#all the other chickens have purple eyelids

[rowlfthedog]

In this shot Gonzo is saying “I actually signed up for a seminar on mildew”

[izzywantscheesecake]

sick day-hobie brown

Today was a bad day.

You thought you had gotten rid of your sickness for good yesterday, but that was just the appetizer in the huge buffet of nausea your body was preparing especially for you.

You had begged your parents a second time to let you stay home from school, and they let you, albeit slightly skeptical about how sick you claimed to be. You hoped whatever was in you would disappear by the next day, because they told you after today they wouldn’t let you commit truancy any longer.

Nobody was in the house with you, everyone you lived with had work and their own personal things to deal with, so you had to treat yourself.

You stayed in bed all morning, not getting anything done and occasionally using your energy to get up and use the bathroom or go to the kitchen.

It hadn’t even hit you how much time had passed before it was around 3, the usual time your school ended. You wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead, annoyed about how lazy you’ve been all day even though it really wasn’t your fault.

Succumbing to your low energy, you began to feel your eyelids droop and your body relax. Just before everything went black, a sudden banging at your window caused you to jolt awake.

You shifted up in your bed, thinking the source of the noise might’ve been a squirrel or a pigeon, but a tall silhouette standing by your balcony told you otherwise.

Slowly pulling yourself out of the sheets, you walked towards your window, eyes beginning to sparkle once you recognized what was standing there.

It was your friend, Hobie Brown, from 6th form. He still had his uniform on, indicating he came to your house immediately after school ended, and he was holding about three bags, evenly spread out on each arm.

You unlocked your window, giving him access to your room, and he stepped in, his boots gruffly making contact with your wood tiled floor.

“Hey, Y/N. A little birdie told me you were feeling a bit iffy this week.”

“A bit? I’ve been bedridden all day. I only just got up to let you in,” You replied, swiftly pulling yourself under the warm sheets of your bed again.

Hobie examined you for a few seconds, before letting out a snort.

“Man, you look terrible. But not to fear, Hobie is here. And he’s brought you a whole lot of sacred scroll texts from the lost city of Atlantis.”

Hobie placed the first bag down, and took out a purple folder, which he then handed to you in a mock regal manner.

You opened the folder, and saw exactly what you expected to see in there. Three worksheets of linear algebra, and a packet containing some Shakespeare text with short response questions.

“Wow, thanks. My maths and literature homework.”

“I know, I’m amazing, right? Tell me why when I went to collect your work from maths, the teacher said she didn’t even think I attended school anymore.”

“Well, that lady’s always been quite senile. But then again, you’re constantly skiving so I also can’t blame her for thinking that. What’s in the other bags?”

“Some gifts.”

He opened the second bag, and you were delighted to see a pack of Cadbury chocolate bars, accompanied with a teddy bear and other various confectionaries.

Just as you were about to go all in, he stopped you.

“Wait. Have you eaten any real food all day?”

“No.. I’ve just been laying here.”

“I thought so.”

He opened the third and final bag, which was chicken broth, some spices, and a pack of noodles.

“Why did you..”

“I’m going to make you soup, silly. Consider me your private nurse.”

“You have too much free time. I’ll be fine, just go home.”

“Mmm, no. Any road, direct me to your kitchen. I’ve only ever seen your room.”

“It’s down the hall to the left. But I can show you, just follow m-”

You made a few attempts to stand up, and every time you did, Hobie would just gently shove you back onto the bed.

“Nuh uh. You stay here, let me take care of you.”

Eventually, you realized it was no use trying to fight him and you felt yourself sinking deeper down into the bed as you listened to him cook in the kitchen, humming some tune you’ve never heard of.

After maybe 30 minutes, Hobie re-entered your room with a tray of soup accompanied by tea. Also on the tray was a thermometer you assumed he must’ve stolen from your bathroom.

He gently placed the tray of food down, grabbing the thermometer and setting it closer to your lips.

“Okay, now open your mouth.”

“You’re serious about this nurse thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Now say, aaah,” He replied.

You opened your mouth and closed it once the thermometer was in. The both of you waited about a minute, before Hobie pulled it out of your mouth and examined the temperature.

“Holy shit, 38 degrees celsius. You’re burning up, Y/N.”

You shrugged as he put the thermometer down on your bedside table and picked up the tray of food, placing it gently in front of you.

“Start eating this while I get you a warm towel.”

The broth of the soup was better than expected, probably because Hobie also added additional seasoning. The tea was also good, you could taste a hint of honey which was helpful for your sore throat.

Hobie came back with the warm towel and placed it on your forehead to relieve congestion.

For the next hour, the two of you sat together, laughing and joking. Hobie told you about the latest drama at school that you’ve missed, and also talked about things he did over the weekend.

It was a very simple conversation, but you enjoyed it a lot, Hobie really had a way of making uninteresting things interesting.

Suddenly, you heard the sound of a car pulling up to your driveway, and immediately snapped your head up to check the time on the clock.

It read, “16:46.”

“Hobie, you gotta get out of here. My parents didn’t want anyone to show up to the house today.”

He quickly nodded, cleaning up as much as he could before unlocking the window. Before he jumped out, he gave you a glance.

“And don’t forget, that’ll be £150.”

You scoffed jokingly. “I said, get out of here.”

He smirked, before jumping out the window and taking off down the street.

As soon as Hobie was out of the picture, you heard your room door open, and your parents walked in.

They questioned the soup and tea on the counter in the kitchen, and you told them you had started to feel better, and made it for yourself.

Today might’ve actually been a good day.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Nancy waited for her sister patiently at the bottom of the stairs, but she was taking longer than she should have for someone who knows now how to get dressed herself. She was just about to go up there when Holly came bounding down the stairs, her blond hair loose around her shoulders.

"I'm ready for the mall, Nancy!" Holly exclaimed. "I put on makeup just like you would."

Nancy put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter. Holly was wearing bright blue eyeshadow that was spread across her eyelids and well over her eyebrows. It made her look permanently surprised. She had lipstick spread across her lips and around them.

"Did you look in the mirror yet, Holly?" Nancy asked.

"No, does it look bad?" Holly asked.

She couldn't help it, she burst into laughter. It caused her mother to come in from the living room.

"What is going - Oh my goodness," Karen snorted.

"Apparently, she put on makeup just like I would," Nancy giggled.

Karen picked up the polaroid from the hallway table and snapped a picture.

"Can I see, Mommy?" Holly asked, and she showed her. "Oh! I look so silly. I look like a clown."

Holly giggled and honked her nose. Nancy swooped her up in a hug and pressed a hard kiss to her cheek. Karen had snapped another picture. Nancy settled her on her hip.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up, and then I'll braid your hair," Nancy chuckled as she bounded up the stairs.

Karen dropped them off at the mall, announcing as they got out of the car that she would be running errands and that she would be back soon. Nancy scoffed as she watched her mother drive away. She knew exactly what kind of errands she would be doing. Ally told her what she saw her mother doing at the mall. . .checking out Billy like most women. Not only was it disgusting because he was an evil asshole but he was also the same age as Nancy. Honestly, his personality was too ugly for her to find him attractive. That was the difference between him and Jonathan. . .intent. It was also the fact that Jonathan actually gave a shit about his brother. Maybe that was attracted her to Jonathan in the first place. Before Nancy could venture further into her darkening thoughts, she felt a tug on her dress.

"Come on, Nancy!" Holly said.

She smiled at her sister and took her hand, deciding to enjoy the outing. Nancy and Holly went to the bookstore first, where she had to pull Holly away. She was really happy that Holly was interested in reading but she also needed to buy her shoes before lunch. The kid was outgrowing the shoes faster than she could wear them out. Of course, with the new shoes, Holly also wanted a dress to go with them. She ended up finding a purple one with flowers on it and one that's similar to hers for Nancy. They twirled in front of the mirror.

"What do you think? Should we pay for them and wear them out of the store?" Nancy asked.

"Yes!" Holly grinned.

Once they paid for them and got bags for their other clothes, they started heading towards the food court. Nancy made sure they chose a place that served chicken nuggets. While Holly loved all food, chicken nuggets were always a must with her. She was looking for a place to sit down when she spotted Eddie sitting with a couple of his friends. He spotted her, and his face brightened up at the sight of her.

"Nancy!" Eddie exclaimed, waving her over.

He had forgotten that his legs had been wrapped around the chair, and in his hurry to jump up, he stumbled to the ground. His friends burst into laughter. Nancy giggled.

"You want to meet my friend Eddie?" Nancy asked Holly.

"Yeah, he looks funny!"

Carrying their baskets and their bags, they wandered over to the table. Eddie dusted himself off and stood up. He smiled when they arrived at the table.

"Nice face plant, Eddie," Nancy said.

"I meant to do that," Eddie said.

"If your purpose was to kiss the floor," Nancy said, and his friends laughed. "Then yeah, you succeeded."

"Nancy Wheeler, these are my friends Gareth and Jeff," Eddie introduced. "They're also in Hellfire and in my band, Corroded Coffin."

"Oh. You didn't tell me you were in a band," Nancy said.

"You didn't tell her you were in a band?" Gareth asked him mockingly.

"Our band?" Jeff asked, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"And who's this little lady?" He asked.

"My sister, Holly," Nancy introduced.

"Hi, Mr. Eddie, we got matching dresses!" Holly said.

"I see that. You guys look like a couple of pretty princesses," Eddie said.

"Who also fights dragons!" Holly exclaimed.

"Well, would a couple of princesses who fight dragons want to sit with us?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, you aren't scary," Holly said as she plopped down in the seat next to him while Nancy sat on Holly's other side.

"I'm not? Well, that's a first," Eddie said.

"You're fluffy like a teddy bear," Holly said. "Eddie! Teddy!"

"I think that name is sticking, man," Jeff said with a snicker.

"Am I scary?" Holly asked.

"Oh, yeah, very," Eddie said with a gasp and clutched his chest, causing her to giggle. "So, what else you get?"

"The Hobbit. Nancy said I would like it," Holly said. "Our bubba, Mike, won't let us use his book."

"Oh, you're going to love it," Eddie grinned. "Why won't this Mike let you use his book?"

"Mike is an asshole," Holly said seriously, and the boys struggled not to laugh.

"Holly!" Nancy exclaimed. "You shouldn't call him that!"

"What if he is being one?" Holly asked.

"Yeah, Nancy, what if he is being one?" Eddie asked, and she glared at him.

"You still shouldn't," Nancy said.

"You call him that all the time, Nancy!" Holly exclaimed.

"Eat your chicken nuggets, Holly," Nancy said, trying to hide her amusement.

"You ladies doing more shopping after this?" Eddie asked.

"No, Nancy's going to take to me Scoops Ahoy to get ice cream, and she's got a surprise for me," Holly said.

Nancy mouthed Steve’s name over Holly's head, and Eddie grinned.

"That sounds like fun," Eddie said.

"Well, look at that. . .we've got to go," Jeff said, nudging Gareth.

"Oh, yes, we just remembered we've got that thing," Gareth said.

"We were supposed to browse the new music store after lunch," Eddie frowned.

"Well, like we said, we've got that thing," Jeff grinned.

"Teddy! Do you want to come with us?" Holly asked. "Do you know Steve? He works there."

"Oh. I know Steve. I like Steve," Eddie said.

Jeff and Gareth shared a knowing look. Nancy grinned. It looked like they suspected the same thing that she did.

"I like Steve too," Holly grinned.

"Holly, who told you that Steve works there?" Nancy asked.

"Mike," she replied.

Nancy rolled her eyes. Of course, that asshole would ruin the surprise.

"You just called him that word in your head, didn't you?" Eddie grinned and winked at her.

Nancy blushed and rolled her eyes.

"Well, we've got to go," Jeff grinned. "Have fun with Eddie."

"Teddy, you mean," Gareth said as they stood up.

"Bye, Mr. Gareth! Bye, Mr. Jeff!" Holly exclaimed.

"Farewell, Princess Holly," Gareth bowed.

"Oh, fiercest warrior and slayer of dragons," Jeff bowed. "Farewell."

Holly giggled and waved at them until she couldn't see them anymore. She sat back in her seat.

"I like them," Holly said.

"Eh, they're okay," Eddie shrugged with a grin.

"I like Jeff. He's cute, but he's too old, though," Holly said.

"You hear that, Nance? He's cute, but he's old," Eddie grinned.

"Oh God," Nancy laughed.

"Kids say the darndest things," Eddie said.

Once they were finished with their food, they started walking towards Scoops Ahoy. Holly took Nancy's hand and then Eddie's.

"So, you don't get lost," Holly said.

"Smart," Eddie said. "Metalheads like me are very well known for getting lost in malls."

"I didn't know that," Holly gasped. "Nancy, we can't let him get lost."

Nancy's heart fluttered in her chest as she watched Eddie converse happily with her little sister. He was great with her, too. His grin was so wide as he talked animatedly with Holly that he was flashing his dimples. They were very cute and suited him well. Eddie noticed her staring, and he winked at her. Nancy felt her cheeks warm.

"There it is!" Holly exclaimed. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Yes, but - " Nancy started to say.

Holly slipped from their grasps and ran ahead of them. They started running after her, but she was quick to dive between people's legs.

"Jesus! This kid is fast!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Holly!" Nancy yelled.

Suddenly, they heard her scream and they were running faster than ever. They found her lying on the floor, a large stony faced man glaring down at her. Holly's bottom lip was trembling. Nancy realized that it was the delivery guy who had dropped off the ice cream. He growled at Holly, and crocodile tears started welling up in Holly's eyes.

"I'm sorry I ran into you. I didn't mean to," Holly whimpered.

"Hey! The kid said she was sorry! Do you have anything better to do than to scare the shit out of her?!" Eddie snapped, and the man was growling at him now. "Do you understand me? Fuck off, man!"

Nancy knelt down next to Holly and pulled her to her side. The man stepped into Eddie's face menacingly. There was a flash of fear in Eddie's eyes, but he stood his ground, clenched his jaw, and stared at the man right back. When the man realized he was drawing attention from other people, he snorted and walked off. Holly pulled herself out of Nancy's arms and threw her arms around Eddie's legs.

"Are you okay, Teddy?" Holly asked. "I thought he was going to hurt you."

"I'm okay, sweetheart," Eddie said and scooped her up. "Are you okay?"

"I think I scraped my elbow," Holly said.

"Well, let's get that fixed up, shall we?" Eddie said and pulled out his first aid kit. "We can use Princess Nigel. Steve gave him to me, and I named him."

They went to the nearest bench where Nancy pulled Holly into her lap. Eddie knelt in front of her and started patching up her elbow. He stuck his tongue out while he worked.

"I'm sorry for running away, I just got excited," Holly sniffed.

"Well, you scared the crap out of me and your sister, but I think you scared Nancy the most," Eddie said softly.

She didn't realize how close to crying she had been until Eddie had said something or that she was shaking.

"I'm sorry, sissy," Holly said.

"You're okay now. That's the important thing. Always hold hands, though, okay? Promise?" Nancy asked.

"Promise," Holly sniffed. "I'm sorry too, Teddy."

"It's alright. You know, I get into accidents all the time. I'm a huge klutz which is why Steve gave me this," Eddie said as he slipped it into pocket. "I gotta say, though. You're a lot braver than I would have been. I would have shit my pants."

"Then Nancy would have to change you just like she did when I was a baby," Holly giggled.

Eddie and Nancy laughed.

"You know, since you got injured in the line of duty, I think this little warrior deserves a piggyback ride," Eddie said and turned around.

Holly cheered as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He snorted like a pig and started walking with Nancy, who was gazing at him fondly.

"Teddy! Always hold hands, remember?" Holly asked.

Eddie grinned and held out his hand towards Nancy, wiggling his fingers at her. Nancy blushed and took his hand. Somewhere along the way, their fingers slid together. When they entered the parlor, Holly immediately jumped down from Eddie's back and started running towards the counter. Steve ran out and met her halfway, scooping her up.

"There's my girl!" Steve exclaimed.

"I missed you!" Holly squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I missed you too, pumpkin," Steve said.

"I like your outfit," Holly said.

"I like yours," he replied.

"It matches Nancy's outfit," Holly stated proudly.

"I see that," Steve laughed. "But you know what it needs?"

He took off his hat and plopped it down on her head. She giggled madly.

"How do I look?" She asked.

"Better than I do in the hat," he said. "What have you been up to? Catch me up."

"Me and Teddy almost got eaten by a troll!" Holly exclaimed.

"Okay, I'm a little lost," Steve said.

Nancy watched with a smile on her face as Eddie and Holly both recounted the story in their own adorable way. She loved the way that Holly lit up with both of them. Looking at Steve with Holly, she knew without a doubt that she was still in love with Steve, but there was also something else stirring for Eddie as well. As she looked at both of them, she knew she couldn't put them through what she put Steve through, especially since she could recognize that Steve and Eddie were starting to like one another. She couldn't come between that, and she couldn't mess it up for Holly. If only there was a way for her to be with both of them. Her eyes slid to Robin's, who was now looking at her with wide eyes. It looks like she figured it out, too. Robin slowly raised her hands and gave her two thumbs up. Nancy didn't know what that was supposed to mean. She ignored it and sat down to enjoy some ice cream with the three of them, pushing aside the warm feelings of affection in her stomach.

Chapter Six

[neo-culture-mafia]

Mafia!NCT 127 Reaction to You Coloring Their Tattoos

Hyuck + Mark in the Dream Reaction

not proofread yet

[ posted 09 / 10 / 2020 ]

Taeyong

He had no hesitation letting you color his tattoos. "Have fun, babe." He pinched your cheek and relaxed under the big tree you were both sitting under. Today was a cool and relaxing day as Taeyong had thrown all his plans away to be with you all day.

The dragon on his bicep was now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of neon yellow creeping up his shoulder. "So, besides today, how have you been lately?" His gaze swayed from you to the inside of his eyelids as he was drifting to sleep slowly. "Okay, I suppose. Work is annoying." You laughed and his heart twinged with love. "My students are definitely taking advantage of the wedding to slack off with their work." You chuckled and Taeyong took notice of the cool metal ring that laid on your left hand. It had never looked more magical than right now. The wedding was a fairytale story to think about in another time and place. It was the talk of the town. There wasn’t a reason the students shouldn’t be talking about it.

"They're kids. They're going to goof off for a while." He laughed and looked down at his arm. The color stuck inside the lines and stained your hands wildly. Your yawn brought his attentive eyes to your sleepy frame. "Tired, already?" He laughed as you could only shrug with a sheepish grin stuck on your face.

"Come here. Let's just rest for a little bit then." He pushed the markers into the grass and his arm wrapped itself around your waist as he pulled you down and into his side. You couldn't fight it as your ear was filled with the sound of his mellowing heartbeat. His fingers danced in your hair and danced along the curves of your cheekbones till he knew you were fast asleep.

He stayed awake just looking at your angelic features as the sight of his multi-colored arm shifted his focus. It was so meaningless to you but he loved it as he knew that it came from your heart and mind.

It was you-- perfect.

Taeil

"If I have to sit through one more of these stupid underboss meetings then I swear I'm going to go ballistic-" Taeil cut you off with a laugh. "I don't want caviar and fancy fish with wine! I want chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs with a coke!" You whined as he walked in the bedroom, one hand shoving the dress shirt underneath the hem of his dress pants.

"I know, cutie. Just a couple more meetings this week then I promise I'll take a week off and we can go and take a vacation." He pulled your hands and guided you to the bathroom where an elegant dress hung on the hooks of the door. Matching with Taeil was something you looked forward to with events like these. Yet, the event itself was throwing you off.

You got dressed and stared at yourself in the mirror. The thin red spaghetti straps danced on your shoulders as it contrasted with your dark black tattoos. The heels were uncomfortable as they carried you through the door and to the base meeting house.

You sat between Taeil and Johnny who decided to come alone and without his wife. 'lucky bitch' you thought. Taeil's hand protectively gripped the inside of your thigh. The stares of the foreign feeling underbosses littered across the room. Their aura made a shiver go down your spine as Taeil read out the news from Neo Culture's territory.

Your hand rested on top of his as your thoughts drowned out your husband's usually sweet voice. You traced the tattoos on his hand lightly with your finger. You grabbed an extra pen from Johnny's seat place and started to add onto Taeil's tattoos. The red and blue inks clashed with each other even though they laid right by one another.

Taeil gripped your wrist harshly to get you to stop but the spiteful feeling sparked in your head. You grabbed his hand with your other hand and forced it on your lap. You continued drawing and coloring the shapes and words with a vengeful attitude coursing through your veins.

A break was reached and all the underbosses were dismissed from the meeting room to the dining room where food was going to be served. Yet, once the room was cleared he grabbed your wrists once more. "What the hell are you doing?"

You automatically started to pout as you deemed that this wasn't fun anymore. "I was just trying to get your attention." You mumbled as you got up and walked out of the big wooden doors. Taeil sighed and took a deep breath. He looked down to see hearts of blue and red around your initials he had tattooed on his thumb. Tiny cartoon characters danced across his hand and he realized he was overreacting.

He got up to go after you and caught you walking slowly to the dining room. He came up behind you and slipped a hand on your lower hip. "I'm sorry, baby." Taeil sighed and kissed your cheek warmly.

You shook your head and leaned into him. "No, I shouldn't have kept going when you said to stop. I'm sorry." You confided as you both turned into the room where everyone was already seated. "Here, how about this," he whispered. "Eat a little bit of food then me and you can go out for burgers after everyone leaves." He said and the look on your face gave him the energy to get through the next hour and a half.

"Really?" You asked and he nodded. You grabbed his face and gently kissed his cheek. "Now you have my seal of approval." You laughed as you rubbed the faint mark of lipstick off of his face.

You sat down ready to shove down the nasty fish eggs and wine that was about to be served.

Johnny

Nobody understood how Johnny got you to be his wife. Everyone thought that the differences would've drowned out the connection. Yet, anybody who doubted was silenced when they spent an hour with you both. The strongness of Johnny seemed minimalized whenever you walked into the room. It was quite magical.

You and Johnny sat on the 127 squad jet, bound towards New York where you both would be staying for 3 months for protection. The family was threatened with the wives and partners coming under the harshest threats.

Johnny took you and didn't look back. You were working an 18-hour shift at the hospital and he came with no warning. Just grabbed you and left.

Jaehyun and his wife were on the way to Connecticut while Mark and his girlfriend were on their way to New York too. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun were to meet in New York in their respective spaces to set out a plan of action. After that, Mark would spend a month in New York, then go up to Toronto, spending his last months in Vancouver. Johnny is splitting the trip up into half in New York, the rest in Chicago. Jaehyun was taking his chances by staying in Connecticut. Yet, he said he wouldn't hesitate running West if needed.set out a plan of action. The sudden news threw you off guard.

You sat with Johnny in the back of the plane in dead silence. "I'm scared." You admitted. "Why?" He asked as he turned his phone off and threw it on the table in front of both of you.

You curled up on the couch next to him, latching onto his arm protectively.  "Nothing is going to happen, sweetie." He came up to twirl your hair calmly as your heart started to race more. It was too quiet.

"Here, let's find something to do." He sighed and stood up, rummaging through the closets and storage of the plane. In a moment he returned with a pack of markers. "No paper." He frowned and sat back down with a tired sigh.

You reached forward to bring the thin cardboard box into your hands. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back as you pulled the markers out and twirled them in-between your fingers.

