#opened one once and looked in and inhaled some not good stuff..was coughing and hacking like crazy

[robotoast03]

Trust me don’t make mustard gas, the Germans aren’t going over top and you need to halt the advance. Be safe moots and others!

ok kids repeat after me

vinegar and bleach makes chlorine gas, which is highly toxic

ammonia and bleach makes chloramine, which is highly toxic

rubbing alcohol and bleach makes chloroform, which is highly toxic

hydrogen peroxide and vinegar makes peracetic/peroxyacetic acid, which can be highly corrosive

be careful about your cleaning products and dont get yourself injured or potentially killed ok

[writing-mlm]

Hello!!!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Damian Wayne x sick male reader and how he would take care of them? It could be hcs or a while fic, I don’t care lol I’m sick right now and honestly really like Damian haha (BTW I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!)

Do as I say, not as I do

Summary: An alien sickness is running through Damian’s house and he’s confident he can beat it. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male!reader Wc: 1.6k tags/warnings: sick fic, alien sickness, fainting, general illness stuff A/n: hopefully you’re not still sick ik this took 4everrr

It’s not that Damian doesn’t like when you wear his clothes— you’re his spouse, of course, he absolutely loves when you wear his clothes. His pants, his shirts, sweaters, hell, he’d let you wear his socks if you’ve asked. It’s just… not while you’re sick, man. 

He watches as you cough into the sleeve of his Nightwing hoodie, resigning himself to hand washing it before putting it in the washing machine once you’re done. He hides his negative feelings; not quite distaste, not quite annoyance. It’s a third emotion he hasn’t found just yet. You inhale and he can hear the mucus getting sucked back into your nose before you hack a flurry of coughs. A nearby tissue gets attacked with the boogers that went from your nose to your throat. 

Despite the… disliking for germs and all things that could get him sick, Damian is not far from you. He hasn’t been more than ten feet away from you at any given moment. You smile when you see him walking back from the bedroom with a mountain of blankets for you to choose from. You’d said you were cold and when prompted, you simply said blanket. Never mind there were nearly twenty tucked away in one of the various dressers. 

“Habibi, which one would you like?” He asks, showing each, still folded, blanket in his arms. 

“The—“ Which comes out as a wheezy da. “— tiger one.” Amazing choice, he would’ve picked that one if he had to. Carefully, he shakes it open and goes to drape it over you when he sees you looking up at him expectantly. He sets the blanket down and leans over, wiping the sweat from your forehead before he kisses the spot. You hum, eyes closing at the warmth that spreads to your face when he holds you so tenderly. The blanket slides over you and he checks on the fireplace, adding another log for good measure. 

He silently curses Jon for giving you some alien sickness, deciding that he’ll give him yet another earful when you fall asleep. Thankfully it wasn’t deadly, confirmed by J’onn, but it was a nasty sickness all the same. Expected to last nearly half the month but could last longer depending on your conditions. And Damian prides himself on his abilities; abilities that include making his home stress-free and sterile. Not clean. Sterile. He won’t allow even a single molecule of dust to enter the house without wiping it away. He, even though it pains him, had temporarily set up Alfred and Titus back at the manor until you were well. 

You told him that part wasn’t necessary, but he insisted and you especially understand just how stubborn he can be. 

Of course, at the news of this alien sickness, Bruce (and let’s be honest, anyone with a working, unbiased, mind) had requested you be set in the WatchTowers quarantine zone where you could be closely monitored. Damian refused, declaring himself the perfect doctor and he doesn’t need anyone subpar attending to his husband. 

Just don’t let him know that every time he leaves the room you see one of the members at the window taking random tests to check up on you. A couple of times one of the speeders has done a drive-by blood sample or something else that requires being in close contact. It’s something you intend to keep a secret from him for a while.

Sinking into the soft pillow, you watch as he turns the channel to something more pleasant. He doesn’t want you watching crime or medical shows while you’re recovering; he thinks it’ll prolong your sickness with the stress. He also doesn’t want to bore you with documentaries. Or stress you with horror or thriller. He doesn’t want to watch RomComs because they’re either too good or too bad. So, cartoons it is. 

“I don’t wanna watch Bluey,” You whine. “I’m a grown man.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you huff. To your horror, a booger flies out from your nose, landing on the floor several feet away from you and you try not to laugh and/or hide in embarrassment. 

“I’ll put on Miraculous Ladybug, then,” He grabs a tissue and wipes up the mucus from the floor. 

“Oh, yes.” The show plays and Damian starts on dinner. He’s a little unsure of what to make; he wants something healthy but nothing too healthy so you’ll eat it without fuss. He tried feeding you nothing but vegetables blended together the first night and you threw it up as soon as the bowl was empty. He knows you’re also tired of soup; he would be too if it was all he ate for nearly every meal for the past week. 

He thinks for a moment, looking at the fridge doors and pictures of what foods are in there. There’s a lot, considering he’d allowed Dick (read: Dick begged him until Damian agreed) to help him with grocery shopping only for Dick to show up with a shopping cart filled with food. Not that he was upset; he even said thank you before slamming the door shut. He’d seen how Dick had an open wound on his face and he wasn’t going to risk any type of contamination. 

His fingers drum on the countertop as he thinks before he stops and opens the door to double-check something. 

“Beloved, how would you like a poke bowl for dinner?” 

“Yes, please,” You cry at the idea of not eating yet another soup. He nods and begins to work, listening to your breathing and stopping every so often when it changes to something too harsh for his liking. You eventually sit up, cracking your back and watching as he chops up the avocado slices, splaying them nearly on top of the rice and other assortments. He drizzles on the kewpie mayo and sriracha like they do in recipe videos, cleaning the sides of the bowl with a napkin until it looks pretty. It’s like watching The Bear. Or BingingWithBabish. 

Changing the channel to something you both enjoy, you open the blanket up for him. He sits close to you, your thighs touching despite the warnings that the illness is communicable.

You eat, happy that it’s staying down because it tastes so fucking good and you’d hate to throw up again. At some point you, though, between chewing on the last bite and setting the bowl on the coffee table, you knock out. 

It startles Damian as he grabs you once he notices you were going down, suddenly limp. Putting a hand to your forehead, he chews at the inside of his cheek when he sees your feverish skin against the back of his hand. It’s not dangerously hot, just a little above your normal temperature. Checking your pulse, he finds that it’s normal and listens to your breathing; also normal. So, nothing that’s immediately alarming. 

Perhaps you were simply fatigued, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. From a small box on the coffee table, he grabs a small flashlight and checks your eyes. They dilate as they should. He then goes into the closet to grab his inflatable cuff, which he would later tell you was exactly why he’d insisted on having one in the first place and tested your blood pressure. Normal. That’s good. In the same box, the cuff was in, he takes the glucose meter and pricks your finger. 

Low. 

Not dangerously so, but lower than he’d like it to be. 

He doesn’t want to leave you on the couch but he needs to as he fixes a cup of a sugary drink and a small plate of your favorite cookies before he returns to the couch. You’re stirring at that point, grumbling as your eyes adjust to the lights. 

“You worried me,” He admits, sitting at your side, gently brushing his fingers against your face. “Here, your blood sugar is low. Eat as much as you can manage,” Nodding, you take a long sip of the drink, relishing the feeling because Damian insisted on those crazy superfood drinks with nothing but kale and spinach. 

“I apologize,” He blinks down at the floor. “I neglected to realize how important eating… fun foods are as well as healthy foods.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, eating the cookie and then offering him one. He shakes his head, insisting you eat them. “How long was I out for?”

“No more than ten minutes,” He assures, putting the items back into the box but doesn’t put the box away. He inhales and checks your forehead again. It’s the same, of course.

—

That routine continues for another week. A week of tissues and sore throats. Not that you minded all that much, it wasn’t so bad spending all that time being doted on by Damian. At least until you woke up to the sound of him coughing his lungs out, reading blindly for his shirt. 

“I’ll get the soup ready,” You hum, tossing the overs off and stuffing your feet into your house slippers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll go to the quarantine ward in the WatchTower.” He shakes his head. “You’re just getting over being sick, stay here.”

“Damian, no,” Pushing him back to the bed, he glares and grabs your hand. 

“I do not want to get you sick, your body shouldn’t be under stress after you’ve just gotten over being—“ He’s forced to stop as he can no longer hold back his own coughs. 

“I think I remember the recipe you like,” You mutter, checking his temperature. “I’ll tell Bruce you’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“I’m going to the Watchtower,” He insists, following you out of the room. “I’ve already contacted Father and he agrees. He’s on his way now,”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m keeping you safe.”

[yaboymercury]

"Thanks so much again man!"

"No problem buddy!" The attractive stranger shovelled the last pile of snow from around your tires and went to go put the shovel back in his trunk.

"And you did all the shovelling as well you're a lifesaver!" You were insanely grateful. "Knew I was dumb parking in the middle of no where."

"You sure you don't want a lift?" The guy warmly smiled as you got in your chilly car. You wish you could say yes to the perfect stranger but you couldn't risk leaving your car here.

"Oh it's fine thank you so much though." You began to roll up the window as the man waved and began to walk away. But as you pushed down the gas you heard your engine splutter and saw some smoke rise from under the hood.

"Shit shit shit!" You stepped out as the smoke began to slowly seep into the car. You were hoping to warm up in the car but now you were out in the cold again rubbing your arms for warmth. You called your insurance and they said they'd be with you in an hour. As you called them you realised the stranger was still parked and while you were still on the phone he got back out and walked back up. Once you finished the call and sighed at the state of your car he spoke.

"An hour in this weather? My friend is keeping me waiting so if you wanna wait in the warm with me I can stay here at least until he arrives." Once again that inviting handsome smile, even if he was a stranger anything was better than a freezing roadside or a smoke filled car.

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah man of course!" He led you to his truck and even held the passenger door open for you. The warm was amazing as you finally got some heat to your bones. But as you settled in and he sat next to you, you noticed a musky smell.

"You mind if I put on the radio?"

"Ah it's fine."

After a little small talk the man asked you to pass a half finished burrito from his glove box which he offered you some but you declined.

"Sorry I don't have anything else to offer you man, usually I just eat stuff like this to give my car natural heating you get me?" He cheekily smiled over.

"What do you-"

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT

The fart rumbled loudly against the leather of his seat and just as he promised the car did get warmer. What he didn't warn about was the smell.

"Fucking hell man that's rank!" You put your arm over your nose hacking into it from the spicy stink filling the small space.

"Pheww yeah," he took a deep inhale as you watched him smile at the stink he seemed to enjoy, "nothing like a burrito bomb to stink up the car!" He chuckled. "You sure you don't want to take any of this off me?" He offered you the last bite of the burrito.

"Think I've lost my appetite." You half joked half admitted as your stomach churned over the nauseating smell.

"Your funeral!" He shoved in the last bite and lifted a leg dramatically.

FFFFFFFRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPT

The flatulence was even longer and smellier than before as you tried desperately not to inhale as he proudly laughed at his expulsion.

"Damn man what happened to my chivalrous night in shining armour from earlier?" You joked trying to stay friendly.

"He's busy farting up his chariot." Oh god you'd encouraged him!

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFF

Even longer and after a desperately needed breathe even stinkier fart you began to feel dizzy from the stink. You were starting to miss the cold as his farts really were bringing up the heat.

"Oh looks like your insurance is here." He noticed with a twinge of disappointment.

"Ah my escape from the chariot!" You joked, your eyes were stinging but this stinky stranger did save your car and your body from freezing, even if he did turn you into an impromptu fart filter.

"Wait one last thing!" He held your hand down. You couldn't help but blush even if you could guess what was coming.

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFTT

"Just a good bye fart!" He winked as you laughed between coughs as you thanked him leaving the biohazardous gas chamber of a truck.

As you walked to greet the insurance helper you realised the stinky saviour had left his number written on paper in your hand. While your nose was happy recovering in the fresh air, the semi which the rough man gave you meant you were already planning what to text him.

-

ko-fi if you wanna tip or make a commission

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

POV: You Got Wayyy Too High

Warnings: Drug use (weed lol)

Aizawa Shouta/ Eraserhead

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Aizawa as he plopped his bag at the door. You were trying to smoke weed from a pipe, but instead of lighting the actual herb, you were trying to heat it up from the bottom of the pipe.

You’d never smoked weed, but wanted to try it and bought the supplies from a local smoke shop, as well as buying some good stuff from your friend.

Unfortunetly, you also didn’t bother to look up how to actually use a pipe, instead just relying on knowledge you gained from drug documentaries.

This meant that you only knew how people heated up heroin with a flame under the spoon, which meant that surely you could do the same with weed.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that,” he ordered. You were his age, but nonetheless still buckled under his stern tone.

“Look, do you need me to show you how to do it?” he asked, gently taking the glass pipe from your hand. You nodded.

“Watch carefully,” he ordered, as he properly lit up the herb as he inhaled the smoke. He then passed it to you, watching you carefully to make sure you were doing it right. Soon, you got the hang of it.

Even sooner, though, you were a coughing mess.

“Calm it down, there. Don’t take huge puffs. You’re not impressing anyone here, y/n,” he scolded, taking another puff. He did it effortlessly, as if he’d done it for years. (He has.)

You wanted to impress him, though, even though he seemed to not care what you did. You just wanted to prove to him that you were ~cool~.

Well, this ended up in you looking very... uncool.

While Aizawa was chilling with a pretty decent high, you were laid across the bed, starfish style, blasting music in your ears. You were honestly vibing though, so Aizawa didn’t mess with you. For now.

The next day, he definitely teased you a little bit about how totally out of it you were, and how you listened to the same song on loop for 3 hours.

“How did you know that?” You asked, cocking a brow.

“Uh, because your headphones weren’t plugged in?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might

He was smoking when you came home, and though he tried to hide it, you smelled it. He acted as if he was just caught as a 17 year old in his mom’s house.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing! I...I don’t do anything like that!” He insisted.

“Toshi, come on. I can smell it,” you smiled. He covered his face.

“Please, please, keep this between you and I...I only do it because it helps with the pain and-”

You cut him off, “ I dont care why you do it, just lemme have some already!” 

Of course, you were just teasing him, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help but ask, “...You smoke?”

You shook your head playfully.

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to try some, though!” 

He passed it to you, and you took a way-too-long drag. Instantly, you were doubled over, coughing and hacking your lungs out. 

He patted your back firmly.

“Since this is your first time, you’re gonna cough a little. Just try to take smaller puffs and take deep breaths. There you go.”

Once you recovered, and Yagi got his turn, he handed the joint back to you. It continued to be passed back and forth between you two until it was finally no longer than a centimeter. 

For a moment, you both just chilled out on the couch together, just vibing. That was until Toshinori noticed your goofy, dreamy facial expression. He chuckled to himself, but that was all you needed to become hysterical, laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Seeing you laugh so much of course made Toshi a mess as well, which only added to your decent into utter madness.

Eventually, though, you both calmed down, and Toshi excused himself so that he could go take a quick bath. He often did this whenever he smoked, so that the warm water could aid even more in soothing his aching muscles and creaky bones.

So you were left alone. Totally unattended. At first, everything was totally fine.

However, as you started to actually feel the effects of the herb, you began to panic.

Is this normal? Does everyone else feel like this when they smoke? Oh God, this isn’t right...oh fuck, I’m gonna be the first dumbass to OD on THC...fuck...

Thoughts whizzed past your brain, every single one making sure you knew how totally fucked you were.

Tears streamed silently down your cheeks as you counted your pulse with two fingers on your wrist, but you coulnd’t find a pulse.

oh fuck...i’m probably going to pass out any minute now...it’s all over...

Images of your final goodbyes to everyone you loved flashed just behind your eyes.

“How’re you holding up, pumpkin?” asked Toshi, coming back from the bath, in a robe and his golden hair still damp.

You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Toshi...I’m...I’m dying...I love you, okay?” you murmured. He would have laughed, all except he saw the genuine fear in your eyes. 

He sat down next to you, surrounding you with all of his lanky limbs. 

“You’re not dying, honey. What you’re feeling right now is totally normal, I promise. Take some nice, deep breaths for me. Come on. There you go. Good.”

He cradled you there for a good while, until he felt your tense muscles finally slacken, and your breathing evened out.

Toshi made a mental note to never let you smoke that much ever again, guilt pinching at his sides.

Fatgum/Taishiro Toyomitsu

You had taken an edible cookie from your friend. She told you it was just a small bit in there, just enough for you to feel something.

You decided to be modest, eating just half of the cookie. You didn’t notice any effects, and out of sheer boredom you decided to go ahead and eat the rest of it. No harm in that, right?

Well, an hour later, it kicked in. You were expecting to feel something interesting, but you definately weren’t expecting anything like this at all. 

Everything seemed so far away. Even your breathing sounded like it was coming down a long corridor and echoing to your ears. You could feel your soul swimming in your body. 

Fatgum, who you lived with, luckily finished his hero duties early, and walked into the house joyfully as usual.  He called out your name. You didn’t reply.

His large footsteps could be heard, but you were too busy thinking about how weird breathing sounds to notice. 

Fatgum soon found you collapsed on the bathroom floor, face pressed against the cool tile.

Immediately, he propped you up against the wall, looking into your eyes with great concern.

“What did you take? Y/n, look at me. What did you take?” 

You lazily looked at him, your face completely serious. As serious as it could be, anyway.

“...i...it was...edible...” you mumbled out. As soon as he understood, he was laughing hysterically.

“s..stop...s not funny...” you grumbled, punching him in the gut. 

“Alright, alright... let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel much better once you wake up,” he smiled, picking you up and bringing you into the bedroom. 

You quickly were comforted by the warm, heavy comforter. Fatgum took a moment to look at you in your groggy state, trying his best to hold back a laugh. It was so painfully obvious that you’d never done anything like this in your life. His only regret was not being around to witness your ascent into cloud 9.

Soon, though, you had drifted into dreamland.

Hizashi Yamada

You locked yourself in your bathroom, sneakily lighting up the joint you bought off of your friend. Your boyfriend was in his room, playing Fortnite or some shit, and frankly, you were embarrassed to smoke in front of him. You knew that he’d definately find something to roast you about, and he was relentless.

A couple minutes after you lit up, though, the door was basically busted down.

“HEY, HEY! You better be planning on sharing some of that!” yelled Hizashi, his hand already out and waiting. He still had his headset on, but you saw with relief that his mic was turned off. You passed it to him.

“Augh! Where the hell didja get this weak shit, y/n? Nah, this ain’t gonna cut it,” he complained, putting it out. 

“Hey! I got that from my friend, dude! What the hell?” you frowned. Before you could be too mad at the waste, though, Hizashi pulled out a small wooden box from under his bed. Opening it, he revealed his stash of entirely too much pot.

You covered your mouth, stifiling a laugh. How the fuck could you have not smelled it? 

Within five minutes, he’d rolled up a blunt, and was passing it to you, already lit. 

It was gone after a little over half an hour, and you could already feel the effects. Your eyes were dry, your stomach craving junk food, and your brain craving chill vibes.

He returned to his game, unbothered but his volume definately toned down about 5 notches. He was a lot more chill than you’d ever seen him act, ever.

You found your way into the kitchen.

Once his game was over, he met you in there. You were in front of the fridge, pulling out thing after thing. By the time he’d gotten to you, you had eaten half a jar of pickles, three pieces of cake (with your bare hands), drank a bunch of soda, and you were headed for the chips that were sitting idly on the top of the fridge.

“oh, God...what the fuck are ya up to, dude?” he groaned. He did not want to deal with this mess.

You grinned at him.  “I dunno, maan... look dude could you just get me these up here? please bro...” you giggled. He sighed dramatically, taking them.

However, instead of handing them over to you, with your dirty little fingers, he ate them.

“stoppp, bro, please lemme get some!” you pouted. He acted as if he couldn’t hear you, leaving the kitchen. You followed after him, kicking him in the shins. 

Still, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hizashi, come on, maaannnn!” 

He laid himself on the bed, covering himself with blankets. He pulled out his phone, calling you.  “Y/n, I miss you so much, man. Come chill out!” he spoke into the phone, trying his best not to break the act. You were absolutely furious at this point, punching at him.

“I’m right here, you doughnut!!” you groaned.  Dramatically sighing, Hizashi frowned, “I really wish y/n was here to sesh with me...” all while still eating the chips. You jumped on top of him. 

Finally, you caught him off gaurd, grabbed the chips, and locked yourself back up in the bathroom. 

This time, though, he just left you be. 

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (5) || atz

“You need to eat.”

Seonghwa nudges a bowl of fish stew towards you. It's piping hot and steaming, you cradle it gratefully with your fingers.

Since you’ve woken up in San’s cabin a few days ago, you’ve taken a few days under the Treasure’s healer’s care to recover from the fever brought on by your infection. San has been nothing but kind to you, even allowing you to sit in the sickbay and watch him while he tends to patients.

Many of the pirates come in and out for check ups on previous wounds, a healing sword gash, an amputated finger. You watch the healer bustle about at work, speaking in a soft, quiet tone when tending to them and making silly jokes to distract them from the pain. His dimpled smile and silly behaviour is somewhat familiar to you now, you can even recognise his whistling from the cabin. Maybe it’s because he is the only person you have on this ship, so you stick to San’s side as much as possible.

The Treasure has already left the cove, sailing out into the open sea once more. San tells you that they are sailing along the coast of Hispaniola to reach Tortuga, but these waters are close to the pirate town Tortuga and the Royal Navy fleets patrol the area to sink any unsuspecting pirates. Their captain has chosen to stay further from land, where the Navy’s fleets can conceal themselves from sight and carry out an ambush on them.

When San brought you onto the main deck the last few days so you could stretch your limbs and breathe some fresh air, all you’ve seen for miles is blue, unending ocean. Being able to walk freely on deck with San’s conversation instead of Mingi’s watchful eye is one of your few joys on this ship.

Today, however, San wants Seonghwa to bring you onto deck.

Your chest is bound, of course, and San swears that no one else on board besides him knows that you are a woman. Women are considered bad luck on ships, and even though San has reassured you that Hongjoong doesn’t believe in silly superstitions, you’d rather not give him another reason to toss you to the sharks. San has agreed to keep your secret, but still, with Seonghwa supporting you, he might notice something.

“Seonghwa’s smart, but when it comes to stuff like this, he can be pretty blind. Don’t worry about it too much.” San had told you in the morning. You decide to trust him on this.

So you take the fish stew in your hands and drink it. You were surprised at first, you thought pirates would have terrible cooking skills, but Seonghwa’s food has always been rich, hearty and filling. With his intense stare on you as you eat, however, you find it difficult to swallow the food.

