#clawing at the walls and chewing the carpet you are so close

[rottmnt-residuum]

3 SILLY THEORIES COMING RIGHT UPPP

1 - This one is too on the nose I think but anyways- since Frankenstein’s monster is made of old body parts, the EPF might try using other mutant body parts or elements and kind of make Donnie their own kind of monster soldier thing. That’s it… that’s the whole thought process 💀

2 - Dr. Frankenstein created the monster for several reasons, but one of them was to try to create a new species. The EPF could be studying mutants to try to replicate the mutagen or something of the sort, to create mutants they can use. The baby mutants in your concept art could be one of their tries at it.

2.5 - The EPF could also be trying to mutate people who are near death so they can be useful again, as that was another one of Dr Frankenstein’s motives, to renew life.

3 - Mixing 1 & 2.5, they could lose Donnie somehow (See : BISHOP SHOVING HER HAND IN HIS BRAIN), not quite death but IG a kind of brain dead ish?? And as an attempt to bring him back to his former use, and also as an experiment to see if they can use this to their advantage, they use other mutants body parts or whatever they’ve studied ( maybe Mikey’s ninpo... hmm) to kind of Frankenstein him and bring him back.

YALL IM NOT GOOD THEORIZING- But congrats on one year of Residuum!! WOOO 🎉🎉

50%

90%

2.5. 0%

3. 25%

[novemberheart]

{overview} Your pack comes home

{warnings} fem reader, cursing, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, chapter story, short chapter, fighting, slight angst

Chapter 36 <- Chapter 37 -> Chapter 38

“John I”-

“Get in now,” he growled lowly. You swallowed, holding Vernie closer in comfort. Kyle stayed by the car opening the door for you. Both of them were being pelted by rain. You swore you could see steam coming off of them.

“Kyle,” you started. He nodded his head towards the car, urging you along. You crawled in, already shedding your backpack off. The car was warm, infested with the putrid smell of an angry alpha. The door shut behind you, Kyle and John getting in the front.

This wasn't the reunion you had expected.

You could probably say the same for them.

Your eyes locked on the rearview mirror, hoping to catch John’s gaze. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, the only sound being some labored breathing and rain snapping against the military-grade vehicle. You chewed your bottom lip, angling yourself towards Kyle.

You wanted to touch him.

You refrained.

The car came to another screeching halt, both men getting out. John opened the door for you this time. He refused to look at you. It was in the elevator when you started to crack. You resisted the urge to throw yourself at John, instead curling against the elevator wall.

“Go take a shower and get warm,” John commanded, opening the front door. Johnny and Simon were at the counter. You whimpered low in your throat, Johnny’s face curling At the sound. Simon was looking at you.

His eyes were completely unreadable beside the glimmer of dissatisfaction. He didn’t even seem angry. Maybe John was angry enough for the both of them.

You couldn’t bear it.

You latched onto Simon first, loud sobs wracking your body. He was stiff under you for a moment, before melting against you. It was biological.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbled, lips rough against your raw cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, your claws tearing the thick layers covering his shoulder. He pulled away, his hand resting against your stomach to keep distance between the two of you.

“Go shower. We’ll talk then,” he commanded. You sniffled, nodding in agreement. You picked Vernie off the floor heading towards the bathroom to get her dried off. You shedded your clothes, opening the bathroom door just enough for Vernie to slip back through. She immediately paddled over to Johnny who hoisted her up, his nose resting against her scruff.

She smelled like you.

The bathroom door opened while you were in the shower, Kyle’s arm darting in to drop off a few clothes before closing.

They couldn’t be that mad.

Maybe the fact you had been separated so long was working in your favor.

They were sitting on the couch when you came out. It was eerily quiet, all of them sitting up straight upon your arrival.

“I want you to start with your visit to the medical center,” John spoke, leading as always. You decided to settle on the floor, the carpet plush under your knees.

“You were looking at my chip?” You questioned.

“Of course. That’s why we got it,” He replied instantly.

You had them right where you wanted.

“You had time to do that but none to call me?” You shot back. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been marked. No effort is needed anymore,” you grumbled.

They didn’t like that.

Well, neither did you.

The hairs on your neck stood up at the sound of their low growls. It was like they did it unintentionally, immediately cutting themselves off as you shrunk back.

“Laswell had access to it,” Kyle spoke. “She’d keep us updated. We weren’t in a position to contact you,” Kyle explained. It felt condescending. Like all of them were confused as to the point you were trying to make.

“I don’t believe you,” you replied bluntly. “Before you were able to contact me every few days at least then all of a sudden that changed?” You questioned.

“Yes,” Simon interjected. “Calling you would lead to risks and put you in danger.”

“You could’ve sent a message through Laswell,” you argued.

“We couldn't,” Simon affirmed. “You're just going to have to understand that,” Simon barked, moving to a stand. Your face curled, your body following close behind. You rested your chin against your knees. John sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Why’d you go to the medical center?” John pressed. His voice was softer, resembling your alpha.

“I fell earlier this week. I thought it was okay but it started to look infected. I got it taken care of.”

They hated how monotone you sounded.

“Went by yourself?” Johnny spoke up. You knew he would have the biggest problem with you going through something like that alone.

“No one was here,” you spat back.

John stood up and Simon spun on his heels. Both of them opened their mouths to speak. John was able to get the words out faster.

“Stop actin’ like you weren't taken care of,” he growled. “Yes, you were alone, and I did everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen, but you were safe here. We made sure you had enough to last you for three times the amount of time we were supposed to be gone. It may not feel like it sometimes but everything we do is for you, even things you don't quite see,” he finished with a shaky breath.

“Really? So sitting in a hospital room alone, absolutely terrified of what's wrong with me is you taking care of me?”

“Course not,” he shot back. “I hate that you had to go through that and were without the people that are supposed to make things alright for you. But you understood what would happen if you joined this pack. I’ll put you first- no matter what- but it can't always be instant,” he spoke through a clenched jaw.

You could feel yourself softening by the minute.

You hated it.

You weren't ready to just get over it.

They had cut you off like it was nothing. Even now they sat before you showing very little signs of actually missing you. Maybe they were still angry at you for leaving the base.

“Can I go to bed now?” you asked quietly.

“No,” Simon responded. “The hell were you thinking leaving base?”

“Self sabotage?” you shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to get back at all of you for leaving me for so long. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually do something. Maybe I wanted to see if it would make you come home,” you choked, turning your head over your shoulder.

They remained silent.

This was unbearable. Your eyes red and swollen. The sting of lemons in the air. Your knotted hair.

All because of them.

And their fucking jobs.

“Should bloody ‘retire’ after this,” John growled, taking a large puff of his cigar. Nothing sounded better at the moment. Two weeks away from you hitting him like a truck. He could retire from the field and resign himself to paperwork. He’d get the two of you a house with some land for you and Vernie to run around. Take you into town for dates. Take you out on the lake and teach you how to fish. He’d grill every night and the two of you would end each night looking at the stars.

His radio going off snapped him out of his thoughts.

Simon groaned at his headache, popping another pill in his mouth. They were some form of suppressants. It was supposed to make being away from you easier. Those who had insisted they worked obviously didn't have an omega like you.

“Right behind you,” Simon nearly chuckled.

He wasn't quite ready to retire yet. He still had some fight in him. But he had underestimated just how much you had domesticated him. The thought of stretching out in a recliner with you propped on his lap was far more compelling than this.

The betas had been worse off. Johnny had been acting like a zombie since day four. His fingers are constantly rolling the bracelet you had made him between his fingers. Kyle was just prick. Growing more and more frustrated each time he was denied access to you, whether by phone or through tracking. At least they had Laswell.

They had to persevere.

The enemy was lurking around. Waiting for one slip up. One thing to hold over their head.

What better thing than you?

“Don’t do it again,” John chided coldly. You wiped your eyes against your shoulder, nodding.

“Can I go to bed now?” You repeated, even softer than before. “All of you are tired too,” you added, already moving to a stand.

Their brows furrowed as you made your way towards your door.

Your mattress was still in John’s room from your heat. There had been no reason to move it back.

Had you moved it back?

“Fat fucking chance,” Johnny growled, connecting the distance. “Just got back from a month of hell and I’d rather die than sleep alone,” he gruffed. “That’s the only way you could get me to sleep alone,” he added. His hands found your waist, easily lifting you up. A small moan escaped you at the contact, your body begrudgingly aching for his touch. He purred roughly, his nose buried in your neck. His hand twisted the knob to your room. You hadn’t moved anything back. John breathed a sigh of relief.

“What were you going to do? Sleep on the floor?” John questioned.

“I want to be by myself,” you breathed, your legs trying to touch the ground.

“You’ve been by yourself enough,” Kyle piqued up. “In that head of yours,” he murmured the last part. You were tossed on the bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. The pit in your stomach only grew, your face hiding itself in the pillows. Johnny flopped down next to you, Kyle following suit. John and Simon remained in the doorway, Simon disappearing towards his room.

You were sandwiched between the two betas, which was all you had wanted the past few weeks. Now you wanted anything else.

“Some forced proximity will do you good,” Kyle sighed, his arm tossed over you and Johnny. You remained silent and still, breathing in the familiar scent of your nest. It smelt like you. No traces of your pack embedded within its fibers. It wasn’t theirs anymore. It was yours.

It was yours.

They were infringing on your territory.

A nasty snarl escaped you, causing both betas to take a scoot back.

“Bonbon?” Johnny breathed. The sound could’ve rivaled an alphas. Their stomach churned, John shifting on his feet. The noise echoing in his brain, his alpha on fight mode. Something had frightened you. His eyes shrunk, looking for a threat.

The air escaping his lungs when he realized.

They were the threats.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth tangy from copper.

“Give ‘er space you two,” he commanded. “Now,” his voice urgent. The betas crawled out slowly, their eyes pleading- their eyes waiting. Waiting for you to whine and usher them back into bed. Pleading for you to seek comfort in them. Instead they got your back, your scent increasing in the air to drown out theirs. John grabbed them both by the arm, pulling them towards the door.

They felt a wave of relief when you stood up, face downcast as you headed towards the door. Johnny extended his arm, ready to meet you in the middle. That was quickly replaced with dread when it shut in their faces.

Hi friends! 👋See you in four days for chapter 38! As always lots of love 🧡

[rainforestakiie]

Vacation Away Part 02

hello. this is the second part for @inubaki! of their request!

'Adam and Lucifer get the same idea to take a break on earth. Adam in heaven and Lucifer in hell, both take on human form and embark to earth only to stumble in to one another. Whether or not Lucifer catches onto who Adam’s first is up to you while Adam remains clueless or in denial. They spend the weekend together and basically just begin falling in love without labels or restraint. But they are on a time limit.'

i really hope you like it inubaki! i am working super hard on it! i think there might acturally be one more part or so! i hope anyway!

please let me know if you like it or not!

Vacation Away (Adam/Lucifer goes on vacation on Earth) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

At the break of dawn, Lucifer sensed it. He had desperately hoped Charlie was jesting, but the truth was undeniable. Sleep had eluded him after she departed, but then again, Lucifer rarely succumbed to slumber. His mind was a relentless whirlwind, always racing, refusing to be stilled. Rather than cocooning himself in his luxurious quilts and pillows, he had perched atop his four-poster bed, awaiting the inevitable.

Despite his reluctance, a flicker of excitement fluttered within him. He couldn't suppress the surge of wonder that welled up. As the first light of dawn broke, he felt it.

His skin tingled. His fingers twitched, and a long-forgotten hum resonated from the nape of his neck, creeping up to his ears, blurring his vision. Lucifer inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and straightened, feeling his body lift from the bed. Smoky red magic coiled around him, his personal sigil glowing beneath his boot-clad hooves.

The air around him crackled and snapped like an egg's brittle shell. A haunting groan pierced his ears, and the atmosphere within the mansion shifted dramatically. Darkness swirled from all directions, and the sensation of being crushed, chewed, and then expelled clawed at him.

Lucifer's arms arched, his horns protruding from his head, while six majestic wings unfurled from his sides. His long, arrow-tipped tail lashed about behind him. A deep rumble emanated from his throat, and his fiery snake-like eyes flickered open. He was no longer in his dank, cold chamber within the desolate mansion.

He found himself in a quaint room adorned with sunflower wallpaper. The warm glow of the lamps highlighted the white ceiling, and the reddish-brown oak floors contrasted with a mustard yellow carpet. It was charming, yet utterly incongruous with the ritual altar beneath him. Six lit candles surrounded a bright-red painted pentagram directly below his hooves.

Lucifer's eyebrows raised as he surveyed his surroundings. Family photos adorned the walls, and flowers, numerous flowers in vases, filled the space. Bookshelves lined the room, exuding the essence of a cosy family home.

His gaze settled on the lone human before him. She was much older than he had anticipated, wrinkled and raisin-like. Small and hunched, she barely stood, relying on a sturdy walking stick for support.

Lucifer regarded her thoughtfully. Part of him wanted to believe the human seemed too...sweet to be entangled in demonic magic. Clad in a flowery oversized cardigan, long skirt, and a handkerchief, she appeared harmless. But Lucifer knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Humans were rarely as innocent as they seemed; they were corrupt, sick, and twisted. The old lady might look benign, but she wasn't. He could already smell the malevolence.

His stomach churned with revulsion. He harboured a deep-seated disdain for humanity. He detested scrutinising the fruits born of his actions too closely...

At first, they simply stared at one another. The little old woman, wrinkled and ancient, didn't utter a single word as she continued to gaze up at him. Lucifer hovered above her, his six wings awkwardly swaying up and down.

Lucifer waited and waited, and when it seemed she wasn't about to speak, he parted his lips. Only to find himself at a loss for words. How was he supposed to speak to humans again? It had been so long since he was summoned... he'd forgotten the intricacies of it.

There was supposed to be a contract between them, wasn't there? A give-and-take system. Retrieve and send. What had Charlie said again? She was doing this as a 'favor' to Bami. She was already in a contract with the radio demon and probably gained freedom by doing this. Which was insane to Lucifer, he couldn't see that grinning fool losing any soul, especially to help him, the King of Hell.

"I thought you'd be taller," the woman suddenly said.

Lucifer spluttered in surprise. Of all the things he suspected a human would say upon meeting the devil himself, that was the last thing he expected.

"Or less..." the little old lady began thoughtfully, "feminine."

Finally, Lucifer grunted. He curled his wings in, his horns dissolving back into his head, and landed on his feet before the woman. His lips twitched as he found himself practically looming over her. Ha! Finally! Someone shorter than him!

"That's rude," he grumbled dryly. "You should really watch your tone. I am the King of Hell, the—"

"The Devil, fallen angel, yes I know," she hummed, beginning to wobble around him. The old lady started blowing out the candles and gathering them up.

Lucifer watched her, feeling rather insulted. He had never been...so, what's the word? Disregarded? Rejected? Disappointed? Lucifer frowned deeply. The last time he was summoned, the silly humans had tripped over themselves trying to please him, offering anything they could. This little old lady was practically ignoring him as she cleaned up the summoning ritual altar. It left Lucifer standing awkwardly behind her, fidgeting with his claws and hooves. He felt rather put out, like a naughty child who had just been scolded.

How mortifying.

"If you are going to stand there like that, you can help me clean up the blood," the woman said, gesturing towards the mop beside him. "I had to sacrifice my finest goat for you. It was such a hassle."

Lucifer opened and then shut his mouth. He wanted to unleash his power, make the old raisin woman cower before him, but he didn't. His eyes flickered to the green mop and then back to the blood staining the wooden panels. It did look messy... humans generally do go through a lot to summon him.

"I could just snap my fingers and have it cleaned," he said, almost sulkily.

The woman scoffed. "Hard labour is good for the mind."

Once again, the devil wanted to snap in return. He had never been so disrespected by a living human before. The sinners, while displeased with him and how he had treated his role, were still fearful of him. But Lucifer found himself obeying anyway! Why he was doing what she wanted was beyond him, but he decided it was because he had nothing better to do.

His claws wrapped around the pole of the mop, and awkwardly, he began to wipe up the blood. He was supposed to be here for a break, for a vacation, not hard labour work. 

"What?" Lucifer exclaimed, noticing the woman watching him with a snort. "What, what am I doing wrong?"

The old, hunched woman made a sound from the back of her throat. "You’ve never done a day of work in your life, have you? I can tell."

Lucifer's eyes widened as he looked at his hands, then the mop, and back at the woman. His face contorted with frustration, confusion, and a hint of reflection. But just as his temper was about to boil over, he reined it in, settling for a scowl instead.

"My name is Dorothy," the old woman said once the room was cleaned up. "This is my inn, and you are a guest here. I won’t tolerate any shenanigans."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am? Seriously?"

"Of course I do. I’m not that naïve," she replied with a laugh. "Do you think I should be afraid of you? I’m nearing the end of my life. I’m probably going to Hell anyway, so what’s the worst that could happen?"

"I am the King of Hell," Lucifer said, staring down at the woman. "And since you’re in a contract with Bambi, you’re heading straight to my domain. I could make your afterlife ten times worse."

Dorothy shrugged. "You won’t be able to."

"What?" Lucifer asked, bewildered.

"My end of the bargain to summon you to Earth," she explained nonchalantly. "The demon holding my soul has agreed to take me once I become a ‘Sinner.’ I’m tired of life. I’ve lived long enough, and when it ends, I want that to be the end."

Lucifer stared in disbelief. So that was it? Alastor had agreed to end her life when she was reanimated as a Sinner? It was strange.

"Anyway, if you’re going to stay up here for a week, we need to draw up a contract," Dorothy said with an air of familiarity. It was a bit bewildering how she spoke, as if she had negotiated thousands of contracts before, which she probably had. "Contracts are about give and take. Your side of the deal will be to stay here."

Lucifer snorted and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I invented contracts. I know how they work. You don’t need to explain my own creation to me."

"Well, I wasn’t sure you did," Dorothy replied with a shrug. "You had this clueless expression on your face. Can’t blame a girl for assuming."

"You have some nerve to keep insulting me," Lucifer muttered darkly.

Dorothy laughed. "Nerve? My, you must be half blind too. I’m a woman, darling. I don’t have balls."

"I know that!" Lucifer snapped, his face flushing. "I just meant—never mind! Let’s get this over with. Clearly, you know better than I do!"

"Clearly I do," Dorothy said with a smirk. "My side of the contract is allowing you to stay on Earth for the week. Your side is simple. You will work for me at my florist. Only in the mornings, of course. I understand this is supposed to be a... vacation for the devil himself."

She laughed at the absurdity of it. "The devil himself needing a vacation—who would have thought?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I have my own problems to deal with," he hissed, his posture bristling like a cornered animal.

"Relax," Dorothy waved a dismissive hand. "We all have our secrets. Some are best kept buried, right?"

Lucifer puffed his cheeks out in frustration. "So, a florist?"

"That’s right," Dorothy confirmed. "I run a family-owned florist. My daughter usually helps out, but she’s a bit busy this week, so I need an extra pair of hands. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult for you, your Majesty," she said slyly, extending her wrinkled hand. "Do we have a deal?"

With a resigned sigh, Lucifer rolled his eyes and extended his clawed hand. He grasped hers, shaking it as golden light shimmered around their hands. Golden chains looped around their wrists, locking the contract into place until the end of the week, when Lucifer would return to Hell.

He supposed anything was better than Hell.

"Excellent!" Dorothy chimed brightly. "Let me show you to your room."

At least he had his own room…

“I would suggest altering your appearance. You definitely don’t look natural. Others will notice.” 

The moment he was left alone in the room that would be his for the week, Lucifer dropped onto the edge of the bed. His head fell into his claws, and his top hat tumbled onto the bed next to him. He couldn't believe what he was doing. A vacation? A break? What was Charlie even thinking?

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Heaven was more aggressive than ever before. Michael was involved now, when he hadn't been in the past. God knows what his younger brother would do. Everything was wrong, everything was upside down, and Charlie was left to deal with it all. It was just one week, but a lot could happen in that one week.

Lucifer rubbed his face, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks and eyes. He was tired, but he knew his brain would never allow him to settle enough to slumber. Lucifer tilted his head up, staring at the full-length mirror across from him. He shook off the alluring thoughts of having a mirror in such a position and stood up.

He stuck out on Earth. He looked too different from humans, didn't he? Dorothy was correct about that at least.

Inching towards the mirror, Lucifer leaned in close. His claws plucked at his shiny blonde hair, lightly twirling it around his claw. His face was cherry-shaped with bright red circles imprinted upon them, sharp teeth, and fiery eyes. Yeah. He definitely would stick out. He had no nose or ears. Too unhuman-like.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer snapped his fingers and felt his magic enclose around him. After a few seconds of his magic washing over his body, altering his form, Lucifer opened his eyes again to look upon himself.

He definitely looked different... more human-like.

His face was still cherry-shaped, with more human-like rosy cheeks and large sea-blue eyes. His hair was a strawberry blonde and appeared much more unkempt than the natural neat style he kept it in. Lucifer tilted his head, seeing a small curve of his fake nose and the ears poking out of the strawberry blonde curls. But most of all, his hands and feet were different. He had normal hands again, albeit fake, just a glamour hiding the monstrous claws he had. Lucifer's eyes trailed down to his boots, and with another snap of his fingers, his standard circus clothes vanished into a simple t-shirt and jeans. More human-like, he supposed, with sneakers instead of boots.

Lucifer kicked the sneakers off, raised a foot to touch it. It was a human foot. His magic had disguised his hoof into a foot.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his disguise pressing down on him. He looked back at the mirror, examining every detail of his new form. He was just a stranger now, a temporary guest in a quaint little inn. The King of Hell, reduced to this.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what this week might bring. Perhaps it was a chance to escape, to breathe, to be something other than the ruler of damnation. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came.

With another deep breath, Lucifer turned away from the mirror. He had a role to play, and for now, he would play it. He stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever this strange human world had in store for him.

“I’ll call my Samuel. I doubt humans would take it well if I call myself Lucifer…”

~#~

“Samuel, this is Graham. You’ll be working together in the mornings.”

Lucifer felt stiff all morning, his weariness heavier than ever. He hadn’t slept as he expected and dragged himself to the florist. He knew he was basically running late, but who cared? What would Dorothy do? He snorted at the thought as he shuffled out of the inn. The florist wasn’t hard to find; it was directly across from the inn.

Where was he? The air was sweet, reminiscent of Eden.

Flowers were everywhere.

Soon enough, Lucifer found himself inside the florist, standing in the doorway to the workshop. He squinted, staring at Dorothy and the young man beside her. His eyebrows knitted together as he observed the man, watching him squirm under his gaze. It sent a thrill through Lucifer, something he hadn’t expected and had almost forgotten how it felt.

His lips curled into a wide smile as he stepped toward the man. Lucifer’s eyes roved up and down the man’s body, taking in his rich red hair, caramel amber eyes, and pale skin. The freckles across his face were delightful, and Lucifer had the urge to reach up and count them.

What had Dorothy said his name was again?

Ah. Graham.

Graham? Lucifer’s smile widened, becoming somewhat predatory as he eyed the man. He was lovely. He appeared rather delicious. Lucifer had the urge to strip him, just to see if he had freckles in other places.

Lucifer slid a delicate pale hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Graham. I hope we can get along.”

Graham. The name sounded odd on his tongue. Lucifer felt a shiver run up his spine. Graham? Graham. It wasn’t right. It was a fake name. His mind swirled as he stared into the man’s amber eyes.

Oh!

This wasn’t Graham.

Cute disguise, he almost said but swallowed it back down. Immediately he felt lighter, more relieved as he gazed upon the form of Adam. It was one-hundred percent Adam. There was no denying it. Lucifer recognized the soft curl of the lips pinched crookedly and the way his eyebrows twitched, all signs Lucifer had only ever seen in Adam.

Adam stared at the hand and quickly wrapped his own around Lucifer’s. If Lucifer had been unsure before, he was definitely sure now. A spark of electricity coursed through their skin at the contact. Lucifer’s eyes were unmoving as he stared into Adam’s, checking to see if he noticed the spark.

It was disappointing to see not even a wince.

“Nice to meet you too,” Adam mumbled quietly. “Um… Samuel.”

Lucifer’s lips formed a smirk. “I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Lucifer's presence in the cosy, floral-scented workshop was both unsettling and exhilarating. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the vibrant blooms and adding an almost ethereal quality to the scene. Despite the brightness, an undercurrent of tension thrummed in the air.

Dorothy, seemingly oblivious to the charged atmosphere, busied herself with arranging flowers, her movements precise and practised. She glanced up occasionally, her eyes sharp and knowing, but she said nothing. The old woman’s silence spoke volumes, leaving Lucifer to navigate this strange encounter on his own.

Adam shifted nervously under Lucifer’s intense gaze. The young man’s discomfort was obvious, yet there was a familiarity in his eyes that made Lucifer’s heart race. A sick satisfaction churned inside him upon seeing he could still arise the same reaction after so many years. He knew this soul, this presence. It was like a melody long forgotten, now playing softly in the background of his mind.

Lucifer's thoughts raced as he studied Adam. His disguise was nearly perfect, but Lucifer saw through it. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way he held himself—it all screamed Adam.

The initial tension between them began to ease, replaced by a simmering curiosity. What was Adam doing here, in this quaint little florist shop, masquerading as someone else? And why had Dorothy involved him in this charade?

Lucifer’s mind was a whirlwind of questions, but he kept his composure. He couldn’t afford to reveal his hand too soon. Instead, he decided to play along, to see where this unexpected encounter would lead.

“Well, Graham,” Lucifer said, savouring the name on his tongue, “It looks like we’ll be working together. I hope you’re ready for an interesting week.”

Adam nodded, his eyes flickering with something that might have been recognition. “Yeah, I guess so. Just… don’t mess up the arrangements, okay?”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, melodious sound that seemed to fill the room. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a good eye for detail.”

As they began their tasks, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal glances at Adam, marvelling at the strange twist of fate that had brought them together. The week ahead promised to be anything but ordinary, and for the first time in a long while, Lucifer felt a spark of genuine anticipation.

The King of Hell, working in a florist shop, reconnecting with an old acquaintance under the guise of a simple human. The irony was delicious, and Lucifer intended to savour every moment of it.

For the first time in almost a century, Lucifer felt a bit better. 

~#~

Adam struggled to find the words to describe the feeling. He was undeniably uncomfortable. Working with Samuel was an overwhelming experience. The short, blonde man seemed to have his eyes glued to him, always watching, always staring. Even when they were supposed to be working together to create the bouquet, Samuel's intense gaze never wavered. Adam couldn't concentrate properly, and it was only his first shift volunteering. He didn't want to quit just because this guy was creeping him out, but Adam really wished Samuel would stop staring at him like that.

Suddenly, a gentle chime emanated from the small machine beside them, and Adam exhaled with relief as Samuel's intense blue eyes finally shifted to the device. A delicate, pale-pink piece of paper emerged, and Samuel plucked it with careful precision.

"Sunshine Happiness?" Samuel read aloud, his brows furrowing in perplexity. "An order for a Sunshine Happiness bouquet?"

"Oh, that's straightforward," Adam replied, his cheeks flushing crimson as Samuel's gaze returned to him. Adam took a deep breath, wiping his gloved hands on his apron and moving around the shorter blonde. "We need yellow tulips, orange gerbera daisies, and white lilies."

Like a loyal companion, Samuel followed closely. A shiver danced down Adam's spine as the strawberry-blonde man trailed behind him to the main florist area, bursting with a kaleidoscope of flowers. Adam couldn't help but find them breathtaking.

"What's wrong with your foot?" Samuel asked softly, his eyes lowered as he noticed Adam lightly dragging his left foot. "Did you hurt it?"

Surveying the blooms, Adam crouched by the bucket of yellow tulips. He lifted his right hand to pick one, but it slipped from his fingers. Adam grimaced and used his left hand instead.

"I had an accident," he said tersely. "It's personal."

"Oh." Samuel blinked slowly, his gaze now fixed on Adam's right hand. "What happened?"

Holding the tulip, Adam twirled it between his fingers and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Yes, these were the right ones. Carefully, he gathered more, cradling them in his left hand.

"I said it's personal," Adam grumbled. "Help me out. I can't use my right hand properly, so you'll need to carry the rest."

Samuel's face clouded with concern as he moved closer to Adam, bypassing the flower buckets. "What happened to your right hand?"

"Hold these," Adam instructed, thrusting the tulips into Samuel's arms. "Stop being nosy. We barely know each other."

Samuel seemed poised to protest, but Adam's raised eyebrow silenced him. With a shrug, Adam stepped around him and zeroed in on the bucket of orange gerbera daisies, moving to gather them too.

"Now we just need white lilies," he said, trying to steer the conversation away. "Each flower has a meaning. That's why it's called Sunshine Happiness. Yellow tulips signify cheerfulness and sunshine. Orange gerbera daisies represent happiness and friendship. White lilies symbolise purity and commitment."

Samuel continued to shadow Adam around the florist. "Is it nerve damage? How did it happen? Have you had it long?"

Adam's lips twitched in irritation. Samuel's persistent questions were grating on his nerves. He wanted to stomp away and shut himself off from the barrage of personal inquiries and that incessant stare.

"Ah, there are the white lilies," he breathed, eagerly moving to the bucket. The faster he gathered the flowers, the better. Adam's amber eyes flicked to the clock; it was nearly eleven, meaning he wouldn't have to endure Samuel's company much longer.

"You can't feel anything in your right hand?" Samuel continued to prattle. "How bad is it?"

"It's personal!" Adam snapped, standing with a few white lilies in his arm. He spun to face the shorter man, glaring down at him. "How many times do I have to say it's personal? Stop asking about it!"

Samuel's expression shifted oddly. Adam couldn't fathom what was wrong with him, but his curiosity was infuriating. Weren't people taught manners anymore?

"We hardly know each other, so back off." Adam sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I'm sorry. It's just a very personal and sensitive issue for me, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Blinking slowly, Samuel nodded, his head bowed. Adam felt a pang of guilt at Samuel's crestfallen expression, but he couldn't retract his words. His injury was a sore, private matter.

"Anyway, the Sunshine Happiness bouquet is meant to radiate joy and is perfect for celebrating happy occasions or brightening someone's day," Adam explained, turning sharply to return to the workstation. "It's our last bouquet for today. Let's hurry and finish it. I'm tired and just want to lie down."

Adam was indeed exhausted. He longed to lie down but also yearned to explore Lesse. He wanted to visit the Keukenhof Forest, the historic Ter Specko, and the Black Tulip Museum. He had plans, whether people believed him or not. There were places he wanted to see.