You looked to him to see his head leaned back and eyes shut. You grabbed his suit jacket and tugged. His head snapped up and it took him a minute to understand what you were getting at. "Oh." He sighed and shook the material off of his torso.

A simple t-shirt had been hidden underneath his blazer as you laid your eyes on his tattoos. He didn't have any hesitation as he rolled up his already short sleeves and got comfortable.

He was preoccupied with his phone as you hummed to yourself. You traced the sunflower in green and made tie-dye art on his forearms. Johnny was content with the silence and the fact he knew that you were okay and occupied.

"Wanna listen to some music, babe?" He asked as he opened his music app. "Duh." He clicked the playlist you had made for him and laughed as he watched you sing terribly into the marker. He studied your figure and facial expressions as you got caught up in coloring again. "This dragon is now going to have whiskers." You nodded but stopped quickly. "Or a mustache?" You looked at Johnny and he shrugged. "He'd look cute with some whiskers." You took the idea and plopped whiskers on the face of the dragon.

An associate who tagged along for the trip came into the back room with refreshments for the two of you. You both gladly accepted and were left alone again. "Gummy bears?" These are perfect. He threw the package at you but it went untouched as you kept drawing.

He could only laugh to himself as he opened the package for you and pulled a singular bear out. Johnny held it to your lips and was happy to you take it without much thought. You finally were happy with your artistic decisions and showed Johnny the finished piece.

"It's so nice, y/n!" He smiled and it felt like your brain was mush. You sat next to him with a content smile and a small yawn.

"Tired already?" at which you could only shrug as a response. "Then let's just watch some videos and relax." He kicked his feet up and pulled you so you were on his lap.

Johnny's phone played random videos as you latched onto him and went to sleep. He took some photos to set as his wallpaper and ultimately decided to join you in a nice nap.

(rrruuudddeee)

~~~

Yuta

"Yuta!" You called as you stepped into the large house. "I believe he's in the gazebo or his office, Miss." One of the worked associates greeted you at the front door. He grabbed the bags from your arms as you bowed politely. "Thank you so much." You were off towards the back of the house to find your husband.

"Yuta-!" You called as you rounded the corner of the house and into the back yard. The gazebo that laid just beyond the wood bridge that sat above the koi fish river-- was empty. You stopped and stared for a moment. You were sure that this is where he'd be.

"Up here, my love." A voice made you jump as you looked up to see Yuta at his office balcony. "Oh. Hi!" You waved as his eyes squinted in a smile. "How was your day out?" He asked as he brought his teacup up to his lips. "It was wonderful! I have something to show you!" You called and held up a small shopping bag in your hand. "I'll be right up!" You raced back into the house and up the stairs to where he already stood waiting for you in the doorway to his office.

"What's so amazing that you found today?" His eyebrow raised and you opened the bag quickly. "But first-" He interrupted you as he grabbed your face gently and gave you a passionate kiss. "What's this for?" You asked as he continued to stare at your face lovingly. "Just happy to see you is all." He smiled as his hands found their way into his pockets.

"Now, show me." He motioned to one of your hands that was stuck in the bag you held. You were brought back to reality and pulled the plastic package out of the bag.

"...Markers?" He asked and his tone of voice made you laugh. "Not just any markers. They're tattoo markers. They're safe for the skin." You corrected him and he rolled his eyes. "You're still on this?" Yuta asked with an amused expression. "Of course I am! This was the deal." You said shoving them into his hands so he could inspect the box.

He read the back and he had to admit...you were right.

"You said I could color your tattoos IF I found tattoo markers. Safe for the skin and everything!" He knew you did it...and that he had to hold up his part of the deal. "Okay fine." He sighed as he handed the package back. "Yay! Thank you!" You jumped and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"We can do it later before dinner." He agreed and watched you skip happily down the hall.

---- "Finally! You take forever." You sighed as you moved your sunglasses up your nose. The grass tickled your bare legs as Yuta sat next to you. "I couldn't help it. Taeyong didn't want to hang up the phone." You stood on your knees and moved behind Yuta. Your hands gently rubbed his shoulders as his head fell in an exasperated manner.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Yuta. But, I called you out here for the deal. Not a massage." He whined as he flopped down on the grass, his t-shirt lifting on his back. His head rested on his folded arms as you silently cheered.

"If this stains, I will make sure to throw out all color in your life. Your life will be a dull kaleidoscope-" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, you big baby." You laughed and opened your pouch full of the tattoo markers.

You lifted the back of his shirt more till the full picture was revealed. A full mural was printed on his back with black ink that curved and straightened out into different objects. A dragon with demons following was the full picture...a dark reality...that you were going to make colorful.

You sat on his lower back and got to work filling in the different parts of the dragon. Every once in awhile he would spasm and try to make you mess-up. Yet, with a tug on his hair, he would become limp and obedient again.

"I'm almost done." Was the phrase that almost made him weep with joy. "Finally." He let it slip and he felt a tug on his hair again. "Ow." He rubbed his head. He could feel you draw and move the felt-tipped weapons on his back.

"Finished." You cheered and grabbed his phone to take a picture. You showed it to him and ombre scaled decorated the dragon with the demon's faces were colored red and blue. It looked nice. He saw a couple of smiley faces hidden in there and felt like everything looked complete.

"Okay, my turn now!" He yelled and grabbed your arm. He pulled you to the ground and grabbed the black marker that was in your hand. "Yuta, no." You tried fighting him. "This wasn't apart of the deal." You thrashed but he pinned you under his body weight. "Excuse me? Sorry, I don't speak Japanese." His Korean rambled off quickly from his tongue. You decided to just deal with it as he took his time drawing a mustache on your face along with random doodles he could think of.

He finally stopped his antics and took a picture with his phone to look at afterward. "You look so cute, look!" He pulled up the picture and shoved it in your face. "I look gross man!" You ridiculed but he wrapped you up in his arms quickly,

"My gross man."

Doyoung

"I thought they were going to be here already." You whined as your head hit the wall behind you. "Oh, can you stop whining for once?" He groaned as he took off his bulletproof vest. The air seemed to be getting thinner as the seconds ticked past. He stretched his legs out so they touched the opposite wall of the tiny bank vault. The velvet flooring seemed sticky as it felt like your chest was getting heavier.

You stood up and went to the closed door. Kicking and banging seemed like the only viable option. You pounded and kicked as hard and as much as you could with no luck. Tears stained your eyes as you turned around to look for another option out of here. "It's getting smaller." You whispered and Doyoung took the opportunity. "You're right, y/n. I can feel the walls pushing in!" He yelled and started to thrash and roll around on the ground. You could swear that the walls were shrinking and coming closer together. You dropped to the floor with your hands over your head, ready to be crushed by the vault walls.

Doyoung was pissed and vengeful in the beginning but now he just felt bad. You sat there silently crying as you rocked yourself back and forth. Doyoung sat opposite of you and just stared, waiting for you to snap out of it, yet, there was no hope as he watched you bring your legs closer to your chest.

He pushed your shoulder and you backed away from him quickly. "Calm down. You're wasting our air." He deadpanned. You could only nod and wipe the tears away from your eyes.

"Wanna play tic-tac-toe?" He asked and you looked around, surprised he was asking in a moment like this. "Um-" He didn't wait for an answer and grabbed your legs-- pulling you closer to where he sat.

Doyoung reached into your vest you were wearing and pulled an assortment of permanent markers out. You wiped the rest of your tears and grabbed the orange marker out of his hand. He lifted the sleeve of his long shirt and created the grid in black ink. "Wanna go first?" He asked and you took the opportunity to land an 'X' in the grid.

He followed soon after you and in no time-- he won.

Another game and another and another till no space was left. An hour had passed and you were still stuck in the bank vault.

"Fine. You win this tournament. But, I know I'll win next time." Doyoung said laying back and closing his eyes. The sweat from his bangs dripped down the side of his face.

The bottom of his shirt lifted and you could see the familiar black ink on his side. "Stop staring at me like that, pervert. I have rights." He pulled his shirt down and you let a laugh rip through your chest.

"Chill. I was just looking at your tattoo." You said and he shrugged. "What about 'em?" He asked as his eyes closed once more. "Nothing. Just looking," you sighed, "I wanted to be a tattoo artist before all of this." You motioned around the velvet interior. One eye peeked open and he looked suspiciously at your figure. "Are you any good?"

You stood on your knees and lifted your shirt so he could see the piece you were in the middle of finishing. Dragon and koi fish laid on your ribs in red ink.

"Woah." He lifted himself closer and gently touched the healing ink. "You did this yourself?" You nodded as he inspected it for a good minute.

"Give me one!" He said and shoved the red sharpie in your hand. He didn't give you time before laying on his side in a straight line. He lifted the side of his shirt and waited patiently.

You shrugged, finding nothing else better to do. He already had black ink staining his skin so you decided to add on. It was another simple dragon but it fit his character and personality perfectly.

Time seemed to slow as he tried to take a sneak peek of the masterpiece you were currently working on. He planned to take a picture later and get it done, yet, it would have to be in secret.

All of a sudden, the door popped open and cool air filled the small compartment. "Welcome back to Earth." Chenle greeted. You capped the marker and grabbed your vest as quickly as Doyoung.

You both high-tailed it out of the bank and into the street where the van was waiting with open doors. Doyoung and you jumped and rolled onto the back-ground of the van and the door was slammed shut by Jaehyun.

"Sorry about that. Jungwoo spilled Sprite on the control panel." Jaehyun explained and a guilty-looking Jungwoo sat in the passenger seat, not making eye contact.

"Woah. You got a new tattoo?" Jaehyun lifted Doyoung's shirt up more to see the red dragon you had drawn.

"Eventually."

(tf is this?? i’m not even correlating the gif with the story...because what in the actual fuck is THIS????)

~~~~~

Jaehyun

He was a very demanding man with particular tastes. You sat by yourself in your underground shop when a swarm of men came in all at once. They lead the way for a man in a sharp business suit.

I'm about to get shut down...aren't I?

He looked at you for a moment before looking around and coming towards you. "Are you the shop owner?" His voice was smooth with undertones of threatening. "Depends on who's asking," I answered honestly, "If it's for ink work or compliments: me. If you have any problems then I'll turn you over to my manager, Lucifer." You wiped down the glass counter in front of you. His chuckle rang sliced through the thick tension.

"Lucifer." You sang and made kissy noises. A long black haired cat hopped onto the glass counter next to you, hissing at the men and laying on its back. His back stretched as his paws grew long and pointy nails only for a moment. "Oh be nice, Luci." You called and picked the cat up in your arms.

"So how can we help you today?" You smiled and the man looked at you and sighed. "This will do." He called over his shoulder and you heard a bang of your shop door. Men walked around you to your workroom and began going through your papers. "Do you have any affiliations with any gangs in the local or surrounding areas?" The man asked as you dropped the cat onto the glass.

"No." You blurted and it was met with a smile. "Well, you have caught the interest of Neo Culture-" "Oh hell no." You shook your head and came around the counter. You pointed towards the staircase that was capped with the 'exit' door. "Leave." You demanded, yet, he stood still.

"I don't think you understand how this works." His smile made you shiver. "You were picked. You can't just...refuse." He motioned to the room. "You are on Neo Culture property and territory. You will work for us in exchange for a pretty...hefty amount of cash-" "And a bullet in my head if another gang comes by?" You questioned with your arms crossed over your chest. "Well, you don't need to worry about that till they show up...do you?" His reasoning made you angry.

"I just want a simple fill-in today. And if you do well, then you'll be taken care of." He went into his coat pocket and pulled out a stack of paper. "Rent, bills, groceries, and spending money. Not to mention guaranteed protection from the most feared crime family in the Asiatic continent." He smiled as he handed over the piece of paper.

You looked at it and it was of a dragon that needed to be shaded and filled in. You knew that you needed to do this...or say bye-bye to your shop and dreams.

You sighed and looked at Lucifer who sat grooming himself.

"It's all clear, sir." One of the men popped his head out of the back curtain. The man smiled at you and stuck out his hand. "Do we have a deal?" He asked and you regretted the decision as you felt your hand reach itself out in front of you. "Deal." You sighed and you lead him back to the workroom.

He made himself comfortable as he draped his jacket across the waiting chair and unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his business shirt until a blank tattoo was shown on the front section of his ribs.

You got yourself ready off of what the paper described. Black and red shading with a black streak thrown across the dragon's eyes. 1-2-7 was bent across the dragon's stomach as 5 stars surrounded the head of the dragon mimicking a crown.

"Lucifer. Out." You called and the cat meow'd before walking out of the curtain. "Want to listen to music while I work?" You asked and he shook his head 'no' as he preoccupied himself on his phone.

You worked quickly and efficiently as he didn't dare look at your work.

2 hours went by and you were done. "Finished." You said standing up and disposing of the used needles. He stood up and looked into the body-length mirror on the other side of the room. "Woah." Was all you heard.

"This is good work." He said and you awkwardly smiled while coming closer to him with saniderm and healing gel. "Take off the saniderm underwater, so I suggest a shower and apply the gel gently. Change the saniderm at the same time tomorrow then after that you can wait up to 6 days after to change." You explained as you rubbed the gel on the tattoo and stuck a big square of saniderm on his torso.

"Why, thank you,-" "y/n." You cut him off and you could see him smile as you turned away.

"Nice name." He smiled, "Thanks...I guess." You shrugged. "Well, some other members will be in for some days to come. Money has already been left under your counter." He redressed as you cleaned up your station.

"I hope to see you soon, y/n." He smiled and walked off in an eerie aura. You heard your shop door open and close.

You rested your hands on your counter and let a huge sigh escape your chest. Meow.

You looked over to see Lucifer peeking his head in.

"I know. He was really weird."

(back tf up?? in the middle of a pandemic??)

~~~~~

Jungwoo

"Stop running away from me you tree!" You leaped from the couch and onto your boyfriend's back. "No! You'll never catch me!" He tried to shake you off of him, yet, you latched onto him as tight as you could.

"Damn your koala grip." He tried to swing his body around and throw you to the ground. Your hands went to cover his eyes as you began to panic. "Quit moving so fast!" You pleaded and he stopped abruptly. You scrambled off of his back and just sat with your legs outstretched on the floor.

You looked up at him with a look that could kill. "Just let me have fun." You pushed yourself off the floor and pointed a finger in his face. "You can. Just not on me." He moved your hand away from his face.

You groaned and sat on the couch in a huff. "You're no fun, Woo." You muttered and he couldn't help but smile at your pouty nature.

"Sure. Whatever you say, cutie." He said excusing himself down the hall. You heard the door to the bedroom close and you were left alone. You were going to color those damn tattoos even if it killed you. You turned on the TV and watched some shows. 40 minutes had passed and you knew that Jungwoo had to be asleep.

You snuck to the closet by the kitchen and threw the door open to find the bucket of markers. You grabbed your favorite out of the selection and were off down the hall.

The door was silent as you swung it open quickly. Jungwoo laid passed out on top of the sheets. His arms were folded underneath his head as you watched his chest rise and fall slowly...in a serene manner...but it was too calm. Chaos and fun were needed.

Tip-toeing was your best option as you swiftly made yourself over. You watched his eyes roam the inside of his eyelids as you realized he was completely knocked out.

You crawled on your space of the bed and uncapped the marker with a slight struggle. The pop made Jungwoo's eyelids squeeze and release quickly.

Your heart was filled with a mischievous attitude as you softly traced along the stars that were placed on his inner bicep. Pinks and oranges were plopped onto his skin as he laid unconscious.

A couple of cartoon characters and messages later you were bored. "Guess you are right. I really do have the mind of a goldfish." You mused quietly as you closed the marker and shoved them off the bed.

You laid across Jungwoo's torso and rolled onto him so he could wake-up. "It's like watching a toddler, I swear." He groaned as he grabbed you and didn't let go.

"I could've sworn that coloring would've kept you busy for at least an hour." He sighed and you just looked at him as if he had grown 5 heads. "I'm not stupid, y/n. Don't look at me like that." Jungwoo laughed and pinched your cheek.

He held onto your waist with one arm as he examined what you had drawn on the other. "Awe they're so cute." He mused and you looked at your work once more.

"Can I get a tattoo?" You asked and he only looked at you. "Do what you feel is right, but please...please think it through." He sighed and held onto you with both hands.

"Deal."

(ooo...fluffy looking jungwoo)

[blackberry-bloody]

so I haven't done much original whump in quite a while, but I really felt the need to fill my own prompt (even though technically this turned into waaaaaaay more than I intended, and the tail whump is kind of an after though in this it seems.), and I really wanted to introduce my boi Dayzel officially. So Here's two birds with one stone.

@darkwarfy, @icyheart-and-friends, @seagullsausage

Contains: creepy whumper, retrained whumpee, non human/demon whumpee, angel/non-human whumper, implied prior whump, torture, choking, broken bones, loss of limbs (not graphic/ not described), humiliation (if you squint, so just in case), stress position, snarky whumpee that doesn't know how to shut up, whumpee reaching their breaking point

Dayzel's breathing came wheezy and strained from where he was unhappily seated. The ropes pinning his wrists to each if the chair's arms were starting to cut bloody red lines from his tugging, and his vision was just a little hazy from the repeated blunt force injuries to his head. Still… He looked up at the man glowering over him, a smug grin plastered quite firmly from ear to ear. He was Dayzel Infernos, and he was not about to be bested by some punk angel trying to get all high and mighty on his ass. "Look, chicken wing-" a resounding slap echoed in the room as his head snapped to the side. He clenched his jaw and slowly turned his head back to glare at the very narrowed purple eyes that had gotten much closer. "Oh wow, don't like nicknames huh? I'll keep it noted." His voice was practically dripping with a toxic mixture of venom and sarcasm as he chuckled in the man's face and spit a globule of blood at him.

The look of disgust on his face made his smirk that much more smug as he leaned forward as much as he could with his wings tied to the back of the chair. Just needing enough to close the gap. He was not impressed. "Hey bird brain, I don't know what you, or your buddies that dragged me here are thinking you're doing, but whatever it is… It's pretty fucking pathetic." His tail twitched from it's position around his leg, swaying from side to side like a snake judging the creature before it. "You're not the first person to try and "teach the evil demon a lesson", hell you're not even the first angel. I've had humans do worse than you. All you've done is smack me around a bit and glare at me." A slightly manic giggle escaped, but soon turned into a coughing fit as he had to pull back to catch his breath and relieve tension on his wings. Once he opened his eyes again, he noticed the angel's expression had changed from one of anger and disgust, to something more unreadable…

Dayzel paid the change no mind however, and continued with his taunting."I've been here many times before and not a single person… Human, angel, or otherwise has yet to make me break. None of you have any creativity. You're all so dull."

"Is that so?" The man before him finally spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, but also incredibly soft. But in the otherwise quiet room… It was practically booming.

Dayzel's eyes snapped up once more and processed the moment, his grin faltering for only a split second, and only due to the surprise. "Ah, so he can speak. Wonderful. I was starting to get tired of my own voice. Oh wait, no, that's impossible." He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and making them echo. However, he was abruptly cut off as a hand shot out and grabbed one of his horns. It didn't hurt, but it was just jarring enough to make him wince. He let out a low growl and tried to tug it out of the angel's grip. Only for the man to laugh in return, and guide Dayzel's head into an uncomfortable position looking straight up at the ceiling. "For the record. Yes. It is so. And of all the times I've been caught, this doesn't even make the top ten." He bit out. He tried to jerk his head again to make eye contact… But his head was held firmly in place.

"I see. Then perhaps it's time I showed you some of my… Creativity… Hm?" Delicate and utterly cold fingers found their way to Dayzel's fully exposed neck, and ever so gently wrapped around the skin… Before the grip became crushing hard, cutting off his airflow entirely.

Dayzel gasped and, although he tried his best to hide it… He did start to panic… As he tugged on the ropes trying to reach up and claw his hands off him. Or even shift his head so he could bite him. But neither were really options, so he was just left to slowly choke on nothingness until his vision went black.

~~~ Eventually, and ever so slowly, Dayzel could feel himself being pulled from the black void of unconsciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer seated in an uncomfortable chair, but instead was laying face down on an uncomfortable floor. The second thing he discovered was that he was indeed still restrained, despite the new position… His arms twitched behind him to try and push himself up, but was only met with stiff and sticky resistance of boring duct tape around his wrists. He had yet to open his eyes, but he still rolled them behind his eyelids. “I thought you were going to show me creative, not cliche, pigeon,” he growled out, despite the somewhat still smug tone in his voice. “Oh, don’t worry your fake red haired head, I’m getting to it. Try not to pass out before I can, ok?” The same voice as before spoke somewhere directly above him. Monotone, flat, and utterly condescending.

Dayzel’s eyes finally snapped open and he tilted his head to try and see where the angel was, “What the fuck is that-?!” He was abruptly cut off as a boot was placed securely at the base of where his wings met and weight was steadily applied. “Oh” was the only thing he could wheeze out as he struggled to take in air with his rib cage being crushed. He attempted to seem nonchalant as he felt the angel shift his weight behind him… But that was quickly thrown out the wind as he felt soft hands carefully take hold of his tail, lifting it up to get a better look. Immediately Dayzel started thrashing under him, letting out curses and threats that could put a trucker to shame.

"Oh hush, no need to get so worked up yet." Was the only reply given. Well, the only verbal reply… The twist and added pressure on the tender muscle between his wings were his other reply all it's own. The motion itself was enough to stun Dayzel beneath him, reeling from the pain. The angel, of course, took advantage of this moment and swiftly tied a cord around the man's tail before releasing him. "See? Now, up you come."

Delicate hands corded through Dayzel's blood matted hair and yanked, startling Dayzel from his daze, guiding him to be standing upright.

Dayzel gasped and heaved for breath as he stood up, wobbling ever so slightly as he did so. Although, he'd deny it with the same vigor and venom as he would anything else that might bruise his ego. His eyes were ablaze with fury. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! As soon as I can, I promise I'm going to pluck you like a chicken!"

The angel's expression remained neutral as his hand made its way up to wipe the spit off his face. "Yes… I'm quite certain you'd like to. But do please remember you brought this upon yourself sweetheart." There was no warmth, nor malice for that matter as he reached up and patted Dayzel's cheek. "Don't worry, though, I'm almost ready to leave you alone."

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" Was all he could manage to growl as he snapped his face to the side and bit down hard on the man's hand. However, instead of pulling away, or even acknowledging the red lifeblood dripping down his hand… The angel simply tsked and gave Dayzel a look of… What he could only describe as disappointment… Which was enough to startle Dayzel enough to let go.

The angel's uninjured hand shot out so fast he actually flinched as his horn was once again grabbed and his head tilted back. The angel carefully and slowly maneuvered behind him once again, and as he was still held in place, Dayzel had no idea what he was doing. "Such a shame. Your wings are actually quite beautiful you know? I was hoping to merely pin them for this… But seeing as how you want to resort to such. Brutality. I shall return the favor in kind. They should make a nice mantle piece."

Dayzel felt his stomach drop. All tough guy act and threats thrown away as fear took over his face. Actual, genuine, raw fear… "Wait, please don't-!" But he didn't even get the finish as the angel gripped tightly at the base of his wing and twisted and wrenched until the limb fell to the floor. And before he could so much as gather his thoughts… He immediately started on Dayzel's other wing, doing the exact same. That too fell with a soft thud to the floor. Dayzel never cried… And that much held up… No, through his screams, instead he was sobbing. And once his horn was released from it's crushing grip, he too fell to the floor in a heap of himself.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere. Lesson one. Fighting only ends in pain." The shifting of the voice told Dayzel that the man was once again in front of him. He didn't respond. "If you don't acknowledge me, I'll cut off your horns next."

