#another ao3 maintenance oneshot

[venomwrites]

Vi really needs to grow a spine. 

That’s all she can think. One little please should not destroy her judgement quite like this. She vaguely remembers Salo’s chair moving awkwardly every time it came through a door. Mostly she remembers hearing him complain endlessly about how slow everything was. How this hurt or that hurt and why couldn’t people do anything right. They were no better than those filthy Zaunites. She had just chalked it up to him being an asshole, but now she grudgingly admits he might have a point. She gave up the chair a block ago because every stupid bump made Caitlyn wince even though she wouldn’t admit it. It was kind of unmistakable. Even though she’s weak, Caitlyn’s legs might be the least injured part of her. She can manage the halting steps better than the thump of the chair. 

And Vi can brace the rest of her. 

“We’re almost there,��� she says. Caitlyn can only manage to nod, her lips pressed in a tight line that can’t feel nice on her eye. Vi glances around, “we could—“

“No,” Caitlyn gasps softly, “we’re almost there.”

“Damn right,” Vi mutters and tightens her grip on her shirt. 

It’s not like this is the first time they’ve staggered like this. To be fair this might be the worst state they’ve been in. Usually one of them is in decent shape. Usually she’s the stabbed one, if she thinks about it. Sometimes when they move too quickly the assist turns into a carry when Caitlyn pulls and her toes just drag. It’s weird to feel like she’s being carried. It makes her feel impossibly young. Like she has someone to care for her. It actually might be easier to move like this when Caitlyn is the one supporting just because of the height difference. It’s awkward for Caitlyn to lean on her, but Vi can feel her weight pressing onto her shoulders. She’s lucky Caitlyn is accepting this much help, given how quick she was to try and shirk off everything from pain meds to extra bandages. Until Vi yanked the doctors aside and told them to stop offering options unless they had to. They just had to make her better and Vi would take care of the rest. 

Guilt, that’s why the please worked. 

That had to be it. 

By the time they get there, Caitlyn is clammy and pale. Vi can feel sweat streaking her spine. But they are here. That is all that matters. Or it should be. Vi kicks herself as she realizes she should have thought this place wouldn’t be untouched. Nothing up here is untouched. Caitlyn’s face falls even though they both know  it’s not that bad. Relatively speaking. Mostly it’s shattered glass and splatters of pigment. There’s a missing head but by some stroke of luck, it’s not the one they are here to see. Caitlyn makes a noise of distress before quickly smothering it and trying to smile. Which is bullshit. Vi feels gutted anyone has touched this place and she’s pretty sure if Cassandra Kiramman didn’t hate her before, she sure as hell does now. 

There’s nothing to do but hobble forward with Cait. She gets her up against the statute and makes sure she has her feet under her. The cast on her own arm is a pain in the ass. If it’s not itching, it’s doing something else to get in the way. Now though she’s grateful for the plaster so she can sweep the glass off the ledge. Caitlyn immediately opens her mouth to tell her not to but Vi waves her off. She barely feels the glass as she pushes it aside and cleans the ledge. When she’s sure there’s a spot Caitlyn won’t cut herself on, she gets back under her arm and helps get her down. Despite her protests Caitlyn sags gratefully against the metal and rests her head in the bronze sweep of her mother’s skirt. 

I want to see my mother.

Please.

Vi wishes they could have gone to the gardens, but Caitlyn’s banished herself from them. Not from the statute though. She was expected to show face here and remind people she was a mourning daughter and a Commander. It makes Vi sick to think about. Truth is she only ever should have been the first. But now she’s grateful. If nothing else because it lets Caitlyn have a place she can mourn. The request to come here is insane. But Caitlyn seems to voice the insane requests to her. A dark part of Vi whispers its because she imagines she’ll say yes, like she always does to those she loves. But the rest of sings this is trust. Caitlyn trusts her with these broken pieces of herself and her desires. Trusts her in a way she doesn’t seem to trust anyone else. So when she asks, even though she should say no, Vi says yes. When the chair breaks, Vi gets them to walk. Vander's voice echoes in the back of her head before she shoves it aside. Caitlyn is the leader here. Vi doesn’t know where she fits in, but getting them here is something. It feels like a start. 

Caitlyn looks impossibly young when she is sick. It was jarring to see her in the hospital bed with doctors towering and scrambling over her. It’s somehow more gutting to see her slumped against the cold metal. She looks like a kid hiding her face in her mother’s skirt. Like how Vi used to hide her grief in Vander’s shoulder. In all of Vi’s watercolor memories, her mom is in pants except when she’s round with Powder. And when she was round with Powder they had to be careful. It was Dad or Vander who swung her up. Who let her cry into their shoulder because Mom couldn’t pick her up anymore. Dad and Dad. Caitlyn’s shoulders tremble as she presses into the metal. Even though Vi knows she’s seeking warmth, all she can think of is how the cold packs seemed to help dull the pain of her eye. She might want the warmth that’s no longer there, but Vi hopes the metal is helping. She glances around for anything they could use to clean off the colored pigment, but there’s only broken glass around them and a few nubs of wax. She hears a whisper and approaches Caitlyn when she sees her teal eye focusing on her. 

“Thank you,” Caitlyn whispers, even in the exhaustion there’s something shy in her voice Vi isn’t used to hearing. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Vi says, all the jokes she would usually make drying on her tongue, “it’s just a little banged up, we can get it cleaned.”

“I don’t care,” Caitlyn sighs. Vi frowns. She shifts with a grimace, “I hope I never see it again.”

“This is a lot of trouble for somewhere you never want to see again, Cupcake,” she says. Caitlyn watches her carefully, “any reason why?”

Something proud flares in Caitlyn’s eye and Vi feels her own chest puff with the look. She doesn’t know why it matters when Caitlyn looks at her with pride. For a decade she loved it when everyone looked at her with fear or disgust. There was no pride in Stillwater Hold. If there was it meant nothing good. Sometimes in the quiet, dark moments Vi wonders how much of herself she left there. How much of her died with Vander or on the bridge. Sometimes she thinks it might’ve been everything good in her. But sometimes she picks up on what Caitlyn wants or finishes a puzzle before she does and Caitlyn looks at her with such pride. And some part of Vi that’s been long dead kicks awake. Like it was just waiting for someone to show her how to feel this way again. 

“I wanted to see you here,” Caitlyn tells her. Pain and embarrassment flash across her face, “not her—“

Vi’s stomach drops. ‘Her’ can only mean one thing. Vi could have given less of a shit about Maddie until Mel told her. Maddie wasn’t just a brown nosing suck up—which was already annoying—she was a manipulating, betraying brown nosing suck up who nearly shot Caitlyn through the neck. Mel had tried to break the new gently but Vi still nearly got herself another cast when she punched the wall. Her only follow up question had been why Mel made her death quick. That got her a genuine smile and a not so genuine apology for miscalculating the angle from behind a door. It doesn’t surprise Vi that Maddie weaseled her way into Caitlyn’s mourning. Somehow the idea Maddie was here when Caitlyn was grieving feels like an even worse violation than her slipping into Caitlyn’s bed. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Vi says, touching her knee and drawing her attention, “we’re here. And your mom is still glaring at the sky and not me, so we’re doing something right.”

That gets a smile from Caitlyn. One that softens as she watches Vi standing there. Even with all the violence that now surrounds the place she looks almost at peace with it. Vi isn’t naive enough to think that them being here together magically solves everything. It doesn’t change the broken glass or the stained statue. It doesn’t make Jinx appear or put the world back together. But just for a moment, it feels like it counts for something. Them being here together counts for a lot. Just to be sure Vi glances up but Cassandra is still glaring up at the heavens. Caitlyn gives her a questioning look and Vi offers her own smile. 

“Just making sure,” she jokes. 

Caitlyn’s smile reappears and widens, this time to the point of her wincing at the foreign feeling. But it might the first time she’s smiled without thinking about her injuries or her overwhelming guilt. Vi crouches in front of her but Caitlyn motions her forward. There’s just enough room for both of them to fit on the ledge, though it does require a bit of draping of legs. But Vi’s not complaining as Caitlyn’s cover her thighs. It feels nice and real to have the metal at her back, stone under her butt and Caitlyn’s legs on her thighs. Nothing feels awful, one of the things feels nice. All of it reminds her they are alive and here. They can rebuild like the cities that surround them. 

“I think they said she was looking at the future,” Caitlyn says, “but she was always focused on what she could do now.”

Vi thinks of her kicking down the door and the look on her face. But Caitlyn’s smile is gentle and soft and impossibly fond.

“You didn’t see when you left, she told me to go after you,” she says, “She never told me to do that before, I think you managed to impress her.”

That catches Vi off guard. She remembers her kicking down the door and calling her a stray. Though she also remembers the curt nod she gave before slipping into the Council chamber ahead of them. Even though she’d still been trying to collect her thoughts and wrap her mind around addressing the Council at all, Caitlyn’s mom had acknowledged her before she spoke. When Vi had started talking, she had looked at her without questioning why she was there. It had felt like she could keep speaking, even though she lost it right after that. She doesn’t remember seeing her reaction to her storming off, she had been too embarrassed to meet the older woman’s eyes. And then Caitlyn had been running after her in the rain and Vi had just continued to say stupid and wrong shit. When she thinks about how they got from there to this moment, it makes her head spin. It spins so much she’s glad she’s sitting down. But there’s also a weirdly warm feeling at the idea Caitlyn’s mom might not have thought of her quite so badly. 

“They did her dirty with the statue,” Vi says. It makes Caitlyn smile again, “least they let my dad have his pipe.”

“You dad has a statute?” Caitlyn asks. Vi shrugs. 

“He did,” she says, “I don’t know if it’s still there—“ she admits, “but he did. Yeah.”

“I want to see it,” Caitlyn declares, “I only saw him—“

“As a werewolf?” Vi offers. Caitlyn presses her lips together against the smile, “you can say it.”

“Yes, as a werewolf,” Caitlyn concedes, “I’d like to see him as you remember.”

Vi swallows as she thinks about it. Vander’s been in her head a lot. They all have, but he’s in the front. It feels important to catalogue everything she can remember. From the burn of the spirits against her cuts to the smell of the oil he used to polish the bar. The rumble of his voice, the squeak as he cleaned bar glasses—she turns everything over in her head. She knows it’s so she won’t think of the wolf. The purple. She knows it’s so she won’t try to fit together his purple, bubbling corpse with the still wolf who launched at them so viciously. Maybe one day she’ll be ready to think about it, but right now it feels like that wound is just too fresh. If she starts thinking about it now she’s not sure she’ll ever stop. She can’t just think about it. So she faces herself to remember him standing in the Last Drop cleaning glasses and imparting wisdom in that gruff-gentle way of his. 

“We’ll go,” she promises, “when we’re better,” she sees the disappointment in Caitlyn’s face, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” Caitlyn whispers. 

Vi wishes she could object more, but the same thought churns in the back of her head. It just really sucks to see it reflected on Caitlyn’s face. It feels wrong to see her looking as world weary as Vi feels. It makes something in Vi’s bones ache to see her look like that. But at the same time she knows that’s not fair to Caitlyn. Caitlyn’s got enough shit going on without Vi twisting herself over with guilt. She’s learned that lesson. The guilt is there, sure, but it’s not the most important thing right now. It’s not even in the top ten. Vi strokes her thumb across Caitlyn’s knee. 

“You’re right but that’s okay,” she says, “nothing really lasts in Zaun. If it does, it never stays the same,” she shrugs, “that’s why we tell stories, why Ekko paints, it’s so we can remember things like they were. Even if those places are gone.”

Caitlyn considers her words for a moment. 

“Then you’ll tell me about him? When you’re ready?”

The concession makes Vi’s eyes sting. Caitlyn is terrible at being patient. Even when she’s lining up a shot, when she is capable of exercising patience, she hates doing it. When she’s on the trail? It’s even worse. The night before Ambessa showed up she was a complete wreck of impatient nerves until Vi kissed her and dragged her to bed. That is definitely not going to be happening for a while. She offers patience because she knows that’s what Vi needs. Not for the first time, Vi is stupidly, selfishly glad she stayed on that chunk of metal. Even when most of he wanted to tip to the side. That little part of her that is learning how to want was louder. Somehow it was louder. 

“Yeah, ‘course I will,” Vi says, “we’ll talk about them. Soon.”

Cailtyn nods in agreement and they sit there as the sky starts to change. Regretfully Vi squeezes her knee. Caitlyn leans forward and glances upwards at the darkening sky. It’s time to leave this place before they both add a cold to the list of injuries. It’s even harder getting up, but they manage and Vi fits herself back under Caitlyn’s arm. Caitlyn looks up at the statue and even with the pain etched on her face, there’s a new calm in her eye and edging her features. Vi squeezes her waist to get her attention and Caitlyn looks at her. 

“Maybe lightening will get it,” Vi offers. 

Caitlyn chuckles. First time anything even close to a laugh has left her lips since they woke up from the battle.

“We can only hope,” she says, glancing up at it, “it really looks nothing like her,” she says and something almost regretful slips into her tone. 

Vi wants her to laugh again.

“If lightening doesn’t get it we can always come back,” she says, “or ask Ekko to swing by,” she continues, “literally,” she adds, swinging her casted arm. 

It’s not a laugh but it does make Caitlyn smile. 

“Let’s hope for lightening,” Caitlyn says, starting to walk. 

Vi helps her stay upright as they hobble away from the statute. For once luck is on their side and they make it home before the rain starts. Which makes relief hit Vi like a ton of bricks. They just left the hospital, she doesn’t want to go back and do the whole stupid casting process again. How she is going to stay in the thing for weeks is beyond her. But the idea of having pins in her arm makes her stomach turn. Deciding upstairs is not going to work, Vi takes them to the library on the main floor. Caitlyn shakes her head when Vi moves for the chair and sits down on the coffee table. There’s only three hands between them and a very dead fireplace. But she drops the logs in and Caitlyn strikes one of the comically long matches. Together they get the fire going and bring some warmth and light into the room. Which is great because a moment later, lightening bolts across the sky. They both jump and turn towards it. Vi can feel her heart leap, but she doesn’t want to think about the flash of power and the blue puff of smoke. Caitlyn’s hand reaches up and grasps hers. They lock their fingers together and Vi wills herself to just focus on the touch of Caitlyn’s skin. 

“Think it hit your mom’s ugly ass statue?” She whispers. 

“We can only hope,” Caitlyn replies, her tone equally tight, “I can’t pull you down,” she says, “so—“ she gives a tug on Vi’s wrist. 

Vi sits on the coffee table next to her and carefully guides Caitlyn’s arm over her shoulders. Caitlyn tightens her arm and Vi scoots over, pressing their bodies together as they hunch in front of the fire. Each crack of thunder and flash of lightening makes Caitlyn’s arm tighten around her. Her hand squeezes Vi’s. It’s not enough to erase the thud of her heart, but it helps. It helps a lot. It helps Vi remember that she’s in the Kiramman house. She’s with Caitlyn. She chose not to fall into the blue smoke. She chose to stay. She has to repeat it to herself every time she hears the crack of thunder. Even though she can’t squeeze the same way, she wraps her casted arm around Caitlyn and holds her close as she also jumps at every crack of thunder. It takes Vi a minute to realize it’s because each crack of thunder is a surprise. She can’t see the lightening. So Vi starts squeezing her hand every time she sees the lightening, then again when she jumps at the thunder. When she catches Caitlyn’s gaze, Caitlyn offers a shaky smile. 

“It better have hit,” she whispers almost savagely. 

Even amidst all the misery, for the first time since waking up, Vi lets out a shaky, honest laugh. 

“You really hate that statue, don’t you Cupcake?” She says. 

Caitlyn’s eye brightens at the nickname. And for one impossible second they can almost pretend they are the same girls who left Stillwater together. Maybe somewhere deep down, those girls are still there. Maybe they can find them again. Vi really fucking hopes they can. That the universe will be kind enough they can find those pieces of themselves amidst all the rubble. Like they found each other in the battlefield. Maybe they can hobble away from this together. If they lean on each other. Instead of focusing on the thunder Vi focuses on the way the light of the fire dances along the midnight of Caitlyn’s hair. She watches as Caitlyn goes pink under her inspection and tilts her head like she’s trying to turn away. Vi is gentle when she touches her chin, mindful of the fact that she’s barely got any fingertips before the bulky plaster starts. And she can’t bear the idea of adding any injuries to Caitlyn. 

“What?” Caitlyn asks softly. 

“I’m just really glad we’re here,” Vi admits. 

Caitlyn leans forward and gently presses their foreheads together. It makes Vi think of the cell and those moments between kisses when all they could do was giggle as they fumbled over stupidly complicated clasps and touched every bit of skin they had thought about during their time apart. Vi doesn’t even know if she remembers how to laugh like that. But maybe she can learn. Maybe they both can. Caitlyn strokes down the curve of her cheek and something in Vi shivers at the memory. But instead of grasping the hand that’s casted, Caitlyn’s fingers settle on her shoulder. It’s something new but it doesn’t lessen the wild, hopeful feeling beating in Vi’s chest.

“Me too, Violet” Caitlyn whispers. 

Vi swallows at the sound of her full name on Caitlyn’s lips. 

Nothing ever stays the same. 

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing if the right person is beside you. 

[haemey]

Introducing my hella ambitious fanfic project: Credo

Screw it. I was going to wait with posting and uploading until I got further along, but nah, I'm way too impatient. And with the Ao3 servers back up earlier than expected after maintenance, what better time than the present?

Credo will be a series of Good Omens fanfics for which I treat the Nicean-Constantinopolitan Creed (aka Credo, Latin for "I believe," variations whereof are an indispensable part of many Christian liturgies) as a series of writing prompts. Most of the fics therein will be short oneshots, with many coming in under 1k words. At least one will be a long, multi-chapter fic (which I will only start uploading once I know I can finish it). For some of them, I will follow the original line from the Credo rather closely, others will be rather... abstract.

There will be silliness and fluff, there will be hurt and angst. There will be both comedy and tragedy. Everything will be sfw, most will be G or T rated. If there is an M rating, it will be because of really dark themes and high pain levels.

The fics will come out as I write them, so they won't be in order. I will arrange them correctly within the series, though. They can be read in any order though, since they will all work as standalones, even though, in my mind at least, they're all set in the same universe and might sometimes give additional context to one another.

Some will be plotty, others will just be character studies or theme explorations.

In other words, there will be something for everyone!

We'll begin with the first two, one for each of our Ineffables:

Credo in unum Deum, patrem omnipotentem (I believe in the one God, the Almighty Father), 711 words, G rated:

An exploration of Aziraphale's relationship with God and Heaven after Season 2. No plot, no set timeline, just thoughts and doubts.

Factorem Coeli et Terrae (The Maker of Heaven and Earth), 569 words, G rated:

Crowley reflecting on Creation. Just that.

I hope you give these a try, come along for the journey, and if you do, please tell me what you think!

Art by me :)

Edit: Ooooh, forgot to tag @goodomensafterdark :D

[deityoftherain]

canary wings and pronouns - Flower Husbands and Cherryblings Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M, Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,191

Summary: Scott and Jimmy are taking a break from server hopping, using their time to be affectionate and caring husbands to one another. Just as Scott finishes preening Jimmy's canary wings, the door bell rings...

This was written for @holymolyguacomole through the @mcytblr-fluff-exchange !

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

“Do you think the stars are jealous of how pretty you are?” Jimmy asked, momentarily catching Scott off guard.

Scott tilted their head at the comment, the jewelry decorating their pointed ears making music like wind chimes with the movement. A warm fluttering grew in his chest as he gave Jimmy his most charming smile, eyes twinkling as he booped the end of Jimmy’s nose. “Darling, I am The Stars.”

“Well, yeah, but, I, well,” Jimmy’s face went beet red as he stammered, shaking out his yellow canary wings. To his credit, he did manage to recover after a moment or two. “You’re the most beautiful star I’ve ever seen.”

He couldn’t help but softened at Jimmy’s sincerity, finding him utterly endearing. Jimmy was a weak spot that Scott didn’t mind having, for the risks were worth it. Pulling their husband close, Scott rewarded the compliment with several tender kisses. They brushed their hand against Jimmy’s sensitive feathers, causing him to shiver at the sensation. 

“Scott!” Jimmy gasped suddenly, breaking the kiss. He buried his face into Scott’s shoulder, curling his wings close to his back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Scott frowned, pulling his hand away from Jimmy’s wings. “Was it too much? I can stop.”

“No, I liked it, orchid,” Jimmy reassured him quickly, still keeping his head down. “I like it, I do. At least, I usually like it– you know I do– I just… well, it’s sore, like a pinching sore.” Scott gently guided Jimmy’s head up by his chin so that Jimmy was looking him in the eyes. “I know you prefer to preen with your cousins, but you can always ask me if they need extra maintenance or if someplace starts bothering you in between sessions.”

Jimmy hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I- I won’t protest if you want to take a look.”

“Good, because I want to.” Scott led his husband over to the couch before sitting down and gesturing for Jimmy to sit down in front of him. With his back to Scott, Jimmy spread out his wings, trusting Scott with the delicate feathers. 

“I just did it with Pearl the other day, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” And he was right, it wasn’t bad! Most of the feathers were in place, and none of them looked old and bent. Pearl must have done a good job, which didn’t surprise Scott. Her black crow wings were usually in fairly good shape. “I think I slept on my left wing wrong though. That’s the one that hurts the most.”

Scott took Jimmy’s direction, gaze wandering over to his left wing. They gingerly brushed their fingertips against the rows, not wanting to undo Pearl’s hard work, but still wanting to find what was bothering Jimmy. He only stopped when Jimmy hissed with pain, observing the area to identify the culprit. 

The quill of a broken feather stuck itself into the wing root where it shouldn’t be. It was difficult to spot at first because it was hidden behind Jimmy’s other feathers, but Scott managed to find it. Scott wrapped their hand around the golden yellow feather, ensuring they had a secure grip before sharply pulling it out.

Jimmy yelped loudly, followed quickly by a breath of shuttering relief. He rolled his left shoulder a few times before shaking out his wings so the feathers could settle nicely. “Good void, Scott, thank you. That feels so much better.”

Scott couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug at his success. “You’re welcome, sunflower.”

Before anything else could be said between them, the doorbell to their little cottage on The World Hub rang. Scott and Jimmy exchanged a confused look, both attempting to see if the other knew who that would be. Between participating on game servers and spending time on home servers, they liked to take some time to just be together. Most people didn’t go out of their way to bother them, often busy resting or doing other projects themselves, and, if they did, it was typically over their communicators. Scott couldn’t recall setting up a meet up, either.

The person must have grown impatient, because the doorbell soon started going off several times in rapid succession. Realization hit Scott and he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly who was at the door. “How much do you want to bet that it's Gem?”

“Ohhh!” Jimmy’s mouth gaped as he also came to the realization. “Yeah, no, it’s probably her, orchid. No deal. That would be a bad bet on my end.” Gem was one of the only people who interacted with doorbells like that and knew where their cottage was. It’s location wasn’t something they casually handed out to everyone. It was meant to be a place of rest, after all.

Lo and behold, when Scott opened the door, there Gem stood, braided red hair, signature overalls, and all. She was bouncing on her heels as she waited, but, as soon as the door opened wide enough, she practically jumped into Scott’s arms to give him a hug. “Scott! It’s been so long! Oh, hi Jimmy! Pearl says ‘hi’, by the way.”

“Hey Gem.” Jimmy used the couch to help get himself off of the floor before wandering toward the two of them. “Is Pearl not with you?” “No, she’s visiting Grian and Scar,” Gem informed them as she released herself from the hug, kicking the door closed behind her. “We’re dividing and conquering.”

Jimmy draped his arms over Scott’s shoulders, loosely hugging them from behind as Scott and Gem caught up. He must be feeling clingy, but Scott didn’t mind. He was more than okay with the close contact.

“Oh, so you’re not just here to see your big brother?” Scott teased, poking Gem’s side with one hand and placing their other hand on Jimmy’s. “And here I thought you just liked my company.”

“Ha! You wish,” Gem jested in return, but she soon dropped it. “But I did come for a reason. I have both a gift and an invite! The invite is for both of you.”

Jimmy lifted his head from where it settled against the crook of Scott’s neck, his interest perked. “What’s the invite for?”

