#Blaze would look at Metal like 'maybe I can make him better'

[generic-sonic-fan]

I know this might be niche/20, but... Do you feel writing Metaze (Metal Sonic/Blaze) as a romantic pair ? Thinking about it I was fascinated by their similarities and differences (also in main canon they've never met so it's open to freedom !)

Ah, I'm so sorry for not answering this in a timely fashion!

Regrettably, I'm actually writing an Omega/Blaze fic write now, which is sapping just about all of my very low tolerance for romance writing. However, I'd still love to imagine some headcanons for you!

He/him pronouns for Metal, but I'm happy to modify if you'd prefer different ones!

Blaze x Metal Sonic (Metaze) Headcanons!

I like to imagine they met after Metal ended up in her dimension due to shenanigans from one of Eggman's experiments with the Chaos Emeralds.

Blaze shows up after feeling the disturbance in dimensions and finds him busted up in a crater. She does remember Sonic mentioning something about a robotic copy. . .

But when Metal Sonic gets up, he doesn't attack.

He's doing two things- attempting to reconnect to the Eggnet, and frantically searching his databanks to recognize this purple cat in front of him. He fails both.

Blaze, hesitantly, holds out her hand.

He takes it.

She leads him back to her palace. On the way, she explains where he is, who she is, and where she's taking him.

(She leaves out the part about being Sonic's friend. Something tells her he doesn't need to know.)

Once in the palace, she finds a notepad and pen so that he can finally respond.

She asks him if he's alright.

He replies, "status: operational."

"Yes, but are you alright?"

She spends the next ten minutes explaining, logically yet warmly, exactly what it means to be "alright" vs "not alright", answering any questions and rebutting any constructive criticism he might have of her definition.

She then waits patiently as Metal stares at his paper and pen.

He writes, "I am alright now. How did you explain so well?"

"It wasn't an intuitive concept for me either, at first," she replies. "I had to figure it out for myself."

And that's when Metal falls head over heels right there.

I imagine the following days are very little-mermaid coded. Blaze takes Metal on a tour of the palace. Seeing that Metal is instead listening intently instead of merely putting up with her for formality's sake (as so many in the royal court often do!), she begins talking more about things that interest her, like her favorite books.

Metal is enraptured by the way she talks. More accurately, the way she treats him as a person. She even waits for him to respond with his pen and paper instead of talking over him!

And she asks him questions as well! She seems genuinely interested in getting to know him! Not Sonic, but the real him!

. . . for better or for worse.

He has to struggle with the game of "how much can I share without giving away that I'm hard-coded to serve a megalomaniac villainous overlord."

But thankfully, Blaze doesn't pry. She understands- she wasn't so eager to share much about herself before she made her first friends either. She doesn't push it.

Moving onto more general headcanons I see for them:

They, as a couple, exist in a comfortable introverted silence.

Yet in between those comfortable silences, they share very sophisticated conversations.

I've always imagined Metal being a bit high-brow about art/literature if he was ever given the chance to be.

And I think Blaze would love discussing the literary techniques of her favorite books.

I think she'd like to read to him. He finds her voice so soothing.

She feels awkward about showing affection in traditional ways, so it's actually Metal that is the super doting, romantic partner of the two.

He loves getting her flowers and holding her hand. Classic, I know.

In return, she enjoys leaning against him. While standing, while sitting, pretty much just whenever.

The first time he felt her purr just about caused him to short-circuit.

As Blaze gets more comfortable with him, she starts to wrap her tail around his waist, and on rare occasions while alone, to nuzzle against his muzzle plating.

Anyways, I also headcanon that they LOVE dancing together.

Please, for your entertainment, imagine Metal in his Neo outfit dancing in a traditional ballroom style with Blaze in her own formal attire.

He's normally a very deferential partner but while dancing I think he'd love to take the lead. Spin her around. Dip her gently towards the floor.

All and all, a very soft and low-key couple, provided that Eggman doesn't interfere and reality comes crashing down.

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 1

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.2k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 1: The understatement of the century

To say Roronoa Zoro was intrigued would be the understatement of the century. The straw hats had arrived at the peaceful island the day before. It was by far the most boring island they’d visited on their voyage. The small port town was serene, seemingly untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It was a refreshing change of pace for the crew after the usual turmoil of their adventures. They’d decided to spend a few days on land while the log pose set the way to their new adventure. They’d relax a little, take the time to stock up on provisions and perhaps even enjoy a bit of leisure time.

At first he’d thought it was a fluke. He’d been seated at the bar when the bar tender whipped out a black bladed knife to cut a lemon. It couldn’t be, could it? And yet as he continued to examine it from afar, the more certain he’d been. It was most definitely a haki infused blade. His eye had narrowed as he’d taken in the old pudgy bar tender. No. He was normal. There was no way he’d infused the blade with haki. Whatever. He’d given up on the mystery for the night. He was here to drink, it didn’t matter.

It was the next morning as he reluctantly accompanied the silly cook for his errands that the mystery hit him again. The merchants were all using haki infused tools. Hell, even the farmer they’d crossed was raking with a haki infused rake. This should in no way be possible. It took years of battle for haki to infuse permanently with a blade. One was a fluke, there was an insanely small probability that maybe a kitchen knife could be infused with haki through generations. But this? This was not a fucking fluke. He’d felt something drop in his stomach at the realization. There was someone on this island infusing every scrap of metal they could find with haki.

The sudden awareness of the sheer amount of haki infused objects on the island ignited Zoro’s curiosity like a blazing fire. He had to know. That evening, he asked the bartender. “Oi, that blade. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, this old thing?” The portly man answered casually, as if it were the most ordinary knife in the world.

Zoro nodded encouraging the old man to continue.

“The witch made it,” he chuckled.

“Witch?” he asked incredulously.

“Well… She’s not exactly a witch. It’s just how the children refer to her,” he laughed heartily. “I bought this knife from our resident blacksmith. She can be a bit abrasive, but you won’t get a better knife anywhere else.” The old man twirled the knife in his hand, a fond look in his eyes. “I’ve had this one for years now, never had to sharpen it once. It’s just as sharp as the first day I used it.”

“Huh,” Zoro grunted in response.

“That’s right! They’re really amazing! If you want one of those, young man, you should go up the mountain to see her,” an older lady joined in to the conversation.

“Yes! It really is a must! You won’t find anything else like it,” another middle aged man sitting next to him added. “She always has a few good knives in stock.”

“She might chew you out though,” a younger woman added behind his back. “You never really know with her. It’s always a fifty-fifty chance,” the whole bar laughed at the comment. Clearly invested in the conversation. Comments and funny stories about their interactions with the ‘witch’ flowing through the tables.

“Up the mountain, huh?” Zoro muttered more to himself than anything.

“Aye, lad,” the bartender answered him. “But heed that warning. With her you never know whether she’ll sell you the knife or throw it at you.” Another wave of laughter went through the bar. Acclamations of ‘that’s right!’ and ‘true, true’ in agreement flowed around him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He downed his drink, a half-smile quirking his lips. He’d decided he’d find this ‘witch’. He had questions and he would get answers.

The next morning he’d woken up early. Robin had quirked an eyebrow in surprise as he’d entered the kitchen, sun still low on the horizon.

“Oh! Zoro!” Luffy had said between mouthfuls. “You going somewhere?”

Zoro grunted in response, his mind already set on the task ahead. “Yeah, I’m heading up the mountain” He replied tone resolute.

Luffy paused mid-bite, his expression shifting to curiosity. “What for?” He asked interest glinting in his eyes.

Zoro couldn’t help the faint smile twitching at his lips. “I’m gonna find a witch,” he said cryptically.

“A witch?” Robin inquired, setting down her book, evidently intrigued.

Sanji, who’d been quietly preparing breakfast, perked up at the mention. “You mean the blacksmith girl?” he interjected, a smile playing on his lips. “They say not only she’s talented but she’s a true beauty,” he added, hearts almost coming out of his eyes.

A ‘tsk’ escaped Zoro’s lips at the pervy cook’s reaction. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You better not spend all my money on some fancy blade,” Nami cut in, opening the door to the kitchen.

Zoro grunted in response.

Luffy with a full mouth asked “Can I come with?” He was clearly bored of doing nothing.

“Me too?” Robin added.

Zoro nodded in response. It didn’t really matter to him. He just had to put this mystery to rest.

Luffy swallowed down the mountain of food before him in one go. “Alright! Let’s go!” He declared excitedly with his signature grin marking his face.

“Don’t get lost!” Nami had screamed from the deck of the ship as the three of them made their way to the mountain path.

The trail was an arduous one but it wasn’t too hard to navigate. The air growing crisper and colder as they ascended. Robin led the way, chuckling at their captain’s tone-deaf singing. The scenery was nice, the quiet rustle of leaves and distant hum of birds accompanying their journey.

“Oi, Zoro, why do they call the blacksmith a witch?” Luffy asked along the way.

“Dunno,” Zoro replied.

“I heard some children say the witch puts magic in the metal she forges,” Robin answered instead. “Some of them say they could see black things floating around when she works. Others say it’s only the product of children’s imagination” She continued. “It’s a mystery really.”

“Ehh! “ Luffy interjected. “Magic huh, sounds interesting” he mused.

“It’s probably just haki,” Zoro added.

“Most likely, after all not everyone is able to see it” Robin agreed. “You see, Luffy, what’s actually the mystery is the concentration of haki infused objects in this town,” She carried on, all attention on her. “In archaeology, haki infused blades are an extremely rare find. They are very few and far in between. Zoro probably knows more than me on the subject,” She eyed him a small smile on her lips. “But it takes a lot of skill both from the person forging the blade and the swordsman wielding the blade for it to become permanently infused with haki.”

Zoro nodded, confirming her suspicions.

“Now what is actually strange here is” She took a pause, trying to find the right words. “While haki infused blades are found here and there, haki infused daily objects have never been heard of.” She stopped in her tracks, looking at Zoro, a serious look in her eyes as she finished. “And this town is practically overflowing, with haki infused objects. Knives, rakes, sewing needles, even nails. Name it it’s probably there. It makes no sense really.”

“Is that so?” Luffy said. “I’m not sure I understand, but it sure does sound interesting,” he continued ahead on the path. “I wonder if she’s a good witch or a bad one,” he mused, Robin’s explanation going right over his head.

Zoro and Robin exchanged an amused look. A small sigh escaping their lips as they continued up the mountain.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to scream back at them. “Oi, I see a house! Hurry up you guys!”

As Zorro and Robin rejoined Luffy, they spotted a tall frail looking woman exiting a building. Something was clearly wrong, she had a hurt look in her eyes, her pace slightly off. Before they could stop him. Luffy was already shouting, “Hey! You! Are you the witch?”

The interruption seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she’d been in, blood coming back to her rosy cheeks. A soft smile plastered her lips. “Me?” She asked, amusement clear in her voice. She laughed, a clear cheerful din travelling in the crisp morning air. “Gods, no. That would be my sister.”

“That so? Why is she called a witch?” Luffy asked, no tact as usual.

She chuckled. “I’m not sure” She pondered. “Maybe it’s because of her temper, maybe it’s because of her skills as a blacksmith. Not everyone can see her magic after all.” She added in a sing song. It was clear to Robin that the young woman was the one entertaining the children’s fantasies.

“Is she here? I realllly want to see a witch,” Luffy probed. “I’m Luffy by the way. I’m gonna become the king of the pirates.”

“What?” The young woman laughed, incredulous at the captain’s antics. “I’m Mary.” She answered the introduction. “My sister is in her workshop, I wouldn’t recommend going in there though, she’s in a really bad mood today.”

None of the straw hats heard the second half of the sentence. Following their captain in the workshop instead.

To say the past few months had been hell to you would be the understatement of the century. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream. Your hammer clanked against the block of steel you were working. You were in a really bad mood. Enraged, would be more appropriate. You were aware your strikes were a touch too hard, risking the steel to settle wrong. You didn’t really care; anger clouded your eyes. Tears of fury threatening to blur your sight.

At first it’d been a captain from the navy. He’d offered some kind of contract from the government. You’d politely refused him, you were no government dog. But the bastard had simply turned away and said they’d be back. Then it had been fucking pirates. One after the other, you’d refused them. Ain’t no way you’d serve under thieving assholes either. But then. Then, a fucking admiral had shown up on your door. You scowled as his sleezy smile made its way in your mind. You’d told him no. He’d told you he’d pick you up in a month. Before he’d gone, he’d given you a wanted poster with your face on it. 1 Billion berries, it said. Dead or alive, it said. The threat was clear, refuse the government’s offer again and they were going to make sure you’d regret it. AND THEN. As if that wasn’t enough, a Yonko… A FUCKING YONKO, had strolled in your workshop as soon as the sleezy son of a bitch had left and asked you to join his crew. Admittedly you might have snapped, thrown a few knives and foul words his way. But the red-haired jerk had simply laughed and said he’d be back soon.

The one-month limit was nearing the end. You sighed.

“(Y/n)! Are you listening to me?” Mary, your sister, asked, sitting on a stool at the other end of your workshop.

“What?” you snapped at her not stopping your work. The rhythmic clank of your hammer on steel the only thing keeping you sane.

“I’m just saying, maybe you should reconsider that last offer. He didn’t seem like a bad guy, and you know the next time the Navy docks here, they won’t give you a choice.” She tried to plead with you.

“I’m not going to serve under a fucking Yonko,” your answer was final and she knew it. Still, she flinched at your tone, brows furrowing angrily.

“Why are you always such a bonehead,” she shouted at you. “At this point, your stubbornness is going to be what’s going to kill you. You need to leave this place!”

The next clang of your hammer was definitely too hard, leaving a deep dent in the hot steel. You didn’t stop even though the block was most definitely ruined. You’d have to re-melt it later. It didn’t matter. The outrage you felt at the situation started to border on fury. The air around you felt heavy, red crackling lightning-like filaments joining the threads of black flowing around you and into the steel.

“(Y/n),” You heard Mary plead. You saw her start to sway a little, her face beginning to blanch. “Stop! You know I can’t breathe when you get like that” She tried to calm you.

You couldn’t. The only thing in your head was that poster. 1 Billion berries. Fuck. You almost wished you could hand yourself in for that amount of berries. The sleezy asshole would be back soon. The atmosphere around you crackled more intently. The rage simmering under your skin threatened to boil over.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Then.” You answered, each word punctuated by the clank of your hammer.

Even looking only from the corner of your eye, the hurt was clear on her face. The pace of her footsteps was uneven, threatening to crumble under the oppressiveness of your haki. You sighed, guilt temporarily flooding your heart. You’d apologize later.

Next Chapter →

Masterlist

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[scribbling-dragon]

a gift, from me to you

summary:

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?” “I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.” [Or: Jimmy gets a hat for Tango]

(ao3 link)

(5,157 words)

Jimmy pauses, frowning as the sound of shouting outside only continues to increase in volume. He had hoped that ignoring it for this long would be enough for the simmering flame of a fight to die down. That fight has apparently sparked into a blaze, as a fourth voice joins the fray.

He casts a mournful glance over towards Tango, hoping that his partner and newly promoted second-Sheriff might take initiative and attempt to solve the problem.

“I'm not their beloved Sheriff,” Tango says, not even looking up – he’s not even doing work! He’s tinkering with some little…metal thing, poking and prodding at it.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Tango glances up at him for a moment, eyes alight with amusement as he takes in Jimmy’s appearance. He looks back down a second later, pulling a copper-redstone wire between his claws, before poking around in the metal thing’s insides.

…Maybe it’s better for his safety to go and defuse the argument. Outside. Away from the potentially explosive trinket that Tango has brought to their office this time.

He sighs and stands up, feeling far more tired than he reasonably should be – the sun is only beginning to descend from its zenith and the cooler air should make him feel more energetic.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he fumbles around, reaching for his hat where he’d tossed it off earlier. Only to frown as his hand comes up empty, landing on cool wood instead. He turns his head, already frowning as he tries to figure out which corner of his desk he tossed his hat onto this time.

It’s not there.

He stands there for longer than he’d like to admit to, simply staring at his empty desk – okay, maybe not empty with all the clutter littering his desk. But he can find everything! It’s an organised chaos, and sure, things go missing temporarily but he always manages to find it in the end.

The shouting outside reaches a new peak, and there’s the sound of something heavy being overturned.

“Tango, have you seen my hat?” his voice comes out a little bit panicked, mostly because there seems to be actual destruction going on outside, but also partially because his hat has gone missing. What is a Sheriff without their hat? Not a Sheriff at all, that’s what!

