#the lower is the hidden one that he plucked when he was younger

[tagzpite]

dont need the light to see you shine

WINGED ACE AUUUU

[myhiraeth]

@headstrongblake sent: GRAB / STYXX AND O Styxxtavia - Specialsverse

Long legs carry her swiftly to the door, but his longer ones catch up quickly, an equally long arm reaching out to encircle her wrist with strong, unyielding fingers. “Octavia, stop.” 

She tried to yank her arm out of his grip. Her enhanced strength would have slingshotted a normal person into a wall. Styxx however remained unfazed, jolting slightly with the force of her tug but his feet remained planted. let GO. 

“No. Not until you calm down.” Her eyes are wild and he’s not surprised. None of the recruits are built to be lab rats- it’s part of the reason they were chosen to be here at all. He knows she wonders- all of the recruits do- why he and Nick and Isidora and the other tributes seem to not be alarmed by the the four walls of the cage they find themselves in. Pretty cages, with outdoor space and calming-colored walls and an ever-full lunchroom…. but cages all the same. The several layers of doors to the outside world don’t open unless you have the right retinal to scan, which none of them do. 

He knows Fox figured out the code that goes with the scanning process months ago, even before they had started getting augmented in small ways- better endurance, stronger muscles, better hearing and eyesight. 

They- those in charge- left their nerve endings in tact though, left the kids' bones brittle and fragile. Styxx (and he’s sure Nick and Isa) have heard horror stories, they know that those in charge will wait until the last second to change how much pain the young adults can take. 

They need to be able to inflict pain to keep them in line. 

Fox found the code, but for lack of plucking out someone’s eye, they had no way to use it. Not that that little piece of logic seemed able to stop Octavia as she struggled to get the last few paces to start beating on the door in an attempt to force it open. He knew it wouldn’t work- whoever built this prison knew the types of monsters they’d be creating in it- they wouldn’t leave vulnerabilites. “You are going to get yourself in trouble, do you hear me?” he hissed. “This isn’t like out there- here trouble isnt a slap on the wrist, its them digging into your head and your memories and figuring out what is going to break you apart the most. And then they do it.” He’s still holding her wrist, tightly enough that she’ll have a bruise for a few days, in the shape of his fingers. 

But better bruised by him than broken by them. 

I am getting the fuck OUT of here. 

He pulled her toward him, close enough that he could lower his voice, close enough that she was practically against his chest and his lips were almost touching her hair. He’s sure they have cameras or mics or something hidden in every crevice of every room and he doesn’t want them hearing. “You will. But you have to be patient, Octavia the Younger. You won’t get out by banging on doors. You get out by playing their rules, letting them sharpen you into a weapon, and letting them walk you right out the door. If you want to get out of here without being in a body bag, that is your only option, do you understand me?” He lets her go and she falls a step back away from him.

Tears brimmed over her lashes, longing to be back with her brother. they’re never going to let us leave, styxx. 

“They will.” There’s nothing but confidence in his tone and it seems to bolster her slightly. “When they’re satisfied.” He pins her with a look. “So show them your teeth, but don’t bite. Point your rage at whatever target they tell you. Play the game, and they’ll willingly let you out.” He doesn’t use the word ‘free’. It’s deliberate. They won’t be free, just out. Of course, if rumors are to be believed, Octavia would have the option to leave, to go off on her own and leave the others, but it will be so much harder for her then, once they’re interconnected, her and whatever unit she ends up in. 

He prays it’s his. She may die anywhere else. 

Her shoulders slump with resignation, and she nods, defeated. He feels his own muscles relaxing the slightest, not enough for a camera to notice. He’s about to speak when she glances up and before his eyes can follow hers, a thin, lithe figure drops from the ceiling at Styxx’s side, warm brown eyes looking to Octavia in disappointment and trust. 

so no escape then? Fox asks. 

Octavia shakes her head, looking to Styxx with the same trust Fox has in her. not yet. biding our time, i guess. 

Fox makes a show of sighing, then shrugs. fine. then i’m hungry. 

“We haven’t missed lunch yet, I’m sure Nicklas and Louis are waiting for you both.” The three turn to move further back into the facility, a large tanned hand on each girl’s back as though to herd them the way of safety. 

[goldenchildminmin]

❰❰ HAND KISS ❱❱ sender kisses receiver on the hand or wrist

Uncharacteristically quiet, Minho stared through the side window of Rankle’s car, watching the trees planted in neat rows on the side of the road pass them by. Every now and then, a soft rustle of fabric would fill the silence of the small space within the vehicle as the younger fae fussed over the way the collar of his suit fit around his neck, dressed in subdued dark tones because he wanted to appear serious and well put together, afraid that his flashiness may be too much for the old family they were on their way to visit and have a family dinner with. 

First official family meeting with the Harbingers, the matriarch and a few siblings attending along with a number of family friends from the fae world. Needless to say that Minho was inwardly terrified but he hid it well, the pressures of socializing not foreign to him. The pressure to perform well hanging over him like a guillotine blade. Already, his spine was so straight, his movements so calculated in preparation to be scrutinized by judging eyes trying to find a flaw in his etiquette. There mustn’t be a single crack of imperfection in the performance, not a single hair out of place, elegance and poise and charm honed to brilliance that dazzled. And underneath it, a desperate longing to be liked and loved, even just for the fake image of flawlessness he presented in order to satisfy and gain approval. 

He’d hardly noticed when they’ve finally arrived, the no less gorgeously dressed man next to him pulling the car to a careful stop where it was meant to park for the evening, until it was time to leave. Minho released a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, hearing rather than seeing Rankle leave the vehicle to go around it and open the door to Minho’s exit. A careful hand pushed in as soon as the door to the passenger seat were open, expectantly waiting to be accepted, so it could help the princely fae step out of the car. 

Minho took it, warm palm damp with nervous sweat against a cool one and he let himself be pulled out carefully to stand. But instead of being guided away from the vehicle and into the Harbinger home where the social event waited, he was halted by a pair of smoky dark eyes looking gently down upon him. For a moment, Minho broke the role carefully built to impress, perfectly plucked eyebrows twisting upward in a concerned expression. “Is there something wrong with how I look?” He asked, ready to duck back into the car and use a mirror in the sun shield above the passenger seat to double-check on his appearance.

Instead of an answer, he felt the man turn his hand until his palm faced upwards and soft lips kissed the pulse in his wrist, whispering against the rapid nervous pump of blood there. “You are perfection walking. But trust me when I say, they will love you much more for who you truly are than who you are trying to be.” Thumb smoothing over the heated spot he’d just kissed, Rankle looked up into those large doe eyes that now held a shine of teary adoration for the man in them. A rare smile carved out the curve of the older fae’s lips as he noticed Minho’s shoulder visibly relax, lowering down to their natural placement. “Ready?” Rankle asked and got an energetic nod in return, accompanied by gold-dusted blush and a wide smile, no longer hidden behind a perfect mask.

@ranklerainier

[undead-merman]

🧜‍♂️MerMay- The Brothers🧜‍♂️GN Reader- SFW

Lucifer

Appearance

Lucifer has a long black tail with a hint of a royal blue striping on the back. His scales are smooth and small, ganoid shaped and are completely flat. A few black scales are on his face, just at the corner of his eyes giving them a sharper appearance and forming a diamond shape on his forehead. There is one scale slightly out of place on his diamond mark; it's not noticeable unless seen close up.   

His fins are long and flowing and are in the shape of rounded spades. He has a tear on his dorsal fin which goes all the way through the fin and has a scar on his back. His caudal fin is the largest on his body and has a peacock like pattern that can be flushed making the colors go from the normally black with barely visible blue to bright flashy blues, and reds on deep blacks.

His human skin is colored like a great white shark: creamy light skin on his stomach, fading to grey on his back; granting him the ability to countershade and aid in avoiding detection from above and below.

His face exhibits many shark features: broad and round head, small eyes, his mouth is filled with large teeth, and a flat nose.

Daily life

He’s very broody so he prefers the twilight and night hours; being accustomed to swimming in the deep parts of the ocean, too much light hurts his eyes but he also just enjoys the dark endless water with starlight above.

He has a very strict schedule, patrolling his nest, fighting off intruders, meeting up with Diavolo to hunt, clean up his brother's messes, patrol, try to sleep and get interrupted by one of his brothers if not more, and repeat.

He’s a carnivore so he enjoys eating whales, and sharks. He dislikes crabs and lobsters since they’re bottom feeders and he finds the idea of eating them very distasteful. 

He’s meticulous with grooming himself. He’s always sharpening his claws and forever growing teeth, picking them and cleaning them until they gleam in the light and buffing his scales to make them shimmer. 

When alone he enjoys trying to nap amongst a peaceful patch of seagrass. Drifting away slowly as curious little fish swim around him and the plant life softly brushes by with the current. 

He enjoys playing the violin, which surprisingly works, making melodies that haunt divers unfortunate enough to hear.  

Life with you

If you're a morning person you’ll get to see his sleeping unguarded face. He’ll try to wake up with you once he realizes, and within a few weeks he’ll be waking up far before you. He somehow has a built-in clock wired to try and make him wake up before you.

If you're a night person he’s thrilled to share some of the prettiest sights the ocean has to offer when the moon is out. Showing you his favorite spots to enjoy the night in silence. 

He becomes very protective of you and constantly scents you before leaving your side. Rubbing his palms on your cheeks or circling his tail loosely around you before brushing up on you as he swims away. No one will dare come near you if you smell so much like him.

He hates to admit it but he has the natural instinct of him bringing shiny things to you. He won’t even notice it until he pulls your hands in his and suddenly you have a shiny piece of sea glass in your hand. His face heats up if you tease him about it and suddenly he finds a speck on the wall very interesting.

Mammon

Appearance

As golden as gold can look, being actual gold, Mammon has the boldest scales of all the brothers. He’s not sure why they are, they’ve just always been that way and their weight doesn’t seem to be affected. His scales are ctenoid and can cut if he flares his scales and hits you with his tail. He doesn’t have any scales on his face and his skin seems to glow in the morning sun. 

His fins are exactly like that of a long spined sea scorpion with them having large painful spines inside them. Unlike the other fish he has a painful venom that can leave someone reeling in pain for days. It won’t kill but it’ll hurt!

He has two sets of canines that are very noticeable when he opens his mouth to talk. His upper right canine tooth has a gold coating making the tooth look like it’s made of gold. The top pair always hang out of his mouth while the lower one is hidden. 

He has shorter nails more meant for prying than slashing. Though they’re surprisingly well manicured and painted white.

Daily life

100% a morning person. Wakes up all groggy but after brushing his scales he's peppy and ready to start the day.

Mammon hoards his shedded scales, after all they are gold. He puts them in an old vintage submariner foot locker, nearly rotted apart but he sticks random stickers or patches onto it to help keep it together. A lot of the time the brothers will just take the money they are owed from the chest and Mammon whines about it; however, if they're pissed they’ll pluck some scales from him painfully.

His scales get plucked often: by the sea witches to whom he owes a massive debt to, his angry brothers, even Solomon sometimes plucks them off like he’s a pez dispenser. Because of this he sometimes has very sensitive scaleless spots. They grow back within a day but it still hurts.

He joins Lucifer in patrolling their territory. He’s just as protective over his space as Lucifer is, and of course he wants to look out for his younger brothers, but he won’t admit that unless it gives him a chance to use pity points to get out of trouble.

Very particular about his scales. He wants them looking pretty and as bright as they can be. Contrarily, he doesn’t give the same treatment for his hair, calling running his hands through to get the tangles out good enough.

Life with you

If you show concern for his scales he’ll play it off like it doesn’t hurt and it's really just a bother, but it isn’t. If you continue to worry about him or even offer to help patch him up he will become much more protective of you. You treat him so kindly that he doesn’t want that to stop.

If he’s in a bad mood or he gets jealous of someone, he'll grab you and shove his face into your neck and twist till his face is thoroughly buried. He wants to smell you so he can calm down and basically scream at anyone who comes by that you are something very close to Mammon so don't you dare touch.

He’ll try to drag you around to join in his mischief. Joining him in gambling rings or minnow racing. He’ll insist you're a lucky charm, though he just likes your company. He loves to bear hug you if he wins big and he holds you above him in the water with a big smile on his face.

Another victim of random shiny gifts for you. He's more aware of it and brags about how neat it looks even if it's just some old mirror. He’s always trying to play up how amazing his little gifts are.

Leviathan 

Appearance

His tail is very long, much longer than his brothers though it's thinner and has less muscle. His scales are ganoid shaped and colored the same color as his hair with a white underneath. During the night he has bright cyan bioluminescence circles on his sides. His eyes and tongue glowing as well with a very faint glow to his teeth as well. 

He’s embarrassed about it but he has multiple random patches of scales around his face and he thinks it makes him look weird.

His fins are shaped much like a goldfish, even having a round double tail and flowing fins. He is the most delicate looking one. But if he gets angry he transforms into a gigantic sea monster and can cause storms. 

He’s an omnivore so his teeth are small and much like a humans. They fall out if they get damaged but like a shark they’ll always grow back.

His skin is also counter shaded like Lucifer. Though more ashy gray color than his older brother. Unfortunately his bioluminescent colored scales, even though they pulse in brightness, make him much easier to spot. 

Daily life

He’s a night dweller through and through and refuses to swim during daylight hours. He likes to dwell in deeper waters so the light isn’t too much for him; but he mostly likes to stay in his cave and obsess over his washed up anime knicknacks. Making sure to pluck away barnacles and clean the muck off.

Since he’s an omnivore he’ll eat whatever is nearby. He enjoys jellyfish and the deadlier they are to humans the more he likes them. He's unaffected by their venom. Though he’ll enjoy a crab or free swimming fish. 

Leviathan does not like patrolling; he’d much rather leave the scuffling to everyone else so he can focus on more important things, like trying to dry out a keyboard in his open air room. 

His room is open air and inside a cave that can be accessed by a nearby beach. Inside is a shrine to his collection and he’s always fawning over it.

He loves that he matches with his fish friend Henry. They are extremely similar in shape, even having similar tails. He has a fresh water tank inside so Henry doesn’t get too dried up from the salt water. Leviathan can handle both fresh and saltwater so sometimes he hops into the tank to swim near his friend.

He’s very self conscious of his scales, especially the ones on his face so he has to make sure they look nice. His hair has to be styled just right to distract them from his face. He has a habit of pulling his bangs down over his eyes when he’s flustered.  

Life with you

Once he’s bonded with you he is constantly by your side and wanting to spend as much quality time with you as he can. He’ll be trailing you talking about the little curiosities he’s found. He whines about how he wants to go back to his cave but he won’t leave your side.

He’ll show you his collection of nicknacks and if you're able to set up a little television and gamecube he’ll be ecstatically waving his fish tail around like a dog. He’ll constantly beg you to play with him. He wants to CO-OP this game with you!

If he’s feeling cuddly that day he’ll float up to the surface and let you lounge on him and let the waves gently rock you both. He’ll hum old sea shanties he’s heard from sailors long ago as well as some anime songs from a series you enjoy together. 

Expect him to drag you to his spots for finding his little curiosities, he’ll want you to help him scour the area and find more fun items. He’s very happy with whatever you bring and he’ll keep them around his nest.   