“Is there something you need?” You ask after narrowly avoiding choking for the third time. Seonghwa’s expression is unreadable, unnerving. You don’t expect anything good to leave his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

At that, you do choke and Seonghwa immediately panics, grabbing a cloth from his pocket and offering it to you. You wave it away, hacking and thumping your chest, careful to avoid where the tiny crystal rests underneath the oversized tunic San lent you.

“What for?” You cough as you set down the bowl, reaching for a mug of green tea on the table. As much as you disliked the drink at first, after being force fed it by San so many times, you’ve come to enjoy its mild, earthy flavour. Seonghwa inhales deeply, as if preparing to say something life altering.

“I’d like to apologize for not noticing your wound sooner.” He bows his head in genuine apology, much to your shock. “I should have realised that you were injured and reported it to Hongjoong earlier. If I did, you wouldn't have fallen ill-”

You're so dumbstruck that you simply stare at him with your mouth hanging wide open. Yeah, he didn't notice, but it wasn't his fault at all. Even if he had noticed, and hadn't done anything to help you, you couldn't blame him. He wasn't obligated to help you in any way.

“It's alright.” You try to cover up your confusion by taking another spoonful of fish stew. “It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you.”

“I wanted to make it up to you, so will you allow me to walk you around deck today? I saw San helping you and thought I might be able to assist in the same way.”

What on earth is wrong with this man? He owes you nothing. How can anyone be so… kind? You were literally nothing more than a stowaway he found on ship, not someone he needed to repay a debt to. But from the determined glint in his eye, he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

“Thank you, then.” You manage to reply hesitantly. It's probably the fastest way to get this done and over with.

Draining the stew, you rise to your feet, and you see Seonghwa move to support your side. He gives you a kind smile. “Are you ready to go?”

Holy shit, this man…

“Yeah…” You clear your throat uncomfortably as he slings one of your arms around his shoulders. They're a little broader than San's, more muscled under his black shirt, and one of his hands come to rest on your side.

Step by step, he carefully moves you towards the door, nudging it open with his foot. The sunlight hits you in the face, and you blink rapidly to clear your sight.

“Clean the cannons properly! I don't want to see a single speck of gunpowder on them, understood?”

“Trim the sails, wind from starboard!”

You're bombarded with activity the moment you step onto the main deck. Pirates rush about, some cleaning out the long barrels of the cannons, some scrubbing down the deck and some mending torn sails. It's strangely domestic, and you can't help but snort at the image of these so called bloodthirsty pirates. Then you remember their captain and you shiver.

“Are you feeling cold?” Seonghwa's concern unnerves you. You shake your head desperately.

“No! I just uhhh…. felt some wind!” You're tempted to smack yourself in the face for your blatant stupidity. “Let's continue moving, shall we?”

He brings you to the front of the ship, where you can see sea waves crashing against the ship's wooden plants in sprays of white. For a moment, you look up and forget that you’re on a ship, all you see is the sun hovering over the horizon and blue sea rolling onwards. You close your eyes and breathe in the warm, salty air, it brings you peace.

“The Treasure is a beautiful ship, isn’t it?”

Your eyes snap open to look at him. Seonghwa has turned around to watch the crew at work on the deck, the smile on his face soft and fond. You know next to nothing about ships, but you do admit she’s very graceful with her pale blue sails and the sheer size of the ship is undoubtedly impressive. You nod.

“I think it is.”

Seonghwa smiles warmly at you then, leaning against the rails of the bulwarks with a happy, content gaze. “She’s a three masted frigate ship, a hundred and three feet long and thirty feet wide. It was one of the Royal Navy’s prides, until Hongjoong single handedly stole it from them without force and repurposed it into a pirate ship of his own.” He gestures at the other end of the ship.

“That’s called the stern. We’re at the bow. When you’re facing the bow of the ship, the right is called the starboard and the left is called port.” The cook tells you. That clears things up from you. Every time you hear someone (especially Mingi) call out ‘wind coming from port’, you think that you’re finally approaching land, but no.

“Thanks for telling me.” You tell him and he nods. You’re not sure why he’s telling you all this, but you suppose that’s his way of trying to make up for something he didn’t do.

“We’re currently on the forecastle deck, and that’s the main deck.” He points a finger at where the main activity is happening. “Above the captain’s cabin is the quarterdeck.”

“Where the captain is.” You mutter under your breath. “I’ll be sure to steer clear of it.”

You didn’t intend for Seonghwa to hear it, but he does anyway. He pauses for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip, eyes flicking between you and the quarterdeck. You start to worry if Seonghwa is unhappy that you’re almost insulting his captain, but then he speaks.

“Don’t take captain personally.” He tries to reassure you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “He does believe that you’re one of the Royal Navy, so you can’t blame him for being cautious. A few years ago, we bargained for one of the most accurate nautical charts in the navy’s possessions and the Navy has been after us ever since. Hongjoong’s worried about it, so he’s cautious of any new stranger on board. Deep down, he really is a kind person at heart.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are so pleading, as if he’s genuinely upset by the thought that you could dislike his captain. You can’t find it in yourself to outright tell him you think his captain is a menace who wouldn’t so much as bat an eyelash if you were tossed overboard this moment and got eaten by sharks. In fact, he might even find it in him to dance a little jig.

“Umm...” Is all you manage in reply. You’re such a smooth talker, you could cry. Seonghwa looks a little disappointed that you don’t believe him, but he gives you a small, understanding smile.

“It’s alright if you don’t see it now.” He says gently, turning to look at the waves with you. “I’m sure you will, eventually. That’s what happened to me too.”

You raise an eyebrow. From what you can see, Seonghwa is nothing like his captain. Even as a pirate, he’s kind hearted, gentle and compassionate. His captain, on the other hand, is exactly like the scourge of the seas.

Then you hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering over to the man beside you. He notices it before you can drop your gaze.

“Is there anything you want to ask? I don’t mind.”

You ask away.

“Do you know who brought me to the sickbay?”

Seonghwa frowns, racking his memory. “It wasn't San? If that's the case, I don't have any idea either. I'm sorry I don't have the answer to your question.”

“It's alright.” You rush to reassure him. “Actually, I have another question. Why did you become a pirate?”

The man suddenly tenses at your question, fingertips digging into the wood of the bulwark railings until his knuckles turn white. You can see his eyes darken ever so slightly and in a single breath he looks like he’s aged a decade, barely restrained pain dancing across his face like the result of a reopened wound.

“You don’t need to answer if you feel uncomfortable.” You rush to amend. The air feels like it’s turned to ice, goosebumps racing over your skin. Seonghwa shakes his head, his tightly wound muscles slowly relaxing under his dark shirt as he eases his grip on the railing.

“No… It’s just a bad memory.” He exhales, but you can hear the lump in his throat. “I didn’t join out of choice.”

Your eyes go wide. “The captain kidnapped you?”

“No!” Seonghwa rushes to stop you, biting his lower lip. “When I was young, my family was killed on suspicion of hiding pirates by the Royal Navy.”

Ahh, the Royal Navy which you’ve heard so much about. The bane of the pirates… who you’re supposed to be.

“That’s sad.” Is all you say.

Seonghwa gives you a weak smile that doesn’t seem quite real, but continues his story anyway. “I managed to escape onto a ship in the harbour… which happened to be the Treasure.”

So it’s somewhat similar to what you’ve experienced so far. Maybe that’s why he’s been treating you more kindly than what you’d expect.

“I’ve been with Captain and the crew ever since.” Seonghwa adds seriously, but there’s a happier, content spark to his eyes. You can hear the little bounce in his voice when he speaks of the crew and the ship. They must be close.

The feeling in your chest that has been there ever since you’ve stepped aboard this ship only grows. It’s alien, unnerving. You don’t recognize it.

You turn away from Seonghwa to stare at the horizon in the distance. For some reason, every time you look at the sea, you’re immediately calmed, the storms of your heart ceasing to nothing but white noise at the back of your mind.

But this time, a small niggling feeling encroaches on your usual sense of calm.

Something cold creeps over your lungs and heart, an unexplainable anticipation and fear. It only grows bigger, more real, and for some reason, you feel like the reason of your distress is only growing closer.

Your head jerks to the left. Your eyes furiously scan the sea you are travelling upon, the dark blue that rushes underneath the ship, but you can’t see anything. Then your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a low groan. It starts off soft at first, but grows in volume gradually until the sound is ringing in your ears. It’s soul wrenching, full of anguish and so desperate like a crying child calling out for his mother that your chest throbs painfully in response to the sound.

Then you hear it.

Come back…

You almost jump in terror. The words aren’t in any language you speak, but you know their meaning clear as glass. The one behind the groan is searching for something, no… someone.

Where did you go?

Your breath suddenly shorten into pants. For another second, you’re heart wrenchingly terrified, almost as much as the time you were running for your life from the Royal Navy. Seonghwa must notice something, because he taps you on the shoulder, his face worried.

“Is something wrong?”

You stare at him in shock. “Do you not hear that noise?”

At your words, his brows furrow. “What noise?”

Why did you leave?

You almost squeak with fright, your hands clapping over your ears. “That noise!”

Seonghwa frowns in concern, reaching out to support you once again. “You must be hearing things because of your head injury.” He tries to reason with you gently, pulling you towards the sickbay. “Come on, let’s get you back to San so he can give you a check up-”

Where are you, Sǣr?

The last word is a scream, a cry of fury and distress. What is Sǣr? Then all of a sudden, you see it.

“There!” You drag Seonghwa with you by the wrist to the bow of the ship, as far as you can go, all blood draining from your face. “Look!”

He strains his eyes, peering out into the horizon and shielding his eyes from the sun. The glare reflecting off the ocean waves make it difficult to see and he doesn’t notice anything different than usual. No ship sails on the horizon, no cause for danger. When he wants to turn around and ask you what you see, you point into the water, right into the distance.

“It’s in the sea!” You shout at him, almost hysterical with fear. Why can’t he see it? “It’s coming!”

Thank the heavens for their grace because Seonghwa doesn’t call you crazy and toss you into the sickbay. He stares in the direction you direct him for a few long, agonizing seconds, before you see his eyes going almost unnaturally wide with horror and his mouth falling open.

The sight might have been comical if you hadn’t been on the verge of wetting your pants in terror.

It’s a massive, dark shape moving underwater, right beneath the surface. It’s still a considerable distance from the Treasure, but at the speed it’s moving, it’ll be upon you in mere minutes. You have no idea what kind of monstrous beast it could be, but you definitely don’t want to find out. Neither does Seonghwa, apparently, because he turns around and sprints across the main deck for the captain’s cabin.

You watch, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as he snatches up an iron bar and hammer, wasting no time in striking it with all the force he has.

The sound rings across the ship and immediately the whole ship ceases activity, waiting in anticipation for a command. Mingi leaps down from the quarter deck in one smooth movement, not even bothering with the stairs. Seonghwa shouts something at him that you can’t quite hear over the distance and the quartermaster dashes up to the forecastle deck to you, boots pounding on the wooden planks.

“Where is it?” Is all he rasps out, eyes scouring the horizon for a glimpse of it. This time, you have no problem locating it, your eyes almost instinctively drawn to its shape. You point at it, and it must be a lot closer and bigger than before, because Mingi sees it almost immediately and his face goes ashen.

“All hands on deck!” Mingi bellows at the crew, who leap into action at once. “Raise the mizzen sail and ready the cannons! We’re going to sail a port beam reach to the wind!”

In front of you, a flurry of activity breaks out over the ship. Along the bulwarks, you see men rushing to untie the cannons which had been previously secured to the main deck, powder monkeys running out from below deck with small white bags of what you assume to be gunpowder. There’s a snapping sound as the massive square sail of the third sail comes down, and you grab for the railing as the Treasure almost flies forward at a speed that seems impossible for such a massive ship.

“Yunho, trim the sails!”

The tall man slides down from the crow’s nest on one of the sheet ropes, landing as nimbly as a cat on the deck. He leads a team of men in hauling on the sheets, tightening them as them prepare to sail perpendicular to the wind.

San joins you at the bow. “It’s big.” He comments about the growing shape dryly. “Probably about two or three times bigger than the ship.”

He’s understating. The monster looks like it could eat the Treasure for breakfast.

“We're travelling at six knots!” You hear someone call from the other side of the ship. Mingi shakes his head furiously.

“Tighten the sheets! We need to move faster than twenty knots!”

“What's a knot?” You ask San.

“A nautical mile per hour.” The healer answers, never taking his eyes off the sea monster. “We measure the ship's speed with  a device called the common log.The speed of the ship is said to be the number of knots counted.”

“And do you know what's chasing us?”

San eyes you with a disgruntled stare. Even the ever calm healer seems a little unnerved. “You could always go overboard and find out.”

“We're gaining in speed!” A man at the starboard shouts, leaning over the rail. “Nine knots now!”

There's a groaning of rope as the sails pivot on their masts to catch the wind, Yunho shouting commands to the sail trimming crew. The ship angles to the left, diverging from its original course.

“Where are we headed?” You swallow uneasily. San shrugs, no more knowledgeable than you.

“Yeosang is trying to find somewhere along the coast we can go ashore or hide from the monster.” He squints at the dark shadow as the ship continues to sail away from the monster. “It may not even be chasing us specifically.”

The dark shape changes course as well, moving right for the ship.

“Well that's a reassuring thought.” You gulp. There's a intent to the massive creature, in the way it moves. No doubt, it's heading for the ship and from how it looks even bigger than before, it's gaining on them.

“Thirteen knots!” The same man bellows, his voice almost breaking in fear. Mingi curses under his breath.

“We're losing ground.” He swears rather colourfully. “Hongjoong-hyung needs to sail a beam reach or we have no chance of outrunning that thing. I predict it's moving at about twenty five knots and that's nearly impossible for us even with a strong wind.”

“What happens if the wind gives out on us?” You mutter to yourself, but Mingi hears you.

“It won't.” The quartermaster replies with a sort of assured confidence, as if he is stating fact. “Not with Captain around.”

You want to argue that the captain can't control the skies, but it seems insistent on proving you wrong. The ship suddenly surges forward with a burst of speed, the bow slicing the sea before them. You're thrown off balance for a moment but manage to hang onto San for dear life. He barely notices your added weight on his arm.

“Hongjoong-hyung has the blessing of a sea god on him.” Mingi tells you bluntly as his eyes continue following the movements of the sea monster. “Usually we rarely encounter any threats of nature on the ocean, but I suppose there's a first time for everything.”

“A sea god?” You repeat skeptically. San nods seriously.

“Even Hongjoong-hyung himself didn't believe it. But there's a pulse around him, a positive, protective energy that reflects the sea and keeps him safe from most storms. Someone drew power from it to place a blessing upon him.”

“Let's hope it's enough to save us.” You mutter nervously as the dark shape draws even closer. The ship is almost skimming the waves now, flying with the wind as it angles towards the left.

“Twenty six knots!”

There's a massive cheer from the ship, but their happiness is cut short when the dark shape puts on a burst of speed, moving towards them with some kind of sinister intent.

Mingi lets out a growl.

“Wooyoung, fire the cannons!”

A young man with striking purple hair leaps to a cannon, as do the rest of the gun crews. He adjusts the cannon, moving it about a swiveling platform before locking it in place with a lever.

“Fire!” His voice rings out and one of the crew hands him a piece of burning slip. He touches it to the cannon.

“Fire in the hole!”

“Cover your ears.” San advises you serenely, his own hands clasped over his ears. You follow suit just before you hear a sound like a massive thunderclap that threatens to split the sky in half.

Jumping into the air, you yelp as you feel your ears ringing at the noise. Your eyes, however, trace the almost too fast flight of the cannonball as it streaks across the sky and smashes into the ocean with incredible force.

There's a moment of silence.

Then a pained roar, so loud and so enraged  that every pirate on the deck almost quakes in fear. Then you hear Yunho call from the rigging.

“Land sighted!”

Your eyes follow his, and you spot a cove with narrow opening, likely too small for the sea monster to enter. So that was their plan.

“This is a dangerous plan.” San murmurs to himself. You look at him worriedly.

“Why? From what I see, it's our best option.”

The healer exhales, frowning. “Yes it is, but we're in Navy infested waters and now we're heading for land, where it'll be difficult for us to catch wind and leave. After that cannon shot, every ship in a ten mile radius would have heard us.”

“But we don't have a choice.” You try to reason. San nods reluctantly.

“That's the problem.”

The ship nears the tiny cove, a narrow passage surrounded on all sides by rocky cliffs. The captain, once again, steers his ship through without the slightest bit of fear, as if he's one with the ship. The sides of the ship barely scrape the walls of cove opening, and once you're through, the crew let out a ateezmassive cheer of relief.

The dark shape presses against the mouth of the cove for a moment, as if trying to squeeze it's way in. You watch with bated breath as the monster hovers there, before letting out an immense roar that shakes the very masts of the ship and causes the treasure to rock back and forth unsteadily, a quivering shadow in the deep.

For a brief second, you suddenly see it and your breathing cuts off in a gasp of realization.

It's staring at you, just like before. A colossal shape that glows a brilliant crimson, the colour of blood.

There's another seething roar that causes the sails to shake in the wind and the crew to rush to cover their ears before the shadow vanishes into the depths, as abruptly as it has come.

The crew aboard the ship break out in cheers and hollers of excitement, but you merely slump against the rails of the bulwark, hands trembling as you try to come to terms with what you have just realised.

It was the eye from your dream.

[midnightseonghwa]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐤.𝐲𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐧��𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟒

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Merman!Yeosang x Drowning!Reader  

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mermaid, Halloween Au, fluff 

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: Arms crossed over your heart, you’re ready to fling yourself off the edge of a cliff but good thing Yeosang is there to save you.  Alternatively: “To hold a love that knows no elements.”  

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Strong langauge, mentions of death, suicide and drowning. Yeosang is shirtless (he’s a merman...). He’s quite fascinated with you, slightly obsessive themes and stalkerish themes.

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Here is the mernman Yeosang...oh boy...how exciting! I hope you like it! I watched his v live where he wore the pumpkin hat and oh my god! He looked so cute with his little ponytail. This took me wayyyyyy too long to write and I know many of you were excited and stuff but like I’m not very satisfied with how this turned out? I will revisit this once I’m done with all au-s. 

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy​

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here 

The waves crashed into the rocks under you as you peeked down at the sea with dried tear stains on your cheeks.

"(Y/n)," a voice called out from the back and you closed your eyes, not wanting to hear your brother's voice for a second longer.

"G-go...go away, Seonghwa," you said, your voice tight and scratchy. Hiccups escaped your mouth, each one making the bruises on your chest hurt more.

The ocean wind whipped at your hair, making it stick to your wet cheeks and the snot running down your face.

"(Y/n), you're being stupid again. Step away from there, now," he said and walked closer with his hand stretched out.

"That's all I am for you anyway. Stupid," you spat but your voice got lost in the wind, your sobs overpowering and breaking each syllable.

"Come on, (Y/n)..." Seonghwa huffed in distress and reached out further for you.

"You don't have to do this. Please, just think it through."

His words fell on deaf ears, every thought leaving your head empty and spiralling.

"I've thought about it enough, Seonghwa. It's time for me to take action."

With that, you crossed your arms over your thumping heart and threw yourself off the cliff, every regret leaving your body.

You were finally free.

Silence surrounded your shivering form as you floated through the blue abyss. It felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in your ears. The water felt smooth and silky and left every part of your skin caressed with the hands of the ocean.

The salt stung your eyes as you managed to open them. The world above you looking blue through the lens with the refracted rays of white sunlight hitting your form. Trying to desperately blink away any sort of illusion, you felt a burning feeling rise in your chest.

The fire was so great, spreading through your entire body before you started struggling, pushing yourself up with your hands but no matter how close you thought you were to the surface, you never seemed to reach it.

That's when you realised...you were going to die.

You had wanted it, standing above sea level, ignoring your brother. But now, all you really wanted was...air.

Were you really free?

Your hands thrashed around the water, trying to grab onto anything that might provide you with aid but the quiet hum of the ocean waves above you reminded you that there was nothing.

You were alone, just as you had been your entire life.

The pain in your chest started subsiding to a dull throb and you felt your eyes grow heavy, the liquid weighing down on them. Forcing them to stay open, you thrashed around with the last of your might but to no avail, you started fading.

Eyes fluttering close, you felt your throat close up, the last bit of oxygen leaving your body. With an impending sense of doom, you closed your eyes, hoping that the ocean would spit you out instead of swallowing you whole.

You coughed. Once, twice and a third time until you shot awake, salty water flooding out of your system, each hack paining your lungs and causing your body to shake. Your hair was stuck to your face, every strand, dead and dry as reached up to wring the water out of it.

The ground under your limbs was hard and cold. Icicles shooting up your legs, rendering them numb and disabled.

"You...you're awake," you heard someone call and take a breath of relief. Whipping your head around, you squinted and examined your surrounding trying to figure out if you were already dead or not.

"Purgatory sure is shit," you muttered and took a deep breath of the salty air before stopping and looking around again.

"Is purgatory under the ocean?" You asked, completely bewildered, feeling even more lost when a certain figure attracted the attention of your eyes.

"Who...?" You trailed off and rubbed at your eyes, the reminiscent salt making your eyes sting, scratching it raw.

The figure was looking at you with narrowed eyes. His skin and hair as pale as snow, the upper portion of his body completely...naked. His porcelain skin was almost glinting in contrast to the onyx rocks as he sat with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Who are you?" The question tumbled from your lips before your brain had even registered your situation.

"Kang Yeosang," he said and you heard a bit of splashing in the water below.

Curiously, you let your eyes drift down and almost screamed at the sight of a tail instead of legs. Pushing yourself against the hard rock wall, you swallowed the gasp that was threatening to bubble up your throat and clapped a hand over your mouth. Eyes roaming, you studied his tail. The rich blue scales glistened as the little light reflected off it and his fins curved in, delicately, a translucent blue. The scales looked as if they were sequins made of the finest sapphires and were sewed in by the most skilled hands.

A bit extravagant for a Halloween costume.

"You have a tail," you stuttered out and crawled forward to the edge of the rock platform you had been placed on. The water beneath you was a dark murky blue, the depths of it unfathomable as the creatures lurked underneath.

"You're stating the obvious," the male snorted and pushed himself off the rock, swimming towards you with an offhanded curiosity that glittered in his eyes.