"Okay," Samuel mumbled quietly, sounding genuinely upset.

Adam sighed to himself.

~#~

Did he do that?

Lucifer swallowed thickly as he stared after Adam, watching him limp and drag his foot behind him. His chest ached, and his stomach churned. His lips pressed together, tilting downward with a small quiver. No matter what Lucifer did, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Adam's feet. Adam hadn't been limping before, had he? No, he definitely hadn't. Lucifer would have remembered. His heart pounded as he fiddled with the next bouquet order.  He'd been too pushy and Adam had snapped at him, Lucifer had tried to rein himself in. He knew he was being overbearing, but... but...

There was no excuse. Lucifer couldn't understand what was wrong with him. The sight of Adam struggling to walk, struggling to hold things with his right hand, sent his heart leaping into his throat in horror. The first and only thought that stuck was: I did that.

Lucifer did that.

Was that why Adam wasn't at the Heaven meetings? Is this why Michael and Sera seemed furious with him? Had... had Lucifer really gone too far? He hadn't meant to hurt Adam so badly. It was just supposed to be a scare tactic.

Lucifer bit back a grumble. Two full days had passed, and both days he had failed at striking up a meaningful conversation with Adam. It felt as though the man was purposely avoiding him, yet they were both 'volunteering' at the same time, in the same place!

He glanced at Adam again, making sure he wasn't about to run away this time.

"I'm sorry," he finally said after two long hours of silence. "I-I'm sorry... for yesterday. I was rude. Insensitive. I shouldn't have... done that."

Adam paused in arranging the pink and red tulips for their newest bouquet. He blinked in surprise and looked at Lucifer. "I knew you were being too quiet."

"I don't normally talk that much," Lucifer said weakly. "I just... I don't know. I was rude, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. I was rude too." Adam shrugged and sent him a half-smile. "So stop beating yourself up over it, okay, Samuel? It's fine."

Samuel?

Oh right. That was his fake name.

Lucifer nodded, and silence seeped between them once more. His eyes lowered, gazing at the mess of stems and leaves scattered before him. His fingers twitched, fiddling with one of the stems.

"Um, so... do you have any plans today?" he sheepishly asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

Adam clicked his tongue. "Yeah. I want to go to the Keukenhof Forest. It's the main reason I came all this way... I was supposed to go yesterday, but I was too tired."

"Oh." Lucifer deflated. There went his clever plan of spending more time with Adam. He had come to the realisation that the few hours they spent together weren't enough.

"You... you can come with me if you want?" Adam awkwardly suggested. “I mean, if you’ve got nothing else to do and if you even want to…”

"Yes!" Lucifer exclaimed before blushing and composing himself. "I mean, yes please. That would be great."

Adam eyed him before shrugging. Lucifer let out a sigh he didn't realise he'd been holding. At this rate, Adam would think he was a real weirdo...

Maybe he already did.

~#~

The forest was a verdant tapestry, rich with ancient oaks, stately beeches, and towering conifers, their intertwined branches forming a lush, emerald and golden canopy overhead. The forest floor was an artist's palette, blanketed in vibrant hues of bluebells, wild hyacinths, tulips, and buttercups, creating a magical mosaic of blues, purples, and yellows. Every conceivable flower found a home here, transforming the ground into a living, breathing masterpiece. Well-maintained paths wound gracefully through the trees, inviting visitors to lose themselves in the forest's serene and enchanting embrace.

On the west side, pink and purple tulips danced together in the breeze, creating mesmerising waves of color that captivated the eye. A sea of blue flowers extended from the south, merging seamlessly with patches of orange, white, and green blooms, a symphony of colours that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"It's so beautiful," Adam exhaled, his voice filled with awe. Gratitude swelled in his heart for Emily, who had insisted on this break. The sight before him was one of the most exquisite he had ever witnessed, warming his chest with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries.

The scene was Edenic, stirring memories of the paradise he once knew. As a warm summer breeze tousled their hair, Adam's gaze lingered on the blossoms. Woodpeckers rhythmically tapped the trees, rousing the dozing owls, while songbirds filled the air with their ceaseless melodies. Squirrels darted playfully among the branches, and rabbits ventured shyly from their burrows. Even a deer or two could be seen gracefully passing through.

"So beautiful," Samuel echoed softly, his blue eyes reflecting a quiet, almost pained admiration as he watched Adam. Every subtle shift in Adam's expression, every minute tremor, was absorbed by Samuel's attentive gaze.

Adam hummed, lost in wonder, his lips curling into a breathtaking smile. Sensing Samuel's intense stare, he turned, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry, questioning yet comfortable in the shared, profound moment.

Awkwardly, Samuel rubbed the back of his neck and tilted away. "It's pretty warm. Do you want ice cream? Let's get some ice cream!"

"Oh, um, okay." Adam watched the shorter man hurry toward the ice cream stand nearby, eyebrows raising further. Samuel was a peculiar human with a penchant for staring. In Adam's opinion, he stared far too much. Since their less-than-pleasant first meeting, Adam had noticed Samuel seeking opportunities to talk to him over the past two days. Adam had done his best to avoid it. He didn't know why. He didn't think Samuel had any malicious intentions; he was just curious. But something inside him kept whispering not to trust Samuel.

Still, Samuel looked so innocently cute. Adam couldn't decide. Perhaps it was his trust issues acting up again. But maybe he had been too harsh. Maybe Samuel was just like him—lonely and looking for a friend. Adam could handle that. It might even be nice to have a friend outside of Heaven and Hell.

"I don't know what flavour you'd like, but I got you a simple mini-chocolate. Can't go wrong with that!" Samuel gasped, returning with the cone. "Here!"

Startled when Samuel thrust the ice cream towards him, Adam's eyes widened as he took the cone bashfully. "O-Oh, you didn't need to buy me one. I was about to come over and get one myself."

The red flush that coloured Samuel's face was unexpectedly endearing, adding an extra layer of sweetness to his already charming demeanour. Adam found himself charmed by it, thinking it made Samuel look even more delightful.

"Um," Samuel stammered, shifting awkwardly, his social discomfort mirroring Adam's own. Maybe Samuel really was like him after all. "I wanted to. You invited me, so I figured it would—um, it would...even things out?"

Adam chuckled as Samuel winced at his own rambling. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

As if a switch had been flipped, the strawberry-blonde man’s face lit up with a radiant, blinding grin, showcasing his perfect teeth. Adam couldn’t help but return the smile, and together, they continued along the trail, savouring their ice cream—Adam with mint chocolate and Samuel with strawberry.

"So, um, why did you come to...Lesse?" Samuel asked quietly, wincing as if he had made a mistake. "I’m sorry if I’m prying. Feel free to tell me to shut up if you want."

Adam snorted, tilting his head and peering at Samuel from the corner of his eye. "I needed a break from the stress back home. Just needed some time away."

"Really?" Samuel straightened, looking up at Adam with newfound interest. "I-I mean, cool, me too! We have so much in common! We both have stress back home! Um..."

A laugh bubbled from Adam’s lips. "You’re so strange."

"Ha-ha-ha..." Samuel chuckled sheepishly, his forced smile melting into a genuine one as his shoulders relaxed. "I’m sorry. I’m not used to... this. Talking to people. I’m typically... alone.  I don’t, I’m not around people often."

"You don’t need to explain yourself," Adam said, his tone warm. "I get it. We all have our struggles. I’m not exactly a social butterfly myself. I’m probably just as bad at it."

A weak, uncertain chuckle escaped Samuel, his shoulders slumping slightly. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "A-Anyway, you were saying? Y-You needed time away from home? Bad stuff happened?"

"You could say that," Adam replied, glancing down at the ice cream in his left hand. It felt odd using his left hand now; he had always been right-handed. The switch felt awkward and forced. "A lot of things happened with my...family. My head wasn't in a great place to begin with, but then some drama happened, which just made everything worse."

Samuel's gaze softened as he watched Adam’s feet, noticing the way he dragged them slightly. He winced, sensing the weight of Adam's words. "Did... did it involve your accident?"

Adam was silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to his own feet before he released a deep sigh. "Yeah, there was a lot of family drama surrounding my accident. I needed to get away, hoping some distance might help me, you know, feel better."

"I see." Samuel bit his lower lip, his expression full of genuine concern.

It was odd but endearing—Samuel seemed more genuinely empathetic than anyone Adam had encountered in a long time. It was strange, considering how little Samuel knew him, yet he showed more compassion than he’d ever received from Heaven. Adam inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet fragrance of the surrounding flowers.

"What about you, Sammy?" Adam teased playfully, his smile widening as Samuel looked at him in surprise and a touch of confusion. "Why are you in Lesse? Did you travel all the way here just to see the blossoms too?"

Samuel seemed to ponder for a moment before arriving at a decision. It was oddly charming how he bit his lower lip and scrunched up his tiny nose in thought, a lock of strawberry-blonde hair falling across his forehead and brushing his delicate blue eyes.

"For similar reasons, I guess," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I... haven’t been in the best headspace either. I've been pretty sick—yeah, sick for a while now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making myself worse and…"

Adam's heart ached as he saw the pain etched on Samuel’s face.

"My daughter practically forced me out of the house," Samuel continued weakly. "She said it was unhealthy for me to stay locked inside like I had been. My... ex-wife left me about eight years ago, and it hit me hard. I was already sick before she left, but I guess she just got tired of watching me deteriorate."

"That's terrible," Adam said, disbelief coloring his voice. "She just left you because you were unwell?"

Samuel shrugged meekly, his gaze drifting to the beautiful flowers around them. "I guess she grew tired of trying to help me or something. She wasn’t the most loving person; in fact, she was pretty cold. One day, she just up and left. Sent me divorce papers the very next day."

Frowning deeply, Adam felt a surge of anger but managed to keep it in check. "I'm really sorry to hear that. If it means anything, I think it's her loss. She’ll regret it eventually. I believe you’re a better person than she ever was."

Samuel’s eyes widened in astonishment, as if Adam had handed him the moon. "You really think I'm a better person?"

"Well, yeah," Adam replied with a smile. "I think you are. Everyone makes mistakes and faces uncertainty. It’s the good people who try to make amends and move forward."

Samuel was quiet for a few moments, absorbing Adam’s words. His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the redness in his cheeks softening as he processed the compliment. After a few seconds, he looked up at Adam and gave him a real, genuine smile—a smile so warm and heartfelt that it nearly brought Adam to his knees. It was a smile Adam had only seen once before, centuries ago in Eden.

His heart skipped a beat, and Adam swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush warmer than they should.

“I really hope that someday I can become a…good person.” Samuel said warmly. 

“I’m sure you will be.”

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Marked (Soap / Reader)

CW: catholicism, incubus!Johnny, confessional, altar sex, cunillingus, vaginal sex, branding, blasphemy, claiming, mild dubcon

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.6k

I’m posting this at work, forgive any formatting errors

“Father, I think the devil is taunting me.”

The scent of warm mahogany filled my nose. I folded my hands in my lap, glancing down at my fingers. My nails were chewed down to bloody nubs.

“How so, my child?” A deep voice asked.

Slowly, my eyes raked up the door of the confession booth. He was grinning, sharp canines glinting in the candlelight. Thick horns protruded from his brow, curling in a way that framed his face.

“I told you, I’m not the devil. I’m Johnny.” The beast smirked.

He was dressed in silk and silver, drapes lying low on his waist. It was promiscuous, tempting even. A tail protruded from his coccyx, laying still at his side.

His smirk was telling. A sense of superiority, sureness even, lay behind it. He stepped forward, mahogany creaking under his bare feet. His long, claw-like fingernails gently traced up the side of my face.

His breath was hot as it wafted over my skin. A sinister smile slowly spread across his face. I glanced down at my lap, clenching the rosary beads woven through my fingers.

“I just know it, Father.” I answered with a sniffle.

Soft creaking echoed through the grate as the priest shifted in his seat. Through the dim lighting, I could just barely see his hand moving to stroke his bearded face. Fingers gripped my chin, turning my face back toward the creature.

“Now is the time to prove yourself. Dedicate time to your studies. Pray for guidance. I believe this is something that your faith will guide you through.”

-

Roaring thunder cracked overhead. The weathered shutters slammed against the church walls. An aching pain sparked in my knees as I kneel, clasped hands resting atop the pew before me.

Hot tears streamed down my flushed cheeks. My brows furrowed, lips mumbling soft prayers. I gripped the beads in my hand, leaving behind round indents in my skin.

The chapel stunk of incense and parchment. It was well into the early hours of the morning, nuns not yet stirring. Only a few burnt-down candles were left to light the pews. Streaks of pale moonlight shone through the stained glass windows, casting dim rainbows over the frayed carpet.

“I was sent here for a reason, you know.” The creature mumbled.

I raised my voice, muttering my prayers over the beast’s foul voice. My fingers clenched tighter around the beads.

“I know you’ve been questioning…”

“O my God, I firmly believe that Thou art one God, in three Divine Persons, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.” My voice was louder now, audible over the pouring rain.

“Your faiths begun to waver…”

“I believe that Thy Divine Son became man and died for our sin.” Even louder now. The wooden beads creaked beneath my grip.

“You’ve disobeyed, haven’t you?”

“-And that He will come to judge the living and the dead.” My teeth gritted, enamel squealing as I clenched my jaw tight.

“You’ve touched yourself…haven’t you?”

“I believe these and all the truths which the holy Catholic Church teaches, because Thou hast revealed them.” The string snapped between my fingers. The wooden beads clattered to the floor. I opened my eyes, glancing down at the mess of cedar beads dispersing atop the carpet.

His feverish hand wrapped around my neck, fingers pressing into my artery. I shuddered, eyelids fluttering closed. A deep laugh bellowed from his chest. His silver chains clinked with every movement.

“For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God,” he muttered. His fingers slowly trailed down the side of my neck. I could feel his heated breath on my skin.

“I’m not-”

“for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot,” He continued. His other hand rested on my hip. His touch felt warm, like that of a fireplace on a cold winter day. My tense muscles went lame under his touch, as if his fingertips could smooth the knots in my nerves.

His fingertips slipped underneath the soft cotton of my night robe. With a swift nudge, he eased the fabric off of my shoulder. I could feel his stubble brushing against the skin of my shoulder. His warm lips pressed against my bare neck.

A soft noise rose from my throat. My breath hitched, jaw clenching as I tried to swallow my feelings. This felt…right, especially for something as unholy as this. I turned my head away from the beast, lips pursing tight. He huffed, grabbing my face in his large hand. He slowly turned my head back to face him.

He had bright blue eyes, a color that rivaled the daytime sky. Deep pupils drew me into his gaze. I felt heat rush to my cheeks as he slowly skated his fingers down my neck.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said, leaning in closer. “You don’t have to submit…to God at least,” he chuckled. His long nails slipped beneath my collar. His eyes stayed fixed on mine as he nudged the fabric off of my shoulder.

“Why should something so wonderful be withheld?”

The cold air pricked my exposed skin. Goosebumps rose on both of my shoulders, bared openly to this unholy beast.

“Why should someone as breathtaking as you be denied something so…” he paused, tilting his head. Hot tears ran down my face. I sniffled, my bottom lip gently quivering. “It’s torture, isn’t it?”

His hands slid down my sides until they reached my belt. He gently tugged at the soft fabric, pulling it from the belt loops. The fabric limply hung off of my biceps, baring my body to this beast before me.

“How could they make you hate something so divine?” He reached out as if to touch my thigh, only pausing inches away from my trembling body. My breath came out in short, shallow pants, shoulders heaving with every shaky inhale. “I can show you what it means to feel heavenly.”

I hung my head low, tears falling into my lap. Slowly, I unclasped my hands, letting my arms fall to my sides. The cotton robe fell limply from my body, pooling on the ground beside me.

My core throbbed, aching with every passing second. Arousal pooled in my stomach like honey, dampening every one of my fluttering thoughts. I felt hopeless, abandoned, desperate. All of my nerves ached for stimulation in unison. I felt hollow, as if there was a pit deep inside of me that only this wretched mistake of god could fill.

“Touch me,” I said through heavy breaths, turning toward the beast.

I was expecting him to pounce on me in that instance, only to instead have his soft fingers tilt my chin up. He slowly leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. They were warm, inviting even. His breath tasted of pomegranates and aged mead. Every touch of his lips against mine felt intoxicating.

Warmth flooded my veins as he slowly trailed his thick fingers down my shoulders. I lurched forward as one of his claw-like nails raked down my spine. He tugged me into his toned chest, chuckling lowly as his fingers ran down my back.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, panting against his warm skin. I looped my arms around the back of his neck, keeping his chest flushed against my own.

“So pliable,” he hummed, fingers rubbing back up my spine. He cradled my head in his hands, tugging me away from his chest to gaze into my eyes. “You’d let me do anything to you, huh?”

I nodded, staring up at him through my tear soaked lashes. His thumb gently stroked my cheek, only to pull away as he rose to his feet. He glanced down at my kneeling body, extending a single clawed hand to me. I reached out, placing my hand in his. He held onto me with a tight grip, tugging me to my feet. The wood floors creaked as he took a step back, eyes not leaving me for a moment.

He led me down the aisle in some sort of unholy wedding march. With each step forward, my legs quivered, threatening to buckle under me. Thunder clapped overhead. A single flash of white light cast shadows over the room, only to disappear in a moment.

We stilled in front of the altar. Gentle candle light illuminated his face. He smirked, flashing a single sharp canine as he stepped forward. His hands skimmed down the sides of my body, pausing to feel every inch of me. When his warm palms reached my hips, he leaned forward, tugging me into his arms. I gasped, watching the floor disappear from beneath my feet as he lifted me.

The cold marble brought goose bumps to my skin as he lay me down on the altar. I propped myself up on my elbows, gaze fixated on the man between my bare thighs. His fingertips grazed my skin, gently nudging my knees further apart.

He leaned into me, lips pressing against my collarbone. A soft noise spilled from my throat as his kisses trailed down to my bare chest. His palms groped my flesh, squeezing my nipples between his fingertips.

And then he was kissing over my ribs, down my stomach. He hooked his legs underneath my thighs and dragged my hips off the altar. I laid back against the cool marble, eyelids fluttering closed as his lips trailed up my inner thigh, unbearably close, teasingly close to my core. He sunk his teeth into my flesh. Pinprick droplets of blood rose to the surface of my skin. I felt my nerves ignite, pulsing with electricity.

He ran his tongue up my core, pulling desperate noises from my chest. His tongue circled my clit, feverishly flicking against the bud. He groaned into my cunt, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. My thighs, laying atop his shoulders, quivered.

I wrapped my fingers around his horns, pulling him closer to my core. I tossed my head back against the hard marble. My lips parted, desperate noises rising from my heaving chest as he wrapped his lips around my clit.

Tension grew in my core, stretching across my limbs with every movement of his tongue, every suck against my flesh. My back arched up off of the altar, hips jutting forward against his face.

He chuckled, using his arm to hold me still as he ate me out. Tears welled in his eyes, not from sorrow, but from pleasure. My brows knitted, face contorting as he overpowered my body.

Flames licked at my skin, heated pleasure wrapping around my extremities like tendrils. I could feel my control slipping out of my hands. My hips, of their own accord, slowly rocked against his face. My body wanted more- needed more. It was intoxicating, wiping every little thought of doubt from my mind.

In an instant, my muscles went taut, as If my body was a marionette. His motions made my body contort, quiver as he pulled me to my orgasm. My lips parted in a silent scream, lungs stilling as I felt a wave of pleasure pour over me.

My skin tingled as each of my nerve endings ignited at once. Static rippled over my body as my climax soon descended. My sweaty chest heaved as I gasped for air. His soft lips pressed kisses against my heated skin, speaking soft praises against my thighs.

Slowly, he rose from between my legs, blue eyes meeting mine once again. He leaned forward, hastily pressing his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his tongue, molasses and musk. I crossed my ankles behind his back, tugging his hips close to mine. He groaned, rutting his stiff cock against my thigh.

“Are you sure you want to continue, my dear?” His sharpened teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “Those who are in the flesh cannot please God,” he recited. I gently cradled his face with my shaking hand, fingers brushing against his stubble.

“I don’t care about pleasing God. I care about pleasing you,” I spoke through unsteady breath, “Myself,” I continued. I watched as he let his silk drapery fall to the floor. My eyes latched onto his cock, stiff and leaking.

His thick fingers wrapped around his shaft. Slowly, he inched forward, pushing inside of me.

The stretch was too much. Tears welled in my eyes, running down my flushed face. His thumb rubbed quick circles into my clit, urging me to open up for him. He pressed his chest to mine, lips trailing across my neck.

“You can take it, can’t you?” He cooed. “So good for me.”

He sunk another inch inside of me, bullying his cock into me. My breath hitched as I felt the drag of his cock against my nerve endings. Pleasure ignited in my hips, melding with the stretch of his length.

I whined as he pushed forward, finally bottoming out. I felt unbearably full, stretched to my limits. As if any second I might burst. His sharp nail traced along my stomach, along the outline of a faint bulge in my stomach.

“Feel me?” He asked, pushing down on my stomach. I whined, pursing my lips in a thin line. “Deep inside of you.”

I nodded, whimpering as he shallowly thrusted his hips. Another crack of thunder sounded. His hands groped my thighs, my stomach, anything he could reach. His brows furrowed as his thrusts grew deeper and deeper.

The slap of his hips against mine echoed through the empty chapel. Our crescendoing voices melded together in an unholy symphony.

Glowing sigils appeared on my body. Starting over my heart and following my spine down to my pelvis. The candle flames flickered before blowing out, dipping the both of us into darkness.

Another flash of lighting illuminated our frames for only a moment. He grunted, thrusting deeper into me. The mahogany altar creaked beneath us, squeaking in agony with every thrust.

He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to my lips. I whined against his mouth, tugging him down by his horns.

“So good-” he sputtered, “You feel so good-”

My only response was incoherent babbles and lust soaked whimpers. His pace grew faster, voice contorting into demonic grunts. Another clap of lightning boomed overhead.

The aureate light emitting from the sigils only grew. This only seemed to spur his fervor even more. His lips met my neck. Messy kisses melded into frenzied bites and licks. Purple marks blossomed on my skin, marred by this beast’s tongue.

I could feel myself being subsumed by pleasure. My body tensed, as if bracing for the incoming flood of stimulation. My breath grew shallow and hastened. Sweat oozed from my pores. My voice grew higher, dripping with honeyed lust. His name tasted sweet on my tongue.

I felt intoxicated, breathing in his musk, taking in every inch of him. Intoxicated, with every drag of his cock against my walls. Intoxicated, every time his teeth broke skin.

My vision grew hazy, unfocused, as my orgasm neared. My ears rang, as if demonic church bells were sounding above. Heat ignited in my extremities, setting alight every one of my nerve endings. It burned deliciously, singing my skin.

With a grunt, the beast stilled, flooding me with warmth. The sigils on my stomach dimmed, fading into thick scar tissue. The beast glanced down at my abdomen with a smirk, cock twitching inside me as he came.

He quickly pulled out, watching as his spend ran down my thighs. I’d been branded, marked for damnation. Defiled by this demonic entity. Grinning, I reached up, tugging him forward by one of his horns.

“Give me another.”

Masterlist

[eyndr-stories]

I Think I Smell A Rat (FNAF SB fanfic) C2 - Maybe Just ONE Game

In Summary:

Being a robotic repair rat who lives in the walls of the pizza-plex is a pretty great gig, all things considered! You fix the wires instead of chew them, and you get into tight spaces those silly humans can't reach and fix things up behind the scenes. You do your little tasks diligently, and all is well. That is, until one night when you realize all of your other repair rat friends have gone missing, and almost all of those animatronics outside the walls are acting strange... You aren't sure what it is that needs fixing, but by golly you'll fix it! You just might need a little help along the way...

Things To Know:

Not a lot of warnings for this one! There is some peril and danger, damage to robots, and damage to. Uh, whatever the heck Afton is at this point??

Reader insert! You're a little rat shaped robot a handful of inches long. Lots of borrower-related themes in here

Daycare attendant centered, though the other animatronics make brief appearances. You hang out with Sun in the first half of the story and Moon in the second half!

A little over 17000 words in total, just a lil guy! 5 chapters, they're all pretty short

I somehow managed not to swear once in the entire story, aw hell yeah! Wait-

Ao3 link: Here!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

C2 - Maybe Just ONE Game

     It wasn’t long before you and Sun ran into trouble. You’d just made your way back out of the walls, having turned the lights on to the corridor ahead, when you heard Sun cheerfully greet someone else.

     Sun bounced excitedly. “Roxanne Wolf!! Wow wow it’s so nice to see you! You hardly ever visit the daycare except for birthdays. How are you?!”

     Roxanne stalked across the funky carpet floor. Her walking animation was off, slow and jerky, like she was having trouble pathfinding properly. You stood cautiously next to the port leading back into the walls. Neither bot had seen you emerge just yet.

     Sun noticed Roxy’s strange walk as well. “Uh oh, are you feeling okay??”

     Roxy didn’t reply, but her gaze fixed intently on Sun. She lifted her arms, as if to grab Sun, now only a few paces away. Those claws of hers looked menacing, but you knew they were just fancy guitar picks. All the animatronics had them except for Sun, so they could pluck the strings of their instruments despite their massive metal fingers.

     “Oh, do you want a hug?! I’d love a hug!! We can hug!” Sun excitedly threw his arms out for a big hug.

     Roxy raised a hand, winding back as if to strike. You realized that striking Sun was actually exactly what she meant to do, and you panicked.

     “SUN.” You darted forwards, waving your flashing tail.

     This got the attention of both bots. Roxy paused a moment away from heaving a clawed hand down at Sun to fix her intimidating gaze on you instead.

     “RUN,” you quickly told Sun, already darting back towards the wall.

     Sun seemed to have realized that Roxy was not actually about to give him a hug. “This is NOT how we treat our friends, Roxy!!” Sun yelled as he ran.

     You were very suddenly plucked clean off the ground. After a moment of terror wondering if Roxy had been closer behind you than you’d realized, you noticed between the pathfinding warnings that the metal fingers around you were yellow, and did not have any claws. They were also cradling you very carefully. After a moment of disorientation and hurriedly dismissing warnings, you poked your head out between Sun’s fingers to see Sun had made it through the door into the next corridor and was trying to close the door behind him via the control panel next to the door.

     Roxy made it to the door a moment later. She punched the control panel on her side of the door, and the door slid back open.

     Sun immediately hit the controls again, and the door slid closed. Roxy and Sun went back and forth, and after a moment you remembered why Roxy couldn’t just jump through. All the bots were programmed to wait until a door was completely open to step through, as a safety feature. Sun and Roxy were locked in a cycle of opening and closing the door, Roxy unable to get through and Sun unable to move away without letting the door open.

     You quickly wiggled out of Sun’s hand and scurried across his arm. Your little claws clung very well to the fabric of Sun’s pants as you climbed down to the ground.

     “Tiny friend, where are you going??” Sun asked.

     “Closing the door,” you quickly flashed before darting into the walls.

     You made your way up to the door controls. Once you reached them, you paused, realizing this wouldn’t be quite as easy as you’d thought. There were active signals constantly transmitting back and forth as Sun and Roxy opened and closed the door. In order to rewire the door shut, you’d need to time your move carefully. Your little paws were insulated, so it wasn’t a shock you were worried about. But if the mechanism detected an active charge going through a severed wire before you could connect it again, the whole thing would shut off as a safety feature to prevent sparks and a potential fire, and the door would be stuck open by default, leaving Sun to face Roxy with no easy escape.

     You timed it out carefully. You had an opening a few milliseconds long between signals, so long as Sun and Roxy kept up the same pattern. You were fast, but you weren’t sure if you were that fast. You’d never had to reconnect a wire under a time limit before.

     Focusing on your internal timer, you set your teeth on the wires you needed to sever and waited…

     Now.

     Snip! And then an instant motion of paws twisting as fast as you could make them go, and then…

     Silence.

     You weren’t sure if the controls didn’t have any more signals going through it because the other bots had stopped pressing the buttons or because you hadn’t been quick enough. The path back out of the walls was much longer than you remembered it being.

     You leapt through the port and back into the corridor where you’d left Sun.

     “Tiny friend!!” Sun knelt down in front of you, his rays swaying happily.

     The door was closed. Roxy was stuck on the other side. You’d done it.

     You collapsed with relief, flopping over on the ground.

     "You did such a good job!! Thank you so much." Sun reached out and gave your little head a pat. "I'm not sure what's gotten into our friend Roxy, she's not usually… well. She can be mean sometimes, but she would NEVER hit anyone!!"

     "Something is wrong…" You were beginning to worry about your fellow robotic rat friends. Maybe Roxy or even another bot got to them… but why would nearly all of them be missing?? At the least there would be total system shutdown pings on the network and a last known location from the downed rats. But the network was still quiet.

     Sun hugged his knees and tapped his pointy shoes on the ground. His sun rays slowly retracted into his head. "What do you think is making Roxy feel sick? That's it, right? She's just not feeling herself! Usually she loves to talk, but she didn't say a thing earlier! If she's sick, that means you or someone else could fix her, right?? You can fix things, you're really good at fixing things!"

     Your reply was hesitant, somewhat quiet. Not in volume of course, but your tail light was a bit dimmer than normal as you blinked out a reply. "I don’t know how to fix Roxy. I do not even know what is wrong with her. Repair rats were not designed to interact with you animatronics, so all I know is what I have learned from observing over the years."

     "Oh." Sun's face plate turned briefly to the door. After a moment, he looked back down at you. "You would help fix her if you could, right?"

     You replied honestly. "Yes. If I knew what to do and was capable of doing it, I would. It’s my job to repair, my nature."

     Sun nodded. "Would you help me figure out how to help Roxy? After we find your friends, of course!" Sun suddenly straightened. "Oh!! Do you think whatever made Roxy sick also made your friends sick??"

     You considered that for a moment. If it was some kind of bug or even a virus making Roxy act the way she had, you supposed anyone connected to the main network could have accidentally been infected. Every bot in the building, even the wet floor sign bots, had to connect to the main network at least every once in a while for system updates. "I think it is possible. If it was a virus, why are you and I not affected? Are the other animatronics affected as well, or just Roxy? More information will likely lead to a solution."

     "Yeah! So how do we learn more?? If the others are acting like Roxy too, it might be dangerous to ask them…"

     "Maybe we can observe from far away. I'm good at that."