“Mm.” Tango still sounds amused, which isn’t unusual but is maybe a little inappropriate right now. Another thing crashes and he winces. “Why don't you tell me?” Tango’s voice is pleased, something that makes Jimmy’s sixth sense (specifically related to Tango and him doing something that he shouldn’t be) light up, prickling along the back of his neck.

He turns back to face Tango. Tango, who is still tinkering away with his little trinket, poking around in its insides. Tango, who is currently wearing his hat.

“Ah,” he frowns. His hat is a little too big for Tango’s head, and he’s got it tipped too far forward so the brim is drooping over most of his face. “Can I have it?”

Tango tilts his head back, far enough that he looks like he’s going to tip out of his chair. The sounds of destruction outside have died down for now, at least. He’s still anxious to get out there and resolve whatever petty conflict escalated this far.

“Please,” he adds, noticing Tango’s raised eyebrow.

“Of course, dearest.” Tango says, but he doesn’t offer the hat out for him. Nor does he take it off. “Can’t have the darling Sheriff spotted without his hat, hm?”

Tango’s eyes shine teasingly, and Jimmy understands just what Tango is angling for as he steps forward and that pleased grin curls up even further. He sighs, shaking his head in fond amusement as the sounds of argument die down into a more civil discussion. He still needs to figure out what they’ve managed to damage, unfortunately, even if they seem to have resolved the argument by themselves.

“Thank you,” he plucks the hat from Tango’s head, completely missing when tango snakes his arms out, wrapping around his waist and pulling him forward. That, coupled with Tango’s tail wrapping tightly around his legs means he almost falls directly onto his partner.

“They’ve resolved it themselves,” Tango tells him, even as Jimmy rights the hat on his head. Where it belongs. He continues to hold onto him, thumbs resting just above his hip bones, trinket seemingly forgotten about, discarded on Tango’s desk. “There’s no point in running out there and demanding answers, hm?”

“I need to find out what they were tossing about. And why.”

He doesn’t even bother to try and free himself from Tango’s grip. The man is like an overly clingy octopus on some days, reluctant to release Jimmy and let him go about his day without a shadow following his every footstep. He had thought today was one of the days where Tango seemed to forget anyone else existed other than him, but he seemed to just be biding his time until Jimmy got close enough to be captured.

He sighs, though he cannot deny it’s overwhelmingly fond. If any of their friends were here right now, Jimmy is certain they’d be gagging and turning away, as though they were doing something far worse than hugging.

“C’mon, I’ll be back in a second.”

Tango pauses for a moment, then hums once and releases him.

“There, see? Look, I’ll even give this to you to look after until I'm back.”

Before he can think any further on it, before he can think enough to decide it’s actually a bad idea, he takes his hat off again and plonks it onto Tango’s head. He then turns and escapes the office as fast as he can, ignoring Tango’s confused little sound and resisting the urge to look back and see what expression he’s pulling.

He then gives in and sneaks a glance.

Okay, maybe giving the hat back was more for his own benefit than Tango’s. Sue him! He didn’t realise that Tango actually suited a hat, alright?! How could he, when the only time Tango has worn a hat before was in the dark, and Jimmy was far too preoccupied with getting said hat back from his partner’s sticky fingers.

His eyes linger a little longer than appropriate on Tango before he forcefully turns himself around and marches into the street to sort out whatever stupid, petty argument someone’s had today. One that warranted shoving someone’s cart hard enough to topple the whole thing over.

His heart isn’t really in reprimanding them, even if they look like a pair of guilty children than have been found painting the walls. Instead, he’s far more focused on the beginnings of an idea that are coming together in his mind.

===

Scott appreciates the quiet nights. The ones that have plenty of patrons, but none of his more rowdy ones. The ones that like to cause trouble, the ones that come here looking for trouble. Most of them have been identified and given to the staff so they know to be wary when those customers come knocking.

He could just outright ban him – the Sheriff has pleaded with him several times to just ban them rather than forcing him to ride all the way from the mesa because they’ve decided to start a fight and Scott cannot be bothered to sort it himself. But a paying customer is a paying customer, and most of them have the good decency to go outside before they start fighting, greatly reducing his expenses for replacing broken glasses.

Perhaps it was his own fault for even daring to utter ‘quiet’ in the privacy of his own mind. Maybe there’s some god out there that read his thoughts and decided to shove this particular problem in his direction, for him to deal with, just for the gall to enjoy a nice, slow evening.

His first warning of the incoming visitor is when someone hurries into the tavern on near-silent feet, but every single one of his shadier patrons perks up at her entrance.

Scott watches her too, well-aware that there is often some kind of lookout watching for any kind of law enforcement when some kind of deal is going on. He grits his teeth. Which means that someone is doing deals in his tavern without his permission.

He sets the clean glass down on the counter and raises a singular eyebrow at the group highest on his suspect list.

He’s had issues with them in previous months, where they didn’t want to pay the pocket change they owed him because he let them make dealings inside his tavern. He charges a fair price for the business he allows behind closed doors, for someone to even attempt to scam him? They're lucky he didn’t do something worse than what he did.

He jerks his head towards the door, keeping his eye very firmly fixed on the leader of that group. The entire table vanishes, scrambling out the door.

A few other patrons leave as the news about the Sheriff’s impending arrival reaches more and more ears.

He watches them go, more than a little bitter that the Sheriff is chasing his business away. Whatever he wants, it better be good.

He raises an eyebrow when the Sheriff finally enters, clutching something close to his chest as he makes an immediate beeline for him. Several pairs of eyes follow him across the tavern, people beginning to relax once they realise that the Sheriff is here for Scott rather than any of his patrons.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Scott,” the Sheriff greets, not even having the manners to return his cordial greeting. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh?” He blinks as the Sheriff slams whatever he was clutching down onto the bar countertop, spreading the paper out so Scott can see the scribbles on the surface. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in leatherworking.” Slightly ironic, seeing as the Sheriff has a tiny relation to the same animals this leather is taken from. Not that it seems to bother him, what with the leather hat and leather jacket.

“I'm not.”

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners.

“Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.”

“I- what did you call me?”

“You heard me,” Scott grins. “Of course, I'm assuming you're going to pay me for this, yes? My skills with…this are much sought after. I wouldn’t want it to come to light that the darling Sheriff was…extorting his friends, hm?”

“Of course I’ll pay you. Name your price.”

“He really does have you wrapped around his finger. You, my dear Sheriff, are an absolute sucker.”

The Sheriff ignores him. A valiant effort. “When will it be ready for me to pick up?”

“Give me a week.” He holds his hand out, “Half of the payment now, and half then. Have we got a deal?” He wiggles his fingers teasingly, waiting for the Sheriff to take his hand and seal the deal. He gets a sour look instead. Ah, too smart for those tricks, it seems. He lowers his hand again, only mildly disappointed.

“How much do I owe you?”

===

“You're acting weird.”

“What?” Jimmy says, in a weird, not at all normal voice. “No I'm not!”

Tango stops and stares at him. He hopes his face correctly conveys enough of the what the hell and you're joking, right? sentiment he was going for. Jimmy winces and looks guilty, so he’ll call that a mission success.

“Did you break something?” he asks. Maybe Jimmy went poking around in his workshop again and found something – it wouldn’t be the first time that he’s accidentally broken one of Tango’s projects, and it probably won’t be the last time.

He can’t find it in himself to care when Jimmy does break some of his inventions, either, as he can just piece them back together. What’s the point in making something that he wouldn’t be able to fix if it broke? Plus, most of them are hastily cobbled together from scraps when the inspiration struck him, and then promptly abandoned.

“Ah, no I didn’t break anything.” Jimmy shakes his head hard enough that Tango momentarily worries that it’s going to unscrew itself and fly away. It doesn’t, thankfully. “I just…have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

He loves surprises. Especially ones that he gets to find out immediately – the suspense kills him every single time, meaning if he has to wait for longer than a few hours, maybe a day at most, to find out what it is, he might just combust. Sometimes literally.

“Yes,” Jimmy laughs, his eyes squinting shut. Tango grins up at him, not caring that Jimmy’s giggling at his enthusiasm, because the laugh isn’t mean, just excited and endeared. “It’s at home.”

“And what is it that you’ve gotten me?”

“You have to wait,” Jimmy pushes at his shoulder. “That’s the point of a surprise.”

“But you could just tell me now, couldn’t you?” Tango teases. “I'm about to find out in a second, what’s the point of waiting – I’ll have the same reaction all over again when you show it to me, I promise.”

“Just go look,” Jimmy says with a laugh, pushing him through their front door.

“Alright, alright…” he stops. And he stares. And stares…and stares a little more. “Huh.” Is what he manages to say when everything seems to have resettled in his mind, clicking mostly back into the right places.

“Do you not like it? It’s fine if you don't, I just thought that-”

“Shut up,” Tango tells him, and then decides that’s not enough and kisses him instead. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls back. He would normally linger in a moment like that for longer, but his hands are itching to pick the hat up and run his hands over the leather.

“I love it,” he tells Jimmy, when the hat is comfortably resting on his head. It has little leather dangling bits around the brim which sway back and forth when he moves. He wobbles his head, just to make them swish. “I love you.”

“Ah, Tango!” Jimmy covers his face with his hands. “Gods, warn a guy before you say something like that next time?”

“But you go so red every time I do! How can I resist!”

He wobbles his head again, just to watch the tassels swing. Damn. He can see why Jimmy likes his hat, this thing makes him feel important.

===

Time is the best solution for any malady, just…leave something alone for long enough and everything should sort itself out all nice.

So why is it that he still dreads the flight up to Stratos? It’s a short flight, one that barely takes a few seconds, one that starts in the village flourishing in the shadow of the citadel above, and ends with his hooves touching down on the grass outlining the main pathways of the island.

The gold of the citadel is blindingly bright this early in the morning, everything turning molten in the sunlight. The quartz reflects the light equally bright, and it forces him to squint his eyes against the light.

He’s going to blame his shoddy landing on his half-closed eyes, attempting to not blind himself this meeting. He stumbles, the tip of on hoof catching on the very edge of the island and sending him forward, grasping for his balance again. Tango catches his elbow and pulls him back upright, thankfully before he can make even more of a fool of himself and do something stupid like fall on his face, though it’s not done without a snicker.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango looks away, tilting his new hat down over his face so Jimmy can’t see it as well. He can still see well enough to spot the barely repressed grin, even as the leather tassels drift about his face and cast an even deeper shadow. His ears flick a few times as the leather strips bump into them, brushing over the short fur, Tango obviously still unused to wearing the hat and all the accessories that come with it. “I'm not laughing. Promise.”

“I can see you grinning.”

Tango’s apology would have been far more convincing if he couldn’t see the way Tango’s ears continue to tremble, even after the leather strips stop irritating them, shaking with the repressed giggles that Tango is biting back.

“No, you can’t.” Tango turns his face even further away, warm hand slipping away from Jimmy’s elbow as he tugs his hat down, lower over his face. His tail continues to flick back and forth, betraying his continued amusement at Jimmy’s expense, flames sputtering in time with his silent laughs.

“It’s really not that funny,” he complains. And maybe he’s whining a little bit, but it makes Tango turn back to him, amused gleam continuing to shine in his eyes. “I don't make fun of you for hiding from the rain!”

“You don't, you don't,” Tango huffs out a laugh, then turns to properly face him once more. “C’mon, best we get this over with, yeah?”

Jimmy clicks his tongue at Tango’s blatant dislike for Joel. “We’re allies now,” he reminds. It’s a tentative alliance, for sure, but it’s an alliance nonetheless. He doesn’t have many of those, and having a god (no matter how egotistical that god is) on his side – their side – is comforting. Even if it means getting up at the worst possible times because the god seems to rise with the goddamn sun.

He pulls Tango back when he goes to walk away, ignoring the confused, inquisitive noise that Tango makes when he pulls him around to look at his face.

He stares at Tango for several long moments, hand resting on the juncture between Tango’s shoulder and neck. He brushes his hand up and adjusts Tango’s hat, so it’s not covering his face so much anymore.

He can’t help but linger for a moment, the back of his hand grazing against Tango’s cheek. “There,” he pats Tango’s cheek, “much better like that. Now,” he takes the lead, “remember to be polite.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?” Tango scoffs a laugh, turning to chase after him. Jimmy’s face still feels a little warm from staring longingly into Tango’s eyes for several long moments just seconds ago. And…maybe Tango’s a little right, yeah, maybe most of their trade agreements and whatnot are spent trying to figure out what petty jab to use next, and when to use it for maximum effect.

Tango’s told him several times that he should be the bigger person and not to return the jabs, that only encourages him! But Jimmy has also watched Tango, the biggest advocator for maintaining a professional persona while working and also the biggest hypocrite he knows, make several rude and aggressive gestures at Joel’s back the moment the god turns away.

…He’s beginning to see why most of the times he managed to arrest Tango was after he had been ganged up on by other bandits.

“And being allies,” he continues, ignoring Tango. “Means that we need to be courteous.”

“He’s not here yet,” Tango says. “And just you wait, you’ll be eating your words the moment ‘toy’ drops out of his mouth.”

Jimmy doesn’t have a responding argument for that. Mostly because Tango is right and also because they’ve just arrived at the arranged meeting spot. The arranged meeting spot where Joel is already present and ready, probably preparing to shame them for being late by three seconds, or something equally stupid.

And despite the stupidly early hour, Joel is lounging casually and drinking something from a crudely made mug. It’s a far cry from the things Joel makes for himself, let alone deems worthy enough to be used by his holier than thou hands.

The words trip out of his mouth before he can even process anything else about their surroundings: “Did you sit on that mug halfway through making it?” The mug really does look quite squashed, wonky, and with a far too large handle. The handle is larger than the rest of the mug. “Why’d you still stick it in the kiln looking like that?”

It’s meant as an insult. A small thing designed to irritate the god and make him eager to get them out of Stratos as soon as possible. A short meeting with the god is the most desirable kind.

What he didn’t account for, however, is the small child sat just beside Joel. Though, instead of sitting in a chair, he’s seated on the lush grass. Hermes pauses what he was doing – some kind of drawing in a little sketchbook, so similar to the one that Joel carries around with him – to look up.

“Does my mug…look like someone sat on it?”

Shit.

“Not at all.” Joel stares at him, but even the unrelenting gaze promising a slow and painful death doesn’t manage to pull Jimmy’s eyes away from the child’s face, and how Hermes looks as though he might burst into tears at any second.

Shit.

He’s floundering, lost amongst a sea of words and grasping for literally anything that might save him from his fast-approaching death. One that Joel is already constructing in his mind’s eye, raising the executioner’s axe in preparation for the first tears being shed.

“Oh no, no,” his saviour is not some half-baked excuse and apology rolled into one that he managed to come up with to smooth ruffled feathers and assure the child of his incredible pottery skills. Instead, his saviour comes in the form of his wonderful, fantastic and stunning partner stepping up – quite literally.

He crosses the grass in a few strides, shawl flapping around him and flames curling with anxiety. He crouches down beside Hermes, not quite touching the demigod child, but his hands remain hovering over the child’s arms.

“What the Sheriff meant to say,” Jimmy winces, “is that your mug is wonderfully unique! I’ve never before seen such use of angles and lines, and the colours too…”

Tango’s voice trails off, though his mouth continues moving, without words. It takes Jimmy a few moments to process that it is his hearing that has failed him, not that Tango’s silver tongue has given up and left him fumbling for more words to continue comforting the child in front of them.

All that filters through his head is muffled, as though he has dunked his head underwater as everyone else continues to talk around him.

He watches as Hermes brightens beneath Tango’s praise, his uncertain frown transforming into a beaming grin as he begins gesturing wildly, hands flying all over the place. His drawings are abandoned, seemingly forgotten, as he focuses instead on speaking with Tango.

And the latter nods along attentively. If Jimmy’s ears were working properly he’s certain he would hear the way Tango normally hums along when he’s listening to something – he can almost hear the sound, can feel the vibration of it within his own chest, familiar and comforting in its cadence – and he’d be able to hear Tango asking questions, keeping the child engaged and distracted from Jimmy’s earlier shoving-his-foot-in-his-mouth moment.

“Hm,” he tries not to startle at the sudden return of his hearing and the even more sudden appearance of Joel beside him. He didn’t even see the man stand up, let alone make his way over here – get it together Jimmy! Tango might look incredibly endearing and loveable right now, but if this was any other occasion such distraction could be fatal! …Oh, who was he kidding. If this was a lethal situation and Tango revealed that he was good with kids, Jimmy would be a dead man.