Satan 

Appearance 

Satan is built similarly to Lucifer though his scales are more raised and spiny. His tail is a bright shamrock green which shifts to a seafoam green. He has a bunch of scales on the corners of his mouth and completely covers his cheeks.

His fins are long and have a crowntail shape that are tipped a deep black. When he gets angry his fins flare up making him look much, much bigger.

He has a flatter nose and bigger teeth like Lucifer. While they aren’t as sharp they are still dangerous if he’s mad. 

His skin also glows in the bright morning sun and if he’s lounging around he’ll attract nearby small fish to swim around him enjoying the serene glow he has.   

Daily life

He takes a long time waking up, and he’s not a morning person at all. He’s dazed for an hour or so until he’s fully awake, though he’s not much of a night person, more preferring midday.  

He’s currently got the goal of piecing together the world’s true histories. Figuring out what happened to old forgotten cities, lost treasures, and destroyed civilizations. He has a long way to go and he treats this handcrafted book like a child, holding it far above the water.

He explores with random, yet reputable exploration teams. Helping them with identifying relics or gems. He’s earned a reputation for himself by doing this and is often approached to go on expeditions. 

He is another type to patrol around his territory. He does it around midday though and hunts during these. He’s a carnivore and likes tuna and other free swimming fish, but refuses to eat squid and octopi due to how smart they are. He likes to feed nearby ones. Though they aren’t as cute as human world cats.

He’ll go to a human world pier and try to attract the local stray cats with his tail. He’ll leave them little gifts so now all the local cats come to the docks at a certain time to wait for him. He really wants to have a cat but sadly it’s a love that’s not meant to be, they are from two different worlds.    

Life with you

He’ll enjoy taking you on expeditions. Showing you beautiful sunken landscapes very few eyes have seen before. He loves seeing your reactions to sights.

He enjoys learning your hobbies and trying them out with you. He’ll go out of his way to provide an accurate experience to what you're used to since he enjoys learning and experiencing new things, especially now that you're here.

He's another one that loves to rub his smell all over you. He’s just as bad as Mammon, his smell is all over every part he can get to and stinks of “back off, don’t touch” causing others to give you a wide berth.

He’s going to hang off of you every morning. If you're larger than him he shoves his face into your chest and tries to go back to sleep. He looks so different with his sleeping face, he looks peaceful in your arms. But if you're smaller he’ll flop onto you and try to use you as a pillow. He’s surprisingly warm and his underside isn’t as spiny and sharp.

He’ll want to introduce you to his octopi friends. Each one is named after a different sea or famous author. If you agree he’ll be delighted to take you there and let you play with them. Though he might get a bit jealous if you get along with them a bit too much. He won’t show his jealousy though.   

Asmodeus 

Appearance 

He’s the most serine and delicate looking of all his brothers. His thin body has a bright cherry blossom pink tail and has long silky looking fins. His bright scales sparkle and shimmer and have a pearlescence to them. He has perfectly pure white scales patches on his tail as well giving a koi pattern. 

He resembles a butterfly koi but with longer and frankly impractical looking fins. They flow around him weightless and they look like silk in the wind around him. Even his dorsal fin is long and flowing.

He doesn’t have any scales on his face and he looks perfectly human from the waist up. His skin has an angelic like glow and shimmers in the sun. He has a few freckles on his face, chest and elbows. 

He has small pearly white teeth just like a human would, he’s very keen on keeping them perfectly white, just like his white scales, but his canines can extend like a cat flexing their claws.  

Daily life

He wakes up to his internal alarm clock, which is scarily accurate. Bright eyed and bushy tailed from the moment his eyes open. Swimming around and preparing himself for another day, brushing his tail, combing his hair, and cleaning his teeth, all while chatting to whoever will listen.

He is a highly requested entertainer for festivals and celebrations. He’s invited to grand openings, large festivals, and even private birthdays to those who pay him well enough. His dances and singing is the best among his kind and can easily enrapture sailors let alone his own kind. His voice mixed with the way his fins trail behind him like long fans is an easy way to get hypnotized. 

When he’s not booked for a celebration he’s helping Diavolo keep humans away from their city. He uses his voice to entrance anyone he deems a threat and can make them turn and forget why they were out here and what they saw. He doesn’t get into any of the violent stuff. That’s not his style.

If he’s not at home, he is always with someone. He’s like a fairytale princess with a crowd behind him, be they other mers or fish schooling around him. He always has a smile on his face and he’s not very quiet about how much he enjoys attracting an adoring crowd. At home he enjoys a nice relaxing self care session.

When he’s angry his canines poke out he doesn’t notice this habit of his, but it's usually because he’s extremely angry at the time and holds himself back.

He doesn't bother with patrolling and he’s not territorial in the slightest. He’s a lover not a fighter so his big brothers can handle any scary monster.     

Life with you

He’s bringing you to all kinds of festivals and parties as his +1 every time. You’ll be able to experience all the wonders Diavolo’s kingdom has to give and he’s extremely happy to be there with you every single time.

He’ll use his charm to get you whatever you want. Did you want that cute seashell necklace? Or that shark tooth bracelet? He’ll approach the store owner, shake his tail and flirt a bit and it’s his now. Which he immediately hands to you with a huge grin on his face, telling you how well it suits you and how you make that item look even better.

He’s always trying to groom you in any sort of manner. Rubbing your scalp and smoothing your hair with his finger. Trying to rub thick creams into your skin, or rubbing pigment onto your nails to paint them. You're the only one he’ll do this for.

He needs to hold your hand at least 3 times a day and needs a kiss before he goes to sleep and he’ll break into your room if he doesn’t get them all. He’ll act all innocent but he knows exactly what he’s doing. He just likes being a brat so he can cuddle and love you.

He also gets upset if you smell like someone else so he randomly jumps you and cuddles you in his arms rubbing his cheek against yours and rubbing you with his tail and brushing all of his fins against you. If you check you can see his fangs sticking out when he’s jealous. 

If you’re ever feeling down he’ll sing for you. Dance with you, twirling you around as if he’s the moon and you're the earth itself. He gets lost in the dance and by the time you're done you're both embracing and laughing. 

Beelzebub and Belphegor

Appearance

While being twins they couldn’t be more polar opposites. Beelzebub has radiant skin that seems to glow even in the darker parts of the ocean and a long sunset orange tail full of powerful muscles and reaches the longest out of the brothers. His tail is smooth and has a cycloid scale pattern. Belphegor has the shark-like appearance some of his other brothers have. Counter shaded skin, flatter nose. But he seems to absorb the light around him making everything seem much darker than they really are. His tail is medium size and is pretty thin. His tail is a deep eggplant purple with black spots.

Both of them have matching fin shapes, their caudal fin being shaped like a swordtail guppy and the rest of their fins are wide and shaped like fans. Belphegor's fins are mostly black but with the same eggplant purple speckled in. Beelzebub’s are the same sunset orange.

Beelzebub’s face is free of scales but on the sides of his cheeks and around his jawline and down to his shoulders scales are clustered around. They are thick hardy scales making his neck his strongest area besides his tail, but he has a scar just under his chin.

Belphegor has a freckle-like pattern of small scales they scattered all around his face only one or two at a time. They’re much smaller than the ones on his tail.

Belphegor has extremely sharp teeth and while they’re small they’re serrated. Beelzebub has mostly human teeth, though his canines are much bigger and wider, he’s able to crush stones with those teeth.

Daily life

These two have been inseparable since they were young and it's a trend that is clearly there to stay. They may have a different schedule but when they go to rest they rest and sleep in the same nest. 

Beelzebub helps teach the younger mers to fight. He’s been permitted to teach not only the royal guard but other everyday mers. He’s a proud teacher and he’s always trying to come up with ways to help each student of his even on an individual level, but that’s when he’s not eating. 

He’s also the kingdom's best hunter, and a small team is sent out with him every once in a while to hunt down any monsters that come too close to their kingdom. Beelzebub ends up eating the thing before they get back though. The bigger and more ferocious they are, the better they taste. That’s what he says at least.   

Belphegor is the kingdom's most talented astrologist. Unlike his twin brother though, he doesn’t put his skills to much use. He’ll help, maybe, if he’s not tired or if he’s in a good mood, but those chances are slim to none. Instead he’s actually a doctor. 

He’ll laze around in his office and sleep on the table, but when a patient comes in he’s somehow able to look over them once and tell what’s wrong with them. Even his brother’s are confused how he can just wake up, take one look at someone and perfectly diagnose them. 

He also seems to nurse others on an auto pilot. He barely has his eyes open and is able to patch up any wound he can find. Because of his talent yet lack of effort he has earned some ire from his peers. He doesn’t care though as long as he can keep sleeping on the job.

Many other Mer’s have approached him in hopes to become his apprentice but he’s ignored every single one. He’s too lazy to even try. Which many people think is selfish since he’s so skilled. Though he doesn’t care what they say.    

Life with you 

You will always find them not too far from you. Once they grew attached to you they began not moving too far from you. Sometimes they even drag you along with them so you can be near them. Belphegor is guilty of dragging you to his workplace more than Beelzebub, sometimes trying to trick you into keeping everyone busy so he can nap.

Beelzebub just brings you so he can keep an eye on you and give you hugs when he’s feeling a bit stressed. You can tell when he’s getting stressed because the longer part of his tail fin flicks back and forth. If you end up hugging him right when he starts he’ll end up holding you until you ask him to let you go. It always makes him smile if you do that. 

They are both picky about having you sleep in their nest. Belphegor will complain and try to guilt you into their nest if you try to sleep anywhere else and Beelzebub will give you puppy dog eyes. They won’t stop until you agree, and they both coil around you when sleeping.

Beelzebub is very protective of you since he knows how monstrous things can be outside the kingdom so whenever he gets worried about you he pulls you by the hips closer to him. Belphegor simply just gets jealous of others talking to you and will rest his chin on your shoulder and stare at whoever is talking to you. 

If you let him, Beelzebub will groom you. Brushing your hair is a favorite of his. He likes playing with it. If you were to return the favor by polishing his scales or even playing with his hair too he gets left in a great mood for the rest of the day. The smile he gets never leaves his face. 

Belphegor when he’s feeling up to it will show you the stars at night. He’ll let you float on him or next to him and gaze at the bright night sky, untouched by light pollution or blocked by trees. Just the sounds of the open ocean and the two of you. Sometimes he’ll end up like an otter and fall asleep while holding your hand so you don’t float away.  

[delimeful]

Helpless (2)

the next chapter in the drider virgil fic!

warnings: spiders, slight dehumanizing language, assumptions/jumping to conclusions

-

Logan was certain that he’d tracked down his quarry.

Of course, he’d also been certain the last two times he’d found promising evidence around a swath of woods, but this time was different.

He had learned plenty while traversing through the varied lands of his kingdom, and while physical evidence was ideal, word of mouth was one of the most useful tools a researcher could use to find leads.

That was part of the reason why he’d been so careful to observe typical travelers for weeks before his departure, the reason he was wearing worn, cheap fabric and staying at the second-cheapest room at this town’s inn, despite having plenty of money still hidden on his person. He didn’t want a single rumor about a suspiciously rich noble traveling alone.

The last thing he needed was for his investigative journey to be interrupted by bandits, or worse, would-be do-gooders attempting to return the missing prince to his place in line for the throne.

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the very thought, putting aside the last half of his travel rations and stopping at the edge of town to stare into the woods beyond. He checked his compass habitually, and he was pointed firmly westward, exactly towards the point of the woods that were occupied by a dangerous monster, according to the barkeep that Logan had plied for information last night at supper.

The whole town knew of it, even the younger residents, which was a point in favor of the creature really existing rather than just being another folk tale.

There was one other potential source on the creature, a town outcast going by the way others’ noses wrinkled at the mention of him, but Logan was more than ready to begin investigating for himself, and the odds that the outcast actually knew anything were low, anyhow.

Decided, he headed into the forest, prepared for the day-long trek that was sure to follow. If he was prone to less scientific notations, he might have jotted down that he had a good feeling about this particular town.

Exactly an hour and a half later, Logan had found himself almost entirely immobilized by layers and layers of gossamer threads strewn about the trees.

Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

Even the foolish manner in which he’d landed himself stuck in such an obvious trap couldn’t dampen his spirits, not when faced with undeniable proof that there was in fact a drider in these woods. He’d been too hasty in his attempt to collect some of the biological material, and by yanking too hard, had ended up pulled forwards into the thick of the intricate spider web.

His immobility was a bit concerning, but mostly frustrating, since he couldn’t reach for his journal to note down the surprising level of the webbing’s tensile strength. Still, proper scientists had to be prepared to hold onto their observations for as long as it took for them to be able to write them down.

Besides, he could hardly complain. His current predicament practically guaranteed that he would actually get to see the creature!

-

There was a person stuck in his webs, and Virgil was freaking out about it.

It had never happened before. Virgil very specifically made the webs closer to town thick and opaque so that any passerby would see them and avoid this exact situation.

Virgil peered around the cluster of bushes he had half-flattened himself behind. The stranger didn’t seem too panicked, at least, going by the way that the web barely swayed with his presence. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, which was… admittedly sort of strange.

Skies above, what if this was a trap? Virgil turned his head sharply to scan his surroundings, wary of human hunters suddenly popping out of the undergrowth.

Several moments of silence, and even with all his senses pushed to their farthest, he couldn’t detect anything. It seemed the only one trapped here was the human.

A pang of guilt curled unpleasantly in his first stomach. He grimaced, wishing desperately that Patton was here to mitigate the utter terror Virgil was surely about to inflict on this guy.

No point in drawing it out. He rose up to his full height, grateful that the human had gotten stuck facing the opposite direction, and quietly crept up behind him. All he needed to do was announce his presence and let the human know he wasn’t going to hurt them, but he was immediately distracted at the sight of just how tangled his webs had grown.

“How does one human manage to touch every single support thread at the same time?” he asked, voice incredulous.

The human stiffened, and he couldn’t help but tense in response, cursing his big mouth.

… Really though, he spent hours crafting these, and now this one would have to be completely reconstructed!

“Are you the monster spoken of in town?”

The measured voice snapped Virgil out of his thoughts as easy as a clap of thunder, and he shuffled a bit from side to side nervously. His many steps must have been louder than he’d thought, because the human immediately attempted to twist around and see him.

He failed, naturally, because Virgil’s threads weren’t exactly easy to wriggle free of, but Virgil’s nerves only grew. “I… why do you ask?”

There was a short silence, and then, “Considering my current situation, it’s only natural I would want to know, isn’t it?”

Virgil resisted the urge to wince at his own dumbassery. “Right. Well. Yeah,” he confirmed, already bracing for the fear that nearly every human bore when confronted with him. Even Patton had been afraid at first, though Virgil really thought him braver than any other human, to be so terrified of even normal spiders and befriend a Drider of all creatures.

“Oh, excellent,” the human said with clear excitement. “Would you mind coming around so that I can see you?”

Virgil blinked, befuddled. The last thing most humans wanted was for him to come closer. Maybe it was the natural fear of him being in their blind spot? The guy certainly didn’t sound very afraid, even with Virgil’s less-than-stellar first impression.

“Do you have a weapon?” he asked warily.

“I have a knife,” the stranger offered, “but I can’t exactly reach it at the moment.”