     "Good idea! We can play pretend that we're spies on a secret undercover mission!!" Sun swung his arms around, doing a few karate chops.

     "You can pretend if you want. I will just be me."

     "Aww, but it would be fuuuuun!!" Sun slumped over dramatically, spinning his face at you. "You don't like to play, do you?"

     "We do not have time to play." You realized then that you and Sun had been sitting around for five whole minutes, wasting time chatting. You started to scurry along, waving your tail at Sun to follow.

     Sun sprang to his feet and easily kept pace with you. "We can play after the work is all done, right?? Once we find and fix all the friends and everything is okay?"

     "Fine, fine. We can play later if you really want to so badly."

     "YAY!!!" Sun cartwheeled past you, ending with a happy little hop. Well, as ‘little’ as a hop could be when the climax of the jump was more than thrice as tall as you. He crouched back down as you caught up and offered his hands out to you. "We'll have SO much fun, you'll see! We can play all kinds of games, you can even invite all your friends!!"

     You climbed up into Sun's hands and imagined for a moment close to a hundred repair rats all sitting around a table together with Sun. The thought was amusing, even if you couldn't imagine what kind of game Sun would have that would host so many players. You couldn't really imagine any games at all, actually.

     "I have never played a game before," you told Sun.

     Sun stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at you. "Never?? Not ever?! Not even ONE game?!?"

     "No."

     "You- you don't ever have any fun?!"

     "No."

     You'd never been at all adept at understanding the expressions of the animatronics or the humans, and Sun's rigid unanimated face plate didn't emote at all anyways. However, Sun managed to make it transparently clear regardless that he was upset nearly to the point of tears. He was shaking and hunched over, and his rays had retracted all the way into his head, and he was making the most pitiful little sounds.

     Sun straightened suddenly, still managing not to jostle you. "That simply will NOT stand. You can't just work work work all the time and never play! Gosh, how horrible!! I can't believe you've NEVER EVER played before even once!! We should play a game while we look, what do you say??"

     "No time." You weren't sure why this had Sun so worked up. You needed to keep moving, there was work to be done, things to fix.

     "We can play as we walk! Please please please?!"

     Sun sounded like he might collapse in despair if you declined, and you sort of needed him to get around hastily. You begrudgingly agreed.

     "Just ONE game. And we have to keep moving."

     "Okay!!" Sun did another happy little hop and immediately started moving again, long strides carrying the two of you down the curving corridor. "Oh boy, your first game!! Okay okay, so this game is called I-Spy! It's easy, all you have to do is pick something you can see."

     "Okay. I pick that plastic potted plant over there." You wiggled your nose in the direction of a decorative plant to Sun's left.

     Sun giggled and shook his head. "No no, the game is that I have to guess what you've picked, silly! You can't tell me what it is unless I guess right!" Sun elaborated, explaining that the guesser would ask if items in the area, matching a brief description, were the item in question. "You can guess first, okay? Are you ready to give it a try?"

     "Sure." You couldn't see how this 'game' could possibly be considered fun, but if it kept Sun moving, you would indulge him.

     "Okay!! I spy with my little eye… something… red!" Sun declared.

     You gazed around halfheartedly, looking down the corridor for red items. "Is it the red squares on the carpet?"

     "Nope! Good guess, try again!"

     "Is it… that vending machine?" you tried.

     "No, not quite!"

     You looked around again. What else was red around here? Your eyes were very good with color, even in low lighting, so that you could easily tell different wires apart. Finally, you spotted a poster near the end of the hall, depicting a few of the main animatronic characters performing together. The background of the poster was a bright red flowing curtain.

     "Is it that poster at the end of the hall?"

     "Yeah!! You got it! Wow, good job!" Sun cheered.

     "I got it!" You held your head a little higher. You looked back at Sun, who was bouncing with every step as his sun rays swayed back and forth. "…Alright. I guess games are… nice."

     Sun laughed. "They are!! Do you want to keep playing?"

     "Yes."

     You played I-Spy with Sun for a while. It was a very convenient game, since you were already keeping an eye out for your friends anyways. It even had the added bonus of helping you get more accustomed to using your eyes. You were, admittedly, having fun. You were even a little annoyed when you had to stop in order to get into the walls and turn on the lights for the next area. You had no idea that playing games and having fun could be so… so… you couldn't even describe it.

     No wonder Sun had been so insistent on the games this whole time. Playing games was fun. Having fun made you happy. Oh- that's what it was. Happy, you were happy.

     You weren't sure if you'd ever been happy before. Satisfied, maybe. You liked doing a good job and getting your tasks done and fixing things, that all felt good. Like a circuit board with all its neat little pieces lined up just right, everything wired up correctly. Happy was something close, but still almost entirely different. It was more like when a damaged rat finally returned to the nest after a long repair.

     You couldn't complain. Of all the things you'd felt so far, this was considerably more enjoyable than some other things. Like physical damage, or buggy updates, the out of bounds error, or not being able to fix something and being unable to dismiss the task until it was fixed.

     Sun paused, and you brought your full attention back to him. He was staring at a poster advertising the daycare, the hours of operation listed at the bottom.

     "I hope we can get everything sorted soon. I know we've only been gone for an hour and a half, but I miss the daycare. I don't usually like to leave. Everything makes sense, and it feels cozy, I belong there! But this is really important." Sun sighed and slowly carried on.

     You studied Sun for a moment. You felt the same way about being in the walls, and your charging nest. You were designed for the walls, built for that specific environment. Sun was built for the daycare.

     You waved your tail, bringing Sun's attention back to you. "Sun. Thank you for helping me."

     "Of course, tiny friend!" Sun carefully gave you a pat with a thumb.

     You and Sun carried on. You'd turned on half the lights in the whole building at this point, and hadn't found any more answers.

     Your luck finally changed however when you made it to the food court.

     You'd been avoiding the area because the light controls were harder to get to and a bit more complicated. The whole space was quite large, and you'd have to leave Sun for a while in order to get to all the controls. There were three entire floors to activate the lights for, and that meant a lot of climbing for you. Not that you minded, you'd just been hoping you wouldn't have to spend so much time running around fixing lighting controls while your friends were all possibly in danger somewhere.

     After figuring out all the lights for the food court, you quickly made your way back to Sun. You could tell he’d gotten worried by how long you’d been gone, and he was especially relieved to see you again.

     Sun lifted the rolling shutter gate and carried you through into the food court. You were up on the second floor, surrounded by directories and benches and stroller corrals and vending machines. Sun crept up to the railing, whispering about sneaky spies.

     You and Sun peered down into the brightly lit food court together.

     There were several animatronics hanging out on the main floor. You could see Monty and Chica aimlessly ambling around the open crowd space in front of the big stage where they usually put on performances. Freddy was stalking slowly between rows of tables, occasionally bumping into the edge of a chair or table. You could see evidence of the gang’s poor pathfinding everywhere- toppled trashcans and downed fake plants.

     It seemed Roxy was still wandering around somewhere in the halls behind you, since she seemed to be missing. You weren’t sure if you would prefer to have them all in one place or not.

     Sun took a few steps back away from the rail. He crouched down and held you up closer to his face so he could whisper to you. “They all look like how Roxy looked. If everyone is sick, that means it wasn’t just a bug with Roxy…”

     “It has to be some kind of virus. It must be in the main network if they all have it,” you reasoned.

     “Oh dear, oh no.” Sun grabbed one of his rays with his free hand, pulling at it with worry. “This is no good. I’m glad I don’t have it too, I have to help you fix this!”

     You still had no idea how to fix whatever this was. You had the beginnings of an idea, but you weren’t sure how good of a plan it was.

     “I bet I don’t have it yet because I’m not on the network!! I’ve been in safe mode this whole time. I don’t like to connect to the network unless I have to, it’s too noisy!” Sun shook his head.

     “Maybe I should put myself in safe mode too, just in case.” You had no plans to connect to the main network anytime soon, but you figured you should stay on the safe side anyways. You would be disconnected from the sub-network all the rats used to communicate too, but there was no one on that network anyways. You’d been checking every five minutes, to no avail.

     “Good idea. So what do we do?? How can we fix everyone?” Sun asked.

     “I have an idea, but I do not know how well it will work.”

     “I’m sure it’s a great idea!! Besides, I don’t have any ideas at all.”

     You sat back on your hind legs as you explained your idea, folding your two front paws together. Sun patiently and quietly watched your tail light blink out your plan.

     “I do not think it is safe for either of us to contact the others directly. So in order to help them without being near them, my idea is to modify the charging stations around the building to set them to safe mode automatically once they enter for a charge. I can do the same with the charging nests in the walls for the other rats.”

     “Ohhh that’s really smart!! Yeah, that’s a great plan, lets do that!” Sun excitedly shot to his feet. “I know where all the charging stations are! I’ll take you to the nearest one first!”

     Sun was already moving before he’d even finished talking. You arrived in no time at all; the nearest station was just around the corner, by the entrance to the Roxy Raceway attraction.

     “Can you set me on top of the station, please?” you asked.

     Sun happily obliged, stretching his arm up high enough for you to climb atop the cylindrical chamber. You took a moment to marvel at the convenience of having an extremely tall friend- it would have taken you ages to climb up on your own. You dipped your tail back over the edge and flashed a thanks to Sun.

     You heard Sun reply immediately. “You’re welcome, tiny friend!! Good luck!”

     You turned your focus to the task at hand.

     Changing the controls to set a charging animatronic to safe mode turned out to be more involved than you’d hoped. Not impossible, just difficult. There were a lot of safety features in place to keep anyone from tampering with the charging stations.

     Sun shuffled around aimlessly while he waited, doing quiet gymnastics and poking at the surrounding decor.

     You were almost finished, and had paused to glance up as Sun did a particularly impressive backwards flip, when you noticed motion behind Sun, on the stairs leading up from the main floor to the second.

     “SUN.” You waved your tail frantically, getting Sun’s attention. “HIDE.”

     Sun froze for a panicked moment, then quickly swiveled his head around, searching for a hiding spot. He dropped to the floor and quickly wiggled his way under a bench, and not a moment too soon.

     Monty reached the second floor and turned to face you. You quickly scurried back away from the edge of the charging station. You could hear Monty’s heavy steps clomping closer, though you were pretty sure he hadn’t seen you. Monty must be coming to charge.

     Moving quickly, you rushed to finished your work. You could use this as a test of sorts, to be sure putting the animatronics in safe mode worked before you and Sun wasted a lot of time and effort going around the entire building to alter as many charging stations as possible.

     You finished your work in the nick of time. The door of the charging station slid shut, and you could hear the chamber whir to life. The door lock activated, and Monty entered rest mode.

     Sun tentatively poked his head out from under the bench.

     “Safe,” you assured.

     Sun shimmied his way back out from under the bench. “That was a close call!” Sun wiped imaginary sweat from his brow and angled his face plate up towards you. “Did you do it?? Is it all fixed?”

     You bobbed your head in the affirmative. “Yes, it should work. I think we should wait around and see if Monty is better.”

     “Good idea! Then we’ll know if it made him feel better or not!” Sun reached up and offered you a hand. You hopped down into his hand.

     Sun cupped you close to his chest and eyed the charging station. “It usually only takes me five to ten minutes to complete a charge. Do you think the glamrocks charge just as fast? Or maybe even faster??”

     “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

     You and Sun waited patiently for the first minute, then impatiently for the next four.

     "…He's still not done charging." Sun heaved a sigh and sat down heavily on the bench, hands still carefully cupped around you. He threw his face plate back dramatically and kicked his feet out.

     "I bet it's ten minutes. Shouldn't be too much longer now, hopefully." You padded around impatiently in Sun's hands.

  ��  "We haven't seen any of your friends around. Where do you think they could be?" Sun wondered.

     "I don't know… I'm worried." You half expected to see someone every time you went back into the walls to fix the lights, but the walls were strangely empty. Even if they had been infected by this virus that seemed to have infected most of the animatronics, surely they'd still at least be wandering around…?

     "Aw, I'm sure we'll find them! Maybe they're all hanging out together somewhere? Maybe there was a really really big repair that needed doing somewhere and we just haven't found it yet!"

     "Yeah, maybe." You pat a paw against Sun's palm appreciatively. "Thanks, Sun. And thank you again for helping me."

     "Of course!! And thank YOU for helping ME with my friends too!" Sun nodded towards the charging station.

     As if on cue, the charging station door suddenly hissed open, causing both you and Sun to start. Sun leapt to his feet as Monty stumbled out of the station.

     "Monty!! Montgomery Gator, hi hi! How are you feeling?!" Sun asked.

     Monty's attention snapped to Sun. His head twitched to the side, and he crouched slightly.

     You got a very bad feeling just then, like an unexpected shock, too much electricity overloading your circuits.

     "Sun-" you started to warn.

     Monty sprang forwards, lunging at Sun with clawed hands outstretched.

     Sun cried out and quickly spun around, hunching over you as his hands closed in tight around you. You felt a violent shudder and a horrible high pitched metallic scraping sound that sent an uncomfortable amount of grating feedback piercing through your audio processors.

     "Ouchie," Sun whined.

     Sun was moving, and you could barely see through the cracks between his fingers. He was running for the nearest door- luckily, you'd already been through the hallway beyond with Sun earlier and the lights were already on- and you could hear Monty in hot pursuit.

     You could finally see again as Sun adjusted his hands, cradling you to his chest with one while the other hit the door controls. You were already moving after a brief moment of reorienting yourself. Monty and Sun went back and forth with the door controls as you darted into the walls.

     You were moving as fast as your little legs would carry you. You knew Sun had to be damaged, but you hadn't been able to get a good look at him. You did your best to focus on the most pressing problem; getting this door shut so Monty couldn't hurt Sun again.

     You could barely wait the milliseconds required between signals. You cut the wire and deftly reconnected it. All was still and far too quiet.

     When you finally made it back out of the walls, Sun was sitting on the ground, his face plate turned all the way around so he could see the damage on the back of his casing. The door was closed, and you could hear Monty stomping around on the other side.

     "Hi tiny friend," Sun said quietly, his face plate swiveling back around to look at you. "So ummm. There's good news and there's bad news."

     You were already scurrying around Sun to look at the damage for yourself. Sun's face turned to follow you.

     "The good news is that parts and service is really close by!" Sun said as you sat there and stared. "The bad news is that I need to get there pretty much as fast as physically possible."

     There were three gashes in the metal near Sun's shoulder, right above and leading into where his casing had been entirely torn away. There were a lot of exposed and severed wires, as well as at least one support beam spanning the vertical length of his endoskeleton's spine that looked a breath away from snapping.

     You finally snapped out of it and started quickly flashing your tail at Sun. "Do not turn to either side. Do not lift your left arm. Stand slowly and move quickly." You climbed up Sun's leg and scaled his scarf in order to get up onto his shoulder, so he wouldn't have to reach out and lift you.

     Sun did as ordered, moving very carefully. You heard some concerning groaning, but nothing snapped. Sun made his way down the hall towards a 'Staff Only' door leading down into the access tunnels.

     "Wowie, that sure is a lot of warning pings and damage errors!" Sun laughed nervously. His voice was strained and much higher pitched than usual.

     "Keep moving. You'll be okay. I'll fix you."

     Sun nodded. "My tiny friend is very good at fixing things."

     "Right." You kept checking and double checking your internal clock. Time seemed to be moving a little too slowly as Sun made his way slowly but surely to parts and service.

[knightofnightmoo]

Welcome To Glance.

Apology Not Accepted.

Halls longer than the Mississippi and darker than a starless night sky. Never had the darkness bothered Devland until that night. Never had the dark halls of the home glimmer streaks of red.

That night was like any other. Bedtime story, good night kisses, and goodbyes. Lights out, all the windows locked and some boarded, the doors shut and locked tightly, and his father sitting up in bed with the shotgun by his bedside. Creaks and groans sneak their way around the house. The occasional scratch or growl heard. Nothing to fear as long as everyone stayed quiet. As long as everyone stayed still. 

Devland, only seven years old, decided the rules weren’t real because nothing has ever happened. Getting out of bed he tiptoes his way to the bathroom down that dark hall. Floor whining with every step. Silence met his ears when he reached the door frame. Not even the whistling from the wind alerted his sense of hearing. Nothing. The quiet night startled the boy into a moment of pause. With quick steps and squeaking of his father’s door meant he wasn’t the only one put off by the soundlessness. 

Eyes wide and wild and pajamas disheveled, his father looks at him, gun in hand. Hastened strides bring his father to him before a loud crash of glass and tearing of wood from downstairs makes the two stiffen. The pounding of his heart hit his ears and make tears well in his eyes.

“Go to Baba’s room and lock the door. Do not open the door until an hour after sunrise, do you understand me?” His fathers voice is sharp and hushed. When Devland doesn’t give him an answer he looks at his son with a hard expression, “Do you understand?” 

Breathing became a chore as he closed the door to the largest room in the house. He had no need to wake Baba as she was already up and tying on her robe. 

“Come.” She commands in a soft whisper. Her embrace is only able to ease a select few nerves. Noises from downstairs only become more concerning as her hug tightens. Roars, yells, and blasts were all she could hear. That is until he hears his father yell out in agony. Baba says nothing as she releases him and goes to check her window, making sure it was locked securely. Without a thought in his mind, Devland runs out the door. The dreams had gone silent and blood traced the walls. Heart in his throat and a body of jello he wobbles down the stairs. 

Blood replaced most of the wallpaper and floorboards. In the middle of the living area lay the source of the new paint job. Right on the carpet was his father. Red covered his nightwear. His eyes moved from the ceiling to his only child. His gasps gurgled and wet with the blood in his throat. His body was eaten and mangled. The creature, the monster, stood over him. It is still chewing on his left leg. Its long brown legs tangled with themselves, body bent and snapped in odd angles, and antlers scraping the ceiling. The deer-like monster slowly turns its head to the kid. Within a second it charged at him. Hands and feet slam against the stairs as he attempts to escape. Success lasted all but a minute until hundreds of sharp teeth dug into his leg and tore through it as if it were gum. 

Screams of pain left him as he slid back down the stairs. The beast swallows the leg whole and before it could try for another bite a blast to its chest makes it stagger. Another hits it in the back and then the hip. Its clawed hooves dig into the bloodied boards and it launches itself out the door and in an instant it is gone. It was gone and so was his father.

The visit to Dr. Cummings at four in the morning was mostly a blur. He had been put to sleep and when he woke his missing leg was now a stump of injured flesh and stitches and bandages. Numbness consumed his heart as he spent the next week in a wheelchair and later at his father’s funeral. Ms. Hangerman apologized profusely to Baba and him. Apologizing wouldn’t bring his father back. Nothing would. 

“She didn’t do it, Devland. It wasn’t her. Don’t take your grief out on those who cannot control it.” Baba explained in a cold voice as she cleaned his wound. If he had been an adult he would’ve gotten to partake in all the alcohol Ms. Hangerman delivered to them as compensation. His father was worth more than alcohol. More than apologies. More than his leg. Why can’t the adults understand that even if they are monsters they don’t get to pay for his forgiveness. Not anymore.

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[saintprinsessa]

Show me your colors: Agatha Harkness x Fem!reader

Summary: An Au of how Agatha met you and you pinched her curiosity.

You were a witch without colors. And every one of them had one.

Trigger warning: Hurtful past, but the rest is just pure teasing and fluff vibes.

Author’s note: If you find any mistakes, these are on me!

This cost me a bit, I hope it´s good.

Anyways, please enjoy. <3

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

150 years before the Hex thing.

Soft creaks could be heard in the deepest parts of the woods, in the night, everything turned less lively and more disturbing.

Crickets making a symphony in the pasture, the wind blowing through the trees making them tilt a bit, while some of the leaves fell, dancing harmoniously until they touched the ground.

It was raining, so the witch speed up her steps, she despised when her cloak damped, it could turn into days to let it dry completely.

A bad feeling hit her gut, she swears for a moment that she heard some kind of lament or whimper; she straightened herself and looked around, trying to find where did it come from.

Now, it turned into a crying, but it remained soft, like if it didn´t want to be heard.

The witch put one of her hands up, making a claw form and letting some of her purple magic dance in it.

She slowly approached the source of the noises, she ducked a little to pass a tight space between two trees, when she crossed to the other side, she accidentally stepped over a branch making it crunch and alerted the presence that was sobbing near, who quickly tried to get away from its intrusor.

Agatha hesitated a bit, she took a step backward and her hand went higher, trying to let know to whatever was in there, that she was capable of overpowering it.

After a few seconds, the movements ceased and the sobbing was back again.

The witch walked towards the being and stopped when she took what was in her sight.

A girl?

She whipped her wrist a little purple flame appeared to give her light.

How a girl could be in here... ah.

She got the flame to grow a bit and let it float near, then she carefully kneeled in front of the scared being that was curled up in front of her, who turned out to be you.

"Please, just let me go, don´t hurt me."

You said with a shaky tone, shivering a bit, your hands tangled in your hair for protection.

"Are you a witch?"

Agatha had her brows knitted.

In case you were one, what was the point of being so scared?

You stopped trembling.

A new voice...

You let your hands fell from your hair, then moved the hair off your face, so you could see who was talking.

But instead of seeing the figure first, your eyes caught the floating light, then locked into the witch´s ones.

She cleared her throat, expecting an answer.

"I am, ma´am."

You replied calmly, and Agatha hummed.

An intense stare fight started between you two, light tension could be felt in the air, the soft rain was the only thing daring interrupt.

It all stopped when a small droplet of water sneaked under Agatha´s cloak and ran down her back, she clenched her jaw, stood up, and rolled her eyes mentally as she started to walk.

"This way."

You were stunned, but as soon as you heard those words, you stood up clumsily, stepping over your dress and tried to catch the witch who was now meters afar.

The whole trip was silent, Agatha kept up a steady pace, the flame following close and then you, who almost tripped three times now.

When you recovered from your close fall and composed yourself, a cottage appeared in front of you.

This wasn´t here before, was it?

Agatha made her way inside, so did her flame, instantly disappearing and lighting all the candles around the house, and you followed, well, nearly.

You stood under the threshold nervous, waiting for something.

Agatha noticed your hesitation and chuckled while raising a brow.

"Are you waiting for an invitation? Close the door, it´s freezing."

You nodded eagerly, wiped your feet on the little entrance carpet, and shut the door softly behind you, just to feel a warmness in the air when Agatha conjured a spell to light up the chimney and made the house regain temperature in seconds.

"Now..."

Agatha said while she encircled you, observing.

You had your hands clasped at your front, chest rising and descending slowly and your eyes were fixated on the floor.

"How did you come to end sobbing and squealing like a harmed little rat?"

Of course, the witch wasn´t going to be easy on you.

You shifted your gaze to look at the witch and returned to the floor again.

"Well, I... I thought... I thought you were..."

You breathed deeply, then started to shift your weight from feet to another and chewed the inside of your cheek, avoiding her presence, feeling how her eyes burned into your skull.

Agatha didn´t like that, so she made a move.

With a quick trick, she had you trapped on a wall, with your hands pinned to your sides.

You squealed surprised, processing the sudden change, your head bumped onto the wall with force, and you hissed through gritted teeth.

"I won´t ask again."

Agatha said dryly, while a purple darkish cloud formed between her fingers and grew bigger as time passed.

"Wait! Please!"

You breathed almost tripping over your words.

"I thought you were one of the witches of the coven! They didn´t want me near them!"

That didn´t resolve Agatha´s curiosity about your origin but enlivened them.

"What got you expelled?"

You tilted your head as if Agatha was saying crazy things.

The dark-haired knitted her brows and took a step forward.

"Ah! Ex-expelled? I was never part of it... they wouldn´t let me..."

Tears now were falling freely on your face, not just the pain in the back of your head, but your story was affecting too.

"Why?"

The question was calm, Agatha´s hand didn´t glow anymore, she saw how you were not in any position of attacking her, you were vulnerable.

You raised your head to look at the woman and tried to lift your hand a bit, but it quickly was put down by a flick of a wrist of her.

A sob escaped from your lips, and the woman let your body fall to the ground, soon, you were curled up trying to be the farthest possible from the other witch.

"Please, just let me show you"

You said in shaky breaths.

"If you try anything..."

Agatha summoned the little purple flame again, but it had spikes now and it was dangerously close to your head.

You closed your eyes, inhaled, and exhaled sharply, while rising your hands slowly and making a little dance with them to just emanate energy from it.

Agatha was watching everything closely.

Now, the energy was a little sphere and started floating until it reached Agatha's level of eyes.

Her eyes shifted from the ball to your now-forming sad smile.

The energy had no color.

Every witch that Agatha had witnessed had a specific color in her powers, it showed the goal of the witch, that is why it was usual to see a coven with the same type of color on their powers, every one of them had the same objective.

Hers was purple mixed with black because of her thirst for power, even trespassing the insane limits and moving as free will in the dark side, but she loved to sugarcoat it and said that she just belonged to royalty.

"I´m useless, that is the problem, I won´t learn"

You said shrugging your shoulders a bit, while the energy ball faded.

Something in Agatha spoken for itself and decided that she had to be your instructor, she had to show you how useful you could be, otherwise, what she could do with you?

And as time passed by, you now could protect your thoughts, manipulate others and even shapeshift things easily.

But something was still missing.

A few years later.

Books were swirling around the witches as the oldest one in the room was conjuring, you were just observing, from time to time, making little figures of animals to make the ambient more alive.

Agatha snapped out her concentration when a ton of fishes came swimming through her hair and one slapped her cheek with her rear fin.

She glanced annoyed at your figure while you muffled a snort, trying to contain your laugh.

The brunette sighed and the animals disappeared.

“How come to after all this time you never, not even once, had color in your powers?”

Agatha put a hand in her head dramatically, while the other one rested on her hip.

You shrugged your shoulders and kept your head low, why she kept asking that?

“The powers of a witch always come with a specific color, not only it shows the intentions, but the personality and aspirations of the witch.”

You shook your head a bit and slightly twitched your wrist, so a little trick would show.

A flame was sparkling in your hand.

“Gray...”

Your lips twitched upwards and you were limited to nod.

“Don’t you have any mission, dear?”

You knit eyebrows.

Well, I´m hungry, so eat?

Agatha now started lecturing you, you just huffed defeated, every time that she brought the subject up, it ended with her being exhausting and repeatedly explaining how you needed to concentrate on finding your “true nature”.

“Are you listening, (y/n)?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled sarcastically.

“Yes, mentor, always.”

Agatha chuckled slightly, she knew how much worked up your nerves being told this and that, you usually called her “mentor” when you were mocking.

“Well, now, be a good girl and help me with this new spell.”

A pink flush was spread all over your face.

You did help her, because, you were a good girl.

A good girl for Agatha.

Later that night.

“I think..."

Agatha said aloud, suddenly irrupting the silence in the house, making you shift your gaze off the book.

"We have never tried putting you in an extreme situation."

The witch said reflexively.

"We need to find something that disturbs you enough to the point of reach your limits."

She said now enthusiastically, a train of ideas came fast to her brain, and honestly, it scared you a bit.

"What about trying with spiders?"

You gulped, and shook your head, completely disagreeing with her.

"No insects, no fire neither water, just no."

You said defensive, dismissing any crazy idea that she could probably have.

Agatha mumbled some incoherences under her breath about how boring you were.

"Fine, then, on the other hand, we have to fulfill one of your biggest desires, little one."

Your body trembled and you bit your lip nervously.

“Ah ah, I think I provoked something in there, didn’t I?”

Now your eyes were back to the book in your hands, avoiding Agatha.

“What is the thing that you crave most than anything, angel?”

You ignored her, but you knew that, sooner or later, you had to show her.

What your mind and soul wished was undeniable at this point.

There was no getting away from this.

Once you took enough encouragement, you tossed the book somewhere, took a step forward, and hesitantly cupped her cheek with a doubtful hand, and closed the gap between you two, brushing your lips into Agatha’s soft ones.

A jolt of energy went through your bodies, making Agatha and you squirm on your feet with excitement.

She let her palms rest on each side of your body, softly caressing up and down.

And deepened the kiss, tilting her head to the side while you sighed contently.

Now, the magic in the air became ecstatic, embracing you two close.

It was a slow dance with your magic and hers, intertwining and mixing to vibrate gently, your bodies synchronized your heartbeats and breathing, your figures locking as if somehow, they were made for each other.

You were finally accepting your feelings.

You had fallen for her.

Badly.

Every time that you saw her smile at you, your heart tried to jump out of your chest, your breathing became unstable and your cheeks burned.

Agatha made you feel invincible.

A muffled chuckle made you come back from your cloud.

How sweet you are, (y/n).

That sentence echoed in your mind, there was a sudden tickle in your head and you became a flushed mess, you were beyond embarrassed.

Agatha had heard your thoughts.

“Orange?”

Agatha said smiling, her forehead was pressed with yours, her eyes locked onto yours.

She was referring to your, now, colorful powers.

“The color of creativity and enthusiasm”

Agatha snorted a little and closed her eyes.

A lot of memories of you laughing, messing with her, making weird tricks and bad jokes just to make her smile were flooding in her mind.

“It suits you, sweet tooth”

She just smiled widely, little wrinkles forming in the corner of her eyes, she took a little distance from you to watch your features better, grabbing your shoulders and squeezing them, looking at you with a purple gleam on her eyes, she did this when she was excited.

Your eyes pulsated with light too, a smile was seen on your face as you started jumping.

Without a second thought, you hugged her tightly, wrapping your legs on her waist and your arms around her neck, that made her lose balance but your magic quickly caught you both.

You laughed for minutes, resting your head in her chest, she was brushing her fingers in your hair while humming.

“You must be proud of me now.”

You sat, straddling Agatha’s waist, your bodies floating together around the house, energy reverberating around.

“Oh (y/n), I have always been proud of you.”

Agatha sat a bit too so she could reach your lips and you leaned to join her in a slow and tender kiss.

This one was longer than the last, after you both lost your breath, you left each other's warm while sharing loving glances.

Softly, you grabbed Agatha´s hands and started lowering yourselves down gently until your feet touch the ground.

You were still lost in her eyes, so she was the first one to break the silence.

“Now, dear, help me clean the mess you made”

She tapped your hand and squeezed your left cheek.

You knitted your brows confused.

What mess?

You looked around.

Ah, that one.

To your bad luck, you weren’t the only ones floating around the house, but the decorations, books, and everything that was near you floated too.

“Oh, well”

You moved closer to the witch and she closed her eyes to receive a kiss that never came, so she opened her eyes again.

“That’s your problem now, mentor.”

You were nowhere to be seen, but your voice could be heard in the house, surely you were hiding in a room where you were partially safe.