"Fuck you." Dayzel lifted his head ever so slightly to get a look at him… Splattered with his blood across his white uniform…

The man crouched down to be closer in view. "Ah, out of threats I see. That's good. That's progress. There may be hope for you yet." He reached down and delicately pet the tufts of Dayzel's hair and the fuzz of the back of his neck. And Dayzel hated himself for being grateful for the gentle touch as opposed to pain. He merely clenched his jaw. "Unfortunately for you, lesson number two is that hope is meaningless." His hand withdraws and he stands back up to his full height, before fishing around in his pocket for something. Once found, he pulls out a tiny two button remote, one up arrow and one down arrow. He presses the up arrow.

Confused, Dayzel looked up as he heard some sort of mechanical noise, like a motor. And that's when he noticed the cord going up, that was attached to his tail… Which was seemingly being lifted by said motor.

Again, panic rushed through him as he scrambled to stand up and tried to reach the cord just below the tip of his tail… But he was still far too dazed and in pain to grab hold and undo the knot, let alone with his hands tied. He watched as the angel started walking towards the door out of the room, meanwhile his feet finally couldn't touch the ground and he lurched forward with a hiss of pain. The motor stopped, leaving the wingless demon dangling from the cord and the tip of his tail. When he looked back… The angel was gone, leaving him to his own misery. "FUCK YOU!!!" He screamed again, this time raw and full of hate, so loud that it left him once again panting for air.

~~~

It started as a sharp pain, every muscle and joint screaming at him to get down. To ease the pressure. To stop what was happening. And it lasted like that for the first little while as he struggled against the tape and spun in the air. He even tried being upside down and climbing backwards up his own tail to reach the cord. It didn't work of course, but he was desperate enough to try.

Eventually, he figured he'd try staying as still as possible to reduce the sudden jerks on his tail. But then he got lightheaded, or his legs fell asleep and he inevitably had to shift again, sparking the pain once more…

However, after a while… The pain became duller, and more muted. Still very much there and ever persistent. But his tail was slowly losing its ability to hold him up.

Finally he lost the ability to move his tail at all. It had gone a tingling sort of numb and lifeless…

He slumped, folded in half, and without the strength to hold himself facing parallel to the ground. He didn't know how long it had been, nor did he know how much longer it would be… But for the first time, he felt completely helpless.

[blushing-starker]

Another holiday one: Peter and Pepper going caroling together and they visit Tony in the workshop. The bots are wearing Santa hats

"Peter, darling, you know you can get him anything and he'll be over the moon, right? He loves you and it'd kill Tony to know this is causing you so much stress. We could always do a joint gift if that helps? After caroling, the night is ours and so is the mall."

God, what did he do to deserve Miss Potts? She has a solution for all the problems in the world, never hesitates to take what she wants and could probably kick his ass twenty different ways without breaking a sweat. Just last night, she'd cocked her head, put on a disappointed face and Peter was done, defeated, tore himself away from Tony's side at the lab to devour some freshly baked pie Rhodey had dropped by. They'd been working for hours, basically a hair's breadth away from a breakthrough, but Miss Potts didn't like her boys tinkering too long without eating.

Now she's holding his hand like it isn't serious, like it doesn't set Peter's heart aflame because this is Pepper Potts, kind and strong and witty and amazing, showing affection in a public place without shame or fear. And yeah, Tony would never be cold to him outside, but the man's a koala when you earn his trust. Peter has to practically pry the billionaire off from Pepper when the CEO has a meeting to conquer (he's dating a CEO, he's dating a billionaire, he's dating a CEO, he's dating a-

"Sweetheart, I see the gears turning in that head of yours, same as Tony. What is it, Peter?" The snow starts to fall a bit harder and they quicken their pace, catch up with Nat, Bucky and Bruce as they line themselves up before the next porch, ready to start caroling their hearts out. Who'd have thought they enjoyed the season this much?

The others didn't come because decorating the tower and baking dessert for 20 plus people took a team effort. Peter had wrapped an arm around Miss Potts' waist and swung them to the car before they were snatched up by Steve to help in the kitchen. They'd been pressed pretty close, Peter not wanting to risk hurting his, what, lover? Girlfriend? His lover's wife? Either way, he had curled around the tall woman, tried to not jostle her too much in case she got sick. It had been nice. Very nice, really.

The whole thing had lasted maybe thirty seconds so yeah. Technically, this is the first time they've had physical contact for a relatively long period of time. He's eighteen now, not supposed to be getting so hyped and nervous over something as simple as holding hands and going caroling along a snow covered neighborhood adorned with a thousand Christmas lights. But, but he's always been a romantic at heart and the neon glow is reflected off of shiny snowflakes that taste like something pure and special, his teammates are joyous, look decades younger, Bucky's cat Alpine has stubbornly decided to crisscross his ankles and Miss Potts ' is just really fucking pretty, ok?

"Peter?" He gets why Tony can submit so easily to the force of nature that is Pepper Potts ; is rather sure it has something to do with honest eyes and a gentle way of loving broken men.

"Um, you're very pretty, Miss Potts," way to go, Peter. It's a wonder he and Tony even got together when they share one brain cell and it's mainly dedicated to superhero work. Or to Miss Potts.

She softens, tugs at him until they wrap around each other and then kisses him. Light, barely there kisses on pale cheeks, his eyelids, the curve of a red nose, under an unhinged jaw. Nat shoves the team forward, says the next house will probably give them candy while winking at Peter, grins when he turns scarlet. Bucky grumbles, "it's not exactly Halloween," but she yanks the supersoldier away from them so there's some semblance of privacy present.

Miss Potts sighs, sets her chin on his head and Peter short circuits right there, is delighted by the fact that she's taller than him, vows to buy her as many heels and high boots as possible because this is extremely nice and being tucked under her is a dream come true.

"You're so nice, Pete. I don't think Tony's gonna last a month before he says he loves you, not with someone so considerate and amazing. Nat bet it'd take me three months, but right now? Tony would take one look at me and say three weeks. We've been outside for a while, how about we head back home? See if our ridiculous baby got away with sneaking to the lab?"

Oh. Oh, is he supposed to speak after that? Function when she just sent his world tumbling down in a second or two? He inhales slowly, presses his frost bitten lips to a long neck and shivers when Miss Potts laughs, sound as pure and lovely as the freshly fallen snow around them.

---:---------:----------:---------:-----------:---------:--------:---------:---

On the way back home (HomeHomeHomeHomeHomeHome), he catches sight of a pretzel stand and nearly slams them into the side of a building. Miss Potts does that thing where she chuckles almost silently and maybe it'll take her three weeks but Peter's ready to declare his love for her right then, absolutely smitten and aware of it. He wonders if this is what Tony felt when he fell for Miss Potts. Wonders if his boyfriend would tell him all about it soon enough.

Miss Potts strokes his cheek, smile this side of sharp and mischievous. "Does my boy want something?" It's a soft question with a soft touch with a not so soft look in eyes that could tear him apart any day of the week. His web snaps and they tumble down to the street, are saved by the fact there's three feet of snow by the building's back entrance and they weren't that high up.

Peter gets a pretzel from Miss Potts.

------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:-------:-

Their lover (loverloverloverlover) is, in fact, hiding in the lab. There's a neon glow here, too, wrapped around Tony as he reassembles holograms, sketches new designs for the spider suit, revises old architecture plans with the gaze of a hawk.

"Anthony Potts, you put down that hologram right now! You were supposed to help out and decorate; not adjust Peter's suit. Again." Tony jolts back, clicks his fingers and everything disappears from the lab table as if Jarvis had never brought several of the genius' secret files to life. He looks like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Peter isn't gonna let him forget this for as long as they live.

There's plenty of space on the table now so he settles there, swings his legs up and down, grins up at a fidgeting Tony. "Anthony Potts is new." A cookie tray is tucked away behind a pile of papers and it's too tempting not to snack on one even if he just inhaled a pretzel.

"I can call you Peter Potts, too, you know. Don't tease him, I know you would've been here helping Tony out if we hadn't gone caroling."

It's Tony's turn to grin and Peter's turn to flush now. Two more cookies are snatched, shoved into his face. "I kind of like that. The Potts thing. It's nice."

Miss Potts crosses over to them, wraps a finger around the one curl he can never tame and pulls on it until he's leaning on her palm with the sudden urge to never leave the lab. "I'm glad you like it, Peter. Anthony here has to go clean the dining table, but we can cuddle on the couch to warm up before seeing what's already cooked. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like your husband is being punished for upgrading your boyfriend's suit and making sure he doesn't die fighting some weird alien dog." Tony huffs, steals Dum-E's Santa hat with a pout before dragging himself up the stairs to the kitchen. "I'm saving everyone's lives, but no. I gotta see Steve butcher a Christmas tradition."

"There's nothing wrong with how Steve cooks the meal."

"Tell that to my grandmother and nanny. Even Jarvis could cook better and he doesn't have any hands." Said A. I hums in a suspiciously noncommittal way as his creator starts yelling about blood being spilled if a single stain is found in his prized kitchen.

The bots all seem to sigh in relief, roll over to bump Peter's knee or shoulder as affectionately as Alpine. He patiently fixes their elf ears and hats, rubs a few bells clean from grease and motor oil because Tony probably hadn't noticed and wouldn't notice until they accidentally stained something. Don't ask him or Miss Potts how, but Tony's children could ruin a fifty thousand dollar couch with purple paint without there necessarily being a can of paint around the lab.

Miss Potts' plan of cuddling on the couch is derailed when they hear screeching and curses pertaining to five different languages coming from above. She sighs, takes Peter's hand and he already knows she'll come up with a solution. She always did.

(Maybe it was time to explain he'd already found their gifts, twin silver rings with all their initials engraved hidden in his coat pocket.)

(And then Tony starts shouting something in Italian, Steve might be reverting to an Irish accent, Alpine hops on the dining table to pounce on the chicken, Miss Potts has to yank her husband away from the oven, Bucky's hair nearly catches on fire and yeah, he'll just show them on New Year's.)

[storytimefromthecreed]

A Night to Remember

“You didn’t have to.” Their shoulders bumped into one another as they strolled the halls of Masyaf. Their footfalls echoed off the stone, and Altair wrapped an arm around her. Public displays of affection were often reserved for the shadows, so she enjoyed him making the evening special.

“For a night like this?” Altair rose a brow, nestling close. The evening air was warm with a slight chilly breeze. He had gone all out for their three-month anniversary. Face and robes were washed, weapons were away, he’d shaved, and she knew he’d combed and oiled the curls hiding under his hood. “Just you and I tonight. No work, no troubles, no Assassins.” Altair grinned and she laughed swatting his silliness. 

“You know I don’t mind. I knew what I was getting into when I let you court me.”

“Let me?” Altair poked her side and kissed her neck. “That’s not how I remember it. Besides, I’m about to give you the best date of your life. I’m surprised you’re not showing more excitement.”

“Oh.” She grinned, “You’re getting my hopes up.” They held hands leaving the courtyard. “Where to? The tavern?”

“Yes, get your hopes up.” Altair looked over his shoulder before standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her, and burying his face in her neck. Planting a kiss there, he whispered, “I’ll always deliver, or catch you if you fall. I love you.”

Resting her head back, she kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you too.”

Remaining like so, they continued their walk, but instead of walking into the village, Altair lead her to the stables. “Now, you’re going to have to trust me for this part.” 

She’d never ridden on a horse before, but it was less terrifying sitting in front. He kept his arms around her as he guided the horse out of their home and into the starry night. The skies were swirls of velvet blues and purples, and they reached their destination. It was a larger town, bigger than she’d ever been in before. 

Dinners were being cooked, and she put her nose up and hummed. Kissing her quickly, Altair slid off the horse and lead it. “Altair,” she hummed, “that smells amazing.”

Looking over his shoulder, he flashed her a dazzling smile. “I’m glad you like it. That’s where we’re going.” All was well until they’d entered and were seated. Altair tensed when he saw them, men he’d had a run in with before. He hoped they didn’t remember him. They were drunk when they assaulted that woman and Altair had stopped them, and so he hoped the drink had blurred their vision. Unfortunately, that was not the case. When he and his love sat, Altair pat his pockets and frowned.

“Habibi, is something the matter?” She asked, concern coloring her beautiful face.

Kissing her hands, Altair sighed, “I think I forgot the coin purse with the horse. I’ll have to run out and fetch it.”

“Oh, I’ll get it.” She kissed his hands and got up. “Could use a stretch from all that riding.” 

“I love you.” Altair smiled sweetly, and when she walked out the door, he eyed the men. The fight was on. 

The first leap and threw hot tea at him. Ducking this, Altair braced himself for a tackle. He caught the first man’s waist and jabbed his elbow into his ribs before rolling, grabbing a tea pot, and smashing it on the second’s head. Ringing filled everyone’s ears, confusing them, and he threw the now flat tin at the first man’s head. Those two fell. The fourth tackled him, raising a fist, but Altair caught his neck with his legs and twisted. The man’s hands clawed at his throat, his face turning bluer. Squeezing his thighs together, Altair rolled and grabbed the nearest object to throw at the fourth man. As luck would have it, it was a chicken.

Confused, the man caught it and stared at it a moment, as if he didn’t believe a cooked chicken sat in his hands, then he heard a snap and looked to see his friend fall and Altair spring. He remembered nothing more.

The fifth and sixth men had time to grab proper weapons, knives and forks, and so Altair was wary. The one with a knife rushed him, and Altair leapt. He landed on his back and kicked his head before sparring with the fork-wielder. He snapped his elbow and twisted his hand until the fork dropped. A roar went up, and Altair looked to see the knife man charging. He pushed the fork man to him and leapt back. The two fell to the floor with a crash and lay there. 

The rest of the room stared, and Altair waved. The owner thanked him, as those thugs had been trouble for them before, and offered Altair anything. Altair took their food to go and paid for it. 

By the time she returned, Altair pushed through the door and gave her a flimsy excuse that the place was closing early but he’d gotten their food. “What happened to your coin purse?”

“It was in my other pocket.” He explained. 

Dinner was set under the night sky, and the stars their company as they spoke about life. Spicy meats and sweet treats warmed their bellies and powered their smiles. They kissed and touched the night away and Altair wrapped her in a blanket. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his beating heart, and they remained there until sleep tugged on their bones and the night air left them wanting for their bed. 

“I’ll grab the horse.” Altair wrapped her in the blanket and left her giggling.

“I can walk, you know.”

Kissing her forehead, Altair’s breath fanned across her face. “Not tonight.” He kissed her nose, her eyelids, and her lips.

“Altair!” She laughed, and he kissed her again. He loved that sound.

“What?”

“The horse?” 

“Oh, must have been distracted.” With a final kiss, he set off to retrieve the horse from the well. However, when he reached it, it wasn’t there. Knowing it was a good beast and wasn’t known to wander off, Altair followed its tracks and found many more surrounding it. Stolen! Cursing his luck, Altair jogged after them, knowing they hadn’t had made it far.

At the outskirts of the city, was the horse. Neighing against the man tugging it. Good girl, Altair thought and ran full force. There were only five of them, and he knew he’d had worse odds. Dropping to his knees, Altair took the first man off his knees. He fell to the ground, throwing sand into the air. The others stared, not understanding what was happening, when Altair leapt off the fallen man and kneed the second in the face. The remaining three leapt at once, and Altair did the single smartest thing he’d done his entire life. 

He grabbed the reigns of his trusted steed and bolted. Their cries of rage echoed behind him, and he pressed into the night. She was stargazing when he rode in, and she could read his face. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Altair took both her hands and helped her on the horse. “Don’t worry about it, but we have to get going.” Once hoisted, he hopped behind her and urged the horse on. 

“Altair, you can tell me.” She turned her head and kissed his chin. “You had that same face at the restaurant.”

“What face?” He asked innocently, “I’m just handsome, habibi.” He looked down at her and found she was no amused. Looking past his shoulder, her eyes widened, and he knew he was exposed. “I can explain.” Quickly, she picked herself up and faced him. Altair’s face went red, and he cleared his throat. “Hot, but this isn’t the time.” With a roll of her eyes, she dug into her shawl and produced a throwing knife.

Pressing against him, she whispered in his ear. “Stay steady.” And aimed. Altair gulped, feeling very flustered suddenly. A whizz past his ear and a thud sounded behind him. “Also hot,” Altair breathed into her ear, feeling very bothered. He licked his lips and she threw the second and third. When their foes fell, Altair slowed the horse and wrapped his arms around her.

Growling in her ear, kissing her neck, he was smitten. “Where did that come from?” Nipping back at him, she adjusted herself to turn around and stopped her, “Wait, maybe we shouldn’t stop this position just yet.”

“Had you asked me for help, I would’ve helped you, Altair.” She frowned, and Altair found the moment fleeing. “No weapons? Just you? That was reckless.”

“Habibi,” Altair took her hands, changing his tune completely. “I’m sorry. I wanted to give you a night without fighting and violence. I thought that if I acted like a normal man, it would be a normal night.”

“But you didn’t have to.” She retorted, “You’re not a normal man, Altair, and I didn’t fall in love with you for being a normal man. You’re more an enough for me, I just want you to be true to yourself.”

“But…” Altair flustered over his words before finally confessing, “what if that’s not enough?” Searching her eyes, he grew very somber. “What if the action and adventure is fun but you’re ready to settle down and I can’t. What if something happens that takes you away from me, or you’ve had enough and you leave and…” On and on he went until he’d worked himself up to quite a fit.

Before he could think of any worse situations, she took his face into his hands and he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath to control himself, she waited until he felt strong and he told her this by squeezing her hands. He did that sometimes, worry himself into fits of things that have yet to be or never would. “Altair, I love you. You’ve always been enough for me, not matter what stage you’re at. We’re both Assassins, we both know how the life is and agreed that it wouldn’t stop us. I’ve never wanted a normal man, or a normal life. If I did, then that would be the things I pursued. As it is,” his golden eyes found hers and he rested his forehead on her, peering into her soul, clinging on to her words. “I love you. For all the good and all the bad, and I want nothing more. Now, you’re going to be honest with me going forward, or I’ll be very upset.”

Altair sighed, “Yes, habibi, whatever you desire.”

“Good.” She gave him a kiss and began flipping herself around. “Now let’s go home. Bed is calling.”

Altair yawned, “You’re right. It’s pretty late, isn’t it.”

Looking over her shoulder, a mischievous twinkle entered her eye. “Oh, that’s not what I intended to use it for.”

Altair gulped and pushed the horse into a run, making her laugh as he did so.

[adoreyou303]

Sweet Creature (H.S. Fic)

A/N: Hey all! So so sorry for the delay in this update... so much has been going on. I’ve been working and there have been wildfires and what not... anyway... here is another chapter! I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think!!!

Chapter 7

CW: pregnancy, mentions of adoption

Light blues and pinks, and purples color the skies as the glowing sun sets behind wisps of white clouds. Instead of focusing on her music responsibilities, Melanie slowly sips on a strawberry lemonade. Her latest craving was any and everything strawberry. A fire crackles and burns in a glass fire pit in front of her. A cozy feeling sets in as her hand lazily traces along her belly. Softly, she begins humming through her strawberry-coated lips a melody. Grabbing a pen, she jots down some quick lyrics. A song, fleshed out with instruments and colorful stories, plays out in her mind. Instead of reaching for her phone to record or grabbing her guitar, she watches as the notes paint the sky above her. 

She can’t help but wonder if Harry has written any of his songs like this. It’s uncommon for him to go anywhere without his guitar, so he’s always finding excuses to play songs and strum out new melodies. In this moment of quiet, surrounded by sun and beautiful sky, she thinks of him. She remembers the first time he played his album for her. Sometimes, she’s not sure if she’s inspired or intimidated by him. Whatever it is, she wants to be closer to him. The twinkle in his eyes when he hears music… the crinkle near his eyes as he smiles. What is she thinking? Is this real or is she just hormonal? Once again, the sky fills with notes as her next song begins to take shape. 

With deadlines looming over his head, Harry’s fingers fly over the keyboard on his phone as he walks through the familiar hallways in the studio. Meetings, promo, and more promo have taken up most of the space in his mind, but if there is one thing he can rely on to take his mind off of things, it’s Mel. She texted him earlier begging him to meet her at the studio. Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he feels a tug in his chest as he hears her voice float through the door. It mingles with the soft strokes of a guitar. He doesn’t hear any other instruments, so he assumes she’s recording a track. Waiting for a break in the music, he closes his eyes and tips his head back, listening to her angelic voice. His eyes pop open as he catches a few of the lyrics. She’s singing about love… who is she singing about? Has she met someone? For the first time in a few months, Harry feels a sting in his chest that he can’t quite shake. Grabbing the door handle, he softly opens the door and steps through. 

The second he lays eyes on her, all negative feelings had before vanished. Dressed in a shirt two-sizes too big and a pair of navy sweatpants, he doesn’t think he has ever seen her look so perfect. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun with a few stray strands framing her face. Her eyes are brilliant, shining brighter than ever. His mouth hangs slightly agape as he listens to her finish recording her take. 

“Harry!” she squeals, placing her guitar on the stand. She rips the headphones off and signals him to come in. As soon as he steps foot in the booth, she flings herself at Harry. 

“Hi, love,” he chuckles, holding her close. He can feel the little swell of her belly against his torso. He wants nothing more than to run his hands over it and talk to it, but he has to remind himself they are in public. Even more so, they aren’t together. He shouldn’t overstep. 

“Did you hear it?” she asks, pulling away, but still holding tight to his forearms. 

“The song? I only heard a little. Did you get some inspiration?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I think so,” she teases, tapping her fingers against his skin. 

“Alright, let’s hear it then.” 

Harry bobs his head to the music, pinching his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. As the song comes to an end, Melanie nervously looks toward her best friend for any type of response. 

“Well?” she questions. He stands up and engulfs her in a hug. 

“You’re incredible. I love it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her head. This sent a shock through her heart. 

“I’m so glad you love it, but you know what I would love even more?” she blinks up at him. 

“What can I get you now?” he sighs. Externally, he plays annoyed, but he would do anything for Melanie. He would never get tired of fetching her things. 

“Strawberries and peanut butter,” she says, turning back towards her guitar.

“Strawberries and peanut butter? Together?” he asks.

“You can bring them separate,” she shrugs. 

“Whatever you want, darling,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be back.” 

Melanie continues recording, tweaking and retouching her song. When Harry returns, there are more people in the studio. He can tell Melanie’s is on edge by the way she squeezes her eyes shut, lashes disappearing beneath her eyelids. Between recording sessions, Harry lets himself into the booth with her snack. 

“Alright?” he asks, handing her the bag. 

“Yeah, just a little nervous,” she answers, gesturing towards the glass separating them from the rest of the team. “I’ll be better once I eat these bad boys.” 

He watches with slight disgust as she dips the sweet fruit into the sticky substance. 

“How could you do that to such a superior fruit?” he questions. 

“Mmm, this… these hit the spot,” she moans, gobbling down her snack. Shaking his head with a stupid smile on his face, he walks back out to listen to her finish up the session. 

Harry makes conversation with the sound technicians and others on Mel’s team while she continues to eat. 

“Is she eating peanut butter and strawberries?” Jonah, Mel’s sound tech, asks, confused. 

“Yes, she is,” Harry confirms. A pit forms in his stomach, hoping they wouldn’t press any further.

“Yesterday she was drinking a strawberry milkshake with chocolate mint patties,” Mike, another sound tech, chimes in. 