“I wouldn’t have thought Tango was so good with children.” Joel echoes his own thoughts exactly. “Did you know this?”

“…No?”

Joel side-eyes him. “You don't sound very certain of yourself.”

Well, not all of us are self-assured, egotistical maniacs.

“Well, I've never seen him interact with children before,” Jimmy says, incredibly diplomatic compared to his original thoughts. “And, apparently,” he gestures at the scene in front of them helplessly, unable to communicate further.

Tango’s gone from kneeling in front of Hermes to sitting beside him, watching as the child flips through his sketchbook and narrates every brushstroke to him.

“Hm.” Joel responds.

It’s an unusually concise response from the god, but he doesn’t have much to say either today, stunned to silence by Tango’s apparent ability to comfort and then entertain a child for longer than five minutes. He’d thought Tango’s skill with children extended to his abilities to deal with babies – non-existent.

“He’s good with kids,” Joel says. “I’ll give him that…say, how much d’you think he’d charge for a babysitting service?”

“You're not paying my partner to babysit your kid. He has more important things to be doing.”

“Haha, I'm sure he does.”

“Don't be disgusting, Hermes is right there.” Joel doesn’t flinch as Jimmy jabs him in the side, only giving him an unimpressed look that just says: you think that would hurt me, mere mortal? Or something equally pretentious.

“I was talking about the obvious signature of getting promoted,” Joel side-eyes him again- seriously, would it kill him to actually look at Jimmy properly for once! “What were you talking about?” He has a grin on his face that Jimmy knows means Joel knows exactly what it is that he was implying, and Joel knows that Jimmy knows this.

He, very maturely, does not rise to the bait.

“You mean the hat.”

“It’s an interesting little thing. You commission Scott to do it?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “How could you tell?”

“A guess.” Joel glances over at him from the corner of his eye. “Mostly because I know you're an absolute sucker for him and would settle for nothing but the best.”

“I am not a sucker for him-”

“Oh, look,” Joel interrupts him. “He’s letting Hermes try the hat on.”

What?

He looks over to the scene he’d momentarily dismissed in order to argue with Joel properly, pausing as he takes it in. He watches Tango laugh when the hat slips over Hermes’ face and makes it disappear completely.

His eyes go all squinty as he laughs, the creases around his eyes only increasing as Hermes lifts the hat to glare at him from beneath it, having to brush aside the leather tassels to actually see him.

It’s an unfairly attractive quality of Tango that Jimmy hadn’t even realised existed until a few minutes ago.

It distracts him throughout the rest of the meeting, especially when Tango chooses to remain sitting on the ground and entertain Hermes for the duration of his and Joel’s discussion over the gunpowder prices, during which Jimmy has to explain why his prices are higher than the unethical creeper farms found on the edges of the mesa – most of which he's working on wiping out.

A few have inevitably fallen through the cracks, but he makes Joel, unwillingly, hand over the details of their locations so he can go hunt them down when he has the chance.

It's a relief, really, to have someone that entertains Hermes throughout the meeting. Where he would normally be sat on Joel’s knee or tugging at his toga for some kind of attention, now he’s content and docile, happy to sketch Tango in that wobbly and rather ugly way that only a child can achieve.

Tango still coos over the drawings Hermes shows him, acting as though he’s been gifted the most precious treasure when Hermes offers out one of said drawings at the end of the meeting, half-hiding behind Joel’s leg as he does so.

It’s only then that Tango manages to reclaim his hat from the child, settling it comfortably back on his head.

“So,” Jimmy says as they touch down into the village below, slowly making their way back to the village stables to collect their horses. “Good with kids?”

“I'm really not,” Tango scoffs. “What, you think I’d tell him to just shove off? You almost made the kid cry, dearest.”

“I didn’t think you’d sit and let him draw you.”

“The kid’s a budding artist,” Tango shrugs. “Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be incredibly famous and this drawing will be worth thousands.” He waves the small piece of paper around. The sketch on it is only recognisable as Tango because of the cat-like ears and the flame-tipped tail. “See, he’s signed it and everything.”

“That is barely legible as his name.” Jimmy says, though he does so with a smile.

“Uh-huh, alright, you wanna talk about you and Joel then? I thought you hated the guy but I look up and you two are laughing together?”

“I don't hate him, I just have a healthy dislike for him,” Jimmy protests. “I wouldn’t ally myself with someone I actively hate! And anyway, I was laughing at him not with him.”

“Sure, sure,” Tango nods along, speaking in a way that means he’s not at all convinced. “Only, I could’ve sworn you two looked like you were friends?”

“We’re not friends!” Jimmy’s protest this time is much louder, gaining the disapproving looks of many nearby villagers. He clamps his mouth shut, ears going hot with embarrassment. “I still don't like him.”

“Okay, alright,” Tango laughs. At his expense! Laughs at his suffering! “Not friends, got it.”

He’s still smiling like he knows something Jimmy doesn’t, though.

Most unfortunate of all is the look Tango sends him a moment later, grin flashing amongst the dark shadow of his hat over his face, eyes glinting dangerously; teasingly.

===

“It’s so stupid,” he bemoans, possibly for the third time, maybe the fourth. He hasn’t really been paying attention to how many times he’s complained, but it’s a few. More than one, at least.

“Uh-huh,” Scott couldn’t sound less interested if he tried. As it is, the tavern is almost completely dark around the two of them – the only two people left inside the building. Correction: only awake and mostly sober people left inside the building. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“And it’s your fault,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Scott’s back. He’s cleaning his glasses – all the man does is clean the glasses behind the bar, it’s like he has nothing better to do!

“My fault?” Scott turns around, cloth and glass still held in his hands. “How is it my fault? I made it all to your specifications, Sheriff. If anything, it’s your fault that Red looks so good in that hat.”

“Noo,” he slowly sinks down to the counter, resting his forehead against the cool wood.

“Shut up.”

[squeiky]

Go tired of seeing "old hedgehog" designs of sonic and shadow with them just having greyed out quills and decided to do something about it

So yeah qpr sonadow (yeah shadow is 50+ fucking finally. Im considering giving him a cane. An asthetic or an actual one idk. Maybe both?)

Sonic grew his quills out (wanted a kind of longhair rockstar kinda hair thing idk if i achiebed i though. Also still unsure on what he'd wear so i just slapped on his sa2 beach costume and added sandals (and possibly socks).

(Oh and there a scar from the Mephiles blast on his stomach- as well as top surgery scars because of course he had top surgery its sonic)

(Oh and also the "old lady swagger" sonic is just him crossdessing/going lady mode because he always rocks the look )

Shadow styled/shortend his quills and i put him in a nice black collared sweater. He wears glasses because my guy has eye problems

(Btw. Im horrible at telling ppls ages so if they dont feel old then idk what to tell you guys i have no idea what aging is at this point)

Then, instead of simply making old yaoi i ended up getting obbessed (and happy) and started making everyone old

So next up was amy and Blaze. (Silver is here too)

I think theyre a little bit on the younger side of the old yaoi? I did consider the fact that some people age differently (some look older whilst others look younger) so Amy and Silver got the more "youthful-ish" complexion whilst Blaze and Espio got the more older one.

Thoughhh im still working on their design. I can always make older old lady Amy (now that i think about it i should 100% make Amy a granny looking buff woman because i feel like thats beautiful)

Either way amy and Blaze kept their uh.. "hair" short. Amy still wears supergirly clothes and Blaze wears more masculine type clothes nothing else.

Next is espilver

You cant sue me for making Silver a short king menace to society.

Not really much on design so far other than Silver is way more plump (pearshaped) now because life got better, and Espio is taller because what is he if not a tree?

Ask them how they met? It was at bowling. Why bowling? Its because thats less weird then "was investigating the multiple crimes husbando commited and ended up getting said yet-to-be husbando arrested, but after he got out we totally fucked"

Yeah

Oh, and because i couldnt choose, Espio is trans AND intersex! Yeah!

Also Amy is silvers ex (Silver has like.. 2 exes... Possibly more?)

And then theres everyone else who arent a "ship" persay:

So i call this the moreso young adult group with Tails, Charmy, Ray and Cream.

Tails (in college) and Charmy (not in college) obviously hang out and play videogames.

Cream, because when she was little she didnt get invited to fight deadlt monsters, grew up, and decided shes going to fight deadlt monsters. So i tried to make her a cool suit but idk.. it needs reworking cause the whole "secret agent" vibe works! But not the way i like.

Rouge is forever foxynand will continue to be the most attractive woman on planet earth no matter what age. Shes also still a meance to socitey and we will forever love the jewel thief (old) woman.

Knuckles doesnt cut his quills so those shits are LONG hes also old as well but idk what he'd wear

And yes Metal (also Chaos) is here too. Metal is a bit rusty (literally) but overall well kept and fancy. I think eggman would be dead by now, so i gave it a crown on its ears to symbolize how it took over i guess.

OKAY SHIPKIDS:

Blaze x Amy ( bio kid): Flare (was thinking "Spark" because of the love idea but idk yet)

Espio x Silver (bio-kid): Greybell

And then heres the fun part:

So Sonic and Shadow dont function like the others here, in that- while saving the world and whatnot, every so often they'd either find a kid following them (similarly to Amy and Tails back in the days) or save a kid during their whole adventure.

The first time this happened was just Luca (a black jaguar) who followed Sonic during one his little solo adventures and Sonic was like "do you have parents i can take u back too" and she was like "nah" so of course, after seriously looking for her parents through ppl with database accesses like tails and rouge, he was like "u wanna stay with me?" And Luca was like "YEAH!"

And then Sonic called Shadow like "Shadow do u want kids" and which he replied "what?" And then suddenly they adopted Luca. This is how it began.

Eventually, as one grew up, theyd find another, and then another and then well now they have like 11 kids in total.

Now, after ALL of this, they took a break and after that years worth of a break were like "wanna make a kid? Like for the challenge of having to that from scratch"

And sonic was like "what?"

So they hit up the labs and made a bio kid who is 2 months old and is the most hectic fucking thing theyve ever had to deal with so thanks for the prior 10 experinces (alas they do not compare to the mega menace)

[thetargaryenbride]

Nail To The Coffin - Chapter 8

Warnings: curse words, violence, blood, gore, extreme bullying, attempt at seggsual harassment (briefly mentioned)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 6315

A.N: So, Season 1 is oficially a WRAP! Thanks for everyone who are sticking with this story. Love you!   🖤 🥀 

As always, please do make me know if I’ve written the characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you. Enjoy  🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 7 || Season 2, Chapter 1

“Y/N?”

Someone was calling you.

“Y/N? Wake up. Y/N, wake up! Please!”

You felt something akin to a touch make contact with your arm. Your eyes fluttered open, vision still blurry but slowly clearing up. You tried to focus and move your head in order to get a better look. There was no one but you could feel a presence right there next to you. And the voice sounded very familiar.

“El?”

“Yes… Listen, your mom and Hopper are coming for you. If you find Will, stay with him. They are coming for you!” was the last thing you heard before her voice and touch faded away. For a moment there you thought you had simply imagined it or that it was a dream.

Then your senses began returning to you bit by bit, accompanied by a splitting headache. Suddenly, your body lurched. You were barely able to get on your knees before you threw up. What in the world was that thing and what did it spray in your face? More moldy particles or something? You coughed and sputtered as you tried getting up on your feet.

“Whoa,” you groaned as your hand flew to grasp at your head. The world was a carousel right now. “Fuck,” you cursed breathily as you tried taking a few steps forward, stumbling and colliding with the iron fence, hands grabbing the metal rods tightly as you tried to keep yourself upright. You squeezed your eyes shut and slapped your cheek a couple of times. How were you supposed to get to Will in this drowsy state? Your whole body was cold and damp and shivering by now. You had no idea where this dampness came from in this dimension but it was unsettling and uncomfortable.

You waited a couple more minutes, the spinning decreasing. The headache was persistent but that didn’t matter as long as you were able to walk in a straight line.

Your mother was coming. And Hopper was coming with her. He had made it out of the lab after all and was safe. If he and your mother teamed up, then you were sure you would make it out of here. Those two were some of the most reliable, smart and resourceful people you had the blessing to know. They just got things done. Which meant you didn’t have to stress over thinking a way to escape anymore. You didn’t have to wonder how you’d evade the monster while running away with Will. All you had to do was stay hidden until they came. They were going to storm this place guns blazing and in the meantime, you were going to go to Castle Byers and stay by Will’s side.

“We have to go back to the station,” muttered Nancy after long silence had engulfed her and Jonathan as the two sat side by side.

“What?”

“Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait, just like Y/N did… That thing is still there… And we can’t just sit here and let it get them all. We can’t.”

“You still want to do our part of the plan?” he asked softly. “Lure it out and trap it.”

“Yes… I wanna finish what we started,” she said with confidence. “I want to kill it.”  

Will was gone. Will was gone. Will was GONE.

You had gone to the castle immediately after your swirling vision had gotten better. But what you had found was a destroyed building and pieces of wood, books, and blankets lying around, trashed.

You almost lost it right there and then, at first thinking that the monster had devoured your brother. But then you noticed that there was no blood, no torn pieces of clothing, and no bones. So maybe the monster hadn’t eaten your brother. Maybe it had… moved him elsewhere. That, of course, didn’t mean that the beast wasn’t going to eat your brother. Oh, it definitely was going to. It was just a matter of time.

This time you really were going to get in a car and go to the lab. You didn’t know if Nancy and Jonathan would still continue with the original plan but now you knew Hopper and your mom were coming for you and the only place they could enter this dimension through was the lab. So you would meet them there and the three of you would have bigger chances at finding Will and taking down the monster. 

And then you were running once again. At this point, you wondered how your body managed to hold up and not collapse in utter exhaustion. You were running on pure spite.

What you didn’t expect to hear once you reached your house was the sound of growling and screeching, indicating that the monster was nearby. You stormed inside, eyes widening when they landed on the huge gate on the ceiling. You could hear what was happening on the other side although it kind of sounded a bit muffled as if coming from underwater but after some time it began clearing up.

You could hear what sounded like Nancy, Jonathan and… Steve? They were yelling something at one another while trying to chase and trap the monster. So they had decided to go with the original plan after all and had somehow gotten Steve mixed in with this. That was good. Now you had three people in your world and soon to be three people in this dimension as well. Two good teams like that were bound to handle one monster, right?

You took the shotgun and pointed it at the portal, preparing to shoot if the monster somehow managed to escape your friends’ traps and come running back here.

Unfortunately, it did.

It slithered disgustingly through the gate not long after you had thought about it. The moment you saw it coming out of the hole, you didn’t hesitate to shoot. You shot at it again and again and again, noticing it had major open wounds caused by fire. You’ve never felt so satisfied in your life than right now when you witnessed bullet after bullet pierce and embed into its burned flesh. You supposed that it probably wasn’t enough to kill it. But damn it, you enjoyed the fact that at least it hurt it.

Your hope about the outcome of this situation was quickly squished when you got tackled on the ground.

It roared at you, in what you assumed was anger and pain, head spreading open revealing multiple small, but sharp, teeth. The stench of its breath was disgusting, so was the saliva that landed on your face. You were too terrified to let out a sound besides the low grunting that came from deep within your throat as you used all of your strength to fight off the beast. 

It slashed at you, claws sinking into your left upper arm, creating large deep gashes. You screamed in pain as your body trashed and arched underneath the monster, trying to escape from the painful invasion. Suddenly, your ears began ringing and you found it hard to breathe as you were taken back to the incident that had occurred two months ago. It felt as if you were reliving the same thing again. Monsters holding you down, stabbing your arm with a knife as you struggled under them fruitlessly.

But this time you were really going to die.

You were really going to die if you didn’t do something.

Anything!

The adrenaline coursing through your body was a blessing right now. It allowed you to ignore the pain and gather enough strength in order to grab the hunter knife from its holster. With a shout, you stabbed the monster right in the open head, twice. It screeched in pain and released you, stumbling back as its head-mouth closed. Its body shuddered, hands twisting and skewering as it tried to fight off the pain before it whizzed past you, running away.

“Yeah, you better run… Bet you didn’t see that comin’,” you drawled, out of breath, and allowed a small triumphant smile to grace your lips. You and your friends had done quite a number on the alien. You had hurt it so much that it chose to run away and lick its wounds. Speaking of wounds, the one it had caused on your arm was sending stabbing shots of pain through your body and blood was sipping through it rapidly, making you feel dizzy and sluggish. You supposed you had to be grateful it hadn’t torn off your limb.