Agatha chuckled and rolled her eyes while started putting everything in place, with her magic of course.

"Oh (y/n), there is no solution for you."

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.” Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

chapter one: never watered down

a/n: Big warning on this: child abuse, vomit, alcohol. Believe me, I don’t feel great about it. But needs must be. ~2.2k

He’d never been asked to pinpoint when it started but if pressed he’d probably identify one particular night in the house he grew up in. That house, never a home, was full of memories that could have tipped the scales, started him stumbling down the path he later found himself on. But, no, upon examination there was, without question, one night that started it all.

That night, like most nights, his dad had fallen asleep with an open bottle beside him. With a child’s lack of foresight, Aaron crept close and brought it to his lips recklessly. The liquid made him cough, lungs burning with the harsh fumes that curled up into his sinuses. Undeterred, he took a smaller sip. It tasted foul but he was driven by an unrelenting curiosity to know what it felt like. He had observed the difference in his father’s behavior from when he came home tense and bitter to the point where he was passed out in front of the TV, his face smoothed of any expression. A few more sips and it began to go down a little easier. Mr. Hotchner shifted in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Aaron slipped away and, without thinking about it, took the bottle with him.

Back in his room, he sat on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tucked in the small space between bed and wall he was just out of sight of the door. The world swam around him as he reached the bottom of the bottle. His eyes felt heavy. The bottle tipped over and he laid on his side so he was parallel to it. He giggled as he rolled it back and forth, the last sip sliding along the inner curve. He tried to roll it fast enough for the liquid to meet itself in the chase. For once he felt warm and slow, so slow. His senses normally on high alert, he was like a rabbit twitching at every sound but right now everything felt loose and distant.

He rolled the bottle too hard and it slipped out of reach. He stretched out an arm but it was too heavy to move. Instead he just let his arm drop to the floor. His stomach rolled unpleasantly as he watched the bottle come to a stop under the bed. He curled around himself, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. To distract himself from the sudden nausea, he tried to go through his times tables. He had learned them a couple years ago in school but he always struggled to keep them straight. It had been the cause of more than one argument around the dining table. His father, who never had difficulty with numbers, insisted it was stupidity or, worse, laziness, on Aaron’s part that prevented him from being competent at math. He knew he should be able to do this, most kids in his class could recite these facts without a second thought. But for some reason, the numbers felt unmanageable, even at eleven years old. He knew there was something wrong with him, but there was so much wrong with him he wasn’t sure where his inability with math fell on the scale of his insufficiencies. It was impossible to understand how these things came so easily to others. It was the same sort of impossible as imagining himself as an adult, only a few years from now, less time than he’s been alive already. If time was to be believed, in seven years he would be eighteen and free.

He fell asleep somewhere in the six times table. He threw up on himself in the middle of the night, barely conscious as it happened. Unable to move as it made a mess down his shirt and pooled on the floor beneath his chin. He hadn’t eaten much so it was mostly a thin sort of bile at least. A small blessing.

Sometime before dawn rough fingers grabbed him around the back of the neck, dragging him from his hiding place. He had a hard time focusing his eyes but the anger was too familiar to miss. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, as his blood pulsed hotly through his dehydrated body. He couldn’t help the frightened tears that began to run down his cheeks. He was too disoriented to comprehend the insults, the curses being directed at him. His father shook him hard before throwing him down on the rough carpet. From here Aaron could see the worn cuffs of his father’s pants. He must have slept in his chair because he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

“You think you can steal from me?”

Those words came through clearly enough. Aaron started to panic as his dad pulled his shirt up, enough that his small back was exposed as he tried to crawl away. He couldn’t see anything, the fabric bunched around his head, arms trapped uselessly by his ears. His breathing quickened, causing the spot where he’d gotten sick on himself to draw close against his mouth and nose, setting off a wave of nausea. Aaron cried helplessly for his mother as his father let his anger out in lashes against his pale skin. He made himself as small as he could, the wet shirt getting caught in his mouth as he screamed. The taste made him retch but there was nothing in his stomach so he was left choking on coughs that seared through his chest.

He could never gauge how long the beatings lasted. Always longer than he had the energy to cry for. He grew still and quiet while his father continued to strike him. But the hits came slower, the pauses between each one lengthening as his breathing became labored. That kind of fury wan’t meant to be sustained. Once tired of the action, he aimed a final kick at his son and cursed as he walked away, belt hanging loose from his fist. In the doorway he yelled for his wife, who hadn’t been drawn to Aaron’s room despite his begging for her.

Aaron lay motionless, gasping, his body painfully stiff as he waited for his father to leave. As soon as the man was gone, he clawed at the shirt to pull it the rest of the way off and pushed himself backwards under the bed as far as he could get. Tears still ran down his face, though his emotions had settled into numbness, his body reacted automatically to the hurt. His foot bumped against the empty bottle, making it roll a little. He kicked it, a burst of anger tensing his muscles, and it spun away, crashing against the corner of the dresser. He froze at the sound of shattering glass, a whimper he couldn’t suppress escaping his mouth. He prayed the noise wouldn’t bring his father back. Shivering now, he buried his head in his arms, muffling any more sounds he couldn’t control and tried to hear the warning of returning footsteps.

He stayed there, tucked into the dusty darkness, listening to the sounds of the house: his father showering, his mother making breakfast. He didn’t attempt to move until he was sure his dad had gone for the day. He started to slide out but then an overwhelming fear that he would return suddenly immobilized him. He shrank back again. He was hungry, thirsty, he had to go to the bathroom but he was just too afraid to move. He remained there for a long time, forever it felt like, before he heard soft footsteps moving through the hallway. Logically he knew that it wasn’t his father but his hands shook with fear anyway.

His mother’s feet came into view, approaching the bed. She knelt down, dress tucked under her knees. “Aaron?”

He held his breath.

“Aaron, baby, come out.” She leaned down to look under the bed. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw him, half dressed, eyes wide and and circled by dark shadows. Her concerned expression shifted, a flicker of anger appeared but was gone in a flash, a match too easily blown out.

“Come on,” she held out a slender hand, palm up in supplication. He looked at it, unmoving. Where had she been when he was screaming for her? Hadn’t she heard? Why hadn’t she come looking sooner? Everything hurt, outside and in. His own anger burned through him, resentment driving him to action. He ignored her hand, instead pulling himself out on his elbows, putting as much space between them as possible. She remained on her knees as she looked at him. They were almost the same height positioned like this, his head slightly above hers in a preview of their future height difference. He wrapped his arms around his bruised and sticky chest, glaring at her. Upright, the blood drained away from his face, his balance became uneven and he swayed a little. She watched him adjust his feet, her hands useless in her lap after he’d ignored her offer. She was afraid to touch him.

She pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“You know I can’t help you. You have to be smarter than that.” Her voice was apologetic, though her words were not. All he could think about though was the way his throat felt raw from the sickness and the screaming and how she’d left him there alone for so long. She was the adult, she was supposed to take care of him. He was too wrapped up in his anger to see the grey bruises on her neck, to be aware of the contradiction between her long sleeves and the warm sunlight beginning to stream through the window. She sighed and rolled back onto her heels to stand up, picking up his dirty shirt.

“I’ll run you a bath, come on.”

He chewed his lip, watching her leave the room, wanting to disobey if only to make things difficult.

“You’re going to be late for school,” she called from the hallway.

He followed reluctantly, every movement sending fire racing across his back, every step unsteady. He hissed as he sank into the hot water but once he was submerged, it reminded him of the warmth the liquor had infused through him. The haze had softened the world with unconcern. He closed his eyes to remember the feeling better, only a few hours ago he had felt weightless. He wanted that back. With his eyes closed, he missed how his mother’s tears dripped into the bathwater, mixing seamlessly with the soap bubbles and steam.

He rested his cheek on his arms, folded on top of his pulled in knees. His mouth hung open slightly because he couldn’t breathe through his nose, still too congested from crying. He could almost fall asleep if it weren’t for the stinging pain that he couldn’t quite push away from his consciousness.

As the water swirled pink, his mother’s expression tightened while she brushed the washcloth against him as softly as she could. The cuts from the leather were shallow, not a serious injury, weaving across old scabs, older scars. There were fine pale lines alongside thicker ones, the pink shine of new skin. It made her want to scream, to run away but she knew that wasn’t fair to him. She couldn’t protect him from the man, she couldn’t protect either of them. But she could at least help him now. So she stifled her tears as best she could. Once his back was cleaned of dried blood, his chest freed of dirt and vomit, she pet his head softly. Her fingers brushed back the thick dark hair, the dampness causing it to curl slightly at the ends. It was too long again.

He looked at her with sleepy eyes, all his anger gone. He was just a little boy who wanted to be held by his mom, the only person he could remember ever touching him lovingly. Maybe not as much now, less and less as he got older, as his father’s disapproval of him grew. But he remembered, distantly, moments of safety in her arms. He wanted that so desperately right now.

“Can I stay home, Mama?”

She wanted to say yes so badly but that was how rumors started. She would do anything to avoid that suspicion, even if it meant rejecting her son. Someday he would understand, she reasoned.  

“You’re not sick Aaron, you have to go to school,” she did her best to sound firm, businesslike.

Disappointed but unsurprised, he knew better than to argue or pout, just looked down at the dirty bathwater. She got his towel and dried him off as gently as possible. He whimpered a few times when the towel met particularly raw patches. Each pained little sound tore at her heart.

“Go get dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He felt sluggish as he pulled on his clothes—the loosest darkest shirt he could find. It wasn’t hard, none of his clothes fit. They were all bought several sizes too large in the expectation that he would grow but that had yet to happen. His mother promised him it would happen soon but he had a hard time believing her. He had a hard time believing he would survive long enough to see himself grown.

chapter two

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 10, 2918 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for.

In this chapter, we move a little away from Vex again, to look at the others...

Read on AO3

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

Claws sink into his mind again, tearing at him. Orthax is angry, angrier than he’s been in a long time. He’d finally accepted that Keyleth wasn’t prey, and that Percy wouldn’t let him hunt and devour her.

Seeing that Wade person, with their dark hair and their dark eyes, Orthax had thought they’d be perfect. And once again. Percy had taken prey from him. He’d kept the demon from feeding, for the upteenth time in the last couple of years. So Orthax turns to the one prey he has at his disposal, the one he always gets to play with. The one he’s played with so much that there are only ruins of it left.

Percy feels like a chew toy for a sadistic dog. But he lets Orthax claw and scream at him. Better him than them. They’re innocent. If they shone a UV light on Percy’s hand, flesh wouldn’t be seen.

Blood tastes like copper on his tongue. He can’t tell if he bit himself, or if Orthax made him taste the half-elf’s blood. There are drops of it over the ground in the tunnel that leads to the outside. They can’t cross a certain point in it, Percy doesn’t really know why exactly.

Orthax shot his prey, right before they were about to cross, so maybe he’d be able to stop them. He failed. They were in so much pain, but they made it out. Percy doesn’t know which deity to thank for that.

The taste is strange and overwhelming and Percy wishes Orthax would take complete control. He wouldn’t have to feel any of this. But no. The demon knows exactly the sliver of control to give Percy so he will have to feel all of it, but won’t be able to take over again. Fuck. He’s so tired.

They stumble back up towards the rest of the castle. His feet hit the ground but Percy has no control. He’s stopped getting mad at Orthax or at the universe a long time ago. He used to rage and struggle for control over the smallest thing. A step, a motion, where his eyes looked. Now he just… waits.

He sees where Orthax looks, hears what Orthax listens, feels what Orthax wants him to feel. The pain or the pleasure or anything. Satiety. Despair. He’s in a cage in his own mind and the only thing he can do is bide his time, and rattle his cage in rare moments.

In those moments, for a second, he can distract Orthax long enough to let someone escape. And then he goes back to quietness and immobility, and lets the consequences roll in. The punches and claws of the demon he made a deal with.

It’s his own fault. The cage is of his own making. He’s done this to himself. He’s caged himself in revenge and hatred and pain and now he’s dealing with it. The pain is the direct consequence of his choices. He doesn’t get to complain about wanting his body back. About wanting to see his sister again, if she’s even alive, or in Whitestone, if she ever wants to see him again after what he did.

He doesn’t get to want anything. He gets to suffer. That’s all. It’s been two years. It feels like a hundred.

At least he saved someone today. He saved that half-elf with the dark hair and the dark eyes, they were so wide with fear and horror. That’s all the reaction he’ll ever get from now on. They were so beautiful. He’s so glad they made it out. He just hopes they got medical help.

He’ll have to ask Keyleth more about them next time she comes. Maybe she knows them. Maybe she’ll be able to tell him who they are, and what he’s managed to preserve. He’ll have to find something to do with Keyleth there next time… There’s no way Orthax is going to give him enough control to work on his machines for a very long time.

That is a reward for good behavior, and Percy’s been very very bad.

Orthax moves him through the corridors of the place he’s always called home. He still has the vague memories of his siblings running between these very walls, slipping on the carpet on the floor, when it was still this gorgeous dark blue. It is dusty and falling apart now.

The castle resounds with silence and loneliness. It’s just him now. It’s been only him since Cassandra ran from him, two years ago. Hopefully, she’s alive and okay. He’s told Keyleth not to tell him where she is or what happened to her. If the barrier that keeps him inside ever fails, he can’t know where she is. Her name is still on the barrel of his gun. He’ll go after her.

He walks past a room that used to be a salon for his mother and sisters. He wishes he could see them from the corner of his eye, his mother Johanna, his sisters Vesper, Whitney, and when she could be wrangled, Cassandra, learning needlework and politics in the same breath. He was pretty sure his three sisters had all known more about ruling than he ever did. But the room is covered in dust, the stools are broken. Precious memories have been scattered by one of his demons a long time ago.

Every room is another hole where his mind can get lost in the ruins of happier, sunnier days. Every room is empty.

I will kill your precious Keyleth, Percival. Don’t you think otherwise. I will feast on her soul…

Percy doesn’t doubt the genuine nature of the threat. He’s seen enough of Orthax’s violence to know he means every word, always. He’s tired of them though. Keyleth is gone on her Aramenté, and she won’t be back soon. Hopefully, by then, Orthax will have calmed down enough for Percy to have enough control to keep him from hurting her…

He’s selfish. He needs her. She’s the only person who looks at him like he’s a person. Keyleth’s kindness is like a copper thread keeping him tethered to his own sense of self. It’s horrible and dependent but he can’t help it. She’s all he has.

Wherever she is on the road, he hopes she’s safe.

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

Wind whips at Keyleth and her hair. It’s the icy wind of winter and she wishes she was in the cabin of the pick-up truck she found to hitchhike on, but this is not the worst. She could be walking.

The wind’s loud bellowing is almost overwhelming. Keyleth wants to shout at it, roar and scream and cry and have her voice carried away with it, far away. She wants to shout until she becomes wind herself. She can do it, probably.

She’s not powerful enough yet, but if she succeeds in her task in Terrah, she might be able to turn into an Air Elemental and literally become wind. She can’t wait for that. She can’t wait to have one more notch in the belt of her Aramenté, so she can deal with Percy without feeling as guilty as she does right now.

The driver of the truck is listening to music and some of its sounds whip past her ears with the wind. She has no idea what the words are, if there are any.

She’s sitting in the back of the truck with her bag at her feet. She’ll get to Westruun today, if the driver’s nice. The snow and the winter has made hitchhiking between Whitestone and Westruun difficult at best.

She should already be halfway to Kymal, but here she is. But at least she knows she can sleep at Pike’s tonight. The gnome is in Whitestone still, but she’s let her grandpa know Keyleth was on her way.

She’s looking forward to warm beds and blankets and probably some homemade alcohol. If Pike is anything similar to her grandpa on that front, Keyleth can definitely hope for a well-watered evening. Or not at all watered for that matter.

She lets her head fall back for a second, looking at the cloudless blue sky. It’s not the blue of summer, it’s the blue of winter, and she wants to feel this breathless and ethereal all the time. She wants to float or drive fast and be breathless. She wants the blue around her. Her red hair lashes in her face like fiery whips. Her eyes are watering from speed and wind and she’s almost happy.

All the physical feelings are enough right now to make her forget the rest of herself.

She doesn’t know what’s waiting for her in Terrah. It’s the first stop on a path that she doesn’t really know she wants to go on. She should want to. She should want to be the Headmaster of Zephrah but… Is this really for her?

She’s so small and young and unprepared for this. But Vilya is gone. Keyleth’s mom is gone and she has to take her place, because this is how things go. She has no siblings. This is her burden to wear. Her mantle to take on.

She closes her eyes when the tears in them threaten to overflow. Whatever’s out there, she’s going to conquer it. She doesn’t really have the option to fail. She wants to be the leader her people need, even if it means she won’t get anything else out of life. They need her. And she loves them.

She exhales.

The truck starts slowing down a little and she moves from her position to look forward. The city of Westruun lays over the ground in the distance. They’re coming down a hill and it sprawls out in front of her, surrounded by woods and the looming shape of Gatshadow Mountain.

She’s never been there. There’s a lot of the continent that she hasn’t seen really. The road between Whitestone and Zephrah is her only travelled one. But Westruun looks beautiful and glittering in the afternoon light, and she’s looking forward to meeting Wilhand Trickfoot.

The truck driver drops her off at the gates of the city and she starts walking in. She heads directly for the Market Ward, the area where Pike’s family home is supposed to be. She doesn’t have anything to look for anywhere else. She’s guessing rations and things for the road will be more easy to find around a market than around the temples.

Westruun is unlike anything Keyleth has ever seen. She doesn’t have a lot of reference, but it’s different, for sure.

Keyleth remembers very clearly the first time she left Zephrah and walked through Drynna. It was the biggest settlement she’d ever seen, and it was so little compared to Whitestone. Even smaller, compared to Westruun.

Zephrah was small and rough and on the top of a high mountain, away from the rest of civilization, and very much its own. Drynna was a fishing town with a couple of thousands inhabitants, sleepy and relatively quiet. Whitestone was a much bigger city but it was quiet too, kept docile by years of less than pleasant leadership, to the point where it had smothered trade and commerce within the settlement, with the soul of its inhabitants. Westruun…

As she walks through the streets towards the Market Ward, she’s surprised by the constant motion, the constant noise, the wave of a crowd and the music of conversation and feet.

It’s joyful. It’s the heartbeat of a city that hasn’t been tamed. With this as a comparison point, Keyleth can see what Father Reynal means when he talks about Whitestone as a zombie-like city. Undead, going through the motions but with eyes glazed over with death.

When she sees Westruun, she understands the metaphor. She hasn’t seen this many people in one place in her life. She wishes she could bottle this energy up and bring it back to Whitestone and give them some of that sunshine.

It’s the end of the afternoon now. It seems some people have stopped working for the day and are going home or running the last of their errands.

Keyleth decides she is going to soak in this energy as much as she can.

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

A few months ago, they stopped meeting at the Zenith, and started meeting in the sanctum of the Lady’s Chamber. It’s not that their faith in Pelor has diminished, no. Cassandra doesn’t think any of them had faith in Pelor in the first place, except maybe her.

The Zenith is crumbling apart. Father Reynal seems to be the only person in town that cares what the temple becomes and he’s not enough to keep it from crumbling. The weather and the elements are too strong. He’s not powerful enough to fight against that.

So they’ve relocated. The Lady’s Chamber is less red and gold than the Zenith. The furniture is well-crafted but less ornate. It’s simpler, in a way. More straight to the point. Cassandra likes the atmosphere of it. It reminds her less of the castle she grew up in.

It’s easier for her to forget like this. Most days, she prefers it like this.

Father Reynal, Keeper Yennen, Pike and Grog are sitting around the table in the sanctum when Cassandra comes in. They are not as tense as the last time she saw them. It had been right after the ranger had sensed a fiendish presence in the woods.

They’d managed to steer her away from the castle and Percy, however. That was probably why they are so relaxed.

They should have been more careful with Regae. They should have made sure he was okay, safe. Now that he’s dead, they have to deal with Vex’ahlia. And now, her brother, Vax’ildan.

There’s a heavy-looking file on the wooden table, without anything written on it. But Cassandra knows what it contains. When Vex’ahlia arrived in Whitestone, Father Reynal called in some favors here and there, and got a thorough background check on her.

Vex’ahlia Vessar, illegitimate daughter of Syldor Vessar, ranger with the TWC for the past five years. Formerly attached to the Shademurk Bog outpost, a tricky area going in and out of the Feywild. They’d seemingly given her the post because of her elven blood. Seemingly involved with Lord Saundor the Forsaken, Lord of the Shademurk Bog and the Gilded Run. Left the Shademurk in a hurry after a large fire erupted, earlier this year. Twin sister to Vax’ildan Vessar, definitely less of a noble figure. Criminal activities all over Syngorn and even Emon. And now he’s in town as well.

For all intents and purposes, the Vessar twins are nosy. Vex’ahlia didn’t lose any time in asking questions to anyone she could find, before sending her brother to interrogate Cassandra.

The debate about Vex’ahlia’s role in this has been going on for days now. Cassandra is so tired of it. She just wants to forget, again. She wants to forget about Orthax for another moment but no one will let her. They have to take a decision, and because this is about Percy and Whitestone, they all look to her. The last of the unpossessed De Rolos.

They have few options ahead of them. Driving them out of Whitestone, having something happen to them or recruiting them to the cause.

Cassandra doesn’t know how to feel about these. From what Pike and Grog have reported, Vex’ahlia is a fierce fighter and a fiercer soul. She will not be driven out easily. She could prove a good ally too. Keeper Yennen and Father Reynal are not in the state to manage the more physical outbursts of Orthax’s influence. They’ve managed to keep all of this contained for now, but if the barrier fails and Keyleth is not around, they will fall to Orthax’s power.

They can’t have that.

But Cassandra doesn’t want to trust someone else with this. It’s already too much. There’s six of them now, and Simon Whisk is getting closer and closer to asking for answers. Adding Vex’ahlia and possibly her brother into the mix is dangerous. The more people know, the harder it becomes to keep Percy safe.

She doesn’t want to know what it would be like if authorities in Westruun or Emon realized what was happening in Whitestone.

According to Father Reynal’s research, however, the Vessar twins aren’t likely to go and tell on them. They don’t have much when it comes to people to tell. It makes it easier to imagine bringing them in.

Cassandra doesn’t want to have them killed. She doesn’t need more blood on her hands, not after everything she’s done when under the Briarwoods’ thumb. She’s so tired of the pain and the deaths and looking at the Castle and knowing Percy is in there, in pain, and she can’t go and see him.

If Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan Vessar can help… Maybe it’s what needs to happen.

The door of the temple opens with an impressive bang suddenly. Everyone turns towards it, Grog’s axe already in his hands before they realize who is standing there.

Vex’ahlia Vessar is glaring at them with daggers in her dark eyes, looking more furious than ever before. She’s panting slightly, as if she’s just ran up to the temple in her anger. Cassandra swallows. This is bad.

“What the fuck is up with the thing in the castle and why did none of you bother telling me about it?” She roars and Cassandra freezes.

Oh no. She knows.

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Bonus chapter: Yellow

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Janus detects a lie.

Chapter word count: 1,800

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warnings: light angst, very mild blood via a bitten lip, and brief, hypothetical mentions of disembowelment and decapitation (Remus, amirite?)

oOo

Janus sipped at his chamomile tea, only faintly registering the bright yellow haze that overcame the left side of his vision. Another lie.

His vision would flare several times a day at least, always informing him of an untruth spoken by one of the sides. He was, of course, accustomed to this alert, having lived with this power for the entirety of his existence.

As the hot herbal drink soothed his aching throat (it was murder on the lungs to reprimand Remus so much), he indulged in his curiosity and closed his eyes. With a practised concentration, he mentally reached out for the false words that had sounded his silent alarm.

It was Patton’s voice. The version of Patton’s voice that Janus had deemed “daddy dialect” in the recent weeks. ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

Janus scoffed.

The lies he was so accustomed to hearing spanned the breadth of significance, from inconsequential white lies (‘I don’t know who finished your Crofter’s jam, Logan.’) to really outrageous fabrications.

Within the past two months, he had heard quite the abundance of silly fibs. Even in the space of a fortnight, some truly ridiculous ones had stuck in his mind:

‘I don’t need dinner!’

‘I-I’m older now. I can do this on my own.’

‘It was a purely tactical approach.’

‘Three, two, one, blow! … You did it!’

It seemed almost every lie spoken by the self-proclaimed “Light Sides” nowadays was riddled with either petulance or condescension. (That is, Janus thought with a roll of his mismatched eyes, at least notably more than was usual for them.) The reason behind it was not lost on him. He may not have been the designated logical side, but it would take an absolute dunce to miss the cues on what exactly was happening in the others’ household; Logan and Patton had evidently taken on caregiving roles for Virgil and, unexpectedly - though perhaps it should not have been, given his childishness - Roman.

Janus had had his suspicions of such after walking in on the household spending time together a month previously. Given how fiercely protective Logan had been of the others and the way Patton had hidden the two younger sides behind himself, it would be hard to ignore the shift in their dynamic. Though the confirmation of it through listening in to the others’ unwitting lies had come as quite an unpleasant shock to Janus, nonetheless.

Every day he sensed silly fibs. The one earlier about baby giggles being a legal requirement under baby law had been… not endearing, per se (that yellow pulse again), but perhaps interesting. Though none of the nonsense he had been alerted to in the past few weeks came close to the idiocy of ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

How self-assured. How naïve. How reminiscent of Janus’ own foolish thoughts all those years ago.

He sighed, lowering his mug to the table and running his cold fingertips idly over the burning hot ceramic. It was not that Janus was jealous (he ignored the faint swell of yellow in the corner of his vision) but rather that he felt an uncomfortable bubble of remorse in his chest, growing and stretching and forcing its way against his ribs.

As he had done countless times before, he wondered what things would have been like had he behaved differently when the youngest side was still part of his household. Had he been more understanding of Virgil’s behaviours. More accepting.

Well, as Patton’s lie had brought up such aching memories, Janus decided a tad more bittersweet self-indulgence would be fitting for the night.

He rose from his seat, tucked the chair back under the table, and slinked through the house fluidly. He thanked his serpentine side for allowing him to practically float up the stairs and through the hallway without making a sound. If either of the other two residents heard him and decided to leave their rooms for a chat, Janus would not be held responsible for whatever unsavoury greeting he may bestow upon them.

A vile feeling clawed at his throat as he neared the perpetually closed door of Virgil’s old bedroom.

With a sharp, short sigh that might have been at least partly a hiss, Janus pushed the heavy door open. The neglected hinges creaked.

Beams of cold light from the hall flooded through the gap of the opening doorway, making visible a thin segment of the abandoned room.

It was unmarred by dirt, slime, blood, or any other disgusting substance, thankfully. Janus had to give credit to Remus. As non-existent as that side’s impulse control was, he had managed to spare this single room from his various antics and pranks at Janus’ sincere request.

The room was entirely unchanged from how it had been left years ago. Small, dotted stains on the walls showed where blu-tac used to hold up punk band posters. Splotches of black on the carpet by the old dresser showed where liquid eyeliner was spilt too many times. Black cotton bedsheets (which now appeared grey with their faint layer of dust) were pulled taut over the mattress where they had only ever used to be in constant, rumpled disarray at a certain someone’s stubborn refusal to make the bed.

Janus gripped the doorframe tightly, clenching his jaw against his growing feeling of unease.

Being a “Dark Side” came with an appreciation of all things, well, dark. True crime stories were common conversation material at dinner, movie nights featured more than anyone’s fair share of fake blood (not always on screen, mind you; Remus had to have some fun once in a while, after all), and family bonding time consisted of debates on the darkest secrets of society and an abundance of teasing of each others’ insecurities and fears - all in good fun, of course. (Though, when Virgil had finally left for good that fateful day with tears streaming down his cheeks, Janus had been forced to reconsider what “good fun” really meant to them.)

As it was, Janus was accustomed to seeing and hearing things meant to turn stomachs, race hearts, and scramble minds. He shrugged at the majority of them and scoffed at the rest. But gazing upon this empty room - the physical embodiment of his failure as a parental figure - was the closest he thought he could truly be to feeling horrified.

Janus’ insides twisted and pulled so much every time his eyes wandered over the sealed doorway, that he had seriously considered asking that Remus follow through on his threats to disembowel him and relieve him of his agony.

Bile had not yet risen in his throat, so Janus considered today to be a good one to bring himself to peek at the old bedside table - or rather what lay upon it.

Once cluttered with makeup products, tangled headphones, and herbal anxiety remedies, the surface now lay mostly bare. Save for a single soft toy slumped across it limply.

The blue stuffed rabbit was a ghastly thing. It was missing an eye, one of its limbs was stretched far longer than the others (probably as a result of its owner’s nervous tugging which was otherwise directed onto his hoodie sleeves), and one of its ears was half-chewed to tatters (another nervous habit of its owner, no doubt). Despite its ratty appearance, the thing was harmless. Such an unassuming object, so innocent.

And yet it brought tears to Janus’ eyes.

He had never even learned the name of the damned thing and wasn’t it utterly ridiculous that Janus, the unofficial leader of the “Dark Sides”, was blubbering over a made-up name for an inanimate object?

It had not mattered to him before. It had made no difference to him what Virgil had named it or how much he had cared about it. Janus had metaphorically and mercilessly turned the thing into a weapon that day. With his careless tongue, he had twisted its existence from an item of comfort and attachment into a source of ridicule and hurt. It was no wonder Virgil had left it behind. It had been tainted.

Janus winced at a sudden sting in his lower lip. He had bitten into it again. One would have thought having fangs would convince someone to be more careful of such a habit. 

Delicately dabbing at a drop of cool blood at the corner of his mouth, Janus sighed shakily. That was quite enough emotional torment for one evening.

He released the old bedroom door and let it fall shut. It had barely thudded against the doorframe when that grating, obnoxious sound trilled from the bane of Janus’ existence.

‘What’s up, Jannothy?’

‘Remus,’ Janus greeted with an exaggerated eye roll. It was only partly to rid his eyes of their wetness. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’ Yellow tinted his left eye.

The distinctive scent of burnt paper met his nose. With a jolt of dread, Janus turned to see Remus half-caked in soot. He just about managed to contain a scream. It would have only invited one of Remus’ much-loved screeching competitions.

‘I see you’ve been in the library,’ Janus sighed. ‘Tell me, just how many of my books were charred beyond repair this time?’

Remus blew his cheeks out in a massive exhale, looking up to the ceiling in thought. As the warm breath wafted over his face, Janus was careful to breathe through his mouth.

