from his head. The very sensitive patch of hair, Billy has to fight back a whimper.

Steve’s petting him, a smile on his face. His hand are so warm. Billy feels embarrassed, mortified, as he leans into the touch.

“You’re like the wolfman?” Steve asks, his voice low and jingling with humor.

Billy scoffs at him, “nah, I’m a werewolf!” he snaps.

“So that’s a yes, huh?” Steve flicks his eyes up and down from Billy’s ears twitching with annoyance to his face blushing cherry red.

“Fuck off, Harrington!” Billy growls, bares his teeth to shine bloodthirsty in the moonlight. “I could rip your throat out right now!”

Steve just laughs, runs his hands down through Billy’s wild curls made longer with the transformation and down to his shoulders. He braces himself as he climbs up Billy’s crossed legs. One of his knees on either side, planting his ass square on Billy’s lap.

It makes him shutter, makes him feel like running again, the feeling of Steve’s body curling up with his own. There’s a feral need in him that proves stronger. Billy braces Steve by the waist, wrapping his arms around him to steady him. To hold him close.

Steve leans down to kiss across the exposed sharpness of Billy’s teeth. All his long white fangs lined up ready to bite. Steve kisses them as if he was kissing gently into Billy’s lips.

“You don’t- you aren’t,” he stops growling, relaxing instantly. Billy sounds winded as he speaks. He feels exhausted, worn out from running. “You aren’t afraid?”

Steve brushes one finger across the fur growing on Billy’s cheeks, up around the socket of his eye and across his forehead, then sinks his fingers back into the fur of his ears. His fluffy, perky, wolf ears that just melt under the attention.

“You haven’t scared me off yet, Billy Hargrove. What makes you think you can now?”

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