Approaching your figure close to the jagged edge of the rocks, he held his hand out and you found yourself slowly leaning towards him, eyes wide as you got lost in his, the dark brown surrounding you with a sense of normalcy.

His touch was soft, unlike his narrowed eyes and snarky look. Dainty fingers traced your jaw as they tapped along your cheeks and played with your hair strands.

You observed all his sharp but delicate features as they matched the energy of the sea, every wave like his unflickering eyes. Before you knew it, you were leaning closer to the water, closer to where he was before he jerked you back by the shoulder, the tip of your nose almost touching the water.

"For a species that's supposed to be smart, you sure are stupid," Yeosang said and checked you over once before swimming further into the water. Resuming your position against the rock wall again, you brought your knees up to your chest, wiggling your toes to get rid of the freezing numbness was that was taking over.

"You humans have such odd features," Yeosang commented as he swam around a bit before resting his arms and head on the rock platform. His platinum blond hair stuck to his forehead as some of the strands came down into his eyes.

"And what do you know about humans?" You asked and narrowed your eyes a bit, getting oddly defensive at his careless comment.

"Nothing actually. I've always heard about them from my brothers. You're the first one I'm seeing up close."

Gulping, you crossed your legs and leaned against the rocks, the pointed edges digging into your back, making every small move uncomfortable.

"When can I go home?" You asked to no one in particular but Yeosang just snorted and flicked some water at you.

"The one I caught drowning, now wants to go home?"

There was a certain sarcasm in his voice that just didn't sit right with you. He had stabbed you right where the festering wound was and you bit your lip, swallowing every bit of abuse and inhaled the salty ocean air instead.

"Can you at least tell me where I am?"

Yeosang looked around, the moon had now risen on top of you and was visible from a tiny hole in the rocky walls.

"An island a couple kilometres from where you jumped," he said as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

You looked around once more, seeing nothing but saltwater dripping from onyx coloured rocks and more pointed edges.

"How do I get out of here?" You said Yeosang gave a bit of a sad look.

"Why would you want to leave? Just live here! You didn't want to live anyways so you can think of this as your fresh start." Yeosang rushed before his face turned a bright red and he ducked his head into the water.

The words that flew out of his mouth were fast and didn't quite register in your head until you went through every letter he had uttered.

"Huh...?" Were the only words that left your mouth until you heard a huff from Yeosang who had now begun to swim away. It was strange to you that a half fish-man would have any sort of fascination with you even if it was purely just scientific.

But then again, you are the first human he's ever seen up close.

You watched with a confused face as Yeosang's blue tail flipped on the surface before disappearing into the blue abyss again.

Yeosang swam through the reef as he came face to face with his older brother, Hongjoong.

"Where have you been?" He asked, the red scales on his tail resembling a fiery colour.

"Somewhere," Yeosang replied and tried to move past his brother when a hand caught him.

"Wooyoung said he saw you lurking by the surface again, says that you've brought a human into the ocean."

Hongjoong's voice was cold and hostile. In entire merfolk history, never has a human ever been intertwined with their kind and for good reason. Humans were simply just too extreme for their own good. See something pretty, they'll hunt it until it's extinct. See something foreign and they'll alienate it.

"And what if I have?" Yeosang bit back with a snarl in his voice getting defensive about the human he had been observing for a while now.

"What's so special about this human," Hongjoong said and Yeosang found himself thinking back to the first day he saw you.

You had been sitting on one of the rock clusters near the beach, crying. Bleeding from the strange fingers that you had attached to your lower body as you furiously wiped at the blood with seawater, only for it to sting some more.

Absolutely fascinated by your odd state, Yeosang found himself lurking by the surface often, just to catch a glimpse of you.

He heard those other humans call you by your names, (Y/n) and what a pretty name he thought it was. Prettier than any of the pearls he would collect from the sea.

And oh, how his heart almost stopped when he saw you floating alone in the empty ocean. He had seen you enough to understand that you couldn't breathe in water. You didn't have the gills he did at the side of his neck. You needed that foul-smelling air to survive.

"I saved that human," he replied watched as Hongjoong's eyes widened before narrowing distastefully.

"Where are you keeping the human?" He asked in a clipped tone and Yeosang's shoulder dropped before he told his elder brother of the small island he was keeping you on.

"Return this human to the surface, Yeosang. And make sure we never hear of this again."

With that, Hongjoong swam away, his red tail flicking aggressively as he pushed himself through the water disappearing from Yeosang's view.

Yeosang watched as his elder brother swam away with sad eyes. He had only begun to exchange a few words with you and his brother was already telling him to return you to the surface. But he knew the truth. Yeosang knew how much you hated the surface, there was nothing for you there! At least under the sea, you'd have him and maybe even his brothers after they come around.

Sinking to the ocean floor, Yeosang let out a few tears fall out of his eyes and watched as they turned to sea glass, hitting the sandy floor before getting washed away with the slow current.

He's going to have to return you to the surface.

You coughed. Once, twice and a third time until you shot awake, salty water flooding out of your system, each hack paining your lungs and causing your body to shake. Your hair was stuck to your face, every strand, dead and dry as reached up to wring the water out of it.

The ground beneath you was soft and warm and you were reminded of the warm sun that would often soak your bones as you played with Seonghwa in the backyard of your childhood home. It was different that time, the chilling cold of loneliness never cracked at your bones and you were satisfied with your, completely wholesome.

"You...you're awake," you heard a voice say as you sat up, clutching the back of your head in pain. You were half expecting the half fish-man to greet you again but instead, you saw Seonghwa's piercing gaze looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"(Y/n), don't you ever do that again," he said as he collected you in his arms and held you close.

You bit back the feeling of sadness that bubbled up in the back of your throat. You never wanted to see Seonghwa again, your elder brother who had made the recent past of your life a living hell but yet, he tried to talk you down and then was also the one to find you.

You had every reason to be grateful to an extent.

"Seonghwa, just..." you trailed off and pushed your brother off you slightly, dusting the sand that clung to every crevice of your body.

A lump of green caught your eye as you moved to lift yourself up from the sand. Clutching the small parcel like thing, you unwrapped what seemed to be seaweed to find small pieces of translucent sea glass that thrummed under the sweltering sun of the beach. Each one had a blue-ish colour and the familiar blue hue of the half fish-man's tail crept into your head. Shaking your head, you wrapped the seaweed again and tucked the small parcel into drenched clothes.  

"Let's go home, (Y/n)," Seonghwa said as he pulled you forcefully towards town.

Looking back over your shoulder one last time, you blinked as you saw a mop of platinum blond hair bop in the ocean. Just as you snatched your hand out of Seonghwa's to go closer, the ocean stilled again, leaving you with nothing but the curling waves.

"You're thinking about that human," San, one of Yeosang's brothers stated with a sigh as he settled next to Yeosang on the rock.

"No..." Yeosang trailed off and watched the fragments of sea glass drift away into the ocean current that glittered under the sunlight.

"Yes, you are," San pushed and Yeosang just sighed, ripping one of the seaweeds out of its roots and tearing it apart in frustration.

"I'm just so fascinated by (Y/n). There's something about that human that calls to me, San," he said and pouted at the fish that floated through the coral reef.

"Then go to them," San concluded with a determined tone and Yeosang just looked at his brother with narrowed eyes.

"Hongjoong would never allow that," he said and flicked the end of his tail,  losing all hope and sulking.

San sighed in frustration and grabbed Yeosang by the arm, dragging him through the ocean by his arm, inching closer to the surface.

Breaking through the water surface, San and Yeosang settled near a cluster of rocks, the wind whistling and mixing with the ocean sunlight.

Human littered the shore, some walking their dogs and others just sitting on the sand. Yeosang's eyes searched for yours but in a crowd filled with strange limbs, he never saw yours.

"(Y/n)'s not here" he sighed and dived back into the ocean, San following.

As Seonghwa dragged you through town, you found yourself cowering under the gaze of all the individuals you thought you had left behind. The stares and the whispers, isolating you from the world just as they had before.

Seonghwa didn't stop until he had reached your room and pushed you inside of it.

"You're going to stay here until I deem it safe for you to go out again. What do you think mother and father would've thought if they saw you now, huh?" He demanded and you hung your head in shame.

The sound of Seonghwa exiting the room and locking the door echoed through the drab grey walls as you sat on the single bed with white bedsheets wallowing away in your self-pity and loneliness as you had in the past.

Days passed and you found yourself teetering on the edge of insanity, with nothing but the grey walls staring back at you.

Trying your luck for the fourth time today, you banged your hand against the door as the sound of footsteps shuffled closer.

"Seonghwa...please...just please let me out. I'm going to crazy in here," you cried and banged on the door one last time before your brother's face appeared in front of you.

"(Y/n)," he sighed and pushed a plate of food into your hands before closing the door again.

Only this time, you jammed your foot in between, preventing your elder brother from closing the door.

"What-" he started but wasn't able to finish as you thrust the plate of food into his hand, shoving him aside and running towards the front door and throwing yourself to the wind.

Seonghwa watched with frustration in his eyes as you ran, barefoot through the town.

This time, he'd have to let you go, his little sister.

Yeosang yelped with peaking curiosity and a racing heart as he saw a human sitting on the same cluster of rocks he had first seen you on. Said human was bleeding from their toes, scrubbing at them with saltwater furiously.

The merman found himself thinking about you again as he inched closer, hoping it was you.

Ripples formed in the water under you, causing you to look up and squint into the distance. A familiar blue tail diving into the distance caught your attention as you hurried to your feet, diving into the ocean again, trying your best to follow the tail.

The gashes on your feet stung with the salt being rubbed in the wounds but you wanted to catch the blue tail. Your lungs burned, the lack of oxygen reaching your head, making you dizzy.

Before you knew it, a hand reached to grab your ankle, pulling you close and into their chest. You opened your eyes, eyeball stinging as you saw Yeosang in front of you, his platinum blond hair sticking up in the water.

You opened your mouth in shock, a rush of bubbles leaving your mouth as Yeosang drew you close and pressed his lips to yours.

There was a sense of urgency in the kiss, desperation that you had never felt as he moulded his lips against yours, air entering your system, flooding it to life.

You pushed yourself away from him, feet kicking as you tried to reach the surface, clawing at our throat to rid the closing feeling.

Yeosang rubbed at your arms in an indication to calm down.

"(Y/n), just calm down and take deep breaths," he said and but you shook your head and continued to struggle, pulling away from him with thrashing arms.

He was trying to kill you.

"Just please, let me go. I'll find a way to go back to the island you had held me on, I don't want to die like this," you said and breathed in only for Yeosang to chuckle and stroke your cheek.

He found you so impossibly endearing that his brother's words felt like some sort of blur in his mind.

"You can breathe fine," he said and let you go, only for you to freeze up and take another breath just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your throat opened up and found yourself taking deeper inhales just to put Yeosang's theory to test.

"Holy shit," you whispered as you stared at the blue-tailed boy in front of you.

"How did you...what did you?" Your lack of words made Yeosang smile as he swam towards you slowly, pulling you by the arm and leading you deeper into the water,

The water shimmered under the sunlight that reached the surface as the bottom morphed into an inky blue. Fish of different colours swam by you as they tickled your skin, giggles escaping you at the sensation.

Yeosang stayed quiet as he watched you marvel at everything his world could offer.

If only he was a human or you were a mermaid, maybe he would have an actual chance at winning your heart. This thought made Yeosang frown as his heart dropped to his stomach. His sensitive scales bristled against the water due to his sudden mood change and you felt the water around you get colder.

"Are you okay, fish-man?" You asked and drew your eyebrows in with concern.

Yeosang shook his head and scoffed lightly, trying his best to change his mood and divert your attention to another topic.

"My name isn't fish-man. It's Yeosang, I've already mentioned it to you before."

There was a tone of annoyance in his voice and you couldn't help but give him a playful smile which he happily returned.

Swimming further, Yeosang led you back to the small island where you had first woken up.

Hosting yourself up onto the rocks, you looked around at the drab atmosphere and inhaled, feeling good to have some oxygen in you.

"Isn't there any vegetation here?" You asked and Yeosang just tilted his head in confusion.

"This is the only part that's connected to the water. You can try and find a way out but I won't be able to help you," he said and brought the tip of his fins out of the tail, flicking some water at you.

"Oh, alright," you said, slightly disheartened at the reminder that Yeosang wasn't human like you.

Yeosang must have seen the drop of your expression as he quickly swam up to you and hoisted himself up so that he was at the same level as you.

"You'll never be alone, though," he said and pushed some of your wet hair out of your face.

"You're still a stranger to me," you whispered back and he smiled.

"You're not one to me and I'll try my best to not be one to you either. Although now that I've saved your life twice, I would say we're past the stranger phase."

You gave a dry laugh and squeezed some of the water out of your clothes causing the seaweed wrapped sea glass fragments to fall out.

You reached up to tuck it back into your clothes when Yeosang's hand grabbed it first.

"You...you found this?" He asked and you nodded, slightly scared he was going to accuse you fo stealing something precious.

"What is it?" You asked, voice pitchy as you tried to hide your growing panic.

"My tears," he said and you found all panic fade as sadness replaced it instead.

Silence lingered in the air as you stared at the translucent blue glass pieces.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he just shook his head.

"It's alright, I left them with you for a reason. I just didn't think you would find them, let alone keep them," he finished and pushed himself back into the water.

"They're very tragically beautiful," you said and laid them out in front of you. They had faded in colour a little but they still no doubt resembled Yeosang's blue tail.

"My brothers just don't understand my fondness for you," he sighed and pushed himself below the water before raising his eyes to meet you again.

You pushed your legs forward, just enough to dip your toes into the water.

Yeosang swam around in circles before stopping in front of you.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he said and cocked his head like a little puppy asking for a treat.

You hummed in response, completely ignoring the fact that he knew your name even though you never told him.

"Who's that human that always makes you sad? He was there when I saw you jump from the cliff."

The question made you stiffen and stare at your toes as they dipped in and out of the water.

"His name's Seonghwa...he's my elder brother," you said and Yeosang just nodded, oddly watching your legs.

"I don't like him," he concluded like a small child and you laughed, tilting your head back and Yeosang swore it was the prettiest sound that had ever graced his ears.

"I don't either," you said and rested your chin on your folded elbows that were rested on top of your knees.

"I can sacrifice him to the sirens, if you want," Yeosang suggested and you laughed again.

"That's so romantic," you said and smiled at the way Yeosang's face lit up.

"Anything for you," he said and your heart soared at the declaration. This half fish-man wore his heart on his sleeve and it seemed as if it was for you.

"Thank you, that'd be nice."

Silence once again engulfed the atmosphere as you watched Yeosang play with the water. It was comforting to hear the water drip from the jagged edges of the rock.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he asked once again and you raised your head.

"Yeah?"

"What are those strange things attached to your lower body?" He asked with a certain childlike innocence that made you want to coo and stroke his hair.

"You mean..." you sniggered and pulled your legs closer.

"My legs?" Your lips curled up into a smile as you broke out into the heartiest laughter that ever racked your body.

"Oh, they're called legs. What about those small fingers?" He said and touched one of your toes, swimming back slightly when you wiggled them in his face.

"They're called toes," you said and watched in inhumane curiosity as Yeosang inspected them, only to bring his face close and sniff them.

"What are you- no! You're not supposed to put them in your mouth! Yeosang, stop!"

The waves crashed onto the shore as you peeked down at the sea with a smile on your face.

The sun was bright above your head as the cool wind blew through your hair, making you close your eyes and reminisce in the feeling.

"(Y/n)," you heard a voice call and you giggled at the smooth tone of the voice that was calling your name.

"Are you ready?" Yeosang called and you smiled, crossing your arms over your chest and jumping into the water below, squealing due to the pure delight.

Landing in the water with a gush of bubbles, Yeosang wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close for a kiss as he gifted you with the ability to breathe underwater.

"Let's go," he said and you nodded, letting yourself be pulled by Yeosang as you watched his blue scales twinkle in the ocean and his tail flicker seamlessly along with the current.

You were finally free.

[cybrfang]

Just What You Needed... A Sick Day.

Anon Asked: Could you do a fic where Marko takes care of his sick, human girlfriend please? :) This has taken forever, and it might have been more comedic and focused on the downfall. My bad lol...

You had been out all day, buying some new clothes. You still have a lot of your old clothes with you… but after moving into the cave with the guys, all of what you had started getting the after effects of surprise hugs. Leaving what you would be wearing covered in blood, that you couldn’t (for the life of you) wash out. And trust me, you tried everything. Lemon and bleach, bleach alone, alcohol, and even fire. But it’s not like you had the guts to go and send everything you owned to the dry cleaners. That just sounded like too many questions that you didn’t have the answers to. 

“What would I even say the blood was? Fucking jam? How much jam would I be eating to destroy an entire wardrobe!” You mumbled to yourself, shaking your head in amusement. You let out a loud sneeze, the dust around you floating in the air. Pulling out your hand sanitizer, you let out a groan. You normally squeezed your nose shut before a sneeze, but oh well. 

You would feel too horrible if you asked the boys to stop hugging you when they got back from a hunt, and besides, you definitely enjoyed the hugs. They chased the loneliness away after being in the cave by yourself for a few hours. So a weekly shopping trip with Max’s credit cards was the solution. Dwayne had slipped it into your wallet once and refused to take it back. 

The haul was pretty good today. Though you didn’t buy everything you brought home… the boys always said if it was a big corporation and you can do it, definitely rob ‘em blind. You were starting to pick up a few bad habits from them. What you did buy we’re some new tank tops, a few pairs of pants, three pairs of shorts, new boots, and even some new underwear. Your underwear was fine, but you figured Marko wouldn’t mind something new. You could even imagine the way his face would light up, and his entire body would somehow twitch. 

You were putting your clothes away in your part of the cave when a massive headache bloomed behind your eyes, and spread to your temple. It didn’t slow you down though, you figured it was there due to a lack of sleep. Staying up with the boys all night and being up half the day wasn’t really good for your body. But with the plan tonight in mind, you figured you should take a little more care of yourself. So you popped some Advil and keep organizing your stuff. 

You started making some food when you noticed your sinuses had gotten clogged all to hell. You had noticed your nose running earlier on the boardwalk, but you figured the pollen was just trying to fuck with you. But now it seemed like something else, putting your nerves on end. You started scanning around the cave, looking for some Claritin, or one of those sticks that you’d shove up your nose and snort. Anything that would help you feel better. 

“Please let this just allergies… PLEASE let this just be allergies!” You doubted it, but tried to ignore those thoughts and the feeling of the cave just getting way too cold. Even though it was a nice 98 degrees out, with a slightly there kinda breeze. 

It was when you started to change your clothes that your mouth started salivating. You groaned as your stomach started clenching, flipping over and over. Just in a shirt, you went to wander over towards the cave opening, gripping the rocks along the wall as you went. The air pressed onto your sweaty face, almost like it was trying to push you over and watch you tumble backwards. You shuddered, holding your stomach and slowly lowering yourself into your knees. 

“No… I don’t want to…” You felt tears quickly well up in your eyes as you whimpered. You absolutely hated the feeling of getting sick. And you couldn’t deny that you were probably racking up some kind of fever.  It was too painful for you to handle, vomiting that is. The thought of vomiting without your control made you sob out loud, spitting the liquid in your mouth onto the ground. You had your eyes shut, while you tried to take deep breaths. So you missed the noise behind you as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

You finally heard the sound of rushing footsteps, but you were already rushing over to the edge, all the contents in your stomach forcing itself up your throat. You were loudly crying now from the strained clenching of your body.  A hand reached out to touch your stomach, while the other rubbed your back. The feeling of being held made you feel overwhelmed, like you were tiny. 

“Shhh…shhhh it’s okay babe… I got you.” Marko whispered into your ear, pulling you close to his cold body. 

You started trembling horribly as your crying worsened, snot falling from your nose. All you wanted to do was rest your head on the rocks, but each time you tried, your stomach would clench again, giving you a small warning before you puked what little you had left in your system. 

Your eyes were burning from the tears when you stopped throwing up, calming down enough to just become exasperated with the whole situation. Marko waited for you to breathe normally again before he picked you up, pulling you against his chest. You peeked open your eyes, clutching his jacket as he walked you back to your bed. 

“God Marko, I feel like shit man.”

“Oh really? I didn’t notice.” He chuckled, squeezing you closer against him. 

He made it seem like you were water and he was desperately trying to stop you from leaking from his cupped hands. Over the top you know.  You were used to him being pretty dramatic, but with you feeling this bad, it made you want to act smaller than you were, and he knew that pretty well. 

 Marko finally placed you under the covers, and as he went to pull away,  he jerked forward and fell next to you. You watched his eyes process what had just happened with some amusement. He slowly looked down towards your hands to see you gripping his jacket. He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“I’m sorry hot stuff… I didn’t know I was gon-”

“Y/N it’s fine, it’s fine! Don’t freak out about it.” He gave you a crooked smile, reaching out to wipe a tear sliding down your cheek. “I mean it’s not like you planned to throw up your intestines all over our welcome mat.”

You let out a sharp laugh, inhaling too quickly and snorting. It killed your pounding head but it made Marko’s face light up and join you. You should’ve felt stupid for apologizing, it wasn’t your fault for getting sick and you knew that. But on tonight of all nights? How could you really be that stupid? 

Marko’s laughter died, his eyebrow raising while watching your face contort with exasperation. He reached out and pressed his thumb against the middle of your eyes, smoothing down the skin. 

“Don’t you dare beat yourself up, or I’m gonna have to beat you up. Then I’ll have to beat me up for beating you!” He pushed off the bed, leaving you to groan at how lame his joke was. 

“Why do you always get so unfunny when I get sick?” You questioned, watching him look around your room. 

“Cuz I’m mostly just worried about you babe, can’t be on my A-game all the time.” He picked up an extra blanket that had found its way on the floor, turning around to tuck you in with it. “Especially not when I’m overthinking and scared as hell that something’s really wrong.” He looked back at your face and gave you a smile. “Even though I know it’s just a small thing.”

Your chest felt tight, and your heart sped up. Why did he have to be so over dramatic and sweet at the same time. You think you could quite literally die with how happy he made you at the moment. 

“Oh Marko… I’ll be alright. I’m just a little sick that’s all. It must’ve been something I ate.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, grabbing the blanket and pulling it closer to your neck. 

You missed Marko’s smile dropping as he watched you try and wrap yourself up like a burrito. He reached out and stopped you, tucking the blanket under one side of you while keeping the other free. 