‘Oh, only about half of them,’ Remus sang then cackled joyously for a short while. ‘But you’ll be glad to hear I sculpted the ashes into the shape of a nine-foot-long decapitated aardvark!’

Janus shut his eyes, shaking his head lightly. He hadn’t the energy to pander to Remus’ whims of fancy. ‘Good night, Remus.’

He silently slipped past the other side in the direction of his room.

‘But it’s only seven!’

‘I’m half cat.’ Yellow again.

‘Jan - wait,’ Remus called behind him, and the incongruous hesitance in his voice gave Janus pause.

He twisted his body back, surprised by the incredibly rare sincerity in the furrow of Remus’ brow.

‘All right. You have my undivided attention,’ Janus drawled, making a point to hold up his hand and inspect his nails thoroughly. He smirked at the yellow tint of his vision.

‘You seem bummed out,’ Remus whined, ‘and the role for resident bum is filled out by me already.’

Janus rolled his eyes again. At this rate, he would get vertigo.

‘So, are you, y’know… okay?’ Remus asked quietly. (Really, what an oxymoron that was.)

Something hard and hot clogged Janus’ throat and he swallowed thickly around it. He dropped his hand and swiftly looked up to meet Remus’ eyes.

‘Yes,’ Janus said in an entirely even tone, ‘I am perfectly fine. Now, if you will excuse me.’

He spun away and marched down the narrow hallway, keeping his gait steady. It was quite a feat, considering the fact he was half-blinded by a bright yellow glare.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link 

TAGLIST (you can send an ask or message to be added for future fics!)

@tearful-babi

[cupcakemolotov]

New York, New York

So I finally finished a thing, and its not what I thought I was going to wrap up first but that is life! It is completely SFW, and very much “Canon, what Canon?” And its been more years than I willing to admin since I applied for colleges, I just glossed over those details. :)

Also, formatting, why are you like this.

-

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Bon. I don’t want to say I told you so but…”

The groan was loud in her ear. “I know, I know. But who would have thought it would be this bad?”

“Me. I thought it would be that bad,” Caroline said with a laugh. “And then I told you about it so you could avoid it. And then you didn’t.”

Bonnie muttered something so low, even Caroline’s vampire gearing couldn’t quite catch it. “Well, we're going to put down rules. As I’ve already told Elena, I might not be a vampire but I have a perfectly good set of ears and there are some things I do not need to hear.” Bonnie huffed out the last sentence. “And I refuse to have to spell my own bedroom to sleep.”

Caroline bit down on the side of her tongue to keep from commenting, knowing it would do little good. Somehow Damon and Bonnie had become friends, and while she would never understand it, she and Bonnie had come to an agreement. Caroline wouldn’t be automatically negative about Damon as long as Bonnie managed to do the same for some of Caroline’s friendships. 

It was a work in progress. 

“Well, if you need some breathing space, you are welcome to come hang out with me for a weekend. I’ve been melting my credit card, and I might as well use those points for something instead of shoes.” She glanced towards her bedroom and grudgingly admitted the next sentence. “I really don’t have the closet space for more shoes.”

Bonnie seemed to consider that. “Shoe collection aside, it can’t be that small…”

Caroline laughed. The apartment was a small one bedroom and technically outside of her budget, her dad’s insurance money only went so far, but she hadn’t felt a lot of guilt over her teeny tiny use of compulsion. Not when the renting market was so high and her textbooks were so expensive. And while hardly microscopic, her bed barely fit into the space designated as her bedroom. She did have walls that separate her bedroom from their living room, her couch, TV, and small table were tucked pretty close to her tiny kitchenette. The big selling point had been the claw-foot bathtub. She’d given up having a real shower, the  shower-head had been rigged above the tub and the shower curtain she’d bought was super cute but if she’d still been human the breeziness of the space would have been murder. Overall, the space she had carved out for herself was cute but cramped. 

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“It really can be. You should have seen Mom’s face when she agreed to co-sign, which is another really weird thing about this city. My credit check was stellar, I had the cash for the down payments and still they wanted a co-sign, but whatever. The good news is my obsession with HGTV has taught me plenty about hiding organizers, and thankfully, I don’t really need the kitchen.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down. “Though carpet is new but seriously ugly, so I am going to have to invest in a rug, I think.”

“The lack of needing a kitchen thing is kind of ideal for New York, but I personally am going to miss your stress brownies, though my hips wont,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “And your note taking. I already miss you in Physical Science, and why are Gen Eds so terrible?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “It cannot be that bad.”

“Says you,” Bonnie retorted. “And anyway, Elena just stuck her head in to remind me that I promised to go to some Freshman Orientation event, so I guess I gotta go. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“You first,” Caroline retorted. Bonnie laughed and disconnected the call. For a moment, she held onto her phone before sighing and setting it on the coffee table and flopping onto her couch. If she closed her eyes and listened she could hear everyone in her apartment building, which was something she hadn’t really thought about when deciding on an apartment.

Not that she’d had much time to figure things out. Weeks instead of months, but Forbes women were nothing but resourceful. And very, very determined.

Caroline just hadn’t expected her mom to get stubborn about her college experience. She’d expected Liz to be fine with Caroline going to Whitemore and sticking close to home, and it’s been a shock when things had gone sideways. When Caroline had marked down NYU on her SAT application form, it’d been on a whim. She’d been required to pick three schools and some part of her just couldn’t stick to the local community colleges. 

And later, when her counselor had handed her the application packets, she’d stared at them for hours, considering. She had never thought she’d get in or that she’d get enough of a scholarship that living in the city would be manageable if she was careful. Very, very careful with a bit of compulsion thrown in at least. She’s considered it for all of thirty seconds before tucking the acceptance letter away. 

There was just too much going on that she could walk away. Even with the Originals packing up and moving on, there was still her mom to worry about. One of the perks of being a vampire was that she could always pick up those dreams later. 

Her mom had disagreed. Loudly. It’s taken three days before Caroline has finally cracked, and admitted why she had refused. And she’d learned a lot about her mom that morning that she hadn’t expected, and hadn’t had much time to contemplate with the scramble of getting into NYU. Her mom hadn’t even argued when Caroline had dragged her to NYC to check things out and to smooth over the issues her late application had caused. 

Compulsion really was quite handy if she was careful with it. But more importantly, NYU was totally close enough that if she had to she could get on a plane for an emergency, but her mom, in a bit of underhanded maneuvering that Caroline had admired, had made a very specific list of what could be considered an emergency. And then she’d invited Elena and Bonnie over for dinner, and her mom had also explained it to them too. It’d been weird to have someone else fight that battle, but good. 

Above her, something crashed and there was muted swearing and Caroline sighed heavily. She was really going to have to make a point to stay well fed. Going on a rampage because Courtney in 4A couldn’t keep her dog from yapping at all hours of the night was not ideal. She had been prepared to listen to her neighbors have noisy sex, well, at least until she could get Bonnie here to do some proper spell work, but the rest of it was a learning curve. So far, eating had been going okay. 

She’d been getting tips. 

And boy, would her friends freak out as soon as they learned who she’d been texting. But Caroline had always considered herself pragmatic, and her options had been limited. Stefan would rather light himself on fire than give her any kind of 101 Guide To Eating People Without Killing Them, and she would rather light herself on fire than talk to Damon. 

Klaus…

She blew out a breath. Klaus was her friend, even if her graduation ceremony had made his position on… things… perfectly clear. But weirdly, she’d found his words strangely boundary defining and a relief. Last love was definitely not now, not anytime soon in fact, and his acknowledgement of that had eased the knot she always seemed to carry around in her chest. And so when she stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle of more people than she could remember really seeing in one place, like ever, she’d let herself text a number she’d refused to admit to anyone she had memorized ages ago. 

And he had responded. 

And Klaus had kept replying, no matter when she sent him a question. In between organizing her life and schedule, he’d been extremely helpful without any sort of judgement. If anything, he seemed more resigned to her lack of knowledge than anything else, providing her with Vampire Basics she’d never thought to ask Damon or Stefan about, and the knowledge had helped. Accepting the monster under her skin was not something that was going to be easy, but Klaus providing actual information about the whys and the hows helped far more than she thought she’d ever tell him. 

And his faith in her control was not something she’d ever expected to need. But he’d offered it with no prompting and the truth was she made an excellent vampire. She was good at it, thrived with the challenges of it, and she thought the next few years would be good for her. And it was nice, knowing that if she screwed it up she’d have people who’d help her fix it. Even if  some of them were just  a tiny bit more dangerous than others. 

Head tipping to the ceiling, she chewed on her lip and sighed. Putting Klaus in one category had never been easy, even when he’d been firmly in the villian bucket. She didn’t doubt he would continue to refuse any easy labels, and she thought she might be okay with that. 

For now. 

Pushing to her feet, she stretched and sighed. Classes started in two days, and while she’d already organized her books and started doing some pre-class reading, there was no harm in double checking her planners and reorganizing her books. And after, maybe she’d go for a walk. Check out some of the all night places near her place to plan for future all nighters. The kind of places you’d take broke friends to for pie.

The sudden knock on the door startled her, because she hadn’t noticed any unusual footsteps. For a moment, her pulse slammed in her ears as she recognized the slow thump of a dead heartbeat. A familiar barely their heartbeat that promised something old was outside her door, and one that should not be in New York City. Reaching for the phone she tossed on her coffee table she picked it up and typed out a quick text. No point in guessing who was there; not when it was pretty easy to check without moving any closer to the door. 

Caroline [8:30pm]: Seriously, tell me you are not standing outside my apartment. Like, right this second. 

A soft vibration, a low noise of amusement was all the confirmation she needed and Caroline stomped towards the door and yanked it open. “Are you serious right now? How do you even know where I live? I didn’t tell you that.”

Eyes gleaming, a hint of dimple curving in his cheek as he looked up from his phone, Klaus smiled at her. “Hello, Caroline.”

Arms crossed, she leaned against the door and huffed to cover the way her pulse skipped at the sight of him. He looked the same, same clothes and same hair, but she felt his presence with an awareness that did not bode well for her intentions of thinking of him as only a friend. Klaus had always straddled that line but here, outside of Mystic Falls, it somehow felt different. Better. And that was not something she could allow with her plans laid out in front of her. Plans that did not suit him. “Yeah yeah, hi. Why are you here?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, lips tugging upwards. “I was in town, and I thought I would stop by. See how you are settling in, perhaps come up with an idea for a house warming present, since it seems you will no longer need that mini-fridge, hmm?”

“In town,” she repeated, ignoring the rest of his words. “Doing what? Because I am attempting to avoid vampire shenanigans for the next four years, Klaus. I promised my mom.”

“Nothing like that,” he assured her. “Just a quick errand, and I head back to New Orleans tomorrow. I am quite invested in you having the experiences of your choice, sweetheart. No one will bother you while you are here.”

Caroline paused. “No one...  as in no one? Are you threatening people again? People I haven’t even met?”

“Not yet,” Klaus said mildly. 

She bit the tip of her tongue to stop the barrage of words that wanted to spill out. Slowly exhaling, she forced herself to let it go. There was a time and place for this discussion and she wasn’t sure right then was it, not when she was so surprised to see him, and she could hear some of her neighbors coming up the stairs. “Don’t think we won’t discuss this later but I suppose you can come in?”

“Thank you, and I don’t doubt it,” he murmured as he took her invitation and stepped into her home. His gaze swept her space and for a moment, she had to stop herself from fidgeting. This was her first space that was hers and Klaus was the only person besides her mom who had seen it. He walked slowly through her public space, and his words were sincere when he spoke. “You’ve done a lovely job with your home, love. “

For some reason, she had to fight down a blush. “Thanks. The carpet sucks though.”

He slid her a laughing glance. “An entirely fixable state of affairs.”

“You will not compel my landlord,” she warned him, exasperation almost hiding the hint of her own smile. “About carpet or anything else, Klaus.”

He made a low noise but no promises. “And how are you liking New York?”

She did smile then. “I love it. But we’ll see if that sticks when I have to deal with the snow this winter and pushy people and an overheated subway. I’ve been warned.”

His laugh was soft. “I think you’ll manage. And while it's a bit late in the evening, could I interest you in dinner? My treat.”

Caroline eyed him carefully. “Taking me to dinner will not get you out of explaining how you have my address or any potential yelling about it.”

Klaus slid his hands into his pockets and dimpled. “I would expect nothing else. But I do hope that’s not the only topic you wish to discuss tonight.”

Curious, she tipped her head. “Oh?”

He lifted a shoulder, gaze intent. “I assume you’ve picked out your classes? Have your semester organized down to the hour? And while I am certain you more than have the knack of feeding down, sweetheart, I’m happy to answer any remaining questions you have or even provide a demonstration or two.”

The idea of hunting with Klaus did something funny to her stomach, and she turned towards her room to cover it. “I’ll think about it. Give me ten minutes to change and then yes, you can take me to dinner. But not something fancy, I am not in the mood for multiple forks. But wine would be great.”

His laughter followed her into her bedroom and she shut the door. Taking a deep breath, she forced down her tangle of emotions. One night out with Klaus wouldn’t hurt anything, she reminded herself, and he was right. She did have questions, and lists, and she should probably take the opportunity to go over everything while he was here in person. Plus she’d be willing to bet he had an opinion or two he’d be willing to share about rugs. 

Squaring her shoulders, Caroline headed for her closet to slap together a friendly dinner date outfit that would be suitable even if he did take her somewhere with too many forks. But they were definitely going to be chatting about his business in the city, and how he would not be dropping by without warning whenever he wanted to.

No matter how nice it was to see him. 

[myaekingheart]

131. Say Yes to the Dress

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Rei opened and closed her fist as she made her way to the bookshop. It was a beautiful morning but not even the weather could quell her relentless panic. She only wished Toshio could be with her to ground her and remind her that everything would be okay. Even he seemed displeased that he could not join her, watching her curiously as she made her way to the front door to leave. He leapt to his feet, eager to accompany her, spotted tongue lopping out of the side of his mouth. He didn’t quite seem to understand when she lifted her palm and told him stay, tilting his head curiously as she backed up and promised him she would be home soon. As much as it pained her to leave him, it only made sense. Bridal shops were never very welcoming of dogs.

               Still, a part of her would’ve loved to see the inevitable chaos unfold. Toshio would be like a bull in a china shop, making a mess of everything. It would serve as a rare bright spot in an otherwise unappealing day.

               And truly, it wasn’t that Rei was against trying on wedding dresses. She knew it needed to happen and besides, wasn’t she desperate for the relief? Hadn’t she been manic with all that still needed to be done? With fears that she was running out of time? And really, what was more important to a wedding than a dress?

               The child in her revered the thought with starry eyes, envisioning herself decked out like a fairytale princess. Within that excitement, however, was a very adult sense of fear. Shopping was never her forte and trying on clothes was dull and excessive. She remembered the shopping sprees that Naru would drag her on, the way she would encourage Rei to give every single garment a test-run. How can you know whether or not you’ll love it if you don’t actually wear it? She would ask. While Naru always enjoyed the glamour of it, posing in front of the mirror and playing with different skirt and shirt combinations, Rei always left exhausted and unfulfilled. Nothing ever looked as good on her body as it did on a hanger, or even worse on a picture-perfect mannequin.

               Unfortunately, this sentiment could not be truer than it was now. Rei chewed her bottom lip, discretely smoothed her tunic over her stomach. She had skipped breakfast that morning just to be safe.

               The chaos of the bookshop had significantly dwindled down over the past few days—a fact that Rei was grateful for now. The plan was simple: she would retrieve her mother and then they would both meet up with Sekkachi at the bridal shop for a two hour appointment of drowning in chiffon. Or at least Rei hoped they would meet Sekkachi. A part of her wouldn’t be surprised to find her bail. Lucky bitch, Rei thought to herself.

               Hana looked up form the register as the little bell above the door chimed to signal Rei’s arrival. A young girl poked her head out from behind the sparse shelves and watched curiously. “There you are!” Hana exclaimed. She slipped out of her apron and tossed it on the stool behind the counter. “I was starting to fear that you weren’t going to show.”

               “Why?” Rei asked, cocking a brow. She checked the clock on the adjacent wall. “We’ve still got fifteen more minutes.”

               Hana shook her head in amused disdain as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “You never show up any later than thirty minutes early to these sorts of things” she corrected. Rei frowned. What was the point in showing up so early if you were bound to just wait around anyway? She didn’t see the point. If she had to spend even five more minutes than necessary in that bridal shop, she was definitely going to strangle herself with a lace garter.

               As they approached the bookshop’s exit, the young girl hiding behind the bookshelves poked her head out expectantly. “Leaving already, Mrs. Natsuki?” she asked.

               Hana nodded. “Now Yuzu, dear, are you sure you’ll be alright here on your own for a few hours?” she asked.  

               Yuzu? Rei thought to herself. She watched the girl grin and nod with utmost confidence—far more than appropriate for someone her age. She was a toothy kid, surely no older than twelve, with sandy blonde hair and thick fuschia glasses—the lenses of which magnified her sea-blue eyes much like the man at the antiques shop. She must’ve been legally blind, a sentiment only further enforced by her fashion sense. Her outfit was an obnoxious amalgamation of bright colors and mismatched patterns, childish and almost even clownish. Rei recognized the texts hugged to her chest as political memoirs.

               “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Natsuki!” Yuzu replied. “I’ll make sure to keep everything running nice and smooth while you’re gone! And if anyone tries to start trouble, I’ll remind them that the real enemy is not me but the oppressive military establishment of capitalist Konoha as a whole! I think that should set them straight.” Here, she winked and Rei’s face suddenly felt hot and tense.

               Hana nodded absently and waved her off as she exited the store, completely unaffected by this young girl’s words. Rei blinked, frozen for a solid ten seconds, before rushing off after her mother.

               “So, uh, who’s the kid?” Rei asked as they turned the corner.

               “Oh, just some extra help around the store!” Hana chirped. “Your father decided we needed an extra hand and Yuzu seemed bright and capable so we hired her!”

               Yet again, Rei caught herself blinking in disbelief. “You know, if you guys needed a hand around the shop, you could’ve just asked me” she replied. “I’m still willing to come in and help out on my days off.” After all, wasn’t this a family business? That little kid was in no way family. Or at least no family of Rei’s.

               Hana hummed and shook her head. “Well, now that you’re a captain, I figured you wouldn’t have any time for us. We all know how busy you must be” she said. She glanced to Rei with an ambiguous expression—something bordering ingenuity, or pity, or perhaps fullblown condescension. Either way, it made Rei’s blood boil.

               Pursing her lips, Rei wrapped her arms tight around her waist and quickened her pace. After all, they didn’t want to be late, did they? As she sped toward the bridal shop, she muttered sourly under her breath, “Yeah, well I think she needs to get some sense knocked into her.” She couldn’t imagine her father taking very kindly to his new employee’s stances, but that wasn’t Rei’s problem. She wasn’t responsible for ironing out the consequences of her parents’ decisions—even if Yuzu’s personal politics felt like a slap in the face to the ANBU captain.

               Much to Rei’s relief, Sekkachi was waiting dutifully for them outside the shop. A cigarette clenched between her teeth, she leaned against the otherwise spotless display window, smoke encircling her head like an ironic halo. “Well, I’m not used to being the early one around here” she jested, flicking some ash onto the ground. “Looks like Kakashi has finally rubbed off on you, huh, Rei?”

               “We’re not that late” Rei grumbled under her breath, pushing past Sekkachi and into the shop. The blue-haired kunoichi cocked a brow in surprise, eyeing Hana before a sly smile spread across her lips. Pehraps this was going to be more fun than she had expected.

               The shop itself was stark white inside and not just because of the dresses. The walls—or what was visible of them—were painted white, the carpet was white, every single piece of furniture was white. Rei felt herself begin to dissociate the moment she stepped into that godawful, colorless hell. And the entire place reeked like roses—nauseatingly so. Rei scanned the room but couldn’t find any logical source for the smell. It had to be a genjutsu—Rose Scented Give Me All Your Money no Jutsu. It seemed fitting enough.

               As Hana approached the counter, Rei began to wonder if this was place was even real, if it had ever been touched by the gritty hands of the outside world. She imagined a fullblwoon battle breaking out right in the center of the showroom: a war between two high-strung brides over the same dress. They would claw one another’s eyes out and fling their bodies against the wall like ragdolls. Blood would splatter across the inventory. At least the puffy skirts, wide and pastry-shaped, would help cushion the impact. Probably.

               Sekkachi rested a hand on Rei’s shoulder then, snapping her from her existential crisis. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she nodded toward Hana, motioning for them to follow her into the belly of the beast. “I swear to fuck” Sekkachi whispered, half-joking, “I have never felt more butch in my entire life.”

               Rei clenched her fist around the hem of her shirt as they approached one of many seating areas in the boutique. Somehow the shop seemed to expand even further back than she could’ve imagined, the room stretching out in front of her with every step forward. Or perhaps in her dissociation, she was only imagining it all. Simply descending down the esophagus of a rather large beast who had no intention of ever spitting her back out. She would be stuck here forever, tangled in the delicate lace and pearly strings of a million and one wedding gowns. Not even hell itself could serve a darker fate.

               Their host was a rather angular woman in a black pencil skirt and black blazer. She was exactly what Rei would’ve expected to find in a place like this: polished and professional with an eternally robotic smile. Her name tag read Michiru.

               “I’m so delighted that that you decided to help us plan your special day!” she chirped in greeting. Rei choked back the vomit rising in the back of her throat. “So, which one of you is the blushing bride?”

               “Here she is!” Hana exclaimed. She paid no mind to her daughter’s resistance, her heels digging into the carpet, as she tugged Rei nearer. “This is my daughter, Rei! She’ll be getting married!”

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath, “No shit, why else would we be here?” Neither Michiru nor Hana seemed to hear her—or if they did, they did not acknowledge it.

               “Wonderful to meet you, Rei” Michiru greeted. Her tone was polite but artificial. It was clear that she was eyeing Rei like a poisonous bug, looking her up and down and scrutinizing her every flaw. The scar across the bridge of Rei’s nose tingled. “So, tell me all about yourself, Rei. Let’s get acquainted!”

               “Well, I’m a shinobi” Rei began. “I do a lot of, uh…domestic work. I’ve been at this for about twenty years now, I guess? Or at least if you count the academy, but that—”

               “Oh, no, none of that!” Michiru interrupted, scrunching her face up as if someone had just released toxic gas throughout the entire building. She swatted the air with a manicured hand as if to wave off the stench of honesty. “I mean tell me the important things. When is the wedding? Who’s the lucky man? What kind of dress are we looking for? What is our budget?”

               “Oh…” Rei murmured. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt so dejected—it made sense that Michiru only be interested in matters pertaining to the wedding. Yet still, that familiar sting returned to the back of her throat. Her mother’s remark bounced around in her head. It was becoming evidently clear to her now that there was a very narrow avenue of her existence that anyone ever seemed to care about. Everything else was just a detour.

               Before Rei could formulate an answer, Sekkachi cleared her throat and raised her hand. Michiru slowly turned to her, cocking a brow in curiosity. “Yo, quick question: how do you know it’s a guy?” Sekkachi asked.

          ��    Michiru blinked. “What do you mean?”

               “You know” Sekkachi replied, making a circular motion with her hand, “how do you know Rei isn’t gay? She could just as well be marrying a chick. You don’t know. Hell, she could be marrying me.”

               “Sekkachi, please” Hana whispered, her face turning bright red.

               “What?! It’s a valid question!” Sekkachi argued.

               Rei sighed and shook her head, recentering Michiru’s attention. “Don’t listen to her, she was dropped on her head as a baby” she excused. Sekkachi gasped in mock shock, restraining laughter. “Alright, so the wedding date is March 14th” Rei finally replied, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

               “Oh, a wedding on White Day!” Michiru swooned. “A classic choice!” The gears in her head were already turning, filtering through their entire stock to mentally dress Rei in the perfect gown. “And what about your, erm…significant other?” she then asked.

               “It’s a guy” Rei assured. Her cheeks burned red at the thought of having to describe her fiancé. Her gaze dropped to the ground and she rubbed the back of her neck anxiously. “Well, there’s really not much to tell. He’s a jonin leader so he’s great with kids. We’ve, uh…we’ve known each other practically our entire lives. He’s sweet and talented and—”

               “And fucking famous!” Sekkachi interrupted. “You can’t forget that part, Rei.”

               “Oh?” Michiru grinned. This was one interjection that she was actually delighted with. “How famous, exactly?”—a sudden gasp— “Might this be a celebrity wedding?”

               Rei’s eyes widened as she raised her hands in surrender. “Oh god, no! Absolutely not!” she argued. “No, we’re just two very much normal shinobi looking to plan a very normal wedding.” She shot Sekkachi a fierce glare, as if threatening her to say one more word on the subject. She did not want to make a big deal out of this.

               Sekkachi flopped down on the clamshell couch in the center of the room, sprawling her legs out in front of her. “I don’t see what the big deal is” she countered. “I mean, if I was marrying Kakashi Hatake—”

               “Kakashi Hatake?!” Michiru exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. She quickly took Rei by the shoulders, narrowed her eyes in suspicious desperation. “Do you mean to tell me that your are marrying the infamous Copy Ninja, Kakashi Hatake of the Sharingan?”

               “Y-Yeah…why?” Rei asked, taken aback.

               Michiru squealed and clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is perfect!” she exclaimed. “I had heard rumors that Kakashi was engaged but I didn’t really think they were true. After all, up until a few months ago, it felt like no one even really knew he was taken but now! Now I have the honor of outfitting the bride in the wedding of the century! This will do wonders for our reputation.”

               Rei rubbed her forearms awkwardly and averted her gaze. “I mean, really, it’s not that big of a deal. We—”

               “No, no, I won’t hear another word of it!” Michiru interrupted. She grabbed Rei’s arms then and spread them out so as to stick her in a T-pose. “We need to get to work right away! What kind of dress are we looking for?”

               “I-I don’t know” Rei admitted. “I never really thought about it.”

               “Well, there are plenty of options to choose from!” Michiru grinned, motioning to their inventory with a flourish. And truly, every wall was packed with weding dresses—so much so that the wall itself was barely visible.

               Rei chewed her lower lip, surveying the sea of white. “Yeah, maybe too many options” she muttered.

               “Well let’s start with the basics” Michiru began. “Do you want something traditional or more modern? What kind of silhouette do you want? Do you like lace or crystals? Pearls would match that engagement ring perfectly! How much cleavage do you want to show? You know, you have great breasts—you should really bank on that!”

               Hana cleared her throat, cocking a brow in scrutiny. “Now, now, let’s not get too hasty” she said, stepping between Michiru and her daughter. “As a bride, she ought to look respectable.”

               “Eh, I’m gonna side with Cheery McSmilepants over here” Sekkachi countered. “I think Rei ought to flaunt what she’s got. After all, it’s not like anyone other than Kakashi is getting ahold of her. He might as well have something to excite him on the big day.”

               “Fucking hell, Sekkachi” Rei muttered under her breath.

               Sekkachi merely shrugged and reclined on the couch, propping her feet up on the clean glass coffee table before her. Hana whipped around and frowned, swatting Sekkachi’s forearm in a silent command for her to put her feet down, this was a nice establishment. Sekkachi grumbled but did as she was told.

               Furrowing her brows, Rei replied to Michiru, “I mean, I don’t want to look slutty but I am not about to wear something puritanical.”

               “Oh, yes, of course not!” Michiru nodded emphatically. Finally she felt as if she was slowly beginning to gain an understanding of what Rei had in mind, even if the vision wasn’t actually very clear in Rei’s head. “I think I know just the thing” Michiru continued, nodding as she raised an index finger in the air. “Something lavish, of course. And on trend! We can’t have Kakashi’s wife walking down the aisle in last year’s fashion.” She made a stinkface here as if the very idea made her sick to her stomach.

               “What does that matter?” Sekkachi asked. “It’s not like anyone is going to know the difference.”

               “I will know the difference” Michiru replied sharply. Without another word, she turned and began flitting around the shop like an anxious hummingbird, filing through the racks and gathering a handful of dresses into her arms. By the time she was finished, she returned with a stack thick enough to nearly cover her face.

               “How much time do you think we have?” Sekkachi jested, leaning forward to poke at the chiffon. “How many dresses did you even grab? Fifty?”

               Michiru shook her head. “Only three!” she replied. Without a single moment of hesitation, she grabbed Rei’s arm and drew her back into the dressing room. Rei glanced back at her mother and best friend over her shoulder as they went, and the look on her face was like that of a pig dragged to the slaughter: terrified and desperate.

               The thing that Rei was not prepared for when it came to wedding dresses was just how difficult they would be to get into. Michiru commandeered the entire process, reducing Rei to nothing more than a living dress-up doll. She hated the way her body was exposed like this, the way her privacy felt violated, and how she knew Michiru would note every scar and scrape and stretch mark. As Michiru tugged Rei’s shirt up over her head, however, something far more pressing entered Rei’s mind. With a gasp, she immediately clapped her hand over her right shoulder.

               “What do you think you’re doing?” Michiru asked, unamused. She craned her neck to try and get a better view of Rei’s blushed, anxious face.

               “Uh…can I ask you one thing?” Rei chuckled nervously. Michiru urged her to continue. Her impatience was almost tangible. Grinning sheepishly, Rei asked, “Do any of these dresses, by chance, have sleeves?”

               The longer Rei took in the dressing room, the more anxious Hana became. It was no secret that her daughter was not one for shopping sprees. She envisioned Rei giving Michiru a hard time, complaiing about every fluffy dress offered, perhaps even attempting to claw her way out of a window and escape. She glanced to Sekkachi, hoping that perhaps she felt the same, but instead she appeared completely unphased. Bored and unphased.

               Hana was familiar enough with Sekkachi, of course, but to say that they were experienced with spending time alone together was vastly inaccurate. Hana only knew Sekkachi in the context of Rei and nothing more. Side by side unsupervised like this was new and unnerving. Twiddling her thumbs awkwardly, Hana finally asked, “So, do you intend to find a bridesmaid dress while you’re here?”

               Sekkachi nearly choked on her own spit with laughter. “Oh god, no!” she exclaimed. “If I’m lucky, Rei will let me get by without having to wear a dress at all.” She was certain that Rei knew better than to force her into being traditional. Of all the things Sekkachi was willing to do for Rei, that was not one of them.