“Pearl was lamenting about being between home servers and game servers, and we were both getting a little antsy hanging around The Hub,” Gem explained, gesturing with her hands as she talked, “so we thought we would invite our siblings and their partners for dinner and board games. We decided to ask in person as an excuse to leave the house, so that’s why she’s visiting Grian and Scar, and why I came here. Well, that's part of the reason why I came here, anyway. Are you two free Friday?” Jimmy glanced behind them at the calendar they had hanging on the wall nearby, still curling himself around Scott. “Uhh, yeah, we don’t have anything going on. Sounds fun.”

“Perfect, I’ll let her know.” And apparently she meant right then for she pulled out her communicator and got to typing away.

Meanwhile, Scott was curious about what was in her inventory bag. “You said you had a gift?” “Oh! Right, right, how could I forget?” Gem tucked her comm away before digging in her bag to presumably retrieve whatever the gift was. “We went to the market the other day near our house and a traveling brewist had set up shop. We hit it off well, and they offered me a discount on potions. I got some feminization potions for myself since I was running low, but I got some masculinization ones for you too.” The feminization and masculinization potions were designed to make small changes to one’s core code over time so as to not overwhelm the body and cause potential harm. Servers could make these changes quicker, just as they can with hybridity, but those effects were often temporary additions to one’s code, exclusive to that server. For example, Scott and Gem were elves in their core code, and sometimes elves on servers on Empires S1 (a home server), but Scott turned into some sort of mer-fae during Limited Life (a game server) and Gem donned deer features while on Hermitcraft S9 (another home server). As soon as Scott or Gem world hop to another server or back to The Hub, those additions to their code dissipate. 

Players were created with the expectation that they will grow and develop in ways unable to be predicted. That meant that the features a Player was given at the start didn’t always suit the Player as they gained experience and developed their unique personalities. To amend that, Players can, and often do, take potions (if temp code doesn’t become perma code on its own) to help modify their bodies to fit who they are now that they know better. Experimentation in presentation is highly encouraged, especially in the form of roleplay servers. Scott even knew some people who have changed or added hybridity to their permanent code after having the chance to live with it, though it is known to be painful if the server in question isn’t willing to fully give it to the Player that easily.

“The potions seem to be working well for you,” Gem observed, eyeing Scott up and down with her hands on her hips. “I remember your body being more curvy than it is. Now I’m the curvier one!”

“Yeah, isn’t it great? Trousers are fitting better on me now!” Scott grinned wide with pride at how his body appearance has changed. While he has always held himself with confidence, he felt much more comfortable in his body since he started going beyond a simple social transition. Scott barely noticed the dysphoria that used to be so debilitating! “And I’m not relying on layers as much anymore.”

“Me too!” Gem’s face lit up, green eyes sparkling with joy. “I wore a sundress the other day and it felt fantastic! A sundress, Scott! It was so wonderful. Seeing you now is weird, though. You’re starting to look more and more like me pre-transition.”

Scott made a face at that. “More like you’re looking like me pre-transition!”

“Nu-huh,” Gem disagreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yuh-huh,” Scott responded just as maturely, sticking out his tongue at her.

The back and forth went on for about a minute before Gem flipped Scott off. Before Scott could react, Gem rushed to put the potions on a nearby table. Her back was turned to them, so she couldn’t see if Scott returned it or not– which everyone knows that if one didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

“Wow, it’s almost like you two are siblings and have some of the same core code,” Jimmy cut into their immature banter, playfully sarcastic. “I never would have guessed you would have similar features to one another. Honestly, the thought never crossed my mind.”

“Smartass,” Scott accused lightheartedly, nipping his fingers with his slightly sharpened teeth when Gem wasn’t looking. If Gem saw, she would never let him hear the end of it. 

Jimmy’s breathing hitched for a moment before he retaliated by biting down on the crevice between Scott’s neck and shoulder. Scott’s body tensed as he tried to suppress the unholy noise building in his throat. Jimmy soothed the bite by peppering kisses against the mark.

“Jimothy,” Scott warned in a hushed voice, embarrassed about almost moaning when his sister was right there. Jimmy took the hint and let go just as Gem spun on her heel to face them once more.

“And that is my cue to leave,” Gem announced with a scrunched nose because void forbid Scott acted romantically with their husband. Scott wasn’t offended by her disgust, though. They knew that she was only doing her little sister duties and that they would do the same to her. Besides, he’s teased her more than his fair share about Pearl, so perhaps he deserved this. “I’ll give you two lovebirds some space, but I expect to see you Friday!”

“We’ll be there,” Scott promised, and Jimmy echoed his agreement. When Gem left, Scott turned to Jimmy with a flirty smirk. “Now, where were we, sunflower?” “Kisses and then cuddles on the couch?” Jimmy guessed, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s hips. His fingers slipped underneath Scott’s shirt, brushing against their sensitive torso. “Lots and lots of kisses?”

“Good birdie,” Scott praised him simply to see Jimmy’s face flush, scratching his nails in Jimmy’s blonde hair. A chirp squeaked in Jimmy’s throat as his hold on Scott’s torso tightened. Void, he’s adorable when he’s flustered. 

They leaned in to initiate the kiss and Jimmy eagerly met them in the middle. Their lips slotted together perfectly as their hands wandered the other’s body. They were well acquainted with one another and what they liked after years of marriage.

While Scott enjoyed world hopping and exploring new servers, some of their favorite memories came from times like this, time spent with his husband. These simple moments of bliss with Jimmy were very dear to his heart, and he never planned on letting them go.

[sageispunk]

main masterlist

updated: 12/14/24 | ⭐️ smut | 🐚 fluff | 🥀 angst | 🖤 dark |

✦ the bear (hulu)

'might be' - Richie Jerimovich x f!reader ⭐️

The first time you meet 🍃 dealer Richie.

'he finds out ur a squirter' - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Passionate missionary with bf Richie talking you through it.

'looking ahead' - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Richie can't help but to watch. Even if you didn't mean to leave your door open. (dubcon)

breeding kink drabble - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Richie can't wait until you're finally knocked up with his baby.

✦ they cloned tyrone

'drown in it' - Fontaine x black!reader ⭐️

He makes you squirt on his face. Happily.

NSFW alphabet - Fontaine x black! reader ⭐️

The ABCs of Fontaine's love.

'eyes on me' - Fontaine x black! reader ⭐️ (Ao3)

You're a little too interested in Fontaine's weapons.

✦ rebel ridge (2024)

'anointed' - Terry Richmond x black!reader ⭐️

When he eats you through the panties.

'red lipstick' - maintenance man!Terry Richmond x black!OC ⭐️

Don't let your husband stop you from finding the love of your life...

'wetter' - Terry Richmond x black!reader⭐️🐚

[shower sex, sub!Terry]

✦ the usos

'told you so' - Jey Uso x black!OC Ravyn ⭐️

[infidelity, teasing, crazy dirty talk, rough sex]

'belongs to another' - Jimmy Uso x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀

[friends with benefits, infidelity, weed use]

untitled - Jey Uso x black!reader ⭐️

[alcohol use, groping, teasing]

✦ triple frontier

‘too divine’ - Frankie Morales x f!reader ⭐️

Riding Frankie after a long night out.

✦ marvel

'just one more' - Matt Murdock x f!reader ⭐️

Matthew is out of town but you still need him. (Ktober prompt: phone sex)

'wriggle' - Erik Stevens x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[roommates, teasing, tickling kink]

✦ the last of us (hbo)

'what u need' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Teasing Joel underneath a table in a bar sometimes leads to getting ruined on the side of the road.

'melting' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Joel wants to try something new. (Ktober prompt: temperature play)

'sticky' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Joel wants to learn. So you let him. (Ktober prompt: squirting + masturbation)

'inside'- Joel Miller x mistress ⭐️🥀 (Ao3)

When the cat's away, the mice will play.

✦ how high (2001)

'what's it gonna be?' - Silas x black!reader ⭐️🐚

When two friends finally get a night alone...

'as nature intended' - Silas x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[weed use, hairy coochie praise, breeding kink mention]

✦ formula 1

'foolish' - Lewis Hamilton x black!reader ⭐️🥀

Cause I can't seem to break away from your foolish love...

✦ misc.

'control' - Max Phillips x f!reader ⭐️

Drinking with your boss goes differently than you'd planned. (Ktober prompt: sex pollen, thigh-riding, forced orgasm)

'4/20' - Terrance Coin x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[weed use, neighbors to lovers, age gap]

'sweet dreams' - Gustavo Fring x reader ⭐️🖤 (Ao3)

When Mr. Fring finally gets his hands on you...

✦ series & AUs

'the first taste' - vamp!Lewis Hamilton x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀🖤

What do you do when one night just isn't enough?

'all the way down' - Clifford Smith x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀

When a night of spontaneity spirals into a full-blown affair out of your control.

'same ol' mistakes' - Jordan x reader x Sophie ⭐️🐚🥀

When they love you more than they hate each other...

'crush' - blackfem!OCs x black!OCs⭐️🐚🥀

Oneshot series based on each song of Ravyn Lenae's Crush EP.

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Roxy x Reader fic (hurt/comfort)

EDIT: A more polished version is now up on ao3. If you're re-reading it or sending it to someone, then the ao3 version is preferred, but it's not changed enough that I would necessarily suggest re-reading it again if you weren't already going to. <3

For some reason, last night, I decided that it was imperative I write and release a Roxy x Reader oneshot before Ruin. (ETA: To be clear I mean I wrote this before Ruin released, therefore it contains NO SPOILERS. <3) It's an idea I've had for awhile and was going to do as a comic but decided to expand it and write it out instead. I may post a more polished version to ao3 at a later date.

Fun fact: Roxy was my first FNAF crush, before SB even came out. So Ruin will have many chances to break my heart.

Word count: ~3200

----

When the Pizzaplex burned down, none of your colleagues had seemed particularly interested in returning to the ruins. You could understand…some of the techs arriving for the morning shift had been caught in the blaze, and while there were no casualties, there had been some injuries. Yourself included.

After a few weeks in the hospital, the burn mark across your face was just an angry red scar, and the singed hair you’d had to cut off had regrown enough for you to wear a slightly uneven pixie cut.

The other techs said you were crazy to want to go back. The future of Fazbear Inc was uncertain, and the animatronics themselves were just that. Animatronics. Machines. Not worth putting yourself in danger for.

But you’d come to consider Roxy a friend. Sometimes you thought she considered you one, too. She didn’t seem like she would readily admit such a thing even if it were true.

She had at least liked you as a tech, if not as a person. You were the only one who could do her pre-show checks and weekly maintenance without ruining her hair, at least according to her. According to the other techs, Roxanne’s hair was always fine.

You quickly learned that to Roxy, “fine” was equivalent to a reprehensible failure. A disaster. A complete horrific mess. 

You didn’t think your experience with costuming (specifically wigs) in your college’s theater club would ever be something you used after you graduated, but life is full of surprises.

You wander through the corridors of your ruined, burned out workplace, flashlight in hand. You have a few guesses as to where Roxy might be. You desperately hope she’s okay. The structure is mostly intact, but there are a few collapsed portions and fallen bits of decor. You think as long as Roxy had been able to avoid the worst of the heat, she’d be mostly alright.

You make your way to Rockstar Row, your workboots crunching on the debris as you walk.

As you approach Roxy’s room, you hear something that makes you freeze.

Crying.

For a moment you wonder if another tech, or perhaps some urban explorer or rubbernecker is in here with you. Then you recognize the voice behind the sobs.

Roxanne is crying? You’re more surprised than you probably should be. But you’d seen behind her mask a couple times. Behind the vanity, haughtiness, and borderline entitlement, you had occasionally glimpsed a profound insecurity. Beneath it all, you don’t think Roxy actually likes herself very much.

You swipe your badge on the door, and it actually dings and slides open. Or tries to. Something jams it halfway and you have to wedge yourself into the doorframe and push the door open the rest of the way.

Roxy, who had been sitting at her vanity, head in her hands, perks up. Her ears twitch as she glances around. “Who’s there?” she calls out.

You open your mouth to speak, only to leave it hanging open in surprise as you see how badly she’s damaged. So much of her exoskeleton is missing, exposing the endoskeleton underneath. Her hair is a tangled, singed mess and her tail isn’t much better. But most horrifying, her eyes are completely gone.

“Who’s there?!” Roxy repeats, a growl in her voice as she stands up and starts stalking towards you. You can hear the servos and joints in her body creak in protest as she moves.

“R-Roxy, it’s me!” you say before hastily blurting out your name.

She stops, her ears twitching and her claws grasping at the air. At first you think she’s baring her teeth at you, but you quickly realize her broken faceplate has put one side of her mouth in a permanent snarl.

She huffs, turning away. She skulks back to her vanity, plopping down in her chair and burning her broken face in her shattered hands. “What do you want?” she mutters.

You tense, taken aback. “Wh-What do you think I want, Roxy?” you ask incredulously, slowly moving towards her. “I-I wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to help you. I was…terrified you’d…been destroyed,” you say quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She pulls away with a growl. “I have been destroyed! Just--Just look at me!” The rage in her voice doesn’t fully mask her despair, nor does it completely hide her fear. Fear of what? Of what could have happened? Of how close she came to being permanently deactivated?

Her command was clearly rhetorical, for she lowers her head further, digging her claws into what remains of her scalp.

“Roxy…all this can be fixed…” you say gently.

“No it can’t!” she snaps. “I already checked. Parts and Services is a pile of rubble now.”

“Well…what about the loading docks? Maybe we can at least find some new eyes for you…”

She scoffs. “Oh good. Then I can see myself. Because feeling all this isn’t bad enough,” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Roxy--”

“FINE!” she growls, pushing back from her vanity abruptly. If the chair weren’t screwed into the floor she surely would have toppled it over. “Fine. Let’s just go.”

You flinch nervously, nodding. Remembering her blindness, you quickly say, “Okay. Here,” you say gently putting a hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” she snaps, though she sounds somewhat less defensive and a bit…nervous? Embarrassed? With a huff, she adds, “I’ll just follow your footsteps.”

You bite back a sigh. “Alright,” you say patiently.

You lead the way out of her green room towards the long stairway down to the loading docks. You’re not about to risk trying to take the elevator.

“Here, careful on the stairs,” you say, gently taking her arm again. This time she allows it, albeit with some reluctance as she gives you what probably would have been a withering look if her faceplate had been intact.

It’s a long way down and neither of you want to rush. The sound of your softer footfalls and her heavier ones as you both pick your way down the stairs echoes through the stairwell.

Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk.

You watch her carefully. She seems too focused on making it down the stairs to be too sulky for the moment. Small blessings, you suppose. Still, the silence is only stretching out your descent.

“It sounds like one of your knees is out of alignment,” you say eventually.

“The left one,” she confirms a bit gruffly. “I can manage.”

“I can see that,” you say gently. “It took me awhile to notice something was even wrong. You carry yourself well,” you say, smiling a bit.

Roxy grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t preen even a little at the praise. That’s unusual for her…compliments usually cheer her up.

“Maybe I can find a new hinge while we’re--”

“Why are you doing this?” she cuts you off.

“W-What do you mean?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the flight of stairs.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean,” she says. Before you can speak, she continues, “This whole place is finished. Nobody’s coming back to rebuild. What’s the point of you patching me up?”

“I told you, Roxy…I was worried…” you start as you resume your climb down the stairs.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you!” you say, exasperated as you reach the bottom of the stairs. You keep your hand on her arm as you make your way down the corridor, and she doesn’t protest.

She snorts. “You care about a pile of scrap?”

You wish she could see the glare you give her at that. “You are NOT a pile of scrap! You’re just a little scuffed.”

“More than a little,” she huffs.

You sigh. “Okay, maybe a little more than a little,” you admit. You force a smile. “But hey…I’m the perfect tech, remember? If anyone can get you fixed up, it’s me, isn’t it?”

You weren’t normally any kind of braggart. Roxy had been the only one to ever call you the perfect tech, though you feel like that was almost more a point of pride for herself rather than for you. As if she were praising herself for being deserving of the best tech more than she’s praising you for being the best tech. But you still liked hearing it…and sometimes it really did seem like she was directing the praise at you.

Roxy turns her head towards you, her ears swiveling forward. It’s hard to read her expression with her broken faceplate, but eventually one side of her mouth ticks up into a small smile. “...Yeah…” she admits softly.

You squeeze her arm gently, careful to not touch any of the sharper broken off bits.

Once you get to the loading dock, you guide her to sit down on a crate while you look through some of the recent part shipments.

The fire had somehow spared much of this place, but the collapse of P & S had rippled partially through the area and several patches of ceiling had fallen, knocking over piles of crates and leaving the whole place in disarray.

Eventually you find a crate that has the P & S stamp on the wooden slats, and figure that’s a promising place to start. You grab a crowbar and begin trying to pry it open in any way you can.

Roxy’s ears perk and she turns towards you. “What are you doing?”

“Trying--urg--to get this crate open,” you grunt.

She stands and walks towards you. “Let me,” she says. She reaches towards you, trying to determine your position.

You take her hand, your fingers weaving in hers for a moment before you guide her hand to the crate.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside.

“Well…pretty silly to make a human do all the heavy lifting,” she says, digging her claws into one of the planks. The wood splinters and creaks and is readily ripped free.

You smile weakly. “You’re right…these arms would never have a fraction of your strength,” you say. Jokingly, you lift your arm and flex…only to realize Roxy won’t be able to see it.

Probably for the best. It was a dumb joke anyway.

She snorts, actually preening a bit as she pulls another board free. “Even busted…” she agrees softly. Her tone is slightly melancholy…as if she doesn’t fully believe it.

She pulls another board free, and you put a hand on her shoulder. “I think that’s enough for now,” you say, guiding her back to the crate she had been sitting on before.

You begin pulling the smaller boxes from the shipping crate, cutting them open and rummaging through them, looking for anything usable. 

Once again, the silence stretches on.

After finding nothing useful in the first two boxes, you glance back at Roxanne. Her hand is over her face, her middle finger slowly tracing the cracks near where her eyes had been. The quiet isn’t doing her any favors.

You shove the box you were looking through aside and pull out another, cutting it open. “Roxy?” you break the silence.

“Mm?” she grunts, still more focused on her faceplate than you.

“You…d’you um…remember that time we ran out of driver bots and that angry dad yelled at me?”

She pauses briefly, turning her head towards you. “What about it?” she asks before going back to feeling her faceplate.

“You remember what you said to me?”

“I called you an idiot.” Was that a touch of guilt you detect in her tone?

You laugh weakly, nodding. “Yes. But you remember why?”

“For letting a loser like that get under your skin,” she says plainly.

“Right,” you say, smiling. “I think about that a lot, you know.”

Roxy scoffs. “Really? Freddy said I was too rude,” she says. If she had eyes she would have rolled them.

You let out a gentle chuckle. “Well…maybe a bit,” you admit, earning a slightly sulky huff from her. “But there was truth to it, y’know? And I think about it a lot. It uh…it’s…helped me. Deal with people like him.”

She cants her head, one ear flicking curiously. It’s a cute expression even with her broken faceplate. “It…did?”

“Yeah,” you say, pulling out another box and opening it. “I-I mean…you were right. I knew he was a loser but I still told myself his opinion meant something. But it doesn’t, y’know?”

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly.

The conversation lapses again, and you try to resist the urge to slow your search in order to come up with a new topic. Luckily, it is Roxy who picks the next topic.

“You remember that time a birthday party ran long, and I was late getting back to the recharge station?”

You freeze. Oh you do remember. You remember that evening well. The animatronics tend to get a little quirky when their battery dips below five percent. Something about a power save mode cutting power to random systems. Usually mobility, but somehow, their…inhibitions, for lack of a better term, also seemed to go by the wayside. As far as you know nobody ever quite understood why, but it was a little like getting loopy from lack of sleep, or even a bit tipsy.

Roxy smirks, hearing your stunned silence. “You do.”

“Y-Yeah…I…I wasn’t sure if you did, though.”

“I remember the important parts.” Before you can start to wonder what the “important parts” are in her mind, she continues, “You’d finally used that salon voucher I gave you for your birthday. Gotten your hair done. Actually wore it down. I never understand why you hide such long pretty hair up that bun.”

You fluster a bit. “Th-The dress code--”

“Oh, you do it without the dress code,” she scoffs, flicking a hand dismissively.

You clear your throat awkwardly, pausing to rub at your cheeks as if you can wipe the blush away. “W-What’s your battery at, by the way?”

She snorts. “Just an idle wondering?” she smirks. “It’s twenty-two percent.”

So it’s not her low battery talking…

Roxy continues, “You know…if you can find a set of replacement eyes…I wouldn’t mind seeing your hair down again,” she says, actually sounding wistful, of all things. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard her sound wistful.

You sigh softly, running a hand over your chopped off hair. “Y-Yeah…” you say, noncommittally.

She glances at you questioningly, sensing something in your tone. But before she can comment, you cut open another box, and find it has the spare eyes you’ve been looking for.

“Found the eyes!” you say. Some of the happiness in your tone is genuine. You grab two amber ones, going over to her. “They’re just standard optics, so you won’t see as well as you’re used to, but…it’ll do for now,” you say, guiding her to lay on the floor.

Her smile fades slightly and she nods, reality setting back in. Despite your claims that you could repair her, she wasn’t convinced she’d ever be as good as she was before. “Guess it’ll have to,” she mumbles.

You put a flashlight in her hand and position her arm to shine it down on her faceplate, giving you light to work with. Your toolkit is beside you, with some extra lengths of wire and soldering iron to work with. As you cut away the burned wires, murmuring apologies whenever Roxy flinches, your mind drifts back to that evening.

Her power had been at one percent when you finally coaxed her into her recharge station. Before you did, though, she had leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. You think she had been trying to nuzzle your cheek. Even “drunk” you don’t think she wanted to kiss you like that.

Neither of you had ever spoken of that night again, until today. She must not remember the kiss, you decide. She wouldn’t bring up that night at all if she did.

The truth is you’ve carried a small flame for her ever since then. Or perhaps a little longer, if you were more honest with yourself. Nothing you couldn’t ignore most of the time, of course…but something that had occasionally managed to put a bit of warmth in your heart when you allowed it to.

But none of those silly little what-ifs you’d allowed yourself to daydream of would ever come to pass now.

You wire in the eyes, then carefully fit them into their sockets. As they come online, the attached eyelids blink shut against the light.

You quickly turn away, keeping your back to her as you pack up your toolkit. “Th-They working okay?” you ask. It’s silly to turn away like this. You can’t possibly delay her seeing your scar for more than a couple minutes. Why even bother trying?

She moves the flashlight out of her eyes and sits up, looking around. “Yes,” she says. She pauses. “...Better than I thought. I forgot the standard optics still have night vision.”

You laugh weakly. “Another thing you have over me, then,” you say in what you had meant to be a good natured tone, but you couldn’t quite keep the melancholy from your voice.

Roxy catches it and glances at you curiously. She stands up, then reaches down a hand to help you up.

Well. No more putting it off.

You bow your head slightly as you turn to take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. When you stand before her, you finally lift your head to look into her eyes, giving a small, tentative smile that borders on apologetic.

Roxy stares down at you, her mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Wh-What…happened…?”

You sigh, glancing away slightly. “I-I…got to work early, and…I was upstairs when the fire started. It…spread so fast I…had to cut through some pretty bad areas. I-I mean. I guess, something like that…I-I don’t really remember…” you say, your voice starting to shake.

Roxy’s hand is on your cheek, turning your face back towards her as she examines your scar.

You feel your face growing warm. “I-I don’t know how I got the scar, really…The EMTs found me passed out in the employee parking lot.”

Roxy smiles sadly. “You were strong enough to save yourself.”

You blush deeply at the compliment, lowering your gaze. “I-I guess so…”

She runs her thumb over the scar, tracing the ridges of the shiny, discolored skin. “Can it be repaired?” she asks, her tone more gentle than you’ve ever heard from her.

You shake your head, resisting the urge to nuzzle into her palm as you do. “Not…really. My hair will grow back and the scar will probably fade a bit, eventually, but…it’ll…probably be pretty noticeable for the rest of my life…” You feel tears brimming at your eyes and force out a weak laugh. “C-Can’t really…uh…s-switch faceplates on a human…y-y’know?” you say in a wavering tone.

Roxy hums quietly, bringing her other hand up to cup your other cheek. “No need,” she says, lowering her head and gently nosing at your scar.

Your breath stills at her words, your eyes widening in surprise. You’re almost not sure you heard right.

She pulls back, smiling down at you tenderly. “You’re still beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing her lips to yours.