“Nooooo… I’m so cold, you gotta tuck my other side.” You pouted at him, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes. Before he could explain why he did what he did, you started hacking into your elbow. Your throat felt like it was tearing down the center with each cough. When you finally stopped, you let out a sigh almost like a moan. 

“What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me,-” You rolled your eyes but gave him a weak smile at his attempt at humor. “-If your cold as hell, then you’re probably gonna get hot as fuck later.” He reached forwards and swept your hair from out of your eyes, smiling expectantly at you. You saw a remnant of something familiar in Marko’s eyes as he looked down at you with such a fond look on his face. You had a feeling you knew what he was thinking about. 

“Remind me-” you started, reaching up to stroke his jawline. “-if we ever meet your little brother, I need to thank him for all the nurse lessons you got looking while after him.“ 

Marko let out a loud chuckle, his face warming at the thought of his brother. But another thought made his smile turn into a smirk.

“Do you think I should get a sexy nurse uniform, maybe prance around and talk in a soft high pitched voice?” Marko stood back, walking around while lifting himself to make him look like he was a graceful dancer. “Oh you don’t look so good suga’, maybe I should give you the big needle now instead of later!” His voice was raised a few octaves, with a southern lisp to it. 

“You already do that on the daily hot lips, there’s no need to be ashamed about it.”

“Ah ah ahh don’t be so mean, I was thinking about giving you a sponge bath later tonight, I would’ve had to get in with you and everything.” Marko pointed at you like you had done a serious wrong, his free hand on his hip.

After a second of silence you both laughed, Marko sitting down on the edge of your bed. A tickle in your throat had you coughing softly again, letting it build up into something hard and violent. This time the sides of your throat seemed to cave in. You were about to complain when you felt the cold leave your body. It was a short lived relief as you started kicking the blankets off of you. Marko rushed back to your side, placing one of his colder hands on your forehead, while the other was placed on your abdomen. 

“Ya know we could’ve played with the sexy nurse and sick patient role play after the whole initiation thing tonight.” You mumbled, letting out a forlorn sigh, closing your eyes tightly. “Where are the rest of the guys anyway?” You asked.

“I sort of told them to just beat it while I took care of you. They’re with Star playing the bait game, so when you get better you’ve got your pick of food.”

You nauseous again and suddenly there was a bucket in your hands. Marko must’ve grabbed it when he found the blanket for you. There was nothing left in your stomach, but the idea of finally killing someone and drinking their blood made the acid down there want to call it quits now. 

“Sorry I completely forgot that’s something gross to a living human being. It’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner ya know?” He rubbed the exposed bit of your back as the vomiting quieted down. You dropped the bucket, not caring if anything spilled out. Lucky for Marko, none did. 

“Tonight was supposed to be the night I became one of you guys… I was supposed to become family and I got sick!” Your arms flailed out around you when you put the emphasis on the word sick. 

“…But you’re already family (Y/N). No matter when you become one of us… you already are one of us.” Marko stated, pushing you back down on the bed. “And let me repeat myself from earlier, you didn’t plan on puking up your guts tonight did you?“ 

Marko let out a ‘hmmmm’ of approval as you shook your head no. He kept going before you could beat yourself up again. 

“When you feel better, the first thing we’re all going to do is shove that wine down your throat, and take  you out for a ride. How does that sound beautiful?”

A sigh slipped from your lips and the images of you sitting behind Marko, your eyes a brilliant yellow. 

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” You giggled as he leaned down to kiss you firmly on your forehead. 

“Now that that’s settled, I have to find you a few things. Probably some soup, NyQuil, a thermometer, ice pack, and some water.” He paused while you sniffled, the sound was clogged and slimy. “Let’s add  a humidifier to that list. I’ll be back in a second. You know where the bucket is, and don’t fully cover yourself with the blanket.”

He stood up to leave, but stopped when you called out to him. 

“Can you find some eye drops, my eyes are burning like crazy right now." 

"Sure,  just call me Dr. Marko and I’ll be at your beck and call.” He did a curtsy, lifting at your laugh. 

“Yeah… I preferred the nurse really. Nurse Marko just seemed… sexier.”

“That’s it, no sponge bath tonight, and no fluffing when you feel better.”

“But Marko!!”

The last thing you heard was a playful chuckle, and he was gone. But it was fine, you could just give him hell when he got back. You really could just die of happiness right now.

[rivalry-trope-enjoyer]

Cursed Number (Kazunari)

Ship: Kazunari Miyoshi x reader

Rating: SFW (mentions of alcohol, but primarily fluff). 

WC: 2,315

A/N: This is kind of my first x reader that I’ve done in a while, trying to break writer’s block and seeing where this goes <3.

It was something about the dreaded aura that filled the air the moment you stepped into the house. It reeked of strong-scented cologne and body odor all around you. If you had liked parties in the past, stepping into this one immediately changed that. 

A man walked up to you with a red cup and masking tape pieces scattered all over his clothes, sauntering his way towards you and walking from side to side. “Hey, you there...!” he slurred his words together before scribbling on a random number on a piece of tape and handed it to you, nearly stumbling downwards as he patted the tape onto your shirt and crashed to the floor. “Now go and have some fun!” he groaned out with laughter. 

You already felt extreme discomfort and tried to find a single place on the couch, one that was not drenched in spilled drinks or tipped over dip, cacophonous music bouncing from wall to wall and instantaneously wriggling into your ear. You were afraid to move, everyone around you had seemed so zombified by the overall vibe of the place.

Just as you thought you could finally breathe, after seconds of something happening, a group of college students, some you recognized from lectures immediately started crowding over the couch, not minding your presence, and sticking a bottle flat in the middle of the space.

“Alright, anyone down for some seven minutes in heaven?! 

That cursed number. 

You thought to yourself, Why does it seem everywhere I go it ends up like this?! 

You rose to get up to avoid the game, but immediately the same drunken man that gave you a number blocked the exit, and you were forced to sit dangerously close next to a blonde boy with a sunny demeanor. He laughed as the bottle began to spin, while you cursed at him and the entire party internally. 

You watched the glass bottle spin for what felt like eternity, anxiously tapping your foot as surprise, surprise, it landed between you and the blonde boy, and you turned to look at him, but his eyes were elsewhere. 

He watched the closet door open ominously, and the blonde man was quickly shoved inside, you practically coming with. It was a dark, cramped space, and immediately terror struck.

The moment the closet doors shut and the lock clicked, you covered your mouth with your sweaty palms in order to keep it down. Panic rose to your throat, and the blonde man next to you tried to speak. 

“I know this is all really sudden, and it looks like you aren’t really having a good time right now, aren’t you?” his tone was a warm light in the middle of the darkness you were stuck in, and he immediately shined a flashlight at his shoes. 

The space between you two was little, but not uncomfortable enough to let out a blood-curdling scream. You looked at him letting out a goofy smile with a flashlight in his hand. He seemed almost radiant.

You shrugged your shoulders, lowering your hands once you saw he had no awful intent. “I came here on my own,” you sighed. 

“Mhm, and I’m guessing it didn’t turn out well?” he continued to talk, but you were stunned at the fact he made no other advances. 

You looked up at him in shock, and he took out his phone and a pair of headphones. “You gotta always take a friend with you to these kinds of things! They’re not entirely the safest, so I’m glad I caught you,” he spoke so enthusiastically, it made you forget about the entire situation as a whole. 

“Sorry...,” you spoke out awkwardly, space closing in between you guys as he took out his phone to an empty contact space.

“That’s alright! My name’s Kazunari, I’ll go by Kazu, or whatever nickname you feel like using later. If you need a friend, we can add each other on Instablam,” he laughed after, and immediately became contagious, causing you to let out a little chuckle. 

You instantaneously reached out to the phone, but hearing the laughter outside of the closet made you remember that once you two get out of there, it would rain hellfire.

Kazunari noticed the panic that rose to your face, and he swapped out of the contacts and onto YouTube. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want, but... there’s this seven minute video on a bunch of kittens getting fed if you wanna watch that. It doesn’t even have to be kittens, it can be puppies, too!”

You could not believe what you were hearing right now, but he scrolled through all of these cute animal videos that captured your heart, in a similar way this seemingly knight in shining armor has. 

“That’s nice of you,” you spoke out of your panic, and immediately, Kazunari huddled next to you for support, handing you a headphone to watch the video he gestured towards. He let you pick between videos and it ultimately led to the kitten one.

For only a couple minutes you both sat close by the phone, arms touching and subtle hints of laughter and glee coming out of both of your guys’ mouth. Your head traveled to Kazunari’s shoulder, and naturally, his available arm fell over yours.

Blush rose to your cheeks at the act, the warm feeling that you got from Kazunari’s kindness was not because of the humid closet, or the cute animals that soothed your panic, but the gentle soothing gestures he gave you, enough to close your eyes for a moment and mentally thank him for what he had done for you. 

You had just met him, and you weren’t sure if he knew your name, but immediately this situation caused by a cursed number turned into a seven minutes that you would never forget. 

Ever since then, Kazunari’s kindness has always been apparent, and after exchanging numbers after the party, you found yourselves always in each other’s company. Day after day he would stop by your dorm or call you when he was at a party, asking if you wanted to come with. Other times he would ask for homework help, even when you were equally as lost on the assignment, he found every excuse to hang out when you were available. 

“Hey, Y/n! There’s a party downtown, did you wanna come with?” he asked over the phone while you were doing your assignments. 

Overflowing with stress, you were quick to decline. “I’d love to, but I have a lot of assignments due tonight, I don’t think I can-”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on. You said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, you sure you aren’t just ignoring me?” he asked teasingly. 

You let out a sigh and laughed at the joke. “No, my professors just like to give a bunch of homework and I don’t think a party can help my procrastination,” you looked at the clock and watched the time tick till your assignment was due. 

Kazunari laughed through the phone. “Ohhh, thanks for reminding me! I gotta get some of my stuff done, too. Can I stop by your place to get it done?” he asked enthusiastically. 

You froze, watching your shocked expression against the reflection of your clock. “...Kazunari? Skipping a party for some assignments?” you choked out. 

“And you too, Y/n! I love hanging out with you!”

It surprised you to the core, and it made your body freeze and thoughts filling your head. You fell in love for your close friend, and it wasn’t too hard to see why. He loved parties, socializing, anything that would give him a chance to see human interaction. But when you were stuck with homework and assignments, it didn’t make sense to why he’d blow it all off for you in your head. 

Even with someone being such a social butterfly as Kazunari, he still carved time to hang out with you, a close friend that he had the same warm feeling around. 

“Hello? Y/n? Sorry, my signal’s really bad ever since Sakyo started cutting off-”

“Hi, hi yes I’m here, sorry,” you spoke and gave yourself a facepalm. 

“Haha, okay! Don’t overwork yourself before I get there! It’ll take... uhhh probably around seven minutes tops,” he laughed before hanging up. You put down your phone and thoughts overwhelmed your head while staring at a blank document on your computer screen. 

“Work now, Kazunari later,” you muttered to yourself and started typing up your next assignment due.

After only a mere seven minutes of working, you heard a knock on your door and sprung out of your seat, launching towards the doorknob and greeted Kazunari with a smile. 

“Hey, Y/n!” sunshine boy strikes again, and this time he brought a plastic bag filled with all of your favorite food and snacks and a handful of movies on the other. “I got these recommendations from my good friend, Muku. Wanna watch some with me?”

“What about your assignments? And mine?” you avoided thinking about the kind gesture, a flustered feeling spreading throughout your body, as he handed you the various items. 

“You’ve been hacking at assignments all week! Aaaaand I stopped by your favorite cafe!” Kazunari had puppy dog eyes when you opened up the food he gave you. 

Inhaling deeply at the temptation, you closed it shut. “Assignments,” you said in a strict voice. 

“But it’s a lot,” he whined and crashed onto your bed. You sighed out and put the gifts to the side, staring at the clock. 

“Well, it’s around 3 right now, and if you finish at 7, I’ll go eat food and watch movies with you,” you sat at your desk and started your homework. 

“Wait wait wait, that’s not enough,” he said, walking up behind you.

“What? That is more than enough,” you turned around, but you watched the cheeky grin appear on his mouth. 

“If you finish your assignments at 7, we both get to watch movies, eat delicious food, and on top of that, I get to kiss you!”

You nearly let out a cough at Kazunari’s suggestion, but it was not like you were gonna turn it down. He kept on smiling after you reacted so violently, but you slowly nodded your head. 

“It’s a deal,” you felt a competitive fire rush in you, and Kazunari pulled up a chair next to you and laughed.

“I’ll be working then. Y/n~” 

Hours and hours had passed, but not in complete silence. Kazunari kept talking and showing you posts and videos from Instablam, you were concerned if he was even doing his assignment at all. You mentally cursed yourself for the times you took the bait, but you were determined to get your incentive. 

However Kazunari’s presence next to you was in a way, relaxing. As you wanted to scream into your pillow he fed you some of the food and your stress melted away. When you got stuck on a problem, he searched it up for you and tried to guide you through it. And the usual, whenever you felt a rise of panic, he’d stream a little cat video for the both of you to watch.

He was the most supportive person you could have ever possibly met, but each action caused you to freeze and grow flustered, melting in his action. 

You finished at the dot, right before seven, and you looked at Kazunari with wide and tired eyes as you practically collapsed onto him.

“You did it Y/n!” he exclaimed supportively, wrapping his arms around you tight. 

“I guess I did...,” you sighed out. 

The both of you got up from your seats, his arms still snug around your waist as you comfortable buried your face in his chest. “I’m so tired...,” you whined out. 

“Oh I know,” he teased, his fingers combing through your hair comfortably. “You go and relax, I’ll start the movie,” he led you to your own bed which you immediately crashed in. 

Kazunari’s absence made you feel cold, causing you to crawl into your sheets, watching the screen turn on. Kazunari crawled into the bed with you, smiling as he laid down on his sight. 

“So~” Kazunari had his usual goofy grin. “Did you really work your butt off for the movie, or to kiss me?” he asked smoothly. 

You stared at him with your mouth open to answer, too lazy to get up in an attempt to hide your reddened face. “Well... did you come here to work on assignments or to hang out with me?”

Kazunari smiled and laid a hand on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek and letting the movie run in the background. “Well, who wouldn’t wanna hang out with such an amazing and cool person?”

You, hesitantly overlapped your hand with his on your face and returned the smile. “And who wouldn’t want to kiss such a nice, amazing guy like you?”

Kazunari laughed, a blush growing on his face. “You always know what to say, Y/n!” His face inched closer to you, and his nose gently brushed against yours. 

“And you always know how to make me feel this way, Kazu,” you managed to whisper before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly, the warm feeling inside you only grew as he kissed you for what felt like a blissful eternity.

Even when he pulled away, the gap between you both did not lessen. “Hehe, I’m so glad I flaked on the party,” he continued to joke around, and he started to kiss you even more.

He made you feel safe, even when it was just the two of you, he was always there. It was all thanks to a cursed game, with a cursed number, but you managed to make a lifetime of heaven out of it. 

[jacmyheroacademia]

Hanahaki Bakugo X FemReader Part Five

Writers: Jac and Zeptikye Warnings: Mentions of blood, sickness, and medication Pairing: Bakugo X Female Character All Chapters

[Y/N] rolled over in bed at the sound of her phone buzzing, reaching for the device on her nightstand. Her throat burned and her chest ached, [Y/N] gritting her teeth in pain as she fumbled for her phone.

She yelped slightly as it nearly fell, barely catching it and turning the screen towards her. Her heart nearly stopped at the contact- and her flowers flared as she realized when she picked the phone up, she'd accidentally accepted the call.

“Hey-” Katsukis gruff voice came from the other line, [Y/N] panicking as she quickly sat up, “h-hey-!” She squeaked in surprise. 

She rubbed her eyes, holding the phone away from her a moment as she cleared her throat. “Wh-what’s uh.. up?” She mumbled sleepily. Katsuki grunted, “I didn't mean to wake you up… Sorry” he grumbled apologetically. 

[Y/N] stifled a yawn, taking a shuddered breath as she reset- her lungs struggling silently. “That's ok.. you alright?”

Katsuki was silent for a bit at that question before speaking quickly. “Would it be alright if I came over?” he questioned, even if it sounded a bit more like a demand, “I feel like we should talk.” he managed quickly.

[Y/N] blinked quickly, trying to quell her panic. “U-uhm- what about?” She stumbled, trying to shake the remnants of sleep. Katsuki cleared his throat slightly before speaking, “Just uhm … I’ve been- thinking about some stuff.” he said pensively “And I’d like your opinion or whatever.

She paused for a moment in confused thought. “O-okay, um- me too actually.” She murmured quietly. Katsuki paused for a second. “Good. Cuz I'm outside.” [Y/N] made a startled yelp before answering quickly, “Oh! O-Okay- give me just a second!” she exclaimed, leaping out of bed and throwing on a shirt over her tank top, trying not to cough loudly enough for him to hear.

[Y/N] gripped her chest as she stood, the room spinning at her lack of air combined with the sudden movement. She coughed violently, reaching out for anything to grab so she wouldn't fall.

Her knees buckled from under her, [Y/N] not sure what she grabbed but knowing whatever it was, she took down with her in a crash- but coughing too hard to care.

“Shoot! [Y/N]?” She heard Katsuki swear from outside the hall, “I’m coming in, okay?” he grunted, opening the door as [Y/N] curled her knees to her chest in embarrassment.

Her eyes watered as she panted, grasping her throat as it felt like the thorns stuck in it were trying to push their way through her skin from the inside. She felt her quirk materialize out of instinct, flailing miserably and crashing into more miscellaneous items.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” Katsuki spoke to get her attention, quickly kneeling in front of her, “Hey- look at me, calm down.” he said, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching for the water bottle she had knocked over. “Deep breaths through your nose.” he demanded, forcing her attention onto his crimson red eyes.

The flowers erupted under his stare, [Y/N] curling inward with a soft squeak of agony, scrabbling at her neck. Katsuki quickly backed off, looking at her in alarm. “[Y/N] what’s going on?” he questioned, his eyes searching her in confusion before his vision snagged on something. Tears streamed down her face, [Y/N] coughing violently to try and get the flowers out of her throat so she could breathe again- Katsuki losing her attention as she tried and failed to pull herself up.

“[Y/N] …” Katsuki said quietly, holding something in his hands that she couldn’t see. [Y/N] only shook her head, trying to pull herself up to sit properly as her lungs tried to hack up another flower, [Y/N] mortified that it was happening while Katsuki was literally right there.

She silently cried harder, her arms arching to shield her as petals and full fledged flower heads finally cascaded from her lips- the betraying, cheerful, peachy petals spattered red.

The explosive blonde fell silent, still kneeling on the floor as rose petals fell to the ground at [Y/N]’s feet- a strangled sob making it’s way to her throat before suddenly Katsuki was moving quickly in the corner of her blurry vision. “[Y/N]-” he said again, [Y/N] recognizing the sound of a bottle of pills hitting the ground as Katsuki dropped it to kneel in front of her, lifting a hand up to her face to cup one of her cheeks and tilting her head up the few inches to meet his eyes. 

“Are you in love with me?”

She shook violently, tears still streaming down her face as she tried to make herself as small as possible. “I- I'm so sorry- b-but… Yes..” she hiccuped.

Katsuki shook his head as a shuddered gasp left his lips, heaving a deep breath as the hand holding her face warmed. “D-don’t apologize.” he muttered quickly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I love you too…. Gosh [Y/N] I love you so much …” he whispered passionately.

She drew back as her mind reeled, that not being the reaction she expected at all. “Wh-what..?” She whispered tearfully in shock. Katsuki’s crimson eyes met hers, his face still it’s usual glare- but it wasn’t angry, it was determined and passionate and genuine. “I love you.” he repeated again, “I love you and good gosh I don’t want to see you hurting.” he cursed in a whisper.

[Y/N] blinked her wide eyes back up at him in silence, biting her lip so it wouldn't tremble. Her eyes screwed shut and she slowly ducked her head, silently setting her forehead against his chest as she hugged herself.

Katsuki wrapped both of his arms around her protectively, tucking her tight to her chest as [Y/N] let her brain comprehend the last chaotic three minutes of her life … Katsuki loved her?

The pain that had resided in her throat for so long and caused her so much pain was gone immediately, as if it had never been there as [Y/N] felt her lungs be released from the crushing grip of the roses vines- the sickening scent of flowers leaving her airways as she took in a shuddering gasp as the sudden sensation.

She panted quickly, her eyes shut tight and her brows furrowed as she hugged her arms to her chest, holding her neck. “I'm sorry..” she whispered- the cuts left in her throat still making it raw. Katsuki shook his head, “I’m sorry.” he said in retaliation. “If I would’ve known you were going through this s*** too, I would’ve told you the second I found out.” he swore, tucking her close as if doing so would help relieve the pain.

[Y/N] tucked her legs next to her, allowing herself to be immersed in his safe grasp as she tried to grasp his last sentence. She turned her head so her cheek was against his chest instead, still shivering. “I'm just.. I'm sure this isn't… The way you wanted to hear it. I don't want to.. to make you feel obligated…” She mumbled.

Katsuki scoffed, shaking his head, “[Y/N]- after puking up flowers for the past 48 hours I couldn’t care less how it happened … I’m just relieved to be able to breathe again …” he said softly, [Y/N]’s eyes widened in realization as she hadn’t even considered until this moment that he could’ve been going through the same thing.

She pulled her head back to examine him, her exhausted mind still trying it's best to function as quickly as her adrenaline wanted. “Y-you..?”

Katsuki scoffed, nodding quietly before pressing his forehead to the top of her head. “Just breathe for a bit- we can talk about it in the morning …” he said quietly, taking a deep breath himself.

[Y/N]  paused, her mind screeching at her to keep talking, but her tired, aching body got the best of her, nodding and slumping against him. Katsuki nodded quietly, squeezing her close for a minute before speaking. “Is uhm … is it okay if I just … hold you for a bit?” he grunted embarrassedly.

[Y/N] smiled at the sentence, her face warming comfortably and for some reason the question making her rather happy. She nodded, closing her eyes and settling against him. Katsuki squeezed her close, tucking his head on top of hers and [Y/N] feeling content to realize that they just kind of fit well together.

She nestled into him, finding how naturally warm he was comforting- as her arms tentatively looped themselves around his waist in return. Katsuki tensed slightly, but only for a minute before he tucked himself closer with a small huff, [Y/N] taking a deep breath and relishing in not feeling dizzy for a moment.