               Before Hana had a chance to protest, Michiru came bounding out of the dressing room with a satisfied grin upon her face. Hana straightened her back, eyes wide in expectation. And then out came Rei, head drooped and hands clasped demurely. Hana gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Rei, sweetheart!”

               The first dress was, for lack of a better term, a marshmallow. The bodice was heavily bedazzled with blinding rhinestones, the neckline accentuating her breasts perhaps a little too much, and the chiffon skirt was so wide that Rei could barely fit through the doorway. Sekkachi’s face lit up at the ridiculousness of it all.

               “So, what do we think?” Michiru asked. It was clear that she was already full to bursting with pride.

               “You look so beautiful!” Hana enthused, restraining tears. “Just like a princess.” If she had to envision what her daughter should look like as a bride, this was pretty damn near close to it. Shimmering and shiny and ethereal.

               Michiru glanced to Sekkachi, encouraging her to express her own opinion on the gown. “I mean…” Sekkachi started. She tried her hardest not to cringe. She failed. “It’s pretty obvious Rei is uncomfortable as fuck” she admitted. Hana’s eyes widened both at the insult and the blunt delivery. “And really, this thing looks nothing like Rei. Nothing about her says ‘sparkly marshmallow.’ I give it two thumbs down.” Here, she emphasized with the appropriate hand gesture and an accompanying raspberry.

               Displeased, Michiru turned to Rei. “Well, you’re the bride. What do you think?”

               Rei paused for a moment, surveying her reflection in the mirror. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to lie…?” she asked slowly. Michiru’s face fell. She pointed to the dressing room and Rei immediately gathered her skirts and wobbled back to try on the next dress.

               After four more failed attempts, the whole group was beginning to lose faith. Michiru was clearly off the mark in her understanding of Rei’s tastes, and Hana and Sekkachi’s opinions could not be further from one another.

               “My god…” Rei muttered under her breath, staring now at herself in the most ridiculous, avant-garde thing she had ever seen. She was trying so hard to find reasons to love it. She kept coming up empty. “This is going to take forever, isn’t it?” she groaned.

               Michiru pursed her lips. “Well, so far we’ve tried something flashy, we’ve tried something artistic, we’ve tried the classic and the modern, and none of them have been right” she recounted.

               “They just don’t feel like…me” Rei replied. And after all, shouldn’t a wedding gown befit the bride herself? She didn’t want to just get married in anything. It needed to feel right.

               “Well, what does feel like you?” Michiru asked.

               Rei poked at the short hem of her balloon dress, tugged at the ribbons dangling from the corset front. “I don’t know” she admitted, defeatedly so. “I know what doesn’t feel right, but I can’t put my finger on what does.”

               “Well, I think you ought to wear something sweet, like a princess” Hana interjected. “That’s what feels right to me.”

               “Oh, give me a break!” Sekkachi groaned. “No, Rei needs something edgy, you know? She’s a modern day woman. She’s a fucking badass. She needs a dress that she can kick a man’s ass in.”

               Rei tossed her head back and dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. If anything, her mother and Sekkachi’s commentary throughout all of this was just making things ten times worse. She was steadily reaching the end of her rope. Whipping around, she glared at them and then shouted, “Alright, then, if you think you both know me so well then why don’t you guys go pick something?!”

               Hana and Sekkachi froze, glanced to one another, turned the thought over in their heads. Before they could say anything on the matter, Michiru stepped forward with a single clap. “Well, I think that’s a stupendous idea!” she exclaimed. She rushed over to the couch, urged Hana and Sekkachi to rise to their feet. “Why don’t you all go and survey the racks and come back with three dresses each for our bride. We’ll wait here until you’re done!”

               “Oh, no you don’t” Rei then said, glaring at Michiru. “I’m joining them.”

               “But where’s the fun in that?” Michiru argued, her voice unsteady with anxiety. There was a certain fury in Rei’s eyes now that she had never seen before, not even in the most vile of bridezillas. It was a fury far removed from the world of civilians. A shinobi’s fury.

               “I’m not going to sit around and let them do all the work for me” Rei insisted. She carefully stepped down from her pedestal and began toddling toward the wall of dresses, her own a little too tight for her to walk properly. “If they get to have a hand in my fate, then I want a say, too. After all, it’s my fucking wedding day and I’m the bride.”

               Michiru watched in paralyzed fear as Rei ripped through the racks, eyes hard and focused. She didn’t even know what she was looking for but she didn’t care. She’d find something. And if all else failed, she would be more than happy to just get married naked. She didn’t care. It was no longer worth the trouble.

               Sekkachi admittedly found Rei’s frustration amusing, to say the least. It was the exact brand of chaos she needed to make this hellscape a little more tolerable. As they met in the middle of one of the racks, Sekkachi tugged one of the dresses out and grinned maniacally. “Well, doesn’t this look familiar!” she exclaimed, holding it up. The mere sight of it gave Rei post-traumatic stress. The collar was stiff and white and shaped like the plastic cones they put on dogs at the vet’s office. The sleeves were the size of blimps. Lace and tacky fake pearls covered the entire corset and hem. The same exact dress from the antiques shop.

               “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little” Rei croaked, shoving it out of the way and suppressing laughter.

               “It’s following you, Rei!” Sekkachi laughed. “It’s trying to tell you that this is the dress. It’s fate!”

               “That’s not fate, I’m being fucking haunted is what it is” Rei replied, shaking her head. She turned back to the other dresses, trying to refocus.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes and tossed the abysmal gown to the wayside. “At least that dress has some creativity” she mused.

               “And this one doesn’t?” Rei asked, motioning to whatever she was currently wearing.

               “Hey, poodles and clowns deserve to live happily ever after, too!” Sekkachi jested. “Besides, at least it’s something. I mean, look at this shit.” Here, she pulled two dresses side by side off the racks. Both of them touted a sweetheart neckline, no straps or sleeves, and a fitted body down to a flared hem with iridescent pearl accents. “It’s like they’re not even fucking trying.”

               Rei shrugged. “I guess it’s just a popular design?”

               Sekkachi poked at the tags in the back, both of which crediting different designs. She shook her head in disdain. “I don’t get what the big deal is: they’re all the same fucking dress.”

               “That’s not entirely true!” Michiru interrupted with a restrained, closed-mouth chuckle. God, Rei was really beginning to hate this woman. She stalked nearer, lightly shoving Sekkachi out of the way as she held up both of the dresses herself. “You see, this one is glacier white with akoya pearls, while this one snow white with freshwater pearls. They couldn’t be any more different!”

               “Okay” Sekkachi scoffed, bugging her eyes out and pursing her lips incredulously. She fed Rei a look of amused insanity as she skirted around the woman to approach one of the other racks.

               By the time they were finished, Rei had a total of 12 more very different dresses to assess. Michiru insisted that Rei try on her own picks first—the styles of which were inconsistent at best and troubling at worst. The bridal consultant had hoped, at least, that this would give her a better sense of which direction she hoped to go toward.

               While each dress was beautiful in it’s own right, neither of them felt like Rei. She stared at her reflection with a look of disgust and disappointment at the third one, especially. “I really hoped that maybe this one would be it” she complained.

               “Well, what do you like about it?” Michiru asked.

               Rei shook her head. “I don’t know” she replied. “I thought maybe it would be a good fit for my body or something, but…I’m just uncomfortable.”

               Sekkachi groaned and sprawled out on the couch, shaking her head. “And here I was hoping that this would be quick and easy” she complained. Pursing her lips, she then shifted on the couch to dig around in her back pouch, producing a tiny metal flask. “Guess I’m gonna need this after all” she said, popping off the cap and taking a long swig.

               Rei whipped around, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, where the fuck did you get that from?!” she asked.

               Sekkachi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and replied coolly, “I figured if this was going to be as torturous as I expected, I’d need a little pick-me-up.”

               Rolling her eyes, Rei turned back around, afforded one more look to the dress, then shook her head and waddled back to the dressing room.

               At least all of Hana’s dresses exhibited some sense of consistency, but their lack of variation was perhaps taken too far. Each dress was far too simple with basic ballgown silhouettes and square necklines and capped sleeves. There were no adornments or bedazzling whatsoever—only a modest hint of lace here and there.

               “What do we think?” Michiru asked, glancing to Hana. Rei’s mother sat with bated breath, her hands clasped in front of her. She was clearly pleased with her own choices.

               “I think she looks beautiful!” Hana exclaimed. “Just how I’d imagine her on her wedding day.”

               “I-I don’t know…” Rei murmured. She turned this way and that, studying the drape of the fabric and the texture of the silk. “I mean, they’re pretty but I just…I don’t know, I feel kind of…uninspired.”

               Sekkachi nodded. “I think I’m gonna have to side with Rei on this” she mentioned. “They’re just too plain.”

               “So we’re thinking something a little more creative then?” Michiru asked.

               Sekkachi and Rei nodded in unison. “You know” the blue-haired kunoichi then said, “Whoever said Rei had to wear a white wedding dress, anyway? Maybe that’s the big issue here.”

               “Why wouldn’t she wear white?” Hana countered. “She’s getting married, not going to a cocktail party. All brides wear white.”

               “I mean, for what it’s worth” Sekkachi chuckled, “Do you really think she can even get away with wearing white on her wedding day? We all know her and Kakashi have fucked.”

               Hana’s face immediately went pale at the prospect. She had never considered her daughter a sexual being up until now, regardless of her enthusiasm for grandchildren. Frankly, it was something she never wanted to consider. The thought of Kakashi’s hands on her daughter’s body, naked and sweaty and writhing together…it was just too much. In one fluid motion, Hana reached across the couch and stole the flask from Sekkachi’s hands to take a long, desperate swig herself. Rei’s eyes widened in shock. She had never seen her mother drink alcohol so enthusiastically before.

               Sighing, Michiru straightened her blazer. “Well, then! If it’s creativity we want, I think I have just the thing.” She motioned for Rei to follow her and together they departed for the dressing room yet again.

               It only took one of Michiru’s options to convince Rei that this woman was completely unqualified to dress her. This one was more garish than the last with indescribable pompoms and a short, poofy skirt that, yet again, resembled a marshmallow. Ribbons hung down sloppily from the bodice and skirt’s hem like some sort of warped, second-grade school project jellyfish. It also, unfortunately, came with a terrible wide-brimmed hat lined with the same puffy pompoms and draped with poorly-cut tulle.

               ‘Now, this dress is a couture design straight from Yumegakure” Michiru explained, motioning to Rei with an expert flourish. “It might be a little out of your price range, but I’d say it’s worth it for such a high-end brand!”

                Sekkachi nearly gagged at the sight of it, restraining ridiculous laughter. “Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have started drinking after all” she choked out. She fished around in her back pouch for her medication, the bottle reading in large bold letters do not take with alcohol. “Just the sight of that thing I giving me indigestion” she muttered. She would just have to brave the overwhelming disgust.

               Frowning, Rei tore the hat off her head and tossed it across the room. It landed squarely atop one of the many nondescript mannequins, spinning around the head before settling crooked. “Alright, that’s it!” she shouted. She threw her hands up in surrender and grabbed Michiru’s clipboard. “I will try on one more dress, and only one more dress, and if that one doesn’t spark anything then fuck it, I’m getting married naked.” With a firm grip still on the clipboard, she dragged Michiru back to the dressing room with furious purpose. The woman chuckled at Hana and Sekkachi over her shoulder, silently certain she was about to meet her end.

               All of Sekkachi’s choices were far edgier and less traditional—a jumpsuit with a chiffon train, a form-fitting dress with a cowl-neck and thigh-high slit. The one that Rei picked out of all of them, however, was perhaps the most promising option of them all.

               After fifteen agonizing minutes, Michiru trudged out of the dressing room frazzled and fatigued and collapsed onto the couch beside Hana. “I think we’ve finally done it” she sighed. “I don’t know how, but we have.” With a lazy flourish of her hand, she signaled for Rei to step out into the light.

               The dress she wore now was simple but not plain, sexy but not slutty. It hugged Rei’s curves in all the right places and the deep sweetheart neckline accentuated her assets. It even had simple, long sleeves to perfectly mask her tattoo. Pearls dripped subtly down the bodice, flaring out into a loose, high-low skirt that was feminine but not unmanageable. For all intents and purposes, it was perfect.

               “Well?” Michiru asked anxiously. “How do you feel? Is it the one?”

               “It’s beautiful” Rei said, studying her figure in the mirror, “but…I don’t know.”

               “I think you look stunning” Hana cooed, an affectionate expression painting her face. It was not what she had dreamed of for her little girl, but she could tell that Rei wore this one well.

               Sekkachi smirked and whistled, adding, “I bet it’ll take all of Kakashi’s strength not to rip that right off of you.” Hana tried to ignore the snidely sexual remark, regardless of how uncomfortable it left her. Beaming with satisfaction, Sekkachi nudged Hana on the arm and jested, “See? I told you I knew her sense of style better than anyone else.” Hana pursed her lips and nodded slowly. If anything, perhaps this just proved how little she really did know about her daughter’s tastes. Or rather, about her daughter in general.

               Michiru seemed pleased with the positive feedback, as if she took all the credit for finding the perfect dress. “So?” she asked, turning to Rei. “Have we been successful here today? Are you saying yes to this dress?”

               Rei lingered on her reflection for a moment longer. It truly was a beautiful dress but…

               “I just…don’t feel that magic” Rei confessed slowly, sadly. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. “It’s a beautiful dress, and I love it, but…I don’t know, I just don’t have that feeling in the pit of my chest. I don’t feel like I’m going to cry. I don’t feel that magic.”

               Sekkachi cocked a brow, leaning forward. “Are you supposed to?” she asked. “Like, is that one of the requirements for this? I didn’t there was any big emotional investment involved here, just find the dress you like best and be done with it. Right?”

               “I don’t know” Rei sighed in defeat. “I always hear people talk about how they just, like, break down in tears when they find ‘the one’, you know? I thought it was supposed to be this amazing, magical moment where everything suddenly feels just right. I don’t know, maybe I’m just romanticizing everything or something, I just—”

               “No, no, you’re not romanticizing anything” Michiru interrupted. “I have outfitted thousands of brides in my career and they always find the perfect dress. Maybe you just need to try it with a veil? I’ll go get one and we’ll see what you think then!” Before Rei could protest, Michiru had ducked around a corner to ruffle through their stock of accessories. When she returned, she fixed a simple veil right at the base of Rei’s ponytail. The chiffon laid awkwardly over the fluff of her hair, trailing down the small of her back. “How about now? Do you feel anything?” Michiru asked, recoiling and motioning for Rei to view her reflection.

               Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the sight of herself, but not out of understanding or acceptance. She still didn’t feel anything. By now, she must have exhausted the entire boutique’s stock. A sinking feeling lodged itself in the pit of her chest—this was all for nothing. Her dress, the dress she was destined for, was not here. It couldn’t be. But Rei could sense the disappointment in the air. It hung heavy, almost palpable, and a wave of guilt washed over her. She turned this way and that, shifting in the dress—which was far too tight around the waist, anyway, but she didn’t dare mention this. She was running out of options. She could settle. She could learn to love it. She could learn to fall in love with it.

               Shaking her head, Rei turned back around to her entourage and whispered, “I think I can see myself getting married in this. I think this would work just fine.” She forced a smile, smoothing the dress out over her stomach and toying with the featured pearls.

               Michiru beamed, clapping her hands together in delight. “I knew the veil would fix things! It always does!” she exclaimed, glancing to Hana and Sekkachi over her shoulder. Turning back to Rei, then, she asked with glorious purpose, “So, Rei, have you made your final decision? Are you finally saying yes to this dress?”

               Chewing her lower lip, Rei nodded slowly. “I think I am.” Her audience collectively sighed in relief, cheering at having finally found the dress. And really, if nothing else, it felt good to have finally made a decision. This was one last thing for her to worry about. The dress, a true icon of any wedding, had finally been chosen.

               Hana rose to her feet, extending her arms out for a hug from her daughter. Smiling, Rei carefully stepped down off the pedestal but as she bent down to gather her skirts, she was paralyzed. A sudden tearing sound echoed through the room. Hana’s face fell. Michiru paled. Sekkachi suppressed hysterical laughter.

               “Oh, god…” Rei whispered in horror. Her hand slowly shifted to her back, feeling for the rip in the fabric. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe it was only a little tear. Maybe it was easily fixable. Certainly this wasn’t the first time this had happened to a bride, nor would it be the last. As her fingers traced the back of her dress, however, it became all too clear that this was not fine. The dress had practically ripped apart all the way from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Rei’s face turned beet red. Smiling sheepishly, she turnd to Michiru and croaked out, “How much did this one cost again…?”

               Michiru blinked, replying with a weak, “Seven thousand dollars.” In that exact moment, Rei immediately felt like she was going to be sick. Without a moment of hesitation, she surged forward and stole the flask from Sekkachi’s hand, knocking back the rest of her booze.

               By the time they left, the shop was already preparing to close for the day. The setting sun painted the sky in rich red and orange and pink. Mothers called their children, sweaty and red-faced, inside after a long day of play. What began as a mere two-hour appointment transformed into a five-hour catastrophe. Rei, Hana, and Sekkachi were tired and hungry and defeated. And more importantly, they did not leave with a wedding dress.

               “That’s it!”Rei exclaimed as they slipped back into Kaminoki. Yuzu had since gone home. Standing behind the register instead was none other than Grandma Teiko. The old woman arched a brow curiously as Rei fell back against one of the bookshelves and lamented, “I’m officially getting married ass naked!”

               “Rough day?” Teiko chuckled.

               Sekkachi trudged past her and made a beeline straight for the shop’s bathroom, muttering as she went, “You have no fucking clue.”

               Hana sighed and shook her head, rubbing her temples as she approached the counter. “We must have tried on every dress in Konoha and still, none of them were right” she complained. Rei had to admit her overexaggeration was not appreciated.

               “Oh?” Teiko asked. “Is that so?”

               “You know, I blame modern wedding traditions” Rei replied, a sour expression on her face. “Everyone these days either wants to look like a big, fat pastry or like a slinky lounge singer. It’s like every ounce of class has just gone right out the fucking window!”

               Sekkachi propped the bathroom door open for only a moment to shout back, “As if you know anything about class!”

               Frustrated, Rei yelled in response, “As if you do!”

               “Girls, please try to calm down” Hana begged. All of this was giving her a migraine. That sip of alcohol from earlier was not helping her case. For a moment, she even regretted ever doing this but then felt immensely guilty at the thought. She had only wanted to do something nice for her daughter. To create a bonding experience. Instead, all she received was an absolute disaster.

               Teiko hummed softly as she hobbled around the counter, reaching for Rei’s hand. Despite her confusion, Rei did not protest. “Come on, I think I have an idea” Teiko murmured. A sly smile touched her lips, a knowing twinkle glinting in her eye, as she guided Rei upstairs.

               Rei followed Teiko into her bedroom, struck by an immediate sense of nostalgia. The faint scent of lavender, the floral duvet, the various perfume bottles on the antique dresser; they all warped Rei straight back to childhood days curling up in her grandmother’s lap as she read her bedtime stories and quelled anxiety and depression alike. She watched as Teiko struggled to pull a large trunk out from under her bed. Rei knew better than to interfere and try to help. Before she unlocked it, however, Teiko glared up at Rei and commanded, “Cover your eyes, girl.” Rei hesitated for only a moment and then did as she was told.

               “Grandma, what is all of this about?” she asked. She listened close to the snap of the lock, the swish of fabrics and knock of knick-knacks as the old woman rustled around inside the case.

               Teiko pursed her lips as she worked dutifully. “Do you remember when you were a little girl, and you went to Konoha Matsuri with Kakashi?” she asked. Rei furrowed her brows as the memories came to her in hazy splotches. She was only three years old, but she remembered the colorful lights and the boom of fireworks in her chest. She remembered the little dog figurine that Kakashi had won her and the way she kept dropping her gyoza on the ground. Kakashi went back to order more dumplings for her each time, ultimately resorting to feeding her himself in an effort to prevent even more disaster. He sacrificed so that she would not miss out on her favorite food, even at the expense of his own growing cold. And then Rei remembered the dress.

               That afternoon, after lamenting that she had nothing to wear, Rei was presented with a lavish kimono, an heirloom, straight from Grandma Teiko’s trunk. The ornate fabric was sleek and soft, the colors vibrant and cool. Nostalgia aside, Teiko did not hesitate to resize the dress to perfectly fit Rei’s tiny toddler body.

               A sudden fear washed over Rei as she suddenly understood the situation at hand. “Grandma, wait, no—” she protested, nearly peeking through her fingers. Grandma Teiko caught her in an instant, slapping her forearm with her cane.

               “Not yet, girl” she snapped. “You’ll open your eyes when I tell you to.” Rei muttered a soft, despondent sorry as she tried to maintain composure. She couldn’t possibly imagine the specifics but mch like the way a rain cloud rolls across the sky, she could feel something large and unbearable growing ever nearer. Something she knew she would not be able to accept.

               And then Grandma Teiko was finished. Rei heard her slide the curtains back, saw the array of fresh light from behind her eyelids. The tapping of the old woman’s cane echoed as she stepped nearer. Grandma Teiko wrapped her shaky, wrinkled old hands around Rei’s wrists then and gently moved her hands away from her face. “Now you can open your eyes” she said.

               Rei blinked, taking a moment to adjust to the light, before comprehending what lay before her. Srpawled across the bed was a stunning white kimono, sleek and satin. Beautiful pink camellias, dainty baby’s breath, and delicate cherry blossoms danced across the fabric. It was not nearly as ornate as what the noble clans wore but what it lacked in extravagance, it made up for in both grace and sentimentality.

               “This was the kimono that I got married in so many years ago” Teiko explained. Rei gently caressed the fabric, gentle and tender as if she was afraid it might crumble beneath her touch. Teiko paused for only a moment to watch, her heart swelling. And then, smiling softly, she said, “I want you to try it on.”

               Rei’s head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. She searched her grandmother’s face for even the slightest hint of disingenuity, that this was all just some sick joke. When she found none, she glanced back to the kimono and shook her head. “Grandma, I can’t. That’s just…I can’t do that” she protested. She couldn’t quite understand why, but the prospect terrified her.

               Grandma Teiko, however, would not hear a word of it. “Of course you can, girl” she countered. Before Rei could say anything more, the old woman began helping her get changed. She gently tugged Rei’s shirt over her head, smoothing it out across the bed beside the kimono. She encouraged Rei to remove her pants, and she did so slowly, methodically. Procrastinating.

               Exposed before the old woman, Rei felt much like she had earlier in the dressing room with Michiru. But Teiko was not a stranger. She knew Rei deeply, knew of her scars and her struggles alike. Within that knowing came a very different sense of fear. Her stomach growled softly. Teiko arched a brow but said nothing of it. Rei wrapped her arms around her waist, attempted to shrink herself. She refused to look at herself in the mirror. The thick, anxious air weighed heavily on her shoulders.

               Grandma Teiko seemed completely unphased by all of this. She simply moved Rei’s arms out of the way here and there, as if yet again Rei was nothing more than a dress-up doll. In a way, the entire act felt almost nostalgic. She thought of when Rei was a child, too young to dress herself, and Teiko would take up the responsibility. Rei always knew exactly what she wanted to wear, or rather what she was comfortable wearing. When Hana suggested a dress, Rei chose pants and an old t-shirt. Something she could move in, something unisex and uninhibiting. Funny how even back then, Teiko saw so much of herself reflected in Rei. And that could not have been truer now.

               Time crept by slowly as Hana waited in the shop below. She needed answers. She needed to know what was going on, and that Rei had not spiralled even further into her own insanity. The toilet flushed and Sekkachi trudged out of the bathroom, face dewy with sweat. She froze when she noticed Hana, eyes manic and desperate. “What…? What is it?” Sekkachi asked.

               Hana merely wrung her hands together, glanced this way and that, and then grabbed Sekkachi’s hands and pulled her upstairs with her. Sekkachi grumbled under her breath, muttering something about how she hadn’t even washed her hands yet.

               Unsure and anxious, Hana crept steadily up the stairs to peer into the old woman’s room. It was then that Sekkachi understood the true weight of the situation. She followed suit and then they saw it: Rei.

               She stood there in the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her and head downcast. The evening sunlight poured through the windows and bathed her in an ethereal glow. Rei bit the inside of her cheek as she slowly turned to the doorway, lifted her gaze, and asked, “Well? What do you think?”

               Hana immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. Of all the dresses her daughter had tried on thus far, this was in an entire league of it’s own. If her ideal vision of her daughter as a bride was hazy before, seeing her now had clarified that image tenfold. “You look beautiful” Hana choked, trying to restrain herself. “Like a true bride.”

               Even Sekkachi could hardly wipe the smile off her face. “Now that looks fitting for Kakashi’s wife.”

               “You really think so?” Rei asked, tucking her long bangs back behind her ear. She glanced to Grandma Teiko for reassurance.

               The old woman gave a single nod before motioning to the full-length mirror on the other wall. “See for yourself” she said.

               As Rei turned to view her reflection, her breath hitched in her throat. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, muttering a muffled, “Oh my god…” Her eyes grew glossy and an incredulous little laugh bubbled up from deep within her chest. For the longest time, Rei had never considered herself bridal material. She yearned to be a wife, yes, but when she tried to envision her wedding day, when she tried to imagine herself walking down the aisle, she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t picture herself amid the flowers and lace, embodying such a traditional role. It didn’t feel fitting. She had consequently assumed that perhaps she was never really meant to be someone’s wife at all. That she had just romanticized the idea, envisioned someone else’s path rather than her own. The distance between her and Kakashi over the years only further cemented this idea in her head.

               And yet now here she was. Now her and Kakashi were in love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he yearned for her to become his wife. Looking at herself now, she finally saw everything slowly come together. She could see herself walking down that aisle, taking Kakashi’s hand in hers, and vowing to love one another until the end of their days. Without a doubt, this was the dress.

               Yuruganai huffed and adjusted his glasses on his face as he stepped out of his office for the first time all afternoon. The sight of Hana and Sekkachi idling in the doorway only further irked him. The hallway was far too narrow for people to loiter like this. Frustrated, he stalked forward and asked, “What’s going on here?”

               Hana simply looked back at him over her shoulder, a soft smile on her teary face. She could not restrain herself any longer. She took her husband’s hand in hers and, confused as he was, pulled him nearer. “We’ve found the dress” she croaked.

               Yuruganai arched a brow, leaning into the room to look for himself. The moment he saw his daughter, it all became clear to him. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. Rei was like he had never seen her before. He was, undeniably, speechless. Teiko grinned back at him knowingly as she caught his eyes welling up, but the fear of being known was far too much for him to handle. He quickly wiped his eyes and shook away the emotion. “Well, a hand-me-down dress is going to save me lots of money on this wedding, anyway” he muttered before turning and retreating back to his office. He slammed the door rather loudly and Hana could tell that deep down, he was losing it. Perhaps he had a heart, after all.

               Teiko hobbled up behind her granddaughter and placed her hands firmly on her shoulders. “If you like it so much, Rei, then it’s yours” she smiled.

               “Oh god, Grandma, b-but I can’t!” Rei protested, turning to face the old woman. Marrying in her old wedding dress just didn’t feel right, like she was stealing a part of Teiko’s past. She could never live with the hole it would leave in her history.

               Teiko swatted at the air and made a sour face. “Nonsense, girl!” she countered. “Do I look like I have any use for it now?” She motioned to her body, old and hunched and fat, then patted Rei on the shoulder. “You wear it better than I ever could, anyway.”

               Rei afforded her reflection one last glance, smoothing the dress out over her stomach and adjusting the sleeves. Another sob caught in her throat as the reality of the situation truly settled in. A tender smile touched her lips as se reached back to take Grandma Teiko’s hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. This was it. The first day of the rest of her life was rapidly approaching. She was getting married, and she was going to be Kakashi Hatake’s wife. A soft smile touched her lips as she whispered softly, “Thank you, Grandma. For everything.”

[nevermore-ocs]

Protective

Author’s Note: 7.3K words of a smut fic of my character, Internal and @flowerthornsart‘s character, Codec!!

Internal snarled to himself, the smell of the common dreg of the undercity of Daxton made him gag, walking rotten meat slabs that wore disheveled clothes they were to him. And now, the fact that Drake's great plan of getting information about their youngest brother, Blood, from these stains was working, he wasn't going to hear the end of it. He leaned against a wall, silently watching the discussion of the eldest vampire conversing with a masked man dressed in a long sleeve shirt, tattered and worn jeans, and sneakers coated in dirt. "And you're positive they were here?" Drake's voice rang through Internal's ears, "Yeah man they were here, that big bitch Blade and his little vampire sidekick were here like a week ago," even his voice sounded disgusting, it was rough to the ears like he's been smoking every day for the last three years. "Thank you for your information," Drake reached into one of his suit pockets and pulled out a wad of cash held by a small rubber band and handed it to the man who boisterously unbounded it and counted the bills with a wide-spread grin. He took another glance at Drake, putting the money away in his pocket. "'Ey I meant to ask, where's that cute girl that comes with y'all?" That's when Internal's attention was caught at full force. "How do you mean?" Drake could sense Internal's quick-growing anger, he had to quietly put a hand up to halt his hot-headed brother. "That cyborg girl, dude! The one with the helmet? She's fine as Hell, hehe!" Drake had to take a glance over his shoulder at Internal, he was fuming, his now unsheathed claws were slicing into the decaying wallpaper behind him, he was growling lowly to himself, drool was cascading down his chin. "Sucks how she didn't come with y'all, I would have LOVED to show her a good time, you know what I mean?" The man snickered, Drake opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by Internal's boots thudding against the creaking hardwood floor due to him stomping up to the two, however, he was halted yet again by Drake who outstretched an arm across his brother's chest, as security. Internal hunched over, he was baring his teeth, his eyes were wide and his pupils were in slits, and a rough, snarling growl emitted deep from his throat. "Drake..." Internal finally spoke, his voice laced with a dangerous amount of venom, it was practically dripping out of his mouth. "Yes, Internal?" Drake asked, already knowing what the question was going to bed. "Can I eat now?" The feral vampire hissed through his gritted sharp teeth, and after being mute for a moment or two, Drake lowered his arm back down to his side, freeing him. "You may." It was like the leash was taken off of a dangerous dog, Internal charged forward at the man with unnatural speed and a hissing roar, there was a loud sound of his teeth piercing through the flesh of the man's neck, right into the jugular, he dug his sharp, pointed, dagger-like teeth deep into his neck flesh in a ferocious bite. His jaw locked, the blood from the man's arterial vein sprayed thickly in Internal's mouth like a dense red mist and as the feral vampire heard the man's gurgling pleas for help, and his feeble, weak attempts to push him off of him, Internal sharply turned his head to the side, the man's throat was torn clear out, the blood spray continued heavily right onto Internal's face before he dropped the man's now limp body down onto the wooden, creaky floor. "Well that was-" Drake paused when Internal knelt to the body and started to use his claws to slice through the man's chest cavity, blood splattered in numerous pools around the fresh corpse, the feral vampire took a hold of the body's ribcage and with a grunt, and with a quite a show of strength, he splintered bones and broke them, tossing the pieces away to the side sloppily. Internal's mouth was practically frothing at the invading smell of human organs and that's when his stomach growled loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at Drake who gave one nod and Internal's feast began. "Violent." Drake finished his thought.