[across-violet-skies]

another short oneshot for the Queering the Chain event!!!

prompt: gender euphoria

event host: @queering-the-chain

preview under the cut!!! <3

It had been a long week. Between surviving in Hyrule’s world, traversing Wild’s Dueling Peaks, and dealing with Legend in Wind’s world, the Chain was exhausted.

The portal to Lon Lon Ranch was a blessing. A very, very overdue blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

All nine of their number were dropped rather unceremoniously in the grass, each of them groaning and nauseous. Four gagged, hair held back by Twilight as they tried to hold onto their lunch. 

“Oh, thank Hylia!” Sky exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest. “The ranch!”

Time’s ears perked. The ranch? His home? That would mean-

“Well howdy there, darlin’s!” Malon greeted, grinning brightly. One hand supported a horse saddle, resting on her hip. “Always nice when y’all get to stop by the ranch!”

Twilight lets go of Four’s hair, giving the smithy a gentle pat on the back. “Howdy, Miss Malon,” he greets, dipping his head. “Need any help with that saddle?”

“Well, aren’t you a dear!” She held the saddle out, smile bright. “If you wouldn’t mind, this needs to go to the barn.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Twilight stepped closer, allowing Malon to drop the saddle in his arms. Twilight caught it with a grunt of effort, mild surprise in his expression from the weight.

Legend yawned. “Well, I’m going to take a nap. Don’t bother me for at least…” He squinted up at the sky. “...three hours.”

“I’m joining him.” Warriors tossed a thumb back at Legend, who was already halfway to the ranch house.

Wild waved a shy hand. “Hi Miss Malon. Is it okay if-”

“Wild, sweetheart, the kitchen is open for whatever you need,” Malon offered.

“Just don’t burn the house down,” Time added, lifting a finger.

Wild grinned. “Thank you!” They were already running toward the house.

Four groaned. “I might nap as well.” They stretched, cracking their neck. “Maybe later I can do some weapon maintenance.”

“Get some rest, darlin’,” Malon encouraged gently. “Y’all must be exhausted.”

Wind mumbled under his breath, following the smithy. Presumably, he was also going to take a nap, despite not seeming too happy about it.

Sky smiled. “Well, if the rest of them are going…” He shrugged, eyes crinkled. “I’ll see you later!”

“Um…” Hyrule fiddled with faer hands, shrugging awkwardly. “Can I go play with the fairies?”

Malon chuckled. “You don’t have to ask permission, sweetheart.” She waved them on, smiling encouragingly.

“Be back before sundown,” Time added, calling after the excited traveler.

And then there were two.

-> read the rest on ao3!!

[toomanytookas]

Pedro Pascal Fandom Bingo (+ April Reading Roundup)

@burntheedges is a genius and the creation of this bingo game is proof! I love how this has been encouraging me to reach out to people and broaden my reading, Kate. I'm posting this even though I'm late to the party because it's also helping me realise that I was actually quite active this past month even though I've been feeling down about not being as engaged! Here’s to an eventual board blackout. 🥂✨

I definitely did not plan to somehow fill so many squares without getting a bingo, it’s kinda wild. 🤷‍♀️

Spaces I’ve Marked So Far (as of 30 April)

This is just turning into my roundup of April reading because I couldn't handle leaving out any of the wonderful things I read this month!

I’ve tried to provide a super brief summary of each fic as a taster (obvs more info is provided by the author on each fic’s actual page). If you’re an author whose work is listed here and feel I’ve misrepresented your fic, let me know and I can change the little blurb/status! <3

List is alpha sorted by character then by author.

✅ Read and reblog a character that needs more love - Ben (my first!) visiting - @ladamedusoif - chaptered (ongoing) > Art history professor Lydia takes a visiting post that leads her to meet a certain lit professor, Ben Morales.

✅ Read and reblog a Dieter fic: park - burntheedges - oneshot > Reader encounters a snoozing Dieter in the park Recovery Road - @chronically-ghosted - chaptered (complete) > An epic-length tale of an ill-fated affair between actors (and their better-timed second chance at love). I'm Not in Love (If Wishes Came True) - @schnarfer - series (complete) > Dieter can’t help but sabotage his relationship with MUA reader (but first we get to enjoy the delightful, enchanting beginnings)

✅ Read and reblog an Ezra fic: be your hallowed ground - @kedsandtubesocks - oneshot (complete) > demon!Ezra lures reader off the beaten path and into a bit of delicious sin.

✅ Read and reblog a Frankie M fic: watch - @luxurychristmaspudding - series (ongoing) > Frankie and reader’s instant chemistry is brought back into play in their dynamic with Joel and Santi Be Good for Me - @pascalssbabyy - oneshot > Subby Frankie gets treated to some tasty pre-bedtime activities with reader. Up Sky, Low High - @undercoverpena - oneshot > Frankie and reader have a bit (a lot) of fun while on a helicopter ride. (Also a major shout out to Jo's Do Me Yourself. I'm an ao3 reader of Frankie & Rainy because of a weird mental hangup, so it doesn't count for bingo, but it's a story that means a lot to me!)

✅ Read & reblog a Javi P fic: Paranoid Heart - @goodwithcheese - chaptered (complete) > Two souls who are a bit too worldly wise for Laredo meet through their parents and fall for one another. 

✅ Read and reblog a Joel M fic: Maintenance Request - burntheedges - chaptered (ongoing) > Lit prof reader and [hey we know his job title now!] Joel meet as he works on facilities maintenance and landscaping around campus come morning light (safe and sound) - @janaispunk - chaptered (ongoing) > Joel & Ellie crash land at the reader’s home post Joel getting stabbed. Most Ardently (Nicest Things) - schnarfer - chaptered (ongoing) > Reader’s uncle’s neighbor, Joel, is everything her boyfriend isn’t—caring, attentive, and happy to help her read Austen while her hands are busy

✅ Read and reblog a Marcus M fic (my first!): Afterword - @secretelephanttattoo - chaptered (ongoing) > New-in-town reader makes an instant connection with local stationery shop owner Marcus

✅ Read and reblog a Marcus P fic: I'm Here - @davnittbraes - (open?) series > Reader discovers Marcus is the softdom she didn’t know she could ask for. in shades of gray and candlelight - @freelancearsonist - oneshot > Marcus meets reader at a gallery opening for a case. Raining in Baltimore - schnarfer - oneshot > Soggy Marcus angsts after a fight with reader.

✅ Read & reblog a Tim R fic: i don't wanna be me (bloody kisses) - @perotovar - series (ongoing) > Shane’s gay awakening is full of angst and a bit of getting into trouble. Good thing he has Tim Rockford to turn to as his gentle guide.

✅ Create & share a rec list: discovering lit through fic ✅ Send 3 people a fun ask: I passed this ask meme along! ✅ Send an ask to 3 people you never have before

The pie and bar charts are stowed away this month since I've got this bingo graphic instead, but for my own number-loving brain: In April, I read 320k words from 19 distinct works written by 14 authors. I made 47 comments across tumblr and ao3 (~13k words).

[drivinmeinsane]

Driver (Drive) x Ken (Barbie) ※ { masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: He twists his house key in the door and turns the knob to open it. Locked. Adjusting the basket resting against his hip, he frowns and tries his key again. The door unlocks this time. The knob is slippery in his grasp. When he pulls his hand away, it’s covered in more of that red stuff from the elevator. ※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ※ Content/tags: Detailed description of injury, Stab Wound, Wound Fingering, Coming In Pants, Blood and Gore, Home Treatment of Severe Injury, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Aftercare, Non-sexual Nudity, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Some reference to James Sallis's Drive novel ※ Word count: 4,988 ※ Status: Oneshot ※ Author's note: I can't help but put Driver in situations. This is a wildly self-indulgent result of a thought that wouldn't stop plaguing me, please use caution. ※ Song inspiration: Kiss Me You Animal - Burn the Ballroom

Something must be loose in the dryer because the machine keeps rattling with a sinister clank as it spins the clothing inside. Ken will have to ask for Driver’s help in filling out a maintenance request form to slip into the little box outside of the apartment building’s office. His spelling has gotten better. He knows so many more words now, but he still wants a second pair of eyes to make sure he’s not making too many mistakes.

Ken flaps a hand at his face. The poor attempt at a fan barely stirs the strands of hair plastered to his forehead. It’s humid in the basement in a way that reminds Ken of the reptile building at the zoo Driver had taken him to. It had been the first time the other man had let him hold his hand around other people. That memory keeps him eagerly coming back down to this dimly lit room to do laundry during the hottest part of the day. In the solitude of the basement laundry facility, he can relive the memory time and time again.

It doesn’t hurt that doing the laundry is something that he enjoys. He’s good at it, even better at it than he was at beach. It’s one of the few things that he can do that make him feel like he’s contributing. The task allows him to feel important to Driver. The other man takes care of him so thoroughly that these little chores are the least he can do. They’re boyfriend-boyfriend after all.

He stands up from the little chair that had been left in the laundry room by some other resident as soon as the dryer buzzes to signal that the cycle is complete. The blond man hums to himself as he scoops the dry clothing into a basket. He’s looking forward to getting the clothes folded or hung up as needed and put away. He’s done a good job, a good enough of one that Driver will probably praise him in that quiet way of his. The promise of an eye crinkling smile and a pass of boyfriend’s hand over his head is enough to get Ken thinking about other ways he can please the wheelman.

Ken has started cooking some nights. If Driver doesn’t bring something home after he gets off work this evening, he might make dinner. The mechanic always seems surprised when he cooks, looks at him in a wary way that Ken doesn’t understand. He also never eats at the small, folding table, choosing to sit on the couch instead. Ken always joins him on the couch. If he sits just right, their knees brush.

As a result of another one of Driver’s quirks, they never have sandwiches. Ken made some for them one night and Driver had taken one look at the two plates and left their apartment unit without a word. He remembers waiting a bewildered half hour before he left to try to find his boyfriend. He’d found him sitting in his parked car, staring through the pitted windshield with the look of a haunted man. Driver had apologized to him, rubbed his knuckles over Ken’s thigh as soon as he joined him and sat in the passenger seat. He had quietly explained to him that that kind of food is as upsetting to him as beer is to Ken. He’d understood immediately. Bad memories can live on in the strangest of things. He doesn’t need to know the details before the other man is ready.

He might try making pasta tonight. They’d had some recently at a restaurant. He had liked the little corkscrew shapes with the cream sauce and even the mushrooms that had been mixed in. Perhaps he could check with his boyfriend to see if pecans are a suitable addition to that kind of thing.

After gathering up the detergent and dryer sheets and tossing them into the basket, he picks up the entire bundle. It’s an easy walk to the elevator. As Ken presses the button for their floor, his eyes catch on a small, red smear. He frowns. Someone must have not washed their hands. Is it jelly? Paint maybe?

The elevator doors open and Ken steps out into the sun-bathed hallway. He pulls his keys free from his pocket. A plastic scorpion dangles from the key ring. Ken had insisted on it because it reminds him of Driver’s white jacket. He’s taken to holding it and burying his face in Driver’s pillow when the mechanic has been gone for too long. When his boyfriend is on night jobs, he usually falls asleep that way. Ken always wakes up when the other man gently eases the keys out of his hand and slips into bed beside him to wrap an exhausted arm over his waist. Ken is not sure which of them needs physical contact more. Maybe they’re equal in that way.

Even when Driver is barely able to keep his eyes open, he still checks in with Ken and gives him what he needs. Be it listening to him talk about his day or working a calloused hand over his cock. He makes Ken feel loved, and he tries his best to make Driver feel the same affection in return. Ken knows all too well what it’s like to pour yourself into someone and not be met in the middle.

Ken doesn’t blame Barbie anymore, not really. They weren’t right for each other and he can see that after the gift of time and distance. She wasn’t what he needed and he wasn’t what she needed. Ken knows he has what he needs now, what’s good for him.

He twists his house key in the door and turns the knob to open it. Locked. Adjusting the basket resting against his hip, he frowns and tries his key again. The door unlocks this time. The knob is slippery in his grasp. When he pulls his hand away, it’s covered in more of that red stuff from the elevator.

The blond man pushes the door open and closes it behind him. There is more red smeared on the kitchen entryway wall. More startling, is the presence of a hand print that would nearly match his own hand if he were to put it on top of the mark.

A cursory look around leads to him spotting Driver’s keys laying on the kitchen counter. The horse charm on the key ring is resting on the rabbit’s foot like a pillow. His boyfriend is home.

“Driver?” he calls out, worry building up in his chest.

A low noise comes from the bathroom, almost like the whine of the wounded coyote Ken had watched Driver move off the side of the road a few months ago. Ken hastily sets the basket down in the narrow hall before taking hurried steps through the cramped kitchen to their equally small bathroom. He nearly clips himself on the fridge handle as he passes by.

The door is slightly ajar and he pushes it the rest of the way open to reveal Driver sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. His boyfriend is slumped back against the tank, legs spread wide. The jean jacket he’d been wearing when he left for work at the garage this morning is off and thrown carelessly in the tub. Ken’s eyes immediately go to the shock of red saturating the other man’s abdomen. It’s welling up between the fingers the mechanic has pressed tightly against himself. He’s bleeding.

The shine of the blood in the stark overhead lighting reminds Ken of the cherry filling from a pie at the diner Driver takes him to on special nights. His mouth reflexively waters at the sight. He tears his eyes away from the mess on his partner’s stomach up to his face. Driver looks tense, eyes tight, mouth set in a faint grimace.

“Are you alright?” Ken asks, “I don’t…” he trails off. He has a vague idea of what might be going on, from the movies and shows he’s seen over the months that he’s been in the real world, but injuries, big ones... they’re just pretend when it’s people, right?

Driver grunts and gives him a nod. There is a sheen of sweat across his face. Their extensive “first-aid kit”, as Driver calls the plastic toolbox crammed with supplies, sits precariously on the bathroom sink. It doesn’t look as though he has made much progress with it. The lid is still tightly closed.

“What happened?” Ken prompts, knowing that his boyfriend won’t be the one to start a conversation.

A small exhale, a sigh. “Guy didn’t like Shannon’s price ‘n pulled a knife. Changed his mind though.”

It’s easy to fill in the holes of what Driver doesn’t say, won’t say because he doesn’t want to worry him. He’s a good man. Ken knows couldn’t stand for his boss to be hurt so he got into the middle of it and managed to get the upset customer to pay up. The ex-doll has heard Driver make plenty of annoyed noises about Mr. Shannon, but he still cares. Driver always cares, no matter what it does to him. That’s why Ken is around. He helps him remember that he’s not disposable.

“Can I see it?” Ken asks, with a gesture at the seated man’s midsection.

Wordlessly, Driver lets his hand fall from his stomach. It rests on his thigh, relaxed but prepared to correct him if he goes too far. Sometimes Ken needs the correction, he knows he can get too enthusiastic, but that’s why he needs Driver. Driver looks out for him just as much as Ken looks out for him, maybe even more since Ken knows he can’t do much.

Mesmerized by the vibrant color, Ken lowers himself to his knees for a better look. He reaches out and pulls the hem of Driver’s soaked shirt up to his ribs. It sticks there when he lets got to trail his fingers down the warm skin to the slowly trickling tear in the other man’s abdomen. He feels Driver’s stomach hitch and tense beneath his touch. The wound is just to the upper right of his belly button. The edges of it are slightly jagged.

He traces the outline of the injury. His fingers go slick with blood. Driver shudders.

Impulsively, unable to resist the desire to be closer to the other man, to find a home nestled in the sturdy shelter of Driver’s body, he pushes his index finger into the wound. It slides in with no resistance, as though welcoming the intrusion with open arms.

There’s a choked off noise from the other man, almost a breathy groan. His bloody right hand rises to clamp down on Ken’s shoulder. He merely holds on, not pushing him away.

“Is this okay?” Ken asks. Part of him knows that it isn’t, that it can’t be.

Driver gives him a nod, eyes burning bright. His face is flushed, the color spreading down his neck and barely gracing the sliver of exposed chest Ken can see in the gap of his unbuttoned Henley. The visual of Driver wetting his lips with his tongue is enough to send Ken stretching up to kiss him. The other man readily accepts the attention, groaning and panting against his mouth with every slight jostle of Ken’s finger inside of him.

He pulls away to look at what he’s doing. Driver follows the motion, and they both look at where they’re joined. The tissue pulses hotly around his finger. It’s wet, a different kind of wet than Driver’s mouth. The liquid is thick, almost silky against his skin. Ken eases his finger out until just the tip remains and pushes it back in. The hand on his shoulder tightens as the wheelman lets out another low noise. Driver’s thumb rubs back and forth over Ken’s collarbone, encouraging.

Feeling bolder, Ken slides out enough to slot his middle finger in alongside his index before coaxing both inside. It’s a tight fit, causing his boyfriend to let out a small cry. It’s a noise that Ken has never heard from him before.

He writhes on his seat atop the toilet lid, boot clad feet scrabbling for purchase on the tile, but even now, the mechanic doesn’t use his hold on Ken’s shoulder to shove him away. Driver’s insides clench down hard around his exploratory fingers like a vice. He can easily feel his boyfriend’s pulse like this. It’s steady, reliable like the man himself. Experimentally, he flexes his fingers inside of him, wringing a hitched breath from the other man’s lungs.

“Driver,” he murmurs, awed. He’s never been inside of the other man in any capacity, much less like this.

The kneeling man thrusts his fingers shallowly in and out of the wound. Wet, sucking noises join their own ragged breathing. Ken crooks his fingers, causing Driver’s back to arc. He impales himself further, pressing so closely to him that there’s nowhere else to go. Ken’s metacarpals are digging into the flesh around the injury, he’s fully bottomed out. The edges of the wound are straining, gaping wide, to take him impossibly deeper.

Driver’s left hand tangles into Ken’s hair and grips into it tight enough to hurt. A whimper of his own slips out of his throat to join the noises he’s coaxing out of his boyfriend. Driver doesn’t often touch him this roughly, unless…

“Do you like this? Does it feel good?” he asks, savoring the way Driver is digging his fingers into his scalp and shoulder. He’s holding him he might tear him apart with his bare hands, bury himself in Ken’s insides just as he’s doing to him.

As an answer, Driver firmly guides his head down. His face smears across the blood-soaked denim to press against the erection straining at the material. Automatically, Ken mouths at the wet cloth. The metallic tang of blood coats his tongue and he jerks a little in Driver’s hold, surprised at the taste. He’d almost thought it would be sweet like the pie filling that it had initially reminded him of. It does nothing to deter him, it’s just one of the many flavors he can now associate with the other man.

Driver’s cock twitches against his lips. He reaches up with his left hand to undo the wheelman’s jeans so he can properly get his mouth on him. Just as his fingers make contact with the button, Driver gives him a little shake.

“Leave it.” His voice is rough, ragged around the edges. Ken gasps at the way the tissue clenches around his fingers when the other man speaks.

Despite the almost desperate need to take Driver into his mouth, to swallow him down, he obeys him and settles for putting his hand on the mechanic’s thigh. He starts nuzzling at him through the fabric, unable to resist. His eyes slip closed and he’s working his lips over the other man’s cock as best as he can despite the barrier. His face is becoming covered with Driver’s blood, looking as though he’s been feasting on the carcass of some larger animal, diving deep between the ribs and consuming until he is swollen with the bounty.

His boyfriend shifts to curl over him, supporting himself with both hands on Ken’s shoulders, thumbs digging into his collarbones. He’s relying solely on the kneeling man to keep himself upright. It makes Ken feel important, wanted. He realizes suddenly that he’s hard in his own pants.

Letting out a muffled whimper, he rocks on his knees. There’s no friction to be found, and Driver gives him a warning squeeze when he shifts too much. Stay still, it tells him, pay attention.

Ken forces his eyes open, angles his head so he can stare at where his fingers are still sheathed inside of the wound in Driver’s stomach. His entire hand is coated, crimson running down his arm and dripping off his elbow onto the floor. He’s never seen so much red. Should there be this much? Will his boyfriend run out? He reasons that since he’s not been stopped, that it’s fine despite his faint sense of unease. He trusts Driver, trusts him to believe that he’d let him know if this was not actually okay.

He’s mostly rubbing his cheek against the other man’s erection now, gaze focused on the movements of his hand. Ken is trying to remember how Driver’s fingers feel in him when he opens him up to take him. He mimics a half-recalled gesture, and he must do something right because he feels his strong thighs clamp down against his shoulders. The satisfaction of the response is enough to keep his mind off his aching knees. The bathmat under them doesn’t offer much padding. There hadn’t even been one before Ken. Driver had been tossing a towel on the floor in place of one.

Each thrust of his fingers in Driver’s wound causes the injured man’s hips to buck. He’s grinding against Ken’s face now, like Ken himself sometimes does to the other man’s thigh when straddling it. Some nights, his boyfriend is too tired for anything more and lets Ken chase his own orgasm with Driver’s work-rough hands guiding each rock of his pelvis. He encourages Ken with low sounds then, ignoring his own arousal and gently redirecting Ken’s hands when he reaches for it. Ken always falls asleep tucked against his side, sated, afterwards.

Ken makes his own encouraging noises now. They’re pitched differently than Driver’s, not as low, but the other man must get the idea if the increased fervor of his motions is anything to go by. Ken is sure that his face is going to be rubbed raw by the damp fabric, but it’s nothing in comparison to knowing he did a good job in pleasing the person that matters most to him. His eyes wander up further for just a flash and see that Driver’s are closed, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His mouth is open and set in a snarl. He’s close.

The kneeling blond spreads his fingers just slightly, scissoring them in the wound, half hoping to sink a third finger home. The hole doesn’t give. It merely cradles the intrusion like a lover, heart full up and unwilling to take another to bed. Ken rewards the loyalty by twisting his fingers inside and beckoning. Driver pins him in place, bucks up once, twice, and then he’s spilling over inside his jeans. The fabric becomes slicker, proof of Ken’s hunger. The heat of the release presses insistently at his cheek, hot in comparison to the chilled blood. Driver’s tissue clings tightly around Ken’s fingers. If it had been his own cock instead, it would have been milked dry. With some effort, he slips free. The wound flutters slightly as if mourning the loss, edges not wanting to meet.

Ken shifts under the other man’s hold, getting his head up enough to realize that Driver is pale. The frenzied flush from earlier has faded. He’s trembling a little, muscles in his abdomen seizing from more than aftershocks.

“Hey,” he says, giving the wheelman’s leg a shake. Driver’s glazed over eyes look back at him, disconcertingly blank. ���Driver?”

The seated man slides his right hand off Ken’s shoulder and leans back with some difficulty. He clamps the hand over the wound in his side. He coughs a little and blood gushes with each expulsion of air. Ken hasn’t realized that the other man’s pant leg is soaked down to the ankle and that Ken himself is kneeling in a small puddle of blood on the tile. Part of it has been wicked up by the bathmat. The blue material is almost purple now.

“Driver?” Ken repeats, worried.

His boyfriend manages to focus on him with a little more clarity. Some of the sharpness returns to his eyes. Despite it, he looks exhausted.

“Gonna need you to patch me up now,” he says, voice sounding wet.

“Okay... okay, yeah.” Ken swallows down the worry that he’ll mess this up. His blood has rushed back to his brain and he’s almost shaky now with nerves. “What do I- What do you-”

“Wash your hands then get the sterile water. Metal can. Gonna have to flush this out.”

Eager to assist, Ken hastily gets to his feet, ignoring the pins and needles in his legs from kneeling for too long. He sets the repurposed toolbox on the floor and scrubs his hands more thoroughly than he ever has. He drops back to his knees, pressing in close between Driver’s spread legs. He locates the can, picks it up, and pops off the lid.

Driver hisses and grabs hold of Ken’s shoulder in an encore of their previous position when the jet of saline hits his wound. The injury is not bleeding as much as before. Ken’s not sure if that is good or bad.

“What next? Would a band-aid…?”

“Dry it with gauze. Use the glue when you’re done. Gotta seal it. Don’t want you to have to sew it.”

He recaps the can and pulls out a few individually wrapped packets of gauze. He moves slowly as to not dislodge Driver’s hand using him as a support. He dries him off, wiping away the fresh blood that has come to the surface. It’s hot under his touch, the only part of Driver that still feels warm. Driver always runs cold but not like this. He manages to get the glue open with one hand and squeezes a line of it on the edges of the hole. He holds the sides of the wound together, pinches the injury closed. It’s like that time Driver had coached him through gluing the handle back on Ken’s favorite mug. Spread adhesive along the break and hold it tight until the glue seals it.

He has never though of Driver as breakable until now. That worries him.

“Okay,” he says, letting his hold go. “What do I do?”