A deep inhale slid down her throat and into her lungs- [Y/N] not knowing if she would ever be able to relish the feeling of air actually moving freely down her airways as much as in this moment. And finally, after a torturing few days, her body began to relax.

…

Katsuki’s eyes fluttered open as he registered a crick in his neck- and also the fact that he was apparently sitting on the floor rather than sleeping in his bed? 

He grunted in displeasure, lifting his head against what it was leaning on and his sleep-fogged mind extremely confused. Katsuki turned his attention down, brows arching as he found [Y/N]- the two having fallen asleep leaning against each other and the wall.

His eyes widened as he remembered the phiasco that had been both of their attempted and mildly forced confessions- Katsuki taking a deep, flower free breath as his mind woke up.

He rolled his neck to stretch, smiling subtly. He turned his eyes back down to her after a moment, his hand absently playing with her hair while his mind ran. He had expected his thoughts to be anxiety ridden, and maybe they would be once he was fully awake, but right now he was  more than content to just hold her close.

Katsuki shifted to lean more comfortably against the wall, pulling [Y/N] with him and tucking her back close. [Y/N] shifted in his arms, offering a small yawn and tucking herself close.

Katsuki blinked quickly in silent startlement, flushing quietly but squeezing her as close as she could possibly be. [Y/N] hummed contentedly, Katsuki reaching a hand up to pet through her hair and closing his eyes again. A quiet sound reached his ear, what was close to a cat purring- almost silently, and slightly raspy as though it hurt a little bit… [Y/N] nestling closer.

His eyes fluttered open in surprise as he realized the contented sound was coming from [Y/N]- the thoughts making his cheeks redden. Katsuki looked her up and down for a moment, a tiny smile crossing his lips while he set his head atop hers.

[Y/N] continued to purr softly as she slept, Katsuki wondering if he should move her to her bed but also really not wanting to stop holding her. 

He settled with staying where he was, hugging her tight and petting her hair while he rubbed her arm.

The sun would be coming up soon anyway and they would have to go to class, no sense in waking her up now. He sighed softly, leaning back against the wall and exhaling a deep, contented breath. Of everything, this was not the outcome he predicted.. but knowing he was beyond grateful.

…

[Y/N] rubbed her eyes blurrily with a quiet yawn as she stretched, her head nestling against … Something? Her brows furrowed as she realized she was sitting up, leaning against something rather than actually in bed.

She blinked open an eye, brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out where she was.

The sight of strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist brought her back to her surroundings with a jolt as she remembered the events of last night. 

[Y/N] blinked quickly in surprise, sitting straighter and jumping as she looked up to her eyes meeting crimson red.

“Finally woke up.” Bakugo grunted with a small smirk, [Y/N] blushing. She quickly turned her gaze back down, flushing as she rubbed an eye. “S-sorry..” Katsuki grunted again, “don't worry about it.” He muttered, setting his head back on top of hers. 

She made a soft sound of surprise, a quiet, contented smile drawing over her lips as she settled back against him, nodding.

The two sat in silence for a bit. She exhaled a shuddered breath, nuzzling closer to him with a flushed face and a happy smile.

Katsuki grunted, ducking his head- “... Were you puking up roses?” He asked quietly. [Y/N] bit the corner of her lip, but nodded, the sentence bringing her to realize her throat still ached.

Katsuki nodded, tapping his forehead to the top of her head. “Do you … I mean should we talk about it or- … Whatever?” He grunted embarrassedly. [Y/N] bit her cheek, shifting softly. “Do you… Want to?”

Katsuki was silent for a bit before answering, “not really … But we probably should.” He said briefly, turning away with a blush. [Y/N] nodded, hugging him gently.

“K… What.. what should we talk about then?”

Katsuki shook his head, “heck if I know … I just … Are we- are we dating now, do you want to? How long has this ish been going on? What were you thinking falling in love with me?” 

[Y/N] sat back, thinning her lips. “Because you're a good person.  Because you genuinely try, at everything, and you genuinely care. You've made me a better person in just a year than I ever thought I could have been- and you're determined to keep going even when everything's against it.”

Katsukis crimson eyes stared at her in surprise, his cheeks darkening. She paused as she realized what she said, flushing as she looked away. “A-among.. other things… That's.. what I was thinking..”

Katsuki blinked a few times before clearing his throat quietly, looking to the ground. “H-how long have … Uhm- …” He spoke gruffly through his admittedly kind of cute blush. [Y/N] smiled quietly, aware of how hot her cheeks were herself as she wrung her hands together. “U-uhm- I don't really.. know?”

Katsuki grunted in agreement, his grip around her tightening slightly before he spoke… “I think I've liked you for a while.” He admitted. [Y/N] felt her face continue to warm, a smile yanking its way into her face against her will. “I… Think, me too..”

Katsuki nodded, “are we … Do you-?” He tried before growling and dropping his head, his eyes in a glare as he undoubtedly tried to process his emotions. [Y/N] paused, encouragingly waiting for him to continue.

“Are we like … A couple now?” He growled the tips of his ears turning red. [Y/N]’s face followed the same manner, ducking her head. “Um.. do you… want to be?”

Katsuki cursed quietly, “How should I know- I don't know how to do any of this crap I just want … I just want to …” his voice faded as he squeezed her, tucking her close. [Y/N] looked up at him in timid curiosity, waiting for the end of the sentence as she bit her lip.

“Whatever…” He finally muttered, “I don't know- shoot-” he swore. [Y/N] squeezed him gently, tucking herself close. “It’s ok to want something, even if it’s different from mine.. And I don’t even know what I want.” she murmured in faint amusement.

Katsuki growled, “whatever.” He muttered “I just … I don't really care about all that crappy romance and dating and stupid stuff like that. I just wanna …” He faded off before growling, “I just wanna be your freaking boyfriend or whatever! Take care of you and love you and s***! Whatever that means for … This.” He said, gesturing between them.

[Y/N] paused for a second in surprise, her eyes wide while she went silent. It took a second, but she felt her face shift to a wide smile, giggling softly as she blushed with a quiet nod.

Katsuki cursed, looking down at the ground again with a raging blush. “Don't laugh! I'm bad at this!” He shouted, only making [Y/N] smile wider.

She cupped his cheeks tenderly, shaking her head with a giggle. “No, no, I don't think it possible for you to be bad at anything honestly… But I uh.. I think that's a good.. idea.” Katsuki looked up to her with a softened glare. 

“So do you wanna be my girlfriend or not?” He growled, [Y/N] laughing softly. She smiled as she tilted her head, her face softening. “I-if… that’s what you want.. I’d love to.”

Katsukis crimson eyes widened as of even after all that he still hasn't been expecting that answer, “I'm gonna be a crappy boyfriend.” He warned, “but I can learn to be the best dang boyfriend in the entire world.” He said confidently. 

[Y/N] giggled, gently tapping their foreheads together. “And that’s how I know you already are. Or at least to me.”

Katsuki gave a firm nod, squeezing her into a hug. [Y/N] giggled happily, hugging him in return, tucking herself closer. Katsuki rubbed his hands over her back for a moment before speaking again. “We should go to recovery girl. Just to make sure the flowers are all cleared up.”

[Y/N] chewed her bottom lip with a sigh, nodding quietly as she sat back. Katsuki nodded as well, glancing to her for a moment before blushing and looking away, shifting to pull himself to his feet and cracking his back. 

She folded her legs beside her, reaching her arms up to stretch with a yawn. Katsuki glanced around her room, “ you're gonna need a new bed table.” He said, [Y/N] noting she had broken the shelf in her fall. She face palmed with a sigh, laughing ruefully.

Katsuki smirked, shaking his head. “We’ll worry about it later” he grunted. She nodded softly, holding one of her arms with the opposite hand and smiling sheepishly. 

Katsuki glanced toward her like he wanted to say something but ultimately decided against it, walking towards the door and holding it for her. “C'mon.” She paused curiously, studying him for a moment or two longer before she nodded.

[sourbat]

“You’re not broken” from your choice to Pickles? :)

It’s late in the evening, and though there’s hardly a cloud in the sky, Mordhaus’ massive frame casts an imposing shadow that stretches across the empty fields. Winds blow the bitter, earthy aftertaste of strong weed. Nathan, resting on his balcony, catches a whiff and is soon drawn to the stream, a brook less than half a mile’s walk from the castle. He leaves the fortress as the sun continues to ease into the silent woods, turning the hazy orange sky into a dark, muddled purple.

The temperature drops quickly, though Nathan remains unaffected until he hears water wafting, and tastes the fresh crisp air mixing with the deepening stench of cannabis. When he catches wind of a certain voice, a smile emerges. He picks up pace, only coming to a slow once he notices the anxiety ridden in the voice, and halts when he spots Pickles on his phone, pacing from rock to the next.

“Well, yeah. Ya’ got a point, but–”

Nathan gets a glimpse of Pickles’ complexion. There’s a noticeable lack of color in his face, and despite the cold, the man looks like he’s been running laps. Nathan hurriedly counts the lines across Pickles’ brow, the speed and uneven step in his already quickened gait, and assumes it’s family. Weed gives Pickles the slight jitters, but the dark circles under the eyes can only be a product of a crazed narcissist looking to gain something from him.

Right then, Pickles’ stops. Whoever he’s talking to is unloading some serious guilt onto him. There’s a pile of stones being thrown on him, weighing Pickles down and forcing him to sink further into the earth, back bending and shoulder sinking as Pickles takes it all without saying a damn word.  The man’s receiving an invisible pummel, a repeated kick to the gut. Nathan sees the defeated expression and knows it’s Seth on the line.

Pickles sighs into the phone. “Right. Alright, then. Ok. I’ll do it.”

Pickles drops the call and shoves the dethphone as deep as he can into his pants without the sharp ends tearing into the fabric. He brings his hands behind his head and groans aloud, covering the gentle rolls of water. A few swears lets Nathan know it’s money related, as usual. Pickles going silent and reaching for the pipe he placed on a nearby stone warns Nathan that Pickles is definitely going to pay out and give Seth what he wants. Pickles shaking, blinking wide-eyed as he tries working his lighter tears Nathan from the shadows, and into the small clearing.

Nathan appears under the rising moon, right as Pickles takes a huff. “Hey, Pickles.”

A cough. Pickles pats his chest and brings his pipe down. “Shit, Nathan. Ya’ nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry.”

Pickles shakes his head, raises his pipe to Nathan as he wipes a few tears from the corner of his eye. “Wanna have a go?”

Spurts of smoke spread over Nathan. The harsh taste of the air lets him know it’s some good stuff.  He glances around him, at the stream, the stars slowly coming into view, and the occasional glow of unknown wildlife hidden in the woods. It’s honestly not a bad place to get high, but after a shit call, Nathan isn’t sure it’s the right setting to do alone.

He takes the pipe, earning a nod from Pickles, who coughs and hacks up something wet. Nathan glances at the pointed ends of the phone sticking out from Pickles’ pocket. “You were on the phone with your brother?”

Pickles immediately frowns. “Ya’ heard that?”

“Yeah.”

Pickles carefully settles on a large rock near the water. His elbows fall on top of his legs. “What did ya’ hear?”

Nathan lights himself a smoke and inhales. “’Nuff to know you’re going to give him money,” he mutters into the darkening sky.

Pickles watches a jet of smoke spew and vanish into the night. His eyes twitch a nervous gleam, and he extends his arm outwards, ready to take the pipe. Nathan takes a step and hands it to Pickles, saying nothing as he searches around the damp soil for solid bearing, or a dry enough seat. The closest is a collection of rocks set a few feet away, but it makes sharing the pipe a bitch. Nathan decides to stand by, figuring he can handle whatever percentage of THC Pickles is dishing his way.

“Jus’ so ya’ know,” Pickles says after blowing a ringlet of smoke, “I ain’t gonna give him shit.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan mutters as he watches the stars begin to glisten with various shades of intense white.

“He thinks he can jus’ call me and hit me up fer cash.”

Pickles takes another hit, breathing deep and not turning off the flame until there’s smoke filling the scene. Nathan’s standing, but tastes it. Bitterness wafts in the air, consuming his senses. The serene lap of water drowns in a nasty heat that Pickles spits out in another cough. Nathan feels his spine begin to tingle as Pickles starts to shake.

He rolls fingers through his thick dreads. “Thinks he can pull some ol’ cards on me. Family. Whatever, dood.” Pickles slumps forward, arm raised up to Nathan and offering him the still burning bowl. “He’s got nothin’ on me. Don’t give a crap ‘bout whatever debts he owes. People he pissed off.”

Nathan takes the pipe. His eyes shift between Pickles’ sinking form, and the developing blur that surrounds him, making him appear more a pale specter than man.  Nathan brings the pipe to his lips. “Surprised he had your number.”

Pickles shifts in his seat. Nathan hopes it’s the cold, or the poor substitute of a seat Pickles decided to rest upon. But there’s that deepening shadow around the eyes that irks Nathan, and from within Pickles’ shaky irises, Nathan’s positive he can detect that subtle hint of self-loathing and disgust.

“You ask him how he got it, right?” Nathan says midway through his hit. It’s a loaded question, and Nathan knows it. The damn remark implies Seth was smart enough to work the system and get his grubby hands on it, which, if past interactions with the jackass proved anything, wasn’t the case. Nathan flares his nostrils, letting the remainder of the smoke spill out.

“Well...”

“Yeah?”

Pickles tilt’s his head away from Nathan, right as he offers the pipe back to him.

“Nah.” Pickles slumps further. His lips push out into a defeated pout. “I, uhhh, ended up givin’ it to him durin’ the trip to Australia.”

Unmoving, Nathan asks, “Why?”

Pickles rests his arms on top of one another. He shrugs into the cold, and it goes silent for a while. For a few seconds, Nathan gets lost in the darkening scenery, the purple skies and whimper of frightened animals. Nathan sways silent, surrendering to the occasional frosty, breeze with a mild shudder.

Then, he hears Pickles sniff. “Well, you know…” he says, and although Nathan continues to stare upwards, can see Pickles wrapping himself up in a faux smile and using it as a blanket to convince himself it’s as good an excuse as any. “In case…”

“In case he needed money,” Nathan finishes for Pickles.

The silence returns, and again, there’s the gentle flow of water. The winds tear through the thick forests, sending out a low wail that, once it hits, causes both men the shiver in the dark. Nathan exhales the last bitter taste from his lips, then bends and drops the cold pipe besides Pickles. A minute passes, and when Nathan catches an angered growl next to him, drops his eyes and sees Pickles staring at the blackening roll of the brook, at his miserable reflection. 

“Fuck,” Pickles cries, shaking his head. He hits the stone underneath him. “What is wrong with me, dood?”

Nathan raises a brow as Pickles’ palms shift into fists, and repeatedly smash against the stone. When the pain’s too much to bear, he gets up, paces around some more, then swings his fists outwards with another sharp cry.

“They treat me like I’m dirt, but I keep handin’ them my number, answerin’ their calls and offerin’ them financial support?” Pickles kicks up dirt and rocks, sending bits flying and hitting the cold water with piercing cold splashes. Nathan steps back. Pickles kicks up more wet soil and stomps a foot into the mushy hole he’s made. “After everything they did to me! I can’t believe i'm still doin’ this crap!”

The scene goes on for a minute longer, with Pickles enacting a series of random kicks and flails, destroying leeks and bulrushes, and disrupting the life around the brook with flying pebbles, clumps of grass and screams. Nathan thinks to stop Pickles, in case a wandering gear decides to call Offdensen, and he thinks about joining Pickles and handing him larger stones to throw at some unlucky freshwater eels. He plays with the lighter and waits for Pickles’ personal flame to go wild and die out on its own, and for Pickles to return to him and the icy stone seat.

The weed really starts to sink in, and whatever will there was to fight is gone, replaced with heavy tranquility that leaves Pickles silent again.

The sky turns a dark blue, almost black and matching the water below. Stars twinkle and burst like lightning, keeping Nathan occupied long enough for Pickles to drown in the high, to stop stuttering and hitting the rock underneath, and eventually stand and join Nathan in the stargazing.  

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s me, y’know?” Pickles mutters solemnly. “Maybe it’s me that’s got it wrong?” 

The words cut through the silence. Nathan feels the tip of the blade lick his chest, threatening him with a fraction of the discomfort he knows Pickles is enduring.

Pickles covers the top half of his face. His open mouth exhales a cloud of hot air. “Times like these, I wonder. Like, maybe they’re all the normal ones, and I’m the one that’s fucked up. I’m the broken one.”

The words make Nathan visibly cringe. He shakes his head, offended. “Pickles,” he says, turning slightly and covering the man’s lanky shoulder with his hand. “You’re not broken.”

Pickles eyes glisten as he glances upward, offering Nathan only a slight nod.

In any other situation, Nathan would have figured that now is the time to be honest and remind Pickles of his views regarding the family. Pickles aside, everyone hosting that cursed surname was a grade-A narcissist. Everyone knows it, and yet it proves a sore subject to broach with Pickles.

The thought arises. It’s there and Nathan can feel the satisfying insults lining his lungs, ready to be expelled. He thinks to say it, but sees Pickles’ bared teeth, his exasperated frown, and he hears those words cut into him.

Broken.

An old, familiar sting returns, clearing through the drug’s influence, and settles on Nathan. He sees Pickles standing there, uncomfortable, hating himself, and the weed carries old sounds of laughter, fingers pointing and whispers aimed at Nathan.

“Pickles, you’re not broken,” he repeats, softer and forlorn.

Pickles glanced up at him again. This time, the stare lingers, catching traces of a different, though not completely dissimilar ache.

Nathan brings his arms up. “It’s easy to feel broken…” he pauses, eyes shutting as old memories arise. Ancient dreams that fill with the smoky haze of his high, but the pain is still there. The judgemental stares from adults that weren’t his parents. The classmates that refused to accept his silence. The doctors that snubbed any small improvement with his speech development, and instead focused on his shortcomings. “It’s… so easy to feel broken when everyone around you just… focuses on your faults. When they-” 

Nathan halts, watching the words slip from his grasp, float into the sky and be replaced with overwhelming anger and frustration. Something clogs his throat. Heat and pressure build as Nathan continues to stare up at the fading words, at those who demanded him to speak up, to say something, and then drops his stare to Pickles patiently nodding his head at him, getting it without ever finishing the sentence.

A lanky hand smacks the back of his shoulder. When Nathan settles, and can bring his arms down, Pickles is there, smiling crookedly through a half-chewed lip.

“Ya’ mind lettin’ me know my fault?” Pickles asks once Nathan finds himself back under the soothing flow of running water and crickets chirping. The weed recollects as he listens in on Pickles joking with him, telling him it must be his good looks or svelte figure. Nathan realizes things have shifted, and now it's Pickles trying to calm him down. Pickles putting his needs aside and trying to figure out what blew up in his mind, what sent his mind reeling.

“Your fault if you're good,” Nathan says quickly, and booms it over Pickles’ japes and snickers. “You’re too damn good for your family. You’re…the only good thing about your family, and they know it. S’not really a fault, but it makes you different. Makes you a–”

Pickles pulls Nathan close into a shaky, nervous half-hug. The gesture stops Nathan from finishing, and halts the blade from cutting any deeper.

He parts, eyes dropping for a moment, but rising once the cool air settles between them. “Thanks,” Pickles says, voice shaken, but appreciative.

Nathan gives a short nod. “I mean it.” 

“I know,” Pickles says, swaying under the guidance of a frosty breeze. He waits while Nathan looks up one final time, absorbing the abundant array of the night sky, and using the thousands of stars to smother the faint memories filled with excuses and fragmentation.

It goes silent again, and this time Nathan shuts his eyes. He listens to the sounds of wildlife and Pickles picking up his pipe to take a more controlled hit.

The two get lost and float in the gentility of nature and darkness. 

“Nathan?” Pickles asks after a while. 

“Yeah?”

Warmth returns. A hand rubs his lower back. “You okay, dood?”

“Just thinking… ‘bout stuff.” Nathan opens his eyes and faces Pickles, expression hardly indicating beyond the usual gruffness, though Nathan is sure Pickles is squinting because, like him, he can see the distant glimmer of a knife being pulled into the darkness, in the shadows of his irises. Nathan wrinkles his nose. “Y’know?”

Pickles grins, satisfied with what he sees “Yeah.”  

They stare a bit longer at the rolling water, and Nathan makes a few comments about some strange insect life Toki snuck into Mordhaus a few days prior. Pickles mentions seeing a weird beetle in the kitchen.

His dethphone rings.

“Ah, shit.”

Nathan waits until Pickles has it out before offering his hand to Pickles. “Lemme see that,” he half-demands. Curious, Pickles tilts the phone in his direction. Nathan snatches it and, without warning, positions himself and tosses the cellphone outwards, straight into the water.

The phone hits the surface with a loud plop, then sinks.

Pickles’ jaw sinks. He grabs at his dreads. “Dood!”

Nathan calms him down with a stare. It takes a second for Pickles to settle, but he does, and waits for Nathan to explain himself.

“Let’s agree to trash our phones every few months,” he states aloud, over Pickles’ hitched breathing and panicked expression. “For safety purposes.”

No talks about why in particular, or the fact that Seth is the living embodiment of everything wrong with society, but like the message before, it hits and translates perfectly with Pickles. He stares out to the water, at the rippling rings spreading and vanishing into the gentle current. His frown disappears, sinking to a silent, but approving daze.

“Sure thing, dood,” Pickles says, heading lowering as he stifles a chuckle, but even while under the influence, Nathan can see, read the red filling Pickles’ eyes as something more than just the effect of a good high.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Eyes of Ash

Sozin has only ten years left until his Comet arrives, and he still knows next to nothing about his enemy or the places that would be their battlefields. Scrolls were few and without any maps. No one knew much about the Air Nomads, just like no one knew where their Temples were. Supposedly, they could only be accessed with a skybison.

...But Sozin had his dragon and a reason for them to let him stay. 

Roku trained at the Southern Temple….Perhaps Sozin could start there.

The sea of eyes that greet him are grey like storm clouds gathering. They’re all the same—a homogenous people.

...The eyes of ash were the only exception, and Sozin couldn’t look away.

**************************************

A/N: “But you were right. And if the Fire Nation found this Temple, that means they found the other ones, too.” Sozin definitely got busy in the 12 years before the Comet. An ambush has to be planned and calculated, and that means he had to gather intel on the airbenders.

This uses my “whistle-speak” hc that airbenders airbended whistles in a secret language (explored originally in this fic)

Rating: T

Words: 2,917

ArchiveOfOurOwn

**************************************

...Ten years.