Virgil could see the glint of it, caught bladefirst at the very edge of a web as though it had been used on the threads themselves. He slowly circled around the clearing, watching the stranger closely for any sudden movements, until he stood before him, all eight legs and thorax visible.

“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyes blown wide as they skittered from point to point as though noticing every little detail. Virgil would have thought him afraid had it not been for the prideful little grin that sat on his face. “I thought maybe you were lying to me-- I hadn’t expected you to be so fluent in the common language, living in the woods and all-- but wow!”

Virgil felt his front legs rising up a little bit in an automatic defense against the unexpected reaction. He ran his tongue over his fangs nervously, trying to figure out whether or not he should be insulted about the language thing. And what exactly did this guy mean by ‘expected’?

The stranger’s hands twitched slightly, still stuck firmly in place, and irritation briefly flitted across his face as though he’d forgotten his position. He blinked, as though remembering something.

“Oh, right. Are you planning on trying to consume me, then?” he asked, the question as politely curious as an inquiry about the weather.

Virgil recoiled physically at the idea, skittering back a few strides and baring his fangs despite the difference in size and strength and trapped-ness between the two of them. “What? No!”

The stranger managed to drag his intrigued gaze away from Virgil’s fangs, his hands twitching again almost subconsciously. “In that case, would you mind helping me down? My leg has begun to go numb, and I really would like access to my journal.”

“I-- I mean, yeah, if you aren’t-- I can--,” Virgil stumbled over his words, drawing closer with his body lowered non-threateningly and waiting for the inevitable flinch or shiver of disgust.

It never came. The stranger continued to stare at him with no trace of terror in his eyes, even as Virgil grew close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Take your time,” he offered, despite being the one trapped in a monster’s web. Virgil abruptly felt a bit silly about his obvious wariness, and lifted his front legs to rub them together at the ankles. The stranger’s head tilted to the side slightly, watching the gesture intently.

“... It’s the oils that make the webs not stick,” Virgil explained. “I produce it naturally on my feet so I don’t get, y’know, stuck. I’ll have to touch the webs that are attached to you. With my feet. The spider ones.”

Virgil didn’t have any other kinds of feet, but the stranger graciously didn’t nitpick.

“A built-in solvent… I wonder if natural spiders have similar traits,” he mused instead, and then, “Do whatever you need, I don’t mind. The opposite, really, I appreciate the assistance.”

Sure enough, he didn’t shy away when Virgil began carefully plucking at the threads entangling him, sliding the sides of his legs along them to coat them in the anti-stick oils. Bit by bit, the entanglement loosened, and Virgil had just freed both arms when the human abruptly twisted around to reach for something on his person.

Of course, now that much of the webbing holding him in midair had been removed, his weight was significantly less supported. A few threads snapped, and he dropped a few inches with a startled yelp. If he continued, he’d be in for either a rough fall or getting caught in a whole new layer of webbing, and Virgil wanted neither of those things.

He quickly reached forwards with his human arms and lifted the stranger up and away from further entanglement, batting away any stray threads with his front legs. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to check if it was a weapon that the human had reached for. Even more belatedly, he realized that this was the second human he’d picked up in this impromptu carry.

Weird that it had happened twice.

“Perfect, thank you,” the guy said, and then he started writing furiously in a little book, occasionally glancing up at Virgil and locking onto a feature before returning to writing. It was as though he didn’t mind at all being held aloft like a human might lift up a misbehaving cat.

Virgil took the opportunity to continue cleaning any web remnants off the guy while he was distracted, his mind whirring. A stranger who had clearly never done a day of hard labor in his life, who didn’t seem at all afraid of him, and was taking notes.

... Oh, shit.

Virgil set him carefully on the ground while he was still preoccupied with scrawling out a label for a diagram of Virgil’s teeth. He backed up, softening his steps, and by the time the stranger pulled his attention away from his book, Virgil was already well out of sight and planned to keep it that way, regardless of the confused little call the stranger made.

He was not messing with what was clearly a mage out for his parts.

[the-dream-team]

Chlorine

A fluffy little one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week two prompt: swimming with friends // Today we're younger than we're ever gonna be <3

“What in Merlin’s name is that smell?” gagged Sirius, bringing his towel up to cover his nose.

Mary swotted him with a bright green foam noodle. “That’s just the chlorine, you knob. It’s a chemical Muggles use to keep the water clean.”

“The water’s not clean?” squeaked Peter, his beady eyes widening.

“Take a look around Pettigrew,” laughed Mary, gesturing wildly. “There are about a trillion little kids running around with saggy trunks and juice-stained mouths, it’s not exactly the Prefect’s bathroom here.”

The group of teenagers took a moment to survey their surroundings. Sirius was right, the thick summer air reeked of chlorine wafting from unnaturally electric blue swimming pools, packed with screaming children, brightly colored floaties, and haggard parents. Behind the main pool, reaching up to the sky, stood two impressive slides, winding and bending in every direction before opening up into a smaller basin. Once every minute, the slide discarded a new, squealing child into the water with an eruptive splash.

Lily eyed the Muggle kids with some trepidation. “Are we too old to be here?” she asked, eyes shifting as she clutched her copy of Herbology for Potioneers a little closer to her chest. “It feels like everyone else is about a decade younger than us.”

“Don’t worry too much about that, Evans,” said James, a bright smile aimed in her direction. “Today we’re younger than we’re ever going to be, anyway!” He nudged her affectionately, resulting in a rosy hue that spread across her cheeks as their bare shoulders made contact.

“Alright,” announced Remus after barely dodging a rogue beach ball, “let’s find a place to put our towels before these buggers realize we’re easy targets.”

They managed to snag a row of plastic lounge chairs beside the wave pool to dump their belongings on before Sirius set his sights on the towering waterslides across the park.

“You said these slides were crazy fast, right MacDonald?” Sirius asked, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“They’re the fastest in Britain,” grinned Mary, tossing her sunnies aside. “And you get some serious air on your way out, it’s the closest thing Muggles have to flying, I’d argue.”

Lily tensed and quickly diverted her attention to her book, though her eyes remained still as she stared at the pages. Almost no one noticed her sudden discomfort.

“That’s bloody brilliant,” grinned Sirius. “Last one to the top has to buy us a round of those mushie drinks.”

“They’re called slushies, Padfoot.”

“Call them whatever you want, Moony, but I want a blue one.” Sirius discarded his t-shirt onto a chair and kicked off his sandals in preperation. “Prongs, do you think we could convince the lifeguards to let us go down the slides together?”

But James wasn’t paying attention to Sirius. “Nah, go ahead without me,” he said, eyes trained on Lily as she continued intently staring at her book. “I think I’m gonna start out a little slower with the lazy river. Evans, care to keep me company?”

Lily’s eyes snapped up to see Sirius’ dropped jaw, Mary’s raised eyebrows, and James’ steady smile.

“Oh,” she said, her voice finding a higher octave than usual, “sure, I could join you.”

“Fine,” grumbled Sirius, pulling the others along with him, “but I’m coming to find you at that dopey river after our first round on the slides. I won’t let you be boring all day, Prongs.”

James shrugged, barely paying the others any mind as he extended a hand to Lily. She watched their friends saunter off before accepting his help to stand up.

“Hold on there, Evans,” said James, plucking her book from her hands and tossing it back onto their pile of towels, “I can’t have you doing homework; today is all about having fun!”

“Then why aren’t you going with the others to the slides?”

He paused, considering her question with a smile. “Because you’re way more fun than a couple of waterslides.”

Before she had a chance to respond, James pulled her away from the chairs and towards the center of the park, their bare feet slapping against sizzling cement as they navigated around young children and indifferent lifeguards.

The lazy river lived directly across from the concession stand, perfectly situated for parents who wanted to keep an eye on their floating kids while they enjoyed a cool beer and a basket of hot chips. The river wound itself around an impressive structure resembling a fairytale castle, complete with canons that sprayed water onto passerbys and waterfalls that poured over plastered mountainsides and into its surrounding moat.

At the water’s edge sat a pile of tubes, growing hot under the unrelenting midday sun. James released Lily’s hand to secure them two floats, missing her subtle disappointed huff at the loss of his grip when he turned his back on her. But by the time he handed over her tube, she’d managed to rearrange her face into a neutral smile.

“After you, Evans,” he said with a little bow, extending an arm towards the gently rolling river.

She rolled her eyes at the exaggerated chivalry, but stepped forward nonetheless, carefully placing her tube in the water and lowering herself into the center. The water, cool and refreshing, lapped against her backside and kissed her heels as she hung her legs over the tempered rubber.

James took a different approach, choosing to throw his own tube unceremoniously into the water before giving himself a running start to cannonball onto it. Lily screeched as he nearly jumped directly on top of her.

“You prat!” she laughed, splashing water on his face, covering his glasses in little droplets.

“You know you love me,” he teased, a glint in his eye.

The pink glow that spread across her cheeks could have passed as a light sunburn, but the way James’ eyes flashed suggested he’d picked up on the truth. His dimples appeared despite the attempt to keep his grin at bay.

“So, Potter,” she started, choosing to change the subject, “what drew you to the lazy river, other than the obvious similarities you share?”

James drove an imaginary dagger into his chest. “You wound me, Evans! But if you must know, I thought it’d be the perfect place to chat with you.”

If the river’s current hadn’t continued pulling them along, Lily might have thought time had stood still. “To chat?”

“Yeah,” he responded as though it were obvious, “the playground would be too noisy with all the kids running around, it seems like we would’ve spent more time underwater than above it at the wave pool, and the hot tubs are simply not weather appropriate.”

“With me?”

It was finally James’ turn to look surprised. “Of course! I’ve spent my whole summer mucking about with the boys, but I’ve hardly seen you since Peter’s party and I missed talking with you.”

Lily tried passing off her pleased burst of laughter as a scoff. “I always forget how forthright you are.”

“I’m an open book,” he replied, sticking her with a pointed stare she couldn’t see as she averted her own gaze, attempting to hide her growing blush he had already clocked.

“I wish I could be more like that,” she spoke to the distance, to the cloudless expanse of sky, hoping it would relay the message to the boy whose intertube continued bouncing rhythmically against her own as they traveled in endless circles.

“As a kid,” she continued, “I loved playgrounds. Gravity melted away when I sailed off swings and soared through slides, when my magic took over before I even knew what I was. But the uncontrollable flying always scared my parents, so when my family visited parks, I’d be kept on the sidelines, hidden away to avoid causing a scene. I guess I got pretty good at hiding.”

“Do you want help practicing?”

Lily jerked her attention back to James and his easy eyes, his ruffled hair. “What?”

“Do you want help practicing being an open book?” he repeated simply. “I happen to be an expert and I’d be happy to lend my talents.”

His cheeky grin earned him a light splashing and an only-slightly-exasperated huff. “You know what, fine. Teach me your ways, Potter.”

“Alright,” he said, eyes brightening as he adjusted his position on his tube to face her more fully, “we’ll start with easy questions and then get gradually harder from there. The only rule is that you have to answer honestly.”

Lily sunk slightly into the hole of her intertube, but nodded, resting her chin on her folded arms, fingers mindlessly dipping in and out of the passing water below.

“First off, who is your best friend?”

“That’s your easy question?” Lily guffawed.

“What?” asked James, watching her curiously. “I already know the basics. Your favourite colour is forest green, you like chocolate biscuits best, and your sister is a piece of work. Now, who is your best friend?”

“Mary, I guess?” said Lily, brows furrowed slightly. “We immediately clicked since we first met, what with us both being Muggleborn, and after Sev was out of the picture…”

“I’m familiar with this part,” James grimaced, his focus shifting to his fingernails. “So, next question. If you had to be sorted into a different house, which one would you choose?”

“Hufflepuff,” she responded without blinking. “Closest to the kitchens, obviously. Next question.”

“Respectable,” he chuckled. “How about… do you prefer Butterbeer or Firewhiskey?”

She paused, catching his eye for longer than she’d planned. “You probably already know the answer.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards with a jolt of hope. “Butterbeer spiked with Firewhiskey?”

“Butterbeer spiked with Firewhiskey.”

James leaned forward slightly, his arm extending absentmindedly to reach for the cloth handles on Lily’s tube to pull her closer. “Like the ones we made at Peter’s birthday party last month?”

Their hands mingled together in the water between their tubes, pruned fingers brushing against each other as the current pushed them together. “Exactly like the ones from Peter’s birthday.”

He was near enough to count every sunkissed freckle spattered across her nose. She could practically fall into his growing dimples.

“Oi, Prongs!” came the disappointing voice of Sirius Black from the concession stand’s picnic tables. “You can’t hide from us all day, mate!”

“Maybe not,” James called back, a lopsided smirk sliding across his face, “but I can try!”

Before Sirius had a chance to respond, James sunk through the center of his intertube and disappeared under the water’s surface. Lily peered into the river, wondering if he could have possibly brought his Invisibility Cloak with him to the park, but her thoughts were quickly interrupted when a hand grabbed her ankle under the water. It tugged lightly, willing her out of her tube and into the depths of the lazy river.

Once fully submerged in the water, Lily squinted her eyes open to see her new surroundings, blue like the sky with ripples of sunlight refracting through the flowing stream, circular shadows overhead from the tubes they left on the surface, roaming away like drifting clouds searching for different horizons. A hand found her arm and spun her around, bringing her face to face with James, his glasses attempting an escape into the river’s flow, tiny air bubbles escaping through his nose and growing smile.

He pulled her across the width of the river, through a shower of bubbles from the underside of a waterfall, and into still water again before finally leading them both to the surface. They broke back into the world with gasping breaths and laughter, finding themselves in a dark, quiet alcove behind one of the castle’s waterfall features. The lazy river continued on as they stood together in their hidden cave, separated only by a wall of tumbling water. Despite no longer being pulled by the river’s current, the two found themselves drifting closer and closer to one another.

“Do you have any more questions?” asked Lily, her whisper echoing around and joining in with the soft roar of the waterfall.

James tried to control the beating of his heart, which must have been reverberating all around their little retreat based on how loudly he heard it pounding in his ears.

He cleared his throat. “Did you want me to kiss you that night at Peter’s party?”

She inhaled sharply. “Yes. Next question.”

“Do you want me to kiss you now?”

“Yes.”

She barely got the word out before James’ lips found hers, crashing down like a wave against the shore, pulling them into a riptide of racing hearts, fluttering eyelashes, and sighing breaths. They kissed and kissed and kissed until their heads spun, either drunk off the thrill of new beginnings or thoughts of Firewhiskey-spiked Butterbeer. Or possibly it was the intoxicating combination of magic mixed with chlorine.

[burnedbyshoto]

caught

— You’re caught in a web after flying a little bit too recklessly and along comes your one and only savior who requests a little help from you too as the price of freeing you.

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pairing: naga!kirishima eijirou x fem fairy!reader

warnings: fairy!reader, naga!kirishima, smut, 18+, coercion, dubcon, hypnotism, oviposition, double penetration, begging, heat/rut, size diff

word count: 4,004

a/n: BAHAHA I wrote this in like 3 hours because I decided to instead watch some soul eater last night & I like it so far! ah, well, ive never actually read naga fics before, or oviposition,,, so fair warning, enjoy! also, read the damn warnings.

kinktober day 7 main kink: size difference

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The world was a magical one. 