“Just like a scratch now.”

Good. Ken knows what to do with that. He’s always insisting on putting bandages on Driver’s arms and hands when he comes home with scratches from the garage. The other man accepts it with quiet bemusement each time, like he’s never had anyone care enough to bother with it.

With his tongue pinned between his teeth in concentration, he puts ointment over the glued line. He presses a gauze pad to it and secures it all with waterproof tape. He looks up at Driver and the other man passes his hand over his hair. Good job. Ken got his praise after all.

He pulls off Driver’s boots, his socks, shifts him around enough to pull off his pants. He’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about underwear. He stands up so that he can ease the shirt off over his head. Everything feels spongy in his hands, the material sodden. He throws a drying, already used towel on the floor at Driver’s feet so he doesn’t track blood through their small apartment when Ken helps him to his feet.

Ken gets one of the wash cloths off the shelf and wets it with warm water. He cautiously leans over the other man, and wipes him down as best as he can. His touch is tender, almost reverent. He has to step to the side to rinse the cloth out multiple times.

The sink basin is stained red and the entire room looks like that bathroom from the horror movie he had watched with the mechanic, about the two men that got chained in there. He knows that if it had been him and Driver in that room, neither of them would leave the other behind. No matter what.

“Come on. I want to get you in bed.” He tugs at the man, Driver barely moves. “Please, Driver. Get up. Please. I’m worried.”

At his pleading tone, the mechanic forces himself to his feet. He uses Ken for support all the way down the narrow kitchen and around the corner into the main room, their only room really. It was what Driver referred to as a “studio”. Ken likes it, likes that they’re forced to be close every second they’re home together.

He nearly trips over the laundry basket that he had abandoned earlier. All thoughts of housekeeping had fled from him the minute his boyfriend had needed him. Driver makes an amused noise when Ken almost puts them both through the wall when he stumbles.

Ken gets Driver to the side of the bed with no further mishaps. Making sure to pull down the blankets first, he helps his boyfriend into bed. He’s not worried about the smears of red on the burgundy fabric. He’s good at doing laundry. He can fix it tomorrow.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” He waits for the other man’s nod before he ducks back into the bathroom.

Hurriedly, not wanting to spend more time away than is absolutely necessary, he rinses Driver’s jacket and other clothing with cold water in the tub. He’s relieved that the other man had worn the denim today instead of the white jacket. The staining from the blood wouldn’t be nearly as reversible. The flecks of glitter liberally adorning the majority of Driver’s wardrobe have been much harder to erase than this will be. He’ll leave the items to soak overnight in the sink.

A look in the mirror reveals that he looks like the stereotypical dumb blond in a horror movie. His hair is streaked through with red where Driver’s hands had gripped into it. His face is smeared, saturated almost, with the other man’s blood. It looks as though Ken had been the one in an accident. No, he had just savored. He had partaken of what Driver had offered him. It’s almost a shame to wash himself clean, to remove the traces from his body of what had transpired between them.

He pushes aside the twinge of loss he feels and throws himself into their rundown shower to rinse himself off. Pink spirals down the drain. As he rubs his hands over his face, he thinks about the man he left laying in bed. He picks up the pace, ignoring the way his skin stings under the water and his own touch. He wants to sprawl out on the mattress beside his boyfriend.

Once he’s satisfied he’s cleaned himself as much as he can in the brief minutes he’s willing to spend on the endeavor, he shuts off the water and hastily throws the soiled bathmat and blood-soaked towel into the wet tub the minute he gets out. They will be another problem for tomorrow.

Pulling a clean towel off the rail, he pauses before leaving the bathroom. He’s suddenly remembered what Driver had said once about making hurt go away. He pulls a bottle of red pills from the toolbox that is still on the floor by the sink. Ibuprofen.

Barely toweled dry enough to not drip, he exits the room to fill a glass of water from the tap before taking both the liquid and the pills to his boyfriend. Ken watches as the other man rouses enough to take the bottle and shake out two pills. His throat bobs as he swallows them down and chases them with a mouthful of water.

A drop of moisture escapes the corner of Driver’s mouth, and Ken wants to chase it with his tongue as it carves a path along the underside of the mechanic’s jaw. He manages to control himself and takes both items from the other man to sit them on their dresser. The piece of furniture serves as a spot for their TV and also functions as the bedside table. Driver sleeps on the same side of the bed as it so that he’s closer to the door. Ken knows that the other man likes to be between him and any potential danger, even if he won’t elaborate on what that danger might be.

Ken turns off the lamp and crawls under the blankets next to the other man. He’s damp enough that the sheets cling to his bare skin. Driver immediately wraps an arm around him and coaxes him against his side. There’s a sharp exhale from the injured man when Ken rests his head on his shoulder like he does every night.

“Are you going to be okay?” he blurts out, unease creeping to the surface.

There’s a long pause, typical for Driver before he finally speaks. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Ken doesn’t normally question him like this, hasn’t felt the need to.

“’M not gonna leave you,” Driver responds, rough fingers rub at the side of Ken’s waist. He’d understood the silent question Ken was really asking.

“Was what we did wrong?”

“No.” The fingers squeeze down on his flesh, anchoring him.

“I hurt you,” he mumbles into the side of Driver’s neck.

“Not really. ‘Sides, I liked it.” He must be worried about Ken in return if he’s this chatty.

“Why?”

“Felt good.” The admittance is hushed, secretive.

“I made you feel good?”

Driver nods, slow. Warmth blossoms in Ken. His greed to consume, to make the most of what had been offered, hadn’t been too much.

They’re quiet for a long while, Ken listening to the even sound of Driver’s breathing. He feels warmer. Some of the color has returned to his face. The strained crease between his eyebrow is gone.

“Tell me ‘bout your day.” His chest rumbles under Ken’s palm, voice thick with the edge of sleep.

And so Ken does, just like Driver asks him to every night. He talks and talks about everything he can think of. He speaks until Driver goes lax underneath him and his breathing settles with the occasional rasping snore.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Intro post!

Hello! This is the Sonic sideblog of @measlyfurball13. Call me Measly!

I love robot characters. I love Sonic. I really love the robot characters in Sonic. Mostly posting about "gameverse" here (but really just the niche interpretations of these guys that live in my head specifically. I'm not familiar with IDW is what I'm saying)

My longfic, now completed: Complex Inquiries (Posted to AO3) A catastrophic malfunction sends Metal Sonic out of the reach of its creator and into the throes of the world beyond.

My other blogs: Ask the Ultimate Robot (E-123 Omega ask blog) (currently on hiatus)

My Fanfiction: (oldest-newest) Robotnik Family Reunion (AO3 Link) Ivo never knew his cousin Maria. Shadow receives a letter from him about it.

My Soul To Keep (AO3 Link) Rouge takes a hit. Shadow doesn't take it well. Omega suggests an unlikely conversation topic to calm him down.

One Ultimate Latte, Please (crack fic!) (AO3 Link) This is the story of how Shadow's starbucks order went viral.

I Can't Accept All This (AO3 Link) Sonic and Omega are trapped in some rubble together. They talk.

I Can't Take All This (AO3 Link) Corollary to the above. Metal Sonic is forced to contemplate the most extreme execution of its prime core directive.

Edge of Tomorrow (AO3 Link) Sometimes, Silver needs multiple tries to get things right.

A Father's Embrace (Further chapters on AO3) Eggman, with the help of Sage, realizes something about the way he’s been treating Metal Sonic. Currently on Hiatus.

5 Times E-123 Omega Denied That He Cared + the 1 time he admitted it (AO3 Link)

Residual Orders (AO3 Link) Omega has some old programming leftover. He didn't want anyone finding out.

Transcendence (AO3 Link) Metal Sonic empowers herself with the Chaos Emeralds.

Team Dark Week 2024 One-Shots (AO3 Link) A collection of shorter oneshots focusing on Team Dark's friendship.

go on ahead (i'll be okay) (AO3 Link) Maria will be strong for everyone if she has to be.

Etchings (AO3 Link) Sage is used to bearing the weight of ghosts.

OPERATION: SELF-DETERMINATION (posted to AO3) Omega speedruns finding the meaning of life, to both humorous and serious results. For STH Big Bang 2024- art included!

Annual Life Support Maintenance (posted to AO3) Something is horribly wrong with Omega's power source.

Points of Authority (posted to AO3) The last thing Omega expected Eggman to do was apologize.

Of Which We Make (posted to AO3) Shadow does something Omega deems unforgivable. Rouge is left to pick up the pieces and determine what really happened.

Sanguinaccio Dolce (AO3 Link) Shadow must either become the monster he was planned to be or find another way out before it's too late.

Ensom (AO3 Link) Omega isn't used to not knowing how he feels.

Diametric (AO3 Link) Omega meets Maria in the white space. SxS Gens.

CTRL+ALT+DELETE (posted to AO3) Omega gets captured by Eggman.

That Twisted Mirror (Further chapters on AO3) Team Dark confronts their shadow selves. Tag for this fic is #mirrorverse au.

My Drabbles: Underestimated Rouge goes on a solo mission.

Prescience Sage has been recovered. Metal Sonic reflects.

The Weak Link GUN plans their contingency for if their two strongest members go rogue.

Team Dark and Weighted Blankets

The Graffiti post

It Won't Scar Something about Sonic's startle reflex and Badniks.

Metal Goes In For Repairs

Future Metadow Drabble (with fanart!!) A sad immortal hedgehog and a transitioned, disguised robot walk into a bar. . .

Purpose Shadow and Sonic get philosophical for a moment.

Rouge's order for Tails Rouge needs bombs and she asks the local genius to make some.

OFFICE COFFEE DELIVERY Omega helps Rouge get out of a meeting.

I was such a good little lamb (until you came along) (AO3 link) Maria knows how this story is supposed to end.

sometimes it aches but that's okay. Shadow wonders about what could have been.

Transfemme Metal and Supportive Eggdad Drabble

Carnation A birthday fic for Amy!

Tensile Shadow models a combat scenario. Omega suspects there's more going on.

Gas Light Shadow finds a receipt for a donation to a charity. It's not his. It's not Omega's. It can't possibly be Rouge's.

Pragmatism Tails finds a bomb. Omega knows how to defuse it. Rouge knows what must be done.

Other fun links: Old intro to Complex Inquiries My (long) character read for Omega Why do I use it/its for Metal Sonic sometimes? Why do I write Shadow as a GUN agent? Team Destruction (my ideas for an Amy+Silver+Omega teamup!) The Team Dark Apartment Setup I guess I have a mirrorverse au now?

[destinysbounty]

Wrote a oneshot! Inspired by this fanart made by @spinchip! Basic premise, what if Zane's sixth sense had warned him about his impending death beforehand?

(Read here on AO3!)

We Were Overdue (But It'll Be Over Soon)

Zane had never taken much issue with his sixth sense. It may have been cryptic and disorienting at the best of times, but it frequently proved itself a valuable asset to his team nonetheless. And Zane couldn’t bring himself to truly dislike anything that helped his friends.

That being said, sometimes he couldn’t help considering it a bit…annoying. Inconvenient. Bothersome, even. 

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it started, but if Zane were to hazard a guess he’d say it all began about two months after the Final Battle and roughly one week before his father’s second death.

It’s also hard to pinpoint exactly what ‘it’ even is, but the closest approximation would be to call it a ‘feeling’. The ‘feeling’, for lack of better term, was a deep, profound, almost cosmic sense of sheer dread that clung to his edges like a shadow. No, not even a shadow. It was more of a black pit with no end, yawning and stretching far into a dark, foreboding expanse. Foreboding for what, he didn’t know, and was anxious to find out. But just the presence of it alone was enough to saturate his circuits and catch on the clicks of his gears, like a snag in a sweater.

He initially wrote it off as a natural byproduct of his father’s impending departure. He’d already witnessed Dr. Julien succumb to old age once before, and it seemed reasonable that he’d be apprehensive about watching it happen again. And for a short while, this explanation mollified him somewhat. 

But then his father passed away.

And then they held a funeral.

And then Dareth subbed for his classes while Zane took five days of bereavement leave. 

(Wu had offered him upwards of six weeks, of course, citing the fact that Dr. Julien had been his sole companion for over 40 years and losing him was bound to be a particularly mournful experience, but Zane had politely declined. He’d already grieved for his father the first time, after discovering his memory switch, and while these past few months had been a wonderful vacation from the status quo, that’s all it was - a vacation. Now Dr. Julien was back to being dead again, and everything had returned to how it was meant to be. He’d always known it wouldn’t last, and he sought comfort in the fact that it'd lasted as long as it did. Not to mention he now had a loud, vibrant, loving family to fall back on should his grief overpower him. With this in mind, he felt confident that five days was all he needed.)

Surely after all that, the sense of dread would fade at least a little, right? If the feeling spawned out of fear of losing his loved one, then it made sense that the feeling would go away once the inevitable finally occurred. Like a release of tension, in a sense. 

Yet somehow, the dread didn’t go away. In some ways it actually got worse.

Once more Zane sought a rational explanation. Surely this was just an unexpected but not unwelcome part of the grieving process. He was only a nindroid, after all - far be it from him to claim any expertise regarding how emotions are supposed to work. But over time, as more troubling symptoms began to emerge, even that explanation lost its edge.

First was the occasional hot flashes - quick bursts of heat igniting in the false flesh of his palms, spiraling up through his wires and all the way to his heart. The flashes occurred sparingly, but just often enough (and just painfully enough) for him to seek diagnosis from Jay and Nya. But to their mutual confusion, none of them could find anything wrong with him.

“Well, you weren’t exactly built yesterday,” Nya said after yet another hour-long diagnostic procedure. She set her goggles down with a sigh, tenderly rubbing the red marks left behind under her eyes. “Your hardware is decades old at this point, and I highly doubt you kept up with maintenance while you had amnesia. You were bound to run into some issues sooner or later.”

Jay struck a conniving grin in response to Zane’s confused expression. “Basically, what she’s saying is that you’re dealing with old people problems, and we’re gonna have to fix you up with the robot equivalent of prune juice. Who knows, maybe we’ll even find a nice nindroid nursing home for you.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Jay." She gave her boyfriend a playful shove. "You gotta respect your elders, y’know.” And with that they both dissolved into fits of laughter, rendering Zane even more confused than he already was.

So while the rest of his family delighted in teasing him with a plethora of ‘old man’ remarks and other such jokes about his age, Nya and Jay set to work upgrading portions of his hardware - careful to avoid the more intricate aspects of Dr. Julien’s original design while still changing enough of it to boost Zane’s mechanical efficiency. 

Of course, while this dramatically enhanced his processing power and overall performance speed, it didn’t fix the mysterious spark-flashes.

The dread and the flashes weren’t his only symptoms either. He’d started growing anxious around spiderwebs - not spiders, just their webs, and anything that resembled their webs for that matter. And he would often dream of strange, incoherent nonsense that he never remembered in the morning, yet for some reason always left him scrambling up to a mirror to make sure his faceplate hadn’t loosened in his sleep. 

The two most concerning symptoms, however, were probably the following:

First, Zane’s quickly developing fear of gold. Every time he saw something that looked like bright, shimmering gold, the sensors in his face would sputter, and that burning sensation would light up in his palms again, and he would begin to hyperventilate, and his power core would throb in ways Pixal later explained were the nindroid equivalent of a panic attack. And worst of all, the dread would triple its pressure against his steel joints, asphyxiating his circuits into a caustic seizure. 

(According to his father, Zane’s breathing mechanism not only served to make his replication of humanity more authentic, but also as a form of manual air circulation. Moments of high stress and intense emotion could lead to his system overheating, so he was programmed to breathe more when under duress to prevent this from happening. He used to think it was a bit silly, pointless even, but after experiencing the intense heat caused by both the spark-flashes and the phantom melting sensation that accompanied the sight of gold, now he was just glad for any relief he could get.)

The second especially troubling symptom was also the only one he never dared share with others: his developing fear of Lloyd .

This one didn’t have a rational explanation, no matter how many hours he devoted to parsing out for one. For reasons unknown, the mere thought of Lloyd would cause the dread to slice into him with an unmatched intensity, like wire cutters slicing away the thermoplastic insulation from the nerves in his hands. The flashes and the heat and the gold would overwhelm him all at once, overloading his neural drive with so much false input that he had to run off into another room whenever Lloyd came to visit.

Zane quickly got better at finding excuses to leave, and later he learned how to bury his fear altogether, so as to spare Lloyd the pain of this unfair phobia. Lying was immoral and Zane would never forgive himself doing so, but as much as it pained him to admit it, deceiving his friends on this matter had certainly come in handy. Lloyd didn’t deserve to think Zane was afraid of him, or that Zane didn’t trust him. He’d saved the world! He’d sacrificed his own childhood just to protect Zane and the rest of their family! And more than that, he was their little brother. Chosen one status and golden destiny notwithstanding, he had earned Zane’s affection simply by being family.

It was probably just a glitch. Like Nya said, his hardware was old, and it had been placed under a lot of strain since becoming a ninja. He just needed to let his OS sort itself out, and soon everything would go back to normal.

Right?

After a particularly intensive system update yielded no improvements, Zane was forced to reconcile the one truth he’d feared most: that all of these symptoms weren’t due to an issue with his hardware but were somehow foretelling a tragedy yet to come.

Sharing this realization with the rest of the team had set everyone one edge for a while and rightly so, as Zane’s premonitions were never wrong - but after three weeks passed with no signs of his dread becoming reality, the others steadily abandoned their apprehension and moved on. And Zane would have moved on too, but the dread addled to his side like chewing gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

When the Digital Overlord revealed himself, Zane was equal parts horrified and relieved. Horrified for obvious reasons - the Overlord was back, he was now targeting Lloyd specifically, he had Wu in his custody, and he was using modified versions of Zane’s own blueprint against him. But he was also relieved because finally, after nearly a year of watching and waiting with baited breath, his premonitions had at long last received their payoff. His dread was because the Overlord was still alive, his fear of gold was because of the Overlord’s plans to make himself corporeal using golden power, and his fear of Lloyd was due to the curse of the golden master and the fact that Lloyd used to be the golden master. All his premonitions finally, finally, had a rational explanation. 

And yet, still the dread didn’t fade. The symptoms remained as loud and obnoxious as they’d always been. Fragments of visceral, forgotten dreams still clouded his CPU and cluttered his storage drive. Spark-flashes still singed his servomotors and grinded at his actuators, threatening to melt the fake skin off his hands and burn the metal framework underneath. The dread still infected his receivers and emitters, tangling itself into a mess of inputs and outputs, and coloring all his sensory data with a sepia filter of foreboding. 

He knew what this meant, of course. It meant that no matter what the Overlord was doing now, no matter what he’d already done to the likes of Pixal and Lloyd and Mr. Borg and Wu, it was bound to get worse. Much, much worse.

Sometimes, he really did find his sixth sense to be quite troublesome. 

But for all the pain and misery it had caused him for the better part of a year, he couldn’t bring himself to dislike any of it. Because of the nervous edge he'd been dangling over all this time, he knew to be ready. He knew to never fully let his guard down. And if even the tiniest millisecond of anticipation gave them a much-needed advantage, then he would rather spend all his time an anxious, dread-ridden wreck than ruin his friends’ chances of survival.

It was that same split-second advantage, that unease manifesting as preparedness, that allowed him to back away from the Overlord’s grasp just in time, while all his friends became ensnared in the new golden master's tentacle grip one by one. 

Standing there on the edge of that roof, watching his friends struggle and gasp as the Overlord squeezed the life out of them, the dread returned anew. And it sang into his heart in ways it had never done before. No more was he haunted by disjointed visions and nebulous premonitions. All of it had fled his systems at once, circuitry now almost painfully bereft of the foreboding that had tormented him for so long. And in its place came a new feeling. 

No, ‘feeling’ wasn’t the right word. It was…it was as if someone had taken his spirit, his soul, his conscious mind, and harshly yanked it out from its hiding place nestled between his gears, and laid it bare for all to see. 

He didn’t know he had a soul to begin with. And yet here it was, twinkling bright from its perch inside his power core. Singing to him.

This is it, it said.  This is what you’ve been waiting for. 

“The armor!” Cole cried out, wheezing as the Overlord’s glowing tendril tightened around his chest. “Why isn’t it working?!”

The Overlord’s warped voice came through in a sickening perversion that scraped against Zane’s ears. “Because your time is over!” 

Around him, golden webs weaved the city streets into a tapestry of chaos. Down below, Serpentine helped guide their fellow civilians down into the sewers. Just in front of him, his friends struggled in vain to resist the sheer power of the Overlord.

And inside him, a knowing chorus sang.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

That much was true. For better or worse, this was exactly what he’d been anxiously awaiting all this time. This moment right here was what his sixth sense had spent the last year preparing him for. 

The golden net on which the Overlord stood resembled the spiderwebs Zane had grown to fear. The glowing energy that rent the air asunder and suffocated his teammates - his family - was the reason gold had begun to scare him so much (the reason Lloyd had begun to scare him so much).

The only symptom yet to explain itself were the spark-flashes. Originating from his palms and spreading out into the rest of him and dissecting his artificial skin with a fierce destruction, converging on his heart and threatening to choke everything that made him whole in a thick layer of gold.

Coming from his…hands…

Thanks to the Golden Armor, the Overlord was nigh unstoppable. The only thing capable of defeating him was something or someone just as powerful. And it’d be a gamble, with low odds of success, but if he could jump the distance… 

No, that was - that was ridiculous. It would destroy him! His heart couldn’t even handle powering a measly spacecraft, what hope did he have of withstanding all that Golden Power long enough to actually wield it ?

A memory came to him, unbidden.

“That’s why it’s called hope, Zane.”

Zane took a deep breath. At times like this, he appreciated that his father had built him with the ability to do so.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

You know what to do.

“Support me, friends,” he said. “For one last time.” And, armed with nothing but love for his family, he jumped.

The pain from his premonitions had always originated at his palms. Now he knew why. 

[mythicamagic]

Funeral Flowers: a Sesskag Oneshot

Summary:  Sesshoumaru knows what Kagome's favourite flower is- because it just so happens Forget-Me-Nots have been filling his throat for months. Hanahaki Disease fic. Sesskag oneshot.

AN: for @drosselmeyerwrites​, who is also a lover of the 'suffering Sesshoumaru' trope. She's been a lovely commenter and wholesome person in the fandom ^^

Warning: body horror elements. This is a Hanahaki Disease fic with a twist on the concept.

Words: 10,000

Rated M

@cookieasylum​ drew an amazing fanart for this fic so please check this fic out on Ao3!

Funeral Flowers

It started as a mere flutter. Sesshoumaru could feel it at the back of his throat: the beginnings of something that tickled and irritated his windpipe- not enough to cause anything serious, but just noticeable. This sensation only worsened with time.

Kagome looked at him like he'd grown a second head after hearing him stifle a certain noise clumsily behind his fingers.

"Huh," she mused, peering closely at him. "I don't think I've ever heard you cough before."

After a few weeks, he'd begun coughing. A little blemish that he could easily hide behind his hand. Sesshoumaru had wanted no one to notice such a shameful thing. An unwilling action, but required in order to clear his airways.

"Hn," peeling long fingers away from his down-turned mouth, he looked away. Kagome shifted bare legs in the glittering water, lounging on some rocks by a river while half-heartedly sunbathing in a tank top and shorts. Golden eyes slid back to the slim, pale stretch of her smooth, toned leg as she swayed it.

"Kind of a human action, isn't it? Do demons even get colds?" her concern only seemed to increase. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No," he huffed, adjusting himself beside her. They kept a respectable distance. 'Friends' was what she called them. Sesshoumaru tried and failed to tear his gaze away from the parting of her thighs as she stretched languidly. "I do not get sick," he added, "such a thing is beneath me."

Kagome slid both arms behind her head to act as a cushion, laying down. "A few years ago you'd have said sitting beside a priestess ankle-deep in a river would be 'beneath' you. Things change."

Sesshoumaru tilted his chin up to regard her haughtily and gave a dignified snort, adjusting his rolled-up hakama pants. "It is beneath me."

Kagome rose a brow, fluttering one hand carelessly in a shooing motion, "go on then. Leave if it's so offensive," she sighed, trying and failing to hide her smile.

No.

His body flared alive at the thought, unsettled. Sesshoumaru bit back another prickling cough, settling for clearing his throat. "You should be the one to leave. This one was here first."

"Wha- no! I got to the river before you!"

"I was referring to age. Bratty mikos should listen to their elders."