Befriending the airbenders was a pain that pooled bile in Sozin’s mouth, but feigning confidence with them was easier than dancing politics with any statesman. 

It was easy.

Almost too easy. 

The thought ran away from him before Sozin could ponder it more. The suspicion was silly. Easy trust from easy people should be expected. The Air Nomads were too simple and peaceful to be anything more than welcoming. They were born without the ability to tip their hearts’ scales into black or white. Their neutrality was as grey as their eyes. 

But as Sozin, stiff and wrinkled like a walking scar, stepped from his dragon and bowed to one of the more decorated old men, he couldn’t help but wonder. It truly was a miracle that the Air Nomads survived so long. Life was cruel. History was even crueler. Trust freely given was a noose around any man’s neck.

All it took was a sob story about his old age and grief for them to welcome him. Sozin was aching from his years, even moreso from the loss of his best friend. His tears were his testament, and the break in his voice shattered the daydream air filling the temple like a gas. He could find solace nowhere else; he pleaded for a chance to find inner peace where his brother once was and where he would take on new life.

They were reluctant at first, but only because of Talon. Sozin’s teal dragon was as massive as he was deadly, and he was tame as a loaded crossbow. Talon licked their fear from their air and purred a growl that trembled a warning like a mountain’s last groan before collapsing. 

The old men were as wary of his dragon as they were of him. It almost made Sozin smile. They could sense a dragon in skybison’s clothing easily enough. Maybe healthy suspicion was how they survived for so long?

Sozin was certain he was going to be asked to leave, but a stranger with eyes and lips wrinkled into a permanent smile vouched for him. The stranger’s smile slipped into his voice, slow and smooth, like a cat curling to sleep on a sun-baked stone. 

Sozin had to force his jaw to relax. He never liked listening to the airbenders speak. The air that left them was alien like their voices were crawling into his ears instead of traveling through space like normal. 

He gave the newcomer a once-over like any good soldier might. His weaknesses, strengths, and chances of becoming a meaningful threat were tucked into a new file and bookmarked in Sozin’s mind. 

But his reconnaissance was cut short by the toddler waddling at the stranger’s heels. The boy barely older than a babe grabbed hold of the old man’s—his father’s? guardian’s?—robe and latched on, teething, on a fold of orange fabric.

Then he looked at Sozin with eyes a shade of grey different from all the others’. The airbenders had eyes like stormclouds gathering. The boy had eyes like ash.

Sozin turned away and coughed.

The boy chewed some more on his favored piece of orange robe. The elder didn’t pay any mind. 

(But Sozin caught the way he leaned closer to the boy like a sabretooth moose-lion before its cub.)

Ten years...Ten years and twenty-two days.

Roku had spoken fondly and often of Sozin to the monk named Gyatso. Gyatso smiled wide and warm like the sun cresting the horizon, and he welcomed the Firelord as a fellow brother mourning Roku’s passing. 

After a few more pleasantries, he invited Sozin to the prayer room where Roku meditated when something heavy weighed on his mind.

Sozin nodded and followed. His attention, however, didn’t want to leave Gyatso’s young charge.

The boy—Aang was his name?—patted his fist on the now wet section of orange robe like he was knocking on a door. Gyatso offered him his hand, and Aang nearly jumped to greet it in his impatience to hold it. He leaned on his mentor and trotted with his weight resting against his not-father’s leg. It was like the boy was a cart missing a wheel but still rolling forward and scraping against a tunnel’s wall for support. 

And then Aang closed his eyes and smiled like accidents could never happen.

And the sight almost made Sozin reconsider.

Almost.

The prayer room was empty when Gyatso finally opened the doors. It took a few minutes since he coddled his charge with gentle words and instructions to wield his airbending to open the lock. 

A puff of dust greeted them with an annoying sting to their eyes. Gyatso apologized and cleaned the room with a wave of his hand, tossing the dust out the window. 

Sozin inhaled a breath of the stuff, but he cleared his throat to suppress the urge to cough. 

But then the boy sneezed, and Sozin looked down at him. 

The pain from the error was swift and brutal. Something hit Sozin’s back like water from a broken dam carrying momentum faster than lightning. On impact, it sprayed him into a bloody mist like pieces of porcelain after meeting asphalt. 

The hacking fit was a compulsion Sozin couldn’t fight, and it would have put him on his knees if he hadn't stopped it at a kneel. 

The eyes of ash misted with tears and were pleading and concerned. The boy patted Sozin’s shoulder with a hand yet able to perform the action without looking like he was trying to beat him instead of comfort him.

The feeling was nostalgic. It almost made Sozin reconsider.

Almost.

...Five years.

Sozin had done worse for longer. It wasn’t like it would break him. What was left of himself had been torn apart and fed to the volcano back on that day. All that mattered was his nation.

His nation.

The Fire Nation. 

For his country to be reborn, there had to be ashes.

Five years...Five years and sixteen days.

For his nation, Sozin could do it. He could endure every Pai Sho game and forced bout of laughter. He could endure the nuns and the reckless younglings who wouldn’t leave him the hell alone whenever he visited the Temples. 

He brought them gifts every time. Operational conditioning. Same as with a dragon. To tame a beast—to make it complacent—create positive associations. 

They were far too trusting. The skybison were ‘companions’. The Air Nomads knew nothing of training. 

...Three years.

Sozin wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

They were watching him. All of them were.

Their strange secret language—that damn whistle-speak—tricked his mind into thinking it was music so it could hide its secrets from him. It was like listening to singing behind a wall. He could hear the suspicion. He could hear the murmuring. He heard everything they didn’t want him to in passing, and their sung secrets were heavy and thick with a contempt he couldn’t yet decipher.

They were toying with him.

That wasn’t how this was supposed to be. 

Sozin wouldn’t let himself be controlled. The Nomads were fools if they thought they could muzzle a Dragon.

He was the one in control here.

Sozin knew how to control people through fear. These damn people did something far worse. They controlled through trust. It was cruel—it was wrong.

The boy—Aang was his name—wove a pillow-soft tune out of braided winds. He made sure he had the other youngling’s attention before darting up the tree, scaring the lemurs from their perches. 

Sozin cringed. Even the children were speaking of him—hiding from him. 

Eyes of ash peeked at him through the leaves and curved upwards as if smiling.

Sozin turned his cough into an old man’s laugh and dug his nails into his knees.

Three years...Three years and two days.

Gyatso poured their tea and whistle-spoke something to the spies in the trees.

Sozin’s nails nearly drew blood. It was true. It was all of them: the elders, the masters, the skybison, the lemurs—hell, even the children—

He knew it. 

The airbenders were a menace. 

They controlled others with invisible chains and lured people into a sense of peace like it was a defense mechanism. Their kindness, like their whistle-speak, was nothing more than a siren’s song. 

Sozin needed to watch his step. The airbenders had a sophisticated network of communication. They were like one giant organism—a hive incubating enough workers to take over the world. 

Nomads. He wanted to spit on the very thought. 

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner.

They had been collecting information on the nations just as he had been collecting information on them. Their war tactics were so subtle it was nearly frightening. 

They knew he was onto them.

They knew what he was doing. 

They kept him in their sights and watched him even when he was in the Fire Nation. Their grey gazes stuck to him like poison powder from a deadly mushroom. He jumped into the ocean before he stepped back on his homeland for fear of spreading their virus. 

The wind petted the grass in a lick of something warm and calm. Sozin cringed. Their spoken wind was words without words, and they curled around him like they carried their own life.

Even the damn wind was watching him.

Every time he visited the damn Temples he was surrounded by the spies and their attention. He would have barely landed his dragon before a sea of grey eyes consumed his vision like they were storm clouds gathering.

He hated it. 

But he needn't wait too much longer. 

...One year.

The Gyatso fellow was as nice as a spy could be. It was almost regretful that he had to die.

Sozin thought to himself as he moved a Pai Sho tile with a ‘clap’ of lacquer and wood. Almost was too strong a word. Inconvenient? That sounded about right. No one had bested Sozin in Pai Sho before. Stupid White Lotus gambit got him every time. It would be annoying to find something new to waste his time on.

One year...One year and twelve days.

His blueprints of the temples were all but complete. One year. One year was all he needed. At this point, his visits were pleasantries, just a means to save face. 

The old men were getting nervous but about what they wouldn't say. 

Sozin made himself their refuge. He promised them aid. 

He could help them so much more if they would kindly tell him who the Avatar was. 

They refused, as always, but Sozin was as patient as he was calculating. He kept his voice soft, made the same joke, and laughed along with them even when those stupid flying creatures swatted his beard.

They stared at him, too. Everything did. 

Just one year...Just one year and twelve days.

Just a little longer, now. The wild dragons had all been collected and were finishing their training. The old men of the Southern Temple threw a festival in Sozin’s honor. They wouldn’t kill the mammoth green-scaled drakaina that had curled up in their mountains. Their bison were easy pickings to such a creature. They thanked him for giving it a proper home. 

Stupid fools. They hardly mourned the loss of their own. They would probably stand against the wall if he asked them.

There was a second festival to be held that day, almost like a shared birthday. 

The time was so close that Sozin could almost taste it—dry and dusty like ashes of victory over his tongue. In one year and twelve days, the crimson cloth being draped in the halls would be replaced by fire. 

Some would escape, but a few roaches always did when their nest was exposed to the sun. He knew enough to lay traps. They wouldn’t be the sirens anymore. 

It was easy to discern what made this home so attractive to the fliers. They needed the thin air. They were as free as the gusts of air that licked the tops of the mountains they lived in. They preferred altitudes that would leave lesser men sick and on their deathbed. (Sozin had prepared for this. Every soldier had trained on dragonback as high as the beasts would fly.)

(It was a shame that the dragons would have to be killed, too. After, that is. The Avatar born into the Water Tribes couldn’t have a source from which to learn firebending. That was unacceptable.)

Sozin winced. The hum of the prayer bell was annoying and the acrobats of air were even moreso. He sat up straight and forced his respects to the boy as he stood. Aang’s smile was brighter than cherry-red metal that had sat in a forge overnight, and it was almost just as warm.

Aang, if Sozin remembered correctly, had just had his twelfth birthday. He was young for a master. 

The boy looked at him. His eyes were grey like the rest of his people’s, and they weren’t grey like metal, either. 

Aang’s eyes were the color of ash, but they carried the life of something that had never been burned.

Sozin looked away and coughed.

The ceremony and the food were tolerable. The part that came after was almost okay. 

The prayer bell—damn that thing—rang one last time. 

Like a flame going out, so did the quiet. The younger masters all cheered like soldiers at a bar after returning from their first campaign. Aang was up from his seat in the next second and sprinting like his life depended on it.

“Get back here, Aang!”

“You know the rules! You’re one of us now!”

“It’s tradition!”

The boy laughed and shouted back at them with equal parts fun and fear. He moved more like the lemurs than even the lemurs did. It was like he was made of water, slipping out of the young masters’ hands and dodging a dozen bodies trying to dogpile him. 

The old men laughed and reminisced. Some of them pretended not to and forced themselves to chastise the young ones on principle. The lemurs chattered along with all their laughs. 

“No, no, no! Hahaha!—C-C’mon, guys! I—Haha!—Y-You know I can’t—Hahaha!”

One of them gasped dramatically. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, I did, and I simply cannot believe my ears!”

“For shame, Pupil Aang!” The young master flicked Aang’s new arrow. The ink was blue like lightning since it was new and not stretched by the skin. He didn’t wince, though. Sozin didn’t know whether to commend the boy for his tolerance of the pain or the monks for making the aftermath of the process painless (Sozin heard the previous day how much it wasn’t...His screams were muffled by a gag Sozin assumed he was given. He was only allowed by the room as it was performed).

The young men laughed with Aang some more, and they picked on their surrogate little brother for even longer. They only let him go once he was crying from laughing so hard. Two of them threw Aang onto their shoulders. Aang took the opportunity to flick their arrows in turn, and his fraternity of big brothers swooned like they were mortally wounded before they all laughed twice as hard. Aang hugged their heads and swung his legs, and he puffed with something like pride. He looked like a king on his throne, and they sang a song with something that wasn’t words. 

It was that thrice-damned whistle-speak again. Oh, how Sozin loathed their secret language. Had Roku learned this? 

Gyatso laughed long and warmly, but his age crackled in his voice. The sound was dead leaves crunching underfoot, and the way he fondly spoke of his pupil slid into Sozin’s ears as charred kindling collapsing into embers. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” 

A roar shook the canyon, and Sozin nearly leapt from his seat. One of the bison landed on the cluster of young masters, and he pawed through the lump of bodies until he found the smallest, laughing one. He picked Aang up by his scruff between his teeth and grumpily shuffled away from the young masters. Curling up, he held the boy in his front paws and looked almost like he was trying to hide his skyrider under his chin. He bared his teeth and growled at the pouting young masters climbing over him like an infestation.

It almost made Sozin think about smiling. The furry creature was more like a dragon with its horde than it was like the flying filth that were its kin.

“Thanks for the rescue, buddy!”

Sozin looked at the boy without knowing that he was. 

The boy turned. 

Eyes, grey and laughing—ash and mocking him—, caught him in their snare.

Sozin coughed, but, this time, he couldn't turn away. He lifted his sleeve to his mouth to catch the rest. His chest tightened. The air being bent around him was too thick and dusty like he was standing in a room full of mold.

It needed to be burned. The mold needed to be cleansed before it spread and poisoned anything else.

The boy looked away. His smile was infectious.

One year and twelve days. Time was a funny thing. 

Because as Sozin stood atop Talon’s back and searched the crowd of faces below him—looking for those eyes of ash—he remembered the ceremony like it was yesterday.

**************************************

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NaNoWriMo 2020 days 5 and 6 yayyyyyyy☺️

Hope ya enjoyed!:D 

[surelynotshirley]

Narancia + GiorBuccia???

Cleaning out my Notion a little and found this WIP that is titled Narancia + GiorBuccia except I have no idea where I was going with this but I wrote enough that it’s a waste to let rot in my Notion

Fugo is, unsurprisingly, the first to notice the shift in Narancia's attitude.

The group is seated at a small and unassuming ristorante away from the general hubbub of the city. Abbacchio and Bucciarati still seem on-edge, peering over their shoulders every few bites. Trish is safe inside of Mr. President but for the few seconds that Fugo saw her when he went inside to give her her meal, her face was pallid and drawn. It's hard to blame her, considering all the attempts to grab her have ended in bloodshed and death.

Narancia may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but the gravity of the situation is clear to him. He was the first person in the group to face down a member of the Hitman Team, after all, and Fugo still remembers how he felt when Narancia tottered back from his shopping trip, skin burnt and bleeding.

And yet, now, he seems completely unaware of his surroundings. His face is slack, mouth vaguely open, like how he looks every time Fugo is trying to explain to him basic math or science. Narancia looks miles away from the world, and Fugo resists the urge to stamp a foot down on Narancia's toes, just to wake him back up again.

It wouldn't do for them to cause a scene. They, unfortunately, stand out too much as it is.

"Narancia, is something the matter?" Fugo asks, watching as the tomato and mozzarella drops off of Narancia's fork and onto the plate for the nth time. "You've barely touched your lunch."

Narancia practically jumps out of his skin and he whirls onto Fugo as if he's only noticing Fugo for the first time. The overreaction makes heat rise up in Fugo's throat but he stamps it down.

"Wh-What?" Narancia yelps, his voice several octaves too high.

"Hey, shut up over there," Abbacchio says sharply, and even Bucciarati gives the two of them a disapproving look.

Fugo swallows down his immediate indignation at the unfair treatment. Narancia's the one making a fuss, not him. He may have taken on Narancia as a student, but he's not his mom or anything.

"I apologize," Fugo says at the same time Narancia mutters, "Sorry."

Mollified, Abbacchio sips from his wine and continues his conversation with Bucciarati, who merely nods every once in a while. He's clearly distracted, looking every few seconds at Giorno, and he's not the only one. Mista is also sneaking peeks at him and now that Fugo is paying attention, he can understand why.

"Oi, Giorno, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mista asks, gesturing wildly with his fork. A bit of pasta sauce sprays in the air but lands on the floor rather than the tablecloth or anyone's clothing.

Giorno looks up, blinking confusedly. He does not stop dipping his bruschetta into the minestrone.

"I'm dipping my bruschetta into the minestrone," he explains patiently, as if he's trying to teach a child to say 'please' and 'thank you.'

Mista bristles at the patronizing tone.

"Yeah, I can see that!" he snaps. "I'm not asking you what you're doing. I'm asking you what you think you're doing. How can you ruin good bruschetta like that? You're making a goddamn mess. You call yourself an Italian? You're no better than an American."

He's loud, practically spitting out his words, and Giorno shrinks back slightly. Not out of fear or apprehension, it seems, but more so that Mista's saliva doesn't get all over his food.

"It's too hard," Giorno says. He doesn't stop letting the bruschetta soak up the soup and Fugo watches in vague despair as bits of tomato floats into the liquid. He knows that Giorno is young, and that Giorno didn't exactly have the best upbringing, but his lack of basic table manners is embarrassing. "I'll break my tooth off on this bruschetta."

"That's how bruschetta is supposed to be!" Mista exclaims passionately. He picks up his own antipasti — a garlic focaccia — and shoves it into his mouth. As if he's really trying to prove a point to Giorno about Giorno's bruschetta by inhaling focaccia.

"Can't you use your Stand to make a new tooth?" Fugo asks.

"I can," Giorno says.

Fugo waits patiently for a bit more but Giorno seems to think that Fugo was satisfied by his answer and continues his horrible desecration of good Italian food.

"I can't watch this anymore," Mista says. He reaches out and snatches the bruschetta out of Giorno's hand, sighing despairingly at the wet texture of the bread. "Here, you can have my focaccia."

He shoves his half-eaten antipasti onto Giorno's plate and Giorno frowns.

"You already bit into this," he complains.

"Yeah, so? I brushed my teeth this morning."

Giorno fastidiously tears away at the parts that Mista had taken bites out of and starts to work on it. Thankfully, he doesn't dip the focaccia into the minestrone or wine or anything crazy. Mista has no qualms about sharing germs and simply stuffs the bruschetta into his mouth, chewing loudly.

Narancia gasps and when Fugo glances at him, he's covering his mouth with one hand, staring wide-eyed at the oblivious Mista. Now that he thinks about it, he was about to ask Narancia a question.

"Are you alright, Narancia?" Fugo asks, leaning forward to whisper the question into Narancia's ear. "Shh," he reminds him when Narancia jerks away. "You don't want to get yelled at again, do you?"

Narancia shakes his head. Bucciarati and Abbacchio, thankfully, didn't notice anything amiss this time. It's a little annoying that they didn't say anything to Mista and Giorno even though Mista was definitely causing a scene with his little rant, but there's something about Narancia's higher-pitched voice that carries on the wind. Fugo has confidence that he would be able to hear Narancia's yelling miles away.

"I'm fine," Narancia says. "Er...actually, yeah. I'm fine."

He absolutely does not look fine and the doubt must show on Fugo's face because Narancia scrunches up his nose in what he must think is an earnest expression.

"I see," Fugo says, feigning disinterest. He goes back to his meal and watches from the corner of his eye as Narancia breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

It's not as if Fugo plans on ever betraying Narancia but his straightforward honesty is a little worrying. Especially since Mista has a rather bad habit of spouting lies without any sense of guilt.

He observes Narancia as Narancia continues his meal. He stabs into his caprese salad but he never actually brings his fork up to his mouth. It's hanging open again, and Fugo resists the urge to slam the palm of his hand into Narancia's chin if only to make him close his mouth. Narancia's eyes are glazed over in thought — Fugo can practically hear the grinding of Narancia rubbing his two brain cells together — and he follows his gaze to see just what has Narancia's attention.

Giorno and Mista, despite Mista's earlier rebuke, are chatting contentedly over their meals. Now that Giorno is no longer massacring good bread, it seems that Mista's gotten over his bad mood, and he's laughing at his own joke while Giorno gives him a patient smile. Fugo wasn't paying attention to just what Mista said, but with the way Mista is cupping his palms in front of his chest, he doubts that it was anything worth listening to.

"Is there something wrong with Giorno and Mista?" Fugo asks, and he pre-emptively reaches out to slam his hand against Narancia's mouth as Narancia starts to inhale.

"MMGH," Narancia says, and Fugo presses the palm of his hand against Narancia's face even harder.

It unfortunately is not enough to stifle him. Abbacchio sighs, loudly and obviously, and drains the wine in his glass. Bucciarati gives Fugo a look that he saw teachers direct to some of the dumber students at university. Giorno and Mista turn as one to stare at them. Mista's mouth is still twisted in a half-smile and there's no telling just what emotion Giorno is feeling. His calm expression is the same as it always is.

"Fugo, Narancia, the two of you have been acting quite strange ever since we arrived in Venezia," Bucciarati says. He sets his fork and knife down, and steeples his fingers, settling his chin on them. It's a clear invitation. "Is there something you would like to say?"

Fugo didn't want to make Narancia say anything until he could confirm for himself that what Narnacia wants to share is worth sharing, but it's too late now. He removes his hand from Narancia's face and slaps his back in a reassuring gesture. Narancia coughs, hacking into his salad, as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Narancia here's the one who's acting strange. He hasn't eaten a single bite of his salad and he's clearly not paying any attention to his surroundings."

"Oi, Narancia, we're not done the mission yet," Abbacchio says sharply, as if he wasn't one of the people who suggested taking a quick break before finishing their escort mission and eating at a ristorante. "You can stare at clouds or whatever you want after we deliver Trish to the Boss."

"I wasn't staring at the clouds!" Narancia yells. He stabs a tomato with his fork and shoves it into his mouth, throwing them all a thumbs-up. "I was —"

He cuts himself off to grab a piece of mozzarella with his bare hands and eats it, chewing rapidly as if he thinks that the group would let him off the hook if they think he has his mouth full.

As if Mista and Abbacchio are that kind.

"Hey, hey, Narancia, were you thinking about Trish?" Mista says, hooking an arm around Narancia's shoulders.

"Gweh!" Narancia chokes and he hurriedly swallows.

Fugo leans against the table, sighing. Somehow, even though Fugo definitely spends more time with Narancia, it's always Mista who gets to pry secrets out of him. For some reason, Fugo was the last one of the group to learn about Narancia's secret crush on the local florist and he only heard about it after Narancia confessed and got turned down. Mista was the one who Narancia went to for advice, and it was Mista who insisted that Narancia even go for it in the first place.