“That is definitely not that weird. I’ve had worse when I was in Jamaica,” Harry chuckles, remembering the severe case of munchies when Mitch offered him a few too many mushrooms at once. He pushes the memory away, keeping track of the conversation and chiming in when he needs to. She definitely can’t keep it a secret much longer. 

At the end of a long studio session, Harry wraps her jacket around her shoulders. 

“How’re you feeling lately?” he asks gently, eyeing her for any kind of reaction.

“Not bad,” she replies, tugging her coat closer to her body. Scanning around for any extra ears, Harry pulls her close. So close, he can smell the faint scent of strawberries and peanut butter mixing with her natural scent. 

“They’re noticing,” he says quietly. He feels her stiffen beneath his touch. Her eyes fall toward her stomach then the ground. 

“Did someone say something?” she asks, suddenly feeling panic rise in her throat. 

“They were commenting on your recent choice of snacks.”

“What does that have to do with anything? People eat weird things all the time,” she snaps. Taken aback by her sudden shift in mood, Harry raises his hands in defeat. 

“I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to look out for me. I appreciate it,” she murmurs, brushing a few stray hairs away from his face. His hands subconsciously find her hips, rubbing slow, soothing circles. Letting go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she relaxes into his touch. 

“How can I help?” he murmurs against her hair. Together, they hold each other in silence. A soft swaying causes her too-big shirt to ruffle against her skin. His large hands slowly make their way underneath her shirt, resting on the skin of her lower back. She could almost cry with relief the pressure his warm hands bring to her aching back. He notices the way her breath hitches as he kneads his fingers across the tense muscles, focusing particularly on spots that leave her melting further into his chest. 

“Dinner?” she suggests.

“Let’s go then.” But, neither one of them are keen on moving. They are just fine where they are, in each other’s arms. Eventually, Melanie pulls away, cheeks burning and eyes cast downward. They walk toward the door, hands intertwined, swinging with childlike innocence. 

“Have you thought of any names?” Harry asks, trying to break the silence. 

“No, why would I?” she shrugs. 

“You can’t just refer to them as ‘it’ forever. You have to call it something.”

“Whoever adopts him or her will give them a name,” she says quietly.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them your own name, if you want.”

“I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl,” she sighs, dropping her friend’s hand to open the door. 

“How ‘bout Peanut, then?”

“Peanut? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You eat peanut butter like your life depends on it. I think it’s safe to say your child will love peanuts,” he laughs, ruffling her hair. 

“What do you think? Are you a little Peanut?” she asks her belly, still hidden by an abundance of fabric. “I think the answer is Thai food.”

“Peanut it is,” Harry rolls his eyes, mentally reminding himself of her favorite Thai dish, peanut chicken. 

The two continue to walk, hand in hand, discussing their dinner plans while Jeff shuts off the lights in his office for the night. He sees Mel and Harry about to walk out the double doors when he overhears a part of conversation he was perhaps not meant to hear. He watches Harry pull the young, up and coming star into his side and press a kiss to her head. It’s well known that Harry is an affectionate person, especially toward Melanie, but something seems different. He seems more protective, more loving, more attached. What is going on between the two? Have they started dating? Different bets were placed as soon as Mel and Harry started working together, but it’s unlike the two to not communicate. Especially Harry, who is very vocal about emotional and mental health. Jeff leaves the studio that night with a strange sense of determination to figure out what’s going on with his client and the girl he views as his own daughter. 

The following day, Jeff calls for an all-teams session to hear progress on both Melanie and Harry’s tracks. They’ve presented different things, but he wants the teams to hear the songs. It always helps to have extra ears. At least, that’s what Jeff said was going on. He was actually going to try to find out what the hell is going on with Mel and Harry. 

After everyone is in the studio, Jeff calls everyone’s attention.

“Thank you for coming in on short notice. I appreciate you all. There’s actually been a change of plans. Instead of playing songs, I want to talk. As you all know, Sarah and Mitch announced exciting news at our company dinner. We’re pleased for you both, but I think there is something more pressing on our minds right now.” At this, he turns his gaze to Melanie. Hot under his stare, she shifts uncomfortably, looking for some type of reassurance from Harry. He nudges her knee with his, but keeps his hands knotted in his lap. “Mel, what’s going on? You’ve fainted at a concert, you’re barely keeping up with your deadlines, which is unlike you… Are you sick? Please, just tell us. We want to help,” Jeff pleads. 

For a second, Jeff feels a pang of guilt ripple through his chest. He isn’t her dad nor her manager. She isn’t obligated to tell him anything. All is silent in the room while thoughts churn in Melanie’s mind. Harry’s head slowly turns towards her. 

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers.

“Sorry?” Jeff questions, hoping he heard her incorrectly.

“I know you heard me,” she mumbles. Pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands and taking a deep breath, she stands on shaky legs. Harry reaches up to steady her, but she pushes his hands away. 

“The reason I’ve been… well, the way I’ve been is because I’m pregnant,” she announces, nervously fiddling with the strings of her hoodie. She avoids the looks of confusion slowly turning to looks of sympathy and horror. A sudden sniffle pulls her out of her trance. When she looks up, she sees Sarah trying to hide a cascade of tears falling from her eyes. She mutters a soft “excuse me,” to the person next to her before rushing from the room. Heads turn as they watch Mitch follow after his girl. Melanie quickly turns her head back to meet Harry’s confused eyes. What has she done?

[kezibun]

A storm of a hunt part 3

Part 1

Previous

Next

You hesitantly tell him your name, maybe he was actually just being nice?

"Huh… cool name..." He mumbles.

A waft of coldness crawls over your skin, making goose bumps rise. You can't stop the shiver that follows it.

 "Oh shoot." Papyrus sighs. "That damn heater." 

He stands up, then kicks the little heater a few times and presses the button, but nothing happens. He seems to give up on the heater and you watch him as he walks over to the box labelled torture. Your whole body is tense but you keep you're eye on him as he rummages through the box. He's looking for something that you can be sure of.

 After all this was he really going to hurt you? After what's been said? What will he find in there? What does he want? Maybe he's looking for something to tie you up with. 

 He's just playing some kind of sick game again, like everyone else in this hell hole. You shouldn't trust anyone, not even down here. You just can't especially since all you've been met with is manipulation, lies and treachery. 

Maybe now you could try to escape, slip away while his back is turned. But as you try and sit up, a sharp pain burns in your side, there is no way you're going anywhere while you're in this agony. You sit back down and instinctively hold your injuries, not that it helps. Why does everything hurt worse once you've had a minute to rest?

 Papyrus comes over with something. It looks like a big metal tin. How Is he going to hurt you with this?

He kneels on the floor, setting the tin down, he's filled it with wood and sticks. Then he snaps his fingers over it, an orange spark floats down settling on a twig, it fizzles briefly as it sets alight. The fire is slow to grow but it already feels warmer than the small space heater. The flames grow and dance as they cast an amber glow. You're mesmerised for a moment.

"Do your injuries still hurt?" His question snaps you out of it.

"Yeah, those traps did quite the number on me." You say with a nervous laugh. 

"Let me check your HP."

"Wa-"

In that second the world around goes dark, an encounter? You feel fear creep over you, this wasn't good. 

"-It…."

Damn is he going to fight you? Or just check you like he said? If this was going to be like any of the other monsters you'd encountered before? you're sure it won't be fun.

You look over to your HP. There's something weird about it, it doesn't seem right, and that makes your stomach churn with even more nerves. You don't know what's wrong but It can't be good.

 He stares at you intently for a second.

'Papyrus cheeked your stats he doesn't seem happy with what he sees.' 

It's your turn now. His name is yellow, you know what that means. You're tempted to take a peek at his stats but you really don't have the energy right now and you're pretty sure he won't appreciate it. You are definitely not up for a fight, so you choose mercy. Everything fades back to normal. That wasn't so bad.

He then just walks out, leaving you behind and alone. The only sounds that keep you company are the crackling fire in front of you and the howling wind outside. 

You sigh and huddle up by said fire, pulling the jacket around you again as you wonder what on earth he saw that he didn't like. You hope whatever it was won't get you hurt. How did you ever end up in this situation? If only you could remember.

 You feel the warmth of the fire almost wrap around you as it seeps in and you finally start to thaw. Your toes almost sting like pins and needles as the feeling starts coming back to them. 

It wasn't long though until Papyrus was back, he entered silently like he'd just appeared in the room.

He holds a brown paper bag out to you, "Eat this." 

You take the bag, inside is a donut with black icing and a purple cobweb design on top. You usually would have been suspicious of such a gift, just in case it was poisoned. But at this point you don't really care, you're just happy to get some food. All you can do now is sort of trust him right? as much as you might dislike it. What other choice do you have?

"Thanks." 

You take a bite of the donut, the first flavour you get is sugar, it's very sweet, there also seems to be a bit of a spiced flavour then you taste the weirdest thing, you're hit with a faintly meaty flavour like chicken, mixed with a slightly fishy taste? and there's a dubious crunch to it. Then following it is a sandy texture that tastes smokey, but it's all then taken over by the alcoholic aftertaste that hits next. Despite the weirdness it's actually pretty good, better than snail pie to say the least, possibly the second best thing you've eaten since falling down here, the first being that candy that kept you alive through the ruins. You finish off the whole donut.

Wait. A sudden strange feeling washes over you, you feel the urge to check your stats. Did you just level up? That's kinda mysterious but cool, why would that have happened?

He then sits in front of you.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Your wound…How's it?"

"It um... feels a little better."

"Let me check it?" He asks.

You pause and take a moment to think. "I… don't know…" Is the only reply you could conjure up.

"It's ok."

He pulls the jacket off your shoulder.

"Hey don't." You grab his wrist.

He takes your hand and moves it off his wrist with a scowl. Then he pushes your ripped top up enough to see your wound. 

You flinch as his cold phalanges brush against your skin. 

"Sorry." He mutters, but he doesn't stop what he's doing, he looks over your badly wrapped wounds.

Now that he's so close you notice how his cheekbones seem to have a faint rusty glow to them, and he's actually pretty cute. No you can't be thinking like that. He's a skeleton monster that just hunted you down in a snowstorm, and scared you half to death. Not to mention you're now in his torture shed.

"The trap had some magic that stops it healing. I'm gonna to treat it. Can I… um...?" He gestures to your injuries and you fill in the gap.

You think for a minute… Is it smart to let him treat you? Probably not. But it might be your only chance, if anything he's saying is true.

"I did a pretty shoddy job with wrapping it up didn't I? Just be careful... I'd rather not die today you know…" You mumbled. Maybe that hint was a little too obvious, you feel like you basically just yelled please don't kill me. Would it be better to just beg for your life? Would that get you anywhere? Could you let go of what little pride you have left?

"You're lucky. I... can't have you dying yet." He takes his phone out and gets a first aid kit from his inventory. "Could ya hold your shirt up?" 

You do as he asks and hold up your top, the cool air is sharp to your newly exposed skin, you can't help but shiver some more.

"You humans sure feel the cold don't ya?"

Is he trying to strike up a conversation? Or just making an oddball comment?

Either way you don't really answer him… 

And with that he quickly warms his hands over the fire before he ever so carefully unwraps your bloody makeshift bandage. You watch his every move carefully, making sure there's no foul play. He then gets out a small round pot from the first aid kit, it's white with a green symbol on the lid.

"This'll sting but it'll help."

He applies the light green cream, it has a peculiar scent that can only be described as warm and kind, but it feels like he's just rubbed nettles over your flesh, that means it's working right? For you're benefit you hope. He then wraps your wound up, it's not too tight but definitely tighter then whatever you'd managed before. He pulls his jacket back around you. 

"You should try and get some sleep." He pats your head before he sits down next to you. 

"Are you staying?" 

"Yeah. Rest. I'll stay guard."

"Why are you helping me?" You query.

"It's complicated." He huffs. "No more chit chat. Just sleep already." He pulls the hood over your face roughly.

"Ok." You yawn as you lean into the corner of the shed, the wooden wall is cold and hardly an ideal pillow but you are so tired it barely bothers you, you close your eyes and soon enough you're asleep. 

. . .

"MUTT! have you lost your mind?" 

"Hush M'lord, They're sleepin'."

"YES SLEEPING AND NOT DEAD." 

"I can't kill em." 

You open your eyes slightly, stirring awake from the commotion and loud voices. 

You see Papyrus and the other skeleton, his brother?

"Then let me at the darn human." He snaps.

"M'lord you can't." Papyrus stops his brother from getting closer.

"AND WHY NOT!?"

"I told you. I need to figure it out. Trust me."

"You're going soft, don't forget your duty Papyrus! You have a week! NO THREE DAYS! Figure out whatever the heck you need to then get rid of that pest, that rodent." He starts walking off. "If Alphys finds out, I'm dead, this will be the end of my malevolent career. The Queen will have our heads for this! YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?" He huffs as he storms out. 

You're still so tired… your eyelids are too heavy to keep open… With this new silence you can't stay awake for even a second more.

[sincerlypadfoot]

Everything Is Better With You

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Request - hi! can you please write sirius x reader where sirius got into a fight and the reader calm him down? thank you so much!

Word Count - 1746

“Last things last, anyone caught in the forbidden forest without permission or a teacher with be punished,” Dumbledore announced hitting his staff on the ground. “Enjoy your dinner!” He shouted pivoting on his feet back to his spot, just like every year food appeared on the table, revealing when empty. 

“Look at the first years, the look so amazed with everything,” Amy my best friend said pointing at the first year at the slytherin table who was looking around at everything with a smile on her face.

“Hey pumpkin,” Sirius Black said to me, coming over to the gryffindor table and sitting a couple feet down, taking some chicken into his hand and devouring it like a monster.

“Sirius Black, didn't think you would be coming back after that prank you pulled with Flitch last year,” I said to him making James chuckle at him. 

“Hogwarts can’t get rid of me, i’m invincible,” Sirius joked hitting his fists on his chest like a gorilla. “And I couldn’t leave you duh,” He smirked making me roll my eyes.

“Hey everyone is heading back to the common room, come on,” Amy said picking up a biscuit.

“I wonder what this year has in store for us, sixth year and we haven't died yet,” I joked watched the first years who left be guided by their prefects, some got lost and some we’re already showing leadership by challenging the prefect.

“What is this?” Amy whispered to me as we walked into the common room, people were screaming and laughing all over, some hanging off the rails like monkeys, other just talking in groups.

“It’s always like this, come on, no ones sitting on the couch,” I said guiding Amy to the empty couch, the quietest part of the room, not shortly after Sirius, James, Remus and Peter all walked in with their heads held up high then laughed at themselves.

“You know something about you and Sirius together seem perfect, I dont understand how he hasn't asked you out yet,” Amy whispered as we watched the four walk up the stairs and stand at the railing talking.

“I just can’t seem him liking me like that, he’s to much of a flirt, and from what i’ve heard from James, spends a hour in the bathroom in the morning just doing his hair,” I whispered making Amy burst out laughing.

“Look there's Ambrose,” Amy gushed as a seventh year gryffindor walked into the common room, he has long blond hair and blue eyes, Amy's ideal man, and the person she’ll gushed over since year one seeing him on the train.

“Hey Assrose,” Sirius yelled down from the rail, him and James walked down together and Remus and Peter said up watching them. “You gonna apologize to me for pushing me in the train this morning?” He asked intimidating Ambrose, he stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Sirius and James.

“I don’t have to apologize, you were in my way and you just didn't move,” Ambrose said walking closer to Sirius. “If anything you should apologize for not moving out of my way,” He said, making me look at Amy and fake gage making her roll her eyes at me.

“I don’t owe you anything, stay away from me for now on,” Sirius spit out turning around and walking back up the stairs with James furius.

“This is why you got disowned by your own family, no one wants you, not even your own family” Ambrose spit back out to him making Sirius stop on the stairs. James started saying something to him but Sirius turned around faster then a lightning bolt and was on top of Ambrose punching him right in the face. 

“Sirius stop!” Peter yelled as the three ran down the stairs and to Sirius pulling him off, Amy gasped behind me making me actually wanna throw up. 

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself putting my books down onto Amy and darting to Sirius. “Sirius stop come on,” I pleaded putting my hands around him and pulling him, making both of us tumble off. 

“Get off of me y/n,” Sirius said about to dart back to Ambrose but I grabbed my arm. “Let go,” He pleaded to me with tears going down his face, his nose was broken, blood coming from his mouth and his hair messed up.

“Come on Sirius, up stairs,” I angrily said helping myself up and taking his hand and dragging his half ton body up the stairs and to my room. “You really shouldn't listen to that guy, he’s just full of himself all the time,” I said to Sirius sitting the stunned boy onto my bed and grabbing my wand from my desk.

“I’m not like my family,” He whispered looking down at his bruised knuckles and bloody fingers. “I’m not,” He whimpered as tears went down his face. 

“Sirius,” I emphasized walking over to him and wrapping my arms around him, he leaned onto my shoulder as I sat down and cried, letting the emotions he kept hidden in him loose. “Your nothing like your parents, your a brave, ambitious and loving boy, Ambrose knows nothing about you, he’s just a stuck up asshole,” I said to him running my hand up his back.

“Why are you doing this?” He mumbled into my shoulder, I could feel the tears soak into my robe and drip onto my skin.

I didn't reply to him for a second, leaning my head onto his and rubbing his back a bit more. “Because I care about you, and your a good friend even when sometimes your annoying and I wanna kill you, i’d still be friends with you in a hundred years if it means that I get to hear your laugh every day and talk with you about things I couldn’t tell Amy,” I said with my heart. 

“I think I broke my nose,” Sirius said chuckling a bit, still leaning on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me. “And my knuckles,” He added.

“You did it for a good reason though, he should have just apologized and walked away,” I said running my hands though Sirius’ hair moving my head off his. “I can fix your nose and knuckles if you’d like?” I asked him. 

“Please,” Sirius asked unwrapping his hands from me and picking his head up, his face was now tear dropped, his eyes was slowly bruising and both our robes full of blood. “Bet the other guy looks worse,” Sirius joked letting out a chuckle, I got off the half of his lap I was slightly pulled on and got up to grab my wand that I placed on my dresser.

“This might hurt,” I said to him closing my spell book to refresh my memory and pointing my wand at his nose. “Episkey,” I said out loud making Sirius grab my hand as his nose went from bended to straight, inside was fixed and outside looked damaged. 

“Might hurt huh,” He said letting go of my hand and chuckling. “Knuckles,” He said to me putting both his hands up in the air, I slipped my left hand under his  hands and pointing my wand to his knuckles and repeated the spell twice for both his broken knuckles.

“All better, i’ll wash your face up, stay here,” I said to Sirius putting my wand in my pencil holder then walking to my bathroom on the other side of the room. “This won't hurt I promise, you’ll look much better after I clean your face up,” I yelled to Sirius from the bathroom, wetting a faceclothe.

“That's what you said last time,” Sirius joked to me as I walked out the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. “Thank you again,” He said as I sat back on the bed and put my hand to his face.

“Close your eyes for me,” I asked touching the face clothe to his eyelids, wiping the partially dried blood off him. “Your good now,” I cleared moving the clothe down to his cheeks then his lips that were the most bloodied.

“You think their still kissable?” Sirius asked making me stunned for a second. “My lips, you think i’ll ever kiss someone again or are they done for doctor?” He joked making me roll my eyes.

“You’ll be back to kiss girls as soon as i’m done here,” I said shaking my head taking the blood of his lips. “We’re good,” I said wrapping the clothe up and getting ready to stand up but Sirius grabbed my hand and pulling me back down.

“Thank you,” Sirius said looking at me with a smile, his eye was bruised, lips a bit swollen and his nose purpled. “For everything you know,” He said smiling.

“Your welcome Sirius, i’d do it again but don’t get in another fight, you almost gave me a heart attack,” I joked chuckling a bit.

“Never again,” Sirius whispered putting his hand on my cheek, his hand was warm from the water that was left on his hand. His greys eyes shimmered from the light from the roof glimmered under us. I felt like a magnet at that moment, attracting to Sirius, as he leaned in, I was pulled in and as our lips touched electricity ran through my body

“Your lips are still good,” I whispered when Sirius pulled away making him laugh. “You should probably go tell James and them your okay,” I said putting my head on SIrius’ shoulder and just smiling.

“Come on then, come hang out for a bit, gotta repay you somehow,” Sirius said lifting my head up with his hand and smirking at me. “Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?” He asked making my heart almost jump out of my chest. “y/n?” He asked when I did not respond.

“I would love it,” I said curling a smile. Sirius took my hand in his and walked me out of my room and to his, Ambrose was sitting on the couch with a group of guys. He looked worse then Sirius, his face was bloodied up and both eyes bruised and lip ripped right open. “Come on,” I whispered wrapping around the corner, Sirius wrapped his arm around me as we walked into his room, everyone was sitting on their beds, looking at the both of us. All I could think about is tomorrow and what Sirius had planed.

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 3 (DabixReader)

TW: Blood, Swearing.

I love this crazy psycho more than I probably should.

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Message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist~!

Taglist: @marydragneell​ @velvet-kissesss​

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Part 1: X

Part 2: X

Part 4: X

Enjoy~!

You’re consumed by fire. Blue and brilliant, igniting from every inch of your skin. You’re a beacon in the dark, a sacrifice to your own pyre as you kindle the ground into a sea of flames. They rise around you and into the sky, flickering and lapping at any inch they can devour as they grow higher and higher. You’re the eye of the firestorm, the source and the match to keep it alive. 

Wind sweeps it past your vision until it’s nothing but blue. Rain threatens in the darkening sky to dampen your fire. Your eyelids threaten to dip into your vision, to seal you off from the offering you’re displaying as the sky opens up to red droplets of blood. Rusty and murky and metallic. They ink your skin unlike any other liquid you’ve ever experienced. 

You’ve bled before. You’ve felt the dried and crusted cells on the outside of your skin. You’re akin to the feeling of them slipping through your veins as you rain down on the world. A gift to the lost, to the dying, to the scared. A blessing on two feet and trembling hands. 

But you’re tied to the burning. As your consciousness transitions from the burning figure in the middle of the storm to the one rising above the flames and among the thundering clouds, you feel it. The thick, red thread binding you to both ends of the battle between blood and blue fire. Purple bursts into life as the flames distinguish and reignite with every droplet in the sky. Raining fire down upon the blue to taint it, to change it. 

It’s the feeling of falling that jolts you awake as you feel your body start to sail below the earth and through the swirling sea of churning magenta. Is it fire? Is it mist? You lose the sight as soon as your eyes fly open and you’re looking up at the ceiling of your kitchen. 

You’re laying flat on the wooden floor, your body sore and taught as you pull yourself up. Your eyes glance over the room and you catch the every creeping darkness of night outside the windows. The pot on the stove sits full of water but cold, the vegetables still sitting on the side of the sink. 

Your head throbs painfully and you clench your teeth at the sensation of it trying to peel away. You used entirely too much energy last night. Or was it yesterday? How much time had passed from then to now? 

Your eyes catch the clock at three forty seven in the morning before they swim through pain to look at the now empty couch. 

Dabi. 

Adrenaline rushes past the pain and you surge toward the hallway. He has to be here. He can’t have left. He wouldn’t have, right? If he still doesn’t have his quirk back, why would he leave? 

You bump into something warm and solid as you scramble down the hallway. 