You arched your head to look at the still-open gate and tried to slowly get on your knees. In your haze, you forgot that your left arm was severely hurt and tried to use it as support in order to get up, which caused you to tumble back down on the floor. The amount of searing pain that shot through your body was indescribable. Your body spasmed as your mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as you breathed heavily through your nose. When you opened them again, they widened in shock when they saw the gate closing rapidly.

“No, no, no, no,” you whimpered as you tried getting up again, this time clutching your left arm to your body and using your right one as support. But by the time you got on your knees and were ready to stand up, you were too late and the gate had shut. 

Whatever little strength you had in your body was completely washed away and you fell on your butt, letting out a sigh of defeat. Tears rolled down your cheeks from all the stress, fear, frustration, and pain as you tried to bite down sobs and whimpers. You were so useless. You hadn’t been able to do one thing to help your brother and now you would be a burden to your mom and Hopper. You really couldn’t win, could you?

You painfully dragged yourself to the sofa and leaned your back on it, head lulling to your chest as your body slumped against the furniture and you began feeling your consciousness slip away for the second time today. 

“Hey, kid. You working late today,” greeted Hopper as he plopped down on a seat at the bar and you gave him a tired nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be closing today. What about you, old man? Night shift?” he hummed and you busied yourself with polishing a glass before placing it on the counter and filling it with juice. 

“Seriously? Juice?” he deadpanned and you snorted.

“You need something else in your stomach than just coffee, you know? And don’t try to convince me that you drink other things because every time I see you, you’re either drinking alcohol or coffee and that’s not ok. And don’t even let me get started on the food,” you huffed and he rolled his eyes but accepted the glass of juice either way.

“Can I get the usual,” he ordered the usual food he’d take for night patrol shifts, leaving money on the counter, and you nodded as you went to prepare it.

“Can I ask you something?” you pursed your lips as you placed the freshly made, neatly wrapped sandwiches on the counter and took out a bag in order to put them inside.

“Shoot.”

“I hate to ask but… My car is at the service. I don’t know what happened to it yesterday. It just crashed. So I’m without a car for now and my brother is working late today too so he won’t be able to pick me up-“

“You want me to come pick you up and bring you home?” he interrupted and you nodded.

“I don’t want to bother you, especially during work but-“

“It’s ok, kid. I’ll come.”

In moments like this, you wished that Hopper was your actual father. The things Lonnie had done for you couldn’t even compare to the things Hopper had done for you over the years, even if they weren’t a lot.

You’ve never had a father.

You’ve simply had a horrid man living under your roof rent-free.

Your mind had been preoccupied with such thoughts for the rest of your shift and before you knew it, it was time for you to close the diner.

You let out a tired sigh as you changed out of the tight uniform and into your frilly summer dress with floral patterns that your mom had gifted you. You were grateful that there wasn’t much to clean today. There were only two or three tables that you wanted to sweep the crumbs off of so you could avoid attracting roaches and then you would be out of the diner in a heartbeat, waiting for Hopper to come and take you home so you could rest your aching muscles.

Just as you were about to go behind the bar and grab a rag and cleaning product, you heard the door open and you turned to look at the intruder.

“Excuse me but we’ve closed alrea-“ the words got caught in your throat as you saw four familiar boys your age – students at Hawkins High who had bullied you and your brother a couple of years ago and who you had humiliated and put in their place a couple of times until they finally left you and Jonathan alone. Nathaniel Hale – now a bulky kid who was part of the wrestling team – was the same boy whose mother had threatened to send you to Juvie almost four years ago. The only time you’ve had any kind of contact with these boys was when you’d pass them by in the hallways at school and try to ignore their spiteful glares.

“You in a hurry?” asked one, whose name you remembered to be Chris, as he pulled down the blinds and locked the door.

You gulped as they began approaching you menacingly.

“What do you want?” you grit out and Nathaniel chuckled once he came to stand in front of you.

“Payback.”

There was stillness surrounding all of you before you bolted away, hoping to hide behind the bar and grab something that could be of use to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have turned your back on them because one grabbed you by the hair and pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your torso, trying to keep you at bay. You struggled against him, lifting a leg in order to kick another who was coming towards you. He groaned in pain when you got him in the face and stumbled back.

“Bitch,” growled Nathaniel as he harshly released you from the hold he had on you, the force making you fall on the ground. He walked closer to you and you didn’t hesitate to kick him in the groin. He doubled over in pain and you took that as an advantage to get up and knee him in the stomach, making him fall against a table. Before you had the time to celebrate your victory you felt arms around your neck as someone put you in a headlock. You coughed as you felt him slowly shutting off your air supply and quickly tried to grab his head with your hands, clawing at him. He couldn’t exactly escape this if he wanted to keep you in a headlock which allowed you to dig your thumbs into his sockets. He let out a pained cry as he let go and went to rub his sore eyes. You hit him right in the throat once you got the opportunity and he began choking.

But you weren’t fast enough to evade the hit Nathaniel delivered to your head. It was so powerful it made your world spin as you toppled onto the ground. You tried shaking off the dizziness but by the time you did, he was already straddling you.

“What, you thought we’d just forget about all the times you’ve humiliated us?” he asked as he punched you over and over again.

“You were the ones who started it. I was just defending myself and my brother,” you sputtered and he let out an annoyed huff before bending and painfully grabbing your chin.

“You see, losers like you and your brother are simply bound to be treated like that. It’s a normal thing, you know? It’s how the world works. You decided to fight against that when you had no right to do it and now you’re getting punished for it. See?” he grit out mockingly and you could only glare.

“Hey, Brent, bring the knife,” commanded Chris who had joined Nathaniel on the ground, sitting by your side with bent leg and an arm propped on it as he leisurely watched the whole thing unfold. Your head moved frantically as you tried to get a better look at what was going on. You managed to see Brent’s feet come to stand next to you and saw him pass a knife to Nathaniel who got off you and knelt by your left instead.

You immediately tried getting up, wishing to somehow make your escape, but Chris’ hand was quick to grab you by the throat and shove you back on the ground harshly, causing you to hit the back of your head against the tiles. He applied enough pressure to keep you down and make it hurt without actually choking the air out of you. Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s hand had flown to your stomach as he too pressed hard against it in order to keep you down.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, where do you think you’re going?” he mocked as he flipped the knife open and pressed it against your cheek. “I’m still wondering what to do with you. Like, should I maybe cut off a finger and send it to your brother as a gift?” he tilted his head as he slowly dragged the knife, making a clean cut that wasn’t deep but it still stung like hell, especially because your face was already mauled enough by his previous punching session.

“She’s an artist, man. Her hands are her most prized thing,” piped in the guy you had hit in the throat.

“That’s right!” gasped Nathaniel in realization. “Gabriel here, coming with the smart ideas,” he chuckled before he moved away from your face and in a flash stabbed your right hand with the knife, making you scream.

“Hey, man, let me have a go. This bitch almost made me choke to death,” rasped Gabriel as he rubbed at his sore throat and his friend nodded before he sharply pulled the knife out of your hand and gave it to the other one who eagerly took it. “You know, the old hag who runs this place is very naïve and stupid. She should’ve put cameras,” barked out the boy before bringing the knife down on your upper left arm, burying it painfully in your flesh and slowly dragging it downwards, making you scream and trash from the immense pain. You could literally feel the metal reach the bone and tear at your meat.

“You know,” drawled Nathaniel. “We’re seventeen now. We’re not kids anymore. We can find other ways to give you payback.”

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand slide over your inner thigh, fingers squeezing and digging painfully, leaving trails of bruises, before the hand went under your dress and rubbed against your crotch. Gabriel let out a boisterous laugh at your stunned, fearful expression while he pulled out the knife and left it on the ground, then rushed to grasp the spaghetti strap of your dress, harshly pulling it down and proceeding to tear the fabric of the garment.

“No! Please, no! Don’t!” you screeched and as if on cue, the diner’s door burst open, causing the boys to cease everything they were doing, entering a frozen state of shock as they looked at the intruder.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” yelled Hopper as his eyes tried to take in the sight in front of him. He had heard a commotion from the inside after getting out of his car and had run to the door only to find it locked. When he heard you screaming, he didn’t hesitate to use his strength to open it. He had definitely not expected to see you pinned down by four boys, bloody and beaten with a semi-torn dress and a hand shoved underneath it, doing god knows what.

He saw red.

First, he grabbed the guy who held your throat, hauling him up on his feet before delivering a punch that sent him unconscious on the floor. The other three snapped out of their stupor and scrambled to get up and make their escape but Hopper got them one by one, sending punch after punch and knocking them out. He had saved the one with the hand under your dress for last, utterly mauling the boy before finally sending him to sleep.

He rushed to kneel by your side when he finished with them, seeing you struggle to get up.

“T-they tried to-“ you hiccupped and he quickly brought you in for a hug.

“It’s ok, baby girl. You’re ok. I got you,” he spoke softly as he held you, feeling how much you shook as you clung to him and sobbed. He tried to calm down his raggedy panicked breathing as he eyed the four barely conscious boys and his hold on you tightened protectively.

“No one’s gonna hurt you now. I’m here.”     

“Kid, can you hear me? C’mon, open your eyes,” you heard a familiar voice and willed yourself to obey, eyes fluttering open.

“That’s right, sweetie! Just like that!”

“Mom? Old man?” you muttered when your vision finally focused and you saw the two of them crouched right in front of you. They let out relived exhales and smiles as they stared at you, Joyce caressing your face as she tried to keep herself from sobbing.

When she and Hopper had found you slumped against the sofa with a bloody and mauled arm, they had jumped to the worst possible conclusion. But then they felt your pulse and hope returned before they tried waking you up.

“Do you think you can stand, baby? We can’t leave you here. The monster might come back,” your mom told you with wobbly voice and you nodded as you tried pushing yourself up but Hopper told you to sit on the sofa first and you obliged. He snatched your bag and began rummaging through it, finding some bandages you had packed just in case. He sat by your side and inspected the wound, nose scrunching up at your condition. The gashes were too big and deep and had to be cleaned with water. He couldn’t pour alcohol on such an open wound so he went straight for bandaging it in order to prevent more of the toxic particles from entering it. It seemed that they have done enough damage already because the wound was starting to swell and he suspected that an infection was settling in. They had to be quick with their journey for both your and Will’s safety. You hissed and whimpered when he tied the bandages around your limb and Joyce’s eyes welled with tears as she held your hand and whispered sweet nothings in order to keep you calm and grounded. It broke her heart seeing her precious baby suffer like this but she also felt proud of how brave you were being.

Once Hopper finished patching you up as best as he could in such a situation, he and Joyce were quick to grab your torso, help haul you up and keep you upright.

“You have enough strength to hold onto me, kid?” asked Hopper and you nodded. He then picked you in his arms, adjusting his hold on the weapon so he could still be able to freely point it at a target if need be.

“Hold on tight, ok sweetie? We’ll find Will as fast as we can and bring you to the hospital,” your mother pushed your damp hair away from your face and you nodded as you let your head rest on Hopper’s shoulder.  

“Let’s get this over with,” he said confidently and Joyce nodded as the three of you headed further into the town in hope of finding Will.

The whole time you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

But even subconsciously you still held onto the one person in your life who had saved your ass too many times than you could count.

The person you considered a father.

You woke up to a blinding light, a parched throat, and a dull throbbing all over your body. You shuffled as you tried to find a more comfortable position and get a look around.

“Y/N?” came a quiet voice and you looked to your left, noticing another bed next to yours, occupied by no other than your brother.

“Will,” you gasped as you tried to sit up but once again, by habit, you used both your arms to prop yourself up which shot a shattering pain through your left arm, making you cry out as your body shuddered and dropped down on the bed.

“D-don’t get up! You’re hurt!” Will instructed frantically as he also shot up in order to get a better look and make sure you were ok. As ok as a person with mauled arm could be.

“I-I’m fine. I keep f-forgetting that my arm is fucked up,” you hissed.

At that moment, the door opened and your mother entered. Her eyes widened when she saw you curled on the bed in pain and rushed to your side.

“What happened, sweetie?! Does your arm hurt too much?” she asked as her hands grabbed the sides of your face, brushing your hair away as she tried to get a good look at you. “I’ll go get a doctor, ok? Don’t move too much!” before you could respond she was already hurrying out of the room.

“Are you alright, baby? Are you hurt?” you asked Will as you turned to look at him and he shook his head. He wasn’t looking as if he was on the brink of death anymore which was a significant improvement. “Do you know if… if they managed to kill the monster?” you whispered.

“Yes… they killed it,” he revealed and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered and he looked at you incredulously.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For not coming to save you earlier? For not being able to-to protect you even after I came for you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect you from the monster even when I was right there,” you stuttered out as guilt and disappointment washed over you.

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed. “You came! You tried distracting it! You tried saving me! That’s more than enough!”

You let out a watery chuckle as you looked into his eyes which oozed truth and confidence to back up his words.

“Still… you’re not leaving my side from now on,” you gave him a smile and he returned it. “We stick together. Our family.”

.

Will woke up on the same night after the whole affair while you took two days to gain consciousness because of the blood loss you’ve suffered and because you had to battle off an infection. The doctors were confused as to how infection was so quick to develop but then again they didn’t know that an alien monster had sunk its filthy, slimy claws in your flesh or that you had spent quite some time trapped in another dimension where toxic particles rained down on you and had entered your wound before your mother and Hopper had found you and had wrapped it up.     

You woke up for the first time on the night of the second day.

Will was discarded the next morning but the doctors wanted to keep you for forty-eight more hours before letting you leave and continue your healing journey at home, with frequent visits to the hospital. Hopper had used bear attack as an excuse for the large claw marks that had torn your arm and you had gotten over forty stitches after undergoing hours of surgery. You had been in the high-risk factor of developing sepsis which had sent Joyce into a panic attack and Hopper had to calm her down. Steve, Nancy, and the children had been at the hospital that night. They too had almost lost it.

Now everything was fine and you were out of danger with your arm on the way to recovery.

It was officially your third day at the hospital, and the first day you’ve been awake out of all when you got a visitor.

“Hey,” greeted Steve as he entered the room and slowly approached the bed. You were sitting up comfortably, back lying on big pillows as you read the book Jonathan had picked and brought you when he had come to take Will home earlier this morning.

“Hi,” you smiled at him as you closed the book and let it rest on your lap.

“Frankenstein? Kind of fitting isn’t it?” he chuckled as he sat on the chair next to the bed and you arched an eyebrow.

“Fitting, how?”

“There’s a monster in there… and there was a monster in here that we, uh, battled,” he shrugged and you let out a laugh, making him scrunch his eyebrows in confusion as a smile spread on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing… nothing…” you waved a hand as your giggles died down. “I’m surprised you’ve read it. You’re not that much into books. Especially the classics.”

“We had a project for literature at the end of last school year, remember? We teamed up for it. You picked that book,” shook his head Steve but his smile grew nonetheless.

“Right! Sorry, my head is a bit messy.”

“Nah, that’s understandable,” he chuckled before handing you something that was neatly wrapped up. “I got this for you.”

You gladly took it with a ‘Thanks’ and tugged the bow before lifting the lid of the box, only for you to find your favorite sweets inside.

“Only Steve Harrington can decide to fancily wrap up something as simple as candy,” you chuckled and he joined you, happy to see you smile after such a long time of you being a shell of the person you used to be. “Thank you,” you reached to grasp his shoulder with your right hand, careful of your wrapped up in a sling left arm, and brought him closer. He followed your lead, allowing you to do it, and closed his eyes to savor the kiss you placed on his cheek. When you pulled away, the two of you stared at each other for a while before he cleared his throat.

“I have something to tell you. I think you’re gonna like it.”

“Really? What is it?”

“I, uh, ditched Tommy and Carol,” he confessed and your eyes widened as a large smile graced your face.

“Are you serious!?”

“Yepp.”

“You’ve no idea how happy I am to hear this!” you almost squealed and his eyebrows shot to his hairline in amusement as he chuckled. He should have done that a long time ago. It had only taken him hearing one too many insults thrown at you and your family by Tommy and him spraying “Nancy the slut Wheeler” at the cinema in order to finally reach the conclusion that he didn’t need such people in his life.

Better late than never.

Suddenly, the door was pretty much thrown open as someone stormed inside.

“You shall not pass!” yelled a familiar voice. “Is what the receptionist said yet here I am!” exclaimed the person as he dramatically posed and you chuckled while Steve lifted a brow in confusion and slight irritation.

“Eddie!”