Kagome burst out laughing, sitting up to lightly bat his shoulder. "That makes you sound ancient! You're such a dork. No one else knows how much of an absolute dork you are, do they? It's a crying shame."

Sesshoumaru did not know what a 'dork' was, but he assumed it to be something unflattering. He should've been annoyed by it, aggravated. Kagome's playful, happy scent made this notion impossible.

Thin lips twitched at the edges, dragging his heels through the cool current. He couldn't honestly put into words why exactly he'd shown up, following her scent. Logically, he knew he should leave her alone.

They fell into an amicable silence again, one that had been born from months of time spent together. Odd snatches of coincidental meetings had flourished into something more, and they'd begun seeking one another out for company whenever he visited the village. Sometimes she even paid him a visit the Western Stronghold. Any demons who complained about it were silenced by how… determined the miko was to make friends. A force of nature. It had amused him to no end watching ancients tripping over themselves to try to avoid her bad books.

He could also deeply understand those who had taken an immense liking to her.

Kagome was warm and teasing, a rare thing not wholly unwelcome. Her stories of the future were interesting, personality vibrant but down to earth and occasionally sassy. He enjoyed her more than he should, a quiet, snarky male by nature basking in her effortless glow.

"What's your favourite flower?"

He blinked, "this is a question belonging to Rin. I do not expect such fanciful notions from you."

Kagome huffed and flicked her hand to splash some water over his knee. "I can talk about flowers if I want to. Shinto asked me what mine were, so I got to thinking. I'd like to know what yours are too- or do pretty dog demons baring flower crests not have an opinion on them?"

He sniffed, bringing down one leg to create a splash that soaked her side. Kagome let out a yelp. "The Shiragiku flower. "

"Oh you can't be serious!" She giggled. "When I asked what your favourite colour was, you said 'white' of all things. White! That's the absence of colour!"

"This one is aware. You kept rabbiting on about it," he wiped some imaginary lint off one shoulder.

"But still! And now you tell me you like flowers that are infamously used for funerals," blue eyes rolled skyward, glittering with mirth. "Why am I not surprised, Mr Killing Perfection?"

Thin lips lifted into a sneer free of malice. "Very well, Shikon miko. What is your favoured flower?"

Kagome hummed. "Forget-Me-Nots."

Letting out a noise between a huff and a chuckle, he shot her an exasperated look. "And you give me grief over mine. Did you not say that blue was your favoured colour?"

"Hey, Forget-me-Nots can be pink, white or blue! I'm not as predictable in my tastes as some people."

That was most definitely true, he thought flatly. She had moved on from her first love, a Hanyou- only to bond with a Daiyoukai, and then…

And then…

Kagome stood, stretching both arms above her head. Sesshoumaru knew what she'd say before she even said it, wincing and bringing a hand absentmindedly to the base of his throat. It throbbed. Now the ache even seemed to seep lower.

What is this pain in my chest? He wondered. What is this strange sensation?

"I should go."

Sesshoumaru slid tired attention up to her and nodded silently. He would not wish her well.

"Shinto will wonder where I am," she needlessly elaborated.

"Indeed."

Kagome glanced at him and dropped her arms. "What's wrong?"

He thought to tell her, not for the first time. But it was silenced by everything else that had come before. Their history. Their species. Her lack of discernible interest, her new flame. A heavy weight pressed down upon his chest. His shoulder ached.

"Nothing. I am fine."

Dark brows pulled together. Sesshoumaru stood and nudged her away with a single palm on her back that lingered too long. "Go. I am… merely hungry."

"Oh!" a look of relief swept over her face. Kagome laughed, "okay, I'll leave you in peace. Happy hunting!"

Sesshoumaru felt his chest ache and constrict while his expression remained a blank mask. He covertly winced after she'd jogged away to a trail within the forest that would take her back to Kaede's village. She stopped to wave, and he quickly wiped his expression clean again, rendering it neutral.

Kagome smiled gently, her face full of friendly affection. Sesshoumaru regally inclined his head, eyes burning.

Do not go.

She left him alone, hurrying away to see her new flame in complete ignorance.

Sesshoumaru coughed and massaged the base of his throat as soon as she was gone, frowning.

Feeling something stuck to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he curiously parted his lips and reached behind a sharp tooth to pluck the soft, small thing out.

Damp from saliva, a tiny, pretty blue petal caught his attention, clutched between forefinger and thumb. Sesshoumaru stared. A sense of creeping foreboding slipped into the back of his mind at the discovery.

This did not bode well.

---

His affliction made visits to the village difficult. It was easier in the beginning when he could hide a few coughs and tickles of the throat. Steadily, however, the discomfort increased. Sesshoumaru needed to pick out petals from his mouth every day, and the number of them only grew with frequency. He had to remove the irritating little things every hour now.

"Lord Sesshoumaru has been picking at his teeth a lot lately," he heard Rin whisper to Jaken, pausing mid-brush. She had been tasked with caring for the old miko's horse. "Is it a toothache?"

"Shh! Don't comment on such a thing so loudly, girl! If Lord Sesshoumaru wants to do some teeth maintenance, then he may do so!" Jaken squawked, frowning up at her.

Sesshoumaru cut golden eyes to the sky and turned away.

"Ah, I didn't mean to insult you, Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"You're STILL drawing attention to it!" Jaken griped.

Pointed ears twitched, blocking out their animated voices and tuning into a set of quick footsteps. Sesshoumaru inhaled, wincing as his lungs protested- the scent of citrus, summer and home comforts reaching him long before Kagome appeared from around the side of a hut. She beamed. His heart ached.

"Hey," she called, trotting over.

"Hello, Kagome!" the little girl waved enthusiastically, wobbling.

Steadying Rin atop her wooden perch as she continued brushing the tall horse, Kagome flashed him a knowing look. "You look tense. Is it from being near the stables?" she teased.

Rin gasped, "does Lord Sesshoumaru not like horses?"

"It's their smell, you nitwit!"

Kagome frowned at Jaken, before searching Sesshoumaru's face for answers. Obviously his silence and demeanour was starting to worry her. Taking a breath, he tried to ignore the petals stuck in the gaps of his teeth. He could feel more building, pooling in the back of his throat like thick mucus.

"They are skittish and afraid of this one. It is better to keep distance."

Predictably, Kagome gentled- but surprised him by easing closer. She seized his hand, tugging- and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Heat touched his cheeks.

Kagome walked backwards, maintaining eye contact like the femme fatale she wasn't, shifting her soft touch to grasp the back of his hand, lacing lithe fingers through his. She then forced the Daiyoukai's palm to rest against a warm neck. The horse shifted slightly, tail flicking, yet it did not startle. With Kagome's prompting, Sesshoumaru glided the flat of his calloused palm down the length of its powerful neck, the thin layer of brown fur tickling his skin.

"Maji isn't like other horses, he's calm around demons. He has to be if Kaede is gonna ride him to fight Youkai," her voice glided through his ear canals like melted honey. Kagome hummed, "though she said because of her age that he might be mine soon. Weird, huh? It's like she's prepping me to be the village miko more and more."

"It is not 'weird,' it is expected," he uttered, thrilled at the prolonged touch. How foolish. The heat of her palm felt exquisite, hand clasped intimately around his. "You will make an acceptable village miko."

Blue eyes flitted up to him, smiling. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, but… sometimes I wonder if-"

"Ah, so this is where you escaped to."

Sesshoumaru stiffened. Kagome ripped her fingers away- tearing open a gaping hole inside him. He quickly stifled a cough, but it was larger this time, throat clogged. His shoulders shook, sweat dotting his brow.

Kagome was busy being scooped up by Shinto, a large male. He dressed well, for a human, a jagged scar running over one eye. A momento from his mercenary days, he'd called it, though he was now reformed.

Kagome laughed and swatted his shoulder, demanding to be put down. Jaken piped up, yelling about indecency. All the while, Sesshoumaru fought not to let anything show. To not let the agony out. The jealousy. The consuming desire to act upon instinct and take what he ached for.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand seeing the male's burly, meaty hands drag over her hips to settle at the base of her spine. Like they belonged there. Sesshoumaru coughed again, drawing away.

Kagome caught the action, turning to him. "Sesshoumaru?"

He hated the concern swimming in her gaze. It would be so much easier to despise her.

"I have lingered too long," he said quietly, trying to mask the rawness of his voice. "This one should be going."

Kagome nodded slowly, "do you want some honey to soothe your throat? It sounds a little-"

"No," he quietly snapped, starting to walk away. Confusion immediately curdled in her scent, and he regretted the lapse in control. Now she'd worry.

Foolishness.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" Jaken hurriedly ran after him, following his Lord from the village. "Bah, those humans get more presumptuous every day. I don't blame you for leaving in such a hurry," he muttered, keeping up his tangent long after they'd met the treeline of Inuyasha's forest.

Sesshoumaru unexpectedly stopped, slamming claws into tree bark and causing it to splinter.

Jaken yelped, jumping and dropping his staff. "Mi-mi Lord?" bulbous eyes widened upon seeing him stoop over slightly, silver hair obscuring ashen features.

Sesshoumaru's shoulders shook, dry heaving sounds reaching Jaken's hearing. The retainer gasped, watching him cough, gasp and choke. Thick trails of dewy saliva pooled onto the ground. Rasping noises shuddered out from clenched teeth. Trembling claws reached inside his mouth, feeling something at the back of his throat. Grasping it, Sesshoumaru fought not to gag, coughing while removing the thing and looking at it with stinging eyes.

A Forget-me-not flower sat innocently between forefinger and thumb.

Both demons stared. Phlegm soaked petals rested at Sesshoumaru's feet. Jaken stood gravely silent for a while.

"Mi Lord…" he said thinly. "You have fallen prey to something very old…"

"You will not breathe a word about it to anyone," Sesshoumaru coughed, eyes stinging. He straightened and wiped his mouth, collecting himself. He threw the flower aside.

"But-"

"No one, Jaken," Sesshoumaru hissed, molten golden eyes burning. "Or I'll kill you."

Jaken yelped and quickly bowed several times, promising wholeheartedly not to interfere.

"I-I understand! However, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could hear out a suggestion?"

Sesshoumaru sneered and started walking again, his breathing slightly hoarse and rasping now, no longer quiet. His lips pressed together, trying to silence himself. It proved painful, and he quickly breathed through his mouth again.

Jaken tentatively continued; "your affliction is something ancient. I know little about it, but I do remember that it's possible to have it removed before it claims your life."

Sesshoumaru stopped, hands curling into fists. Claws scraped palms.

"That will not do, either," came his soft response.

"W-why ever not, milord?! This matter is potentially deadly to demons!"

Sesshoumaru stared ahead unseeingly. He knew of the affliction too. Had recognised what it was immediately. If he removed the flowering bud from within his chest, wiped away all evidence from her from his body, then he'd lose the very thing that had made him catch the illness in the first place.

His feelings for Kagome Higurashi.

"My reasons are my own," Sesshoumaru coughed behind his hand. "I will not die. Do not fuss over trivial matters, Jaken."

His retainer gaped, hurrying after him. Fierce worry painted his features. The infamous and deadly Hanahaki Curse could fell even the strongest of Daiyoukai.

---

It interfered with eating.

Sesshoumaru thankfully did not need to eat too often, but hunger inevitably gnawed its way into his gut. Transformed, he raced through the forest on all fours in a smaller version of his true form. Low-hanging branches lashed at his face. Forget-me-not flowers lodged in his throat conglomerated into a thick mass. They were practically a ball stuck at the back of his mouth. Sesshoumaru managed to ignore it just enough to track the scent of a deer- only to lose it and find a green pheasant within range.

Barely a snack, but it would do.

With a gurgling snarl, Sesshoumaru sprang at some bushes. Squawking with distress, the bird took flight- only to be caught in his jaws. Bringing sharp teeth down elicited a satisfying crunch. The taste of iron filled his parched mouth. Tilting his head back, Sesshoumaru had every intention of swallowing it whole. He'd done so before. The bird was small enough compared to his form. However, this quickly became impossible.

Red eyes widened. The flowers acted as a barrier, preventing food from travelling down his throat.

Spitting out the bird, Sesshoumaru tore into it. He tried again and again, breaking the kill into smaller pieces. He even tried drinking from the river to wash down the flowers. Nothing worked. No food could pass into his stomach.

With a low crooning noise that hissed out between his teeth, Sesshoumaru padded away from his uneaten kill with an agitated flick of his tail.

---

It affected his sleep next.

At his Stronghold in the Western lands, Sesshoumaru set aside his paperwork and retired to bed. Curling into a nest of furs, he stretched out long legs, sprawling on one side.

Only to feel a dull ache thrum from his ribs.

Wincing and setting a hand over the spot, Sesshoumaru frowned. He was unfamiliar with the sensation, however, Kagome had once whined and complained about 'pulling a muscle.' Perhaps the tight, clamping sensation echoed that pain. Deciding to roll over onto his opposite side- he abruptly burst into a coughing fit. The angle had upset his breathing, lungs protesting.

This vicious cycle continued long into the night. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Even laying still made him feel tense and pained. In the end, Sesshoumaru rose from his futon and began running.

Too tired to think, he transformed, relying on instinct to guide him. He whined softly; the ache spreading. He wheezed a little, breathing constrained despite being physically fit.

The inuyoukai sprinted to the outskirts of Kaede's village. Scenting the air, he caught a welcome fragrance on the breeze.

Mate.

Clearing the hillside with a single bound, Sesshoumaru shrank his form even further to that of a regular dog. Sniffing around the outside of a hut, fluffy ears perked. She was not home.

Where?

Following the invisible trail in the air, he padded around the village, passing by unseen by some villagers. Their lack of vigilance disgusted him. What lax security. Stopping at the Monk and Slayer's hut, he listened, hearing a soft humming from within. The sharp tang of blood, vomit, faeces and afterbirth caught his frayed attention.

The Slayer had been pregnant. From the sounds and smells of things, she had given birth and now slept while Kagome remained awake. He could pick up the faint fussing from a young babe.

Sesshoumaru stayed still, listening to the miko gently hum. Slowly, his body weakened, and the inuyoukai lay down outside the hut, resting a weary head atop large paws.

Something stirred from within, the rustle of covers. "Mn... are you alright? Want me to take over?"

"No, I'm fine," Kagome answered in a hushed tone. "He seems completely zonked out, little cutie-pie."

The Slayer paused, "your head. You said it was aching again earlier."

"Heh, Sango! You've just had another baby! Focus on yourself!" her lovely voice tinged with exasperation. "Really, everything is okay. It just hurts from time to time ever since that night with the boar youkai attack. It's no big deal."

"Prolonged headaches and amnesia does not fall under 'no big deal,' Kagome."

Laughing this off breezily, he could hear the shrug in her tone. "I just blank on a few things from the month prior to the attack. I'm sure it wasn't anything important."

Tired lids slid shut, and Sesshoumaru gained some sense of rest while imagining the woman within cradling a newborn pup instead of a gurgling infant. The two women talked some more, lulling him into a false sense of comfort even as his throat thrummed with continuous pain.

---

Breathing was a struggle.

Every inhale became a wheezing, quivering thing. Like crumpled paper that had been smoothed out and squashed too many times. Mucus constantly filled his mouth, senses clogged. His breathing ranged from laboured to a noisy, rasping thing.

He could no longer afford to visit the village. Sesshoumaru took to monitoring Rin from afar whenever he felt the need to check up on her. Needless to say, he avoided Kagome at all costs. The miko was an infamous busy body who would become a nightmare to deal with if she knew of his suffering.

Yes, that was the only reason.

However, on a random day he briefly let his guard down, the unthinkable happened.

Inuyasha found out.

If Sesshoumaru had comprised a list of all the beings he did NOT want to know about his affliction, Inuyasha would be right up there, along with his meddling mother.

Inuyasha stared, watching him with a complicated, horrified look on his gruff features. Shifting, Sesshoumaru stood from where he'd been knelt by a river.

Forget-me-nots floated downstream.

"... What the hell is wrong with you?" were the first words Inuyasha blurted out.

Sesshoumaru wiped his mouth, sneering. "I need not explain myself to you, whelp."

"Keh, if anything warrants a damn explanation, it's barfing up flowers."

He didn't need to hear anymore, turning with the intent to leave. No doubt the fool would talk nonsense, and he had no patience for such things with his current headache. His temples were pounding, throat parched.

"Why don't you just fucking tell her, you coward?"

That certainly caught his attention. Sesshoumaru halted. "What?" he croaked.

"Ya think I'm that ignorant, huh?" Inuyasha rolled his eyes, shoving both hands inside his sleeves. "I know."

"Know what, exactly," silken tones rasped. "You are but an ignorant pup. You were not raised within youkai circles, and so could not possibly understand."

"And whose fault is that?" shaking his head, Inuyasha huffed. "I dunno what crap you're yappin' on about, anyway. I'm talkin' about your secret relationship with Kagome that you had a couple of months ago."

Stiffening, Sesshoumaru felt his bones lock and throat inflame. He swallowed, wincing slightly. He flashed his teeth, "whatever you think you know, it is incorrect. A baseless assumption."

"Bullshit!"

Continuing to walk with every intention of escaping the pending conversation, he stopped dead the second Inuyasha opened his mouth; "I could smell you on her! But that all changed the second she hit her head. Did she forget you or something? You were happy to just abandon her after she stopped being useful for a good time?"

A deafening snarl upset his aching throat, ripping something inside. Blurring through the air impossibly fast, Sesshoumaru snatched up his sibling's throat and slammed him into a tree, causing the trunk to shudder.

"Silence," a blood-curdling rasp hissed out from clenched teeth like boiling steam. Crimson eyes glowed, claws itching to bury into the nuisance's windpipe.

Even while choking, Inuyasha managed to bark out a laugh, grasping a striped wrist. "You really do like her, huh? Never thought I'd see the day, bastard." White ears pulled back flat against his skull. "What's the deal? Just open your mouth and tell Kagome. Then I don't have to smell your pining ass all over the forest while you stalk her."

Burning embers were snuffed out. Sesshoumaru coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. His shoulder thrummed, aching. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"She does not remember," releasing him, the Daiyoukai stepped back. "The miko fell quite quickly for the male who rescued her that night. The fault lies with me that she sustained injury. If she is content with another, I cannot force her gaze to me."

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. However, Kagome seemed happy with their relationship as friends. Guilt, stung pride and other such ugly emotions were all tied up with the incident.

Inuyasha blinked with disbelief, sizing him up. "When the fuck did you get so noble?" Sesshoumaru sneered, glancing away as his brother continued. "And anyway, what does that have to do with you coughing up flowers?"

Since he'd revealed more than intended as it was, Sesshoumaru felt no inclination to divulge extra information. He turned and this time; resolved not to stop walking. "Drop the subject, whelp."

"Maybe I'll tell Kagome about it."

Sesshoumaru did not falter, knowing the fool's game by now. "Do as you please," he dismissed in a wheezing, thin voice, stepping under the cool shade of weeping willow trees and leaving him behind.

---

He did not intend to revisit their old rendezvous point. Sesshoumaru had wanted to put it behind him, to let everything that had happened within the cave fade into obscurity.

The second he stepped foot within the mossy mouth of its opening, however, Kagome's lingering scent fanned over a striped cheek like a breathy exhale.

Long white lashes slid half shut. Hooded golden eyes became hazed. The memory of her salty, sweet taste wrapping around his tongue flooded his senses. Claws twitched, recalling the phantom sensation of full breasts falling into his palms as her back arched exquisitely. Her eyes had darkened into a lush, deep blue.

She'd been memorable, to say the least.

Walking further in, so that he stood fully submerged in their love-nest, Sesshoumaru basked in the illicit scents and breathy whispers he could remember caressing his hearing. It hadn't just been about sex. It never was with her.

Kagome had held his demonic hand without fear and stroked his cheek, murmuring ardently or giggling quietly. She told him things he hadn't thought he'd wanted to know before.

'You're nothing like your father' she'd said easily but with a conviction that made the ageless demon believe her. The notion should've been insulting. His sire had been unbeatable in strength, so of course he should wish to be like him.

Yet Sesshoumaru had never appreciated such compliments. He wished to be unique, bold, powerful, walking an entirely different path. Her words had been strangely welcome.

"And yet here I stand, Father," Sesshoumaru uttered to himself. In love with a mortal. Dying, because of a human woman of all things.

Just like you.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes snapped wide open. A wave of elation, dread, guilt and longing washed over him. Every fibre of his being flared to life, muscles stiffening, heart racing. His lungs constricted.

Sesshoumaru swallowed a rasping breath, shifting to face the priestess.

Kagome crept closer, glancing around the cave curiously. "Was just in the forest to collect some things. I thought I sensed you close by. Looks like I was right. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," he said softly. His voice sounded fragile these days.

He could tell she was confused, radiating hurt. He hadn't visited in so long. No doubt she'd wondered why. The flowers buried within his windpipe felt heavier in her presence. He cleared his throat.

"Oh," Kagome scuffed a sandal over the dirt-covered floor. "Well... I'm glad I caught you-" she offered a tentative smile. "I've missed talking with you."

Sesshoumaru's insides screamed at him. The marks on his shoulder felt like blistering iron tongues being thrust into his flesh they wailed so loud.

Mate.

"I dunno what's kept you away," Kagome continued talking, making her way out of the cave. He followed, "but you haven't missed much. Rin is progressing nicely with her riding though. I'm not too shabby with that thin sword you gave me either, though Shinto says I need more practice."

That very sent icy needles piercing his skin. Stepping foot outside, Sesshoumaru couldn't stop the abrupt bite in his tone; "why are you here, miko?"

Kagome blinked and glanced at him over one shoulder. She then threaded her fingers behind her back, attention sliding away, voice unreadable.

"Shinto proposed to me."

Sesshoumaru stopped. A profound sense of loss rendered him breathless. He anticipated a coughing fit. Wheezing. Pain. But there was nothing, just him and Kagome standing alone in the silent woods. But she'd be beyond his reach for good soon.

He'd tried. He'd tried hard to forget, as she had. To push all the feelings and words right down from his throat into his chest. Maybe that was how the curse had started.

But he'd have kept the curse for good if it meant lingering in the 'almost' fantasy of them.

Now that illusion would shatter.

The very idea of her belonging to another felt like a wound somewhere inside him that he couldn't locate. The sensation of teeth on his shoulder thrummed, and he coughed, snuffing out the sound behind his hand.

"I didn't really know what to say," Kagome was muttering. "A part of me feels like it's too soon. I wanted to talk to you about it-"

"This one is needed elsewhere," he said in a clipped tone, turning on his heel.

He couldn't be her confidant anymore. Not about this.

"What?"

He began walking, trying to put distance between them. He should've known it wouldn't work as Kagome quickly caught up and planted herself firmly in his way, halting the demon.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" she demanded. "Is it the cough? Are you in so much pain that you can't talk to me?"

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth in a faint sneer, throat protesting at the extended use of his vocal cords. "is it so unthinkable that for once, I may not have time for you, miko?"

"Yes," Kagome planted both hands on her hips. "Because this isn't an isolated thing. I've hardly seen you all month! And besides that, you're my friend, Sesshoumaru. Friends tell each other things. Remember how you talked about the court and how obnoxious General Kito was to deal with? Things like that. I need to talk to you about this- and clearly, you need to talk to someone about whatever's going on with you. I'm worried about you!"

His heart clenched, and Sesshoumaru bit back a hiss at the stab of pain it caused. Thin breathing rasped and rattled. He raised a hand, urging her aside via a gentle grasp on her shoulder to continue walking.

Kagome's grip was not so gentle as she latched onto his arm.

Frustration abruptly burst in his chest and Sesshoumaru snarled, whirling with the intent of spilling everything to her. Ruin their friendship. Burn everything they'd built and admit his failure to protect her-

-only to cough up a mouthful of blood onto her collarbone.

Kagome yelped in surprise, eyes wide. Touching the wet substance dazedly, horror paled her complexion. She looked up at him with palpable fear.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Humiliation stung white-hot and burning into his body. The visceral, blinding sensation of being exposed- of being seen- felt like too much. Too raw. As a demon unused to such things, his first instinct was to remove himself from the situation.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hands, putting the length of the clearing between them.

Kagome called his name again with alarm, asking him to wait, but he would not heed her call.

Taking to the skies, he flew fast and erratically, a wobbly figure. Coughing hard and feeling blood clog up his windpipe like mud, Sesshoumaru had no choice but to land not long after.

Within an overcast clearing upriver from Kagome, he steadied himself against a gnarled tree.

"Hah- hah-" he wheezed, doubling over and squeezing stinging eyes shut.