The planet was crawling with mythological creatures steaming from the smallest of pixies to the largest Kraken. The world was full of mystery, wonder, and adventure. Fire breathing dragons and cursed powerful swords were hidden away from the few humans and elves to discover. As in any civilization, there were those who got along and those who didn’t.

Some species of creatures got along with everyone, there were others that were feared beyond reason, and a few that were loved for moments and feared for others. 

You were a fairy.

And you were tiny.

Standing no more than three apples high, you had iridescent wings that curled and shone in the glimmering light whenever you so much as moved. You were a good fairy, you always have been. You were often found assisting with a multitude of mythical creatures and humans on quests and as companions. Despite your small stature, you were fast, zipping, and gliding faster than most could ever dare to catch up with.

You loved your wings, loved flying, loved having the wind whistling through your ears while you dove between branches and branches, laughing while your pixie friends failed to keep up with you. Your mother had always fluttered her wings in annoyance and partial anger when you were younger and would often outspeed her, leaving her screaming your name while she desperately tried to keep up.

What could you say? You were a daring fairy, an adventurous one at that too.

But she always warned you, even back then, of the dangers of being a small, tiny, pretty fairy who flew at speeds much faster than you should be capable of.

The wind whipped against your face, stinging at your nose, chapping your lips, and whooshing through your ears as you grew faster and faster. The traces of magic falling from your wings creating a beautiful, sparkling trail behind you as you whooped out in excitement and thrill. 

“Slow down, y/n!” your friends screamed from what sounded like many trees behind you, and like the daring showoff you were, you cork spiraled around a set of hanging branches with a loud laugh.

But as you straightened out, ready to move onward, you realized that something, thick, heavy, and sticky had caught onto the tip of your wing, and you catapulted backward. 

A spider’s web.

Even in a world of fantasy and mystery, spiders existed to catch flying pests, and to some, you were just that.

Panic consumed you, white fire coursing through every magical vein in your body as you thrashed and shook in the webs. Your hands grabbed onto the sticky strands around your wings, a desperate attempt to free yourself only to find yourself even more tightly wound up in the damp, near-transparent threads. 

A pathetic whimper left your mouth, your head dropping to your chest as silent, hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Your wings fluttered weakly, looking nothing too far from the insects and flies you were so used to seeing caught up in these webs. You strained your ears, trying to listen to the few pixies you had been flying and playing with, but even with your immense speed advantageous over them, you knew that they should be near.

But nothing.

You sat there on the web for minutes that seemed to bleed into hours, silently waiting for your friends to come and save you… but it seemed for naught.

…

…

…

“Help…”

“Help…”

“Please help…”

You had been trapped for hours.

Each passing second both dooming you to a life as spider food for the Arachne that had still yet to return home. Or maybe possibly a snack for any large creature that may pass, or an undeserving elf or human plucking you free and demanding to use their powers on a quest you would never approve of. That, or maybe you’d die of hunger.

There was no stopping the growl in your stomach or the parched dryness of your throat for your desperate, pathetic cry of help.

But it seemed that when your friends not-your-friends anymore said this part of the forest was for the most part void of all pixie and fairy eating creatures, it seemed that it was just void of all creatures. Pouting, you felt another rush of frustrating tears well up in your eyes, your cheeks huffing and face steaming as soft chimes of bells erupted from you while you seemingly threw a temper tantrum, not one-second closer from freedom.

Your breathing turned sharper, heavier, and overall shallow. In a flash of fury, you thrummed your wings as fast as you could, trying your best to fly out of this entrapment. To your slight excitement, you managed to loosen the webs around your wings for just a moment, your smile bursting oh so prematurely onto your face before it all went wrong again. As if the web was alive as well, it seemed to suddenly stiffen and drag you back into its sticky confines only for you to be even more trapped onto the mass web.

Like a broken dam, the tears streaming down your face were stinging, plentiful, and unable to stop.

You mourned the end of your life like this, so pathetic, so absolutely stupid way to go: caught on a spiderweb.

“Now, now, little one, why are you crying?” came a voice so soft yet incredibly loud voice, and you stiffened straight despite having a potential savior. 

You couldn’t see them, and with how the web was wrapped around you, you couldn’t even dare to turn your head around to stare at them. You couldn’t look at him, sure, but you knew just through the tenor and low thunder of his voice that your potential savior or wolf in sheep’s clothing was undoubtedly a robust, powerful mythological creature. 

Despite the way his voice seemed to whisper in your ears, you heard the familiar noise of someone moving through the grounds of the forest. The fallen dead leaves that scattered on the floor crackling with his movement. You trembled although you didn’t make a noise, not even a small bell chime of your wings. 

“Are you in need of assistance, little one?” he continued to ponder as if blind to the was you oh so very not discreetly clammed up at the sudden sound of his voice. “If you so require it, I would be more than willing to assist you in your freedom. It pains me to see such a beautiful, full of potential little fairy go to waste.”

The tongue in your mouth felt pathetically dry, your chest rising and collapsing at incredible speeds for someone of your composition of size.

“Oh, are you fearful of me, little one?” he seemed to laugh, finding your fear to be humorous, comical, really. “Most individuals at least wait until they peer into my eyes to find themselves unwilling to move or speak.”

The web shook with the vibrations of his voice. And you whined at the back of your throat as that small fact merely confirmed the size of the male creature standing behind you. You found yourself fearful of that playful tone on his voice, but you also knew that as a tiny fairy, you were quite foolish in fear when found in predicaments such as this one. You had to trust the creature behind you should you wish to escape.

“W-Would you mind freeing me?” you asked, making an attempt to sound powerful and in control despite the tremor on your lower lip and the way your voice was near childish in comparison to his own. How you actually thought fairies sounded on the same pitch as to many creatures before was beyond you, for at the moment, you deemed yourself to be no greater than a child speaking to an old man. “I was trapped while racing, and well, these frisky spiderwebs are quite the worst at capturing things that don’t deserve to be captured.”

Oh? Is that so?” his voice chuckled. His body, without a doubt, moments from yours if the way the gentle breath of his laugh brushed against your neck had anything to say about it. “I’ve always been told that they’re especially good at capturing pests.”

You flustered. 

“Yet here we are!” you pathetically countered, your wings fluttering in your distress. “If you wouldn’t mind freeing me, I would greatly appreciate it!”

“But, of course,” he spoke with great pride, and you shuddered when warm, large finger seemed to easily scoop you out from the webs. Your wings fluttered when the tight restraints of the traps were done, but not entirely freed from your beautiful wings. “Relax your wings, little one, I know you’re antsy to move, but there are still a great number of leftover webs on those wings of yours. Relax, I promise you no harm as I take these webs off.”

You shivered as his warm, strong fingers worked the plenty of sticky strands of webs off of you as if they were nothing but flyaway thread used for clothing. Speaking of clothing, you peered down at the daisy and red dandelion seed dress you wore, your eyes wide with the hope that it hadn’t been ruined. You loved this outfit. But as you peered down at your cotton shoes, you froze when you finally took in the hand you were resting upon. 

It was huge.

Without a doubt, his palm was the size of your entire body, the fingers long and thick with intimidating claws that demanded a bit of concern.

“There, all done,” he hummed, and you shook your wings, looking at the thing iridescent wings that made you a fairy, and you felt him turn his hand around where you rested. Your eyes, already wide with the looming dread in your stomach, seemed to become saucers the size of the moon when you came face to face with a naga.

Nagas, half-snake half-human, were a few creatures in this world that were both loved and hated by others — your kind included.

His scales were black, glinting red under the setting copper sun, and he was absolutely massive. You had seen nagas only a handful of times, three to be honest, but each other those times, you knew that they were hardly more massive than humans. But this male naga before you was enormous as he was solid. Rippling muscles on every exposed part of his human body and his snake bottom were large, thick, full of rippling coiling muscles that could probably strangle anyone who attempted to fight him. He had full, spikey red hair, scars on his arms, and one splitting his eyebrow. His red, slitted eyes seemed vast, cunning, and terrifying while he lifted you up to eye level. And his smile, oh his smile. Jagged, sharp teeth with lips pulled into a cunning, just a bit too sweet smile.

Naga, for the most part, were peaceful creatures. They were strong fighters, fierce protectors, all due to the fact that they were just so much larger than their co-inhabititors of the world, but they were peaceful. They slithered about most of the year, helping those who came and went, but there were moments in the year where they were of concern.

During the late spring, early summer, they were hit with their heats and ruts. Powerful naga soon filled with the lusting, overwhelming desire to shove their fertile eggs into anything that would hold them. Nagas, who mated with nagas, were known to have wrestled as their mating dance, almost wiping out many towns in their horny, hot desires, and you froze suddenly feeling the thick waves of heat coming off the naga before you.

“W-Well, thank you!” you stammered, your body bowing lowly for the naga before you whose splitting smile was becoming stamped in your brain. “I appreciate you freeing me, but I must go now. Supper is waiting for me!”

“What’s your name, little one?” the naga instead asked, his clawed finger caressing your cheek so softly, so accurately, you nearly thought he was set on taking off your head. “I would like to know the name of the beautiful fairy I saved today.”

There was power in knowing names in this world, fairy names especially, so you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach on account to this, or the way fear stimulated every cell in your body. 

“I-I can’t um, I can’t tell you,” you whimpered when his thick, large finger hooked underneath your chin to raise your head.

“Ah, it’s okay, little one, I promise I won’t do you wrong,” he promised, the lure in his voice — an advantage that nagas held in their times of heat. His voice was a warm blanket, smoothly pulling your eyes closed, making your wings flutter in your lulling excitement. “You can trust me.”

“Trust… you?” you spoke, mimicking his words, feeling like you were swimming in a warm, gooey honey trap. You bit down on your lower lip, heat rushing to your face as you stared upon his still cunning, sly grin as he traced his massive finger down from your wet, pouty lower lip to your hip. “I don’t… I can’t stay for longer?”

“Is that a question on your tone, little one?” he asked, his forked tongue flicking through his pointed teeth. “Can’t you stay? I have a favor to ask of you.”

A heavy, pitchy moan broke through your mouth as the tip of his claw dragged from your navel to your suddenly blistering core. Were you always this wet? How did you get so wet?

“But I…” you struggled to think, your eyes shut tightly, face twisting as you tried to figure out where you were needed right now. “I need to go… somewhere?”

“Somewhere?” he asked, voice light, buttery smooth. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I… was?”

“Yes, little one, look at me,” he kissed the air, and you found your eyes pressing open, your jaw dropping when his piercing red eyes hypnotizing you. “Open those pretty little legs for me, I want to see if you’re fit enough to be my dam, my mate.”

Why that sent bubbling gasps from your tongue and sent your legs apart was beyond you, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He had called you his mate… his dam.

His finger shoved between your legs, gently rubbing the massive finger that was probably nearly your height between your legs, catching onto your clit, sending resonating, shaking mewls from your throat. You collapsed forward, hips rutting back against his finger, your tiny fingers holding onto his knuckles, your eyes fluttering in this euphoria.

It felt so good.

So good, so good, “please more!”

You sobbed at the feeling of his finger coming up to allow more friction between you and your throbbing cunt, the bone of his knuckle-dragging so deliciously, so roughly against your throbbing clit that you started to feel weak in your knees.

“Call me Kirishima,” he growled, his finger flipping underneath you so that the pad of his finger could now press onto your clit, gathering your dripping slick as he does so. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Ei,” you spluttered, eyes barely open to watch the way his slitted pupils were dilated with his lust, the smell he was emitting without a doubt one of an alpha male plunging further within his rut. “This feels so good, please give meeeEE ahhh, oh god, give me more!”

Kirishima growled out a peal of chilling laughter, one that had your wings fluttering in their heavy, lucid attempt to fly and kiss the man that could swallow your entire body as if you were nothing more than a potato chip to him. You keened, one of your hands shakily removing themselves from his finger, stretching out to him.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” you beg, your heaving breathes almost in synch with your wildly bucking hips.

“You want a kiss?” he hummed, bringing your tiny body close enough to tease you, but not near enough for you to plant a desperate, small kiss to his smooth, curling large lips. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” you promised, watching as his forked tongue flashed between his teeth, his eyes flashing with his shaking control on the situation. Your cheeks scorched at the sight of him wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. The dam in you jittering at the knowledge that he was a good mate, a good person by holding back, trying to keep his control before giving in. But you wanted him as deep as you were. You wanted to feel his finger intruding your clenching, spasming walls, to try and take on his undoubtedly huge cock.

You wanted to try it.

You wanted him.

“Anything you want, I will give you!” you shriek with promise, your clit feeling numb from the overstimulation and lack of release as you could not reach it without penetration. 

“Your name,” Kirishima growled, his lips dangerously close. “And promise to carry my — our children.”

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” you frantically claim, knowing you would do it all just for his lips against yours, and finally, he was close enough, his bottom lip nearly the size of your entire face as you kissed him again and again.

His lips were pursed, allowing your frantic kisses to have lain all over his awaiting soft lips. You shuddered at the electric sensation coursing through you with every second, and your wings fluttered in your excitement, bringing you up into the air, lifting you off his palm.

“Your name?” he commanded, the hand you abandoned running a taloned finger down the spine of your back, pleasantly, orgasmically feeling as he reached the spot between your sensitive wings. You loved the feeling and keened against his mouth. 

“Y/l/n y/n!”

“And you will have my children?”

“Yes!”

A possessive, all encompassing cross between a growl and a hiss slipped through his lips, and you looked down with your lust dipped eyes to see the two, twisted cocks he was rutting into his free hand. You cried at the fact that it wasn’t your cunt the sharp, near hook looking tip of his cock wasn’t ramming into. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Kirishima snarked, his eyes bright and humorous as he caught you by your wings. You moaned loudly at the lusting pull of your wings that you could feel pulsing into your core. “You’re not ready for my cock or eggs just yet.”

“But I wanna…” you cry, fingers stretching out toward the two writhing cocks that seemed to call your name. “I wanna try!”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, his hand that was not occupied with his massive cocks releasing your wings and gently stroking your face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you can try in a bit. I just don’t want my little one splitting in half before she’s been made useful!”

Your pouting and mouthwatering person turned to face Kirishima again, whose once red eyes were completely black in his rutting lust. 

“Split in half?” you echoed, a slight pain pinching your pussy, the thought of being split in two for those cocks not quite as horrendous as it should be. “Will I be?”

“Not if you stretch yourself out first,” Kirishima corrected, entirely missing your slight hope to be torn in half by his cock. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my finger at first. Do that, and I’ll let you sit on my cock and birth my eggs.”

A chill ran down your back, and you nodded, suddenly more than willing to throw yourself onto anything he would give you to prove yourself. And with his free hand, he presented his long ring finger whose talon was missing, most likely gone from some sort of battle.

But it didn’t matter. It was enough for you to prove yourself. 

Fluttering over to his finger, you dropped the small panties you owned onto his exposed palm before placing your sopping cunt right above his extended finger. You lowered yourself onto the tip, spreading your essence slick against his skin, your eyes unabashedly half-lidded as you watched the muscles in his arm pick up speed as you made eye contact with the excited naga. 

And with a twirl of your hips and a moan that vibrated straight through your chest, you sank onto his finger. 