“Fair maiden,” he quickly glided over to your side and moved a hand from behind his back, revealing a flower. “I bring you this healing flower with the hopes that you’ll make a fast recovery. It’s as strong as the Athelas that elves use to heal their wounded,” he spoke dramatically as he bowed slightly, his hair falling to cover his face, offering you the flower and you chuckled as you took it from his hand.

“It’s wonderful, Eddie. Thank you,” you gave him a bright smile and he grinned widely before straightening up and dragging a chair closer to you, plopping down on it unceremoniously.

“And you are?” asked Steve as he looked the boy up and down.

“Eddie Munson,” he offered a hand with a slightly faltered smile and Steve looked at it then back at the boy, before he grasped it.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Your eyes darted between the two boys and you could feel tension pouring out of them in waves. You knew very well what Eddie thought of the popular people at school, being a victim to many of them. But Steve was a good person and he was changing for the better. He wasn’t a bully like Tommy and the others.

“Ok!” you exclaimed, pulling them out of their staring contest. “The more, the merrier! What shall we do to pass time?” you asked and Steve pulled something out of his bag.

“I was thinking we could play Trivial Pursuit,” he smiled as he placed it on your lap and you lifted a brow.

“I thought you weren’t a big fan of Trivial Pursuit.”

“Why? Athletes can’t be bothered to learn some common knowledge?” snorted Eddie and Steve shot him a dirty glare.

“Why not? We love learning new stuff every day. For example, I didn’t know they shaved heads in Juvie but now I do,” he snipped and Eddie frowned.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, Harrington.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll end up being like your father sooner or later, Munson.”

“Steve, that was way out of line!” you snapped and he looked at you incredulously, hand pointing to the other boy who looked utterly stunned by Steve’s last comment.

“He started it!”

“Yeah, but you were extra mean! I thought you were going to stop with the jackass remarks,” you frowned and he let out a sigh, lifting his hands in surrender. “And Eddie, it’s true, you started it. It was totally uncalled for,” you turned your attention to the other boy who looked away abashedly. “Jesus, what’s wrong with boys nowadays,” you huffed as you glared at them both. “Apologize to each other and shake hands,” you commanded and they looked at you in disbelief. “Now! Or leave,” you pointed at the door and they looked at one another before Steve offered his hand.

“Sorry…I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled and Eddie huffed as he accepted his hand, lips twitching a bit in a smile.

“Nah, I shouldn’t have started it.”

Your angry expression quickly melted into a satisfied one as you watched the boys make even. It was funny how awkward they were being but you hoped that the three of you could still have some fun playing board games and talking about trivial things.

Who knows, maybe something good would come out of all this.

“Welcome home, sweetie!” sang out Joyce as she opened the door and entered with you following closely.

“It’s good to be back, at last,” you sighed tiredly as you looked around.

Your house was in a much better condition than you last saw it. Your mother and brother had worked a lot these past days in order to fix what was broken, replace what was irreparable, and clean up the whole mess left after a week of grieving and monster hunting. Now it almost looked just like it used to before the whole Demogorgon incident.

“Y/N!” exclaimed Will as he set foot in the living room, having bolted out of his room after hearing your voice. He ran to you and almost collided against your side in his rush to hug you. You hissed out in pain when your arm was jerked and he immediately pulled away, looking at you apologetically and in panic. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok, honey. Don’t worry about it,” you chuckled as you brought him back into your one-arm embrace and caressed his head lovingly. “I missed you too.”

“Hey, now, don’t forget us!” cried out Joyce as she and Jonathan joined the hug, mindful not to crush you or Will. “The two of you are not leaving my sight, you hear that?” asked your mom as she planted kisses on your and Will’s head and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Moom! It’s over. Everything is going to be ok from now on.”

“Right…right. Of course, it will be!” she smiled before heading to the kitchen and beckoning Jonathan to go help her warm up the food and set the table.

Meanwhile, Will grabbed your hand and led you to sit on the sofa, silently insisting that you rest. You patted the seat next to you and he climbed on it, not needing a second invitation. He curled at your right side and you patted his head gently, placing a kiss on his temple. You could feel that he was afraid. He was trying to be tough but you knew he was afraid and traumatized. And you couldn’t blame him for it. There was a tough battle ahead of you. But you knew you’d be able to overcome it as long as you supported and loved one another.

You really hoped and prayed that things would start getting better and better and that you would find peace.

But for some reason, there was something whispering in the depths of your subconscious mind, that this wasn’t over.

You chose to ignore it.   

[the-graves-family]

No. 3: Set up for failure

The moment Aaron gets down into the basement, he knows it’s not going to be a good day for him. Ace looks like he hasn’t slept, which always puts him in a fantastic mood, and he’s tapping away loudly at his keyboard. Ace hates loud sounds. He only does that when he’s overstimulated or angry. Or both.

The corpse near the desk is still twitching, which might explain the irritability. Having his projects do things they’re not supposed to is one of his brother’s biggest triggers. And Aaron supposes that the metal thing around the poor fuck’s head wasn’t meant to kill him. 

He waits for a moment, wondering why he was called down here, feeling dread pool in his stomach. 

Ace’s fingers stop on his keyboard, and his gaze cuts to Aaron, sharp like a knife. “Do you think I keep you around to just stand there? Clean up.”

Ah. It’s one of those days.

Aaron keeps his mouth. Better to do that than get verbally, and maybe physically, lashed. Right. He has a body to get rid of. He’s done it plenty of times, but his limbs already ache from the thought of having to drag all that dead weight upstairs.

He’s not sure what to do about the machine attached to the guy’s head, though. Usually, Ace has already removed them before he calls him down. Taking a few steps towards his twin, he can feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. Hates himself for feeling so scared of what Ace could do.

Aaron would kill him if he could.

Crouching down next to Steve, that’s what he’s calling his dead buddy for the next few hours, he reaches out to see if he can find some unlocking mechanism or something, because he can’t bury it outside.

“What are you doing?”

Aaron hates the flinch that makes him almost fall back. He looks up at his twin briefly, then down at Steve. He’s glad Ace doesn’t do rhetorical questions, because he would never be sure if he’s meant to answer his stupid-ass questions.

“Trying to get the thing off his head?”

He can feel it before it actually turns on. He’s not sure if it’s an actual thing or if he just knows what Ace is about to do. But he feels a slight buzz under his skin before a thirty milliamperes current shoots up his leg and makes him fall on all fours, crying out in pain. It’s shorter than usual, just a warning zap. Just enough to make him shake and burn, but not enough to actually injure him. Fucking why? He has no idea what he’s done this time. He should never have come down here, but then Ace would have just shocked him worse. Like the last time he’d disobeyed a summons.

“Keep your hands off it.” The ‘filthy’ is silent but understood.

Gasping for air, trying to get his twitching limbs under control, Aaron keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, because if he looks up, he might try to actually kill his brother, and no one will have a good time, then. A few moments of silence pass, and finally the metal contraption, who kind of looks like a crab, maybe, unlatches and scampers off. Steve’s face is gone gone.

The crab freaks him out more than the lack of face.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Or do you just enjoy wasting my time?”

Ace’s words are sharp, and Aaron wishes he didn’t give a fuck. He really does. He wishes he could just hate blindly and not be obliged to this capricious, contradictory, obstinate piece of shit. But no. He’s not that lucky.

Grunting as he gets back up on his feet, he grabs the corpse by its arms and starts dragging it. Just you and me, Steve. Not like I want to die, but a nap sounds great, right now. He’s so immersed in his thoughts, that he completely misses the gear flying towards him.

Ace doesn’t usually throw things. Aaron wonders what the hell went so wrong in today’s test that his twin has become a fucking toddler.

The metal hits him in the head, and Aaron crumbles with a yelp, taking a hand to the blazing pain in his scalp. It comes back red. Fuck! He wants to scream, to yell, to do anything other than gasp and curl in on himself briefly.

“Is it that hard for you to work quietly?” Ace hisses, getting up and approaching him slowly. Maybe to finish him off. One can only hope. Still, Aaron doesn’t want to die, not yet, so he shuts his mouth and tries to inch away, just in case Ace decides the bloodied gear still has more use. “After everything I do for you, I’d expect you to be respectful of my peace.”

What he does for him. Sure.

“But I suppose I can’t expect a stupid dog to understand what it has to do. Be quiet.”

Aaron doesn’t respond, doesn’t say anything. There’s no way to stand up against Ace, that’s just asking for more trouble. He just has to shut up and take it, and then get himself drunk after Steve here is buried and forgotten.

“Clean up after yourself and leave. I don’t need to be reminded of the failures of our father more than I already have.”

That one hurts more than usual. Fuck you, Aaron thinks, glaring at the floor as blood drips down his face, staining the floor. You and the whole fucking family. But he has work to do, he can’t wallow in self-pity just yet. Getting to his feet as Ace goes back to his desk, Aaron grabs Steve’s arms again and as quietly as possible starts dragging up the steep, metal stairs.

He doesn’t make it a third of the way before his brother’s machines are coming after him.

[self-shipping-doll13]

Grey Smoke Curling Up Into The Night Sky

November Prompts

Wc: 972

The last embers of sunlight were long in the dying, casting the dusk in a deep purple glow. Stars blazed white beacons against that canvas of velvety night.

From a hundred smokeholes, trails of smoke billowed into the clear skies. All of Kattegat huddled together around fires eating their supper, bouncing their young ones on their knees and telling tales of the endless Winter of fimbulvetr. Far off in the distance, dark smudges of cloud were looming at the edges of the world, promising to crown the kingdom with snow.

Today the mud had gone hard and packed in the cold. As Ivar’s crutch stabbed hard into the ground, its pointed metal end broke through the crust.

“Stupid thing,” he cursed, forcefully wresting it from the half-frozen ditch it had gotten stuck in. “Not fit for purpose. I cannot wait to burn it,” declared Ivar, turning to me and shrugging with a mocking arch of his brow. “When I get the chance. Maybe right now.”

“A fire’d be welcome,” I said as we both started moving once more, trudging along in the light snow. “That way I can feel my fingers and toes again.”

My gaze drifted to the crutch, half-rotten and cruel looking. He was awaiting a replacement that would prove to boast ease of handling and comfort.

“It could be worse, couldn’t it,” he said, accompanied by a sharp inhale between his teeth. “It could always be worse. We could be this uncomfortable in England.”

I thought it sweet he’d adopted a kind of contempt for the place, as if it would make me feel better about it.

“Although the Winters were milder there,” I said fairly.

“They were,” he agreed, and with a hint of reminiscence in his tone: “Warmer and more bearable.”

Occasionally there were when the silvery beams of moonlight shone down perfectly, and the banks of snow glittered like jewels, but I had suffered too many harsh Winters in my lifetime to truly admire them. Ivar detested the cold himself, seeing as it made his joints ache, a deep pain settling in his bones. Given this, I had even less reason to make peace with it. It was nice to warm up our bodies and act grumpy together, when I had been so solitary before.

A bitter wind rushed past, snapping at us with icy teeth, and his heavy sable cloak flapped wildly around him like a set of raven’s wings. I clung onto his elbow, but only loosely, so as not to hinder our walk, and I could see his breath in ghostly puffs of mist.

“I’m thinking of how my brothers are faring,” he pondered aloud, watching the swirling grey tendrils of woodsmoke and black clouds obscure the stars.

“Nothing will prepare them for you.”

Ivar barked with harsh laughter. “Of course not.”

A ladder of jagged bones hanging from a peasant’s doorway clattered harshly. Eyeing them warily for a moment, he shot me a curious look. “You’ve seen no more from the gods?”

“I would’ve told you if I did,” I said, recalling how labyrinthine my dreams had been lately. Kattegat’s old Seer had been so vague in his riddles that we didn’t lose much by killing him, but there were still times I thought I’d like to plead to him for guidance.

A childish instinct, to be sure, one I hoped to discard. “Perhaps it is a good thing that they are not forthcoming. Victory could almost come as a surprise.”

Ivar scoffed. “Hardly.” It was clear he was mollified.

For once when we strolled by the blacksmith’s, I did not see bright sparks, or hear the shrill ringing of metal. It was the slaughterous song of Ivar’s new weapon—and that was not the only voice raised up in a cry. By day, the hewn of axes chopping wood and the rending of saws joined in a terrible symphony as the great palisades were fortified. A sharp, resinous smell penetrated the air, alongside the nauseous stench of sweat, horseflesh and charred meat. Warriors had arrived in their droves, ready to fight and die in battle, so long as it was promised to be a glorious one.

The bear was in hibernation, and when he emerged from his hiding place he would find a clever trap sprung on him. I had foreseen it, and so it would come to pass.

“I doubt Björn ever thought of me as anything but the useless cripple brother he left behind,” he huffed. “But he’s the one who's probably feeling awful right now. Freezing his ass off somewhere so far away from home, wondering who will warm him tonight.”

A smirk curled on Ivar’s lip as he reached out to lightly tug on a loose strand of my tousled hair. “Why would I ever need to wonder, when I have you?”

How rewarding it always felt to watch him preen like a proud black bird, his dark feathers slick with blood. I smiled coyly at him. “And what is more…”

I’d grown used to the shadows of Ivar’s guards, the flash of White Hair’s cruel grin and crueller blade. I still did not want them listening in, so I drew closer. The stray hairs of his fur cloak tickled my nose as I whispered my odd suggestion in his ear.

Ivar smirked heatedly at me as I came away, his hand grasping hard at my hip. “You are an evil woman.”

My only answer was the slash of a grin.

Then he perked up as the vast ridges of the Great Hall came into view, his eyes bright with wickedness. “Ah,” he announced agerly. “Home sweet home.”

As soon as we were indoors, the men were dismissed and the fire was lit. That night our household joined in with the grey curls of smoke dancing in the heavy sky.

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day One:

War Never Changes

I'm a little late to the party, but here's what I've got for day number one of Falloutober! The main fic for these two is Danse-centric, so I thought it'd be a fun challenge to rewrite the opening scene from Frankie's perspective this time. Enjoy~

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence

Ship: Paldadin Danse x male Sole Survivor

"What's the plan here?"

Frankie rolled his eyes behind his gas mask, barely suppressing a groan. His newly acquired commanding officer had been, up until that very moment, the one calling the shots.

Why would Danse, an otherwise by-the-book kind of man, hand him the reins without warning? The question served as an obvious test; it wasn't as if this so-called 'Paladin' had been anything but wary of him thus far.

Now, facing down an unknown number of super mutants, he was suddenly leaving Frankie to figure out the best course of action.

He wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked him clean across his stupid, perfect face.

Frankie peered above the bushes they were squatting behind to get a better look at the camp. He did a quick visual scan of the place before pulling his head back down behind cover.

"I see three, but there's definitely more."

He tried to explain that his preferred method of sneak-attack wouldn't be as effective with super mutants as it would with human enemies, but the Paladin cut him off.

Typical.

Frankie tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently as he was, once again, chastised for his manner of dress.

"You'd see better if you weren't wearing that ridiculous thing."

That tone of his was enough to make Frankie grimace. Despite his disarming good looks, Danse was proving no different than the military officials he served before the whole world went to shit. Society was functionally nonexistent and all Danse could seem to think about was arbitrary uniform codes.

Maybe you should just, I dunno, show him your ugly fuckin' mug? Then he'd get it.

He knew that was never truly an option, but it was nonetheless entertaining to imagine Danse's reaction to the grand reveal that he'd been on the receiving end of an unsightly facial disfigurement.

Deathclaws and power armor... Bad combo. Should probably warn him about that...

Frankie opted to ignore him, a momentous exercise of restraint on his behalf, the likes of which the Paladin would probably never be able to appreciate.

"It's not my favorite idea, but how's about you provide covering fire and I'll go in guns blazing?" he said confidently.

"I suppose it's not the worst plan in the world," Danse replied, shrugging his hulking, metal-clad shoulders, drawing an unseen smirk from Frankie at the sight of it. "You point, I shoot."

It was all too obvious that Danse didn't think he'd succeed. Frankie wasn't one to take such a challenge lightly. Hell, if a deathclaw and the literal end of the world couldn't take him down, he was practically invincible, right?

Frankie gave a smug smile behind his mask, clapping Danse on the shoulder.

"Good man. I'll see you on the other side."

He gave a quick two-finger salute, knowing damn well it was sure to piss Danse off to no end since it wasn't the classic Brotherhood salute he'd been taught. Just before he slid down the side of the hill, he caught a glimpse of Danse's face as expression changed to that of a man questioning his life choices.

He sure is somethin'... Guess this shit ain't so different from how it used to be, though. Murderin' everythin' in sight, dealing with annoying military bullshit… Annoying commanding officers with big ole cow eyes. Tryin' not to think about how good said commanding officer would look on his knees…

Frankie shook his head, trying to reel himself back in. He could dwell on his perversions later. Right now, he had to prove he was all he claimed and then some.