Something suddenly constricted tight around his lungs, around his very ribcage. Bones protested and ached. He gasped for breath, blood leaking from his open mouth to pool on the floor. Forget-me-nots mingled with it, petals stained red.

Jolting and snapping upright, Sesshoumaru arched his back, throwing back his head. A cry escaped him unlike any other. Loud, agonised and roaring in its ferocity tinged with pain.

Stems shot out from within his ribcage, tearing his chest asunder.

---

Her friends made noises of alarm at the sight of Kagome's bloodied clothes, but the miko ignored Sango and Miroku's questions, bypassing them in favour of finding and grabbing Jaken by the scruff of his robes.

"You're going to tell me in 10 words or less what the hell is going on with your lord," she demanded.

Jaken yelped and squinted, hanging from her hold. "Haven't the faintest idea of what you could be alluding to!" he sniffed.

Kagome snarled and bared her teeth, lifting him closer with a menacing expression and gesturing to the red substance marring her priestess robes. "This is HIS blood. He looked awful. Like- like he was dying, Jaken," her voice broke. "Please. I need to know what's happening. He won't tell me what's wrong and I'm scared."

Yellow eyes rounded wider, swallowing the imp's face. He appeared conflicted.

"Kagome!"

Releasing Jaken, Kagome shifted her attention to Inuyasha, who leapt towards her with alarm pinching his gruff features.

Dread dropped low in her stomach. That was never a good sign.

Distant snapping noises like wood being felled reached her ears. From behind the approaching Hanyou within the forest, large vines could be seen shifting and slithering over a portion of the trees.

"What is it?" Miroku gaped. "I sense a demonic aura, but it's distorted."

Kagome shuddered, feeling strange. She recognised that energy. Identified it as easy as breathing.

"Maybe a forest spirit has been disturbed?" Sango guessed, clutching her son a little more protectively.

"It ain't that," Inuyasha dropped from his jump, landing before them. He panted, white hair windswept. Of all people, his gaze landed upon the miko first. "It's Sesshoumaru."

----

Their way became blocked by a thick mass of vines crisscrossing through the forest. It created a wall, preventing any from entering.

"Lord Sesshoumaru must be further in," Miroku observed, leaning to inspect the leaves. "Beyond this 'barrier' I suppose you could call it."

"I wonder what could have happened," Kagome murmured, brows pulling together. "Sesshoumaru doesn't even have nature powers."

"Why on earth did you bring ME along for this?" a high pitched, nasally voice reached their ears. Sango and Inuyasha readily ignored it, while Kagome frowned down at the imp she held by the scruff of his robes.

"Because you're clearly hiding something, and until you come clean, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

His mouth thinned into a stubborn line, glancing away.

Kagome turned her attention back to the vines. Worry took root in her stomach. The memory of the Daiyoukai spitting up blood remained fresh in her mind, evidence of it staining her clothing and plastering it against her skin.

Handing Miroku their son, Sango went first. She swung Hiraikotsu with a seemingly effortless toss- the bone boomerang spiralling, cleaving trees in half but bouncing straight off the vine wall. It didn't so much as leave a dent.

Not wasting another moment, Inuyasha unsheathed Tetsusaiga. Everyone immediately gave him a wide berth, watching as he shook the sword out into a monstrous blade. He swung it back over one shoulder, feet planted far apart- delivering a swift blow downwards with a loud cry.

A burst of power shot out, heading straight for the vines. They made contact, and for a moment Kagome thought the consuming golden light might break through, only for it to fizzle out. The insurmountable wall remained intact.

Inuyasha tried again and again, using different techniques. None of them worked.

Nocking an arrow in her bow, Kagome took aim. Pale pink reiki split forth, coating the arrow while glowing ever more blinding until she set it free.

She held out hope as it shot through the vines, managing to burst through the dense foliage- which repaired itself almost immediately, covering up the hole.

"Nothing appears to be working," Miroku muttered, turning his friends. "Perhaps we should seek advice elsewhere first before trying to continue."

Her friend's voices faded into background noise as Kagome approached the vines. Frowning slightly, she stretched out her senses, using her aura to touch and brush against the barrier. It felt like him.

If that were the case, the wall was of Sesshoumaru's own making, whether he'd consciously chosen to hide away or not. Perhaps they were going about things the wrong way.

Thinking back to Maji and how carefully they'd run their linked hands down his neck, she raised a palm. Gradually easing closer, Kagome set it down gently onto the vines, stroking downwards.

Hearing outcries of alarm as the greenery parted, only for swirling stems to curl about her shoulders- Kagome quickly grabbed Jaken.

"It's okay, guys. Just find a way to follow me in later," she met their startled gazes. "I feel like I need to reach him quickly."

"Kagome, wait!"

Ignoring their protests, Kagome lept into the fray. She welcomed the green vines that wrapped around her, enclosing the miko and wailing kappa securely behind its wall.

---

Mercifully the winding tendrils of vines that moved as though infused with a will of their own allowed her freedom of movement. Kagome climbed through their moving, twisting stems, occasionally losing her footing and having to grasp hold of some.

"Again, I ask; WHY ARE YOU BRINGING ME ALONG WITH YOU?!" Jaken shrieked, clinging to her back and looking around fretfully.

"You know the answer to that. Tell me what you know about Sesshoumaru's situation and I'll let you go," Kagome hummed, shielding her eyes and looking up at sprawling branches above where sunlight streamed through. Maybe she could punt him over the treetops.

"I have sworn not to break my vow of silence on the matter!"

Grinding her teeth, Kagome stopped and reached over her shoulder, tearing him from her back to frown at him. "If your silence ends up hurting him, is it even worth it? Which means more to you; Sesshoumaru's trust or his life?"

Jaken clamped up, thinking about this for a moment. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, "fine! But you had best save me from his wrath once this is over."

Kagome grinned and patted him on the head, continuing to walk. "I promise."

He huffed, "Lord Sesshoumaru is suffering from a curse."

Blue eyes widened, and Kagome set Jaken over her shoulder like she would Shippo. He did not appreciate the gesture as the kit would while she minded swirling vines aside from their path and ducked through. "What kind of curse?"

"How much do you know about youkai mates, foolish mortal?"

At that, she tilted her head, noticing a blue flowering bud among the vines and gently touching it in passing. "Very little. I know they're like married couples. They, uh... make love and bite each other instead of having a wedding ceremony and stuff. That about sum it up?"

"Insolent girl!" Jaken griped, noticing the bud she touched opening up into a flower behind them. "It is far more than that! Their energies synchronise, aura's linking. However, it's quite imperative they both bite one another."

"Or else the mating is incomplete? What's so bad about that?"

"The partner that was bitten will consider them mated and suffer a one-sided attachment. This isn't so terrible if they have the bite mark healed and lose their troublesome feelings towards their mate," he continued with a self-important air. Kagome didn't mind it if it meant getting answers. "But... if they choose to linger in longing and are prevented from completing the mating, then their energies become distorted! Their youki takes on a life of its own as flowers."

"That's what these vines are," Kagome mused. She shifted, a strange, unsettled feeling churning in her gut. "You're implying someone bit Sesshoumaru? He'd never allow someone to do that if he didn't want it- let alone not reciprocate. Besides, if he could remove it, he'd have surely done so."

"I agree this situation is unprecedented! Unthinkable! Besides that, ANY partner resisting Lord Sesshoumaru's advances is unworthy of being his mate! AH-!"

Kagome jolted, feeling a weight lift from her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she gaped and strained to reach Jaken. Vines had wrapped tight around his mid-section, lifting him away.

"Hang on!" she shimmied her bow off her arm, quickly taking aim. Releasing the arrow, she watched as it hit the mark, sailing through a vine and breaking it in two. Jaken yelped, falling, only to be caught by another vine that continued dragging him back the way they'd come.

"J-just leave me!" he wailed. "Go save Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Kagome blinked, strangely touched. Nodding with conviction, she turned and hurriedly continued to make her way through the dense foliage.

---

Her breath caught the second she caught sight of the flowers.

Forget-me-nots littered the area, becoming more frequent the further in she ventured. Soon she practically waded through a sea of blue petals. They hugged trees, peppering logs, the ground beneath her feet, even climbing above to hang from branches. The vast mass of familiar flowers eventually opened out into a huge clearing packed full of them.

And there, at the centre of it all, Kagome finally saw him.

Vines had burst his chest open, putting quivering lungs on full display. To her horror, she witnessed them expanding and deflating with each struggling, wheezing breath. His ribcage had been repurposed for a vase of flowers. Vibrant blue forget-me-nots poked out between his ribs, green stems tightly wrapped around his bones, constricting.

Sesshoumaru's body lay tilted back, face turned upwards to the sky. Glassy eyes were vacant, blood caking his chin. His armour and hankimono lay shattered and torn on the ground. Around him, the stems that had spilt forth from his gut propped up his lifeless form, clearly part of the mass of greenery that had hindered her approach. Kagome covered her mouth, hand shaking. Tears pricked her eyes. Blue veins visibly spread over his flesh, causing her to wonder if the stems had buried beneath his very skin.

This was not Sesshoumaru. It couldn't be.

Choking on nothing, Kagome hurried closer with a thin noise. Reaching his motionless form, her hands hovered uselessly over his decimated chest. She didn't know where to start. How could she even help him?

"Who did this to you?" her voice wobbled. Stinging eyes misted over, running over his body. He looked like a corpse that had been picked clean by crows. His moving lungs moving were the only indication he was even alive.

"Sesshoumaru- I don't know if you can hear me," Kagome tried, reaching out and touching his cheek. It shocked her skin, icy to the touch. "But please- let go of the person who caused this," she said, locating what she assumed was the mating mark upon his shoulder. "No one is worth dying over. You could start over with your mate. Ask them out- anything!" she shuddered, looking at the flowers poking out from his ribs.

"Just don't die! This isn't like you!" Kagome snapped, tears rolling hotly down her cheeks to slide free from her chin. "Fight this! Keep living. T-there's still so much I want to talk to you about."

The tears landed upon pretty blue petals.

Leaning against him slightly, Kagome sobbed. She wondered if she could just reach out and rip the awful things free from inside his chest.

Why Forget-me-nots, anyway? Why not another flower-

The mating mark halted her hand, fingers brushing the stems. It didn't look like an animal bite, nor did it belong to a demon.

Kagome's eyes slowly widened. She had a distinct tooth at the back of her mouth.

The tooth marks looked like a perfect mould of her teeth.

"Was it...me?" she breathed, glancing up at Sesshoumaru's features dazedly. "Those blank spots in my memory. Was I... with you?"

The puzzle pieces slotted into place perfectly. Kagome stared, feeling like a fool for having not noticed. She'd just thought, assumed- he would never look at her like that.

But if the miko cast her memory back and pictured Sesshoumaru's lovely features, his honeyed gaze resting upon her face, half-lidded, lips quirked, face soft and drinking her in- maybe he had been looking at her 'like that' the whole time.

Kagome shook her head, feeling frantic. She latched onto his shoulders.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen. Why didn't you bite me? Why didn't you TELL me, you stupid demon!" she snapped, cheeks reddening as a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. "All that time we spent together goofing off and talking- and you were suffering in silence? You're so stupid, Sesshoumaru!"

His anguished face did not stir. Kagome mindlessly wiped away the dried blood from his chin with shaky fingers.

"There's no taking this back now," she said quietly, glancing at the bite mark. "So... I guess there's only one thing for it."

It sounded terrible, but Shinto was far from her mind as she lay a hand over her mating mark and began concentrating. When resolving to save someone, Kagome became bullheaded. Sesshoumaru was all she could see as her aura rose out from her body, seeping into his bloodstream via the bite marks.

"You need to wake up," she mumbled, using her free hand to adjust the parting of her white kosode. Sliding it off one shoulder to bare her flesh, Kagome remained heedless of the vines growing and curling around them. They seeped into her ebony hair, twining into the long locks like a lover's hands.

Kagome straddled the Daiyoukai, shuddering a little at being so close to his bare bones. She couldn't have sex with him, obviously, but she suspected it wasn't truly needed to complete the bond. Feeding her energy into his body, she bit her bottom lip. Sweat beaded on her brow.

She began to mumble and pray under her breath.

When her spiritual energy had spread through most his system, Kagome grit her teeth and hoped he'd forgive her. Laying one hand atop his rib-cage directly over his heart, she raised her voice.

"Wake up!"

A pulse of reiki shot out through her palm.

Sesshoumaru jerked beneath her. A ghastly, chocking noise escaped him. His head lolled to the side as he looked at her unseeingly, a trickle of blood welling from the corner of his pale mouth. Kagome quickly wrapped an arm around him, guiding his head to her shoulder.

"Bite down, Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered fiercely into his ear.

Sharp canines brushed her skin, causing a shiver. Wet flecks of blood accompanied it as he coughed. Whimpering with desperation, the miko curled trembling fingers into silver hair. She pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"Please- I want this." She'd do anything to save him. Besides that, a small, buried part of her felt strangely at peace with the action and its meaning. "Bite down!"

A blood-curdling snarl vibrated out from his open chest. Fangs sank deep into her shoulder. At once, dark, dominating youki burst through her system like a shot of adrenaline. Kagome gasped, back arching. It turned her heart into a burning star. Sesshoumaru's presence filled her until she practically burst at the seams. She distantly understood why youkai had sex before biting each other, reeling from it. The orgasm probably softened the intensity. Completion was something the mind could fathom, a release, the pooling of cum inside her.

This felt overwhelming. He was everywhere. His energy burned and licked, igniting and soothing her body like burning whisky.

Kagome felt the pinpricks of fresh tears in her eyes, overcome with a hurricane of emotions she couldn't quite name. She could feel his weakness. His exhaustion. The part of him tethered to her became a lifeline between them, feeding him the energy he'd lost.

Sesshoumaru's mouth peeled back from her flesh. He panted, sinking back. Kagome caught him about the shoulders, cradling him close.

A wave of tiredness sent her sinking down against him, lashes falling shut as dizziness spun her vision.

The last thing she saw before surrendering to the lure of unconsciousness was a canopy of Forget-me-nots surrounding their weary bodies.

----

Drowsy lids slowly cracked open- wincing at the setting sun's harsh orange light peeking out from between the trees. Golden eyes averted and Sesshoumaru stirred with a dusty rumble.

Something heavy lay over his bare chest. He lifted his head.

Kagome rested against his shoulder, dark hair spilling everywhere. Sesshoumaru stared, feeling he must be dreaming. They were laying within a clearing together, which looked clear, quiet and picturesque.

Squinting, he sat up, adjusting the woman against him. Kagome sank against his side, revealing a gaping hole in his flesh, exposing his rib-cage.

Ah, that's right.

The flowers. The vines spilling forth from his chest as blood asphyxiated him, making breathing impossible.

And Kagome...

The miko had come for him. Saved him.

Sesshoumaru ghosted stiff fingers over his mouth, dragging clawed nails down to the fresh bite mark branding his shoulder. He then shifted Kagome, running an aristocratic nose to similar marks adorning her shoulder- a tongue sliding out to drag over bloodied flesh. She tasted wonderful.

Kagome groaned and wrapped her arms around him tighter, burying her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru held her close and revelled in the sensation. However, he soon picked up on the far off shimmer of his barrier enclosing them within their mini safe space. He could sense Inuyasha waiting outside, along with Jaken.

Deciding to lower it, Sesshoumaru rested his lips against the crown of Kagome's head before drawing himself up to stand unsteadily, lifting her into his arms.

When Inuyasha burst into the clearing, leaves scattering and clinging to his thick white hair, he brandished Tetsusaiga, only to lower it with a raised brow.

Sesshoumaru stood clad in his hakama pants, arching a regal brow in return. He approached the hanyou and passed Kagome over wordlessly, ignoring his noise of surprise at the sight of his ribcage.

"It is healing," the demon dismissed.

"Uh, alright," Inuyasha grunted, supporting Kagome. "Should I even ask what the hell happened?"

Sesshoumaru ignored him in favour of looking at the miko. His shoulder ached, and when he drew back his heel with the intention to leave- a fresh wave of discomfort elicited a wince.

Kagome stirred, blue eyes blinking open. She then drew a hand out towards him, "where are you going?"

"This one is..." he trailed off. "I must..."

"No, you don't," she murmured. Patting Inuyasha's shoulder to prompt him to set her down, Kagome flashed her friend a smile. "Thanks for coming for me, but I need to stay with this impossible guy to make sure he heals alright."

Inuyasha eyed the bite mark on her shoulder, nostrils flaring. "You sure?"

Kagome nodded firmly.

"What do ya want me to tell Shinto if he asks where ya are?"

Guilt passed over her face, and blue eyes flicked away, before finding him again. "Just say I'm visiting another village. I need to tell him the truth myself."

Relenting, Inuyasha stepped away, shooting Sesshoumaru a warning look before reluctantly leaving them be again, feeling like the wind had been thoroughly knocked out of his sails.

The Daiyoukai watched her, stunned.

"It's crazy you're even up and walking around in your condition," Kagome rubbed at her forehead, reaching out and seizing frozen fingers. "Come on, let's find a cave to take shelter in for the night."

----

The demon lord stopped and slid unrelenting attention down to her once they reached the mouth of a cave. "What made you choose this place?"

"I dunno, it wasn't far away and it felt familiar," Kagome hummed, meeting his gaze. "Have we... used it before? In the past?"

Golden eyes cracked wider. "You remember?" he asked in a quiet, brittle tone.

She shook her head, "not at all. I just figured it out. Would've been nice if you'd told me," releasing his hand, she wandered inside, finding a bed of furs awaiting them further in, cracks of sunlight streaming in through holes in the rock ceiling. Her cheeks reddened a little, imagination running wild.

"You really scared me back there," she murmured, back turned to him. "I thought you were going to die."

"That is why you completed the mating," Sesshoumaru uttered. To save him, and for no other reason.

A part of him had hoped she'd remembered, but another had immediately recognised the sacrifice she'd made. Kagome was a selfless individual in the face of danger. If Inuyasha were dying, or any of her other friends, he wondered if she'd mate them if it meant saving their lives.

With a benevolence he did not truly feel, Sesshoumaru forced himself to prioritise her comfort. "If this is not something you wish for- there are ways of severing the bond."

"Stop," she grit out, whirling to face him. Flinty blue eyes took his breath away. "Stop lying all the time. I remember valuing your company and opinion because you were always so blunt with me. You never held back your opinions."

"I am not lying, there is a way to sever it."

"But that's not what you want! Damn it- you nearly died because you couldn't open your mouth! Just be honest for once and tell me how you're feeling, Sesshoumaru. What do YOU want?"

Energy lashed at the air, kicking up a breeze that caused dark hair to fly back. Hands closed over the back of her neck, cradling her skull. Lips were shoved against hers, smothering startled breath.

"You," Sesshoumaru breathed in a brief parting, kissing her fiercely again. His mouth slanted ardently over hers, the hint of a fang brushing her lips. "Is it not obvious I cannot abide anything but having you? Foolish woman, it is for your sake I held back. Once you submit, there is no escaping me."

Kagome gaped, unable to keep up with the sheer amount of heated kisses. Her hands settled over his arms, heat igniting her cheeks. She'd never received a kiss like it before and tentatively returned it. A small gasp and accompanying noise from him only confirmed to her how much he wanted it. She could feel the tension in his frame. He was holding back even now.

When he pulled away, she panted, thumb dragging over magenta cheek stripes. "Didn't that feel so much better than burying everything?" she teased weakly. "Even if I'd rejected you, surely that would've been better than regret- than nearly dying."

Sesshoumaru's gaze slid away. He then released a long sigh, clawed hands curling in her hair. "You seemed happy with the mercenary."

"Ex-mercenary," she corrected out of habit, leaning into his touch. "And I was. I like him. But..." Kagome looked at him. Really looked, and somehow it clicked that his face was the only one she wanted to wake up to in the mornings to follow. When had things gotten to that point? Had she wanted this while lazing on the riverbank with him so long ago? Things would've been so much more simple if she'd identified it sooner. If he'd said something.

How foolish they both were.

Stepping closer, she blushed and tilting her head back in order to ghost her lips over a firm jaw. "I like you more."

Power sparked her insides at the ensuing shudder he gave. "Mating entails more than 'liking' one another, miko. Can you deal with my extended company? Being mine?"

Kagome pretended to consider this. "For how long?"

His lips quirked. "Centuries. Possibly thousands of years."

"That's a long time," her eyes danced. "I guess I'm okay with that if you work on your communication skills."

He inclined his head gravely, dipping his nose into her hair and inhaling a lungful. It felt so good to have clear airways again.

"Sesshoumaru, there is something I want to ask you about; Why didn't you bite me? And what happened during that night I lost my memories?"

"I intended to, miko," he said with dark promise. Displeasure curled his lip. "You managed to bite me during climax. I do not think you understood the ramifications of it at the time. I would have reciprocated nonetheless. Unfortunately, my senses- brilliant as they are- sensed a disturbance in the forest. A herd of boar youkai were bolting towards your precious village."

He could scowl all he wanted about it, but Kagome knew of his attachment to Rin. No doubt they'd both wasted no further time in lovemaking and quickly made for the village.

"We fought them, tried to redirect them. You asked me to save a boy that had fallen during the village's impromptu evacuation. Naturally, I did so- but it meant leaving you alone."

Kagome winced. Her hand found the back of her head, remembering waking to a sizable bump and stitches. "They got me, huh?"

"One struck you down," Sesshoumaru uttered with a weary tone. "I did not know where you were, as we had become separated in the chaos. When I eventually found you... the mercenary was nursing your wounds."

"I remember," she said gently. A stab of sympathy clenched her heart. Stroking a hand down his bicep, she sighed. "That must've been awful, to lose me so soon after almost completing the mating. I didn't realise, didn't recall our relationship. I greeted you so casually and didn't get why you were lingering around in his hut."

"The fault is not yours," Sesshoumaru rested large hands possessively on her hips.

Kagome glanced at him, squinting. "Neither is it yours," she pressed her fingers to his lips when he opened his mouth. "Nope! Not yours. I wouldn't have wanted you to prioritise guarding me that night. If you had, that boy you saved might've lost his life. Besides, I can usually take care of myself. They caught me on a bad day."

The two fell into silence. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, resting thin lips against the crown of her head while Kagome leaned carefully against him.

"I find it weird that we've had a whole conversation while you have a massive hole in your chest. At least I can't see your whole ribcage like before. Seems like the skin and muscle are repairing," she mumbled.

"It will heal quickly," he dismissed, palms gliding over her back.

Kagome made a soft noise, basking in his warmth. "It's also weird that this feels so natural to me," she lifted her head, catching his eye. "I might not remember us. Ever. So just... promise me you won't search for my past self in me. I've been through that before."

He swept her down into the furs, covering her form with his own. "Hn, we will live in the present."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she sank into the soft, comforting furs. Her heart fluttered, stomach jumping. "Thank you."

A silver curtain of hair blocked out their surroundings as Kagome pulled him closer, both mindful of his injury. She smiled, searching his gaze and slowly delivering a sweet kiss to his lips.

Sesshoumaru let out a long sigh of relief, their foreheads meeting.

"Hey, on the bright side..." Kagome gave him a cheeky grin. "I get to experience my 'first time' with you again."

Astonishment painted his features. A simmering, darkly satisfied look soon replaced it, transforming his face into something more raw and honest. Kagome accepted his anticipation, his hunger, not dissuading him from it. She endeavoured to encourage even more displays of emotion from him.

"You don't need to hold back," she murmured, accepting his searing kiss. "Tell me everything you've wanted to say to me since losing my memory. I don't mind."

Their energies twined once more, and the miko hooked her leg over his hip to anchor him against her without any seductive intentions. She merely wanted him close, and Sesshoumaru did not argue, burying closer to her the second he healed. Skin met skin, noses brushing.

In the hush that followed, Sesshoumaru took his lips to her ear and began talking.

End

[needsmoresleepwrites]

"We understand why you did it but...we're a team, right? Together we can fly even higher. Always." (HQ Fluff Week, D1)

Restless, Ch2

Read Chapter 1 | Ao3

Hinata can't help the bouncing. It's been years since he's been back and after "sightseeing" from afar (because really, they could still be recognized, it hadn't been that long since they left) they're home.

Tsukishima scoffs, "It's only been a few years for us, it's been nearly their whole lives."

Hinata smiles, grabs Tsukishima's hand in his, reminds himself that yes, that's true, it could have been Tsukishima's whole life, nearly gone in the sixty years they'd been away, is glad they found a way to make it not so. But he also feels slightly guilty. Was Tsukishima glad he'd left all of this behind? It was still early but what if...