It truly did feel like his splitting you in half. You recognized immediately at the way your walls nearly couldn’t keep up with how he opened you up. His finger was already giant within your spongey, tight walls. The heat and the callouses of his appendage unreplicable as you silently screamed, your walls spasming tightly around him, an orgasm taking you out without warning. You heaved, exhaustion ticking your brain as the soft bounces you made to further his finger up your cunt making you whine. He was huge, his finger huge. But you liked the fullness it brought you, the way you struggled not to send yourself flying off his finger like some rocket while you continued to fuck yourself against him.

You could do it, you could do it.

Soft wet noises filled the air as Kirishima’s aggressive stroking of his leaking cocks, and the way his finger seemed to be so loud in your tight cavern filled the forest.

More, give him more.

Pressing the collar of your outfit down, your legs wrapped around his finger as you continued to fuck yourself up and down his finger while your hands groped and pinched at your breasts, your eyes rolling back in your horny excitement. You could feel your orgasm growing again. You could tell by the clenching quivering of your spongey, velvet walls against his finger that you were close yet again.

“Fuck, little one, you’re taking my finger so well,” Kirishima sang in his praise, his snake tail coiling and thrashing wildly beneath the both of you, and you longed to feel the snake scales beneath your blazing core too. “Are you ready for my cock? I’m so close, so close. You made me like this, little one, so fucking hot, so sexy, fuck.”

You mewl loudly, your body well aware of the lewd scene he was creating with the way he wrangled his twin cocks in his hand. Your head dropped backward, a high pitched wail shooting through you when his finger moved within you, and you nodded your head as quickly as you could. Your legs relaxing around him as Kirishima quickly picked you off his finger, and without even three seconds of being empty again, two sharp, writhing cocks slammed within your cunt.

You staggered against his hold, body convulsing at the feeling of his snake cock flicking and twirling within your womb, stimulating the puffy, wet walls that were erratically beating, as the both of you came with loud, joint moans.

White filled your vision as your wet juices splattered down his cock, and the weirdest, almost constipating feeling filled you as solid, cold, and round objects filled your womb. Making the drool in your mouth dribble down the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four eggs.

Four eggs for you to grow, four kids you would have with Kirishima, and you sobbed in elation.

“I can feel them, Ei!” you sobbed, content with the babies he just gave you, already expanding your tiny little stomach to the optimal length it could reach. “Our babies!”

Kirishima chuckled, removing your from his cock and placing your pregnant little tiny body onto his shoulder, a sign that he would protect you through anything and everything.

“I can’t wait until they hatch, little one.”

And with that, he nuzzled against your face. And you vibrated in your happiness, more than willing to take on the world as Kirishima continued forward in the world. There was no looking back now.

[aslitheryprinx]

How did Boo and Tubbo meet in the trust au? Also...headcanons?

Beeduo met when they were both still kids, about ten years old. And there's a lot of trust between them now, but that wasn't always the case. Their first meeting wasn't quite so nice... (Headcanons in tags! :D)

________

Snare

___________

Ranboo sprinted through the woods, panting heavily. There were tears running down his face, burning him, but he couldn't manage to stop them.

"It's getting away!" Came an angry shout from behind him. He heard the slow twang of a crossbow being loaded and screamed when the bolt shot past him, grazing a cheek and landing inches from his face.

He heaved another sob and dove over a fallen log, scrambling back up and sprinting slightly off course. He had to throw them off.

"Where the hell did it go?" Another voice shouted.

Ranboo kept running, praying the thick foliage would be enough to keep him hidden.

He ran until the angry shouts of the humans had faded into the distance. His lungs were burning, and he thought he might be about to throw up, but he'd gotten away.

The hunters had spotted him at the newest village he'd drifted to, and he knew he was in trouble. Usually, someone from the village would come and tell him firmly to leave, that his presence was a danger. He could sometimes manage to scrounge some handouts of food before he was kicked out, which was enough to get by.

Most humans had a soft spot for children, and even a mob hybrid like him could get a little sympathy. He doubted the sympathy would last much longer. He was almost ten now, and was a lot taller than human kids his age. Pretty soon he wouldn't look anything like a cute little kid, and people would start calling the hunters instead of just telling him to scram.

But today, hunters were already there, in the village center. He'd been loitering on the edges of the streets, looking sad an hungry enough that a kinder soul would toss some bread or an apple his way. Maybe a coin if he was really lucky.

But one of the hunters had made eye contact from the other side of the street. His eyes had narrowed, and he'd put a hand on his sword, nudging the hunter he was next to.

Ranboo didn't waste another second and bolted, heading to the forest where he'd hopefully be able to lose them. He wasn't sure how many hunters were chasing after him, but he had heard more than two pairs of footsteps.

The last sounds of the hunters were finally fading in the distance, though, so he let himself relax. That had been the scariest thing that had ever happened to him.

He kept walking, wanting to put as much distance between him and the hunters as he could. He wasn't really sure where he was going, or where he was now, but anywhere was better than back at that village.

His foot landed in on something irregular, and he stumbled. As he tripped, there was a loud thwang and suddenly a net was rushing up around him. He yelped, then the breath was knocked out of him as the trap yanked him harshly off the ground.

His heart was pounding as the net spun in lazy circles, making him dizzy. He reoriented himself with some difficulty, and looked down. The ground was way too far for his comfort, and he made a nervous vwoop sound that would normally get him several dirty looks.

He shifted uncomfortably in the net, wincing when the thick rope scraped against his cheek. It was still raw from the burning tears. At least he hadn't scraped his other cheek. The wound from the crossbow bolt was still stinging painfully.

He wiggled uselessly, trying to see any way he could get out. He was desperately hoping that it wasn't a hunter that had set up this trap, or he was dead.

Suddenly, there was a distant thudding noise. He paused and listened. A half second later, there was another, then another. He was confused as the rhythmic thudding continued, growing louder.

It sounded almost like... footsteps...

Ranboos heart was instantly in his throat, the pulsing almost as loud in his ears as the thuds- the footsteps. He began struggling in the net again, not caring when it scraped his cheeks causing a fresh burst of pain.

He'd take being chased by hunters any day over a giant.

All his struggling seemed to do was get him more tangled in the next. He'd resorted to chewing at the rough ropes with his barely sharper than human teeth, but he hadn't made a dent. All he did was hurt his mouth on the rough texture.

A massive shadow fell over him. Ranboo let out a frightened gasp. He was too late.

"Woah," came the loud voice of a giant from behind him. He sounded younger than Ranboo expected. He turned to look, and a frightened chirp escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

The giant towered over him, even suspended far above the forest floor like he was. His head almost reached the tops of the trees. Ranboo shook as he looked into the curious eyes of the giant.

"You're not a deer," the giant said. Suddenly there was a pair of hands bigger than he was reaching towards him. He flinched, automatically trying to retreat from the terrifying sight. He only managed to make the net swing some as one hand came under him.

The giant lifted his hand up, now supporting Ranboo's weight instead of the net. Ranboo froze, terrified to move when the giant could easily close his hand and squish him. He sniffled once, trying very hard not to cry again.

With his other hand, the giant reached up, untying the net from where it was attached. The rope fell, and the net went slack around Ranboo. He felt relief for a brief second, then the giant's other hand came right towards him.

He yelped, but the giant only pulled at the net, untangling the thick ropes from around him. Once it was no longer entwined in Ranboo's limbs, the giant plucked the net off his hand, stuffing it in a pocket.

Ranboo's stomach churned with anxiety. He could probably be shoved in a pocket just as easily. Something about that was really unsettling, and he tried not to think about it too much.

But that meant he was thinking about the giant. The giant that was currently holding him, could crush him until he was a pile of Rangoo. The giant that was currently staring directly at him with eyes that felt like they were boring into his soul.

He made a frightened noise as the giant lifted him up, closer to his face. He could just barely feel his breaths wafting over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst.

"Awww, you're hurt!" The giant said, the volume making him flinch. But he opened his eyes again, confused at the concern in the words.

"What happened?" The giant asked.

"U-um," Ranboo squeaked. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "H-hunters. They were trying to k- to hurt me."

The giant frowned. It was something Ranboo would've expected to be frightening, but the giant looked more like he was pouting than anything.

"That's stupid," the giant declared. "Hunters sound mean." Ranboo nodded hesitantly.

"Y-yeah they're really mean. They saw me in the village and then chased me out here."

The giant hummed. He poked Ranboo with a single finger. The ender hybrid let out a startled noise, heart spiking with panic. He stayed very still as the giant kept poking him, eventually playing with his hair. He was very gentle, and it didn't hurt, but it was still pretty nerve-wracking.

"My name is Tubbo! I just turned ten," the giant said. "How old are you?"

"Um. I'm about to turn ten," Ranboo mumbled nervously.

"So you're nine! Ha! I'm older!" Tubbo said. He paused, giving Ranboo a funny look. "You didn't say your name."

"S-sorry," Ranboo said quickly, not wanting to make the giant angry. "My name is Ranboo."

"Hi Ranboo! That's a funny name," the giant said. Ranboo frowned.

"My name is fine," he muttered a little petulantly. First Tubbo caught him in a net, then was super scary and poking at him. And now he was making fun of Ranboo's name! He was too scared to say it loudly, which wasn't fair.

Tubbo started poking him again, and he let out a small stressed vwoop. Then the giant brushed his cheek and he winced, whimpering.

"Sorry!" Tubbo said. "I guess it's still bleeding. Oh! I have bandages at my house. I'll take you there!"

Uh oh. Ranboo did not want to go home with the giant, he decided. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but stopped. What could he even say?

Before he could decide how to ask Tubbo to let him go without him getting angry and squishing him to a pulp, the hand beneath him moved, knocking him off balance.

He was suddenly pressed against a massive chest, and he stiffened. Tubbo was walking, chattering about something, but Ranboo couldn't focus on the words because of the deep pulsing sound in his ears. It was the giants heartbeat, and it was kind of terrifying he could hear it so clearly. It was also a relaxing sound, and Ranboo couldn't really decide which it was more of.

Tubbo kept walking, and Ranboo had no choice but to go with him, trapped as he was against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat.

Eventually, Tubbo slowed, pulling Ranboo away from his chest. Ranboo stared up nervously at the giant.

"We're here!" Tubbo said cheerfully, ducking into a massive cave. Ranboo looked around wide-eyed at the massive furniture. He jumped as Tubbo's hand moved once more, lowering him onto a table.

"Stay right there, I'll go get the bandages!" Tubbo told him, then he walked deeper into the cave, out of sight.

Ranboo stared for a moment, before he realized this was his chance. He stood quickly and ran to the edge of the table. The drop was steep and high and utterly terrifying. Ranboo backed away from the edge. Maybe his chance could come another time.

"Hey!" Tubbo suddenly said. Ranboo hadn't heard him come back. And he'd come back much quicker than he expected.

Suddenly, he was being scooped up in the giants hand again, and he yelped. The giant was frowning again, and Ranboo realized the pout was kind of intimidating when it was being directed at him.

"No running off until you're fixed up," Tubbo scolded. It sounded like something a parent might say, and Ranboo wondered if he'd learned it from somewhere. It was still utterly terrifying coming from an irate giant.

"S-sorry," Ranboo apologized, a little breathless with fear. Tubbo blinked at him. His frown deepened before his expression became a little guilty, a little hurt.

"Are you scared of me, Ranboo?" He asked. Ranboo froze, not sure how to answer. Tubbo seemed to take his silence as its own answer.

"You are!" He said, and Ranboo flinched back. Was Tubbo angry at him for being scared? If he was, that would just make Ranboo more scared, and he wasn't sure what he would do then.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo apologized, and Ranboo looked up in surprise. Huh?

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Was I mean?" Tubbo asked, sounding genuinely upset. "I was trying to be really nice! What did I do wrong?" Ranboo's brow furrowed. Did he really think he wasn't scary at all?

"You- you caught me in a net!" Ranboo said, reeling a little. "And you kept poking me!"

"The net wasn't on purpose!" The giant protested, and Ranboo shrank back a little. "I was trying to catch a deer, but it was you instead."

"It was still really scary," Rambo pointed out quietly. Tubbo wilted a little.

"I guess it would be pretty scary. I didn't mean to, though," he said. "And I guess poking is pretty terrifying too. I was just curious. I didn't mean to be mean."

"Well... I guess you weren't really mean," Ranboo said honestly. "Not on purpose. You're still really scary, though."

And it was true. It wasn't as frightening anymore, if Tubbo was trying not to scare him, but the giant still loomed over him. He could still hold him in a single hand, and could pick him up or poke at him whenever he wanted. That really scared Ranboo.

"I'm sorry," Tubbo said sincerely. "If I try really hard not to be scary, will you stay until your cut is better?"

Ranboo fidgeted. He didn't really want to stay. But... Tubbo was trying not to scare him. And he actually was nice, nicer than most people Ranboo met. He had changed his mind; he definitely preferred Tubbo to the hunters. And maybe... Maybe if he stayed, he wouldn't have to go to a new village for a little while. Tubbo had promised he wouldn't hurt him...

"Trust me! I can be really nice! No more mean and scary Tubbo!" The giant looked at him imploringly. Ranboo hesitated, then nodded.

"Ok," he said, hoping he was making the right choice. "I trust you."

Tubbo beamed.

Previous (sort of)

Next

[lifeofkaze]

The Easter Dragon

Charlie Weasley x Reader

A/N: Happy Easter to all you lovely people!

Word Count: ~ 1.800 

With a sigh of relief, Charlie shut the door to his old room behind him and leaned against it for a moment. The Burrow was a madhouse today; all his brothers and his sister had arrived with their families to celebrate Easter with the Weasley grandparents. His parents loved their house being filled with the laughter of countless children once more, but Charlie was glad for the respite his old room provided him.

Everyone was here already, except for you. You weren’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow, for the actual Easter celebrations. There had been some last minute emergency back at the dragon reserve that had demanded your immediate attention; under usual circumstances, Charlie would have stayed as well, but the circumstances were anything but usual this time.

He carefully placed his bag on his old bed and produced the giant chocolate egg he had secretly crafted in your kitchen back in Romania before he had left for England. His mother had told him how to do it; gifting each other chocolate eggs had been a tradition in the Weasley family since Charlie could remember.

He had given it his all; he had spent countless hours meticulously carving the scales out of the crimson coloured chocolate before he had sprinkled it with a fine layer of golden glitter to make it look like the egg of a Chinese Fireball; he knew they were your favourite breed.

Charlie brushed his old dragon miniatures on the desk to the side with his elbow before he delicately placed the dragon egg on the wooden surface. He lifted the top off and set it aside before he dug deep into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the small red box containing your present and placed it in the middle of the lower half. He assembled both halves again, making sure the scales on the outside were aligning, and sealed the crack in the chocolate with a flick of his wand.

He observed his work with a self-satisfied grin before placing the egg in the wicker basket he had stuffed with hay and some smaller chocolate eggs and pushed it back under his bed until the time for its great appearance had come.

Relieved that this part of your surprise was finished, he left the room to go help Bill put up the garden decorations his mother had forced on him, whistling happily to himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the two intrigued pairs of eyes watching him leaving his room from the shadow of the crooked staircase.

*

When he returned an hour later, he stopped dead in his tracks upon finding the door to his room standing slightly ajar. The colour drained from his freckled face as he frantically raked his mind for the memory of whether he had locked the door or not. He pushed it open and went straight for the hiding place of his special Easter basket. He crouched down on the floor to peek under the bed and found his worst fear confirmed; the basket was gone.