“Oof!” 

Arms fling to the walls to catch the fall before you and the body you ran into crash into the floor. They succeed and you dare a peek as you open your eyes to the figure holding you both up. 

“Do you mind?” Dabi huffs and you stumble backwards, bowing low as your face burns. 

“I’m so sorry! I thought you had left and I was worried-“

You stop and glance back up at the man in front of you. 

Gone is his jacket and shirt, leaving him in just his pants. They’re stitched much like his body as you trace the patterns of burnt skin and staples connecting to his pale patches of healthy skin. 

“A picture’ll last longer.” he mumbles and you avert your eyes, your face burning.

“You stayed.” you murmur back. “You’re still here.” 

“Why the fuck would I leave?” he snorts and brushes past you, back toward the living room. 

“I didn’t see you on the couch…” you turn and watch as he plops himself back down on the aforementioned couch.

“Wishful thinking, huh?” he calls from the living room, his burning blue eyes locking on your form. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“That’s not-“ you sigh and shake your head. 

Deciding against getting into this little argument with him, you shuffle toward your room instead. Your body aches with the memory of sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Your limbs are stiff with pain and you stretch to release some of the tension. 

The sound of your door closing behind you gives you a moment alone. Away from Dabi, away from the world. A moment where it’s just you and your mind. 

You rub your temples and pad over to your dresser. What are you getting yourself into? He’s a no good childish and insincere brute. And you just let him in your home? 

You did kidnap him. But was it really considered kidnapping if he had the idea first? That abandoned house from earlier was just as bad- if not worse- than you bringing him here. 

You sigh and tug off your dirty clothes. Your pant legs still have his dried blood in the fabric. It’s rusty and brown and acrid and you wince. A good soak would probably help get that out. Or seltzer water and some lemon juice. Fresh lemon juice, judging by the amount that’s stained to the threads. 

Threads.

You suck in a breath and cautiously stare at your wrist. The healing scar is still there, pulsating with the puffy red outline. But as you watch and wait for the strings to appear you notice they’ve all turned into one. The multiple tendrils of strings are all intertwined into one larger thread. It pulses with red light and shoots through the middle of the door. You know without looking who it leads to. The only person it could possibly lead to. 

Dabi. 

But why is it just one? What happened to the others? You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and try to wipe the fear from your mind. It would be easier to just pass it off as your quirk being weird but with everything that’s happened you can’t. He lost his quirk. And it’s somehow your fault. Could it be connected with the large string connecting you two? 

You’ve never focused on your quirk being attached to another person so much. Too much time had passed since your last patient was helped and you couldn’t call upon the same connection. Your quirk only lasted so long but as you scramble to remember the time limit you can’t remember if you ever looked into it. 

Damn it. This was the price to pay for using your quirk and not actually training with professionals. How much farther along would you be if you had? Probably enough to know why Dabi’s quirk was gone, at least. 

You sigh and tuck yourself into your pajamas and then into your bed. Sleep, in your bed and not on the floor, will do you wonders. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even wake up and Dabi’s quirk will be back. 

You ignore the doubt that settles in firmly at the thought. It’s unlikely it would be that simple. 

**

By the time you wake up it’s already afternoon. The light shifts through your curtains blindingly, the sun demanding entrance into your room. When your turn away from it your stomach reminds you just how long it’s been since you last ate. 

You sigh. You last ate yesterday before you went to that battlefield to help. And all that energy you’d had saved up was used trying to take away your aid from Dabi to get his quirk back. 

Shit. Dabi. 

You throw yourself out of bed and replace your pajamas with comfy sweats and a simple t-shirt. There wasn’t any chance you’d be going outside today if you could avoid it, so why dress nice just for some random brute you’d kidnapped? 

You wince at the thought. You’re going to have to find a different word to use. Kidnapped was just too sinister. You hadn’t really done it, not exactly. You were keeping him here to monitor his health. Like a patient. Yeah. 

You shuffle out into the living room and glance around the quiet apartment. Not a hair is out of place- save for Dabi, of course. He’s sleeping soundly on the couch, his entire body sprawled across the cushions messily. Soft snores emit from him and you can’t help but just stare. The man is sleeping so...soundly? Comfortably? You can’t place the word for it but it’s like he hasn’t slept in a long while. Not any real sleep. Nothing that his body needs. 

Now that you think about it, he had puked yesterday. And he didn’t eat after that as far as you know. Had he eaten before at all? Before the battle? If he had no energy and then the sudden boost of your quirk than it could be the reason his body is acting strangely. But if that was the case he’d need to eat soon. 

Has he always been so thin? Even though you can see the shape of his muscles defined in his torso and arms you still see the hints of his ribs peeking out. He must not eat all that often, then. Or he had a crazy high metabolism. 

You shuffle to the kitchen to pick up where you left off with the food. You ditch the pot and instead start with a frying pan for stir fry. It’s a shame you don’t have a Wok but the pan will have to do for now. 

As you set about cutting the vegetables and grabbing some chicken from the fridge to add that extra protein you flick your eyes to Dabi. He’s still sleeping soundly, unbothered by the slight noise you’re making. If only he was this quiet when he’s awake. It would save you more than one headache. 

You blink as he shifts on the couch, his face twitching through his slumber. 

Was he having similar dreams to the one you had? Where you were swallowed by the storm? Where you were both sides of it- although you suspected the blue fire had to be his end of it. 

Your eyes trail lazily to where your quirk binds you two. The thread is there just as it is in your own body. Connected to his chest, right where the heart should be. 

Maybe he had died… But you wouldn’t have bothered if you knew he was dead. You know you wouldn’t have. You felt the fringes of life in his soul just as you felt your own. As you had felt so many others before. Beyond your blood coming directly from your body, what was different. 

You remembered the way he drank from your arm and your face burns at the thought. The feel of his lips as he latched on to your wound and devoured the blood as if it were ambrosia. As if he needed it just as badly as he needed air, if not more than air itself. The press of his smooth lip and the burned skin of his bottom one as they brushed against you. 

Your wrist throbs at the memory. You had to push him away, after all. Did he drink too much? Was that even possible? 

The knock at your front door pulls your attention from your thoughts and you flinch. You glance at the clock. It’s only four in the evening. Who could be here? What do they want? 

You can’t let them see Dabi. You quickly shut the stove off and dash toward the couch as quietly as you can. 

“Dabi!” you hiss in his ear and he blinks a lazy eye up at you. 

“Hm.” he grunts and turns over. 

“You have to move.” 

He doesn’t respond and you shake him lightly. 

“I need you in my bedroom-“ you barely get to finish as his eyes snap back to yours and a devilish smirk crawls up his lips. 

“You want a piece of me that badly, babydoll?” he murmurs silkily and sits up slowly. His hands brush up the outer side of your thighs to your hips and you shove him away, your face bright red. 

“No you idiot!” you seethe. “Someone’s at the door. You have to hide.” 

The excitement bleeds back to boredom on his face and he sighs.

“Lame.” he grumbles but stands and grabs his jacket, heading for the back of the hallway. 

You rush to kick his boots into the closet closest to the door. The person at the door knocks again, more adamantly this time, and you take a deep breath. 

You can do this. Just gotta compose yourself. It’s just a random visitor. No one knows you took a criminal in for medical reasons. Or personal. Absolutely no one saw you. 

Right?

You open the door with an annoyed huff, doing your best to appear upset to have been interrupted. What you expect to see and what you do are two separate things. 

And who you do see surprises you. 

It’s your coworker and friend, Lively. She’s a younger girl in her early twenties with dark brown curly hair and violet eyes. She beams up at you softly from her short height and you offer a small smile in return.

“Lively, this is unexpected.” you manage and quirk a brow. “Did you need something?”

You worked at a blood bank- which among the various ridiculous double standards you knew it contained- allowed you to help in even smaller areas of society. Donating blood just makes sense when you over produce it. Working at a blood bank on top of that? Ideal. It helps you get rid of the excess build up if you don’t come across someone who needs help on the off hand AND you get to help others who do need help. Even if the blood is boosted by your quirk you still think it helps. And thus far no one has suspected a thing.

“Hey I just dropped by to give you the schedule for next month.” Lively smiles. “I know you have some time off these next couple of weeks and I wanted to make sure you knew what was coming up.”

“Oh that’s so sweet, thank you.” you smile and take the piece of paper from her. “You could have just texted me this, you know.”

“I know but I couldn’t help stopping by!” she giggles. “I wanted to tell you about the new guy I’ve been seeing. He’s a teacher~!”

Crap. Of course she’d want to gossip and chat.

“Ah, sorry.” you frown. “Do you think maybe you could just call me about it? I’m in the middle of making dinner.”

“Oh? Sure.” her smile falters but she regains it in no time. “Is it a date?” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“No.” you stay sternly, not wanting her to get any ideas. “I have to discuss some pointers of the last proposal I brought to the medical-”

“Oh, boring stuff.” she fakes a yawn and winks. “I’ll leave you to your boring night in. But text me when you’re done!” she steps down your hall and waves off. 

“Thank you, Lively!” you call back and shut the door. 

You lock it for extra measure and heave a sigh of relief. 

The silence deafens your ears as you stand completely still, your heart hammering in your chest. You hated lying. Absolutely, positively hated it. Especially to those you respect and cherish like your friend, Lively. But even she doesn’t know about your quirk and it’s better this way. Even if it hurts now. It’s better to keep her in the dark about your quirk and the villain in your bedroom.

Speaking of Dabi, your face burns at the implication he assumed when he first woke up. What was he thinking?! Why did he just assume you meant it in a sexual way?! You bury your face in your hands and groan. You’re not going to address this. You’re not going to even mention it. You need to keep things as professional between you two as possible. Well, slightly professional. Casual? You cringe as you try and find the right word but come up with nothing.

You close your eyes and turn back toward the kitchen to continue dinner. You’re just about to turn on the burner before you realize that Dabi’s still in your room. Alone. With all your things.

The thought is unsettling enough to make you dash to your room. You slide down the hall and to your bedroom door, your hand hovering over the knob. Sure, he’d shut the door to be discreet if someone actually walked into your home but what was he doing in there? What was he looking at? Or for?

Regardless if he is or isn’t looking he needs to get out of there. Now. 

You fling the door open and scan the room for the tall man only to find him sitting at your writing desk. His turquoise eyes are scanning the walls and flickering over the photos and memento’s you’ve put up. He turns to you with a bored look as he yawns and you breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going through your things. At least as far as you can tell. Everything looks to be in the same spot as it was before but you weren’t the neatest person in the world so it’s not easy to tell. 

“Did they leave?” Dabi mumbles and rests his head on his fist.

“Uhm, yes.” you swallow and force yourself to keep eye contact, ignoring the fact he doesn’t have a shirt on. “It was a coworker.”

Not that he needed to know who was at the door but you can’t stop yourself from explaining. Especially as he continues to sit in silence. He quirks an eyebrow up at you and you bite the inside of your cheek. Why is he just sitting there and staring at you? 

“And?” he presses and you blink.

“And nothing. She just dropped off my schedule for work.” you sigh and step into your room, skirting past him and toward your dresser. 

You grab your laundry basket filled with dirty clothes to pretend you came in the room to pick it up. Totally not to make sure he wasn’t snooping. Absolutely not. Actually, why even bother trying to hide it? Your bedroom is your most private space and having a stranger in here is uncomfortable. It’s normal to be anxious and suspicious. Right?

“You should probably clean yourself up.” you mumble and start making your way back to the kitchen. “You can shower while I cook some fried rice. Do you want me to wash your clothes, too? I can’t imagine they’re clean after that battle.”

Dabi stands and follows you out of the room, quiet as you ramble on.

“What? Don’t want your coworker knowing a dirty villain is in your apartment?” he scoffs and you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t want anyone to know a dirty villain is in my apartment, actually. Like I told you yesterday, I want my life to go back to normal.”

“And normal is kidnapping then caring for some dangerous stranger?” he chuckles darkly and you feel the heat from his body radiating behind you. 

He’s trying to intimidate you. Or fluster you. And you’re not going to let it work. 

“Both of us understand our agreement, yes?” you sigh, “I figure out how to get your quirk back and then you leave forever. I wouldn’t say I’m caring for you- that’s not what this is at all. I’m covering basic needs. Making sure you don’t smell like a goddamn barn animal? That’s a must. Food? Food is needed if you want either of us to have the proper amount of energy to get through this. Washing your clothes? Mandatory. I’m not going to let you sully my entire home with your filth. If we’re going to get this done as quickly as possible we’re doing it my way.”

He weighs your words for several long minutes before he brushes past you and toward the bathroom. 

“Towels?” he calls over his shoulder, raising a brow. 

“Linen closet.” you point to the door across from the bathroom. “What about your clothes?”

He opens it and grabs two towels, his face blending from bored to an amused smirk. 

“You really just wanna get me naked, don’t you?” he chuckles and meets your gaze as his hands start to slide to the waistband of his pants.

“Just leave them outside the door!” you squeak and turn away from him- much to his delight as he laughs from the hall. 

Dabi’s laugh is unusually delightful. Even though you can recognize the smooth tones of his voice like bourbon on ice, the silky notes caressing your ears with a sultry note, his laugh somehow amplifies the sensation. Goosebumps run down your body and you shiver in front of the washer and dryer. 

You try to push past it and ignore the feeling of his voice sliding down through your ears and into your mind but it reverberates like a toll of a bell. Shockwaves of it linger as you stuff clothes into the washer and listen to the sound of the shower turning on down the hall. Once your basket is empty you grab the clothes Dabi left outside of the bathroom door and dump them in with the load. You start it and turn back toward the kitchen, finally getting back to finishing cooking. 

The food hadn’t grown too cold but you hate leaving it alone for so long. It won’t taste the best but it’ll be food. The point of it isn’t it’s taste, it's the sustenance. The amount of enjoyment is secondary to its primary goal. Food is energy. Energy means you can work more with your quirk and get Dabi out of your hair. 

Yet you still feel the tug of the thread connecting you two. It’s a constant feeling deep in your bones, knotted to the essence of your soul. It’s beyond what you’ve experienced. Sure, you’ve heard about the red thread of fate but that can’t be this, right? It was probably just red because of the blood. That was the central point of your quirk! And blood is red! That’s the only reason those string things connected you two and then turned into one. Probably. 

As you finish making food the shower stops in the bathroom. You set two plates filled with fried rice at your kitchen table. You settle into your own and actually enjoy the first few bites before you nearly choke to death. 

You made the mistake of looking up as Dabi sat down across from you, water still dripping from his damp hair and down his body. He barely pays attention to you as he glances at the plate of food, his eyes scanning the steam rolling off of it. Your eyes are wide and glued to the steam rolling off of him- the patches of burnt flesh and staples holding him seemingly in one piece. Although you know it's rude to stare you can’t help yourself. Some parts of your brain short circuit and freeze all intelligent thinking. 

You don’t know what you expected him to do since you did take his clothes to wash but it wasn’t just to walk out in only a towel. It’s loosely slung on his hips, dipping lower than you’re willing to let your eyes wander. He has another towel draping over his shoulders to catch the brunt of water cascading down from his hair. 

You tear your eyes away from him before you get caught staring and focus completely on your food. Only on your food. Plate. Rice. Vegetables. Chicken. Shoveling the food into your mouth. Never once looking up. 

No wonder he made a joke about you wanting to get him naked. 

If he saw this as an issue before his shower, why didn’t he say anything about it?! You fight off the urge to snap at him for it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to you. If he gets even a hint of your flustered state you know you’ll never hear the end of it. 

“Thanks for the food.” he grumbles and you dare to meet his gaze with a solemn nod. 

You turn your eyes back down to your plate. He totally didn’t have a knowing glint in his eyes. Absolutely not. He’s clueless to this ridiculous miscommunication. 

“So,” he sighs as he picks up his utensils, “your quirk.” 

Do you two really have to talk about this now? Like, right now? Can’t it wait until later? 

“Hm.” you strain to keep your eyes on your plate. 

“Anything different today?” 

You should tell him about the threads turning into one. But you don’t even fully know what that means just yet. Then again, he could help decipher it. But what if he gets the wrong idea? 

“Actually,” you swallow the food in your mouth, “kind of.”

He waits quietly and you dare to glance up to his face. Your eyes catch slightly on his bare chest for a second longer than they should and his smirk lets you know that he caught it. 

“Oh?” he pushes, a cocky look capturing his eyes. 

“H-how it normally works, I guess, is I have these...Threads connecting me to the recipient. Before I helped you I never actually paid much attention to them. I just let the person go with the boost. But there were these threads that connected you to me and when I tried to take them back we both passed out.”

“Yesterday?” 

You nod and push your food around your plate. 

“Ye-Yes. Yesterday. When I woke up, though, I found the threads that had been there before turned into one larger piece.” 

He tilts his head as you meet his eyes. The cocky look and smirk are long gone, replaced by the neutral bored look that seems to be his norm. His gaze dips to the side as he glances at the couch. 

Was he thinking about last night? 

You debate telling him about your dream but decide against it. That was a clear message from your subconscious on how you were feeling. It has nothing to do with your quirk and this situation. It’s just a manifestation of your fears and worries. 

“I won’t try and take it away.” you burst out before he can say anything. 

His gaze flickers back to you, an eyebrow rising on his face. Questioning.

“If it makes us both pass out then it’s not good to take it away.” you murmur. “I won’t do it again.” 

“Can you add more?” 

Add more? But the only way to do that…

The blood packs in your fridge. You jolt from your chair and hurry toward your fridge, throwing it open and grabbing two packages. Just for good measure. You return to the table and step to his side, extending the bags toward him. 

“You’d have to drink more.” you say quietly. 

“Why not from the source? That’s what you did last time, right?” he glances from the blood bags to your face. 

“That could have been the problem, though.” 

“Then why go with that to begin with?” he sighs, “why not just feed me the bags?” 

“I didn’t have them.” you seethe. “Drink one.” 

“No.” he shakes his head, his eyes never breaking from yours. 

Challenging you, he stands from his chair. You keep your gaze glued to his, too determined to let his state of undress bother you. 

“Do it.” you push them to his chest. “It could fix your quirk.”

“Or it could make it worse.” he pushes them back toward you. 

“If not getting it back is the worst that can happen then what’s so bad?” you push them back toward him. 

“I want it the way you gave it originally.” his nostrils flare and you steel your nerves. 

He’s taller than you. And stronger. And more experienced in taking what he wants but you have the fact you have to willingly give him your blood on your side. He can’t just take it from you. 

He grabs the wrist you fed him from originally and turns it over to see the scar. You try and yank it away from him but it’s no use. He’s got a firm grip on you. 

“I’m getting real tired of you ordering me around.” he growls and you squirm to try and tear your arm from his hand. 

He pulls it closer to his face. 

“We don’t do this your way anymore. We do this my way. Even if that means you’re a sweating mess barely able to remember your own name. Even if I have to bleed you dry. I will do whatever it takes to take back my quirk from every last drop of blood you have.” 

“I didn’t- ugh- take it!” you snap and tug uselessly at your arm. “Let me go!” 

“No.” 

“You can’t take any drop of my blood without it being willing.” you hiss. “Bleeding me dry won’t do anything.” 

“It’d kill you.” he says coldly and you freeze. 

He wouldn’t. 

Right?

“Who knows?” he chuckles darkly, “maybe the moment you fade from this godforsaken planet I’ll get my quirk back in full. Maybe you don’t have to give it willingly. Have you ever experimented with it to know?” 

He yanks you to his chest, glowering down at you with fuming fire in his blue eyes. He examines your wrist with a glare as he shoves back your sleeve to reveal your entire arm. 

“You don’t have any idea what I do and don’t know about my quirk.” you spit. “I could choose to kill you with it, asshole.” 

“Oh, can you? Would you? You’re such a saint, aiding any poor soul bleeding before you. You can’t even stomach the thought of killing someone on purpose. The guilt gnaws at your mind, at your precious little heart. I know you wouldn’t dare. You can’t.” 

His body is burning with warmth. His hands on your arm feel like they’re about to burn your flesh down to the bone. Is he trying to summon his quirk? Or trying to roast you alive? 

“You’re content to sit idly by and let the world go to shit so long as you get to stay out of everyone’s attention. But that leaves you all alone, doesn’t it? Your coworker was unexpected but she doesn’t normally come to check on you.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words. He’s more perceptive than you have him credit ford 

“You jumped at the first sign of anyone at your door. You have few photos of you in groups, you’re not a very outgoing person. Your friends know your solitary lifestyle. How long until someone notices you haven’t said anything? Haven’t reached out? I can break you before anyone even knows you’re in trouble.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest, your breath short and panicked as his grip tightens on your arm. You can feel yourself tremble as he speaks. His voice cutting lower and lower until he’s snarling at you, inches from your face. 

“Know your place, [Name]. You’re trapped here just as much as I am. Don’t forget I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

Your name. You never told him your name. 

Your bedroom. He did snoop. 

He knows who you are. He knows your name. He knows where you work. He knows your lack of social interactions well enough to deduce you’re mostly a shut in. And worst of all?

He’s absolutely right. 

[ezrisdax-archive]

Franmaya sickfic for the bingo prompts?

for my sapphic september bingo card and also over here on ao3

~~

Franziska was awoken by the heavy thump at her door followed by a yelp and a scrambling noise that didn’t make sense to her muddled brain.

Determinedly with only the resolve a Von Karma could have she forced her bleary eyes open and made herself sit up. The room swayed as she did, making her wish to fall back into her pillows but the threat of an intruder loomed large.

Shuffling noises sounded down the hall and Franziska reached over for her phone, ready to call even Gumshoe if the situation deteriorated.

The door to her room creaked open and Franziska blinked at the sudden light, not noticing how dark her room had been until then.

“Oh! You are up!” A familiar voice said and Franziska kept blinking away the spots of light to focus until Maya Fey came into view. “Edgeworth said you were probably still sleeping, I was trying to be quiet just in case, guess I didn’t do a very good job hunh? Good thing I’m a spirit medium and not a ninja. All though…I could be a samurai I’ll bet…” Maya continued onwards, her blathering making Franziska’s head spin.

“Maya Fey.” Franziska bit out but it lacked any harshness with how raspy her voice was.

Maya winced at the noise and dug into the over large bag at her side.

“Here.” She said, pulling out a bottle of apple juice and handing it to Franziska.

When Franziska just stared at it Maya took it back and popped the lid off, handing it back.

“I am not an invalid.” Franziska bristled slightly.

“I didn’t think you were. But Edgeworth said you were feeling terrible. Guess we can’t recover from colds so fast like Nick does. All though he did say he wasn’t as good at it when he was my age.” Maya tilted her head up in thought. “Maybe we’ll get better at it then too.” She set the bag down at the door and then flopped onto the bed covers, nearly hitting Franziska’s leg in the process.

“What?” Franziska asked, taking a sip of the juice only because it was cold and soothing to her throat.

“You know, like we’ll develop a super immune system and be able to fall off bridges with only a cold.”

“I believe that is just a condition limited to Phoenix Wright.”

“He is special that way.” Maya admitted lightly, laughing.

“What are you doing here, Maya Fey?” Franziska asked after she remembered to, not because she’d been sidetracked by Maya laughing or anything ridiculous such as that.