Tsukishima squeezes his hand, "Stop thinking, you always think about stupid things and then get sad."

Hinata pouts, "Not stupid!"

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, "Really? Then why the constipated look? Need a bathroom? You can probably run into the woods." He frowns at the lack of homes as they continue to follow the road, "Where did they say to meet again? I can't believe Tadashi lives so far..."

Meanwhile Hinata just splutters, "That's so unsanitary!! And no I'm not constipated, we haven't even eaten human food!!"

Tsukishima laughs and tugs at his arm, "Then everything is okay, let's hurry."

Hinata feels a smile come to his face again and he yells out, "Okay!" Because really, Tsukishima is right, somehow everything has been alright

Which is why they even have this opportunity

---

After being gone with little to no communication, most of Karasuno had paid them a surprise visit at their new home, which was so far out North that Tsukishima had nearly frozen when they'd first moved there.

(Hinata remembers how he'd felt so useless, unable to help warm Tsukishima. It was the opposite really, his body much too cold, and after sleeping together for years, making sure to keep his distance, at least at night when Tsukishima's temperature also dropped, had made him very sad. They'd both acclimated to the situation in time)

They had only just finished a feeding session, which Tsukishima had almost forcefully made Hinata do. He'd noticed how Hinata somehow felt colder, he had been spacing out, and that tanned tinge to his skin was starting to become paler. He had started to look like, well, a creature

"Just hurry up and drink!" He'd pushed his arm under Hinatas nose, his sweater sleeve drawn up. He'd seen the way Hinata's eyes had dilated, his mouth opened, but still he held back

He'd sighed, touched Hinata's lips, "It's okay, I'll be fine, it'll only be a bit."

Hinata had drank, carefully, watching him, making sure he really was okay. He'd then lapped at his skin, tickling him with his tongue, kissed the fading and new marks of his teeth, staining his lips red, and then bandaged him up, pulled his sleeve down, kissed him over the cloth, held his hand

"I love you."

The knock came when Hinata was putting away the first aid kit

They had both been confused. They hadn't told anyone their new address, although they also hadn't tried to hide it either (anyone who truly wanted to find them could with a bit of detective work). Tsukishima pulled on a small blanket over his shoulders as Hinata went to open the door

Karasuno's relieved but upset faces greeted him

They'd sat around their small living room, the air slightly tense.

It had been interesting to see Hinata apologize and try to hide what was going on, his flailing and muttered words so obviously lies that even Kageyama wasn't convinced.

Tsukishima had finally given into Hinata's side stare and admitted, "He's a vampire."

Hinata just gaped at him.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it was Kageyama who broke the silence with a so that's why your hands were always so cold, which made Tsukishima want to facepalm. Really? So easily? And because of that? Hinata could have just had bad circulation (although thinking about it, that probably wouldn't have made much sense either)

But then the pieces began to come into place for the others too and Tsukishima begrudgingly was glad for Kageyama's words. The little things that everyone always found off but never truly questioned surfaced

Sugawara, "The passing out?"

Tanaka, "I knew it was weird you didn't eat as much as us even though you ran around the most!"

Nishinoya, "So cool!! Can you turn into a bat?!"

Daichi, "Wait, are you...?"

He'd shaken his head, "No." He paused. They may as well tell them about their plans too, "Not yet."

That was how they shared their biggest secret. And also when they were made to promise not to disappear again

Sugawara had smacked their backs, "Our first years are so high maintenance! I can't believe you made us come all the way out here!"

Taukishima had just sighed, "We haven't been in school for years."

Sugawara was quick to reply, "And yet you two still act like kids, especially with this little stunt!"

Azumane had been kinder. He'd grabbed Hinata by the shoulder, a soft smile on his lips, "We understand why you did it but...we're a team, right? Together we can fly even higher. Always."

Hinata had cried big ugly tears, "Always!"

---

It was the first time Hinata had broken his rule about returning to a place before it was safe and he's glad the reason is this little town where he's gained so much. Perhaps he'll find himself living here a third time (another rule broken) in the distant future, Tsukishima at his side

But for now, they sneak into town in order to meet up with their friends, practically family, without anyone's notice.

"Finally, there it is," Tsukishima sighs

It was a perfect little home with a big backyard, nearly merging with the woods behind it if it weren't for the fencing around the house. There also weren't many neighbors, which was ideal for the occasion. They came in through the back, the door left unlocked just for them

There's a woman on the porch, her silver hair cropped, and her tiny feet dangling in the air, sandals right under just in case she needs them. She has a baby on her lap, a pacifier keeping them occupied, while another child, this one a toddler, runs around with a volleyball in hand. He seems to be blubbering about something Hinata can't make out. He feels his eyes prickle and he grins wide

"Yachi!!" he waves at her while pulling Tsukishima along.

Yachi turns around, only just noticing them. She rearranges the baby so they are sitting up, "Hinata!! Tsukishima!!" She turns into the house, "Tadashi, they're here!"

There is some shuffling indoors and then a freckled man appears, his back slightly angled, "Tsukki?!"

From there, an outpour of people comes. Tsukishima mutters an I can't believe the King is still alive, I thought he'd keel over first, and Hinata can't help the bellow that leaves his body

And Kageyama, such a force on their team, is still loud and awkward and unwavering. And he needs a cane because of an injury

Sugawara had laughed when he'd told them the news a few months back, "He still acts like a kid, his body can't keep up!"

Azumane is the first to properly greet them, "You two really haven't changed."

Nishinoya is on his heels, still bright and energetic. His hair is shorter and speckled with gray, and just as wild as his high school days, "Of course they haven't, you know why!"

Azumane laughs, "Not because of that."

Yachi asks Hinata if he wants to hold the baby, her grandchild from her youngest daughter, now 23 and conveniently not home. Hinata nods enthusiastically and he's instantly charmed by the gurgles and kicking and the honey-brown eyes he's sure they've inherited from Yachi (Yachi blushes, but nods, "Yup! My daughter and her husband both have dark eyes so all mine!).

As he's holding the child, he realizes this is the first time he's been this happy, not about leaving, he will always hate leaving, but at how things turned out

He watches Tsukishima carry the other child, who hadn't stopped staring at him because "Ta'! Me, up, up!"

Daichi and Tanaka aren't there yet, both of them running late (Sugawara tells them Daichi went to pick up Kiyoko and Tanaka from her family home where she'd been visiting her parents' graves. He'd laughed at Hinata's worried look, Don't worry. None of them are actually driving.) - but everyone else is sitting outside in the shade of the porch, recounting the latest gossip. Their laughing is loud and Hinata thinks that his family has also not changed at all

He looks over at Tsukishima, who now has a slightly disgusted look on his face as he lets the child climb on his shoulders, his dirty hands pulling at his blonde hair

Hinata smiles.

Together they really have flown to the top

It's perfect.

---

A/N:

i was conflicted about tenses and character names #rip (ah well)

i hope you guys enjoyed! this is sort of the “good ending” of this used to be oneshot i wrote for the seasons of anime exchange, but like i mentioned in that posts notes, i kind of wanted to continue but didn’t know if i should do the good or bad ending xD maybe if there’s a hq angst week i can post the bad ending :”) but for now, i think this will be it?! who knows

Prompts for day 1: - Reunion - Found family - "We can fly even higher!"

[bellesque]

One Kiss (Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Also available on my AO3.

Rating: G Word Count: 2.5K Tags: Fluff, Best Friends to Lovers, you’re angey and tom calms you down Summary: Whenever one of you is upset, you and your best friend Tom head to your favorite ice cream parlor to vent and eat your feelings. Usually you feel better afterwards. For some reason, this time, a cone of your favorite flavor and a rant doesn't quite do the trick.

A/N:  Hey y'all. Life's been keeping me busy, but I'm back with another Tom oneshot! This was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend about being calmed down by someone she likes. I hope you enjoy!

YOU’RE SEEING RED.

You grind your teeth, feeling the muscle in your jaw twitch as you stalk away. You knew not to engage, not to start fights with people unless you knew you could finish them, but this time they had crossed a line. The safest and smartest course of action for you right now is to literally walk away from it before you do something you regret.

You’re not sure where you’re going exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from Point A and get to Point B, wherever the hell that is.

Rounding the corner to get to your car, you huff at the memory of the things that were said about you. Of the things that were said to you. It all sends a fresh bout of roiling anger to pulse through your veins.

The car door swings open way too wide and you get into the driver’s seat, slamming the door with more force than necessary. You exhale, your eyes scanning your reflection through the rearview mirror. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes filled with cold rage, your mouth is pressed into a hard line. It’s only now you realize that you’re actually shaking—and then, without warning, you feel hot tears well up in your eyes.

Angrily you swat at your face, your eyebrows scrunching together in frustration. Damn it, why do you have to be an angry crier?

Taking a few shuddering breaths you manage to get your emotions under control, although the frustration still lingers like a gentle nudging.

You can’t stay like this forever. It’s in your nature to feel things and then let it pass, but it isn’t completely out of your system yet; you need to vent.

You try calling your closest friends (all 3 of them), only they’re all busy. It’s fine. You don’t hold it against them, knowing everyone has their own life to live. Only it bothers you a little to think that some of them simply brushed you off and changed the direction of the conversation.

Which leads you here, in the parking lot of your favorite ice cream place. You came here in the hopes of cooling off by buying yourself your go-to ice cream, except you’re short on cash. Which means no ice cream for you, and your irritation levels are still pretty high.

The interior of the car begins to feel suffocating as your mind stews in dark thoughts. You climb out and lean against your car, observing the vehicles passing by on the highway that stretches before you with your arms crossed and your expression sullen.

And then someone calls out your name tentatively.

“I didn’t order anything,” is somehow the answer that spills from your lips, and you don’t bother turning around to check if the person has left or not.

He comes into your peripheral vision, but you don’t look at him until he says, “I knew it was you!”

“Oh. Tom. Hi.” You hastily shuffle your features into a polite smile, an alien action considering you want to be doing anything but that. You’re still a little (considerably) mad.

Tom is an acquaintance to you, a friend of a friend who you met at a small social dinner. You haven’t communicated with him since you were introduced all those months ago. You’re surprised he even took the time out to say hello to you today, seeing as you’ve barely had any interaction with him. He could have easily just went about his day without sparing a second glance at you.

He shifts on his feet, hesitating, before he pulls you in for a half hug. As all awkward encounters go, you’re not sure what to do. You can sense him wondering if his hug of greeting is crossing any line so you make it a point to pat him on the shoulder, letting him know that it’s not a big deal. You’re even rather touched at the action; Tom has always been the portrait of a perfect gentleman, and though you barely know him, you know the kindness and concern he has for others is genuine. The man’s hugging you, all warm and amiable, for goodness sake.

“It’s nice to see you,” you say when you pull away.

Tom smiles, his chin dipping minutely in acknowledgment. “And you too. Did I hear you correctly earlier, did you really not get any ice cream?”

“Oh, uh…” You let out a sheepish laugh. “It’s… fine. It’s nothing. I just…” You look around the parking lot. “Like coming here for no reason…? Ha, no, actually I, uh, needed to let off some steam.” Your babble makes you cringe. Maybe it would have been better if Tom hadn’t stopped to be polite. It would have saved you from wanting the earth to swallow you whole right now.

There’s a subtle shift in the expression Tom wears as he studies you, so slight that you could miss it entirely—only he stands close enough for you to notice the concern in his eyes and the knitting of his brows.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone almost kills you. “I should have seen that you wanted to be left alone. I hope things turn out alright.” He lays a comforting squeeze on your shoulder. “It was nice meeting you again. Hopefully I can see you another time under better circumstances.”

And before he can take three steps away from you, you call out to him. “Wait.”

You catch up to him and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I was being rude. I actually wouldn’t mind the company?” Your statement comes out like a question: a silent invitation for him to stay with you.

It’s ridiculous, you think at the back of your mind. An overstep, considering you just brushed him off earlier and he likely has other plans. But the way Tom simply beams at you, offering to pay for your ice cream (“You wouldn’t come here to just sit in the parking lot. My treat”) abates your aggravation by the smallest degree. You need a friend. He may not be the one you anticipated, but you’re grateful all the same.

He asks about your day and you find yourself pouring out your frustrations, being vague at the beginning until you’re telling him every little thing that’s happened today that went wrong. And he listens with patient understanding, his attention solely focused on you as he sympathizes and empathizes in all the right moments. It’s cathartic, the way you’re able to release everything through words, and Tom doesn’t interrupt you whatsoever. By the end of it, with your stomach full and your heart light, you realize that the afternoon with him was spent fixated on your woe-is-me ranting.

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him afterwards. “I’m sorry for dumping all that on you. But I’m also really grateful, so, thank you.”

“Don’t apologize. I know what it’s like to need to let things out.” He gives you a genuine smile as you rise to your feet. “I presume now we’ll be keeping in touch?”

“Not just about this situation, I promise,” you grin. “But really—thank you. You really calmed me down.”

“Always happy to help,” he replies, his kind eyes crinkling, and you hug briefly—this time not awkward at all—before parting ways.

Over the next few weeks, you keep in correspondence with Tom. You learn about his work and he talks about his day and vice versa. You talk about your favorite movies, your favorite books, analyzing and exchanging theories. What once was mere acquaintanceship has blossomed into friendship, and you know it isn’t one-sided when Tom calls you, his voice nettled, and you immediately suggest to meet up at the ice cream parlor.

“But I mean,” you add, in fear of… something, you’re not quite sure, “only if you want to.”

“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

And so it begins. The ice cream parlor becomes your unspoken sanctuary for when times get tough and one of you needs to get something off their chest. It’s a good friendship, you think, the fact that you’re there for each other in the hard times as well as in the best and goofy times.

You’re happy and content to have someone like Tom in your life. A constant, nonjudgmental, and low-maintenance friend. He isn’t there for just the times you need to vent, no, your friendship has turned out to be something wholesome. You find yourself seeking him out when you have something you want to share, be it something good or something bad, and almost always your mood lifts when you’re with him.

Which is exactly what you need right now.

It’s been a pretty bad day altogether: from the moment you woke up this morning it seemed as though everything was going downhill. You want to have a good cry, to scream and yell. So much has been building up inside you that you’re tired of fighting and you really just need your best friend.

Wow, he really has become your best friend.

It’s the middle of the night and you’re waiting in the ice cream parlor parking lot, a ball of angry energy. You’re pacing—something you don’t do very often—just to calm down a little.

It doesn’t help.

Tom arrives shortly, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. Good, because he knows you need this time to stew a little. Instead he makes a beeline for the ice cream shop’s interior, and he comes out with two cones in each hand. He hands one to you wordlessly.

“Go,” he says, and at the single encouragement you launch into a long-winded detailing of your day. You’re grateful that the shop’s not particularly busy today—your voice is taking on a pretty loud volume in the parking lot, rushed and strained and emotional. You expect to feel the calmness wash over you as soon as you’re finished with your story and your ice cream.

Only you’re still mad.

“Tom. Tom, I’m still mad,” you say, the urgency in your tone almost comical.

He’s thoughtful and quiet, sitting on the hood of your car. “Well, love, sometimes—”

“I don’t really need a speech right now,” you snap. Shit, this is bad. You’ve never once taken out your frustrations on Tom, but that’s also because usually some ice cream and yelling does the trick for you. You’re in foreign territory, and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry, I’m just super stressed.”

“I can see that,” he comments, his blue eyes fixed on you as you begin to pace again.

“It’s just—” You catch yourself before you can rehash everything you just told him. You round on him. “Tom, calm me down. Don’t talk me down, just…”

He rises to his feet, and you continue pacing. “Fuck, why am I so mad?” you hiss, mostly to yourself.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know!” You stop, raising your hands up in annoyance. “Distract me, anything to get my mind off it. You should be good at that, you’re supposed to be my best friend.” It’s not his fault you’re still nettled, of course it isn’t. You know that. But your emotions are getting the better of you, and everything is starting to spiral. You’re sure Tom is going to be upset with you after this. He doesn’t deserve this version of you. And so you begin to berate yourself, your anger now directed at you and your stupid tendency to—

Tom grabs you by the shoulders and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

All the fight from your body seems to dissipate at that very moment, and you stare up at him, dumbfounded. A warmth begins to spread across your body, and it’s not from the previous frustration you were feeling. Your best friend, Tom Hiddleston, he—

You blink. “Did you just—”

“Did it work?” he asks, his voice just barely above a whisper. His gaze is soft, tentative, scanning every inch of your face for any sign of emotion. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Dumbstruck, that’s what you are. You didn’t think something as simple as a forehead kiss would render such an effect on you. “Did it take your mind off things?”

“Y-you caught me off-guard,” you answer, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“Then I guess it did.”

Your cheeks are warm. Damn it, you never expected to be quieted in such a way. But he’s right—you’re no longer upset, but now all you can think about and obsess over is the way his lips gentled the roaring tigress in you.

You look back on all the times you spent together: how he’s been there for you, and you for him. Silly moments and silly photos. The fuzzy feelings you tried to quell whenever they’d come up. But now they’re here, at the fore of your consciousness, and you fidget.

What are the odds…?

“I’m still a little upset, though,” you say, your voice a little shaky as you take one step closer towards him. You’ve never felt this bold, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Looking up at him, seeing the wonder and longing in his eyes, you think—shit, you hope you’re not wrong—that you both are feeling the exact same way.

His arms settle around your shoulders. Safe, tentative, unsure. “Oh?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face. Platonic? Could be, to some outsiders. But it’s the way he’s looking at you that gives you the confirmation you need. Here, in this moment, you’re in your own little bubble, the air that was once thick with frustration now thick with tension.

“Yeah, just a little.”

“Do you need another distra—”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and tiptoe, bringing your face to his and kissing him full on the lips to silence him. His arms snake around your waist, delighting you, and your fingers find themselves entangled in his gorgeous curls. It’s not how you picture first kisses to go, but it’s somehow exactly how you pictured kissing Tom would be like. Soft. Sweet. Like coming home.

You pull away, slightly breathless, and Tom rests his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he mutters, his eyes closed.

“Hey now, I kissed you,” you tease, giggling. His eyes open, and his grip around your waist tightens.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” And he pulls you in for another kiss, just as sweet as the first. You think you will never get enough of this, if this is going to be your new life together. You didn’t realize how many romantic feelings you’ve suppressed, but now that they’re finally out in the open it only feels right. To be here, in his arms, in the parking lot of your favorite ice cream place.

You gently place your hands on his chest and your lips part. “I don’t think the staff would appreciate a makeout session out here,” you grin.

Tom’s hand finds yours, and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles before bringing them to his lips for a kiss. “You’re right. Another round of ice cream?”

“I’m in.”

[immortalcoelacanth]

Conductor x Oblivious!Reader Oneshot: Is it Still Called a Ship if it Involves a Train?

My muse is all over the place and I have tons of ideas, my mind cannot contain them all and I don’t know how I wrote this. Also as a heads up I’ve been thinking about backing up my other reader oneshots on Tumblr on AO3 just in case something happens, so if you see them there don’t be surprised. 

Wordcount: 2791

Summary: The Conductor loved his train and wanted it in peak condition, that was why he visited the repair shop so much, and of course you were always the technician who checked everything, you specialized in trains after all! It only made sense!

Now, what didn’t make sense was how oblivious you were to his feelings. 

“The Conductor’s back?! Again?! I thought we just checked out the train last week! Everything was fine!” 

“Maybe he blew some of it up again? Like in that one movie?”

“I doubt it! He’s just train crazy!”

You let out a chuckle at the banter between your coworkers as you clicked away your computer, scanning through the active tickets and what needed to be done after. You worked in a repair shop for all sorts of vehicles. Most of the customers had cars that needed to be checked out, but some had more unusual modes of transportation. 

Like the Conductor and his train. 

He was one of the more… interesting customers you had interacted with. He was loud, very loud, and self-centered. 

Not that he was ever rude to any of your coworkers, or your boss, but you assumed this was because you were the ones responsible for keeping his train in tip top shape. 

Granted, the pool of people responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of his train had slowly dwindled until you were practically the only one checking it out. This was mainly due to the fact that you were the one on site who was the most knowledgeable about trains, they had been your passion since you were a child, and… 

Well, for some reason the Conductor always wanted you to be the one doing the work. 

You assumed this was for consistency’s sake, and the fact that it would make it far easier for him to get to know you as it was generally a good idea for a mechanic and their long term customer to have a good relationship, but he was surprisingly insistent about it even if there were long wait times. 

Fortunately he was never rude to your coworkers while he waited, nor did he insist on rushing anything. He just waited patiently for his turn and occasionally spoke to some other customers about his movies, being surprisingly polite when one of them mentioned not having seen them. 

Which was very out of character according to some of your coworkers, and speaking of them-

“Hey! You got Conductor’s ticket again?” The coworker nearest to you asked, their overalls stained with oil and grime, as were their feathers. “Since he’s just gonna bug us until we ask you to…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it!” You quickly nodded while walking over to them. “Do you know what he’s coming in about?” “I dunno, something about his train sounding weird earlier.” They shrugged. “According to the boss he didn’t sound super worried or anything, but he insisted on coming in later today.”

“CAW!” You both jumped at the sudden noise and spun around, facing the newest arrival of the slowly forming group. Towering above the both of you was yet another coworker.

Or, perhaps croworker would be a more accurate title to call her by. 

She crossed her wings and glared down at you. “Are you the reason why he’s back, again?! I thought you fixed everything the last time he was here!”

“I did!” You insisted, taking a step back and raising your hands defensively. “Everything was fine when he left, and I didn’t see any problems other than cosmetic damage in the first place!”

The occasional bump and scrap was much better than the broken up and busted train that had been brought in one day, the Conductor sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he briefly mentioned something about a filming incident. 

You had cried true, honest tears upon seeing all that damage. That poor, poor train. 

The Crow stared at you for a moment longer before leaning down and asking a rather strange question. “Did you say yes or no then?”

“... To what?” You countered, extremely confused. Your confusion grew when she threw her wings up into the air and stomped off, yelling something about dense bird brains.

“I wonder what’s up with her?” Your other coworker mused, and you offered them a weak shrug before getting back to work. 

Hours passed and eventually the train engine belonging to the Conductor appeared in the front of the shop. Already, you could hear the mumblings and grumbling of the train being immaculate, and it was fine before, followed by a why is he here?

Even your boss seemed to be a bit annoyed at the Conductor’s insistence on getting the train looked over, and probably would have scolded the bird if it were not for how much money the shop made off of him. 

It was a lot of money. 

You were snapped out of your musings when you heard that accented voice grow louder, indicating that he was getting closer. You quickly dusted off your overalls, smiled that signature, customer service smile, and made your way towards the source of the shop’s annoyance. 

And then there he was. 

The Conductor. 

There was no mistaking his short stature and the brightness of his feathers. Although, something that was quite unusual was the bag he was carrying with him, the plastic giving away nothing about what item might be contained inside. He was looking around the shop, trying to find something from the look of it, but the moment his gaze landed on you-

“There yer are!” He called out, waving eagerly as he practically ran over to see you. You instinctively smiled and waved back. 

It was good to be polite to customers, especially someone who spent as much money as the Conductor, but you also enjoyed your talks with him. Watching him ramble about his train and his experiences driving it were always fun, and you had learned that he was a magnificent storyteller. 

You missed the way one of your coworkers elbowed the other while quietly whispering something to get, getting a laugh out of the one they had spoken to. 

“Hello, Conductor!” You cheerfully greeted, smile immediately growing more genuine at the thought of being able to chat with him once again. “So, what’s going on with the train?”

“Well, erm… me train started soundin’ a bit… off.” He explained, sounding strangely nervous as he discussed what the problem was. “Can yer check the engine?”

“So you think the sounds were coming from the engine? Not the wheels?” You pressed, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed in concern. “Did you do anything to the train? Any… intense activities?”

Did you blow up your train again?

“N-Nae!” He quickly objected, quickly shaking his head. “Nothin’ like that! Just strange sounds. Can... can yer help?”

“I can take a look and tell you what I find.” You said, getting a toothy grin out of the Conductor. 

“Yer an angel.” The bird sighed, sounding quite relieved at your offer. “If yer’d like ta know more-”

“Of course I would!” You immediately replied as you made your way over to the train. “You and I need to have a long chat about what you’re worried about, and I’ll keep you updated on the status of the train. I’m assuming you’ll be waiting here?”

“Aye!” The Conductor was quick to nod, secretly happy to be able to spend more time with you.