God, if you can hear me, just know that I think you're a real sick sonuvabitch.

"Two-hundred years on ice and a fella still can't catch a fuckin' break," he mumbled to himself.

He loaded his shotgun as he approached the first mutie he saw guarding the entrance to the camp. He noticed Frankie far too late.

Before the lumbering abomination could open his mouth to alert the others in his company, a laser fired from the hillside hit him square in the chest. He stumbled a little and Frankie finished him off with two shots to the head, whistling low.

He's a phenomenal shot, I'll give him that. Good timing, too.

Frankie took great delight in the easy flow of the battle. The mutants were slow to react, giving him ample time to sort out his strategy as he went. He made his way through the camp, drawing out his enemies toward the chaos and systematically taking them down, ducking behind cover to reload as Danse provided covering fire from above.

When things finally settled and the last of the super mutants fell, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the silence that rang in his ears. Frankie pulled up his mask just enough to spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The mask fell back into place as he reached the entrance of the camp, giving a thumbs up in Danse's general direction. The Paladin was down the hill and standing before him within seconds.

"Great work up there," Frankie commended. He understood better than most the value in having a trained set of eyes looking out. "Good to know you've got my back."

Danse began removing the helmet of his power armor. Frankie felt a tug in his gut, firmly aware of the way his jaw hung open like an idiot upon watching him run a hand through that thick, dark hair of his. His mind began to wander as Danse's mouth moved, Frankie only barely hearing the words he spoke.

"Same to you, soldier. It's been a while since I've seen potential like that."

Danse sounded genuine about it, too. For half a second, Frankie found himself delusional enough to believe that perhaps he was flirting. With a subordinate, no less.

Just keep it casual, for once in your goddamn life. No sudden advances.

"I told you I had military experience," Frankie replied jokingly, testing the waters. "Did you think I was lyin'?" he asked, leaning himself against one of the rotting wooden fences, paying no mind to the super mutant blood that now called it home.

"No. However, your secrecy leaves you with a lot to prove."

There it is. Damn… Audacious prick.

"Is that so?" Frankie drawled, huffing a little through his nose. "Remind me to tell Elder Maxson that he should give you a promotion."

Danse raised an eyebrow. Of course it was the one with the scar through it. Frankie felt heat traveling up his neck, choking him.

He wanted nothing more than to grab him by those stupid handles of his power armor, pull him down to his level, and-

"Why is that?" Danse asked curiously, cocking his head.

"Because I'll be the best damn thing that's happened to the Brotherhood yet," Frankie answered without missing a beat.

"That's a bold claim. I admire your ambition."

Danse sounded amused, much to Frankie's dismay.

He kept bringing the conversation to the brink of what could constitute flirting. It was maddening, especially as Frankie's body continued to relax, muscles melting under his skin as the adrenaline faded away.

"Bold? I've earned my ego, pal."

Frankie pushed off the fence and had to look away from Danse, growing increasingly concerned that his impulses might cause him to do something idiotic. Like give him a right hook. Or kiss him. Maybe both.

"Maybe one day you'll get it through that thick skull of yours..." Frankie continued bitterly, "I'm not your average wastelander."

He turned on his heel and stalked away into the camp to loot it for all it was worth. A good enough distraction as any, he figured.

The backhanded compliments, the unsolicited commentary on his attire, and the fact that Danse was the most delicious thing he'd laid his eyes on… Frankie knew he was in for a hell of a time working with the Brotherhood of Steel.

Despite all his tense irritation, there was the undeniable feeling of 'home' that came with working with Danse.

It was all so familiar, comforting in a sentimental way. And Frankie was a sentimental bastard, if there ever was one.

Yeah, nothin's changed a lick.

[rphelperblog]

Part one of Kaz Brekker Quote Rp Meme

inspired by @multistoty​ @demjin-hands​

“Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.” 

“What doesn't kill me better run.” 

“We can rest when we're rich” 

“Better to get fat on information than starve on good manners.”

“I have a conscience, It just knows when to keeps its mouth shut”

“When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing.” 

“I want you to stay. I want you to...I want you.” 

“And I'm going to get my girl.” 

“Only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”

“Do not be afraid. Fear is how they control you. Their’s so much in the world you don’t have to be afraid of, if only you would open your eyes.” 

I have met plenty of men who call themselves kings.” 

“i’m a business men. No more. No less.”

“You were angry. Angry wears off. I needed you righteous.”

“I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges,”

“The really bad monsters never look like monsters” 

“We will be queens and kings.”

“What do you think my forgiveness looks like?”

“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”

"Because I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days.” 

“We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.” 

“Is my tie straight?”

“Curse you and your Saints,"

“How many times have you told me you're a monster? So be a monster. Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.”

“Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself.” 

“It’s not a metaphor.”

“I’m pragmatic. If I were cruel, I’d give him a eulogy instead of a conversation.”

“I don’t want your prayers,”

“I'm not susceptible to flattery, only stacks of cash” 

“You can only sharpen a blade so far, In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.” 

“I protect my investments.

"Oh, it's worse than that. If I fail, I don't get paid.” 

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.” 

Next time you plan to impress me give me some warning.” 

“Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.”

“When you can't beat the odds, change the game.”

“If you didn’t like the weather, you didn’t rush into the storm—you waited until it changed. You found a way to keep from getting wet.” 

"You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute's way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It's a delicate thing.

“I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?”

"If it were a trick, I'd promise you safety. I'd offer you happiness.”

“No, little brother. No one is stronger. You've cheated death too many times. Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man.” 

"I've seen her do it twice. It worked splendidly. Once".

"The toughest mark is an honest one,Thankfully, they're always in short supply.” 

Doesn’t matter how big the gun is if you don’t know where to point it.” 

“When one plan was blown, you made a new one. When they backed you in to a corner, you cut a hole in the roof.” 

“I may not walk straight, but at least I don't run from a fight.” 

When they took everything from you, you found a way to make something from nothing.” 

“You really think they’ve built a cell that can hold me?” 

“What a luxury to turn your back on luxury.” 

"I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native language.” 

If your god is so delicate, maybe you should get a new one. Let’s get out of here.” 

“You draw on me again, I’ll break both your wrists, and you’ll have to hire someone to help you take a piss.” 

"It is very much our concern. And watch your tone.” 

“I'm pragmatic. If I were cruel, I'd give him an eulogy instead of a conversation.” 

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge Receives An Elevator Pitch (Part 21)

Don’t say anything. Don’t say it. You manage to restrain yourself from being unpleasant by just a hair, your patience running as thin as your energy. Into the elevator, close the door, press the button. Ignore the skeleton leering at you. Or maybe at your back where you keep your gun. 

...He’s not staring at your butt, is he?

“Mister Sans, I appreciate the show of chivalry but I will be fine getting to my own room,” you say as evenly as you can manage, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Sans shrugs, shuffling closer to you. Close enough that when he dips his head, when he inhales, you can feel the drag of air. “nothin’ to do with chivalry, sweetheart,” he purrs, licking his teeth. “just wanna spend some time with ya. ain’t a crime.”

And there he goes with that lower case-proper case speak again. It makes you feel a certain way to know that he would only speak like that in certain company. That he had somehow included you in that short list. 

No, wait. You need to be professional. Separate. 

Sans seems to pick up on your thoughts, or perhaps the way that your expression clams up, because he leans in close with a hand on the wall behind you, murmuring in his baritone voice, “you’re off duty, sweetheart. manager said you could go rest, didn’t she?” 

She did. But Sans--

“i’m mooching off o’ Frisk tonight, so technically i haven’t got a room,” he purrs, his face coming closer still. His soft breaths feather over your face, the sliver of exposed skin on your neck. He smells like cherry smoke, ripe cherries, and just the slightest hint of mustard. You don’t want to admit that he smells good, but he smells good. “y’know what that means, sweetheart?”

You look at him in the reflective metal of the elevator door. Oh, you have the urge to say something rude. No, no, better stop yourself. But the neutral expression on your face does slip slightly.

A snigger escapes Sans. “means i ain’t a guest. and that y’ain’t gotta be nice ta me~” His voice dips. “yer a vision when yer mean, y’know that?” 

“I’m not entirely certain you want me to be mean to you.” Your reflection is tinged in gold, but you can see the blazing red pilot lights for his eyes, how they are just ever so fuzzy around the edges. His crimson red tongue slips out to lick his teeth again, but this time flicking so close that you swear you can feel its static on your skin. 

Suddenly, his words filter through the fog in your brain. 

A vision when you’re mean. 

“You saw?” At last, you turn your head to regard him, eyes to eyelights. This close, you can smell the cherry and mustard on his breath. Feel the warmth of his body. Sense the desirous intent wafting off of him. Against your will, your eyes spark with warmth.

His eternal grin widens. The scent of cherries grows thicker. “eye guess ya can say it was a sight to behold. can’t believe you’d stab a guy and blow his head off fer me.” His voice deepens even more, the sensuous purr rumbling loud enough that you can feel it rattling against the arm closest to him. “got me real hot under the collar, sweetheart~ don’t suppose you’d wanna help me with that?”

Mere centimetres separate you now, barely an inch, and you have to fight to keep still. The urge to sway into him is great. And you...

Well, you are off duty, aren’t you?

Hands fist in the lapels of an expensive, well crafted suit jacket and haul Sans up to you in a show of strength. You over-estimate the strength needed and end up yanking him to you, crashing his body into yours. The sheer momentum of it makes you stumble back, though you reflexively turn and pin him up against the wall with a thump. 

Sans gasps, his hands flying to your wrists. Though he uses some strength to hang onto you, you barely feel it through the sturdy gauntlets housing your hidden knives. “s-shit--sweetheart--” he chokes out, his eye lights blooming wide. Red magic gathers at his cheekbones in a bright blush. 

Yes, you think, staring at him with eyes that flicker with the fire licking down your spine. You like seeing him like this. Blushing, looking at you like...like...like this. For all that he’s a broad monster, bigger and wider than you, you’re the one pinning him up against the wall.

You want more of it. 

Heat grows in your belly and chases away the fatigue fogging your mind. Your eyes sharpen, darken, and you take a moment to compose yourself. But then you catch sight of the straps of suspenders, now exposed by the way that you’re pinning him by the lapels. Black stripes disappearing up towards his shoulders and under his suit. Contrasting against the crimson of his buttoned-up shirt, matching the black of his tie. 

Shit.

“It would be my pleasure to assist you with this, Mister Sans,” you say back evenly, if with a rougher voice. Leaning in, you come close enough to brush your nose against the tip of his nasal bone, close enough to feel the hot blush of magic across his face. 

“yeah?” Sans looks as if you had clubbed him over the head, his teeth parted, his tongue visible behind those pearly whites. His hands are similarly fisted in your coat at your waist. Pulling you tight. Keeping you close. As if you weren’t already pinning him against the wall. 

Your lashes flutter downwards in a slow blink, your eyes now smouldering with warmth. “Indeed...” 

The elevator dings then, thunderous and startling. 

Sans growls at the interruption, his sharp phalanges tightening against you. You, on the other hand, only press him into the wall as you push yourself away. Luckily, there is no one awaiting the elevator outside.

“I accept your elevator pitch, Mister Sans,” you say formally, a small smile twitching your lips upwards. “Perhaps we can continue this discussion in a more private setting.”

“lead the fucking way.”

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

[knullanon]

doc ock brain rot rn

should I be working on requests? yes, I should. did I work on one and then forget to edit it after I got this idea from inspiration of an artwork? yes, yes I should.

btw this whole thing was inspired by that one drawing by @/valvilot of doc ock that was some good shit

anyways here it is. also this was done on my phone so pls excuse any spelling mistakes. 3,070 words too like damn 😳

otto octavious. he had everything: a good job, a place to live, a wife. he was living in peace, with no one to bother him. he was renowned as one of the best scientists that the kingdom had. he was the best of the best, they has told him. no one could outmatch him. they loved his work, always praising him. and then the metal arms came into play.

he originally was trying to use them to create his new project, one to make a power source for the whole area, and, if it became such a success, maybe for the whole kingdom. they would help him with issues that were plaguing the city, and he probably would've been regarded as a founder of New science... had he not lost his mind.

when the king discovered his more unethical experiments.

they told him he couldn't turn merfolk into humans, or that he couldn't bargain with their lives for the price: he couldn't harness the power of blazing fire in the water, they didn't need that, it would be useless, it would be too violent.

it all came to a standstill when the king had came to a realization that otto was only acting like this because of those metal arms: otto claimed he had full control over them, but even he didn't belive himself.

either way, the king gave him a choice: give up the arms, and go into a rehabilitation program to try and "help" him, or be exiled and kicked out of the kingdom.

it wasn't hard to choose. after all, the arms that he controlled, they were the only thing he needed to continue his experiments.

so, he took what he could carry and swam away. he found a nice cave, that had deep ingroves into it and large, open spaces.

just a place for him... and his tests.

Otto grabbed a vial, this one full of fish organs and skin, and poured it into the bowl. he reached for another vial, labeled about something kelp, and tossed it in.

while yes, he could use his time wisely to find new resources for his experiments, or creating better spells or ideas, but he was just too bored. nothing to do, nothing to see... no one to talk to.

otto grabbed the bowl, and without thinking, he chucked it against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million pieces and the contents of it scatter with it.

his metallic arms, the ones he made, were writhing in anger over boredom, and his tentacles were no different.

the clicking of his arms brought him back to reality. it motioned to the mess, almost as if it were saying "are you going to clean that?".

otto sighed, and glided to the entrance to his main lab, where a rack of sponges reisded. he picked one up, and was about to go and clean up his mess, when one of the arms felt something. he turned towards the large opening of the cave, and while he couldn't see the full entrance, he could almost feel as if there was something there. he waited for a moment, another moment, before finally deciding it was probably just a current, nothing to worry about.

until he heard a voice behind him.

"e-excuse me? are you dr. octavious?"

quickly turning around he looked left and right before looking straight in front of him, where he saw you, looking up at him with almost puppy dog eyes. you didnt look to be a threat: in fact, he was surprised you weren't ripped apart the minute you stepped foot into the cave.

"who's asking?" making sure to give a stern tone, as he did not want to seem unaware of his surroundings. it was a mistake of his to even let you in without knowing who you were, and he would not be making it again.

you looked down at your fins, and were almost moving them around to calm yourself. "I need to know if he can help me with... with-"

and all of the sudden otto knew exactly why you were there. it had happened more than once in the past, even before he had been exiled, and he was almost excited at the idea of gambling with you about your life: and yet, a part of him wanted to hold you there with him, to keep you safe and protected, not like those weird mutants on the surface.

"let me guess: you want to turn into a human?"

he leaned down towards you and grabbed your chin gently, and made you look at him. you couldn't have been an adult in his eyes: he hasn't seen someone as young as you for... well, ever.

you almost shook your head to get his hand off, and you finished your sentence.

"I want a good father."

otto almost physically reeled back out of surprise. he simply leaned back a little, and maybe widened his eyes (which you wouldn't have seen, with his glasses on). hw blinked once. twice. finally, he asked, "what?"

you almost looked ashamed, like you had just humiliated yourself in front of a parade. but you held out strong, and explained your request.

"my... my father and I, we haven't been on, well, let's just say we haven't been on good terms for a while now. he hasn't gotten better, and no matter how much I try, he doesn't seem to want a good relationship with me."

otto listened, and simultaneously moved back, to let you in, which you obliged easily.

you're eyes were tired, and your face was almost sunken in. "I've tried everything and I want to give up..." your eyes looked to him with hope, almost as if he was a miracle. "... but I heard that you can do the impossible, that you can do whatever comes to your mind, from your metallic arms, to turning us into land walkers."

otto waited for you to say anything else, and when he realized you were done, he asked, "whay do you want to happen to your father, then?"

you looked up at him, and said, "I want him to become a loving and doting father. I want a father who cares for me, no matter what."

otto looked down at you, and his arms were getting worse. they were agitated, anxious.

we must take them away from here, they will be safer with us!

they're going to be ours to keep, and ours to own!

they each had their own opinions, and otto was thinking of a way to respond, when he suddenly got a very, very good idea. one thay calmed his arms, and himself.

he straightened himself up, and motioned for you to move, which you did. he started to wade through the water, and you followed.

"well, it's certainly a new request, one I haven't heard: lets see what we can do, shall we?"