“Oh! Well Edgeworth called our office to say you weren’t doing well, I guess spending all the time in a freezing cold temple trying to get me out wasn’t good for you after all.”

“It wasn’t even you.” Franziska muttered.

“But you thought it was me! And it’s the thought that counts!” Maya insisted. “I just wanted to return the favour so here I am, ready to help you get better! I got the key from Edgeworth, he said ‘tell Franziska not to do anything foolish’.”

Franziska scoffed. “Says the foolish fool himself.”

Maya laughed again. “He said you’d say something like that. I brought everything you need to feel better.” She stood up and walked over to her bag and began pulling things out. “Pearly made you chicken noodle soup and I brought over my Pink Princess DVDs so we can watch them together and here.” Maya pulled out a purple blanket. “My sis bought me this, it always makes me feel better.” She draped it over Franziska without another word.

It smelled vaguely like cedar and incense that Franziska suspected they burned at the temple Maya worked at, strong enough that it could get through even her clogged senses. Except it was making her sneeze.

A box of tissues was shoved in her face and Franziska took them with as much dignity she could muster.

“This isn’t necessary.” Franziska started but was waved off by Maya.

“Don’t be silly, you risked your life for me so it’s the least I can do. Besides, I hate being alone when I’m sick.”

“I am not sick.” Franziska finally denied. “It is merely…a foolish allergy.”

Maya stared at her.

Franziska stared back.

Or tried to which was hard because her eyelids felt to heavy and her head kept drooping .

“Okay…an allergy.” Maya said doubtfully. “Well, either way I’m here for you. Now where’s your TV?”

“I do not have a TV. They are for the foolish.” Franziska muttered.

“What?! You don’t have one?!” Maya groaned. “I guess I could ask Nick to bring me over his…” Maya muttered.

Whatever else she was going to say was lost as Franziska slumped back and sleep over took her again.

~~

When she woke up it was to the sound of swords clinking together, or rather how television shows assumed swords sounded.

“That is incorrect.” Franziska said groggily.

“You’re awake!”

The noise paused as Maya hovered over her, beaming down at Franziska.

“What is that foolish racket?”

“Pink Princess: Warrior of Little Olde Tokyo, episode seven, Our Swords Clash with Thunder! It introduces her sidekick, Oyster.”

“Swords do not create thunder.” Franziska said, trying to focus on what made sense which was really none of it.

“Of course they don’t.” Maya agreed. “But they do clash!”

Franziska opened her mouth for a rebuttal but her stomach grumbled. Maya scrambled off the bed she’d been lying on next to Franziska and scurried off. Franziska watched her go with confusion, wondering if perhaps her brain had just imagined this. Like a terrible painting done by one of Wright’s friends.

The paused picture on the now installed TV before her bed suggested otherwise. The pink was making her a little nauseous and she turned her head to bury into the purple blanket still covering her, a much more elegant colour.

It didn’t feel like long before Maya was back in the room, balancing a tray in her hands that she set down in Franziska’s lap. On the tray was a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a bottle of medicine accompanied by a glass of water. Franziska took the water and medicine, ignoring the Cold Killer X printed on the bottle.

She stared at the soup a little suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, Pearly made it, she’s much better at this than I am.” Maya said, noticing her staring.

Franziska started, realizing she’d been a little rude and she could see Maya twitching a little. She kept smoothing down the sleeves of her acolyte clothes and glancing between Franziska and the soup.

With a little trepidation Franziska picked up the spoon and took a bite. To her relief it didn’t taste bad though that could have been her stuffed up nose allowing her not to notice.

“See.” Maya said when she noticed Franziska not spitting it out. “Not bad right? I still haven’t really mastered that but one thing at a time. After all, I’ve got to get spirit medium-ing down first.”

“I do not believe that is a word.”

“Well are you a spirit medium?” Maya asked, her voice teasing. “Because we have our own lingo. Just ask Pearly, or I can channel my sister…”

“Please don’t.”

“Aw you only need my company, I get it.” Maya flopped onto the bed again, bouncing lightly and making soup spill over the edges of the bowl. “Oops.” She made a face. “I guess I haven’t mastered taking care of someone when sick either.”

“You are not doing a terrible job.” Franziska said idly, eating more of her soup before she lost it to Maya trying something else.

“Coming from you that means a lot, Franzy.”

“You will refer to me as Franziska Von Karma.” Franziska said and glared but was certain it lost it’s effect when she sniffled.

“Nah, that’s too long and boring.”

Franziska sputtered, her defense of the Von Karma name at the tip of her tongue.

“Besides, friends call each other nicknames.”

Franziska stopped, taken aback. “We are friends?”

“You stayed up at a temple trying to rescue me and helped Edgeworth get the trial going for Nick, I’d say that makes us friends.” Maya was fiddling with her sleeves again, her face turned away and slightly and buried in a pillow. “I thought coming over here would solidify it.”

Franziska opened her mouth and shut it with a click. “Ah.” She picked up her water and took a sip. “Very well, it would be foolish to admit otherwise I see.” She purposefully avoided looking at Maya as she said it but it was hard not to notice the glee on Maya’s face when she shot up, completely spilling what was left over in the bowl.

“Oh no, sorry Franzy!” Maya rushed to mop it up, pulling at tissues at the box. “I’ll get you a fresh one.” She took the tray and slipped out of the room without another word.

Franziska stared at the glass of water still in her hand despite the commotion.

“Friends.” She repeated, arching an eyebrow at the water.

“Did that water do something to you, are you going to question it on the stand?” Maya asked as she came back in to see Franziska still looking at the water. She set a new bowl of soup down in front of Franziska with much more care than she had previously

“Perhaps. It would certainly be better than when Phoenix Wright questioned a parrot.”

“Oh you heard about that!” Maya giggled at the memory. “Yeah we certainly seem to get some strange things happened on the stand…”

“I’ve noticed.” Franziska said drily and took the spoon once more to finish her soup as fast as she could while still portraying perfection. Which she did of course, because she was a Von Karma.

“I think it makes things more interesting. You just gotta have some fun with some of these cases.” Maya swallowed hard. “The last one was…”

Franziska watched her from the corner of her eyes, seeing Maya’s shoulders fall, and cleared her throat. “I believe we were watching…what was it again… ‘Pink Princess: Warrior of Little Olde Tokyo’.”

Maya brightened again, a much better look on her, and clapped her hands. “That’s right, you haven’t seen a full episode still! I can rewind it, don’t worry, I don’t mind watching it again. It’s really one of the best episodes. I hope they end up doing a crossover with the Steel Samurai soon, it’ll be nice to see those characters again..” Maya continued on but Franziska couldn’t concentrate much on her words.

The TV started again and Maya took her seat next to Franziska on the bed.

Franziska set her spoon down in the bowl with a clink and finished her glass of water, letting Maya reach over to set the tray on the floor despite every fiber of her being insisting that it should go to the kitchen right away. She was feeling too tired to argue it, perhaps she was a little sick after all.

“Thank you, for coming here.” Franziska said after a few moments, looking away from the TV when the colours swam in her vision too much. “It is…nice. To have friends.”

Maya looked over, grinning widely, “I’ll be here whenever you’re in town. You can even come to the village. Just don’t arrest me for murder next time.”

Franziska’s cheeks burned which she blamed on her fever and not on how Maya’s shoulder brushed against her own as Maya laughed.

“I will endeavor not to do so. Though you do seem to be caught in these cases quite a bit, Maya Fey.”

“Just Maya. And just my luck. But it’s not all bad.” Maya hadn’t moved from where she was pressing against Franziska. “I got to meet Nick and Edgeworth and Gumshoe and you.”

Franziska hummed, “You are not so bad at this, perhaps you will master taking care of someone who is…”

“Having allergies?” Maya teased.

“Yes.” Franziska said quickly and then broke off into a yawn.

“Aw you’re gonna miss the rest of the episode.” Maya was saying but Franziska couldn’t see the pout she was certain Maya was wearing, her eyes had shut without much prompting.

“Another time then, Maya Fey.”

“Just Maya!”

Franziska hummed again and let sleep take her, her head resting against the warmth of Maya shoulder.

~~

(Seven years later)

The door slammed opened making Franziska groan at the noise.

“Franzy!” Maya came in like she always did, a whirlwind of purple robes and ruckus. She stopped seeing Franziska resting on the couch and smiled softly, speaking quieter. “Well this brings back memories.”

Franziska sighed, sitting up on her propped pillows. “I am not sick, despite what Miles Edgeworth claims.”

“Uh hunh, I’ve heard that before too.” Maya came over, setting her bag down and Franziska was willing to bet there would be soup made by Pearl and Trucy in the bag.

“There had better not be any Pink Princess in that bag.” Franziska eyed it with suspicion.

“Don’t worry, this time I brought the Iron Infant: Warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo.”

“That foolish title still makes no sense.”

Maya was still snickering as she bent down to press a kiss to Franziska’s forehead.

“Maya Fey do not be so foolish yourself, you will get sick.” Franziska scolded.

“I thought you weren’t sick.” Maya shot back, ignoring Franziska’s spluttering to press another quick kiss to her cheek this time. “Besides, if I do I guess you’ll just have to take care of me.”

“If I must.” Franziska said but her tone was softened as she reached out to take Maya’s hand and squeeze it in thanks.

Maya beamed at her, a sight Franziska never tired of and then reluctantly pulled away to get set up.

She shut her eyes as Maya rambled on about the Kurain Village and Trucy’s latest magic tricks and a new defender that Phoenix had picked up. She let Maya’s voice lull her to sleep knowing Maya would still be there when she woke up.

“Hey Franzy,” Maya whispered, close enough again now that Franziska could pick up the sharp incense off her robes. “I love you.”

Von Karma’s did not mumbled so Franziska certainly didn’t as she said back, “I love you too, Maya.”

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know Maya was smiling again, as bright and happy as ever, but it did warm her to know she was the cause of it.

While she wasn’t sick and didn’t need the coddling perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she was.

[artificialqueens]

Crying In My Prom Dress (Cracker x Jujubee) - Mumu

AN: Couldn’t get the Prom Queen Fantasy runway out of my head, so I wrote something for it! Read on AO3 here.

Summary: Jujubee knows she’s not winning prom queen. Brianna makes her night better.

Jujubee is bored out of her mind. Whoever said that prom is the highlight of your life must not have had very much of a life to begin with, because Jujubee has been to basement parties better than this. Then again, school dances are always boring, so maybe she should have known.

She’s been standing at the edge of the dance floor for what feels like hours, swirling a cup of punch in her left hand. Thank the heavens the stoners had the good sense to spike it a few hours before. If not for the alcohol, Jujubee probably would have ditched by now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Shea, head thrown back in the middle of a laugh. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, with red petals clipped into her hair, her pink dress shimmering under the cheap neon lights. She looks like every little girl’s dream.

Jujubee can’t help feeling childish in her own gown, an 80’s inspired tulle number. She loved it when she first picked it out, but now, eyeing Shea’s form-fitting choice, she sort of feels like an over-decorated cupcake. Jujubee’s stomach twists watching Shea, and she chugs the rest of her punch to cover the jealousy. It’s not like Jujubee isn’t popular, or pretty, but every school has a hierarchy. For as long as she can remember, Shea’s been at the top, and Jujubee has been playing second fiddle to her. The worst part is that Shea is genuinely a good person, which makes her impossible to hate.

Jujubee checks her phone again. The screen lights up: 11:55. Five minutes until prom queen is announced, and then Jujubee can slip away and get some real food. She’s been through three cups of punch by now, and all she’s eaten all day is some popcorn because her dress has a built-in corset and she’s not about to test the universe by risking a popped zipper. Maybe her empty stomach has something to do with her sour mood. Regardless, she’s craving fried chicken really bad right now.

“Girl!” Raven stumbles over, grabbing her arm. “You look stunning!”

“Fuck, did you pregame, Rav?” It’s a rhetorical question, given the fact that the girl looks absolutely slammed. It’s a miracle the administration even let her in. “Back up a step, your breath smells like vodka and I’m not tryna get that all on me.”

“Sure did, and fuck you,” Raven giggles. “C’mon, come dance with us!”

That sounds like the last thing Jujubee wants to do, especially cause she can barely breathe in this dress, but she knows it’ll be impossible to convince Raven to let her mope around on her own. Jujubee lets herself be led into the huddle her friends have made in the middle of the dance floor, plastering on a friendly smile.

“Juju!” Shea immediately wraps her in a warm hug, talking at a mile a minute. “Where have you been? This song is such a bop! I love your dress, purple looks so good on you.”

Jujubee feels a flash of guilt, realizing suddenly that she’s kept herself isolated this whole night.

It’s not Shea’s fault, really, that she’s a shoo-in for the prom queen title. It just hurts that Shea doesn’t even care about popularity or crowns and yet she’s constantly winning those things. Jujubee doesn’t trust herself not to be a bitter bitch about the whole thing, so she’d figured it would be best to avoid Shea for the night. It would be completely on-brand for her to make some petty little jab as a way to bring attention back to herself and soothe the blows to her ego. Jujubee doesn’t want to risk ruining the moment for her best friend, no matter how rocky their relationship.

Lucky for her, Shea has the attention span of a goldfish, and the girl is already back to grooving along to whatever the DJ is currently playing without Jujubee having to answer her question. Small mercies.

“Ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention?” A voice booms from the DJ booth. Everyone turns to face it. “The time has finally come. It’s my pleasure to announce to you the nominees for this year’s Prom Queen!”

Jujubee feels the bile rise in her throat. Shea grabs her hand and she flinches at the unexpected contact.

Shea shoots a concerned look at her. “You good, girl?”

“Yeah,” Jujubee lies. “Just nervous.”

“Mhmm,” Shea murmurs. “Don’t be, yeah? We got this.”

Easy for you to say, Jujubee wants to snap. She doesn’t. Shea’s done nothing wrong. It’s not her fault that the girl is prettier and nicer and more charismatic than Jujubee can ever hope to be, and it’s certainly not her fault that Jujubee’s being a bitter Betty tonight.

“Farrah Moan!” The DJ bellows.

A light swings over to a pink-haired girl to Jujubee’s left. Jujubee thinks she remembers her from French class last year. All she really recalls about Farrah is the pounds of highlighter she came to school with every day. By the looks of it, nothing has really changed: Farrah is practically metallic under the spotlight.

Jujubee applauds politely and resists the urge to roll her eyes at the girl’s fake smile. Everybody knows Shea’s going to win. Why do they even bother announcing the nominees?

“Shea Coulee!”

Shea shifts, stepping away from Jujubee so the spotlight falls solely on her. She smiles brightly. She looks radiant, and Jujubee feels that pang of jealousy again. It’s not fair that Jujubee has had to try twice as hard to even come close to the level of popularity Shea attained during her first month here. Then again, nothing is ever fair with Shea. The girl is just god’s favourite.

The light swings away from Shea after a few seconds, falling onto Raven next, and Jujubee lets out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

“Juju,” Shea says, mistaking her envy for nervousness. “Chill. You’re an amazing person. This doesn’t define you, okay?”

Jujubee doesn’t trust herself to respond over the lump that’s in her throat and the jealousy clawing at her insides, so she just offers the other girl a soft smile and a nod.

“Jujubee Inthyrath!” The light settles on her, finally.

Jujubee tries not to squint against the brightness. She squares her shoulders, flashing her most dazzling smile and blowing a kiss into what she thinks is the general direction of the DJ booth. The direct light is blinding, and Jujubee sees green and red spots at the back of her eyelids when she blinks.

After a few counts, the light shifts back towards the DJ booth again. She tries to recenter herself, shaking her head lightly.

“Bright, right?” Shea laughs good-naturedly at her dazed expression.

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Jujubee jokes in response, swallowing over the jealousy that seems to have made a home in her throat tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” The DJ says, dragging out the last word.

God, hurry up, Jujubee wants to complain. She fixes her best ‘runner-up who’s happy for her best friend’ look on her face instead. She’s been practising her graceful loser smile in the mirror for two months, and she’ll be damned if she lets any of her pettiness show now. As much as Jujubee thrives off of attention, she knows she will never be able to forgive herself if she messes this moment up for Shea.

“Your St. Charles Prom Queen is…”

Jujubee digs her nails into her palm.

“Shea Coulee!”

Besides her, Shea gasps, face breaking into a wide smile. The awful part is that Jujubee is absolutely sure she’s genuinely surprised. Shea’s never been one to expect anything to be given to her.

She forces her fake smile even wider, hugging Shea fiercely. “Congrats!”

“Oh my god,” Shea lets out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god!”

Jujubee feels like her heart is being ripped out of her chest. She wonders if it would be suspicious to start crying. Probably, she decides. She’ll save her tears for later. Her cheeks hurt from maintaining the face-splitting grin she’s glued to her face, but she keeps it there anyways.

Shea shuffles towards the DJ, who drapes the sash around her and places a crown on her head. She still looks absolutely shocked at the outcome, tearing up a bit. Their friends gather around her, squealing their congratulations and crushing Shea in hugs.

Jujubee watches the scene unfold in front of her and can’t suppress the bitter chuckle that passes her lips. Everything is happening in slow motion. The neon lights dance across Shea’s features. Her eyes shiny are shiny with tears, and she’s slightly shaking as her hands go up to touch the crown on her head.  

Jujubee gets the feeling that all her friends are having their glorious teenage coming-of-age moment and she’s just an audience member sitting in the theatre. They’re only a few feet away, but they seem to be in a whole different world.

There’s a soreness building at the back of her throat. She has to leave, now, before she ends up having to explain why she’s crying over Shea’s win. Jujubee’s eyes dart around the banquet hall. Everyone seems to be occupied with congratulating the newly crowned queen.

Now is a good time as any, she supposes, so she slips out of the back doors and into the night air.

Jujubee takes a seat on a nearby bench, flinching at the cold steel pressing into her thighs. She shivers as a breeze blows by, suddenly acutely aware of how unpractical her dress is for San Francisco’s late-night weather.

The tears have been building all night, and now that she’s finally out of Shea’s sight, Jujubee lets them fall. Once she starts, she can’t stop, and before long she’s fully sobbing. She grinds the heels of her palms into her eyelids with complete disregard for her eyeshadow. Her hands come away a mess of glitter, mascara and pink pigment.

“Um, are you alright?” A voice asks.

She whips her head around so fast she almost breaks her neck. A girl is standing there, in a hot pink gown. Her platinum blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a voluminous updo.  Fuck. This girl fully just witnessed Jujubee having a breakdown. She sniffles, wiping at her eyes and trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Yeah, uh-” Jujubee’s voice strains on the word, and, to her horror, she feels another wave of tears coming. She opens her mouth to reassure the girl that yes, she’s totally fine, thank you so much, but ends up bursting into tears again. Her dignity is officially gone. Every bit.

“Oh no, please don’t cry!” The girl slides onto the bench next to her.

She pats Jujubee awkwardly. After Jujubee shows no signs of stopping, she just sits quietly next to her, hand still on the small of Jujubee’s back, letting her cry it out. Jujubee has never hated someone as passionately as this girl right now. Can’t she just leave her alone? This is mortifying.

The girl pulls her hand back from Jujubee like she’s been burned. Fuck. Did she say that out loud?  A sidelong glance at the girl’s hurt expression confirms her suspicions.

For what feels like the millionth time tonight, Jujubee feels guilt pooling in her stomach. This time it crawls all the way up, burning as it builds in her throat.  Jujubee half-falls off of the bench in her haste, stumbling over to the bushes. She proceeds to hurl her guts out. Well—it’s more of a dry heave, really, since Jujubee hasn’t really eaten anything in the past few hours to throw up, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The girl rushes to her side, doing her best to hold Jujubee’s hair out of her face.

Despite her condition, Jujubee still manages a sarcastic, “Just peachy, thanks.”

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, wincing as it comes away smeared with hot pink gloss. The girl helps her back to the bench, taking a seat next to her.

“I’m Brianna,” The girl offers.

“Juju,” Jujubee says.

“Wanna talk about it?” Brianna asks.

Jujubee almost snorts at her. In less than five minutes of meeting this girl, Jujubee’s managed to sob, throw up, and make a bitchy comment towards her. Brianna still wants to play therapist?

“Okay,” She says quietly, surprising herself. That was not what she meant to say, at all. But Brianna brightens considerably next to her, and suddenly Jujubee doesn’t have the heart to take it back. Besides, she sort of owes it to Brianna after being a bitch, Jujubee reasons. It’s not at all about the fact that Brianna’s kind of pretty and Jujubee needs to vent.

“Where do I even start? This night has been a mess.”

Brianna takes her hand gently. Jujubee tenses, but lets Brianna brush her fingers over her own. It’s strangely intimate. It’s also far more comfortable than it should be, given she and Brianna are complete strangers.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t comfortable,” Brianna whispers.

Jujubee feels something unfamiliar swell in her chest. She almost feels like crying again, but out of a different reason than before. She can’t really remember the last time someone was willing to listen to her feelings, nevermind being as gentle with her as Brianna is being right now.  Usually, Jujubee would scoff and call herself pathetic for even considering opening up to this girl, but something about the mess that tonight has been has made her stone-cold exterior crack a bit. She takes a shaky breath in and out.

“No, I want to,” Jujubee says. She feels the other girl’s gaze but doesn’t meet it, staring down at the crystals on her shoes instead. She worries a loose cobblestone with her left heel. “I didn’t win prom queen.”

Brianna makes some kind of shocked noise next to her. When Jujubee peeks up at her, the girl looks like she’s trying her hardest not to laugh and to stay supportive.

“You think it’s ridiculous,” She says, a touch of amusement behind her words. It’s an accusation, but there’s no bite behind it.

“No, I don’t!” Brianna shakes her head. Her updo wobbles dangerously at the movement. Jujubee quirks a brow at her, and Brianna flushes. “It’s just… you look absolutely beautiful. Why let some stupid popularity contest ruin your night?”

“Oh,” Jujubee says, slightly reeling from the compliment. “This old thing?”

Thank god for her quick wit, because otherwise Jujubee definitely would have been stammering some sort of awkward “thank you.” She’s suddenly hyper-aware of how Brianna is pressed close against her side and how their fingers are laced together in the blonde’s lap.

“It’s just, my best friend, Shea? She won, and I know it sounds terrible, but I can’t help but feel super jealous. She’s just perfect, you know? She doesn’t even have to try. And I’m just-”

She laughs self-deprecatingly, gesturing at herself, “Well. You see me.”

“Juju, don’t downplay yourself,” Brianna says. “You’re amazing.”

“How do you know?”

Brianna furrows her brow. “Oh. Oh! Uh, you don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember you?” Jujubee racks her brain for any memory she might have of Brianna. Nothing. Surely she would have recognized this barbie look-alike if she ever ran into her in school?

“Jesus,” Brianna reddens. “I must have seemed so creepy then, just coming up to you out of nowhere?”

Jujubee must still look confused because Brianna explains further. “We’ve had classes together since seventh grade. I was in your homeroom this year.”

This time it’s Jujubee’s turn to feel embarrassed. God, she’s such a bitch.

“Oh my gosh,” She buries her face into her hands. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t sweat it,” Brianna laughs. “You know who I am now, so that’s what matters, yeah?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The music leaks out of the banquet hall and wraps around them, bass throbbing. Jujubee breaths in the night air deeply. It’s always the after-party silence that she’s liked the best. That feeling of shivering in the chilly breeze and walking home barefoot, heels in hand. The atmosphere always makes her slightly nostalgic for an experience she’s never had and can’t quite name.

“Do you want to dance?” Brianna asks.

“Hmm? I like it out here,” Jujubee says. “If you don’t mind.”

Brianna smiles at her. She looks pretty when she smiles, Jujubee decides. The corners of her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunches up.

“We don’t have to go back inside,” Brianna says. “We can just dance here.”

“Oh! In that case, uh, sure!” Jujubee stammers. She’s barely gotten through the sentence before she’s mentally kicking herself. Of all the times to be socially awkward, of course it happens to her while talking to a pretty girl.

Brianna stands, brushing down the feathers on her dress. She extends a hand that Jujubee takes. Brianna’s palm is warm, and the skin-to-skin contact makes fireworks go off in her chest. Jujubee meets Brianna’s eyes tentatively, snaking a hand around the blonde girl’s waist.