You were definitely the best part about visiting this shop. Your personality was so bubbly and warm, but you also were not afraid to put rude customers in their place as he had seen you do on multiple occasions. You were smart and confident, yet you were also very humble and compassionate. 

Far more compassionate than he was, and he knew this. He knew how rude he could be at times, the Receptionist had scolded him on multiple occasions about his behavior, but… 

Every reason that caused him to act the way he did, his inner insecurities and worries and fears that bubbled up and filled his mind to the brim with their screaming seemed to fade whenever he was around you. 

You and your questions about his movies and his train, about the stories that he had memorized to tell his grandchildren over and over again. He knew he would get mocked if he ever voiced such feelings, so he always kept them hidden and to himself. 

Although, his feelings were not quite as hidden as he had hoped for since it seemed as though most of the workers in the repair shop had figured out why he was so insistent on you being the one to look over his train. That, and the smug looks some of them sent his way.

Especially that one Crow…

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he noticed you making your way over to the train, and he quickly rushed over to join you, the bag on his arm swaying. That’s right, he still needed to give you that, too. 

But first, train inspection. 

Together, you both climbed up the side of the train, with you taking a moment to make sure the Conductor was still following you, before making your way inside. You were unable to stop the impressed noise from escaping you as you took in the interior of the train engine, all the high tech glowing buttons and levers covering the main console. It was so easy to imagine how amazing it must feel to drive this train, the sheer amount of power and speed.

It left you breathless. 

… But, the interior was as spotless as it had been the last time you had seen it. Granted, you had not thoroughly checked anything yet, but the sheer amount of light reflecting off of the metallic surfaces, and the general lack of dirt and grime led you to believe that the problem was not here. 

And your hypothesis was proven soon enough as, after spending nearly an hour looking over all the intricate mechanisms, and chatting with the Conductor, you did not find anything that was damaged or showed signs of potentially causing problems. 

You let out a concerned hum and looked at the Conductor, not really registering how some of his feathers took on a more reddish hue, nor how he seemed to anxiously mess with his suit. Without a word, you made your way out of the train and moved to inspect the massive wheels, assuming that the problem might be there.

Nope.

Nada.

Nothing.

“There… there isn’t anything I can see wrong.” You slowly concluded as you backed away from the train. “No breaks, no other forms of damage, no malfunctioning parts, nothing.”

“Aye? Erm, well, perhaps yer should take yer time? Try not to rush and give yerself a break-” The Conductor rambled as you practically glared at the train, as if trying to force it to give up all its secrets. 

Where, where could that problem be?

You crossed your arms as you contemplated how to best solve this problem. The engine was… fine. Nothing seemed to be out of place or broken, nor were there any leaks or other signs of potential sources of problems. It was downright immaculate, what you had come to expect from the Conductor, but you knew you would not rest until you figured out what the problem was. 

It was a source of pride for you, how thorough your work was, and it helped that your boss rewarded you for your efforts. Not knowing whether the train was actually fine or not would… nag at you. 

Immensely. 

Although, given the fact that the train was stationary and the Conductor claimed to have heard those strange noises when he had been driving it, it was possible that the problem would not show itself unless the train was moving. Something that might be caused by stress, or even a poorly connected section of the tracks. 

You clapped your hands together as you came up with an idea. Yes! That would work perfectly! Excitement filling you at the prospect of your plan, you turned to the Conductor and spoke. 

“Can you give me a ride?”

The reactions to your question were… varied, to say the least. 

You heard one of your coworkers break down laughing hard enough to the point where they started coughing, you heard what sounded like someone facepalming hard enough to leave a mark, and as for the Conductor-

He squawked, loudly. 

The feathers on his face took on a more reddish hue, especially around his cheeks and forehead, and his maw hung open in what you assumed to be surprise. The feathers on the side of his head also seemed to have fluffed up at some point. It made him look…

Cute. 

“I might be able to find the problem if I’m with you when the train is moving.” You explained, watching as the red flush faded from the Conductor’s feathers. “So, would it be okay if I joined you on your next train ride?”

“Erm-course!” The Conductor quickly replied, still strangely flustered. “When… when should I pick yer up, then?”

“Hmm…” 

Obviously you needed to conform to his schedule since you had a feeling his days were pretty busy between running his train and filming movies, plus you were certain you could haggle your boss into covering how many hours you were there for.

“How about I spend the day with you?” You suggested. “That way I have plenty of time to check out the train without interrupting your schedule. Does that sound good?”

“Yer… yer be wantin’ ta spend the whole day…?” The feathers around the Conductor’s face started taking on that reddish hue once again. “From sunrise ta sunset?” 

“For as long as you’ll have me!” You answered with a nod. “And you can tell me to leave if I start bothering you.”

“Nae! Nae! That won’t be a problem!” The Conductor quickly objected as he flailed his feathery hands. “Yer can spend as long as yer want on… me train-”

Wow, I wonder why his voice cracked like that…

“Alright, it’s a date, then!” Once again you were oblivious to how his face flushed as he replied with his own, eager nod. Instead all you could think of was how wonderful it would be to ride a train across the tracks, see the sights and feel that wonderful breeze. 

“Ah, and I got yer somethin’ as thanks fer keepin’ me train in top shape.” The Conductor added as he reached into the plastic bag from earlier and pulled out a small cactus. 

“I remember yer mentionin’ that yer liked deserts, so-” He started to explain before he was cut off by you quickly picking up the cactus to inspect it. 

“I love it, and that’s so sweet!” The cactus was so tiny and round and just… looked adorable! You smiled brightly at the Conductor and instinctively reached out to hug him. “Thank you!” 

His suit felt surprisingly soft and warm as you wrapped an arm around him for the hug, careful to keep the cactus away so neither of you got accidentally pricked. His feathers were pretty soft, too, and you just barely managed to restrain yourself from impulsively running a hand through them. 

“Yer… yer welcome.” He mumbled, still blushing furiously. 

“I need to find somewhere safe to put this so it doesn’t break. Oh! I also need to find a good spot to put it when I get home, or maybe I can keep it here and it can be our little mascot!” You rambled as you made your way over to the staff room, too distracted to remember to say goodbye to the flustered bird. 

The Conductor just stood there, maw open in surprise at the fact that you had hugged him.

Oh god, you hugged him. You actually hugged him. 

He was dazed, stunned, and frozen on the spot as the memory of you hugging him replayed itself over and over in his mind. How warm you were, how bright your smile was. 

It was nice to see you smile, see you so cheerful and happy. 

He wanted to see that smile again. 

As the Conductor stood in place, too surprised to move, the operations of the repair shop slowly resumed. Technicians and mechanics got back to their assigned vehicles, and even the music that had been quietly playing in the background increased in volume. Of course, this also meant that conversations resumed, including ones focused on the interaction that had just taken place. 

“So,” The Crow began, leaning down towards one of her coworkers and whispering to them. “Are we shipping them, or do we call it something else since there’s a train?”

The resulting laughter could easily be heard by you in the staff room, leaving you confused as to what they were laughing at, and somewhat concerned as to what might have happened. 

Oh well, you had to get ready for your date tomorrow with the Conductor anyways.                                     xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Maybe I'll write a follow up to this, maybe not~

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

[katierosefun]

author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

[miracle-sham]

Instead of Dead, Become Two Dragons in Red.

| {MaribatMarch2020 — Week 1, Day 5: Transformation} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| {Repost due to original post disappearing from the tags.} |

| Triggers/Warnings: Violence/Implied Violence, Animal Transformation, Explicit Language/Some Swearing, Implied/Referenced Character Death (but not really), Polyamory (not really a trigger/warning but if you don't like Polyamory then this isn't for you). |

| For Gotham vigilantes, rampaging magic-users always make for an interesting fight, that is of course, provided one doesn't get hit by any stray bolts of magic. However for Parisian heroes, it's just your typical Tuesday Akuma situation. |

| Word Count: 3232 |

==‹›==

| A/N: Hi! I'm not dead, sorry for how long I took to respond to comments, I got hit by a nasty cold then sinusitis so I lost basically all my Maribat March prep time thanks to that, so I just barely managed to finish this ficlet/oneshot for today, anyway I hope you guys enjoy, and if enough people enjoy it, I'll make a second part to this oneshot because I had to cut so much material and it'd be nice to be able to use it still. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or send me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==‹›==

Zzzzt-crackle-woosh, a purplish-black bolt of unstable magic flies through the air, just barely grazing passed Dragonbug's side as she flips across the gap between two buildings. Cheerfully, she calls out “Missed again!”

The villain, an amorphous black shadow with dripping molten gold eyes and donning a ruddy patchwork hooded robe (which suffice to say, looks suspiciously like a rip-off wizzrobe from the Legend of Zelda, that or a faceless Gregorian based cultist extra from a film or TV show), scowls furiously, “Oh fuck you! I'm trying my best here!” and blasts another bolt of purplish-black magic towards her.

Conveniently located on the roof she just landed on, is an air vent. She cartwheels behind it and manages to dodge the bolt by a good metre or so. “Well, your best sucks and so does your aim!”

The wizard-villain screeches in fury, “Well my aim wouldn't suck if you didn't keep moving like a goddamn Duracell bunny!”

Dragonbug snorts. “Yeah but firstly, I'm dragon and ladybird themed, not bunny-themed; the bunny theme's already taken anyway. And secondly, where's the fun in that?”

As soon as she says that, her earpiece crackles as Red Robin pipes up on the comms channel. “Ready to see some fireworks?”

“Oh, you bet!” She responds, all too gleefully.

There's a faint clink-woosh-woosh-woosh and out of the corner of her eye, Dragonbug sees a blur of a small round silver ball arcing through the air towards the wizard-villain who's quite stupidly standing in the same place. As the silver ball disappears from her view, she hears a clatter of clink-clink-clink followed by a bwoosh and a bright flash of white light. At this moment, Dragonbug is so glad the Miraculous suits protect against flashbangs of all things.

The wizard-villain screams and once the flash of light fades, Dragonbug can see that they've fallen to their knees, in the middle of the street.

Dragonbug frowns and eyes their form, then double-taps her comms. “Hey, is it me or does our rip-off wizzrobe-magic-cultist look somewhat unresponsive?”

Her earpiece crackles again as Red Robin answers, and really someone should give these things a maintenance check, the crackling can be so distracting. “Our wizzrobe-magic-cultist is looking pretty unresponsive to me too. It could be a trap though because I swear I didn't use one of my knockout flashbangs.”

She nods, despite the fact he can't see her; which upon realising this, she flushes red in embarrassment. After clearing her throat to compose herself, she tilts her head to the side. “That's concerning, unless our rip-off wizzrobe-magic-cultist is susceptible to flashes of light.” She pauses, frown deepening, “You don't think they've got epilepsy do you?”

There's a slight rustle before Red Robin responds, “No, that's not what an epileptic seizure looks like. Again this could be a trap, or they could just be stunned. Either way, we should hurry but be careful.”

“Right.” Dragonbug scurries over to the edge of the roof then flips her way down to the ground. As she lands, she just spots Red Robin vaulting across an overturned car. As he catches sight of her, she gives him a thumbs up, which he returns.

Dragonbug then nods to him and he nods back, silently communicating their plan. They both start to slowly approach the wizard-villain in a pincer movement, her to the left and him to the right.

Red Robin reaches to his bandoliers and whips out a pair of manacles. He skulks behind the wizard-villain and goes to handcuff when the wizard-villain starts cackling maniacally. The laughter is quickly followed by a forming orb of purplish-black light—the same light as the magic bolts.

Oh, fuck! Is Dragonbug's only thought as she immediately dives at Red Robin, who's started backing away; she uses herself to try and block him from the still-forming orb. Please let the Miraculous magic protect us both! She silently begs as the orb expands exponentially, unfortunately enveloping them both completely in a fraction of a second

The maniacal laughter is the last thing they both hear as they're violently launched backwards into an alleyway, and everything fades to black.

==‹›==

Kagami's lounging on the sofa at Tim's Nest and binging Netflix, when the red alert rings across all the comms units.

“Shit,” Oracle falters, “Red Robin and Dragonbug are down. Dragonbug's signature has disappeared from our systems and her comms aren't responding. All Red Robin's vitals are down, his suit isn't registering any more signs of life. But I'm still getting warnings that the villain they were fighting is still active, so everyone available needs to converge on Red Robin and Dragonbug's last known location.”

Fear immediately seizes Kagami's heart, no please, please don't be dead my loves. She double-taps her comms. “I'm suiting up as Kuro Neko, I'll be at the location in three.”

With that said, Kagami flings herself off the sofa. She glances around the room for Plagg who's halted in his eating of cheese and giving her a sad but cryptic look. Her eyes flicker to the window and he nods almost imperceptibly.

“Plagg, claws on.” There's a woosh as the poisonous green light washes over her, donning her in the Kuro Neko suit. She flexes her claws for a split second, tail whipping back and forth furiously, before darting over to the window and vaulting out of it.

As soon as she's out the window, Kuro Neko extends her baton down and begins pole-vaulting her way across the rooftops and over towards where her significant others were last.

==‹›==

When Dragonbug returns to consciousness, the first thing she notices is that she can't move, nor see, nor hear. But she can feel, and unfortunately that means she feels a strange painful pulsing throughout her entire body, as well as an excruciating aching sensation. The second thing she notices is that she's curled up on the ground and her head, or the world, is spinning somewhat. Anyway, I can safely say I'm not doing so good right about now, big ouch.

The first of her other senses to return is her hearing. Which immediately makes her hiss in pain from the sudden cacophony seemingly coming from somewhere above her? She pauses, then realises that something's not quite right, hey wait a minute, why'd my hiss sound so weird? Something's not right, although I suppose that's kinda obvious now, but still! Oh god, what if I'm dying, or I've been body switched, or—or—or—

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden scream of fury, ringing out from above. Which is good because it means Dragonbug doesn't get time to dwell on that particular string of anxious thoughts, but it's also bad because it's loud and causes her to whimper in pain from how loud it is.

“Where the fuck are they? What the fuck did you do to them?” A voice sounding very similar to Kagami yells out.

Wait a second, that doesn't make sense, Red Robin and I didn't call for backup, so why would Kagami suit up on her night off? Dragonbug muses to herself, brain immediately latching onto the next train of thoughts. As she muses, she slowly realises that she's starting to regain the feeling in her limbs. Which is another positive? However, the feel of said limbs, causes her mind to immediately blank and lose the train of thought. While her brain tries to figuratively perform an error message, she does finally manage to crack open her eyes, yay sight.

It's at that moment, Dragonbug's superhero experience/training kicks in. She quickly takes stock of her surroundings and quietly thinks to herself, oh fuck.

It looks like she's in a giant—no massive—version of Red Robin's suit. Have I been shrunk? She wonders for only a brief second as something moves, just out of the area of her view. She turns and squints at the movement. Not a second later, a roughly cat-sized red lizard shuffled into sight.

She squeaks in surprise, then has a minute of wait what because her squeak sounded weird and very concerningly not-human-like.

The red lizard tilts its head to the side and coos at her.

Dragonbug glares at the lizard and tries to back away. Emphasis on tries, because as she does so, she ends up tripping over herself? Confused and extremely concerned now, she glances down and oh.

What. The. Heckles. She slowly spins around, checking out her new form, because she's clearly no longer human. No, she's got a snout, scales, fur—well mane—, claws, a long snakelike body, and a tail. Spinning around, she catches sight of a gleaming piece of shiny silver metal. So does what anyone would in the same situation as her, and scuttles over to it to use it as a makeshift mirror.

The reflection that greets her is… frankly quite adorable but also she's now a tiny little lung/long dragon. Which to be fair, makes quite a bit of sense as she was using the dragon Miraculous and Longg is a lung dragon. Her scales are a pretty red with shimmery golden accents and her mane is a dark red-almost-black colour. Her eyes still have the golden yellow iris and sclera that the dragon Miraculous gives. And the rest of her is all done variation of the gold, brighter red, and darker red. So at least her colour palette doesn't clash. Okay, so the colour palette isn't the most pressing issue here, but also I don't know how to fix this or change back so y'know, I'd rather potentially be stuck like this permanently with a nice colour palette, than one that clashes. But also oh god please don't let this be permanent, there has to be a way to undo this!

In her panic, Marinette doesn't notice the red lizard slinking closer to her. As it reaches her, it gently prods her with one claw; startling her badly and causing her to squeak again, loudly.

The red lizard flinches back and Marinette realises that maybe, just maybe, that's not a random lizard. And that maybe the not-a-random-lizard is actually a drake. A European dragon that hasn't got wings. And Tim. Tim's surname is Drake. A coincidence? I think not! It's got to be Tim!

She stares at the probably-Tim dragon and makes a chirping noise because dragons don't have the same vocal cords as humans, so she can't exactly ask him if that's him or not. A minor nuisance, to say the least.

The red drake mimics her chirp. Then cautiously slinks up to her again.

This close, Marinette can see that she's probably around the size of a ferret, in comparison to him being roughly the same size as a cat.

He flops down half beside, half against her and makes a series of clicks and chirps. She can't help but to tense as he flops but as the seconds pass, she finds herself relaxing bit by bit until she's also flopped over.

Enjoying the peaceful impromptu not-quite-a-cuddle cuddle session with one of her significant others, Marinette does try to keep an ear out for any goings-on above, just in case. But all seems well.

That is until, not even three seconds later, the peacefulness is abruptly shattered by a cacophony of screams, yells, zaps, and loud bangs echoing shrilly from above, before ceasing just as abruptly as it started.

However, the unexpected cacophony still manages to cause Marinette to panic. She tenses with a low whine, hunching slightly, and holds her breath. Alert and anxiously vigilant, she can't help but survey the immediate vicinity again and again and again—looking for anything she missed initially or if anything's changed.

Tim shuffles and stumbles into a sitting position. He nudges her gently in the side of the neck with his snout. He makes a cooing noise, followed by a soft rumble—as if he were trying to imitate a cat's purr.

It takes a few seconds, but his actions start to help calm her down. She takes in a deep breath and mentally reassesses the situation. We've been turned into tiny dragons. We're inside-slash-underneath the Red Robin suit which is on the ground. Before we woke up like this, we were battling a magic-user villain who tricked us. We didn't get time to call in backup before we got hit but it sounds like backup arrived anyway. As far as we know, no one is aware of what happened to us or that we're in-slash-under the suit. We are currently safe for now.

As Marinette reaches the end of the reassessment, she feels much calmer. She makes a low trill-like-purr noise to signal to Tim that she's calmed down.

He sticks his tongue out in a blep and mimics the low trill.

Their second moment of calm is then also interrupted because apparently fate hates peace and calmness or something like that.

“I will ask you once more, Where. Are. They?” Kuro Neko questions.

There's a loud thump-snap, followed by the wheezing cackle of the Wizard-villain. “They're gone! Dead! Erased! Exterminated!” With its piece said, the wizard-villain continues to wheeze and cackle maniacally.

Marinette can't help but shiver in fear at the sound, barely able to squash the rising nausea.

A harsh snap sound echoes loudly in the street and the wizard-villain starts choking wetly.

Kuro Neko hisses something but the red robin suit muffles the words to the point of being indistinguishable.

The minutes drag by and the only sounds of note from above, are inaudible mutterings and the clattering of handcuffs and car doors. They must've handed the wizard-villain over to the police, Marinette thinks.

She's about to go nudge Tim to try and communicate that they probably need to go find somewhere to stash his suit and a place for them to hide until they can figure out how to turn back when a conversation between the vigilantes who arrived for backup catches her attention. Partly because of the topic, and partly because of how close the voices suddenly sound.

“They can't be dead, Red Robin's suit is still there.” Dick—or well more like Nightwing, since he probably arrived as backup as well—stresses.

“But Dragonbug an' her suit's gone. You'd think maybe that there'd be a little more left if just organic matter was destroyed.” Jas—Red Hood mutters, the vocal distorter in his helmet making his tone of voice sound strange.

Or maybe that's just a side effect of getting tiny-dragon-ified, thinks Marinette, things sounding stranger. Although I've not really noticed anything bar the distorted voice sounding weird.

“The Miraculous suits are made of magic, and anyway, Plagg says he can't feel Tikki or Longg's presence anywhere,” Kuro Neko admits, reluctantly. “If all living things in the vicinity of the orb were destroyed, then the Miraculous would have still been left behind.”

“And how d'you know that?” Red Hood asks, sounding both genuinely curious and mildly concerned.

There's a split second of almost icy silence before Kuro Neko responds with a clipped tone. “Akuma.”

“Ah, o'course.” Red Hood comments, voice getting closer again. “Hey, d'you think B will want to stick the Red Robin suit in a memorial case like what he did with my Robin suit?”

“Hood!” Nightwing exclaims in a horrified and almost scandalised tone of voice.

Red Hood snorts.

Marinette flinches, and so does Tim beside her, although probably not for the same reasons as her. I don't think I'll ever get used to how flippantly Red Hood jokes about his death. Even if most Parisians who've died in Akuma attacks use the same sort of gallows humour.

There's a few seconds of silence before someone grabs the Red Robin suit and yanks it upwards, causing Tim and Marinette to tumble out of it with a series of startled squeaks and clicks.

Red Hood is the first to respond to the situation, with an eloquent, “what the fuck.”

Marinette glances up and sees Kuro Neko holding the Red Robin suit and looking rather shell shocked, with Red Hood and Nightwing a few steps away.

“Oh, thank fuck they're alive.” Nightwing half mumbles, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation.

“My loves,” Kuro Neko murmurs leaning down and scooping up Marinette and Tim, “I'm so glad you're okay.”

They both squirm for a minute before relaxing into her arms.

Nightwing frowns. “We should bring them back to the cave, maybe call Zatanna and Wonder Woman.”

“To the cave then.” Kuro Neko nods, hugging Marinette and Tim carefully, making sure not to accidentally hurt or squish them.

Marinette looks up at her significant other and bleps. She then trills, content to be held for the journey back to the Batcave.

Tim however, wrinkles his nose and chirrups in protest, he squirms and tries to escape Kuro Neko's hold—probably wanting to return to the Nest and deal with this on his own instead.

Kuro Neko gives Tim a deadpan stare before expertly pinching the correct pressure point to temporarily paralyse him.

Red Hood gives her a quizzical stare.

“Akuma, as well as kwami.” She responds, sagely.

“Right…” He slowly mutters, shaking his head.

Marinette can't help but burst into laughter at that, only because she's currently a ferret-sized lung dragon, the laughter comes out as a stream of trills and chirps.

Red Hood narrows his eyes at Marinette. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, danger noodle.”

Marinette pouts, whilst internally promising herself that revenge will be swift and pasta themed.

==‹›==

When they finally arrive back at the Batcave. They're greeted by the sight of Batman and Robin at the Batcomputer.

Robin turns and sneers at them. “Of course, trust Drake to pull such an attention-grabbing stunt as this.”

Marinette immediately looks up from her snuggled up position in Kuro Nell's arms and hisses at Robin; Tim however, lets out a world-weary sigh.

“Robin.” Barks Batman, but the reprimand does nothing to quell Robin's hostility.

Fixing a glare at Robin, Kuro Neko starts to stroke Marinette's scales like an evil villain would stroke a cat (much to Marinette's delight). “Need I remind you, how you hesitated upon hearing Oracle inform us that Red Robin's suit ceased reading any signs of life.”

“That was not hesitation! I was merely preparing for Grayson or Fatgirl to become hysterical in their distress.” Retorts Robin, who then stalks away, scowling and red-faced.

Nightwing dithers between going after him or staying to check on Tim and Marinette.

Kuro Neko shakes her head. “Go after him, Marinette and Tim will be fine without you hovering like a mother hen.”

Nightwing flashes her a grateful smile and scampers after Robin.

Kuro Neko then heads over to the medical bay and gently plonks the two dragons onto a cot. “Batman, I believe we will need to do as Nightwing suggested earlier, and call Zatanna and Wonder Woman. As this is a magic situation and I am not as skilled or knowledgeable in regards to magic as my love is.”

“Hhrrm,” Batman growls, already calling up the Watchtower.

Kuro Neko smiles softly as she glances down at her significant others, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Let's hope they arrive soon, otherwise who knows what sort of trouble you two could get into.” She winks.

Marinette chirps, tail flicking side to side eagerly. Whilst Tim perks up slightly and tilts his head to the side, mind probably racing with hundreds of pranks and shenanigans they could pull off whilst in dragon form.

==‹›==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| @maribat-march2020 | | @vixen-uchiha |