-------

"I explained everything to you, correct?" the doctor was still swimming around the cave system, and you were following right on his tail, or, tentacles, and listening to him speak.

you nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and you repeated the things he had explained to you earlier, while wading towards his "lab".

"the deal will be in the form of a contract, once I sign it, there will be no backing out, negotiating details, or disobeying the deal. if I fail to comply, I... um..."

dr. octavious finished your sentence, "... whatever you chose to give in return as an, "down payment", will be taken by me. I suggest you try and figure out what that payment would be before we get to my lab."

you looked around and thought of some things you could give in return for this arrangement. you had plenty of jewelry from your mother, all of it could be worth something. maybe he would want your money? your house?

you were so lost in thought, that when he spoke again, you were almost startled.

"I must warn you, the hallway to my... lab is not for sensitive eyes. if you ignore it, and everything that tries to slow you down you should be fine. "

you were confused, but you continued on. he disappeared into a corner, and you followed blindly.

the inside of this hallway was shorter than the others, only being about 6 meters long, and it should only take a few moments to swim through it. if only that was it.

hundreds, if not thousands, of eyes and small tentacles were stuck to the walls, and you gasped at seeing it. octavious turned around and calmly stated, "just go by them: you won't feel anything."

he continued on, and you noticed that the eyes almost tried to make themselves smaller and tinier, to hide themselves when he went near them.

when you realized you were getting left behind, you quickly tried to swim towards him only to yelp when something grabbed your tail. you looked down, only to see that one of the tentacles had grabbed your fins. you tried to almost kick out of it, or swim away, but it wasn't budging.

you were about to reach down to tear it off when more of them started to grab you. and now they were trying to bring you down, towards them. there were multiple eyes staring at you, and you could almost hear something from them.

"stay away..."

"don't sign..."

"HELP US..."

you cried out when they had grabbed you hand in your attempt to free yourself, and for a moment you felt like you were going to die just from the feel and look of these... things.

however, it all came to a stop when there was a shadow behind you. some of the eyes retreated and tried to hide themselves, but others were stubborn.

and when octavious grabbed them by a fistful and clenched his hand until his knuckles were almost white, was when they let go of you completly.

he grabbed you, and held you bridal style while he swam towards the end of the hallway. just as before, the eyes and tentacles hid away from him, and you were about to thank him when he opened the door to his lab, and dropped you in.

the first thing you noticed was that the walls were black and smoth, compared to the jagged and rough rock of the rest of the cave. there was actual furniture, including some tables, a chair, and even a weirdly decorated chandelier.

the doctor led you to one of the many seats at a seemingly large dining table, and pulled out a chair with one of his metallic arms. when you took a seat, he went to the one directly opposite of you and took a seat.

before you could ask anything, something started to form in each of his hands.

"as you know already, the deal is in the form of a contract, to agree you sign, no backouts, blah blah blah."

when it was done sparkling, his hands revealed two things: a stack of papers, and a quill. the papers had a front page which had 3 slots. when you looked closely, the first slot was meant for your name, the second slot was already filled in with octavious' name, and the last one you didnt know.

"as I had said earlier, you will also need something as a, say, down-payment. in case you decide that you don't like whay I've given you, it won't be a great loss on my part."

it clicked that the third slot on the paper was meant for your "down payment". you grabbed the quill, signed your name, and you were about to put down your ideas for the payment before he stopped you. "now now now, we have to work that out!" when you gave himam a look, he elaborated. "what if you decide to give me something useless? we must come to a standpoint on what we can both agree on."

you lowered the quill and your name disappeared from the paper.

"well, what would you want for something like this?"

bingo.

"well, for a spell like this, where I have to rearrange a person's whole life and personality, and maybe even their physical attributes? I would say your soul."

that caught you off guard. "my-my soul?"

octavious simply gave a little grin. "yes, your soul. don't worry: from your standpoint and the way you came to me, begging for a change? you won't have to worry about it. it will simply be something that will guarantee you won't drop the contract at a moments notice."

you swallowed, and looked back at the contract. "if you don't want to sign it, that's alright, but I won't be able to help you-"

"fine." you put "my soul" in the third slot, and you heard the metal arms clink do whir around, making their appearance after a few silent minutes. octavious was gleeful, as he smiled ear to ear and almost pushed the contract into you.

"there, now just sign your name and you should be good."

you hesitantly put the quill on the paper, and stopped.

would this really be worth it? would you sell your soul for a better father? but you had already written your name, and the contract was snatched away from you.

you saw him roll up the stack of papers into one single roll, and then shove it in his pocket.

you smiled and got up, turning towards the door, when a metal arm stopped you. you looked back towards octavious with a confused look. "doc-doctor?"

he smiled and dragged you across the table with the arm into a hug. you squealed as he brought you off the ground, and his grip tightened. he started to carry you away, while you tried to thrashing your tail out to get away.

"hey!" you yelped again when he made his way to one of the walls and it seemingly opened by itself, revealing a darkly lit room with a luscious bed and luxurious furniture, including a non-shattered mirror (a hard find, especially if you weren't buying), a small nightstand, and what seemed to be a walk in closet.

he almost glided over to the bed, and plopped you down, while you looked around the room. even if your father had the decency to save up his money instead of gambling it, he wouldn't even have enough to buy a tenth of what was in the room.

however, you looked back up at octavious, who was ever so joyful about your deal. you tried to get up from your sitting position, but you were gently pushed back down.

"I wouldn't worry about that at the moment, my dear. you just get comfortable until im done cleaning up, then we will talk."

Otto started to move away, and you shot up, trying to follow him.

"doctor octavious, I don't understand, I gave you my signature, can I go home now-"

you couldn't finish the sentence when one of those metal arms of his grabbed you, and tossed you towards the bed.

you slammed into the mattress, getting right back up to yell at him, when you saw the door closing.

"I want to go back home!" you cried and everything seemed to be so slow for you. your swimming, the way he turned to look at you, time itself almost was gone.

he gave you a small smile, one that would have given you comfort if it wasn't for the fact that you almost knew why he was smiling.

"you said it yourself, you wanted a father that loved you, cared for you."

the door was only open enough for you to look out at him, and you tried to push past him, but he didn't budge.

"yes, but back at my home. with my dad."

suddenly, you were shoved back by a metal arm. you landed on your back and you leaned up, only to see a glowing, red eye staring at you.

the claw was clicking on its own, agitated by something, and it was almost pretending to lunge at you. you crawled back, as it continued its small attack, if it could even be called that, and eventually it retreated back to its owner, leaving you on your elbows and back.

it was then you noticed the almost annoyed- disappointed?- look on octavious' face. he turned to you fully, and said, "I am your father, ______. I hope you come to accept that soon, so it will be easier for you."

you looked up at him, now in shock. he elaborated, pulling out that damned contract and shook it in the air with one of his flesh arms. "right here, you signed, and this is what was promised. I give you a father, a loving, doting, caring father, and you in return, give me your obedience: or, however you want to explain the soul part of our deal".

you had tears in your eyes, as you got up on your hands, still not understanding why. "that was a way to make sure I wouldn't drop the deal, so that I would listen, not-"

he handed the contract off to one of his metal arms, and while it seemingly put it somewhere outside of the room, the doctor simply gave you a reassuring look.

"yes: your soul was the down payment."

realization hit you like a rock, and you immediately got up and tried to swim to the door, but it shut with a loud bang.

"you lied to me!" you cried. "you said- you said it was to-" you pounded on the door, trying to find the slit to try and pry open the door yourself, only for it to blend in with the wall itself. you couldn't find it at all.

you heard the doctor laugh, before he yelled out, "don't worry, _____. once I'm done cleaning up some mistakes and messes, well figure this out. I'll make sure you know how to behave."

you tried to best to open the door, to no avail. you cried, screamed, sobbed, just in case he truly wasn't gone. or maybe you were panicking. you couldn't tell anymore.

however, soon enough, all that energy made you curl in on yourself and you fell asleep, wishing that you had just decided to never come to the cave.

---------

anyways yes I am working on requests rn I have an doc ock brain rot and idk how to fix it besides writing for him. might have another one posted idk.

[thedandelion-writer]

❝sleeping habbits, mondstadt edition❞

Pairings: Diluc x reader, Mona x reader, Kaeya x reader, Jean x reader

A/N: There we go, part 2! Also a modern au :)

<- Liyue edition

Diluc hardly ever sleeps deeply

Some days, he'd even wake at the slightest sound

He feels the most vulnerable when asleep, thus the hyperawareness

You snort and thinks it's funny. Relax Diluc, no one's going to murder you in your sleep!

Right..?

On the days where you would come into bed after he was already turned in, you had to tiptoe around as if you were afraid of disturbing a baby. Even your breathing was silent.

The amount of sound that would wake him up varied. But you weren't sure if today was especially bad, as in footsteps could wake him up bad, or if it was mild, as in even the rustling of the covers would be okay.

It was all going well so far. You've slipped into sleepwear and was just about to settle in, mentally congratulating yourself. But maybe you thought you were in the clear too soon, because as soon as your weight hit the bed, it creaked.

You cringed inwardly, slapping a hand over your eyes as Diluc stirred.

"Don't wake up, love," you skirted over. "It's really late."

"It is really late." Was that an accusing tone you heard?

"Hehe...I was just finishing up some work." You quickly slipped underneath the sheets, body instantly enveloped in warmth. "I'm sorry for waking you."

Diluc shook his head before pulling you in closer.

"It's better with you here," he said. "I wouldn't mind staying up all night to wait."

Or maybe it wasn't the so called assassins who might come to him in the night that he feared. Maybe it was because he was afraid that he wouldn't see you again the next time he awoke.

Diluc doesn't really have a set time in which he'd go to bed

But he goes in relatively early because he also wakes up, relatively early

He was used to sleeping alone for the longest time, but now you've come and spoiled him

It just doesn't feel the same without you next to him anymore

Mona is the type of person who'd keep all her astrology books, trinkets, etc on her bed

Just splayed out and messy because she fell asleep whilst using them last night. And the night before...and the night before that

Never bothered to cleaning it up because it'll end up messy again anyway!

Sometimes you'd roll onto your back and ouch--there'd be a mini telescope or something

"Oww," you groaned, a pain stabbing at your side.

The culprit? It was unsurprisingly yet another one of Mona's astrologer's stuff. What the heck was this even called?

After plucking out the round, metal offender to place on the windowsill, you look over to your sleeping lover.

"Well at least someone's getting a good night sleep," you grumbled.

Somehow Mona always found a way to avoid all the nonsense she laid scattered on your shared bed. You always supported her passions, but this is getting out of hand.

As if sensing someone was talking (or in this case, thinking) about her, Mona stretched a little and curled up tighter into herself. You sighed softly to yourself, not being able to be annoyed for long.

You cleaned up the best you could (even though you already did that before turning in), and laid back down beside her. You'd have to make sure Mona would pay you for the troubles she's caused you tonight. And you only accept payment in cuddles!

The bed has to be beside a window. Always.

If the skies are clear and starry you best believe she'd be staring at them, talking about the things she loved most (other than you of course- ) until the both of you drift off

The girl's a night owl so you have to be able to put up with late night tinkering

Also--awful awful bedhead

But don't ever say it to her face, you will get hit by a pillow (or worse!!)

The guy has absolutely no regard for how freaking cold he keeps his room

It's an eternal winter in there, even when it's blazing hot outside

Worst part? He doesn't even have a proper blanket. That, sir, is a rectangular piece of cloth

If you like the cold? Then sure, let him keep it that way. If not, you would have to make some changes around here.

"You should've told me you lived in a fridge??" You said, half jokingly through chattered teeth.

"You don't like it sweetheart?" He faked hurt, sauntering up behind you to grasp your shoulders as if you were newlyweds inspecting a new house to move into.

"Uhh well, there's literal frost on the edges of your window. And it's not even winter, Kaeya, clearly I'll be a popsicle by morning!"

It was your first night staying with him. And in your head, it was going to be all romantic like you've seen in the novels and shows. Warm cuddles, kisses underneath the blankets (oh my gods that blanket is paper thin), legs and arms entwined and you'd wake up like that.

But archons be damned, this was not what you had imagined.

"You'd make a very good looking popsicle then, love," he had the nerve to laugh so you elbowed him in the ribs.

"Alright alright, I'll make it warmer for you, how does that sound?"

"And I want a new blanket."

"Consider it done," he ruffled your hair to press a kiss onto the crown of your head.

Anything to please his darling.

He also sleep talks

And it's the funniest shit you'll ever hear if you're awake to hear it

One time you recorded it and now you use it as blackmail, threatening to send it to Diluc every time he'd get too cheeky

Her sleeping schedule is messed. up.

Jean would never admit it, but she loses a lot of rest time due to her work

You keep telling her to please get more than 2 and a half hours of shut-eye per day, but she is stubborn as she is lovely

Which worries you a heck of a lot, obviously

Doesn't help the fact that this woman can sleep anywhere. On a chair sitting down, face on a desk, on the bus, against you, the list goes on

Sometimes, when she's worked herself to the limit, you'll find her asleep at the most bizarre of places

Funny story! One time, Jean fell asleep on the train on the way home and missed all her stops

You had to find her in the middle of nowhere

"Darling-" you hurried to embrace your tired looking lover as she ambled her way out of the station.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry you had to come get me in the middle of the night," Jean murmured into the crook of your neck. "I must have worried you too...I apologise."

You held your tongue at all the things you piled up to say on the drive here, but the scolding could wait until tomorrow. Right now, looking at her exhausted complexion, you couldn't bring yourself to tell her anything other than everything's alright, she can rest now.

Jean looked at you with eyes full of appreciation and affection, eyes that never failed to melt you like ice cream on the summer pavement.

Aside from that, she likes to keep the bedroom very neat

If she does sleep in the bed, Jean would constantly put your comfort over hers

You need some warm milk in the middle of the night? She's on it!!

Your pillows feel uncomfortable? Take hers!!

Oh dear you've accidentally rolled too much into her side? It's no problem, she can just move over to yours

Good morning kisses are her thing

But usually she gives it to you because she's almost always out of it first

[lonely-lost-soul]

Fight For Me

(C!Technoblade x gn!possessive!Reader)

Request 11: could I maybe request some c!techno x gn!possessive!reader fluff that follows someone trying to threaten techno while completely brushing off the reader only for the reader to step in and feral threaten them back (perhaps some fighting ensues with reader coming out on top) and then techno is awestruck by his partner which is then where the fluff comes in

Requested By: @bowlofsoup

I hope you like it!

“Sweetheart can you do me a favor and pass me the blaze powder,” Technoblade asked from his hunched-over position at his brewing station. He was wearing more casual clothes, his glasses loose on his nose, hair pulled back into a messy bun. You sat next to him on one of the chests, legs swinging up and down, you were wearing one of Techno’s oversized shirts.

“Sure thing,” You hummed tossing open the chest and handing him a bottle of said powder, he reached forward to take the bottle from your hands and you kissed his lips before he could take the bottle. Technoblade purred happily, his eyes going half-lidded at the surprise kiss, you chuckled against his lips as he flushed pink.

“Cringe.”

“Nerd,” You shot back with a smile he rolled his eyes focusing back on his potions, “Why’re you making these again?” Your gaze shifted towards the window. It was snowing again, it was always snowing. You hated that you were getting sick of the constant cold you wondered what the weather was like back at L’manburg or L’manhole was a better term for the once-prosperous nation. Technoblade looked back up at you, his hand reached out to interlock with your own, which caught your attention snapping you out of your daydreaming and you smiled back at him.

“Someone wants to buy them off me, figure sees what they’d offer me for it, not like I’m worried about getting jumped or anything,” Technoblade smirked coyly at you, almost like he was awaiting your praise. You didn’t fall for it though, simply letting out a little hum in approval, he frowned and cleared his throat.

“Oh sorry. Oh baby you’re so brave and strong, no one can take you down.” You pressed your hands together swooning sarcastically, Technoblade frowned and put you into a headlock. You laughed loudly instead of fighting against him you snuggled in his hold, “You’d never hurt me.”

“Try me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You mused with a flutter of your eyelashes, Technoblade flushed a little and grumbled under his breath. He could feel the smugness radiating off your entire being, if you were anyone else he would’ve sent you through a wall.

“Just shut up and grab a bag for the potions. They’re almost done.”

“Yes sir.” You saluted hopping off the chest to grab your bag from the coat rack, it was a soft brown bag covered in patches. Holding the bag open you allowed Technoblade to place the potions inside of them, “we ready to go?”