If Fugo was the one Narancia talked to, he would never have given Narancia such awful advice. Yet another reason why Fugo really doesn't want Mista and Narancia hanging out with each other as much as they do.

[percabeth-sicfic-solangelo]

A Percy and Jason sicfic

Just to start getting some stuff out there here is a sickfic set on the Argo 2, Will is there because its convenient and Annabeth isn't there because I wanted this to be a more Jason and Percy friendship thing.

Jason swallowed back his annoyance as Percy zoned out again. The normally alert boy was staring blankly at the map in front of him, his eyes glazed over. Jason snapped his fingers under Percy's nose and the other boy jumped

"Sorry what were we talking about?" he whispered almost too quietly for Jason to hear,

"We were talking about whether we should take the path through the English channel" Jason repeated, pointing to a spot on the map. "If we crossed here we might be able to catch this half-blood" he looked up and to his annoyance saw Percy's eyes already losing focus

"What is it with you?" Jason snapped "Can't you just pay attention for one minute?" Percy winced like the sound hurt him

"I'm trying, okay?" he whispered and Jason lost it

"Trying?! You've been staring at the same place on the map for ten minutes and won't even say anything!, I'm trying" he mimicked in a whisper "If you were trying you'd show some effort, And why are you still wearing a sweatshirt, it's like 80 degrees out." Percy winced again and rubbed his temples

"Shut it" he muttered

"What?" Jason asked irritably

"I said shut it" Percy spoke louder, trying to ignore the rasp in his voice "I'm cold okay?" he turned away from Jason to hide his runny nose, not caring if it made him look like a sulking toddler

"Dude, calm down I'm sorry," Jason frowned, "I shouldn't have snapped at you." Percy didn't answer, there was an uncomfortable tickling in the back of his nose, He felt his lungs do the first windup without his permission and desperately tried to stop his nose twitching. Jason watched his back, confused at his friend's odd behaviour

"Percy?" he said uncertainly, almost convinced he'd made the boy cry "Percy you okay?" Once again he got no response and eased himself around the table to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, convinced something was wrong. Percy opened his mouth to say something but instead of words, a huge wet sneeze escaped his mouth.

"Woah!" Jason's eyes widened "Percy what the-" his words were cut off as Percy started sneezing again, his back arching under the force.

"You okay?" Jason asked as Percy straightened up again sniffing wetly

"Yeah" Percy nodded "Its dusty back here" Jason's eyes narrowed as he looked closer at his friend, upon closer inspection Percys nose was bright red along with his cheeks, and his eyes were slightly glazed over. Probably from a fever he thought to himself Why didn't I notice before? He tried to slid a hand onto Percy's forehead to test the theory but the black-haired boy ducked away

"I'm fine" He protested, "I just sneezed" Jason wanted to point out the other obvious signs of illness but stopped, he wasent Percy's girlfriend and he didn't have much authority to tell him to do anything.

"Sure," he said, walking back around the table "where were we?" 15 minutes later, Jason looked up from the map to see Percy stifling what seemed to be his 75th sneeze in his sweatshirt. He sighed as not 20 seconds later the boy's nose started to twitch again.

"Percy maybe you should go to sleep" he suggested as Percy failed to stop the small explosion.

"I'm fine" Percy insisted stubbornly, which didn't have the desired effect considering it came out more like I'b fi'e.

"No, you're not" Jason countered, handing him a tissue "Even without the sneezing you still look like death and sweating bullets" Percy opened his mouth to protest but his lungs as if to prove a point chose that time to erupt in a fit of hacking coughs,

"My definition of fine exactly" Jason muttered, wincing as the coughs grated painfully against his friend's throat.

"What happened to him?" Jason looked over his shoulder to see Leo Valdez standing in the doorway looking worried

"Nothing happened to me" Percy rasped, his voice even hoarser than before

"I'm just-" He broke off into another fit of coughs

"Sick" Leo finished for him "Yeah I can see that"

"Will you tell Will to come to his room?" Jason asked as he looped an arm under Percy's shoulders. Leo nodded and dashed from the room

"Come on Fish boy," Jason muttered, "Let's get you to bed"

He led Percy down the stairs into his cabin and deposited the boy on his bed,

"Thanks" Percy muttered through a fit of coughing "But I promise I'm fine" He tried to sit up but Jason pushed him back down

"Rest idiot," he insisted. Jason pressed a hand to Percy's forehead, oblivious of the boys growing embarrassment and winced as he felt the heat radiating from his skin. This wasn't good, Percy sniffed again, the wet inhale doing nothing to stop his nose from dripping. He really did look pathetic Jason thought as he internally cursed himself. The older boys cheeks were a dark red and he had even darker bags under his eyes.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Jason asked and Percy shrugged

"Two, three days? I've been kinda out of it" He broke off to cough and Jason was reminded of a time back at camp Jupiter when he had been helping a younger camper with a cold, it had technically been below his rank but... he was snapped out of his train of thought as a tan face poked in the doorway.

"Percy okay?" Will called "Because Neeks is down too and I'm a little worried" Jason nodded shooing him away

"Take care of Nico, I've got it here"

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (16/?)

AO3 link: HERE

“Ranpo-san! Can you hear me?! Ranpo-san—!”

I clapped my hand over my mouth and doubled over, coughing so violently I thought I might puke. I’d inhaled a mouthful of ash and dust when I’d called Edogawa’s name and the taste was even worse than the smell. My hair and clothes were blanketed in the stuff and as I stumbled forward, hacking out my lungs, I thought I heard Hatta shouting into a walkie-talkie and calling for a medic.

Why?!

“Ranpo-san, why did you go in?” I coughed, dropping to my knees when I’d reached the pile of smoldering debris. “I thought you solved the case already!”

Edogawa knew as well as I did that if he went into the room, he would be crushed when the roof collapsed over his head. Perhaps he thought he would be safe if he avoided checking the body, the way he had in the vision. After all, I’d seen the ceiling caving in just above the corpse, not in the corner where the jars were kept.

I shoved my hands into the pile of debris and began digging, praying to some unknown god that Edogawa would be alright.

The location may have been different, but everything else had happened exactly as it had in my vision. Was a person’s future fixed after all? And if so, was there any point in struggling to fight the inevitable?

Clouds of dust and soot rose into the air as I continued clearing away the debris, Hatta joining me in my efforts to get to Edogawa. Seconds, each more agonizing than the last, slowly passed and I felt the panic rising in my throat when our efforts barely seemed to make a difference in the size of the pile...

Slamming my hands down on the broken floorboards, I let out a desperate scream.

“Say something!!”

“There’s no need to yell,” a muffled voice called back, “I can hear you just fine!”

I stopped digging immediately.

“Ranpo-san?!”

At once, the pile beneath my hands began to shift. Without warning, a grimy, soot-covered Edogawa popped out of the ground in a shower of dirt. I let out a surprised shriek and fell over backwards onto my butt.

“Phew, that was a close one,” Edogawa muttered, dusting off his poncho as his entire torso emerged from a strange, circular hole in the ground.

“Wh-where did you come from?!” I stammered. “How did you—?!”

“Really Kusunoki-kun, did you think a member of the Armed Detective Agency could be done in by a mere accident?” Edogawa sighed. “Minus one point.”

He threw aside something that looked like a dirty frisbee and put his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t climbing out of some random hole in the ground, but an enormous clay pickle pot that had been buried in the dirt; the frisbee he’d just tossed aside was actually its weighted lid. As I watched, Edogawa lifted one foot out of the pot, planted it on the circular rim and immediately slipped on its grimy surface. He fell back into the pot with a soft yelp.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me up!”

At once, I stumbled forward and reached out to grab onto his hand. However, the moment Edogawa’s bare fingers closed around my wrist, I realized (too late) that neither of us were wearing gloves. I squeezed my eyes shut, readying myself to push the incoming vision away, the way I had when I’d caught the kidnapper Kunikida and I were chasing.

Please don’t let my eyes start bleeding again! If Hatta sees, my secret might be exposed...!

But nothing happened.

There was no tug of gravity and no blacking out. No headache either. I could still definitely feel the warmth of Edogawa’s hand but it was as if I weren’t hanging onto Edogawa at all.

No. The only other time I had felt something like this was when I was holding onto Dazai with his Ability canceling powers...

I opened my eyes, half expecting to see the bandaged detective himself in front of me but what I saw instead was a very cross-looking Edogawa.

“Some assistant you are,” he snapped, suddenly tugging at my arm so hard so that he almost yanked me into the pot with him. “See if I take you on another case again!”

Mumbling an apology under my breath, I grabbed onto him with both hands and with Hatta’s help, pulled him free of the enormous pot at last. Once he had both feet on solid ground again, Edogawa dusted off his hat, turned to me and shook his head.

“And here I thought you’d directed me to this particular corner because you’d seen the pickle jar buried in the ground and thought it would be a good place to hide in case the roof really did collapse.”

He clicked his tongue.

“But judging by your reaction, you definitely didn’t. Maybe we should get you a pair of glasses too.”

“Edogawa-san! Are you alright?” Hatta asked, just as a group of medics appeared on the staircase.

“I’m more than alright,” Edogawa said, grinning. “I’ve just solved this entire case! Here.”

He stuck out his hand and opened his palm. Perched on its surface, looking rather grimy but otherwise perfectly intact, was a lumpy green key chain. He rubbed it between his fingers to clean it off and as a set of tiny features finally emerged, I could clearly see it for what it was.

“That’s the Statue of Liberty,” I said, my eyes widening. “The one in New York City!”

“Correct!” Edogawa declared, “Plus one point! But I’m also subtracting one point for your failure to pull me out of that giant pickle jar when I first called out to you for help, so you’re at negative one for now...”

“Ehh?!”

“I’ll total up your final score when we get back to the Agency. Kunikida-kun’s good with math, I’ll have him help.”

I blanched.

“No! Please don’t tell Kunikida-san—!”

“Anyway,” Edogawa continued, twirling the key chain around on his index finger, “This belonged to your victim. My assistant here was right to suspect he was looking for something in the pickle jars but this was surprisingly hard to find...”

He tossed the key chain at Hatta, who caught it between two hands.

“What’s so special about this key chain?” he asked, voicing the question I wanted to ask.

“This isn’t something you can just order online,” Edogawa explained. “Take a look at the bottom. There’s a sticker with the price tag in American dollars still attached. Our victim here was never able to get it off. Which means he, or someone close to him, bought this in New York City.”

He pointed to the body.

“Check his clothes thoroughly. You’re going to find a key that corresponds to the lock outside. This man was given access to the basement in the past but it’s clear that he shouldn’t have been here last night.”

This time he pointed to the corner where the body lay.

“When he heard the owners of the house coming, he ran for this corner so he could hide, but he tripped when he came down the steps. He landed right over there, where the force of his fall loosened several bricks from that pile, which knocked him out. I believe Daisuke Ito, the elderly husband, had very poor hearing so he didn’t hear the bricks falling down. Not only that, his memory was starting to go so when he came upon the lock and found it open, he’d just assumed he or his wife had forgotten to lock it and promptly locked it himself, not knowing the victim was inside. Then the fire started in the kitchen and you know the rest.”

“But the victim,” I protested, “Who is he?”

Edogawa stared at me. Then he jabbed a finger at me.

“Minus another point.”

“Eh?!”

“You didn’t see the backpack lying outside in the yard?” he asked, looking annoyed, “It’s right there! It’s burned pretty badly but anyone could see it was a backpack!”

Bewildered, I turned to Hatta, as if he might come to my defense but Hatta just gave me an apologetic shrug and pulled out his walkie-talking. He instructed one of the officers standing outside to search the garbage pile near the doors. From down below, we heard the sounds of the officer ruffling through the burned trash and then a very loud gasp.

“We found a U.S. passport!” the officer called out, down the stairs.

My eyes widened.

“This guy’s a foreigner?!”

Edogawa grinned.

“Close. He’s a double citizen.”

My jaw dropped.

“No way...”

“Your victim is either the child of a family friend or a not-so-distant relative,” Edogawa said, tucking his hands into his pockets and proceeding towards the stairs. “He used to help out with the pickle-making business and was close enough with the Ito’s that he was personally given a key to the basement. One day, while our victim was working, he dropped the key chain into that pot by accident. Shortly after, he had a falling out with the family and stopped working here. However, Ito’s either forgot about the key they’d handed out or decided not to ask for it back, in case their relationship improved again and the victim could resume working with them. It seems it didn’t happen in time, so this man was forced to sneak back in just last night so he could retrieve his key chain. It’s a pretty cheap object, meaning this was clearly a sentimental item he got when he’d last visited the States. I think he was planning to take it with him for his final trip back to the U.S.”

He yelled up the stairs at the officer.

“Read me the name on that passport!”

There was a pause.

“It’s in English! Hang on...”

And then another gasp.

“It’s Ito Haru! Holy shit!!”

Hatta’s jaw dropped. He turned to Edogawa, looking stunned.

“Ito Haru is their great nephew. He was reported missing four months ago! What was he doing here?!”

“He must’ve been on the run,” Edogawa concluded. “Probably had debts of some sort. Anyway, you’re the police, you can look into that on your own.”

He made a face.

“I’m going home to take a shower.”

He wiped his hands down on his clothes (it made no difference—both his hands and his garments were filthy with brownish goop and dirt) and proceeded toward the exit.

“Kusunoki-kun!”

I snapped to attention.

“Yes!”

“Hurry up! I need to go home.”

“Be right there!”

I couldn’t believe it. Just like that, the case was over. Edogawa had solved it in a matter of minutes. Not only that, he’d escaped being injured by the collapsing ceiling even though I’d seen it happen in one of my visions.

For the first time in forever, I had been wrong.

Beautifully and mercifully wrong.

I grabbed my bag from where I’d dropped it and followed Edogawa up the stairs. Hatta and the medics he’d summoned earlier bowed deeply as we passed them. Edogawa merely tipped his hat in farewell as he left but I bowed to each one as I went, determined to maintain as much professionalism as I could (Kunikida was right, we still had the Agency’s reputation to think about). When we finally reached the top of the stairs and stepped blinking into the bright midday sun, Edogawa reached inside his pocket and pulled out a single wrapped piece of gummy candy.

“Well I’d say that went pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

He tore open the package and popped the bite-sized treat into his mouth, as I stared incredulously at him.

“What?” he asked, chewing noisily. “You don’t think so?”

“Ranpo-san,” I said, “The roof collapsed on you earlier. You could’ve died.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” he said, already pulling a second piece of gummy candy from his pocket.

“Yes, you could!”

“No,” Edogawa repeated, staring me down. “I couldn’t.”

It was like talking to a child. I slapped my hand over my eyes and groaned.

“Look,” Edogawa said, swallowing his piece of candy at long last, “Kusunoki-kun, you’re good. But you’re not that good. After everything I’ve seen today, I can say two things with absolute certainty: one, your Ability does not work on the same person twice in one day. I saw your face when you tried to pull me out of that jar earlier. That was the shocked look of an Ability User who suddenly found they couldn’t use their powers. I’ve seen it enough times to know what I’m talking about. Two...”

Grinning, he pointed at me.

“Your visions aren’t absolute. How do I know this?”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m not dead,” he said simply. “And I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you were wrong.”

But I shook my head.

“Every vision I’ve seen so far has come true,” I argued. “Every single one. Even if I’m not there to see it happen in person, I’ll hear about it and it’s always horrible. Ranpo-san, I don’t know how you managed to survive because I can’t think of a single other person who—”

The words died in my throat.

Edogawa raised an eyebrow and watched as comprehension slowly dawned on my face and I whispered a single name.

“Yamazaki-san.”

“Who’s that?”

“My neighbor,” I answered, turning to him in astonishment. “She lived across the hall from me before I moved into the Agency apartment. I... I told Kunikida-san and Dazai-san about her, that she was going to be murdered and they sent her away to Nagano, to live with her nephew. She... She’s still alive.”

I felt my knees give way and I collapsed in an unsteady heap on the scorched grass. My head was spinning.

“I don’t understand...”

Edogawa watched me quietly for a moment, then reached into his pocket for yet another piece of candy.

“How often do you tell people about your visions, Kusunoki-kun?” he asked thoughtfully, turning the candy over in his hand.

“Never. This is only the second time. The first time was when I met Kunikida-san and Dazai-san.”

I looked away.

“I never even told my own relatives. I didn’t want them to think I was crazy.”

Or worse, cursed, the way many Ability Users were.

“I see...”

Edogawa looked at the piece of candy in his hand, staring through it as if it held the answers he were looking for inside its brightly colored wrapper.

“So this is the second time you’ve told someone what you saw and the second time that the act of merely telling someone has changed the vision. Hmm...”

He looked up at me.

“You ever heard of the ‘Observer Effect?’”

“Sort of... I think it was mentioned during one of my physics classes way back when. That’s what it’s called when the act of simply observing an event changes the event itself, right?”

“Correct. Plus one point,” Edogawa said, tossing the piece of candy to me. “It seems to me that your Ability works in a way that’s similar to the Observer Effect. In other words, the very act of telling someone about the contents of your visions will alter the outcome. Why is this? It’s because upon hearing their future, a person will become consumed with thoughts of how to change it if they don’t like the outcome and thoughts of how to make it come true no matter what if they do like the outcome. It’s like those old Greek myths.”

“But if I’m the one seeing the vision,” I protested, “Wouldn’t that make me an ‘observer?’ Why does my observing the vision not change the outcome?”

“But it has,” Edogawa explained. “You said so yourself. When you told Kunikida-kun and Dazai-san about your vision, they protected your elderly neighbor and prevented her murder. The only reason nothing had ever changed before was because you never had much of an incentive to change another person’s future and so never told a soul. Surely they couldn’t have all been life-or-death situations?”

He was right. They weren’t. I could tell by the smug look on his face that he knew it as well as I did.

“Ranpo-san,” I said, slowly getting to my feet. “You’re amazing...! You really are.”

At that, Edogawa beamed.

“I am, right?”

“But I do have one more question... How did you avoid getting crushed the way I saw in my vision?” I asked. “I saw it from Hatta-san’s perspective. Usually that means whoever the vision is actually about dies—”

“Oh come on, Kusunoki-kun,” Edogawa sighed. “I thought it was obvious?”

When I shook my head, he let out another sigh, heavier this time.

“I’ll put it simply then: I believe in the power of possibility.”

He took out his glasses and spun them around his finger. The light caught on the thick glass of the lenses and they flashed in the sun.

“When you told me what you saw in my future, I refused to believe it. I didn’t want to. Me, the Great Detective, Edogawa Ranpo, meet his end, not at the hands of a brilliant rival, but in some rickety burned house, crushed to death like a tiny insignificant bug?”

He shook his head.

“No. That’s not how it’s going to be. ‘I won’t let it,’ I thought. And so I thought... and I thought... and I thought...”

I watched his glasses spin faster and faster around on his finger, picking up speed as he spoke.

“And then I realized something.”

He caught the glasses in his hand.

“This was just another puzzle. If I operate under the assumption that your visions are not absolute, that they show the most likely possibility rather than an unchangeable fact, then I could try to think of a way out. And if I succeeded, then I could change the future.”

Placing the glasses back on his face, he grinned, an overpowering aura of confidence radiating from his sharp, green eyes.

“And who better to change the future than the Great Detective?”

I was floored.

Holy crap, he really was a genius.

“Besides,” he said, taking the glasses off and frowning at a speck of dirt on them. “I told you before that these glasses are important to me, didn’t I?”

He grabbed a corner of my jacket and, ignoring my protests, started polishing the glass with the clean lining.

“There is no possible future in which I would let anything happen to these. None.”

He tucked them back into his pocket and marched off.

“Now come on! There’s a shower I need to take and snacks yet to be eaten. As payment for your lesson today, I will charge you the low, low price of two boxes of Kit-Kats.”

“Two?!”

“One for the lesson and two for almost letting me die. Now stop dawdling. I haven’t had lunch yet and I’m starving!”

Once again, I hurried after him. A small group of police staff rushed past us in the direction of the basement, barely acknowledging our presence as we walked away from the house and towards the street, where I could see the subway entrance several blocks away. As I pocketed the gummy candy Edogawa had given me, he stopped walking and spoke up one final time.

“You know, normally I’d complain about my assistant being constantly on the phone in the middle of a case but in this situation, I think I’ll let it go.”

He turned to me just as the crosswalk light behind him turned red. His grin looked just a touch unsteady.

“If Dazai-san hadn’t been texting you all this time... Who knows what could have happened?”

***

“Ah, Kusunoki-kun.”

For a brief moment, Kunikida seemed just as surprised to see me coming into the first floor lobby as I was to see him already standing there.

“Good timing,” he said, sounding relieved. “Could you please get the elevator for me? I’d do it myself but...”

He shifted the heavy stack of papers piled high in his arms to indicate his current predicament but all I saw was the way his shirt sleeves stretched over his biceps when he moved. The coat I was wearing suddenly felt too thick and warm.

“G-good afternoon, Kunikida-san.”

I could already feel the awkward smile tugging at my cheeks when I spoke and I struggled to keep my voice even as I hurried over.

“Of course! Just a second.”

“Thanks. That really helps,” he sighed, shifting in place as I pushed the button for him and stepped back to stand beside him.

“What are all those papers for?” I asked, eyeing the thick stack in his arms. “Do you want me to take some of them up for you?”

Shaking his head slightly, Kunikida observed me from behind the stack. His glasses slipped just a fraction down his nose and I found myself wanting to push them back up for him.

“That won’t be necessary. I just need to take these to the clerk room so Haruno-san and the others can type them up. By the way...”

He squinted at me.

“Why is your hair wet?”

I twitched.

“Oh, that,” I laughed nervously, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I had to go home to take a shower. I was out on a case this morning and things got a little... messy... I didn’t want to come back to the Agency covered in dirt.”

After dropping Edogawa off at his apartment (“You’re my assistant so I expect you to write the report for me,” he’d said, “I’m going snack shopping. Have Kunikida-kun call me if something comes up.”), I’d immediately rushed home and jumped into the shower with my clothes still on. Edogawa and I had been covered in so much foul-smelling grime that all the other subway passengers had gone out of their way to avoid us. Even the cleaning staff had shot us dirty looks as we’d left. I’d spent so much time trying to clean myself off that I barely got the chance to eat.

“So you used your lunch break to go home and clean up?” Kunikida asked.

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t have time to dry my hair,” I mumbled. “I was hoping to get back early and there wasn’t enough time...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kunikida said as the elevator arrived with a soft chime. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally have an employee who thinks about the Agency’s reputation.”