His heart pounded faster as the panic started to set in; he had to find the dragon egg again. He searched the whole floor for it, then the next one down, and the ground floor afterwards. He was just rummaging through the kitchen as the sound of crinkling paper and giggles reached his ears from the adjacent living room.

Charlie spun around and followed the laughter to find his nieces and nephews assembled in a circle on the carpet, surrounded by heaps of coloured wrapping paper, mouths smudged with chocolate. In the middle of the carnage sat his basket, the red dragon egg the last thing to survive the feast.

“Where did you get that?” he asked them with the sternest Uncle-Charlie-voice he could muster.

The little rascals froze on their spot as their eyes collectively darted to their scolding uncle.

Little Lily finally plucked up her courage to answer him. “The Easter Bunny brought us chocolate!” she stated defensively. “We were even sharing!”

Charlie stemmed his hands into his hips. “The Easter Bunny, huh? Does this,” he pointed to his chocolate dragon egg, “look like a regular Easter egg to you?”

They all shook their head. “No, Uncle Charlie,” muttered Hugo.

“That’s because it’s something special,” Charlie lowered his voice conspiratorially. “It belongs to the Easter Dragon.”

James crossed his arms in front of his chest critically. “The Easter Dragon?”

“Exactly,” Charlie crouched down next to them. “He lives in Romania and like proper dragons do, he guards his treasure until the time is right. And he wants you to give his egg back.”

James hummed and leaned over to his cousin Fred II without taking his eyes off Charlie. “Do we believe that, Freddie?”

The other boy shook his head. “Not at all, James.”

“Thought so.” With a sudden lunge forward he tackled Charlie, who immediately lost his balance and crashed to the ground. James wrestled Charlie’s wand from the waistband of his trousers and held it up triumphantly before leaping off his stunned uncle.

“Run!” he shouted to the other children. Fred grabbed the precious egg and lead the pack out into the garden in a full sprint, James hot on his heels.

Charlie cursed in Romanian and scrambled to his feet. He cursed again as he realised his wandless state and set off after them.

Although their legs were fundamentally shorter than his, they were surprisingly fast, he had to give them that.

He was chasing them through the garden and back into the house again. George had joined him as he had leapt over the fence of the chicken compound. “Why are we running?” he had shouted at Charlie with his unmistakable mischievous laugh, but Charlie had been too out of breath to answer.

They raced them through the kitchen and up the stairs to the top landing. Charlie thought they had them cornered there, but these kids were surprisingly resourceful. They had climbed out of the window and onto the roof one by one and were clambering down on the many nooks and ledges of the Burrow by the time Charlie had reached them.

He could hear Hermione hysterically screaming from outside as she saw Hugo dangling from the ancient drains, but by the time she had her wand out, he had already let go and landed safely in James’s arms.

Charlie dashed down the stairs again with newfound determination; if he managed to reach the porch before they did, he would be able to intercept them and get his treasure dragon egg back.

He skittered out of the patio door to see the kids already making their way off the porch in the direction of the fields unfolding behind their garden. Freddie was still carrying the egg under his arm.

As they passed Victoire, who was lounging in a sunchair at the end of the patio, flicking through the pages of a magazine, she stuck her foot out all of a sudden without even batting an eye. James, who had been running in front, stumbled and came crashing down on the floorboards; the other children were unable to stop their momentum and tripped over him, landing on top of each other in a cluster of arms and legs.

“That’s for ratting Teddy and me out earlier,” Victoire stated indignantly, got up and strutted off.

Charlie was finally able to catch up with them, this flanks burning from the lack of air. As Freddie scrambled to his feet rubbing his elbow, he was able to take in the amount of damage the fall had wreaked on what had been the focal point for his great surprise for you only an hour ago.

The crimson chocolate egg had crushed beneath the weight of his nieces and nephews, the shattered remains scattered all over the floor. Charlie’s eyes quickly scanned the area for the small box the egg had held; unseen by the children, it had rolled under Victoire’s sunchair. Before anyone else could get their hands on it, he quickly scooped it up.

“What in Godric’s name happened here?”

Charlie jumped at the familiar voice coming from behind him. He quickly got up off the floor and hid the box behind his back as he turned around to face you.

He smiled in what he hoped looked like a surprised and innocent way as you strode up the steps from the garden to place a quick kiss on his lips.

“What’re you doing here already, love?” he murmured against your lips. “I thought they needed you back at the reserve until tomorrow.”

You hummed as you smiled up at your oddly flustered looking boyfriend. “We were able to settle things quicker than we thought we would, so I caught an earlier portkey.” You eyed him up and down. “Is everything alright?”

He was spared an answer as the kids, who had disentangled themselves from one another, took note of who had just arrived.

“Auntie Y/N!” they screeched as the raced past Charlie and almost knocked you back down the steps into the grass.

You laughed and ruffled their hair. Lily hugged your waist tightly and exclaimed “Look at what we nicked from the Easter Dragon!” She was waving one of the bigger shards of the chocolate egg in your face.

Your eyes found Charlie’s as you smiled down at the girl; they were shining with the laughter mirrored on your face. “The Easter Dragon, huh? Now that’s a dragon I’d like to meet; do you want to tell me all about him?” You picked Lily up and made your way over to the big tree at the corner of the garden where the old swing Charlie and his siblings had played on when they were children was situated.

All the kids followed her without so much as another glance at their uncle. Only Lily stuck his tongue out to him over your shoulder.

Charlie smiled to himself at the sight of you surrounded by the youngest members of your family. He opened the box he had still held hidden behind his back until now to check its content. He sighed with relief upon seeing that the ring situated inside was unharmed.

“Do you think she noticed something?” Bill had walked up to him, leaning on the railing lining their porch and casting a quick glance at his younger brother.

Charlie snapped the box shut again and stuffed it deep into his pocket. “I don’t think so.”

“And what are you going to do now? Your plan seems pretty much ruined to me.”

Charlie shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter,” he grinned, “the Easter Dragon always finds a way.”

[inkformyblood]

To Love Is To Learn

Jangobi Week 2021 Prompt #6 Fix-It AU (Canon Divergence mid-Kamino)

“Decommissioned?” Jango stopped, his boots ringing on the metal floor. The spindly Kaminoan, Lino Bivui, turned back towards him, twisting a stylus round their pale fingers. Their cheeks were flushed a pale grey, something that resembled excitement sparking in their dark eyes. It sent a cold shiver of unease running down Jango’s spine, and he tucked his thumbs into the hip pockets of his blacks to stop himself from reaching for the blaster on his hip.

“Yes.”

Jango fought the urge to roll his eyes, the gesture no longer hidden behind the safety of his helmet. Muscles he didn’t know he had ached from training the new batch of troopers, and exhaustion had been a constant companion for the past two years. But he was still here, roaming the halls with the Kaminoan, rather than curling into his bed for a few hours before the training began again.

“What,” Jango let some of his irritation gather in his voice like an oncoming storm, “exactly do you mean by the decommissioning of the clone troopers?” The words ‘of my sons’ went unspoken, bitten back at the last second, because how could he not love them? It would be as impossible as trying to pluck every star from the sky with his bare hands. He was Mando’a, regardless of what people tried to say to him, and some instincts were harder to shake than others.

Lino Bivui drew themselves up higher, confused and affronted and Jango didn’t care. He wasn’t about to ask twice, letting himself finally wrap his fingers around the handle of his blaster. Their eyes dropped to it the movement, as dark and liquid as the sea on this infernal planet, and they sighed. 

Telling Jango what it meant may not have been the last thing they ever did, but they sealed their fate when they finished with ‘After all, they’re not human.’

Green blood covered the walls, dripping from Jango’s hands as he worked methodically through the floors, enacting his own brand of justice. When the day dawned on Kamino, the facility was empty and Jango Fett, along with his sons and storage vats, was nowhere to be found.

⁂

Jango didn’t know exactly what time it was — the instinct had slowly eroded with every year of peace that passed — but he knew it was too damn early. 

An exploratory press of his hand sideways came away tangled in a cold nest of blankets, some softer than he was used even now, revealing Obi-Wan was already awake and up with their sons. The thought still sent a twisted curl of warmth through his chest, Jango’s heart beating slightly faster whenever he remembered that Obi-Wan had chosen him, and let Jango love him in return. 

His train of thought was derailed as the crushing weight firmly settled on top of his chest shifted, one tiny hand pressing into his cheek. “Bui’?”

Jango fought back the reflexive groan, knowing his previous plans last night — of being able to luxuriate in bed with his riduur on one of Obi-Wan’s rare mornings free — were now impossible and half-opened an eye. A blurry face stared back at him, impossibly close and Jango did groan this time, eyes snapping shut again to try and dissuade the eager toddler sitting on him. 

It didn’t work.

“Bui’!” Jango flinched away from the resounding squeal, the noise sending a blaster bolt of pain through his head. He hooked his arm under the wriggling toddler and twisted them both so they were lying on the blankets, side by side, hoping beyond hope that his restless son would settle. 

“Bui’, up!”

Jango resigned himself to wakefulness, navigating by touch — making the child next to him giggle in delight and try to grab at his fingers — to press his forehead to his son’s, breathing in the gentle scent of floral shampoo and the faint tinge of engine oil.

Clearly, the Alpha batch had gotten distracted while watching their younger siblings already.

The group was so similar to Jango already that on previous occasions, he had found Jaster’s admonishments falling from his lips, an echo that made him turn pale with looks of teenage defiance turning to worry in a second. 

“Good morning, ad’ika,” Jango groaned, pressing his shoulder back as far as he could, hearing the bone crack with the motion. He squinted down at the boy, a growing sense of confusion washing through him. Which child was this?

The decision to decant the remaining batches from the storage tanks had been a long argued over one. The battle raged until the early hours of the morning, only to resume at first light, proving to be ultimately pointless when they all discovered that the children would die otherwise. 

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti had deliberately not looked at the other before they crept from the meeting room towards the tanks to begin the process as soon as they heard. Jango suspected they were the key driving forces — except Jango and Obi-Wan himself — in annulling the previous agreement between the Kaminoans and the Senate and granting all of his sons their freedom.

Jango sat up, the child copying his actions clumsily, a wide grin on their face and eyes fixed on him. A quick check of his outfit: the steel blue of the batch marked to be the 501st Legion originally, helped somewhat, but not enough. He couldn’t be Echo or Fives — those two were never far apart from each other — and he lacked the careful braids of Tup. Jango sighed, roughly kicking his legs free of the blanket and standing up, the child already rising to his feet — wobbling slightly on the uneven mattress and raising his arms to be picked up. 

“Kix?” Jango asked as he obliged. The delighted peal of laughter as he settled the boy on his hip let him know he was wrong once again. 

The tiles were warm beneath his feet, and Jango smiled to himself as the memory of Obi-Wan collapsing into the bed beside him — his skin sun-warmed and smelling faintly of honey — rose unbidden as he walked towards the door. For all Jango treasured his memories of Obi-Wan, nothing could compare to the man himself.

Obi-Wan sat crossed-legged in a pool of dappled sunlight, a gently steaming cup of tea next to his knee with one child sat in his lap with a look of such intense concentration on his face Jango couldn’t help but grin. 

“Cody has been such a good help this morning,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes still closed but his face inclined towards Jango regardless. Cody opened one eye — the other slowly opening despite his best efforts — and nodded enthusiastically.

“Have the rest been behaving for your buir?” Jango asked Cody who, even at the age of approximately seven, carried the self-inflicted responsibility of the other children on his shoulders. 

Cody paused, clearly trying to think of a half-truth as he spotted the child held on Jango’s hip.

“Seventeen said they’d only be a few minutes,” he reported finally. “And that Jesse wanted to find Kix so he wouldn’t be any bother, and Kix is still asleep.”

“Cyar’ika, we need better colour-coding for our children.” Jesse was already squirming to be put down as Jango lowered him to the floor, trying to run towards the sleeping Kix — sprawled on the floor next to Obi-Wan — even before his feet made contact. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan did look at him then, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, hair shot through with gold in the sunlight.

Cody sighed a far too world-weary sound, and wriggled free of Obi-Wan’s lap, crossing the room to scramble into the playpen with Boba and Rex instead.

Jango laughed, leaning down to kiss Obi-Wan as he had been wanting to do since he first woke up. The other man laughed against his lips — laughter prompted by the disapproving sigh that echoed from the teenager passing by their open door, one child clinging to his back — and reached up to wrap his arms around Jango’s neck, fingers tugging at the curls at the base of his neck. 

“I love you,” Jango whispered, trying to fit years worth of gratitude and love into those three simple words. 

“I know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and so full of love that he could have plucked Jango’s heart from his chest and he wouldn’t have protested. 

A wail made them break apart, Boba noticing that Jango was in the room and reaching for him demandingly as Cody held Rex balanced on his hip, smoothing one hand over his younger brother’s blonde curls. 

Jango kissed Obi-Wan again, quick, gone before the other man could do much more than blink and moved towards Boba. The morning was golden, and his family was safe. It was everything he never imagined he would have on that day when he fled from Kamino, blood on his hands and a sobbing child on his lap while the rest sat silent and scared in the hold. And Jango was so grateful that he had made that choice, as it brought him his family.

[danger-xylophones]

I Know... (Boba Fett x reader)

{masterlist}

Synopsis: Reader gets a surprise when they return to Tatooine

Warnings: Reader threatens Boba Fett? It’s implied that reader follows a similar code to Din, angst if you squint, I dunno - tell me if something else needs to be up here. No beta read

.......................................

Something was happening on Tatooine. You didn’t know what. But you’d gotten an urgent message that read: 

“Return immediately. - B.F.” 

You figured Fortuna had pissed off another New Republic marshal and was recalling all bounty hunters he had under his control to protect him. The useless crik. If you didn’t have that damn contract with him you’d skin him yourself. ‘Spose you were lucky - you could’ve turned out like that blue twi’lek he kept chained to Jabba’s throne. But, as it were, you were stuck working to pay off a debt to Jabba that, when he died, passed to Bib. 

You were approaching Tatooine, about to enter the atmosphere, when a new message chirped through. 

“Mandalorian, disengage weapons, land, and enter throne room unarmed. - B.F.” 

That was new. And you were immediately on edge. Your mind flew threw every bounty you’d ever done, every interaction with the New Republic, every contact Bib had for why special interest was placed on you. There were millions of people who could target you just for the beskar concealing your form and millions more that could come after you for revenge. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. No matter what Fortuna ordered. But you’d at least play nice for a little bit. With a few clicks, the guns were shut down on your ship and the landing platform was in sight. You elected to remove your most obvious weapons but the wrist launcher, the flamethrower, the jetpack and the missile attached, and the beskar itself stayed put. Not a moment later, you landed. And you were on your way in. 

The palace was strangely unguarded and there were no other ships in sight. Which meant you were probably walking into a trap. You counted how many whistling birds you had left. 

“Mandalorian.” A foreign voice called out right as you stepped inside. The tunnel was dark, only two light sources were present - the binary suns heating the planet and the warmer light of the main room. And standing in the middle of the tunnel was a woman with long braided hair wearing a kama and a red and black helmet...and holding a rifle. “Last of Clan L/n?” 