“You grabbed your coat and had breakfast right?” He raised an eyebrow, it seemed to be your turn to flush and Technoblade frowned, “Right?” Technoblade’s eyes narrowed in your direction and he watched you tap your fingers together sheepishly. “You’re a disaster, you’d be dead without me. Eat,” Technoblade dragged you into the kitchen and pulled out a roll for you to munch on, “Jam?”

“Yes please.” You gave a firm nod as he grabbed the knife and spread it on the bread before handing it to you.

“Remember to eat, can’t have my Starlight starving themselves,” The way you turned red made the hybrid smirk coyly at you. “You mean too much to me to go out in such a lame way, there has to be at least a little bit of bloodshed. Maybe some dismemberment if you’re lucky.”

“Damn and to think I was flattered for half a minute.” Techno chuckled at your comment, a deep rumble in his chest, you couldn’t help but smile yourself. You bit off a piece of bread, teeth tearing through the food easily “Ready to go now?”

“Finish eating then we can go. There’s no rush.”

“Isn’t someone waiting for us?”

“Let them wait,” Technoblade shrugged, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you close. You melted into his warm body closing your eyes, just taking a moment to bask in your love for the Blood God, how did you get so lucky?

Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same thing about you.

Eventually, you pulled away from him, much to his displeasure, and reluctantly said you both should head out. He huffed in protest and you pecked his lips, assuring him that the long journey would be worth it in the end. You both slide on your winter gear and headed towards Carl in the stables, you scratched the horse’s nose and he whinnied at the attention from his second favorite person. Technoblade tossed him an apple to which he munched on happily before applying his saddlebags to the sides of the horse, he hopped onto him and held a hand out to you. You took the hand with a wild smile swinging your leg over the side of Carl and wrapping your arms around Technoblade’s waist securely. He looked at you over his shoulder and pecked your forehead lightly, you cooed at him in response, and just like that the both of you were off. As you traversed the Tundra, your adoring boyfriend decided it would be a great time to quiz you on your fighting skills. He always did this, especially when he was nervous about something, you concluded a part of him was nervous the deal would go south and you’d end up hurt. You squeezed him a little and answered all his questions in hopes you’d ease his worries, it seemed to work as he relaxed against your chest. You would’ve played with his hair if it wasn’t tied up in a bun, so instead, you settled for giving him gentle kisses on the back of his neck.

He was a wreck by the time you got to the meeting spot, all red-faced and embarrassed. You did feel a little guilty but it was also very entertaining to watch him slide off the horse all frustrated with your antics. “You’re lucky we have somewhere to be,” he vaguely threatened and you hummed,

“What happened to ‘they can wait?’” His red eyes narrowed into slits and Carl stomped his foot, “oh you’re such a party pooper.” You complained as the horse nudged you forward towards the meeting spot. Technoblade huffed now turning his glare on Carl for interrupting your moment. He adjusted the sword at his hip and marched forward expecting you to follow, you did, but it’s the principle that irked you. Walking a little way down the wooded path you came across a man in a beanie leaning against a tree, he had small yellow wings and a scar going from his right eye down to the top of his lip. Your head snapped to Techno and you hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was Quackity! The mother fucker planned your execution!”

“Hush.” He waved you off, “money is money. If he can offer us something good we shouldn’t complain.”

“But-”

“Finally!” The man groaned stretching his arms above his head, his small wings fluttered as he pushed off the tree, “Took you long enough. Who’s your little friend?” He raised an eyebrow at your stature and you glared hotly at him, already wanting to tear his throat out.

“My partner.” Technoblade answered monotonously, “Is that important?”

“Romantically or like your bodyguard.” He snickered at the mental image of the Blood God hiring a bodyguard for himself.

“That’s none of your business.” You snapped, Technoblade’s hand squeezed your shoulder trying to calm you down.

“I suppose not.” Quackity clapped his hands together, his two golden rings bouncing off one another making a soft clicking sound, “let’s get down to business than Mr. Blade. I want the potions you have, what exactly do you want in return?”

“What can you give me?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, his hand never leaving the bag of potions at his side, Quackity tapped his chin in thought.

“Anything you desire. I came into a… a lot of money recently, a lot of people owe me a few favors. So I can truly give you anything,” Quackity smirked as you noticed Technoblade’s eye twitch, he didn’t like the sound of someone having so much power, and to be honest you didn’t either.

“Huh. well alright then.” He grunted drumming his fingers against the bag, “these favors people owe you, what exactly did you do for them?”

“Are you asking me to spill all my secrets? Techno you dog.” He purred out teasingly, “they made some bets with me and they lost simply as that.”

“What did they lose?” You asked and Quackity rolled his eyes,

“You’re a talker aren’t you?”

“Back off.” Technoblade snarled earning another eyebrow raise from the man, but you did briefly see fear flicker across his eyes. “You talk to them like that again deals off and I take another one of your teeth, understand me.”

“Understood, big guy. No hard feelings.” He held up his hands in defense his tiny wings ruffling a little bit showing off his nervousness, “Although your attitude just proves my point. You’re a brute and you’ll always be a brute.” Technoblade didn’t respond to the harassing but had a feeling you might as the pressure on your shoulder increased. Your jaw was set hard, as Quackity continued, “you truly are more monster than human.”

Oh, he did not just say that to Techno.

In one swift movement, you pulled Technoblade’s sword from its sheath at his side and drew it in front of you, pure anger flooding through your veins. Techno tried to grab the sword before you did something stupid but you were already charging at Quackity. He looked a little frightened as an ax appeared at his side, “Take it back.” You spit as metal clashed against metal, your eyes blazing with unadulterated rage, “Take it back right now. He’s so much more than that.” You swung the sword back which caused Quackity to stumble backward throwing off his rhythm,

“Bite me bitch.” Quackity snapped back attempting to regain his footing as he blocked another blow from you,

“Don’t tempt me birdie.” You sassed right back, which threw him off his game again not expecting you to come back with a retort and a nickname. You kicked him solidly in the chest and he fell flat on his ass the sword swung and the tip dug into his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously,

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” He sputtered out as you narrowed his eyes, “look I’m sorry okay, okay! My mouth gets the best of me sometimes, I’ll admit that! I’m a humble guy!” You rolled your sharp (e/c) eyes at that statement, “Look, deal still on this time I’ll throw in two gold rings yeah?” He swallowed thickly “Also all the diamond I have on me and in my enderchest.”

Turning to glance at Techno for the first time he cleared his throat looking absolutely flushed. He shifted uncomfortably and marched over to the both of you a hand resting on your lower back. Technoblade glared down at the duck hybrid,

“We don’t want your rings. I want all the money you’ve won from your deals and a god apple.”

“I don’t have-”

“Then think of it as an I.O.U. birdy.” You pursed your lips feeling Technoblade squeeze your back, “Deal?” The tip of the sword dug a little deeper into his throat,

“FUCK! Yes, yes deal!” He squawked and you removed the sword, Technoblade immediately took it from your hands shooting you a look that screamed,

‘We are talking about this later.’

Technoblade tossed the contents of the bag at Quackity and he snatched up all the potions he could shoving them into his chest. Immediately handing you the diamonds he had on him, as Quackity scurried away Technoblade didn’t remove his hand from your back. Once his yellow wings disappeared into the treeline Technoblade spun you around and pressed a kiss to your lips. It immediately stole your breath away, as you stumbled back a few steps.

“That.” He kissed your jaw, “was the hottest,” he kissed your neck next, “thing we’ve seen in a while.” Technoblade purred pressing another passionate kiss to your lips, your hands desperately tried to pull out his hair from his bun to give it a hard yank. A louder purr rumbled from his chest as he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours,

“So the voices liked my badassery too?”

“Oh yeah,” his eyes fluttered a little his breathing hitching, “god they want me to just bite the shit out of you. Mark you all over. You can’t tease them like, they’re sensitive.” You cooed softly tracing his jawline with nimble fingers,

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to them once we get home.” His eyes shot up to meet your own lidded ones, with a loud whistle he called Carl over, he scooped you up in his arms causing you to laugh loudly.

You could safely say that was the fastest you and Techno had ever gotten home.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 31: Veritaserum

186 days.

That's how long Draco had been held in the Department of Mysteries, trapped in a cell that barely left him enough room to lie down except when they came to take him out and interrogate him.

Draco'd relived the horrors of the past two years, over and over through their invasive questioning, through their digging around in his mind, through the imperious curse, and most recently through a stint of days spent with veritaserum flowing through his veins.

He heard their footsteps coming down the hallway, their voices recapping what they'd learned so far. Day 6 of veritaserum. He used his nail to scratch another line in the wall next to his thin mattress.

187 days.

Then he heard a third voice, a voice he would have recognized anywhere. "Veritaserum?" Potter asked, sounding incredulous for some reason. "But that's illegal."

"Auror Potter, I'll remind you that you're out of your jurisdiction here. You have no say in what happens or the means used to collect intelligence that is invaluable when it comes to protecting future generations."

"And," the man, whose breath always smelled stale and turned Draco's stomach, added, "There are no 'laws' during wartime when we need to catch criminals."

"The war is over," Potter replied, voice sharp and something in the pit of Draco's stomach thrilled at that.

"Out of your jurisdiction," the woman reminded.

A moment later, there was a sharp rap of a wand against the metal bar of his cell and the man called, "Let's go, Malfoy."

He stood, moving toward the door with his head down, and that was when he felt it; the crackle of Potter's magic around him like static electricity.

Draco couldn't resist looking up at that, meeting Potter's eyes. The green was blazing, he's furious and Draco wondered what (or whom) that fury was directed at. His fists were clenched at his sides, shoulders stiff.

Even with all of the obvious tension, Potter looked good, Draco thought; healthy, strong, handsome, like he had the entire world at his feet. Which, to be fair, he probably did. He wondered what Potter saw when he looked at him.

(Read more below the cut)

"Move," the woman snapped and Draco dropped his gaze from Potter, his thoughts weren't his own, not really. He couldn't afford to allow even more trouble in his mind.

He staggered down the hall, his legs feeling like they were made out of jelly, and flinched when the door to the white room opened and bright, sterile light spilled out over him. Draco made his way in and sat down in the same chair he always sat it, the shackles immediately chaining his wrists and ankles down. He fought the inevitable wave of panic as the woman walked over.

"Drink," she instructed, holding a vial to his lips.

He clenched his hands but did as he was told because it only made things worse when he didn't comply. The veritaserum flooded his mind, making his mouth feel loose and his mind feel unpleasantly open.

"Last time we talked about the treatment of muggles and muggleborns in your home under He-who-must-not-be-named, do you remember?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Today we'd like to hear about your complicity," the woman said. "We want to hear about everything that you did and that other people did to people who opposed you."

"What was it like to live in your home with He-who-must-not-be-named?"

"Horrible," Draco answered honestly, trying to keep the thoughts and memories at bay as long as he could. "I lived like a prisoner."

"The truth!" the man demanded, even though Draco couldn't have lied if he wanted to. He drew his hand back, preparing to strike Draco and Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

Then there was a surge of magic so strong that it made Draco breathless. He waited for the inevitable pain but there was nothing and when he opened his eyes it was to see that both of the unspeakables had collapsed forward onto the table and Potter was standing in front of him.

"Malfoy," he said and the tone of his voice made it seem like it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Come on," he urged. "We don't have much time."

He reached out and Draco took his hand uncertainly. This couldn't be real, could it?

"Malfoy," Potter pleaded, "Please, we have to go."

Draco staggered to his feet and followed the other man down a winding set of hallways, through moving doors, and all manner of strange things before they reached a passage that wasn't dark and vaguely terrifying.

"Here," Potter said, handing him a vial. "It's polyjuice potion. You're going to look like unspeakable Harrison. Once you look like him, we're just going to walk straight out, do your best to look calm. As soon as we're outside I'm going to apparate us."

"Potter," he finally managed, "Why are you doing this?"

Potter looked at him then, really looked at him, "Can we talk about this later?" he asked. "I swear I'm not trying to trick you," he added. "Please. Just let me help you."

At this point, what did Draco have to lose? What could be worse than this? He took the potion from Potter's hand and quickly swallowed it down, trying not to gag at the unpleasant taste as his body shifted and changed.

"Keep your head down," Potter said, "Don't answer any questions. You'll still have the veritaserum in your bloodstream."

Draco nodded and Potter opened the door, it was like he morphed into a completely different person. He smiled jovially as he strode across the foyer, waving and greeting people every step of the way. Every eye in the room was on Potter and it made Draco's skin crawl to have attention focused so near to him.

It felt like an eternity but it couldn't have been more than 45 seconds before they were out of the door and Potter was offering him his elbow, "Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he murmured.

And before Draco could ask what the bloody hell he was talking about, Potter was apparating the two of them away. They landed in the Black Ancestral Home and Draco was shocked. And confused.

So confused.

"Hold on," Potter said. "We're not out of the woods yet. Too many people know about this place." He picked up a copy of a book called Treasure Island off the side table. "Portkey," he explained quickly, "Hold on." And then as almost an after thought, he added, "Harry Potter lives at 4 Oceanview Lane."

Draco took the other side of the book and felt the hook and tug behind his belly button as they were moved through time and space.

This time when they landed, it was in soft, soft sand, and Draco staggered, trying to catch his balance. Potter clasped his elbow to steady him, "Alright?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded, "Yes," he found himself compelled to add, the Veritaserum still hadn't quite faded from his veins.

"Come on," Potter said, giving him a gentle tug toward a little cottage just up the beach.

It was a lovely little house, lots of windows and glass doors overlooking the ocean. The walls were painted in cool beiges and light blues and white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

"Are you hungry?" Potter called over his shoulder after he kicked off his shoes and headed deeper into the house.

"Starving," Draco replied and Potter turned to look at him, frowning.

"When is the last time you ate?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. Time passed funny in there. I tried to keep track," he said, "but I don't really know."

Potter's frown deepened, "Come on. Let me show you your room," he said. "I picked up some clothes for you but we'll have to go shopping later so you an pick out what you like."

"Potter," he said as he followed the other man toward the back of the house, "I don't understand."

"You're free, Draco," the other man said. "Well, not entirely because they'll be looking for you. But you're safe here, safe with me. I won't let them find you and I won't let them take you back," he added with a firm nod.

"Potter," he called again, "This doesn't even make sense."

"Please," Potter said, as though he was well aware of how little sense this all made. "I just," his shoulders slumped a bit, "I found out they were keeping you locked up in there like," he shook his head, "Like some-"

"Criminal?" Draco offered.

"Worse," Potter said, shaking his head. "And it was wrong and no one would listen to me. So this is the best I can do," he said, gesturing at the cottage around him. "A little house in the Seychelles. No one even knows this place exists except for Ron and Hermione," he added.

"i don't understand," Draco said, leaning against the wall to support himself.

"I know," Potter said, "Just. Can you trust me for now? We can talk about it more when you're not so exhausted. Come in," he added, gesturing to the room.

Draco stepped through the door to a room with hardwood floors and white walls, with a sliding glass door that lead out into the sand and the ocean beyond. The bed was covered in soft white bedding and a door at the side of the room led to a bathroom with a proper bathtub and a shower.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

"There are some things in the drawers over there for you to wear," Potter said, sounding a touch anxious. "We'll find you things you like better whenever you're ready."

He stepped over and reached out a hand to touch the bed but pulled up short when he caught sight of his filthy hands. "This is for me?" he asked, looking over at Potter.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "There's a second room across the hall that I'm in, if you'd rather have that one, but I thought you might like to be able to see the ocean."

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Say you'll stay," Potter asked. "At least until we can get your name cleared."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen."

Potter sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe, but can we just cross that bridge when we get there?" he asked.

"Okay," Draco said because this was all so strange, everything felt surreal, but Potter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at his acquiescence.

"I'll go make us some lunch," he said quickly. "Do you want to freshen up first?"

Draco nodded, "If that's okay?"

"Yeah," Potter said, nodding, "Yeah. Anything you want." He gave Draco a little smile, "Towels are in the cupboard on the left when you go into the bathroom; there's soap, shampoo, conditioner, and the like in the shower," he added. "I'll be in the kitchen. Just shout if you need anything."

Draco watched him go, still very confused. But for the first time in a very long time, just a little bit hopeful.

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Part 2 to this story is up! Read it here.

Part 3 is up! You can read it here.

Read Part 4 here!

Part 5

Day 30: Likeness | Day 32: After Wedding Fluff

Ahh! Nonnie. I did not anticipate loving this prompt so much. I could hardly bring myself to stop writing. Thanks so much for this prompt.

If y'all want more of this story, please drop me an ask or leave a comment. I'd definitely be up for writing more if people want to read it. :)