She hears the song change into something slower, and Brianna guides her into a gentle sway. She can feel her cheeks flushing, and her teeth tug on her bottom lip. It’s quiet, save for the leaves crunching beneath their heels and the faint music leaking from the hall, but Jujubee doesn’t mind. It feels peaceful.

She’s always been hopeless romantic, has dreamt of slow-dancing at prom since she was five. Her younger self watched those Disney channel movies that cumulated with a girl being swept off her feet by the football captain religiously.

This is different from all of the scenes she dreamed up when she was younger. There’s no parting of the crowd, no spotlight illuminating her. There’s no crown on her head. But somehow, Jujubee doesn’t really mind.

“This is so cheesy,” Brianna laughs softly.

“This is our rom-com moment, I guess,” Jujubee agrees, grinning. “I don’t mind though.”

“I’ve liked you since seventh grade,” Brianna admits. “You walked into class with a pink streak in your hair and immediately cracked a joke that made everyone laugh.”

“You remember that?” Jujubee’s impressed. She remembers that hair. It was such a pain to have to re-dye her roots every few weeks that she’d sworn to never touch a semi-permanent colour again.

She tells Brianna this, and the girl laughs, gesturing to her updo. “You’re lucky you don’t touch your hair! I’ve been dying mine this icy platinum forever.”

“What? I totally thought that was natural,” Jujubee marvels. “What’s your normal colour?”

“It’s more of a honey shade,” Brianna explains.

Jujubee cocks her head, trying to imagine Brianna with a warm-toned colour. She’d look nice with it. “That sounds pretty.”

The song playing from inside the hall finishes, and the two girls step away from each other. Jujubee shivers, already missing the warmth of Brianna’s hands around her waist.

“Cold?” Brianna asks sympathetically.

“Yeah, my dress is fluffy but it’s still really thin,” Jujubee answers. Her stomach growls, loudly, and she flushes. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten anything in a while.”

“We can go get Denny’s if you wanna leave?” Brianna offers hesitantly. “I drove.”

Jujubee pauses at the request, considering.

“I’d like that,” She says, finally. “I think we have a few years worth of stuff to catch up on.”

“Yeah, well, conversation always flows easiest over pancakes,” Brianna says with a wink.

The action gives Jujubee butterflies. Yes, she would very much like to get to know Brianna better. Something tells her they’ll be awfully close in the future.

[fridgeine]

Just a Bad Dream

Noragami | Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family, PTSD | 1,820 Words

Summary: Yukine’s been plagued by nightmares he can never remember ever since Father cracked his name, and his suffering is hitting too close to home for Yato to deal with. He knows he should quit being selfish and let the kid go, but they’ve got gotten way past the point of no return—because Yukine wasn’t just some kid. He was Yato’s kid. How could he just give that up? 

-------

Nightmares were common for Yukine. 

It really put Yato on edge the first couple times he caught his kid jerking out of his slumber. He feared he was about to lose him—that Father had exposed another one of his shinki to God’s greatest secret. He felt helpless (still did) because he knew that it’d be nearly impossible to reel Yukine back in if he remembered too much.  

But thankfully, Yukine didn’t seem to remember anything. 

Each time Yato caught him waking up from what was an obvious bad dream, he would make sure to ask him if he wanted to talk about it. He hated having to because it felt too risky to encourage Yukine to reminisce, but he needed to know how bad things were getting. Luckily for him though, Yukine always said there was nothing to talk about because he couldn’t remember any part of it. It seemed that the memories burned up as quick as a sheet of paper in a bonfire the second Yukine woke up. 

But things were never so easy and you should never count your chickens before they hatch because everything got worse after the box. Yukine began to recall details in his dreams, details that felt like claws slicing down Yato’s back upon hearing them. They didn’t pinch his heart though or anything—to Yukine, they were practically meaningless and he probably just chalked them up to just details from Heaven’s box—not the other one—not the one Yato truly feared. 

Regardless, Yato tried his best to comfort and distract his kid. Yet, his efforts only seemed futile because the nightmares just got worse and worse, occurring almost every other night. It was getting difficult to keep up with and it was rare for even just one of them to get a good night of sleep (let alone a full one.)

But Yato would sacrifice a thousand nights if it meant Yukine got to live through one more. 

Although, there was one night in particular where Yato felt the ball drop. He wished he could say that he didn’t hesitate to catch it—but once his eyes locked on Yukine’s futon and he saw the small form under the covers thrashing back and forth like a fish suffocating on land, crying and begging into the silent night air—images of Sakura flashed across his vision and he froze. 

It felt like the end of the world. 

Of course, technically it was because Yukine was his whole world. The light that chased away the darkness in his heart. 

Ever since he met Yukine, he felt like he had a chance. The first time he met the kid’s eyes—the kid who’d eventually become his kid—he felt the wind change direction. 

In those eyes, existed a brighter, better future without calamity and darkness. And all Yato wanted to do was love, cherish, and nurture it. Make sure the two of them got the future they deserved. As a proper family with Hiyori, Daikoku, and Kofuku—and possibly even Hiiro, Ebisu, Tenjin, Mayu, Kazuma, and the crazy bitch—everybody he owed a better future to. 

But there was one thing... a shadow that lurked never too far behind wherever he went... a dark shadow immune to any and all light... 

Yaboku.

Who wasn’t created to love. Only to destroy.

To cull. 

He should have learned his lesson with Sakura.

Or... maybe he had. Maybe that was why he hesitated. Why he let his kid suffer through his traumatic memories. Why he let him plead for a life he no longer had to a man who never loved him. 

It really made the déjà vu kick in. A son, clinging to the robes of a father who felt no sympathy for his creation. Who didn’t dither to allow his child to be suffocated by the darkness he forced upon him.

Perhaps, Yato was wrong for thinking he’d be able to provide Yukine with a better second life. How could he give his kid what he needed when he too, never had it? 

He should have learned his lesson with Sakura. 

With trembling fingers, Yato raised his hand. He could see it all unraveling underneath the warm glow of Yukine’s desk lamp—the spreading blight, the eldritch all-seeing eyeballs, the emerging deformed bat wings. His kid falling from grace and morphing into a sinful hellion. All of it entirely Yato’s fault. 

He should have learned his lesson with Sakura. 

Yato’s mouth formed the words his heart would never let him say. It would be the responsible thing to do—Yukine deserved better—but the kanji didn’t rise off the kid’s skin (if it was still even there and not erased by the tainted rotten purple.) He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t let go of Yukine. He had promised the kid forever despite how selfish and stupid it was. Even as a god, Yato could never give anyone forever because 

he didn’t have it.

Suddenly, Yukine let out a strangled whimper, shooting out a fist straight into the bedside lamp. It crashed against the hardwood with the bulb shattering on impact. The room was then plunged into darkness. Yato couldn’t see his dying child anymore. 

Maybe that was a good thing.

It’s been centuries and Sakura’s karma form was still painted on the back of Yato’s eyelids. He didn’t need Yukine’s there too. 

But then—through the pitch-black—Yukine called out a name that broke Yato right out of his stupor. His name. Not only was his kid still in there, but he needed him. Wanted him.

He darted over to Yukine’s futon and immediately gathered the smaller body into his arms. The kid struggled—no doubt still in dreamland—and kicked harshly into Yato’s abdomen. But he didn’t care, didn’t let go, only held on tighter. Anything to keep his kid from breaking apart. 

Carefully, as if he was handling glass, Yato crooned words of comfort as he rocked them back and forth. He then noticed a distinct lack of ayakashi features. There was no trace of blighting as well. The karma was gone like a lightning flash. Almost as if he imagined it. 

Maybe he did. 

Maybe he was losing it.

With a quiet sigh, Yato ran his fingers through Yukine’s messy bed head. “It’s okay, Yukine, I’m here.” The kid was beginning to cease his struggles and Yato felt the barbwire knot in his heart loosen and dull.  

“You’re not in there anymore. He can’t hurt you.” Yato leaned down to bury his face into his hair. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

He planted a kiss. Soft and tender. As if he didn’t deserve to love something so precious. “I’m here so please don’t leave me.”

I need you.

Yato closed his eyes and continued to rock them. There was one hint of distress from Yukine that stubbornly stayed embedded in his chest. It speared through his ribcage and impaled his heart on a steel cold blade. Yato felt winded and exhaustion was yanking on his eyelids. Yukine’s negative emotions always made him feel like he just finished running a marathon. Sometimes he wished the bond worked both ways, so he could soothe his kid with his own warm affection. But then again, it was probably for the best that Yukine’s heart stayed one-sided with his—he didn’t want to be the one to snuff out that flame with his own anguish. 

He was already leading them down a path of mutual destruction as it was.

As Yukine fell limper in his arms, he hefted the kid up and onto his lap, guiding his head so his cheek rested against his shoulder. Yukine’s hand remained fisted in Yato’s white t-shirt, and he decided to just leave it. There was a wet circle on his chest where all of his kid’s tears fell, he barely even noticed. 

Under the moonlight, Yukine’s face was scrunched up in pain when he should look the most at peace. (He used too... before the clash with Father.) Yato wanted to soothe out all those disgruntled wrinkles, bring back the much-needed tranquility.

He didn’t know what possessed him at that moment, what thought that led to his next action. But as they rocked, as Yato held his kid in his arms, as they calmed down together in the stillness of the night... he let out a humming sound. Eventually, letting it get louder and louder until the hum turned into words and he was softly singing. 

The song was old, he was sure of it, but it was the most calming one he could think of. He didn’t even remember what exactly he knew it from. Maybe the radio... or the television... perhaps just someone he passed by one day. There weren’t many places to hear a lullaby... and Father never sang any to him. 

Maybe he should learn more songs, this was kind of nice. 

After finishing the lyrics he knew and making it halfway through an encore of them, Yukine started to stir. 

“...Yato?” He yawned, letting go of Yato’s shirt to rub at his eye. 

Yato couldn’t help but smile softly. He was still here. Still Yukine. 

That future without darkness was still visible in those amber eyes. 

They were still okay. 

“Shhh.” Yato smoothed down the back of his hair. He felt confusion pool into his chest as he softly shushed and pet his kid, but Yukine didn’t attempt to wiggle out of his arms just yet. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yukine made a noise of indifference as he nestled into Yato’s chest. He let out a small sigh. “No. I don’t remember what it was about. Sorry, I woke you.” His eyes slid closed once again. 

“It’s okay,” Yato whispered. 

He let his kid fall into an actual peaceful slumber, milking the tranquil ocean waves that washed over his chest, rocking his heart back and forth while swaddling it in a fuzzy warmth. He let Yukine light up his heart once more. 

Yaboku wasn’t created to love, but Yato was able to learn (with the help of Yukine and Hiyori, of course) and that was enough. 

Maybe they didn’t have forever, maybe the past was too painful to reminiscent on, and maybe the future was a tad too bleak sometimes, but the present was a work in progress and that was enough. 

It was enough because ever since Yato met Yukine, he felt like it was possible to change fate. So long as he followed his guidepost to the future he saw in his eyes. 

So long as he stayed away from the darkness. 

Perhaps he had learned his lesson with Sakura, not the one Father wanted him to learn but the one Sakura herself taught Yato. 

The lesson of what actual love was. Of goodness and care. 

Of life and death. 

Of family. 

-------

Author’s Note: this is 100% pure self-indulgence. I really just wanted to write a fic where Yato comforts Yukine after a nightmare with a lullaby. The manga has been really painful these latest chapters sooo I needed some father/son sweetness from these two to hold me over. Hope y’all enjoyed it~

[thgfanficinspo]

New chapter of my Odesta fic is up - please read!

(FINNICK)

They summon me, Blight, Cashmere, and Enobaria to an interview with Caesar Flickerman to discuss what happened with our tributes yesterday. They wanted Johanna to be on the panel, but she’s hung over and Caesar can’t stand her in general, so Blight takes over. I’d prefer Enobaria be replace, too – ideally by Lyme, but she’s too sympathetic for these blood-and-gore interviews. She doesn’t play up her victor persona.

I’m hung over, too, but there’s no getting out of this, especially after Snow cut me a break last night. Somes brings me some sort of concoction to calm my stomach after I barf in the kitchen sink. He’s one of those people that isn’t bothered by vomit at all, and I wonder if it has something to do with his life before he was an Avox. I know the ones from District 3 are usually electricians or techies; District 6 ones work in garages, doing repairs on trams and cars. I know the ones from the Capitol are usually servants, forced to wait on their former peers so they never forget their new status. 

I down the drink in one go and hand him back the empty glass. “Is this what you make for Broadsea?”

He nods.

“Does it work?”

He bobbles his head in a way that I think means, Not really or Sometimes.

“Fantastic.”

My stylist keeps quiet again. She’s usually very chatty and I usually don’t mind, but it was a rough night. And a rough morning.

When she’s done “sprucing me up” – a phrase Johanna taught me – I thank her and promise to be in a better mood next time.

She puckers her lips, which have been surgically altered to form a heart shape, and gives me a disproving look. “Mm-hmm.”

I like her much better than the last one.

I’m the third to arrive after Cashmere and Enobaria. Caesar greets me with an oversized smile and a handshake. “Finnick! Wonderful to see you as always. How have you been?”

I put on my best smile. “Can’t complain. And you?”

“Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful! I was just telling Cashmere here how exciting these Games are already.” He leans forward slightly and lowers his voice as if to tell me a secret. “Between you and me, I was a little disappointed with the lack of action last year.”

“I think Timothy would disagree,” I say.

Cashmere whips out a few of her beloved blackberry cigarettes and offers them around. “Want one?”

“Sure.” I pluck one from her outstretched hand.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid blackberry isn’t my flavor,” says Caesar.

Enobaria spits, “I don’t smoke.”

Blight shows up out of breath. “Sorry. Overslept.”

We settle in around the table as Caesar starts his vocal warmups. I put out my cigarette as makeup artists apply an extra layer of powder to Blight’s sweaty forehead.

“I saw a kitten eating chicken in the kitchen.” Caesar over-pronounces each word. “I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.”

“Could we get some coffee maybe?” I ask no one in particular.

One of the production assistants comes bounding over with a huge mug. “Sugar, sir?”

“Yes. Lots of sugar.”

“Can I get a water?” Blight asks.

The assistant smiles politely, but the look in her eyes suggests she wants to smack him. “Of course.” How dare he interrupt her conversation with the illustrious Finnick Odair? She could be the woman to finally make that philanderer settle down! But now she’ll never know because some idiot wanted water.

“Betty bought some butter, but, said she, the butter’s bitter. If I put the butter in my batter, it will make my batter bitter.”

Cashmere lights another cigarette which we share. We take turns dragging and blowing out ribbons of pale purple smoke. Cashmere can blow out perfect blackberry-scented rings. I can't eat blackberries anymore because they remind me of Cashmere, of her cigarettes, of the way she tastes when we're forced to kiss.

“But a bit of better butter will make my bitter batter better. So Betty bought the better butter, better than the bitter butter, put it in her batter, and made her bitter batter better. It was better Betty bought some better butter.”

The assistant gives me and Blight our beverages as the director counts down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” He points at Caesar to let him know he’s live.

“Good morning, Panem!” Caesar begins. “Yesterday, we witnessed the first major showdown between tributes following the bloodbath. Career tribute Piers Whitaker of District Four died trying to protect his counterpart, Annie Cresta, from his Career allies. Annie wounded Gad Centaury of District Seven, leaving his allies no choice but to kill him. Let’s take a look at that footage one more time.”

I concentrate on drinking my coffee while they play the clip.

Caesar directs the first question to me. “Now Finnick, I think what everyone at home is wondering – what do you make of Annie Cresta’s actions? I must say I was surprised. She didn’t strike me as being capable of such . . . violence.” He probably wanted to say savagery or barbarism but the whole thing is savage and barbaric. Needed to come up with a different word. “As her mentor, can you offer us any insight?”

This would be a great question for Johanna, who played the weakling when she was in the arena at first, but shocked the world with her violent attacks on the other tributes.

“You never know what someone is capable of until you put them in a situation like that,” I say. “I think that since we made it through those situations, victors know ourselves better than most.”

Caesar is nodding his head as he listens intently. “Mm-hmm.” He turns to Enobaria and asks her what she thinks of that statement.

Enobaria is a psycho but somehow doesn’t even make my list of the top five worst victors. What really puts me off about her is her teeth. In the final battle of her Games, she was pinned down by a boy twice her size and couldn’t move her arms or legs. The only weapon she had was her teeth, which she used to tear his neck wide open. That doesn’t bother me: she did what she had to do to survive. What does bother me is the fact that she had her teeth filed into fangs as an homage. I don’t know if she did it because she thought it would be a funny or if she plans to weaponize them again in the future.

“I agree,” she says to Caesar. “And I think all of our tributes are starting to understand who they are after this.”

“Oh, certainly. But what I want to know –” he puts his fingertips on the table and leans forward a bit “– is what do we think of Annie defeating Gad like that? Blight, any thoughts?”

Blight’s right in the middle of gulping down orange juice when Caesar asks the question so Cashmere answers instead. “Caesar, there’s always a longshot in the Games, and they always get farther than we expect. If you ask me, I think Gad was a bit too confident in his abilities.”

“There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance,” Caesar says. “Don’t you think so?” he asks me with a chuckle.

“Me? Caesar, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I flash a shmoozy smile at him.

“Finnick, so saucy!” Caesar’s oversized teeth steal the show when he opens his mouth to chuckle.

I excuse myself to the bathroom, where I vomit up Somes’s tonic and everything I’ve eaten in the last three days. I’m washing my mouth out over the sink when one of the televisions in the bathroom – they have televisions in nearly every room – cuts to a shot of Annie Cresta opening her eyes.

(ANNIE)

I’m on the docks. I know that because I’m wet and I’m all nestled up in ropes. And I can smell the wetness. The water against the concrete edge of the port. I don’t like that smell. I don’t like it anymore.

My eyelids are heavy. There’s gunk in the corners the way there is sometimes when somebody wakes me up in the middle of the night. But it’s not the night. I don’t think it is. The air at night feels difference from this. The air at home feels different from this. So do the ropes on the dock.

I make my eyes open. I’m not on the dock by the water. There is no dock and there is no water. Concrete and rain and vines and the vines have me all tangled up and I don’t know where I am.

I know I should stand. Should walk. I’m not supposed to stay here but I can’t remember why.

Sit up. But my head hurts. Let’s go back to bed. No, no. Can’t do that. Get up up up. Gonna fall back down – no, hang onto the vines that feel like rigging and don’t fall down again, Annie!

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate –

Silver thing floats down and lands at my feet. Parachute. A gift! I open it up as fast as I can but it’s nothing, just the cannister itself. A water bottle! I can use it for water.

But I had a water bottle. I just had it I just had it it was just I was just –

Can’t breathe. Hands on me squeezing me squeezing my neck and Piers is screaming and my thumbs are in his eyes and I look down at my hands and there’s jelly on them but not jam-jelly it’s jelly from the eyes from his eyes from his eyes from his eyes and Piers is screaming and I cover my ears to block out the sound but there’s still jelly on my hands and it gets on my face and in my hair and I try to clean it clean it but it won’t go away I try to scrape it off on a concrete wall and I scrape my skin off too.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

(FINNICK)

There are bruises across her neck in the shape of Gad’s hands where he choked her. it looks excruciatingly painful. The damage is enough that I doubt she’d even be able to swallow a sip of water.

I wince when she begins to sing, partially because of how painful it must be and partially because it’s – well, terrifying. Her squeaky, scratchy voice sends chills down my spine.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She abruptly covers her ears like she’s trying to block out a sound, but the microphones in the arena don’t pick anything up. She tears her hands away and looks down at them. They’re still stained with blood.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She starts clawing at her own hands like she’s trying to peel something off – the blood, probably. When that doesn’t work, she presses her palms into a nearby cinderblock and drags her hands down it so hard that she scrapes off some of her skin and smears blood on the block.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She lies back down among the vines and curls in on herself.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. “Mr. Odair?” It sounds like the production assistant from before. “They want you on stage.” I don’t respond. “Mr. Odair? Are you in there?”

I shut my eyes and sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Blight and the others are leaving just as I come back to the stage. Caesar is looking at the monitor on the desk in front of him with a very strange expression. I know we’re not being recorded when I sit down and he asks me, “What on earth is she doing?”

“Singing, I guess.”

The song ends and Annie burrows into her little nest and falls asleep again. Caesar lets me go after we establish that the song is an old nursery rhyme and Annie’s in shock, and that there are nine far more interesting tributes to focus on, like the ailing tribute from District 2 or the boy from District 10 who captures and eats small mutts.

Maybe when Annie wakes up she’ll be normal again.

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Not sure if I’m late or not but here is my latest entry for @naruto-fantasy-week​, a prompt for Day 5! I doubt I’ll have enough time to eek out fanfics with the last two prompts before the event ends but I’ll eventually write them and post them anyway and go back to this fanfic and the previous to spruce them up and expand on the ideas I came up with for each fanfic/prompt.

There is some violence mentioned and acted upon, especially in the end, but it’s nothing too graphic. And as a fun tidbit, cantarella was a poison rumored to be used by the Borgias but since there’s not a whole lot of evidence the poison exists, I took artistic license with it to suit my purpose of this story.

The title derives from the lyrics of Nightwish’s song “7 Days to the Wolves”.

Summary: He was a man of many faces, shapes, and ideas. Unfortunately, shapeshifters like him were a prize to be captured and then used for gladiator arenas. While he was used to the killing that didn’t mean Orochimaru never stopped contemplating his revenge. Who would have thought he would find another shapeshifter hidden right under Danzo’s nose? Naruto Fantasy Week, Day 5. Prompt: Shapeshifters. [Orochimaru x Sakura]

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“Serpents were in my heart.” — Mary Shelley, The Mortal Immortal 

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The white wyrm rested, and waited, in anticipation for that small cellar door to open and here the sounds of the humans issuing orders at him, telling him how lucky he was that a wretched snake, a shapeshifter, continued to live under the generous hospitality of Danzo, and if he continued to do his part in the fighting pits, he would be fed and not lose any of his scales. 

Orochimaru snarled at the door, wishing he could snap the wood in two and break the bones of the sentries posted outside his door. He heard that same annoying speech approximately 5475 times, once a day, for the last fifteen years. And sometimes they lied, for after battles, if he ended the match too quickly or gave his hapless opponent a swift, clean, and painless death, they’d drug him and pry a few of his white scales off, while the magic they used to bind and control his shapeshifting restrained him from unable to lash out. Such actions served to not only remind Orochimaru of who was in charge of his life and to sell his pearlescent scales to the highest bidder, adding a hefty, lucrative amount to Danzo’s coffers. 

One of these days, he was going to swallow Danzo whole and let that fool slowly digest in his stomach. His death would be slow, agonizing, and very satisfying.   

A guard eventually did open his chamber door, recited the boring, useless drivel Orochimaru heard over thousand times before nodding over to the masked mage at his side. The unknown mage wore a rodent-like mask, different from the last mage who temporarily lifted the block on his shapeshifting. 

“Danzo requests your presence, your human presence, at his side. The next match is starting soon.” informed the masked mage once the yellow glow departed from his outstretched hand. Orochimaru narrowed his slitted golden eyes dangerously. He remembered what happened when they first allowed him to change shapes, to assume his human form. He acted all compliant and understanding, lulling them in a false sense of security right before he first bite off the head of the mage, then a nearby guard, before shifting out of his wyrm body and back into his human self to escape the narrow door and grab the first weapon he could find to slay the other guard who was about to raise the alarm of his escape. He was eventually recaptured before he could leave the keep, home of the fighting pits, and was whipped brutally for his attempt. Yet through it all, Orochimaru still had to laugh bitterly at their earlier carelessness. Did they not forget who he was and why Danzo decided to let him live after his greatest transgression (besides being a shapeshifter)?