You stiffened. “Where did you learn that name?” The words were icy as they slipped through the vocoder, a barely contained malice painting them. 

The woman chuckled and moved the rifle to her back before reaching up to pluck the helmet from her head. “My name is Fennec Shand.” She explained in an even tone whilst completely dodging the question. 

“I know who you are.” You spat out. Fennec’s presence ruled out the presence of the New Republic but did not eliminate the threat of attack. 

She was unperturbed. “I was sent to escort you.” Without any fanfare, she turned on her heel and began to march. “Follow me.”  You had half a mind to shoot her in the back. But you did not have a blaster on you because you’d chosen to play nice. But...it looked like if it came down to it, you would be able to overpower Fennec and take her rifle. Afterall, you had the beskar which was in itself a weapon. 

In the meantime, you would follow. 

Fennec kept a quick, decisive pace and didn’t spare even a glance over her shoulder to see if you were following. Which you had to admire. She certainly was sure of herself. You kept your distance, making sure there was plenty of space between you and the legendary assassin, as she led you further into Jabba’s palace - right into the throne room. With a silent sigh, you braced yourself to face either Bib or a squadron of bounty hunters with blasters trained on you. 

Fennec stopped and turned her back to the room you were about to enter. She gestured for you to go ahead. You grimaced under your helmet and rounded the corner. 

You weren’t expecting the person sitting on the throne. 

It felt as if somebody had reached through the beskar right into your chest to take your heart in hand and squeeze. Air stung your throat as you sucked in a surprised gasp. You could feel your body go rigid. Hidden behind a t-shape visor, your eyes frantically darted around as you took in the freshly painted dull green beskar, the red vambraces, the red paint lining the visor of the helm, the dent in the helmet, before taking in how they sat with legs parted wide and weight resting heavily on one arm in an effort to make them look bigger than they were - to make them all the more intimidating. You would have been intimidated...if it was actually him. 

Instead, you were pissed. 

“Where did you get that armor?” The words slipped from you before you had time to think of anything more tactful in a low growl. They just tilted their helmet at you. The anger grew at the subtle arrogance in the gesture. “Give it to me.” They made no move to do so. You took a threatening step forward, beskar boot clanking. “Now.” 

“You are in no position to make such a demand,” He...he sounded like him, “Y/n.” Your wrist was pointed at him, whistling birds at the ready, in an instant. His shoulders bounced with the small, amused huff that slipped from him. “Put your toys away, cyare. They aren’t necessary here.” You didn’t listen. He laughed again, low and warm, and you were ashamed at your body’s instant reaction to the sound. “You certainly haven’t changed.”

“Who are you?” You practically snarled. 

“Come up here and take my helmet off.” That startled you more than it should have. Maybe it was his voice, so similar to the one you could have spent hours listening to when you were just a bit younger. Maybe it was the sheer dominating aura this man was emitting. Maybe it was the total lack of fear surrounding something you relied on so heavily to protect you from first the Empire and now the New Republic. You didn’t know. You didn’t comply. 

“No.” 

He sat up. “I said come up here and take my helmet off.” 

You puffed out your chest just a little bit more. “And I said ‘no’.” A beat of silence passed. The only sound the swish of Fennec’s kama as she chanced a glance at the two of you. “Where did you get the armor?” 

A sigh, lower than anything he’d done before slipped through his helmet’s vocoder as he hung his helmeted head. “You’re really going to be like this?” He asked, turning the helmet to the side to look at you but without lifting it.

“Listen, di’kut, I’m not going to ask again: Where did you get the armor?” You hissed, taking another threatening step toward Bib Fortuna’s old throne - you hadn’t even noticed that the room was deserted save for you, this stranger, and Fennec. 

He tilted his head at you. You tilted your head at him expectantly. “I earned it.” He huffed out. “Haar’chak, I knew you would be stubborn.”  

“You know nothing about me.” 

“I know that your hair is h/c.” 

Your gaze hardened beneath the helmet. “Ho-?”

“I know that your eyes are e/c.” He cut you off. “I know that you have the softest skin in all the galaxy.” As he spoke, he rose from his seat. “I know that when you get upset you squint your eyes and wrinkle your nose.” And with every word, he stepped closer to you. “I know that when you get nervous, you chew on your bottom lip. I know that you’re scared of the galaxy and that it eats at you every night.” The man stopped in front of you and gently took your wrist in hand to carefully lower it back to your side. “I know that you doubt that you are a true Mandalorian.” He deactivated the launcher. His helmet was barely a few centimeters from your own, any closer and your foreheads would meet. “Ni kar’taylir.” I know. There was only one person that knew. 

“Boba?” His name was a breath of fresh air on your tongue, silvery sweet yet oh so painful to say. Wordlessly, he reached down and grabbed both of your hands. He brought them up to clasp either side of his helmet and then he let go. A moment passed like that - painfully still. Every part of you seemed on fire. Your lungs burned as if they were receiving no oxygen from each breath you took. Your heart hammered in your chest powerful enough to make you fear it would break through your ribs. You could feel a distinct wetness making your eyes prickle and sting. 

Your hands trembled as you lifted the helmet, inch by inch to reveal scarred dark skin, deep brown eyes, and a small, affectionate smile on his lips. “Hello.” 

The helmet hit the floor with yours soon joining it. “Boba!” You couldn’t help but sob before you pushing yourself into his arms. His arms, in turn, locked around you - one crushing you to his chest while the hand on the other grasped the back of your head. “I-I thought-” 

“I escaped.” 

“How?” 

“Not now.” He whispered into your hairline. The gentle brush of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. 

“I never got to say it before...ni kar’taylir darasuum.” 

He smiled against your skin and pulled you closer. “Ni kar’taylir.” 

Taglist: @apocalypticwafflekitten @cherryxcyarika @pinkiemme @justalittlecloud

[dimeadoesnt]

New fic is up!

I’ve been sitting on this one a while, but the first chapter is up here and on AO3!

Rating: teen and up

Warning: (semi)graphic depictions of violence

Word count: 4,418

Lone wolf

Summary: A brief hunting trip leads to more trouble than anyone could have anticipated after sniper is left with an unnatural bite, from an unnatural source.Not that anyone should be surprised, this is hardly the strangest thing to happen to happen to them

Ch. 1: predator and prey

Despite the growing warmth of spring, Romania’s winter clung stubbornly to all that would allow it. The winds still nipped at exposed skin, the ground was still firm throughout valleys and glades, and despite the burning of circuitry and searing bullet-holes, what was once the shells of robots turned icy in a matter of minutes. In all it had taken a little less than a day for four of Mann Co.‘s mercenaries to rid the world of them, if for no other reason than they stood in the way of gathering intelligence. It wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter, programming was unquestioned, undoubted, and undisturbed in its complicity of ‘shoot what moves.’ Granted, that hardly seemed important when they all ended up as scrap metal anyways.

At least those were the thoughts silently floating around Snipers mind as he sat atop one of the larger bots they’d done in, pulling against his bowstring to test the weight it could pull after a few adjustments.

He’d made up his mind that a hunt wouldn’t be a half-bad idea. Evening was falling on their little group now waiting for confirmation on their return plan, but with the nearby forests shadows stretching on to cast shade along the hidden base, grabbing a few provisions seemed the right choice. A deer if he was lucky, or a few rabbits if they were not. Engineer would probably take what he was offered, scout ate almost anything put in front of him and spy... well spy could complain all he wanted, food was food and if he wanted something better he could find it himself.

The sharpshooter mulled over how much gear he would actually need, giving pause as he decided packing light would prove effective, the less he had weighing him down the better. He gave pause to his thoughts however, as his attention was pulled from them to the slight shift of weight behind him.

“What dyou want, mongrel?” He asked, going back to examining his gear by smoothing out the fletching between his fingers.

“How’d you know I was behind you?” Scout asked, rounding out from behind the automatons husk with an aggrieved glare. “I was quiet as hell, like a literal mouse couldn’t do any better.”

“Owls hear mice all the time, consider it a predator vs prey thing.”

“You callin me prey?”

“I’m callin you easy to catch. Now what dyou want? I’m about to head out.”

“Oh for real?” Scout asked, any hint of annoyance quickly melting away in favor of a thinly veiled excitement. “That’s actually what I was gonna ask about! So I know you go survivor mode sometimes, decide ya wanna rough it for a while somewhere not here- well not *here* exactly, but wherever we are, and head out to wherever you go when you do this. No clue where that is, considering we’re usually in the middle of nowhere, but I gotta assume you found someplace half decent. Anyways, not the point- what I’m gettin at is: you like to hunt, right?”

Sniper gave a quick nod, used to the younger man taking detours in his road of thought by now.

“Right! So you know all the ins and outs of it?” Another nod. “Awesome! So let’s say, hypothetically, that if someone asked, you would show them how to hunt.”

From the outside it seemed the suggestion hadn’t phased the huntsman, half his face obscured by shades and the wide-brimmed hat, though beneath the shade his eyes squinted as he stared scout down, brows furrowed and suspicious.

“You want me to show you?” He asked, voice flat despite the surprise; an opening scout readily pounced on.

“Well since you’re offering I don’t see why not! Thanks, pal, knew you were a good guy. I’ll grab my stuff and meet ya in like, two minutes.”

Before any protest could be uttered, scout was gone. Perhaps rabbit would be on the menu- and a very loud one at that if nothing else could be caught.

The hike hadn’t been much of a problem. The distance between their enemy’s ex-outpost and the wilderness was nigh nonexistent as it bordered the edge where trees staggered into the valley. Instead the problems began to occur the further into the tree line they trekked. Shadows grew darker, and distant sounds of wildlife echoed to sound both much closer and much further away at the same time, at least to an untrained ear.

There were plenty of issues in bringing someone inexperienced along for a hunt, however the one scout seemed to have the most trouble with was the very idea of being quiet- a fact that would surprise nobody if they were to hear it. The runner trampled twigs and underbrush like he was trying to make a path, and he swatted at limbs and moss as if to knock them down entirely. The worst though was the fact that he did not know how to stop talking. Even when trying to be quiet the young man opted for a stage whisper instead of silence, asking every now and then how deep they would go, what exactly they were looking for, how soon it would be before he could bag something and bring it back. Sniper indulged in a few of the questions, though the deeper in, the less he spoke at all.

Another minute or so and the pair had come to a halt, looking between a small parting of grass, and a thinning of trees. A self-assured grin made itself at home on the marksmans face as he held a hand up, moving scout to settle in behind a tree before grappling the limbs of its neighbor until he was hidden among the lower branches, whispering for scout to watch closely. Unfortunately, scout himself seemed to have different plans.

“Watch?” He hissed. “What dyou mean watch? I’m takin down what I see.”

“No, you’re not.” Sniper said flatly. “There’s more to it than just taking the shot, if you make a mistake it’ll end badly for everyone.” There was no room for argument there, despite how scout very much wanted to. While the Australian was normally a surprisingly patient man, he was just as much so a creature of routine and practice.

Within a few seconds they had fallen completely silent, save for the occasional shift, or scout plucking at grass, occasionally glancing back towards their target range with mounting boredom. Snipers slow shifting ceased after only a few moments, falling into a comfortable, practiced stillness while his eyes never once left the clearings edges.

Time passed immeasurably after that. The only frame of reference coming from the last rays of sun being replaced by the pale light of moonbeams breaking through the treetops. The air was still in only the way a forest without wind could be, and unsteadily silent, waiting for a disturbance to startle from its light sleep. Finely tuned instinct whispered to wait, to watch, and to forget hesitance the moment opportunity struck.

Eventually the instinct proved itself valuable when the sound of rustling leaves echoed across the glade. It was faint and careful, but the sound was distinctly the cautious pacing of a creature. within a minute the sloping curve of a deers head was peering in between the trees, apparently assessing the landscape before slowly stepping further into the pass.

Sniper readied his bow, thumbing over one of his arrows ends as he knocked it to his wire.

Slow breaths.

Focus.

Don’t blink.

He drew the bow taut, one eye slipping closed to center the arrows tip between the wide eyes of the timid creature. A deep breath and all breathing stopped, fingers slipping from the wire to let the arrow fly. and had he loosed it properly the shot would have hit perfectly, painlessly, and efficiently. Unfortunately, a sudden crash and shout startled the entire wood out of its tense sleep, as birds flew their nest and both predator and prey startled. sniper snapped the arrow into a tree, and the deer ran off full tilt the way it had come. The hunter turned to check on where scout had been sitting earlier only to find the spot was empty, and with that sudden realization, knew full well where the disturbance had come from.

He dropped from the trees limb onto the ground, trying to pick up on where the sound had come from, cursing scouts name to hell and back while also praying there were no bears nearby; and if there were that scout wasn’t foolhardy enough to try and disturb one. Another, closer, shout sounded off from his right, and while Sniper might have otherwise been livid at the absolute disregard shown for their entire outing, he was more focused on the look of absolute terror his teammate wore.

“We gotta go!” Scout snapped, stopping just long enough to tug and Snipers arm, which was just as soon yanked back.

“What happened?!” The larger man asked, grabbing scout by the shoulder to get some kind of answer before acting.

Scout gave a broad sweep toward the way he had come from. “It- I don’t know! I don’t know, there was this- it had to be some kinda messed up animal. All I know is that it was real big, real angry, and fast as all hell, so we gotta **GO** he urged once more, taking a step backwards towards the way they’d left the outpost.

“You want to drag whatever it is back with us?” The marksman scolded, moving to press his back against one of the massive trees. “If it can see us it’ll follow us. What we need is distance or a distraction otherwise it’s-“ his voice halted as a new ‘crash’ shook the ground; much heavier, and much closer than any had been before. Scout seemed to be all too aware of what it was, reaching over to yank the kukri from Snipers hip in an apparent knee-jerk reaction.

Both were well aware of what a calm before the storm felt like, and this was no different. Everything stood as still as an image. Nightbirds didn’t let out a note, deer and rabbits sat still wherever they were, and the two men in the forest barely breathed against the fragile air that surrounded them.

And it was all broken in a second.

Without warning, an animalistic yowl shook the very earth and a hulking mass launched itself from the shadows, its weight slamming into snipers side like a bullet train. All at once the air was knocked from his lungs as predator and prey slammed into the trees base. There was only a second to get any bearings, but that second slowed to eternity at the sight of the attacker. In the light of the moon both men got an unhindered look at the terrible creature.

Thick hair black as pitch stood on end, back hunched forward on legs too long for comfort. A large maw curled back into a sinister, sharp snarl, its long fangs shooting out to gnash at its target. Worst of all though we’re those eyes. Pupils pierced through a wide ring of brown like daggers, while the rest was filled with white. Stark, pallid, bone white- visible in all directions around the pale brown irises.

An unsettling discomfort pierced Snipers chest when he looked into those eyes, getting the distinct feeling that they knew exactly what they were looking at, and that the mind behind them was smarter than its exterior. It knew that it was stronger than them. It knew that it was fast enough to catch any movement. And it knew it wanted these sharp little things in its forest gone.

The second ended, and the beast launched itself forward again with a growl so deep it rumbled in the base of the hunters chest. Reflexively he lifted his hands, catching the creatures face in a shaky grip, matted fur held tight between his fingers as he tugged it away. Snapping teeth shot forward, yanking one of the hands free from their grip, and on instinct the arm was brought up in front of snipers neck. A second of numbness followed, though a deep spattering of blood began dripping from the creatures maw to feed the roots of the tree.