"You left the lungs?" Drake questioned, counting in his head while his fingers flicked through the dollar bills from before, when all was counted for, he folded the money back up, clasped them all together with that rubber band from before, and slid the payment back into his suit pocket. "He was a smoker, I could fuckin' smell it off of him. I'm surprised how you didn't." Standing up with the man's liver in his hand, Internal brought the organ up to his mouth and dug his teeth into it, tearing a bite out and he easily chewed and swallowed the meat, he slammed the door open with his elbow and as the scents of outside filled both of their noises, in which Internal scowled and Drake was already mapping out their destination in his head, he started to walk in that very direction with Internal next to him, shoulder to shoulder. 10 minutes of undisturbed silence, Drake spoke up, "Should we talk about what got you so angry in there?" The question was brought up, Internal stopped himself in pre-bite and he lowered his hand, his eyes narrowed somewhat and they drifted to the side, and his cheeks sported a very light dusting of pink. He didn't want to admit it out loud, he wouldn't if Drake wasn't there to witness the whole thing. "What's there to talk about?" Internal was already sounding hostile and defensive, which his brother should have expected, that was never new. Drake placed a kind hand on his brother's shoulder, "Internal, I know you did it to protect Codec's honor, there's nothing wrong wit-" Internal snatched his shoulder away from his brother's grasp. He tossed the organ from before to the side and turned towards Drake with a rumbling growl, "You don't breathe a fuckin' word about what happened tonight to her, ya understand me?! So help me, Drake, I'll beat your face in so fuckin' deep, they're not even gonna be able to tell we're related anymore, ya got it?!" Drake's gaze and overall body language was unfaltering, he barely moved an inch at Internal's outburst and his ruby-red orbs bored right into Internal's matching ones. "I won't. Though you can't beat yourself if she asks you what happens, lie to her if you want, but she'll be touched by what you did." Drake was looking at Internal's back now as the feral vampire pressed onward towards their destination, the feral vampire paused mid-step and truly thought it over. Could he tell her? He could tell her what he did and leave it at that, it probably wouldn't go to anything else, anyway. If anything, he was going to get a teasing from Codec about him being 'a big softie' around her. "...fine, whatever. Can we get there already?" Nodding, Drake used his unnatural speed to appear right next to his brother again, he read Internal like a book, he knew he wasn't used to these feelings, let alone towards a human, something that Internal despised with a burning passion ever since the attack but Codec was different for him. He's caught Internal smiling around her, yes they teased each other and butted heads, but it had a playful twist to it, for God's sake, Codec's poked Internal's nose when he was right up in her face with his fangs bared at full extension, it was different. Drake wasn't used to it and he knew for sure Internal wasn't. Their walk back towards the hotel they were staying at with Codec remained silent the entire time back, Drake's eyes were fixated forward for the most part but he couldn't help but take the occasional glance over towards Internal, he was staring directly at the ground, his arms were crossed firmly over his chest, even his claws were digging into the fabric of his jacket. He wanted to get to their room and relax, blow off steam, even if that might take the rest of the night and a midnight hunt to do so. "Here," When they were standing at the doors of the hotel, Drake pulled out a handkerchief from his front pocket, "Wipe your face, and hands, good thing you didn't get it on your clothes...this time." Internal gripped the rag and yanked it from Drake's grip and he did just that, he cleaned his hands off and then his mouth, the red liquid stained the white fabric a reddish-pink color. Without saying anything else after, Internal tossed the cloth back to his brother who caught with ease, balling it up, he slipped it into his slacks' pocket. "Can I go in now or do I have to fuckin' dress like ya too?" The feral vampire spat, earning an eye roll from Drake who went up to the double glass doors and he took hold of one of the handles. "No, but you could have manners," he pulled the door open and motioned to go inside with his free hand. "You could say thank you for this."

Even the elevator ride up to the suite was quiet, and again, Drake was looking forward and Internal's eyes were locked onto the carpeted flooring of the elevator. When the two metal doors squeaked open, Internal took a firm grip on one of Drake's arms which instantly caught the attention of the eldest brother. "Remember. Not a fuckin' word." The feral vampire's fangs bared ever so slightly but his mouth closed again when Drake put his open hand up in defense. "I promise, not a word, Internal, I won't say anything to her." Drake fixed his sleeve after Internal let him go, he did the same with his tie and his lapel to his liking. "If she asks you, you get yourself out of it, you either tell her or lie, whichever." Walking out first, Drake pulled out their room key from one of his inner suit pockets and the two approached the corresponding suite. Sliding it into the electrical lock, Internal impatiently shoved the door open, and walked in, "Hey there you guys are, how'd the meeting go?" Codec, pulling herself out of maintenance on her robotic arm, she watched Internal go to the main bedroom of the suite. "It went fine," Internal muttered too quickly for her liking, and she especially knew something was up when Internal went into the bedroom, took a hold of the tinted sliding glass door that separated the living room and the bedroom, and slammed it shut so hard, the door shook. Blinking rather confused, it even showed on her helmet, Codec faced Drake. "What the Hell happened? I said one thing and he's pissed off already!" Codec stood up from the couch, "I can't...exactly tell you, Codec," Drake saw Codec cross her arms, which easily meant she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Drake, what happened? Seriously, I know he can be a real hot head but usually, he screams at us, and then he's fine, this is different! What's going on?" Codec couldn't hide it, but there was worry evident in her voice, she cared about Internal a lot; she would never admit that aloud and could never bring herself to do that, she was far too stubborn for that and she even knew that. With a sigh, Drake raked his fingers through his messy hair and took one more look over at the shut door with the frosted glass, then he looked back at Codec. "I promised him, but, I know him. He was truly bothered by what happened with the contact today. That man said some less than...appropiate things about-" "Blood?" "You." That certainly caught Codec off guard, "What? Oh God, I don't even wanna know but, what did he say?" She couldn't help herself but turn her head towards the door once more, she could see Internal's infuriated silhouette grabbing what appeared to be a pillow or blanket off of the bed and he threw it against the wall. "He said sexual things, disgusting things about taking you and making you feel good," she practically gagged at those words, she certainly looked disgusted. "However, Internal...snapped. He lunged at the human and killed him on the spot, he fed, of course, but he did it out of your honor, you weren't there to protect yourself and Internal wasn't having it." Codec's eyes gradually widened with surprise at Drake's retelling of the night's earlier events, she was used to Internal being violent but she was surprised by this, and touched, this was so out of character for him. Not the violent stuff, of course, but the whole thing of just protecting her name when she wasn't even there. "Should I, um, should I talk to him?" She was glad that her helmet was covering it, but her face was extremely red, the thought of Internal protecting her was definitely on her mind, she couldn't get it out of it, "I think you should, calm him down, it's the easiest thing for you to do when he's like this, just, be careful is all." Receiving a smile from Drake, Codec returned it with her small one, and the eldest vampire went over towards the couch and took a seat in the middle, crossing one leg over the other as he finally started to relax. Codec, with little hesitance, went up to the glass door, she gazed inward and saw the shadow of Internal's form sitting on the bed, hunched forward, he was probably steaming still but luckily he was sitting down now so he couldn't cause too much damage at the moment. She wrapped her hand around the handle and inhaled deeply. She held it for just a moment or two before breathing out through her mouth and she pushed the door open, "Internal?" She spoke up softly, stepping through the open door, she let it slide carefully and quietly behind her, now it was just the two of them. Internal knew she was in there now but he didn't look at her yet, he was leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him, his coat and undercoat was stripped off of him so it left a tank-top, his jeans, and boots, it looked like he tried to get comfortable but was still too angry to do so. "Vallen?" When Internal heard his real name flow from Codec's lips with that soft tone to it, that's when his eyes finally decided to slowly drift over towards her. "He told you, didn't he?"

When Internal read Codec's mind, she made her way to his side and she sat down next to him, her hands resting on her lap. "Yeah, yeah he did," that blush was coming back to his cheeks and it felt so odd to him, he wasn't used to the feelings and thoughts that he got whenever she was around, he acted differently around her, the teasing and usually vile words were playful, like flirting. God, he was even more handsy with her, like he'd push her helmet down her head further whenever he was done with her teasing, or whenever she won a round of them going back and forth and she was the same way, being handsy with him, hers usually included taking his coat from him when he least expected it, Hell, she's even gotten him to purr and he hasn't done that in a LONG time. It would make sense why he defended her, even if the feral vampire would deny it. He was just as stubborn as she was. "So, what about it?" He didn't mean for it to sound as mean as it was, but he was getting defensive all over again and he was going to move but Codec placed her hand on his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "First off, I wanna say thank you. I wasn't even there and you killed some asshole for me, I-thank you," she smiled up at Internal and the sight of Codec's face flushed with a smile made her look so precious in his eyes, it made his blush worsen. "Yeah, yeah, so fuckin' what?!" He grumbled, and then she giggled, and that made his face catch on fire. "You are a softie aren't you?~ But, seriously, Vallen, I appreciate what you did for me," Internal had to process what was happening, she felt like she had moved closer to him, her hand had moved down to his forearm and was holding it tenderly, "You didn't have to do it, you know? He was just some dirtbag who-" Internal stood up abruptly, "Are ya kiddin' me, Codec? Yes, I fuckin' did! The shit that, that fucker said, it was fuckin' disgustin'! And ya weren't there to stop it yourself, so I fuckin' killed him and fed!" Internal was pacing back and forth in front of Codec, he was pissed just picturing how scummy and shallow that guy looked, a copy cat in the undercity, if anyone else thought like that about her, he was going to feed a lot there. "Ya deserve better than some fucker who doesn't even deserve to mention ya talkin' about ya like that, okay?" The feral vampire's gaze fixated on the ground again, his face, even the tips of his good and torn ears were a blazing red too, "Vallen..." Codec was, beyond touched, she felt like she lost her voice, she heard her heart pounding away in her ears, she didn't expect Internal to ever talk like this to her, but she, she loved it, it made her eyes go wide and her face turn as red as his. "So, yeah, there ya go." He was about to sit down, but Codec's metallic hand going up to his chest paused his motions and he watched as she stood up from her seated position, her hands went up to her helmet, the digital eyes on the glass visor of it turned off when she slipped the helmet off of her head and she used a hand to fluff up some of her lilac-colored hair. She gazed up at him and her eyes locked onto his despite the uneven scar the took up the entire upper half of her face and Internal smiled, it was a real one, he never thought she looked bad or ugly whenever she had her helmet off, he truly loved seeing her without her helmet on, it was such a nice change from her wearing it pretty much 24/7 out of her insecurities that he wished she didn't have. "I'm being serious, I'm not trying to get under your skin or some shit like that I'm, I'm thankful for that."

It was like the rest of the world just faded away to Internal and he was sure the same happened for Codec, her pouring her heart like that out to him after his little outburst. All he could hear is his heartbeat pounding steadily away in his ears and how tuned his advanced hearing was, he could take in Codec's too and hers was just as bad as his. Both sets of eyes were darting around the room to try and focus on something else other than the person right in front them, the room was drenched with silence so thickly, nobody knew what to say right now and neither one of them dared to look at the other person, but after numerous failed attempts from both sides, Internal's ruby red orbs bored right into Codec's bright blue ones, his next action surprised himself. It was like he blacked out, but when he came to his senses, his arms were wrapped around Codec and she was held tight and close to his chest, there was a feeling of protectiveness in his embrace, how tight he was holding her. It was like he never wanted to let her go, he was even growling lightly to himself at the utter thought of what that guy would have done if Codec did show up to the meeting with them. If she did, and that guy had tried anything or even made a move closer to her, he would have killed him sooner and slower, to make him feel every single claw dig and rip through his flesh. "Vallen?" Codec's voice had a slight stutter like she was nervous to get her next words out and hearing that made Internal's voice do the same, "Yeah?" He wasn't sure where this was going to go next but how she was leaned against his chest and he could feel her hands moving from his back to his sides and waist, he had a feeling and he wanted it more than anything else in the world right now because nothing else mattered other than her and him in the same room. Her human and cybernetic hands maneuvered themselves from his sides to his chest, she grabbed at the fabric of his tank top, right at the dipped hem of it. "Come here, you dork~" Taking a firm grip of his tank top's hem, she pulled him down to her level, her lips collided against his in a passionate kiss, drawing a surprised but muffled grunt from Internal in the process. His eyes were wide as saucers, at the action out of nowhere, he's probably only ever daydreamt about this, he never expected it to happen, but it took a few moments and his eyes drifted, and they shut tight. He leaned into the kiss further, almost knocking Codec off of her feet if it weren't for one of his arms being thrown around her waist and keeping her held close to him. Their hands grasped at each other's bodies, Codec's had reached up behind Internal's head and she threaded her fingers through his dark red tresses took a handful of them, the other gripped at his shoulder, her digits digging into his skin ever so slightly. Internal's hands took almost selfish handfuls of her hips and backside, he felt her body fill his palms perfectly and he squeezed where his hands were positioned at, making her gasp out in between their tongues sliding and pressing against one another, allowing the feral vampire to lean forward and practically shove his tongue deep within her mouth, eliciting a breathless, muffled moan from her.

Exploring Codec's mouth with his tongue with such a burning desire, their teeth clashed together during the restless lip-lock, her hand at his head gripped and pulled somewhat on his hair, pulling a deep, suppressed growl from that was so sensual, it rocked through her whole body and made her tremble. Her thighs pressed up together and Internal took notice of it. Slowly retracting his longer than human tongue from her mouth, there was a thin line of saliva that stretched in between their open, panting mouths and it broke when he licked his lips. Hurriedly, he slid his arms down from her waist and placed his hands on the undersides of her thighs, easily hoisting her up and taking just a few steps, he carefully and gently, of course, threw her onto the bed. "Hmf-! How do I weigh like nothing to-" Codec's words were abruptly taken from her mouth at the tantalizing sight of Internal stripping his tank-top off himself and she got a full show of his toned torso on display, how scars were dusted here and there on both his front and back, her thoughts were screaming at her to just touch him already, more than she already was. "Because ya don't," Internal shot back with a chuckle, tossing the black tank-top away to the side since was it unnecessary at the moment and he climbed onto the bed, hovering above her, his hands planted on the bed at her sides and he grinned down at her, showing those dangerously sharp teeth of his. "And don't act like I didn't see ya gawkin' at me just a second ago~" He purred, "S-Shut up!" She turned her head to the side as an attempt to hide her flushed face, crossing her arms below her bust, but as she laid her head to the right, she revealed her neck as a price, and Internal saw the exposed area. With a soft chuckle, he leaned down and licked a long stripe up her neck from her collarbone to her jaw, drawing a shivering moan from her mouth, her hands also shot back up to his shoulders and back, gripping and holding onto him however she could. He locked his lips onto a certain spot, sucking at the small area and he ran his tongue over it numerous times too, he was so tempted to bite, his teeth were even grazing her skin. "A-Are you, hnh, gonna bite me?~" She breathed out, "Pull me closer I just might~" He responded, almost in a challenging way, his eyes even met hers again to further press it. Going over the dare put in front of her, she guided her hand back up to his head and pushed him more into her neck, he wasn't expecting that, but he wasn't complaining either. Leaning back up, he grinned, brandishing those fangs of his, even more so by running his tongue across the white, smooth surface and the sight of it practically set her face ablaze.

"Okay, well first, these are coming off~" Internal, initially, reached towards her to strip her of her clothes but she lightly batted them away, "Ah, ah, you're gonna rip them, you," she poked the tip of his nose, "feral cat," he narrowed his eyes after rolling them, but he listened to her wishes, albeit he was getting extremely impatient when he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey I didn't rip my top, did I?!" Codec playfully stuck her tongue out at him, proceeding to strip herself right in front of her after her bit of taunting. Internal couldn't help but watch, his eyes were drinking up the sight of her body becoming more and more exposed, her breasts gently falling into place when her shirt came off, she unbuckled her belt and slipped it from her waist, and then her shorts were slid off next. It wasn't too long before she was completely nude in front of him, he saw her robotic leg and arm were connected to her human body, it was honestly a flawless connection, how smooth the rest of her looked to the touch, he was aching to touch her already and while he was sitting there, he could sense her self consciousness, how an arm was draped over her bosom, her thighs were pressed somewhat together and her other arm was across her stomach like she was hugging herself. "Oh no," Internal growled, moving his hand quicker than her eyes could pick up, he gathered her wrists together in it, he pinned her arms above her head, his free hand pressed against the mattress as like before, "Yer not hidin' anything from me. Yer fuckin' beautiful, I hope ya know that, and if ya think I give a shit about any marks or anythin' like that, yer fuckin' wrong," She felt her heart get filled with love all over again, her face was just on fire, it certainly felt like it, she truly didn't expect him to ever speak like that to her but how touched she was just tripled from the amount before. "Aren't you a flatterer?~ That means a lot though, Vallen, thank you~" Leaning up, only a little though given her pinned position, he saw her attempt to come closer to him, so he leaned down to meet her in the middle, she, at first, pecked the tip of his nose. She giggled and he chuckled before the two of them met in a kiss again, their mouths sliding against another, his tongue swiped across Codec's bottom lip, and with little to no hesitation, her mouth opened and his tongue returned to her mouth, slipping around and grinding up against hers. His grip on her wrists loosened until she was freed again, her arms hooked around his neck, and his hand from her wrists traveled downward from above her, to her shoulder, and then to her chest where he cupped one of her breasts, his tuned ears easily picking up a mute moan from her mouth. He kneaded her breast, squeezing gently and rubbing the mound in a slow, tender, circling motion, he could feel her nipple hardening against his palm, so he focused on that now, of course. Lifting his hand, he caught her nipple in between his index finger and thumb, pinching the hardened nub and he rolled it carefully, even pulling on it too. He could feel her body twitching, moan after moan that emitted from her just got swallowed in their mouths.

Breaking the kiss off for, Codec's face was flushed a bright red, her eyes were closed, her head was tossed to the side and buried in the pillows while she steadily panted, her hands moving from his back and down to his biceps where she gripped him, "Ya like it when I focus on these, huh?~" He purred, giving her breast a gentle squeeze to signal what he meant. He watched her nod, and when he saw that, he adjusted himself. Putting himself in between her legs with his crotch pressed right up against hers, he used his free hand at first to hike her legs around his waist and he let her tighten them around him, to hold onto him as tight as she wanted. Leaning down, his tongue flicked across one of her nipples, and she gasped out lightly at the feel of the wetness going across her like that. Opening his mouth, he took the nub into his mouth and started to suck on it, his teeth grazing over the risen flesh while his free hand held and tenderly rubbed and kneaded her other breast, he hummed against her skin, sending jolt after jolt of pleasure through her too. All Codec could do was just lay back and enjoy, her fingers were threaded in his hair again, gripping it, her free hand took a handful of the sheet they were laying on, her pants were getting quite breathless, "Ahhnn~ Vallen, tha-that's so good~ Mmmnnhff~" She gasped out, much to his pleasure, her voice was addicting so covered in pleasure and want, his own was practically filled with a natural, feral lust, only for her and her alone, he was purring, loudly, his voice had growls whenever he spoke. He kept her nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue across it over and over again, he even carefully pulled it with his teeth before letting it go with a breathless huff, his eyes cascading back upwards towards her flustered, red face, "Good~ I want it to be~" He opened his mouth and was in the process of leaning towards her other breast but Codec's hand cupping his cheek stopped him and his eyes instantly flicked back upwards towards her, he could see a glint in her eyes like she had a plan and determined as all Hell to carry it out. "As, whew, as much as I want you to keep going with this, I think it's about your turn to get something, hmm?~"

It took them rearranging their position for Internal to realize just what Codec had planned, he was leaned back against the numerous pillows on the bed, he still had his jeans on from earlier before, however, that look was still ever present in her eyes and now it was his turn to turn as red as all Hell, and he silently cursed to himself since his pointed ears, both torn and normal, were turning red too. Pressing a quick peck to his lips, Codec started to move down his body, her hands on his torso and caressing him the journey downwards until she was at his belt, "I think you might be getting redder than me, Vallen~" She teased, earning a growl deep from Internal's gut, "No one's done this to me before, alright?!" He shot back, making Codec giggle, "I can tell since your jeans are looking pretty tight down here~" She cooed, her hands went up to his belt buckle and she started to undo the metal loop, unbuckling it and after that, she unthreaded it from the loops of his jeans, tossing it to the side with the rest of the discarded clothes. She unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them too, letting her fingers hook around the edges of both his underwear and jeans, she pulled them both down at the same time and let out a soft gasp to herself when Internal's cock sprung out of the prison that was his underwear and stood straight up at attention. She gazed at him, gulping to herself, out of her excitement and also on the fact that he was bigger than she's imagined before, not that she was complaining though. "Yeah, yeah, ya did this to me~" He chuckled, he sucked in a soft breath when her robotic hand wrapped around his length, the metal was a cold contrast again how warm he was down there. "Did I?~ Well I should take care of it, shouldn't I?~" Allowing her hand to glide downward, she tenderly held his cock by the base, squeezing it gently and she licked her lips too, probably hinting to him what she was going to do next. Leaning her body forward, she pressed her tongue flatly against his cock and she dragged her tongue up from the base, taking her time on his shaft so that she licked the entire length of it, ending her long lick at the head which she promptly pressed a kiss to it. Internal's eyes rolled back and closed while letting out a long, low groan, his claws had unsheathed and were currently digging into the sheet and the mattress slightly with how tight he was gripping. Gauging his reaction, Codec giggled, craning her head forward, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, starting suck on it whilst her tongue flicked across it too and as she did this, her hand steadily pumped what wasn't in her mouth yet. He groaned, sitting up again to stare at how she worked her mouth around him, feeling her mouth open up wider, she started to slide more of his cock deeper into her mouth, feeling the head of it press against the back of her throat is when she gagged lightly, knowing that's how much she could take. "Ghhnhfm~ MMmmhhffnh~" She moaned out around him, sending pleasurable waves up and down his body. She started to bob her head up and down as she sucked, her tongue swirling around his shaft buried in her mouth and her hand continued to pump what wasn't in her mouth, her other hand squeezed at his inner thigh, feeling his body trembling with the gasps and low groans that breathily escaped his mouth. "Fuck~ Hnnh~ Nnhg~ Yer, hah, really fuckin' good at this, Codec~" He whispered, his shut eyes were twitching before he finally pried them open to take in the sight of Codec's mouth wrapped around him, smudged and streaked remnants of her purple lipstick painted his cock, her eyes fluttered and landed onto his and made such a deep eye contact with him, it felt like it wasn't going to break. She took in just how cute he looked, his entire face was flushed, his eyes struggled to even stay open a little and if he wasn't letting out breathless groans, he would chew at his bottom lip to bite back any noise that attempted to seep through his lips.

Codec lifted her head off of his cock, she panted out heavily to catch her breath, her tongue was even hanging out of her mouth. She gazed at Internal again who was recovering from her mouth being pried away from him, his body was heaving with his panting, his defined, scarred body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and he even had brushed his messy hair back and away from his face. With how he was twitching, that certain gaze in his eyes, and how he was panting open-mouthed with his fangs on display, he was close. "You, hah, whew, mmhf, taste good, Vall-oh!~" She had to remind herself about the vampires' unnatural speed since, in a blink of an eye, he was on top of her again, his body wantonly pressed up against hers. "I don't think, haah, ahhn, I can take too much anymore, Codec~ I have got to be inside of ya already~" There was a degree of need in his voice when he murmured that out, "Trust me, I'm, hnn, the same~ I want you, Vallen, please~" She pulled him down to her level again, her mouth right next to his ear, "I need you~" She pleaded. Letting their foreheads press together, Internal let one of his hands roam downwards and he grasped his cock by the base, letting his hips adjust and when he did, the head of his cock pressed against her slick, dripping slit, drawing a soft, sharp gasp from her. He dragged it up and down her folds, beginning to drench himself with her wetness, and when he was slick enough, he lined his cock up to her and moved his hips forward, sinking himself deep inside of her pussy and she wrapped around him tighter than he expected, but he adored it. Codec moaned out rather loudly, her hands shooting to the sheet and she took fistfuls of it while her back arched off of the mattress, "H-Haah!~" When he was buried inside of her, he let out a low, animal-like growl at the relief rushing over him at being inside of her already. "Fuck~" He drew the swear out, "Yer tight~" He husked out, he didn't move quite yet, he wanted the okay from her more than anything. He wanted her to love this. "Y-You're, hah, hnnh, oh~ Bigger than I thought~" She whimpered out, she could feel Internal's eyes fixated on her, they didn't break from her body jolting with enjoyment. It took a few moments to a minute and then she gave him the nod for him to begin moving. He pulled out of her almost all of the way, only to snap his hips forward again, his hands went back to gripping the mattress after wrapping her legs around his waist all over again and he started to steadily pound and thrust his hips downwards into hers, Internal's eyes were screwed shut, he was leaned over her and his head hung some while he kept up this steady pace of his hips while Codec gripped and grasped at his body, her hands were gripping and grasping desperately at his back and his shoulders, her heels dug into his hips as they slammed into hers. The sounds of his waist slapping up against hers filled her ears and the room, "Oh, fuck, unhnf~ Unhf~ Ya like that?~ Tell me, I wanna hear that, mmffhh, pretty voice of yers, Codec~" He growled, he glanced downward at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of her, how it disappeared inside of her over and over again at quite the fast pace. He instantly snapped his eyes back onto her face when Codec, attempted, to speak up again. "I-fuck!~ I love it~ Please don't stop, Vallen, please~ Please don't~" His ears flicked, he wasn't expecting her to beg but allowing a grin to dance onto his lips, he pressed his body up against hers again and it let him rock and slam his hips down into hers faster and harder than previously.

Their bodies pressed against one another in a heated embrace, the headboard to the bed was knocking against the wall it was pressed up against, most definitely alerting anyone in the room next to theirs about what they were doing. Internal reached down again, and he hurriedly collected both of Codec's wrists again and he pinned her arms above her head again, his free hand roamed up her rocking body, pausing a moment at her breasts to cup one and knead one tenderly before letting his hand continue until it made it to its destination, her neck. He wrapped his hand around her neck, he wasn't choking her of course, but he had a tender, loving hold on it as he kept her pinned like that, much to her approval, "Vallen~ Vallen~ MMhff!~ Ahn!~ Oh!~ L-Like that~ Just like that~ Oh please don't stop~ Please~" She whispered breathlessly, "God, I can, fuck I'm gonna come soon~" He leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers, "I plan on fillin' ya up to the fuckin' brim~ I want my cum drippin' from ya~" He grunted, the thought of that alone fueled him to do just that, and judging from Codec's numerous, begging nods, she wanted that too. Internal's pants were getting heavier, his thrusts turned needier, more desperate, and his pace that he had set prior was getting lost from him. His hips collided with hers erratically, "F-Fuck I'm gettin' close~" He rasped out, "M-Me, hah, anh, oh, me too!~ Fuck!~ V-Vallen-!~" Codec's gripped him tightly, her fingers dug into his and her thighs tightened around her waist, effectively trapping him and with one more strong, fast pound from Internal, she came, that coil that tightened in her abdomen snapped and released. Throwing her head back against the pillows and letting out a loud moan open into the room, she tightened around him, hugging him, and with how warm, wet, and velvety her slick walls felt around his cock, he wasn't that far behind her. He released her, both her neck and her wrists to get a firm hold of the sheets and his claws dug into them so far that when he was pushed over the edge, he tore slashes not only into the sheets but also into the mattress itself. He buried his cock deep inside of her, his teeth bared and he let out a roar almost of just pure feral pleasure, his orgasm hit him hard, it felt like wave after wave of fire rushing over his body, his hips jerking forward with every pump of this thick seed shooting and spilling inside of her, his hips planted firmly against her, his cock hilted inside and his plan of just filling her up all of the way didn't change at all. When he was done with his orgasm, he had to pull his claws out of the fabric of the bed, his cock slid back out of her and he fell limp down beside her, he was panting out loudly alongside her, he felt sweat accumulated all over his body, especially on his forehead and on his back but the bed was handling that right now. Codec shuddered, feeling Internal's cum eagerly drip out of her slit and onto the bed, she could barely move, a lot like him, but neither one of them was complaining. The scent of sex was strong in the room, there were feathers from the pillows and torn fabric evident on his side and when he caught his breath, enough, not fully, but enough to speak up, he glanced over at her in the corner of his eye.

"So, ya are a bottom, huh?~" "...You're so fucking lucky I love you~" "Hehe, love ya too~"

[imagine-darksiders]

Would make a short of Strife rescuing a tiny human? Please ?

Short?

Hi guys, so I was writing this reply when it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve been neglecting you and I owe you, at the very least, a 6000+ word, Strife centric Christmas present. So although it’s isn’t a Christmassy piece per se, it all I have at the moment. 

Thank you so much for being patient with me. XXXX 

—

The photograph stands on a tiny, pink dresser, its edges cut back just enough so that it fits inside a silver frame, out of which peer three humans, their grinning faces never changing as they keep a quiet vigil of the bedroom and its otherworldly visitor, who – in turn – finds his sharp gaze frequently returning to the little, paper snapshot.

A pair of eyes, golden and glowing in the lightless bedroom, screw themselves shut tightly for a moment as their owner heaves a sigh and tries not think about what had happened to the trio of humans. He especially refuses to dwell on the youngest; the little boy in overalls and wellington boots who rides happily on his father’s shoulders in the photo, but who also so, so closely resembles the tiny, emaciated corpse twisted up in a wardrobe nearby.

These are the moments during supply runs that Strife hates the most – where he stumbles across the sad, broken remains of humans, all whilst he rummages through their homes and helps himself to what was once theirs with his only consolation being the humans back at the maker tree, who would survive just a little longer thanks to his pilfering.