Before the village discovered his identity of a shapeshifter–creatures the elders condemned as monsters, only fit for extermination–, he was a trained warrior, a skilled killer who served the town while keeping his snake-like gilded eyes hidden in his youth through glamor or shaded spectacles. His parents could hide their natural heritage and appearances better with simple alterations and had no need for glamor, since they were older and more experienced shapeshifters. Yet all their years of experience and aptitude didn’t save them from being slaughtered–by the orders of Danzo. And Sarutobi, the village’s main leader, Orochimaru’s very teacher, turned a blind eye, and let the cloak-and-dagger execution happen. And then promptly turned around to lie to his young pupil’s grief-stricken face about his parents’ deaths.  

He didn’t regret killing that old bastard for lying to him after all those years. He may have not wanted his parents to die or issued the decree but his negligence, his cowardice, and acceptance of shapeshifters being lesser beings, like animals, made him just as guilty as Danzo, who hung up his parents’ skins up on his office for all to see. He had forced one of them to turn into a large serpent and the other, a small dragon, all so he could use their hide as a trophy. Such disfigurement was the most traumatizing death any shapeshifter could experience, especially if their corpse was paraded around like a proud prize for humans to gawk at.    

Orochimaru was left alone in his cell once more so he could transform back into a human and change into the clothes that were left for him. Those robes were always placed so neatly in the corner, waiting for him, when he was permitted to be human. His scaly body was soon a tall, lean pale man with long, silky black hair, and he kept his signature, curved golden eyes with dark purple markings around the eyelids. Everyone already knew who he really was so why bother mask his true appearance?

By the time he was escorted and brought to Danzo, the power-hungry man was already barking orders at the serving girls to bring him more sake and food. For Orochimaru, he simply inclined his head, inviting him to take a seat and watch the upcoming match. Just like always, whenever he planned to sic some unfortunate soul in the ring with him, as a wyrm. He wanted Orochimaru to study the gladiator’s fighting techniques and movements beforehand, a sure sign that he wanted his opponent to die in the battle arena.

Most likely a political opponent of Danzo’s or a dissenter he labeled as a ‘traitor’. My, my, he’s finding so many of them these days. 

The fighter down below was fast, Orochimaru would give him that, but strategy was not his forte. He dodged most of his larger foe’s attacks and was more of the type to wear his assailant down until they became exhausted and made mistakes. And he repeated his defensive blows often, another tactical error. Basically, his onslaught with him would hardly be a worthy match. 

Sighing in disappointment, Orochimaru helped himself to a goblet of water, draining its contents dry before setting the cup back down. As if on cue, one of the serving maids rushed up to him to refill his drink. He turned around, about to politely thank her (after all, unlike some, he actually had manners), and he heard a sharp intake of breath. When a pink haired server came into his line of vision, his nostrils flared, and her green eyes stared at him surprise. He understood her reaction.

Here, amidst Danzo’s private posse of servants, trusted men, and soldiers, was another shapeshifter. And unlike him, she was not branded or wearing chains that restricted or prohibited her from transforming into other animals or people. Which meant…

Danzo doesn’t know she’s a shapeshifter. How bloody rich.

If he wasn’t in the presence of Danzo’s oh so charming company, he’d laugh viciously at the irony right there, on the spot. 

The girl–no, young woman–whoever she was, fumbled with the pitcher during her moment of distraction and quickly averted her gaze to focus on not making an entire mess of the water and attracting the unwanted attention of Danzo. Meanwhile, as she concentrated solely on watching the water rise in his metallic goblet, Orochimaru leaned forwarded and whispered in her ear.

“Be careful, little one. Better stick to the shadows, lest someone gets suspicious and uncovers your secret. Then you’ll be chained, just like me.” 

That mocking warning startled her but she uttered nothing. She merely finished filling up his cup and returned to her original location, off to the corner and out of sight. Yet she did sneak a glance over her shoulder to get a glimpse of him one more time before she returned to her duties and he resumed his bored review of the fighting before him. Hopefully, that fledgling shapeshifter had enough sense in her to realize she risked more than just her life staying here and would quit the village in the dead of the night.   

There was no need for this putrid city to have two shapeshifters under their control or be responsible for another’s one death. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was wrong about the other shapeshifter. 

She must be lacking wits, to sneak past all the guards just so she could creep into his cell and offer him water and leftover food from the kitchens. Some might call her courageous but all Orochimaru beheld was a foolhardy woman who should have left Danzo’s service, packed her bags, and left this godforsaken place already. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he hissed, revealing his rows of sharp, venomous teeth.

The roseate haired shapeshifter ignored him, setting down a jug of water, scraps of chicken, pheasant, beef, and wild boar. The tender, seasoned meats and the spices cooked into its juices wafted through his nose and he eyed the meal curiously. 

“I never thought I would see another shapeshifter,” she began, inching the food tray closer to him. “Especially one imprisoned by Danzo. I thought he had a strict ‘kill every single shapeshifter I see’ policy.”

He chuckled dryly. “He does, unless he wants to use you for his own purposes. But why are you here to see me? You risk torture and certain death should the guards notice you.”

“But I wanted to see you!” she protested. “I haven’t seen, much less talked to another shapeshifter in years. Especially one who could help me–teach me, that is!” 

“Teach you what?” Orochimaru finally decided to sate his hunger and first devour the bits of pheasant, relieved to find that the chef didn’t use too much pepper and balanced the amount of herbs just right. 

“To change into larger, stronger creatures,” she explained, verdant eyes sparkling with hope. “You see, I was adopted by humans and they didn’t know my true heritage. So I had to learn how to transform on my own or scavenge for any books left behind by shapeshifters for helpful tips. I can do small animals and creatures but nothing as big or impressive as this.” She gestured to his wyrm body. 

That explains how she was able to skulk past all the sentries. 

“Why should I help you?” Orochimaru cut in, cocking his big, heavy head at her. “Why stay here, talking to me, instead of departing this wretched town and start searching our own kind? Surely, someone there can help you better than I.”

Her green eyes leveled with his amber ones, resolute and dark. “Because I crave to kill that bastard Danzo and I believe you’ll help me do that. And besides, I want to help you escape this horrible place.”

She didn’t even know him and yet, she wanted to help set him free. This shapeshifter was a strange creature, but he understood the hunger for revenge. It was a language he fathomed all too well and the burning desire had kept him going for all these torturous fifteen years. Danzo expected him to try to escape again or at least, try to murder him, but he didn’t anticipate her. And that raised the odds a little in their favor. 

“What an intriguing proposal,” he practically purred, his breathing fanning against her face and causing her pink hair to billow out behind her. “In exchange for me training you in how to change into more complex forms, you’ll help me escape from this dungeon, and somehow, together, we’ll kill Danzo. Is that correct?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. And I don’t care how long the training takes. I want, no need, to master my shapeshifting.”

At least she was dedicated, eager to learn. Orochimaru couldn’t abide small-minded people and those who had no drive, no interest in acquiring more knowledge and skills. 

Either way, he was trapped underneath the fighting pits, with nothing else better to do so why not? At least this way, he wouldn’t be so dreadfully bored.

“Very well, I will accept this offer. However, I will need to know the name of my pupil. It’s only polite after all.” He forked his long tongue at her, amused when he startled her a little.

“It’s Sakura.” She bowed her head in reverence. When was the last time someone gifted even a small measure of respect like that? “What’s yours? I need to know the name of my teacher too.”

He grinned wide, knowing full well his face probably appeared utterly monstrous and terrifying but to Sakura’s credit, she didn’t flinch or scramble away from him in supreme terror. 

Good.

“Orochimaru. Now, let us begin with your first lesson.”  

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Contrary to the popular belief among humans, shapeshifters didn’t magically obtain knowledge on how to transfer into every creature or animal in existence overnight. Each attempt took time, energy, training, and practice to learn, control, and master each form, so a shapeshifter could not only move and talk in their new form but stay in it for long periods of time. The same went to altering their human appearance or body completely.

So his lessons with Sakura continued for years as she made progress with more medium sized animals or changing her human self to the point no one would recognize her. He never inquired why she wanted Danzo dead so much because that was none of his business and right now, he was not that interested in prying into her personal affairs. In return, she never asked what he did to be imprisoned so cruelly by Danzo. However, he did not miss the way her eyes would linger over his old scars or small, open patches of flesh where his scales once were and her face would scrunch up into pure, indignant rage. It was adorable, actually. 

Yet he could hardly say the same whenever she was too exhausted in her training to head back to her room and go to sleep in her bed. Instead, Sakura would simply collapse amidst his coiled, scaly body and wrapped her arms around him, almost as if she was giving him a hug. Part of her features were usually resting up against his neck, so near his face that half of the time Orochimaru was tempted to shake his head or move around to jostle Sakura out of her slumber but something always prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was pity seeing how weary she was, juggling her servant duties, making sure her identity as a shapeshifter is still a secret, and then sneaking into his cell during the night to receive more lessons from him. She probably didn’t even realize she was falling asleep on him. Regardless, Orochimaru allowed this habit of hers to continue and only waited a few hours later to carefully wake her up and remind her to get back to her room before the sun rose and the other servants inquired about her absence. The routine turned into a cycle he had no motivation to stop. 

While Sakura was improving with her shapeshifting and finally could move onto the larger creatures, they began to discuss, in all seriousness and not just idle musing, about escaping and slaying Danzo in the process.

“Poison would be the surest way to kill him,” Sakura opined. “There are so many different varieties out there that are slow acting and don’t show any immediate signs of poison until after death. And I serve him his meals occasionally, right after he is given his medicine. I can always poison the drink he takes to wash the foul flavor of the concoction down. He wouldn’t be able to notice a difference in taste.” 

“A fine idea but Danzo is a paranoid man, especially since he knows I want to kill him and many of my previous forms favored snakes, serpents, or dragon-like beasts. I’ve heard he boosted his immunity to several poisons so if we choose poorly and select the one he’s immune to, then we wasted our time.” Orochimaru pointed out, stretching out his long, cumbersome physique in this rather cramped cell. 

Undaunted, Sakura still pressed the venom route. “What about poisons that will simply immobilize him and prevent him from speaking or moving for a long time? Surely he wouldn’t have spent his time increading his defense for poison that won’t kill him outright or over time.”

Cocking his head, Orochimaru regarded her curiously at her suggestion. If Danzo was paralyzed like that, preferably in his bed, those close to him would raise their suspicions that this wasn’t natural and the work of some curse or toxin. On the other hand, if they measured the dose correctly and timed its effect exactly, then it could be possible to have the old devil at their mercy. That is, if he was predicting Sakura’s plan accurately. 

“Are you suggesting we use a poison that will paralyze sometime in the night, rendering him unable to defend himself or call for help as we kill him?” he stated, making sure they were on the same page.

Sakura nodded, eyes resolved, her face grim. “Yes. Do you think that scheme would work?”

“It could, if we can get our hands on this specific poison. Cantarella, I believe it’s called. Do you know where you can obtain some?” Creating cantarella on their own would take far too long and even though shapeshifters were blessed with longevity, Orochimaru did not want to take any more risks with these nighttime lessons of theirs. Sooner or later, someone would notice Sakura’s odd nocturnal routines and investigate. And such nosiness could get them both butchered. 

“Yes, I know someone. He poses as a traveling merchant and has no love for Danzo or this village. He won’t ask questions if I purchase the cantarella from him.” 

Orochimaru hummed with approval. “Good, that issue is taken care of. Now, onto the other snag in this scheme of ours.” Lifting his head up, he gestured to the thick, old, and heinous brand embedded in his upper torso, located right on his upper left chest if he was a man. “This brand and the chains that bind me here prevent me from transforming. Since none of us know how to remove the brand or negate it completely, we need one the sealing rings the mages use to control whether or not a shapeshifter can change their form.”

Moving away from her spot on the hard, damp ground, Sakura approached the branded section and gingerly reached out to touch it, tracing the design slowly. “I think I can get one. It might take me a few days or a week to butter up the mage but I have a plan.” She turned her head towards him. “Trust me on this. By the end of this week, I will get us that ring and once we have it, then all we have to do next is administer the cantarella.”

“And not get caught in the process,” Orochimaru reminded soberly. “If Danzo or one of his supporters catches wind of our plot, then we’re good as dead.”

And this time, Danzo will skin me for certain, wyrm form and all. 

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His concern on Sakura’s unspoken plan to get a sealing ring from a mage was apparently groundless. For by the end of the week, after she entered his cell in the form of a cat, he glimpsed the ring in her mouth. She dropped the item in front of her, a triumphant beam on her feline visage before steadily changing back into the petite, muscled young woman with short, cropped rose hair and jade eyes. 

“How long do we have before the mage starts searching for his missing ring?” was the first question Orochimaru asked, not touching the said ring right away. For years he longed to get his hands on this trinket, to use its powers to nullify the brand’s power and finally control his own shape for a change. It didn’t matter whether he or Sakura used the ring, the magic inside would work and he could shift back into his human self again or take the form of another animal. They were lucky the sorcery within those rings could be accessed by anyone with just a simple word, a word Orochimaru heard often enough with his now almost twenty years of imprisonment. 

Contemplating his query, Sakura scrunched her nose up to concentration on her estimation on the amount of time they had left to enact their wild scheme. “I think we have until morning. The sleeping potion I gave him will leave him knocked out the rest of the evening and night.”

Sleeping potion? If he had eyebrows in his wyrm form, Orochimary would have risen both of them. Only those who possessed enough knowledge and skills in medicine would boost such confidence in the lasting effects of a sleeping potion. No mere amateur could create a legitimate concoction that would actually work. 

Sakura never ceased to surprise him. 

“A shapeshifter and a practitioner of medicine? My, my, you must have an interesting story to tell. I must say, I’m rather impressed with your skillset.” Orochimaru remarked. He remembered a former comrade-in-arms who was a combat medic, the first in her line of work. By the time he murdered their former teacher, Sarutobi, she had already left the town and roamed the countryside to be with her lover, a civilian named Dan. If Danzo was now fully dominating this town, she would have been aghast and then incensed what became of her home. 

Orochimaru hadn’t thought about Tsunade for a long time. Being chained in a dungeon and used for gladiatorial matches had a peculiar way of warping one’s memories and perception of time, it seemed. 

Sakura brightened at his praise, the luster in her eyes practically illuminating his dim, dusky cell. “I’m happy to hear that, Orochimaru. Sleeping potion can be chancy, especially mixed with alcohol, but the mage I was charming earlier already wanted to spend some time alone with me after his shift. Getting the sleeping potion was actually harder than mixing it into his ale. By the time he wakes up tomorrow, he won't remember if we had a wild night or not.” 

Mocking laughter percolated from the back of Orochimaru’s long, thick throat. Undone by the lust in his own loins. How insipidly easy. 

“As long he won’t recall clearly and the potion lasts, we have our chance.” He nodded to the ring on the ground. “Use that thing on me. It’ll be easier for you to release the binding seal on me rather than myself.” His tail or mouth were much too enormous to hold the ring securely with dropping it or accidentally swallowing it. “All you need to do is chant ‘Release’ and I should be able to change my form at will.”

Sakura gifted him a skeptical look. “The word to use is ‘release’? Nothing else? Nothing more complicated?”

“I never said the mages under Danzo’s control were intelligent. Most of them are mindless drones. Danzo mass produces those rings to help all of his soldiers and assassins combat shapeshifters so of course he wants them to be easy to utilize.” 

She glared at the offending ring on the ground prior to picking it up and slipping it under her finger. Her mouth opened and formed the lone word, her voice low, soft, but commanding. 

“Release!”

He felt the brand heat up, the pin-prickling warmth uncomfortable at first prior to evanescing away into nothing. The shadow of control the brand had always rendered inside his mind and body was gone, replaced with an empty sensation that there was no magic this time to stop him from shifting. 

His body grew smaller and assumed a new shape. His alabaster scales became white skin, long, luxurious hair the color of jet black cascading effortlessly down his scalp and past his shoulders and back, and he relished the feel of arms, legs, hands, and feet. The only part of him that remained the same was his golden eyes, outlined by violet markings. 

Sakura stared up at him in wonder, holding the ring up for him to take and use for his own protection. “I’ve never seen you shapeshift before. You did so flawlessly...it’s like watching water move on its own.”

An indulgent half-smile slithered across his lips, accepting the ring and dropping the trinket over his pointer finger. “If you live long enough as I have, then you’ll be able to shift your body as swiftly and deftly as me.” His eyes roamed past Sakuraand over to the cell door behind them. There were no guards around but they still had to be cautious. They were so close to the final stages of their plot. 

“I take it since you made plans to snatch this ring that you already are in possession of the cantarella?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve been scheduled to bring Danzo his meal and drink tonight, with the physician who will feed him his medicine.” A black smirk spread across her fair visage. “I will be needed for this duty in less than an hour.” 

He expected such news but the information was so welcoming and pleasing to him that his half-grin soon morphed into a smirk identical to hers. “Perfect. Go and make the preparations and let me know when it’s done. When night has fallen, we will shapeshift into an unnoticeable animal to enter his room. After that…” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if the two of them would just be wishing Danzo goodnight instead of murdering him in his bed. But the sinister, vindictive gleam in both of their gazes belied the softness of his tone. Orochimaru could imagine Danzo’s blood on his hands, coating the entire wall in a crimson palette. “Well, let’s give the people of this...amusing establishment something to chat about tomorrow morning.” 

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The priceless, alarmed look in Danzo’s eyes would be forever burned in Orochimaru’s mind. There was a small fragrance of fear emitting from the usually prideful, smug hunter of shapeshifters, the tantalizing smell hovered so  deliciously over him as the two shapeshifters approached the bed, a candle in both of their hands so Danzo could witness his assassins. The cantarella worked wonders for even now, Danzo could not move nor speak to save himself. All he could was listen. Listen and wait for his demise to come. 

“I warned you all those years ago that killing me would have been wiser for you,” Orochimaru intoned darkly, his whispery words surely evoking the same memory from Danzo. The candlelight illuminated his amber eyes so clearly in the vacant darkness of the room. “But I shouldn’t be so rude and hog all the introductions. Sakura, dear, why don’t you jot Danzo’s recollection of you? Judging by the confused expression on his face, I say he doesn’t recall you.”

Danzo wheezed and grunted, mouth hanging up like a fish, but his fear was now replaced with utter rage. 

In an instant, Sakura held a dagger over his chest, a silent snarl overcoming her mouth, her face promising no mercy and a slow, painful death. She glared at Danzo like he was vermin, not fit to even exist in this world. “I doubt you remember me, you bastard. Why would you, when you banned the women in this village the right to become warriors? And why would you care about some girl all those years ago, from a civilian family, who could not possibly be a threat to you? After all, it was her friend, that orphan boy whom the neighbors whispered about having shapeshifting powers and that he acted more like an animal than a boy? Isn’t that right?” 

By now, in the midst of her ranting, Sakura had already begun to sink the blade into Danzo’s stomach and the old coot hacked, and then gurgled out wordless noises, his eyes wide as saucers. Although Danzo could not scream out his agony, Orochimaru still tore some of the bedsheets and stuffed them in his mouth, just in case. Sakura retracted her hand, only to plunge the dagger into another area of his abdomen once more. 

“He was just a boy, Danzo! And he was my friend!” she growled, jade eyes ablaze with retribution, fury, contempt, and grief. Emotions Orochimaru comprehended all too well. He could never forget behelding his parents’ hides decorated in Danzo’s office, no matter how hard he tried. “His name was Naruto and you executed him for being a mischievous shapeshifter.” Again and again she stabbed, garnet holes oozing out of him and spreading outward to create morphless, endless streaks and designs, staining his clothes and sheets until the entire bed cover, once a bland beige color, now was dyed a deep burgundy hue. “But you missed one. You missed me, Sakura. All this time, I’ve been serving your food, pouring your drinks, and you didn’t fucking realize a shapeshifter was amongst you this whole time.” She spat in his wrinkled countenance, giving the dagger another savage twist before she rend the weapon out and handed the blade to Orochimaru.

Your turn, she seemed to convey.

He tilted his head at her as a silent ‘thank you’, the hilt of the sanguinary, jagged dagger warm, consoling, and solid against his palm. He rested the edge of the dagger against Danzo’s throat, the point delicately piercing the skin of that center bulge. “I know based on how much blood you have already lost thanks to Sakura’s wonderfully enthusiastic work that you don’t have long for this world. So in your last fleeting moments, I am going to fulfill my promise to you and take my pound of flesh.” Danzo’s eyes bulged in recognition, his chin soaked with his drool.  

Orochimaru cackled. Excellent, he still remembers my first threat to him before he cast me into the dungeons. 

“That’s right, Danzo. I’ve come to carve out your heart at last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he and Sakura changed into bats and flew out of the open window Sakura had left ajar hours earlier, when she added the cantarella into Danzo’s drink, the sun was barely reaching the tips of the hills and bringing faint tinges of purples, pinks, and oranges to the night sky. By the time the servants opened the door and witnessed the gruesome display of what little remained of Danzo, the two shapeshifters would be a distant memory and far from the village’s reach. 

“What will you do now that Danzo’s dead? You can shapeshift on your own quite well.” 

At his question, Sakura frowned. “I’m not sure. I always assumed I’d die right after assassinating Danzo so I never really figured out the part of what comes next.” She combed through her lush, pink hair, her fingers untangling any stubborn knots. “But I recently heard some shapeshifters live away from humans and formed their settlement. Perhaps we could find them and live amongst them?”

Funny how she included him in her idea. Yet Orochimaru didn’t protest. It wasn’t as ifhe had any fine plans of his own and besides his parents, there was no one else in the world who cared about him. Save for Sakura. 

“I suppose that idea has merit,” he admitted, pretending not to notice the delighted sparkle in her verdant gaze or the way her lips curled upwards in triumph. “Let’s give your plan a try and see if we’re lucky enough to find more of our own.”

Much to his surprise, she reached over to grab his hand and held onto it, a small smile gracing her lips. “Even if we don’t, we won’t be alone. I’m…” She swallowed briefly before resuming. “I’m grateful...and delighted to have you in my life, Orochimaru.”

He squeezed her hand fondly, the right words caught in his throat. So was he. 

Regardless, Sakura understood his unspoken sentiment and continued to grin ever brighter for the rest of the day.