He inclined his head towards the elevator and made an apologetic face.

“Sorry but could you get that, please?”

I nodded and went in ahead to hold the door for him. But when he settled in next to me and the doors came to a close, I suddenly realized that I was alone in a somewhat small space with Kunikida Doppo—the very tall, very handsome blonde detective I was definitely crushing on. If my coat felt too warm before, I was burning up now.

As the silence slowly settled in, the air around us seemed to thicken.

I wanted to think of something to say, something that would make this whole situation less awkward. But for some reason, all I could think about was the fact that this was my first time interacting with Kunikida again after the incident with Dazai and the notebook the day before. I realized I should probably take this time to explain what had happened but my tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Thankfully, Kunikida broke the silence first.

“Kusunoki-kun.”

I nearly jumped in surprise.

“Y-yes?”

“Before we get to the Agency, I have something I need to tell you.”

My heart was pounding in my chest and I clutched at the strap of my bag.

“W-what is it?”

“About yesterday...”

I swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Don’t let what happened bother you,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead at the doors. “Dazai likes to mess with people and this wouldn’t be the first time he’s dragged a kohai into his antics. He still tries to pawn off his desk work on Atsushi-kun from time to time.”

I grimaced.

Somehow I wasn’t surprised...

“So I just want to let you know that if Dazai ever goes too far,” Kunikida said, turning to me with just a hint of a frown on his face, “You can always come talk to me.”

There was a soft chime and the elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Once again, I held the door and then followed Kunikida out into the hallway.

“So what happened on your case this morning?” he asked, looking at me curiously as we walked towards the office.

“Oh, I was with Ranpo-san.”

“Ranpo-san, huh? I’m guessing things went pretty well if you’re on a first-name basis with him now?”

“Sort of?”

I gave him a short summary about the case as we walked down the hall together, Kunikida nodding at the appropriate intervals and his eyes widening significantly when I told him what Edogawa had worked out about my Ability. I didn’t want to spoil the mood (or give him any reason to worry about me), so I purposefully left out the part about my eyes bleeding. Kunikida was the last person I wanted to lie to but this didn’t seem like the right time to tell him. I had just stepped through the door and was holding it open for Kunikida when a tall figure wearing a sand-colored trench coat suddenly barreled through, smacking into Kunikida—and forcing him to drop everything he was holding.

Bewildered, I poked my head out into the hallway to see a storm of papers flying everywhere and a familiar figure in a trench coat lying on top of Kunikida, their limbs tangled together a mess of body parts.

I watched Kunikida’s face grow redder and redder as the rage began to build and I hopped back into the foyer and covered my ears as Kunikida’s furious roar shook the building.

“DAZAIIIII!!”

[qvill-s]

oo o I recently got discharged from hospital & seeing your prompts open is the icing on the cake!! may I request the "you'll always be safe with me" from the soft sentence starters with dorothea? thank you so much for everything you do 💖💝💞

NOTES: i’m so sorry i got this in so late, but i hope you’re doing better nonnie !!!

there’s some nightmares about typical wartime stuff going on in this one, but i tried not to make it too descriptive. nevertheless, please tread carefully bbs

dorothea + “you’ll always be safe with me” right under the cut !!!

You wake with a jolt, jerking upwards off of the bed, covered in sweat, chest heaving, fists clenched into the sheets. The dredges of your nightmare linger around the edges of your vision, the dead and those you’ve killed flitting in and out in pale, faceless shapes with hands that extend ever further, reaching, reaching reaching—

Vaguely, you register the feeling of a hand around the crook of your elbow and you flinch in alarm. Immediately, the hand retracts, slinking backwards, and you crane a cautious eye over your shoulder to find its source. When you find only Dorothea pushing herself off of the bed, the worried green of her eyes trained on you all the while, you let out the shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

She rises slowly, moving to sit next to you, and her voice is nothing more than a whisper when she asks, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you bite out against your breathlessness. “I’m fine.”

There’s a moment of silence—her touch hovers over your shoulder—before you lift up your corner of the blankets, saying, “I’m going to go get a drink.

“Let me get it for you,” she says, insists, her hand finding itself back into the crook of your elbow. You find the strength to stop yourself from flinching, but she seems to feel your hesitation just as keenly, because she accompanies her next word with a squeeze to your elbow. “Please.”

“Okay,” you say, but you wish for anything but, and the word leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

She flashes you a small smile in response, earnest, eager, drained off all the drowsiness she may have housed, as she gets out of bed. When she leaves the room, peeking back in long enough to tell you, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” it feels as though the universe had gotten the tiniest bit darker. The shadows, you note, grow long without her by your side.

In the furthest corner of the room, on the side hidden from the light of the moon, you think you see something move. You blink and blink and blink, and you feel as though it shifts its position every time you do so, inching ever closer to where you sit huddled among the sheets of your bed. Eventually, you snap your eyes closed and bury your face in your hands—if you can’t see it it doesn’t exist if you can’t see it it doesn’t exist—counting the seconds until Dorothea returns.

It’s a little pathetic, honestly, that you should still keep seeing the monsters of the war from five years ago, that you should be haunted by the faces of the friends you’ve killed when everyone around you has so clearly moved on and made something better of their lives. 

You are the only one stuck in the past, in that same battlefield, in that same moment, over and over and over again. You are the only one stuck on your blade to his neck, the defiant look in his eye before—

( ”Surrender,” you tell him, plead, because you remember him as one of your dearest friends during your Academy days. You remember sneaking out of the dormitories to haunt the empty halls of Garreg Mach in the dead of night, of squeezing into alcoves and hallway closets to avoid the guards. You remember how he encouraged you to talk to the girl who was now the love of your life, who mesmerized you with the curl of her dark hair as it laid upon her shoulder and the bright green of her eyes that belied a sharpness she kept well hidden, and who mesmerizes you still.

Your blade presses closer to his neck in a weak attempt to coax him to speak. His face twists into a grimace when a sliver of skin opens up and beads red, adorning his neck in a set of blood-red pearls that gleam in the haze of dusk and the battlefield.

His brown eyes narrow into a glare as he says, “Never.” )

Dorothea announces her presence with a soft call of your name. When you lift your head from your hands, you find her standing by your side, cradling your cup in the palm of her hands. She hands it over to you—chamomile, you realize, when you inhale its earthy, floral aroma and feel some of the tension leave your shoulders—with a kiss to the skin above your brow and a gentle hand smoothing itself across your shoulder.

As she settles herself beside you, an idle hand tracing nonsensical patterns on the knees hidden under the thick fabric of the blankets, you realize you don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve her kindness, the gentleness of her touch, the simple, wordless way she tells you to take as long as you need.

“I’m here if you need me,” she says, a careful, open-ended statement that tells you you’re free to speak of what had frightened you if you so wished. And you wish, 

( ”There’s still time,” you say, desperate to find another way, to spare him, to fight with him at your side once more. Your voice softens, “I don’t want to kill my best friend.” )

you wish, 

( ”Our friendship died when you chose to be on the wrong side,” he snarls, a primal sound broken up by his hacking coughs as he fights against the arrow in his thigh and the gash in his stomach. He meets your eyes in a blaze, the brown of his eyes melting into a fiery bronze as he tells you, “I will never join your cause.” )

but there’s a fist closed tightly around your neck, a lump in your throat that makes it hard to speak.

At your lack of response, she affixes you with a gaze that’s both piercing and gentle and coaxing all at once. In a tone so soft and so gentle that you are wholly unworthy of receiving, she asks you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Both contemplatively and definitively, you decide that she is much too good to be burdened with your childish troubles and regrets. “I’m fine.”

She holds your gaze. After a beat of silence, she closes her eyes, head falling towards her chest as she lets out a sigh that sounds much heavier than her body can hold. The hand on your knee travels up your body, a phantom touch tracing a trail across your skin as it hovers over to the free hand on your lap, followed by eyes that do not—will not?—meet your own. “I wish you’d rely on me more.”

Her quiet confession hangs heavy in the air, and the lump in your throat grows larger, the hand around your neck tighter. You say the only thing you can think of saying, choking out a pathetic little “I’m sorry” as you stare at the hand that covers yours. 

Her fingers are delicate, pale and long, and they fit perfectly in the spaces between your own. You turn your hand over and press your palm to hers, weaving your fingers through her own until her hand is caught tightly in your grip.

How do you tell her that she deserves better? 

How do you tell her that she deserves someone stronger, someone resolute and unwavering in their actions? 

How do you tell her that she deserves someone who doesn’t grapple with the past, with the things you’ve done and the things you didn’t do, the actions and the inactions of the war that killed so many?

How do you tell her these things and still convince her to stay?

Your cup is now empty, drunken down to the last drops, to the bitterness of the tea leaves that managed to soak through, and you wait with bated breath for a sign, for the words of your heart that you can’t seem to place.

“I still think about it, you know,” she tells you, a quiet murmur breaking through your thoughts like a ripple on calm waters. “The war. I’ve… I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. I think we all have. But back then, it was so easy to forget that those people had a family, that they had someone waiting for them back home. Now that the war’s over…” She sighs. “It’s a little harder to put aside.”

“Even after all these years?” You inquire softly, surprised to hear that Dorothea—brave, self-assured Dorothea—felt the same way.

She nods, a solemn bob of her head, as she says, “Even after all these years.”

( You think, briefly, of sparing his life, of pretending to kill him and move on to a more faceless enemy. You look over your shoulder to see if anyone is watching, and catch the eye of your professor. There’s a glint of understanding in your professor’s eye, and you watch their mouth form a grim line as they, in response, solemnly, damnably, shakes their head.

With a heavy heart and your breath locked in your lungs, you swing of your blade. You close your eyes when you hear the sound of flesh ripping and choked, watery gurgles, pretending that it is a stranger. You pretend that you’ve never had meals or took tea with him. You pretend that you’ve never heard the sound of his laugh, or seen the mischievous glint in his eye. You pretend that the hours and hours and countless hours you’ve spent by his side have never happened. You pretend that he is a stranger, and that he always has been. )

“Me too,” you say, a choked confession ripping its way out of the confines of your throat as the tears you held back start to drip down your cheeks. With her free hand, Dorothea lifts your chin up from your chest and brushes the first droplets of your tears with the pad of her thumb. When the stream grows and she can no longer keep up with its current, she wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as you bury your head into the shoulder of her nightgown.

For the first time since the war, you cry. You cry for the people who lived, for those who will have to carry on with their lives with the loss of a loved one weighing heavy on their hearts. You cry for Dorothea, for loving you so deeply and so tenderly in all the ways you didn’t deserve, for the sadness you never knew she still carried. You cry for the people you’ve killed, for the soldiers you didn’t know and the ones you did. Most of all, you cry for your friend, for your inability to spare him, and for the blood-red pearls that were the last gift you will ever give him. 

Sometime between then and now, the two of you find yourselves back under the sheets, with only the occasional hitched breath as a remnant to your tears.

In a sudden burst of bravery—or perhaps it was your drowsiness speaking—you ask, “You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Dorothea?”

She gives you a watery smile as she presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until we’re old and grey, my love.” 

She wraps her arms tighter around you, and you return the favor, kissing the notch between her collarbones as you bury your face into her neck. She sighs, a soft, sweet sound, smoothing a hand down your back once, twice. “I’ll keep you safe until then.”

[mizmahlia]

Some guys have all the luck (or not)

Summary: Last time Tim checked the dictionary, he was one hundred percent certain isolation meant being alone and separated from others. So when he wakes up in Gotham General's isolation unit, he's surprised to see his entire family standing on the other side of the window.

Leave it to them to change the definition.

TW: The only warning is for general medical stuff like the description of symptoms. Nothing graphic.

AO3

Tim had nothing personal against rats, really. They were living, breathing creatures after all, and had a right to survive like any other being. But when they multiplied into the hundreds and thousands and were controlled by a former pest control agent who used them to do his criminal bidding?

Yeah, then he had a problem with them.

For the longest time they believed Otis Flannegan was dead. No one, criminal or otherwise, had heard from him in months after his encounter with Penguin, and along with Otis, his enormous rat colony had seemingly disappeared. So when a flood of calls came into local pest control companies about brown rat infestations, Tim got curious.

After hacking into the computer systems of four pest control businesses in the Bowery, he managed to find a single common denominator. Most of the calls were from businesses, apartment complexes and single-family homes near major sewer junctions. That meant one of two things. Either Waylon Jones had made some new friends, or their dear friend Otis wasn’t dead after all.

Tim laughed quietly as he lowered himself through a manhole. The thought of Waylon Jones talking to a bunch of rats was way funnier than it should have been. As his boots hit the bottom of the sewer tunnel he pulled out a high-powered flashlight and checked his watch. It was just past midnight and he promised Bruce he’d turn in early tonight on account of running a reconnaissance job with Dick the night before. He’d been awake a little too long for Bruce’s liking and while he hated to admit it, Tim knew he was right.

He sloshed through the brackish water and was grateful for the new boots Jason gave him. Any time they had to climb into a sewer tunnel meant their gear smelled absolutely horrible for several days.  Jason found some great combat boots that repelled water better than their Wayne Tech-issued boots and gave Tim a pair when he mentioned he was looking for Otis. Between the boots and Tim ditching his cape for the night, he was confident he wouldn’t have to go home smelling quite as bad as usual.

The tunnel stretched out in front of him for about a hundred yards before it branched off to the left and right. Based on the system maps on his gauntlet screen, the main source of the infestation was to the right. Once at the end, he turned in that direction and sighed when he heard the beginnings of a high-pitched echo- undoubtedly the squeaking of an enormous rat colony.

“Way to go, Drake,” he muttered. “You should have left this one for Batman or Hood.”

The couple of inches of putrid water dried up into nothing the further he went, and the sharp smell of rodent urine invaded Tim’s nostrils, making him cringe. He was definitely heading in the right direction and based on how loud the noise was, he figured the colony was just ahead and to the left. He stopped for a moment, debating whether he should put his respirator on, and decided against it. That far underground, his voice would echo terribly anyway, and he didn’t want to take the chance Otis would mishear him and sic his rats on him, so the respirator stayed in its pouch on his belt.

He turned the corner and pointed his flashlight into the middle of the cavern, sighing when his suspicions were confirmed. The cavern floor was covered with rats and Otis was standing on a bucket in the middle, caressing one as another scurried up his shoulder.

“Otis? I’m gonna have to ask you to take your rats and get out of here.”

Otis turned to him and glared.

“I haven’t done anything wrong. Leave us alone.”

Tim stepped further into the room, dragging his feet so he wouldn’t step on any of them. He cringed when a rat, at least six inches long by his estimate, hopped across the top of his boots. He fought the urge to kick his foot and fling it away from him.

“Yet,” Tim replied. “We haven’t caught you doing anything yet.  But this is a public health concern,” he said carefully. “And if you don’t leave, the pest control companies are going to start using traps and poison to eradicate the problem above ground, and I know you don’t want that.”

Otis leaned down and let the rat waddle down his arm and hop to the floor.

“Why are you being so nice?”

Tim shrugged.

“I’d rather not make a colony of rats this size angry. I’m not a fan of rodents.”

Otis sighed and stepped down off the bucket.

“At least you’re honest.”

He turned and started walking toward the other end of the room toward a tunnel branch leading toward the Sprang River. But before he could get very far, a thundering roar echoed into the room from behind Tim and the rats startled, swarming for the tunnel Otis was heading toward. They stirred up a massive cloud of dust as they went, turning the room hazy. Tim fumbled for his respirator and managed to hold it to his face as he followed Otis. He could hear Waylon lumbering down the tunnel he’d come from, presumably to investigate who dared to enter his sewer.

Once outside, Tim lowered the respirator and coughed, mentally cringing when he realized what he inhaled wasn’t just dust and dirt from the floor, but urine and fecal matter from the rat colony was well.

Gross.

On his ways back to Redbird, he calculated the chances of his getting sick from exposure to all of that and figured since he had the respirator on as long as he did, the chance was fairly low.

He left the visor of his helmet up for the ride home to savor the fresh air.

A pretty easy night, all things considered.

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

The symptoms began less than a week later.

In the days after his visit to the sewers, he began feeling achy and tired, with his hips, back and shoulders hurting the most. He was nauseous and had a headache that just wouldn’t quit, though the acetaminophen helped ease the pain to a tolerable level. The low-grade fever he had at first climbed to 101F, and that’s what did him in.

He missed a get together with Jason to have coffee and catch up. When Tim didn’t show and Jason couldn’t reach him, he went to the Manor to find Tim lying on the floor next to his bed.

“Tim? What the hell? Are you okay?”

Jason crouched and wasted no time in picking Tim up off the floor. He gently set him on the edge of the bed and frowned. He held the backs of his fingers against Tim’s cheek before putting his hand on Tim’s forehead.

“Christ, kid. You’re practically on fire.”

Tim attempted to shrug but nearly fell over backward.

“’M fine,” he said. “Just the flu.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and remained where he was, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He noted how pale Tim was in addition to the fever.

“How long have you been sick?”

Tim tried to answer but before he could say a word, he began to cough. He held up three fingers.

“You’ve been sick for three days?”

Tim continued to cough and Jason watched as struggled to breathe in between. He reached a hand out and latched on to Jason’s wrist, squeezing tightly. Jason covered Tim’s hand with his and shook his head.

“That’s it. We’re going to the emergency room.” He quickly tapped out a text to Bruce, Alfred and Dick before taking off his wool pea coat and wrapping Tim in it.

“C’mon Timbit, let’s go get you checked out.”

Tim leaned his head against Jason’s shoulder, wincing as they went down the stairs. Even though Jason was careful not to jostle Tim much, everything hurt and he couldn’t catch his breath.

“We’re going to take the Range Rover,” he heard Jason say on their way to the garage. “It’s got heated seats and it’s easier to lift you in and out of.”

The last thing that crossed Tim’s mind before he passed out was how much Jason reminded him of Bruce, even down to the way he tried to hide how scared he was.

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

Before he even opened his eyes, Tim decided it was too quiet in his room.

He could hear absolutely everything and nothing all at the same time, and it was disconcerting, to say the least. Something to his left beeped in time to his heartbeat. There was a rhythmic ‘whoosh’ on his right. And he heard the murmur of voices somewhere in the near distance, though he couldn’t make anything out.

He opened his eyes and saw the stark white ceiling tiles first. His gaze dragged tiredly from the ceiling to the wall at the foot of his bed, then to the door on the left. There was a sign on the glass and the only words large enough for him to read said, ‘CAUTION: ISOLATION. DO NOT ENTER’.

That’s not good.

It was only when he tried to swallow that he realized a ventilator was breathing for him. He fought the urge to panic and clawed at the blankets, desperately trying to find a call button. The beeping on the heart monitor increased and the noise made the panic worse. There was a knock on the window and Tim turned his head to see Jason with his hands against the glass.

“Tim, try to relax. Let the vent do its job. There’s a nurse coming, okay?”

Tim managed a thumbs-up and felt tears run back into his hair. He closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to let the ventilator work. The door opened a minute later and a nurse rushed in, covered head to toe in protective gear. She smiled when she got close enough and rested a gloved hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Try to relax a little, Tim. There’s a doctor coming and we’ll see if we can take that breathing tube out. In the meantime, I’ll explain what’s going on, okay?”

He blinked in response and she picked up his hand.

“Squeeze once for yes and two for no.”

Tim squeezed once.

“Do you know where you are?”

Once squeeze, then two more.

“You’re at Gotham General in the isolation unit.”

He saw Bruce rush to Jason’s side and look into the room, raising his hand against the glass.

“You’re going to be okay, but you gave us a scare. We had to intubate you four days ago when you got too sick to breathe on your own. Thankfully your brother brought you to the emergency department when he did.”

He squeezed her hand once.

“You’ll be in isolation for a little while yet because you’re still infectious. You’ve got something called Hantavirus pulmonary syndrome.”

Tim’s expression must have been shocked because she smiled and nodded.

“I know. It’s incredibly rare. You’re one of the lucky ones; nearly forty percent of those who contract this don’t survive. You’ll have to tell us how in the world you managed to come into contact with the infected rats.”

A long pause before another squeeze.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to have visitors in your room while you’re in isolation, but they can certainly visit you through the window.”

She moved out of the way so Tim could see the entire window. Dick had joined Jason and Bruce, and Damian appeared next to Dick. He felt his eyelids growing heavy and tried to keep them open.

“Why don’t you get some rest. The call button is in your right hand, and when you wake up again, we’ll have the doctor remove the ventilator.”

One more squeeze and Tim let sleep take him.

Even though he was quarantined, his family made sure he wasn’t alone. During visiting hours, at least one person was there to keep him company. And Damian had let it slip that he hadn’t been in school since Tim was admitted, in order to prevent Tim from waking up and not having family there. And Dick grinned mischievously when Tim asked what the hospital thought of the constant stream of visitors, mentioning something about a grant from Wayne Enterprises.

There was an intercom they could use to talk to him, and they all took turns keeping him up to date on what was going on in the outside world. He was a bit of a celebrity for contracting the hantavirus, one of only four cases nationwide that year. Jason helped him come up with his cover story about chasing a stray cat into a vacant apartment building in the middle of the rat infestation zone. Poor Tim Drake and his bad luck.

“You should have worn your respirator, kid.”

Tim sighed and fell back against the pillows behind him.

“I know.”

Jason nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I mean, not to be that guy, but you’re immuno-compromised and need to be careful.”

Tim looked up, surprised at the emotion in Jason’s voice. He was staring right back at Tim, green eyes glassy.

“You had me terrified. I thought you stopped breathing on the way to the ER, and you actually did stop breathing a couple of times before they put you on the ventilator.”

Tim didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t try.

“Look, I’m not trying to lecture you. But this, this was a close call. As close as they come where you remain above ground.”

Tim swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, suddenly feeling very alone.

“Hey, Timbit. Look at me.” Jason’s voice was rough, but kind. “C’mon.”

Tim looked up to see Bruce appear behind Jason’s chair, squeezing his shoulder. Dick was there again as well, as were Damian and Stephanie. Tim longed to be able to be in the same room as them so they could hug him, and he could hug them back.

“Just a couple more days until you’re in a regular room,” Dick said, grinning. “Then you’ll get all the hugs you can stand, plus a few more.”

“Yeah, I’ve been saving a few for you,” Steph added. “By my count, I owe you at least sixteen.”

Tim laughed and while it hurt a bit, he didn’t mind.

Despite having been in this room by himself for so long, he hadn’t been alone in the slightest.

Leave it to his family to re-designate isolation as a group activity.