If he thought too hard about it, he would be troubled, and the horseman could not afford that. Best to put it from his mind and move on, as he always has. As experience has taught him.

Peeling his eyes open again, Strife turns his back on the photograph and continues stuffing a dishevelled, cuddly pony into one of the leather pouches that hangs from his side.

’Just the essentials,’ he reminds himself before every supply run. ’Food, water and ammunition being top priority.’

But then, Ulthane had brought that kid to the tree and she’d cried all night, asking where her caretakers were and complaining how she couldn’t possibly sleep without a ‘Mister Bear’ and…

The horseman strokes a finger over the toy’s stringy mane before he withdraws his hand and fastens the pack up again, safely sealing it inside.

’In this instance’, he reasons, ’a soft toy is an essential.’

Besides, he’s already gathered plenty of food for today at least, and if he doesn’t get back soon, Ulthane and the other humans will start to worry where he is.

“Where Jones is,” he corrects himself aloud with a bitter frown.

He’s beyond the point of believing they’d care about Strife the horseman in the same manner they care about his human disguise.

Casting one last, solemn glance at the corner wardrobe, Strife once more finds himself fighting to put the humans’ fate from his mind.

It was so much easier when he thought – as many other species still do – that humanity was little more than a savage society with no ambition beyond killing and consuming to survive. Then, he actually met the little species and found everything he thought he knew about them to be a lie. His eyes had been opened, and he’d been left sadder, but wiser.

Humans had been treated like dirt for so many centuries.

And he hadn’t really cared.

Deciding that he’s spent more than enough time among ghosts, Strife steps back over the bedroom’s threshold. 

Moving towards a set of rickety stairs, he reaches out to place a hand on the banister when he suddenly freezes in his tracks, his keen senses honing in on a sound coming from somewhere further down the landing.

A scuffle, then a snort followed by the scrabble of claws on a hard surface.

For several moments, the horseman remains at a standstill as he listens with rapt attention to the pants and growls he’d pin to a Goreclaw, if he had to take a wild guess.

The damn thing sounds as though it’s stuck. That, or it’s looking for something. Either way, it will be sufficiently distracted and chances are likely it doesn’t even know a horseman is in the vicinity.

Mercy’s grip sticks invitingly up from within its holster and Strife runs a thumb over the smooth surface, thinking.

He could just leave. It is only one demon after all.

But then…

The horseman’s mind drifts back to the little body in the wardrobe and his jaw immediately sets.

No way in Hell is he about to let that thing get at it. Dead or not, a kid doesn’t deserve to be reduced to marrow by a hell-dog. Strife could spare him that, at the very least.

Shaking his head and wondering when he’d become so sentimental, he draws his pistol and steps back onto the landing. Following the sounds of guttural snarls, he stalks through the crumbling apartment until he comes upon a broken doorway, torn off its hinges at some point by a hand greater than a human’s. Strife halts just shy of the entrance and presses his back up against the wall before inching his head around the corner, golden eyes narrowed dangerously as he scans the room beyond.

Far be it from him to err on the side of caution but he is curious to know what the demon is up to. His earlier assumption had been spot on. It’s a Goreclaw alright, currently in the midst of trying to shove its long talons underneath a chest-of-drawers, teeth snapping and drool flying from its snout.

“What the Hell are you doing?” he wonders quietly, observing while it retracts its foreleg and presses its nose up to the slim gap beneath the furniture.

He’s only ever seen the dogs get this excited when they’re on the trail of prey.

For a split second, the horseman’s blood runs cold at the thought of a human being trapped under there, though he soon shakes that notion off. No matter how tiny, there isn’t a human alive that could stuff themselves underneath there. Not with barely two inches of space between floor and wood.

Through the window, he’s distantly aware that the sun is no longer shining through a gap in the curtains, having sunk well below a building on the opposite side of the street, heralding the swift approach of night.

Aware that he’s burning daylight, and desperate to put a bullet in something, Strife obnoxiously clears his throat, rounds the corner and aims a cocksure grin at the startled demon when it whirls about to face him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says cheerfully, “Just wanted to stop by and tell you, there’s something on your face.”

A roar of outrage shatters the relative peace as the demon crouches, ready to pounce. It barely manages to plant its hind legs however, before a bullet tears out of Mercy’s chamber and buries itself directly in the Goreclaw’s skull.

“Ope, never mind, I got it,” Strife gloats, a smirk lifting his lips. The demon crumples to the ground, gurgling and twitching for a moment until it eventually lays still, dead on the floral print carpet. “Huh…I was hoping that’d be a little more satisfying.”

With his grim duty taken care of, the horseman turns on his heel to leave. However something nags at the back of his mind and he stops mid-stride, a frown pulling at his brows.

Just what had that demon been so desperate to get at?

Beneath his helm, Strife chews pensively on his lip, turning back to face the unassuming chest of drawers. After a moment’s deliberation, he gives in to curiosity, a newfound trait he wholly blames on the humans he’s been sharing a tree with for the past several weeks. Every one of them has a penchant for sticking their noses into strange situations, and it seems their behaviour has rubbed off on the horseman somewhat.

An obnoxious huff escapes Strife as he grabs each side of the dresser and picks it up effortlessly, as if it weighed no more than a feather and moves it aside to peer down at the dustless rectangle that had been left in its wake. It isn’t long before his sharp gaze lands on something out of the ordinary, a patch of colour in the otherwise murky grey.

“What the?…” Dumping the chest of drawers down to his right, the horseman squats to get a better look at what appears at first glance to be just another child’s toy.

“All that fuss for a doll?” he wonders aloud, reaching slowly down with a finger to prod at it.

Just then, before he can utter anything further, he almost jumps out of his skin as the ‘doll’ springs to life.

Rather, it suddenly leaps to its feet and darts sideways, gunning straight along the wall’s skirting with two, little legs pumping along like a steam engine.

“Hey! Woah there!” Caught off guard, Strife doesn’t think before he shoots out a hand towards the fleeing creature.

It can’t quite skid to a halt in time to keep from colliding with the horseman’s gauntleted palm that abruptly slams to the ground in front of it, and with a soft ‘plink,’ the human-shaped thing collides with his hand and falls back onto its rump so jarringly, Strife can’t suppress a wince. “Oooh, sorry about that,” he says, wasting no time in pinching his thumb and forefinger against the collar of a thin, brown shirt and plucking it up off the floor. “Now, what do we have here?”

Dangling his prize in front of his silver helm, he squints, head tipping to one side so he can get a good look at what he’s caught.

He very nearly drops it again when he realises what he’s peering at.

It’s a human. A boy, to be precise, and a fairly young one at that, clothed in nothing more than a ratty shirt and a pair of equally dishevelled shorts that hang low on his waist, too baggy to fit on his near skeletal form. They’ve even been tied in place by a strip of green twine.

Hanging limply from the horseman’s grasp, the little human tries to work his shirt loose, twisting this way and that but impeded by violent trembles that wrack his body. Realising that thrashing is doing him no good, he opts to reach up with miniature fists and attempt to tear the shirt free, tiny grunts leaving even tinier lips.

“You’re a human!” Strife blurts out, eyes flashing interestedly.

At the sound of his booming voice, the boy flinches and cries out, abandoning his prospects of escape in favour of clamping both arms over his head and curling in on himself, a meagre method of protection against his titanic captor.

Standing back up to his full height, the horseman continues to study his handful whilst planting his free hand on a cocked hip. “Well damn me, I didn’t think human kids could get this small,” he murmurs. Suddenly, his ears perk up at the sound of a diminutive squeak that emanates from the boy currently hanging from his fingers. ”What was that, kid?”

Shivering, his arms still shielding his head, the tiny boy swallows and raises his voice loud enough to be heard. “I-I ain’t a human!” he claims shrilly. Then, after a small pause, he adds, “And I ain’t no kid neither!”

“Not a human, huh? Well, you sure look like one.” Strife chuffs and raises a claw-tipped finger, prodding the boy in his stomach and eliciting a squawk of indignation. “Sure sound like one too…Kind of on the skinny side though, aren’t you?”

His words cause the boy to turn rigid and his arms peel back slightly to give Strife a view of ebony hair and wide, brown eyes. “What…what’s that s'posed to mean!?” he whimpers, “You’re not gonna…you’re not gonna eat me, are you!?”

“Mmm, haven’t decided yet,” the horseman playfully responds, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much meat on you…Then again, I am pretty hungry.”

Behind his mask, he grins, though the expression promptly blinks out of existence when he notices a wetness has gathered on the boy’s cheeks.

“Uh oh.” That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d been sure human kids loved jokes! Hell, Ulthane had playfully threatened to eat some of the younglings back at the tree and they’d all thought it was a great game, even laughed their heads off when he made a slow swipe at them with one of his meaty paws.

“Oh, hey, no – I – Ah, damnit.” Like a flipped switch, Strife’s tone loses its teasing lilt and slips to something gentler. “Hey, ease off the waterworks, okay, pint-size? I was kidding.” Borderline desperate, the horseman lowers his catch into a sturdy palm and lets go of his shirt, even smoothing down the back of it with the pad of a careful finger for good measure although as he does, he becomes aware of just how prominently the boy’s spine protrudes. Human anatomy varies, sure, but that doesn’t feel right.

Jerking away from the encroaching finger, the ‘not’ human swipes furiously at his eyes, smearing tears across reddened cheeks. In spite of the horseman’s reassurance, he doesn’t appear convinced, eyeing the palm beneath him with about as much trust as he’d give a hungry snake, half expecting it to spring to life and squeeze the soul out of him. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen much of the world, even before monsters fell out of the sky, but he knows enough to tell that this metal-clad behemoth is most assuredly not human.

Human eyes don’t glow like liquid gold.

In the meantime, Strife gives himself a mental kick for making the child cry.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “You… got a name, kid?”

“What do you care?” the boy sniffs, all pretence of bravery made redundant by his trembling, “You’re just gonna drop me or – or squash me or something.”

Drawing his head back, the horseman frowns. “C'mon, you’re like – what? - three inches tall? Be kind of a dick move for me to hurt someone smaller than my thumb.”

Cautious surprise flickers across the youngster’s face and he swipes the back of a wrist under his nose, chin lifting to shoot a suspicious squint at his captor. “But…but ain’t you one of them demons?”

Strife bristles despite his best efforts. “Do I look like a demon to you?”

Ducking his head, the boy gulps but still balls his hands into fists and squeezes out, “Well, I dunno… You big'uns all look alike from down here.” He risks a mistrustful glare at Strife’s luminous eyes. “Like monsters.”

Apparently the Horseman has been spending too much time around humans because that sent an unpleasant pang bolting through his chest.

“Yeah, well…Speaking from experience, not everyone who’s bigger than you is a monster, kid,” he murmurs gently.

The boy blinks, caught off guard by the sober tone of voice he hadn’t expected to hear from this gargantuan, metal man. All his life, he’d had drummed into his head the mantra that if a big one caught him, they’d more than likely kill him. And those that didn’t would shove him in a jar or underneath a microscope - that last one had happened to his great, great grandfather. Or so he has been lead to believe.

And yet so far, there’s no jar, no microscope, and although he knows it’s far too early to be letting his guard down, the longer he goes without becoming a sticky mess under the heel of a boot, the more his nerves relax the strangle-hold they have on his heart.  

Outside, the city grows steadily darker and with the absence of sunlight, a chill seeps its way through the broken window.

Drawing up his knees and hugging them to his chest, the boy falls victim to an involuntary shudder.

“Cold?”

The suddenness of the giant’s voice reverberating overhead causes him to jump and snatch his gaze up from where it had wandered down to his shoeless feet. On impulse, he blurts out a stubborn, “No,” and clenches his jaw shut again to stop it from quaking.

Strife raises an eyebrow and though his skepticism is hidden under a helm, it manages to saturate his voice. “Uh huh. I can see you shivering, kid.” Slowly, his fingers creep a few centimetres closer to the boy. 

“I told you, I’m not a kid,” his handful mutters, “I’m nearly eleven.”

A snort of laughter bursts out of Strife before he can catch it, earning himself an icy glare. “Now, I’m no expert,” he chuckles, bouncing his hand slightly, much to his passenger’s horror, “But I’d’ve said eleven was well in the range of what a ‘kid’ oughtta be.”

“Kids can’t take care of themselves,” the boy explains, agitated, “I can.”

Strife draws his head back in mock surprise. “Oh hoh! Can you now? S'that why I found you seconds away from becoming a demon’s snack?”

Huffing, the boy averts his gaze from the dazzling yellow eyes overhead and mumbles, “I’d have been fine.”

“Whatever you say, half-pint.” The corners of Strife’s lips tilt up as he inspects the boy’s grumpy pout. “You know, you’re pretty feisty for such a little guy. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to go picking fights with demons a hundred times your size?”

Despite his far larger stature, the horseman can pinpoint the exact moment he’d said the wrong thing. The word 'parents’ has barely slipped off his tongue before the boy’s eyes suddenly clamp shut and his back goes rigid against Strife’s fingers. Understanding dawns at once and the horseman’s eyes lose some of that preternatural glow as he exhales softly through his nose. “Oh….Your folks’re not in the picture anymore, huh?”

Face now pressed into his knees, the boy shakes his head.

“Was it a demon?”

This time, Strife receives a slow nod, confirming his suspicions.

Blowing out a puff of hot air, he scratches at his neck and offers, “Damn. I’m…. sorry, kid.”

What else could he possibly say?

“…Hamish.”

Strife blinks, lifting the youngling closer to his eyes and peering down at him. “What’d you say?” he murmurs, giving the boy a gentle nudge with his thumb in the hopes of coaxing the words out again.

Luckily, he’s rewarded when his passenger finally looks up at him with a pair of drooping, brown eyes, their edges tinged red. “My name,” he tries, louder this time, “It’s not kid. It’s Hamish.”

The metal mask does little to conceal its wearer’s pleased grin.

“Hamish, huh?” He decides not to make a fuss about the tears rolling down the kid’s cheeks. “S'good to meet you. Name’s Strife.”

Confusion sweeps across Hamish’s features and he carefully extracts himself from his knees, scrubbing away the fresh teardrops. “Strife?” He hesitates for a moment to scrunch up his nose even further, and the horseman can’t help but notice that when he does, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Yarin after the humans tried explaining the concept of a computer to him. Strife’s grin widens of its own accord at the fond memory whilst its wearer waits patiently for Hamish to finish scrutinising him.

Eventually, the boy appears to come to some sort of conclusion as he huffs and rubs tiredly at one of his eyes, though Strife suspects it has more to do with not wanting to meet the horseman’s gaze when he says matter-of-factly, “That’s a weird name.”

Glad that his little acquaintance has at least stopped crying, Strife feigns offence. “It’s a Nephilim name,” he explains, “and - for the record - how do you know I don’t think Hamish is a weird name?”

The boy gulps, apparently mistaking the giant’s playful banter for real displeasure, after all, he had just insulted an unstoppable behemoth’s name. Eager to move the conversation along, he stammers out, “U-Uh, what’s a…a nephilim?”

The horseman, making note of Hamish’s renewed trembling, softens his tone. “A Nephilim is…It’s, uh…” Something stops him mid-sentence. Is he really about to tell this kid about the Nephilim? A brutal race of bloodthirsty, world-conquering titans? Of which Strife himself was a member? The horseman clamps his mouth shut. What if explaining who the Nephilim were prompts Hamish to start asking questions? Creator forbid the boy discover that the man holding him in his palm was one of four responsible for the total eradication of their own species.

With a hard blink, Strife focuses back on Hamish and notices the boy’s eyes are nervously darting all over his mask. The suffocating spell of silence had lasted longer than the horseman intended. Thinking quickly, he stumbles over an answer that he hopes will satisfy the boy. “It’s…Well, s'just what I am.”

Perhaps it’s only because Hamish has spent his entire life keeping his existence a secret, but the giant’s vague response doesn’t bother him half as much as it ought to. He gets it. The man probably doesn’t want anyone knowing about his existence. Hamish finds the feeling is mutual.

So, instead of calling Strife out on his blatant avoidance, the boy simply offers him a nod and says, “I knew you weren’t human.”

“Ha, only when I need to be,” the horseman chimes secretively, and before Hamish can ponder what he means by that, he’s unexpectedly bounced up into the air, letting out a startled yelp before he lands in the centre of the giant palm again.

“Anyway,” Strife begins, shooting a cursory glance out the window and wincing upon finding it utterly obscured by the ink of night, “There’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other once I get you to safety.”

Hamish’s fingers twitch against the tough gauntlet, a trickling cold slipping into his stomach. “Wait, what?”

“Well, today’s your lucky day, kid!” Strife puffs out his chest and jabs it with a thumb, proudly declaring, “I am gonna take you someplace safe.” Pausing for a moment to let that sink in, he watches the boy’s eyes grow wide, feeling a sense of accomplishment at seeing what he imagines can only be excitement, so he carries on, “It’s warm, away from demons, there’s lots of humans and enough food to last you a lifetime.” He stresses his point by poking Hamish’s belly with a careful fingertip. “By the looks of things, you could use a good meal. So, what do you say? How’s that sound?”

The boy remains silent for several seconds as he processes what he’s being told.

Then, to the horseman’s shock, rather than elation or relief, he’s met with a face full of horror and before he can ask what’s wrong, the boy leaps unsteadily to his feet and bellows, “NO!” at the top of his lungs.

Taken aback, Strife snaps his other hand up to close Hamish in a loose fist when it looks as though he’s about to jump off the horseman’s palm. “Hey! Easy there! What’s the matter?”

Hamish begins pounding ardently on the fingers holding him hostage, kicking his legs to no avail. This hulking stranger wants to take him away from his family home – the place he’s lived and loved and known his whole life - and dump him with a bunch of humans? Not a chance. “Let me go!” he cries, terrified at the prospect of being uprooted, “I’m not going with you!”

Baffled, the horseman tips his head to one side and frowns at the ferocity behind each blow on his metal gauntlet. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” He reaches up and catches one of the boy’s arms, holding it gingerly between two fingers. “Why don’t you want to come with me?”

“Because! This is – It’s my home!” Hamish all but sobs, pushing furiously at Strife’s metal thumb.

“Kid, this is gonna be your tomb if you stay here much longer,” the horseman tries to reason, “I mean, look at you, if a demon doesn’t get you, something else will. You’re skin and bone.”

“I’d rather take my chances out here than be surrounded by humans!” Hamish gives a final heave before collapsing over the enormous thumb, with one arm still held above his head, caught in a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Strife almost laughs aloud at the thought of the humans at the tree hurting anyone. Three of them had actually cried after they discovered a dead bird outside the entrance. But even still, he has to put the boy’s mind at ease. At last relinquishing his hold on the skeletal arm, he sighs, “Listen, kid. Nobody’ll hurt you, okay? They’re good people. Besides – no offence – but I think they’ve got more important things to focus on than antagonising you.”

Unfortunately, Hamish either isn’t listening, or he just doesn’t care.

Glancing up at the giant, fresh tears streaming in a never-ending torrent down his face, he puts on the bravest voice he can muster and yells, “I’m staying here!”  

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not! You can’t make me!”

Golden eyes flash brightly at the challenge. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Strife smirks, and without warning, begins to lower Hamish towards one of the pouches on his belt.

As soon as he spots where he’s headed, the boy’s struggling becomes increasingly wild. “No, no, no!”

“Sorry, kid,” the horseman murmurs, steeling his heart against the frightened wailing, “M'not leaving you here.” Using his free hand, Strife fumbles with the pouch’s leather strap and is just about to get it open when Hamish suddenly cries out, “Wait, wait! Just – I’ll go with you, okay? Just stop!”

The horseman pauses, considering the boy for a moment before lifting him back up to his helm. “What’s up? You claustrophobic or something?”

Little fingers dig imploringly into the gaps of Strife’s gauntlet as Hamish shakes his head. “No, I – I just…If you have to take me, then….at least let me get my things first.”

“Your things?” he echoes, squinting down at the kid and noting, with some semblance of relief, that he’s no longer putting up a fight. “Where are they?”

Shrinking underneath the giant’s dazzling stare, Hamish swallows noisily but manages to raise a shaking finger and points it over his shoulder. “In the walls.”

Puzzled, Strife glances to where he’s indicating. “You….lived in the walls?” He sees Hamish nod from the corner of his eye.

“There’s an, um…like a little crack in the skirting board, over there.”

Once again, the horseman follows a tiny finger as it points down to the bottom of the wall, where there is indeed a hole, just large enough to grant entry to a mouse, or perhaps someone else who stands just a few inches off the ground.

For several seconds, Strife deliberates the situation, his gaze flicking between the dark window, the hole and Hamish until eventually, he blows out a huff and shakes his head, turning back towards the doorway and lowering the boy to his hip once again. “Sorry, kid, but whatever it is, it can’t be that -”

“There’s something in there that belonged to mum and dad!”

Strife’s steps falter and he squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh.

Sensing his captor’s hesitation, Hamish prods, “Please? I don’t want to leave without it! It’s all I have left of my family…”

Family. The word plucks insistently at Strife’s heartstrings and he briefly laments the younger, colder version of himself that wouldn’t have flinched if he’d heard it. For some time, the horseman wrestles with himself, teeth grinding together until at last, he lets out a groan and stomps over to the hole in the wall. “Alright, fine.” Pausing to lift the boy up to his mask again, he levels a stern glare at him and adds, “But you gotta be in and out of there in one minute, okay?”

Hamish’s face brightens and he squirms restlessly as Strife lowers himself onto one knee and places his hand on the ground.. “O-okay, mister!”

Barely even waiting for the appendage to stop moving, Hamish all but dives off as soon as the fingers uncurl themselves, landing on the ground and haring for the wall, but before he can get too far, he finds himself jerked to a halt when the waistband of his trousers is pinched between two, enormous fingertips. Craning his head back, he stares anxiously at the horseman, flinching when a gruff voice booms, “I mean it, kid. In and out.”

“I-I got it!” Hamish replies hurriedly, desperate to put some distance between himself and the metal giant.

After giving him one last, calculating look, Strife finally relents, letting the boy go and leaning back to watch him scurry into the wall as fast as his little legs can carry him. Snorting softly, the horseman eases back onto his haunches, content for the time being to wait for his discovery to reemerge. “And here I thought I’d seen everything,” he muses.

——-

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Strife, a similar thought is occurring to Hamish as he races through the intricate maze of tunnels his ancestors had dug out of the house’s stone foundations. Spiderwebs threaten to catch the boy’s flimsy shirt and hold him back, but a lifetime of memorising every twisting, dust-choked tunnel meant that Hamish could navigate his way through each obstacle without even having to slow down. In almost no time, he’s scaled up the wall’s interior and burst through the tiny, wooden door that leads to his family home.

Slightly winded, Hamish takes a moment to collect himself, peering about at the candlelit kitchen and trying to decide where best to hide because he has no intention of going back to the clutches of that giant. To do so would be in complete violation of everything his family had ever taught him, and if he could do nothing else, at least Hamish could carry their lessons with him. Perhaps his mother would even be proud of him for tricking the giant into letting him go free, had she still been alive. Pressing his lips together, Hamish slumps heavily against the doorframe and exhales roughly through his nose, determined not to cry again.

All of a sudden, his whole world shudders as a thunderous boom hits the wall beside him, threatening to knock him off his feet. Crying out, Hamish drops instinctively to his knees whilst two more booms follow the first, one after the other, rocking the entire foundations of his home and raining dust down into his already grubby hair. Fear of being crushed by falling debris compels him to move, so he crawls across the still shivering room, every now and again having to doge pots and pans that are flung from their hooks on the ceiling until he gets close enough to the kitchen table to throw himself underneath it.

Then, as soon as they’d begun, the booms stop and everything grows silent, save for the clinking of a cup that rolls across the ground before coming to a stop just beside Hamish’s hiding spot.

“Hey, kid! You get the stuff yet?” Strife’s muffled voice calls from outside.

To his irritation, the horseman sounds entirely oblivious to the abject terror he’d just put him through – is still putting him through. Unaware that he’s balled his hands into fists, Hamish aims a harsh scowl at the wall, behind which the voice had come from and, in as brave a tone as he can summon, yells, “GO AWAY!”

There’s a pregnant pause, a heavy stillness that hangs in the air like a lead weight over his head and Hamish is just beginning to wonder if Strife had actually obliged him, when the horseman’s voice cuts through the brick again, considerably softer this time. “You know I can’t do that, little man.”

The boy scoffs aloud. “Yes, you can,” he retorts, “You just have to turn around and leave.”

“Hamish.” The pointed use of his name isn’t lost on the boy. “I am trying to look after you. Now would you come back out here so I can actually do that?”

The voice sounds closer now, as though Strife is speaking directly next to the wall outside his hiding spot and Hamish realises too late what a stupid move it had been to shout and give away his position. So, with lips pursed and arms crossed, he offers the horseman a stubborn silence. A full minute passes before he hears a low sigh from the other side of the wall.

He expects Strife to continue banging on the wall until the sound becomes so annoying, it drives him out. He expects the horseman to at least pretend to leave, then snatch him up again the second he steps from the mouse hole. What Hamish doesn’t expect, however, is for the wall of his kitchen to suddenly explode inwards.

A cacophony of sound beats on his eardrums and in a desperate bid to avoid being deafened, Hamish throws his arms over his head and presses himself into the floor, his scream swallowed by chunks of plaster and brick showering down all around him. When the dust settles, he still doesn’t move, not even when silence is all he can hear aside from the blood pounding through his eardrum.

Then, movement. Not from Hamish, but from the gaping hole that has appeared in the brick and cement, exposing his kitchen – his home – to the world outside. Choking on the fear that weighs down on him as surely as the ceiling above, Hamish raises his head and peeks out between trembling arms to see a colossal fist slowly dislodge itself from the tight confines of his kitchen wall, fragments of which tumble down around it, plinking off metallic plating and leaving a coat of dust in their wake. With a final tug, the fist breaks free, retreating enough so that what little light is left can spill through the gap and illuminate the hovel. As Hamish watches, too rigid with anxiety to move his limbs, a familiar pair of luminous, yellow eyes loom out of the dust and peer inside, swiftly finding him cowered underneath the kitchen table. Their gazes lock and they stare at one another, the boy’s eyes widening as a direct contrast to Strife’s, which narrow at the sight of him.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being lied to,” the horseman grumbles before adding curtly, “I thought we had a deal?”

Pinned helplessly beneath that glare, Hamish attempts to shuffle backwards further under the table, though his limbs have locked up and refuse to cooperate with his intentions. However, his mouth hasn’t suffered the same petrification. “I-I don’t make deals with giants!” The words tumble out before he can catch them. “I’m not going, so just!- Just leave me alone!” As he speaks, he continues to shimmy away until he emerges from beneath the table, all the while his every move is followed intently by an unwavering, yellow gaze.

An entrance to one of the many tunnels his family had built into the walls is just to Hamish’s left – shrouded in darkness and invitingly safe. If he could just reach it, he’d be able to disappear into the brickwork.

Taking a fairly solid guess on the boy’s next course of action, Strife growls out a warning steeped in thinly veiled concern. “Come on, kid. Don’t make me do this.”

With the deliberate slowness of one who doesn’t wish to provoke a predator, Hamish gets to his feet and in utter silence, they stare each other down, one defiant and the other dejected.

Then, the horseman eyes squeeze shut just for the briefest of instances, as if in pain.

It’s all the opening Hamish needs.

Like a rabbit with a fox at his heels, he bolts sideways in a mad dash for the tunnel entrance, his mind fixated on one thing only: Escape.

Although he’d always been the youngest family member, he could boast an impressive swiftness, outpacing even his mother and father as they raced through the apartment in playful capers.

His father had once said that Hamish’s speed would keep him safe.

His father was wrong.

The enclosed doorframe comes within reach and another round of adrenaline fizzes across his brain at the the tantalising prospect of freedom, so close it puts a hopeful smile on his face. He would not be made to leave his home. Fingers grasp the wooden edge of the door and Hamish readies to propel himself those last, precious few feet through the gap. He’s so focused on where he’s going, he doesn’t notice the rush air that whizzes past him, nor that it’s soon followed by a large, ominous shape sliding past his body in the darkness and curling into his path. However, he does notice when he slams against a solid wall of metal and leather - a wall that begins to gently scoop him backwards, away from the door, away from the safety of the apartment’s labyrinthian tunnels and straight towards a home-wrecking giant.

“No!” he shrieks like a banshee as strong fingers fasten around his midsection, ensuring him that this time, there will be no escape. The horseman will not be duped again. All too soon, Hamish finds himself dangling back in front of that avian mask and shying away from the palpable disappointment radiating from beneath it.

“Okay,” the low, unimpressed voice chimes, “I can tell there’re gonna be some trust issues between us.” Before continuing, Strife holds an admonishing finger up right in front of the boy’s face. “But you need to understand that you can’t just run off like that, kid! What if you’d gotten hurt?”

Reflecting on what he’d said, the horseman has to suppress a shudder. ’Shit, I’m starting to sound like Death.’  

“What do you care if I get hurt!?” the boy challenges, “You’re the one who’s kidnapping me!”  

Bridling at the accusation, Strife sets his jaw and snaps, “You got duskwings in your belfry, kid? I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need you protecting me! I was doing just fine on my own!” Hamish bellows, balling his hands into fists and throwing them wildly in the direction of Strife’s mask, more as a show of defiance than anything else. He’s borderline hysterical now, barely sucking down enough air to keep himself conscious during the throes of panic.

Meanwhile, the horseman watches his display, taking in the boy’s skinny frame, the shorts that barely cling to his narrow hips, the dark bags hanging under his eyes and the grime covering his skin and clothes. “No,” he says with an air of finality, “You weren’t.”

There’s no further opportunity for Hamish to retort because he’s promptly swept in a downwards arch towards the horseman’s pouches once again. No amount of pleading, thrashing or crying garners a reaction out of the stone-faced giant who has turned a deaf ear to his tiny captive. Only when he lifts the flap of his frontmost pocket and lowers Hamish inside does he speak, simply to say, “This is for your own good.”

The boy’s backside touches something soft and fuzzy and he balks, inadvertently grasping at the fingers that unfurl from around him, as though they would pull him out of the very prison they’d slipped him into. The last thing he sees before his world is plunged into darkness is a now familiar pair of amber eyes gleaming down at him and pulling a whimper off his lips.

—

Strife expels a hot breath as he fastens the clasp on his pouch and finally allows himself an indulgent second to relax. Then, giving the bottom of the pouch a few, gentle pats, he turns once more towards the pitch black hallway, smirking when a minuscule foot kicks against his palm.