Animal attacks were rarely something to brush off, but this one in particular stung in the way electricity might. It burned, seared, and scorched as the teeth buried so deeply into the arm that no sound could escape his chest, only the feeling of his jaw clenching hard enough that his teeth creaked. A flash of fear shoved its way into snipers mind, shouting that they didn’t have a doctor on hand. They didn’t even know if the teleported between America and Europe were running yet. What he did know was how long it took for an untreated wound to get infected. He did know how long it took for someone to bleed out.

Then suddenly the pressure was gone. The beasts jaw snapped open to let out a shrill cry, jumping to the side with a staggering limp. Fur began to dampen at its hip, and if the kukri now shining a slick red in scouts hand was any indicator, the wolf had forgotten it was a fight of two against one. A professional never missed an opening, and a hunter never misused his weapons. Sniper reached over his shoulder to his quiver to pull one of the thin rods forward.

An animals shriek echoed through the woods as the arrow found itself firmly lodged between two of the monsters ribs. Perhaps he shouldn’t have felt quite so satisfied when the monster shuffled further away, snapping down towards the thorn in its side, but the feeling of vindication was enough to get him moving.

“I told you!” Scout called, his first few paces back to base being backwards, still holding the knife outward at the wolf as it twisted and snapped at the pains between its chest and pelvis. As it turned out, panic and survival instinct proved very useful in weaving between trees and thickets, neither sparing a second to look back until the abandoned base was in view, and only stopped once the heavy sound of the doors slamming shut and locking echoed through the room.

The base was cold by now, but safe, and as the pair stood backs flush against the wall, breath coming in heavy, short bursts, the rush of the chase slowly wore off. visions of sharp teeth faded in favor of the bleak grey walls that surrounded them, and the chill of wind was replaced by the still coldness of a room not built for humans.

Scout was the first to come out of it properly, much to Snipers own surprise. His breathing was still shaky, but slowed to something resembling normal as a minute or so passed. He dropped the knife with a loud clatter and gave himself a quick pat down, apparently making sure everything was still there, and while he was relieved to see he was unharmed beyond bruises and scrapes, a glance at his companion revealed that the same could not be said in his case.

“Oh Jesus.” Scout muttered. looking down himself sniper had to agree that it was a fair assessment. The bite was deep, clearly showing torn muscle while thick rivers of blood lazily rolled down his arm and dropped to the floor. Sniper had seen enough viscera and gore in his life to remain unphased at gruesome maulings, but this felt different from any kind of mammals bite he’d gotten before. As feeling came back it reminded him more like the pierce of a vipers fangs, setting his nerves on edge with a feeling of hot pins and needles crawling up his arm and across his chest; the huntsman’s brain became addled and muddy, though if he had the chance to think logically he should have been more concerned about nerve damage and blood loss than any invasive thought of snakes. Seeing as how he wasn’t thinking logically though, he could only slide down the wall, landing with a heavy ‘thump’ against the concrete floor. Distantly he was aware that something was being said, though it was so indistinct he paid it no mind. He was tired, that was what mattered.Breathing grew shallow and slow, and the last image before darkness were those dark, terrible eyes staring back at him.

The first thing he was aware of was a loud rumbling from below. Eyes still closed, the distinct hum of an engine, and what must have been the rolling of gravel. Everything felt heavy, and even the slightest movements made his body ache in protest, only made all the more uncomfortable by the now familiar shifts and bumps of what could only be a car in motion. Sniper let out a low groan and ran a hand over his face, thankful for once that he didn’t have sunglasses blocking anything.

Across from him there was a loud ‘thud’, accompanied by an enthusiastic ‘oh thank god.’ coming from an all too familiar voice. He tried to blink away the burn in his eyes and sit up, though only managed to get himself propped up on his elbows. In that time scout had gotten up from where he’d been sitting and opened the window between the front seat and the cargo area of their truck

“Yo, sleepin’ beauty’s finally up” he called, earning a glare tossed back from the mentioned sleeper. Regardless, the response he got was genuine, and the relief in Engineers voice settled a slight tension in the hunters chest.

“well if that ain’t a relief I don’t know what is.” The southerners warm voice echoed back. “Hows he doin? Any problems we oughta stop for?”

“Uh, lemme check.” Scout responded, turning to speak directly at the prone marksman. “Hey, snipes, how ya feelin?”

“Like I want to turn your head into a fine pink mist and pass out again”

“He’s fine!” Scout cheered, getting a quiet laugh back, along with the sound of spy beginning to chide their engineer for worrying over nothing. Leaving them to bicker, scout took a few steps back in towards the center of the shipment container. Getting a look around there was actually very little inside, the largest item, save for a few gun cases, being a couple of boxes filled with ammo and scrap metal tied down along the walls. By the notches carved into the top of one of the medium ones, that had been where scout was waiting; though now it seemed the runner had decided it was more appropriate to sit at the gunmans side, jaw in hands as he gave sniper another once-over. Pushing himself to sit up properly sniper grimaced, finding his right side falter when put under pressure.

“Yeah, might not wanna stress that too much.” Scout commented, seeing how his teammate cringed at the slight movement. “Hard hat patched ya up as best as he could, but the docs gonna go ballistic once he sees what’cha got there. we still got some’a those tablets for pain if you wanna drop the tough guy act too. Speakin of: what the hell dude?!” Scout scolded, throwing his hands up. “why didn’t you tell anyone you’ve got a fainting problem like that? Scared the hell outta everyone” he asked, a tight frown carved firmly into the usually coltish face.

“I don’t.” Sniper huffed, adjusting to lean back against the wall as a dull throb began to knock at his head. “it was blood loss, if anything. Wouldn’t doubt if shock, and a concussion compounded it, at least if this headache means anything.” Not to mention how tired he still felt. He’d experienced all three plenty of times before, both separately and in combination, but this time in particular left him feeling exhausted in nearly every aspect. Scout seemed to mull over the answer, and after reaching into his pocket to pull out a small bottle with medics handwriting scrawled across the label, tried for a weak, but wide smile.

“You can say ya got scared, it’s ok.” He teased, dropping a few pills into snipers hand before dropping the bottle onto the sleeping bag the other was resting on. To his own surprise, sniper found a slight laugh bubble up, foggy and indistinct, but still present.

“Last I checked we were both scared out of our minds.” He huffed, taking the medicine dry. “But thank you for reminding me of that, I’ve actually got something to ask”

Scout perked up, inching a bit closer in interest.

“Yeah? Alright uh- ok what’s up?”

His answer came in the form of a firm punch to the shoulder, and a heavy glare.

“What in gods name is the matter with you?!” He exclaimed, feeling better as scout recoiled, holding the now bruising shoulder.

“Freakin hell, man, what in the shit was that for?!”

“Why’d you run off?” Was the quick response he got. Scout had the decency to look ashamed for at least a second before vibrato kicked back in and he puffed his chest, glaring sharply back.

“Well it wasn’t like anything was gonna happen any time soon! I was gone for what? A few minutes?”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“... fine! Fine. I heard somethin movin around and followed it. I didn’t know it was... well, yknow. *that*”

Sniper put his head in his hand, rolling slow circles into his temple.

“So you just... followed it. Without telling me. Scout you could’ve gotten hurt so much worse than this” he gestured to the arm hanging prone to his side.

“I didn’t though, did I?” Scout asked, to which sniper leveled him with an incredibly unamused face. “Fine, fine, I get it, ‘going into the woods alone is a bad idea.’ But you do it all the time, what makes you think I can’t handle it?”

“Because of that *thing* we ran into out there. If you’d been alone how would it have ended?”

Scout leaned further forward, taking his headset off to fiddle with the microphone.

“What was that thing anyways?” He asked, clearly unhappy at the images flashing through his mind as he elected to stare down at his headgear rather than sniper. With the argument momentarily stopped, the Aussie humored the thought, only to find that there really was no answer.

“Dunno.” He finally said, pulling his knees up to cross his arms over. “Looked like a giant wolf but it- it didn’t act like one. Usually wolves’re fairly scared of humans, they’ll turn tail more often than not, so to give chase like that and then attack its... it weren’t natural.” He sighed, a new worry of rabies making itself at home in his already spinning mind.

“Y’ever had a job in Romania before?” Scout asked, the question so out of pocket it threw sniper out of the quickly sloping spiral he was headed down.

“What?” He asked,

“I’m just saying, maybe that’s just what wolves’re like in Romania! Like breeds ‘a dogs. A Dalmatian’s a dog as much as a dachshund is, but they look totally different. So maybe this is just what a Romanian wolf looks like: fucked up and angry.”

A beat passed as sniper took in the suggestion. Sure, a wolf from Russia would look different from one found in India, but this one felt off in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Still, scout seemed hopeful that that was the case, and it wasn’t as if people had documented every animal in the world, so he sighed and pulled a slight smile- for both their sakes.

“Different breed then... tell ya what: once we get back I’ll look into it. But if nothing matches what we saw im using you as bait to catch one.”

“Wh- hey! it seemed to prefer you over me if you’re talking about a bite to eat! Thing probably thought you were a strip of beef jerky anyways.”

And despite the deep ache that had made its home in snipers bones, he let out a quick, easy laugh. For as much of a braggart the kid was, he at least knew how to cut tensions.

“Remind me why I tolerate you again?”

“Cause I got your hat and glasses back, dummy. Also I helped carry your gangly ass back here, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.” Scout answered, reaching somewhere behind him to produce the familiar old slouch hat and aviators, setting them beside his friend.

“I’ll thank ya when my arms not fulla holes anymore, hows that sound?” As if to punctuate he lifted his forearm, now seeing the patchwork of gauze wrapped together by what looked like grip tape. He was already dreading what medic would have to say about the macgyvered first aid, but at least the bleeding had stopped if the dried patch of red at the top was any indication.

The conversation continued on in much the same way for most of the ride, both sides deciding that if an argument was necessary then it could wait. At some point, sniper found himself lying back down, comfortably realizing the medicine had begun kicking in; silently appreciating how nice it was to be able to rest without sharp pains running from wrist to shoulder, and he assumed the dull ache that persisted through the rest of his body would dissipate in the next few minutes. It helped that he had something demanding attention to keep his mind off of it too.

By the time they had reached the base the sun was once again crawling beneath the horizon, and conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence with scout stifling the occasional yawn, and sniper adamantly trying to keep his eyes open. It didn’t last long however, seeing as he barely recalled the car stopping. After a groggy apology and assurance that really, he was feeling better, he gave a quick wave back before leaving for his own bed. He didn’t remember how he convinced Engie that they could wait to talk to medic until morning. Nor could he remember actually entering his van, or changing into a set of clothes that weren’t stained in blood and mud.

What he did remember, however, was how strange he thought it was that his the deep, dull ache in his bones had persisted despite the pain relief he’d taken.

[cherrywoes]

i. the girl in the foxes’ den.

chapter one. queen of shiratorizawa.

a/n: dedicated to @godjo​ because reasons :’) 

WHALE BONE HUGGED TIGHTLY at your ribcage, the silk ribbons of your corset pinching and pulling all of your body’s fat into your waist to the point where you could barely breathe past the stays. Bent over your vanity, fingers gripping the painted wood so firmly that your knuckles went white, you exhaled a shaky breath and pushed all of the air from your lungs as the maid pulled a final time. Tears squeezed past your lashes when she finished, adding an additional jerk to knot the bow tightly. You remained over the vanity even when she departed to your closet to retrieve a dress for you to wear for the evening, your breaths shallow and uneven. With each tiny inhale, you watched your chest—pushed past decent and bordering on obscene with the aid of extra fabric—rise and fall, and felt a red flush creep up your neck from the exertion.

“Your Highness, your dress for the morning.” You watched the maid lay a gorgeous gown upon the crushed velvet duvet on your bed through the mirror, the rich purple appearing like ripples of waves under the rays of sunlight peeking through your window. She patted it down and turned to face you, hands clasped primly in front of her like all the maids were taught, docile as if she hadn’t just forced you into a corset that was a few sizes too small for you. She’d dug that monstrosity out from your prepubescent teenage years and insisted you would fit into it. “You will be meeting with Sister Yui to discuss the rising number of—”

“I’m aware of what my schedule is,” you interrupted her, struggling to straighten your shoulders out to their fullest potential. There was an odd stiffness in your spine from the corset and you tried to appear as natural as possible, relaxing your abdominal muscles against the tight space. “What I want to know is news from my brother. Has there been any word from either he or Tendou?”

The maid had the nerve to shake her head and look disappointed for you rather than at you. You were offended that she had the gall to do it in front of you as well. “I’m afraid not, my lady. None of the messengers have been moved since yesterday.”

You stared at your face in the mirror and patted delicately at the perspiration dotting your forehead with a silk handkerchief. The room was hot—perhaps it was just you—and you were irritated. First with the maid, who had some spine on her to pity you, and now with your brother’s apparent lack of communication with the messengers. If Wakatoshi wasn’t seriously hurt, you were going to rip him a new one for ignoring all of your letters and indirectly putting you in charge of managing his affairs while he was away.

“Very well then.” Squinting in the mirror, you plucked at a stray hair near your eyebrow and fueled all of your inner rage into a placid mask of complacency and politeness. They should bow down on the ground and worship you for the effort it took to deal with the foolish people milling about you like clockwork. It certainly was an exhausting endeavor on its own. “And the harpies that are eating my breakfast on the veranda?”

The maid looked at you with quick, wide eyes. You just barely caught it in the mirror, loosely plucking at hairs that weren’t there, and lowered your hand to the vanity with a smug smile. You’d thought as much; it was far too quiet inside the palace for it to be just you and the staff present. There was someone else here, a multitude of someones, ones you hadn’t invited yourself. No, it was more likely that the woman who envisioned herself as Wakatoshi’s future Queen had invited herself and her entourage and simultaneously manipulated the entire staff into serving her as if she was the Queen. You could see the truth of it in the maid’s face.

You sighed and set down the tweezers in your hand, drumming your fingers against the vanity. Since you were already in a corset, there was no reason for you to make the torture you’d gone through worthless in the end, so you couldn’t wear one of the foreign dresses with gaping slashes from neck to navel just to shock them, but you had another plan in mind, one that would be equally as shocking, especially for a princess of your renown. You just had to show that try-hard Duke’s daughter what she would be competing against for the rest of her life: you.

For it to work, though… Your eyes went to the maid through the mirror again, contemplative, and she squirmed under your gaze. You needed the trust of the staff, which was obviously being swindled in that Duke’s daughter’s favor—they were all stupidly gullible when someone turned on the water works and begged for their help. No, you needed to get rid of her and do this on your own, or else they would warn them in advance.

“Leave,” you said airily, waving your hand towards the door and picking up a livid red shade of lipstick. The gold, spherical case cast your reflection back at you, as pristine as the day it had been gifted to you by the heir of the Haiba family, a famous producer of cosmetics among royalty. You were sure that Lev wouldn’t mind if you used his precious formula to put a gold digger in her place.

“I’m sorry?” The maid squeaked, then amended,”Your Highness?”

You turned around and raised your eyebrows, lipstick in one hand and the other pointing to the door. She just indirectly proved that she was obeying that bitch’s orders and not yours. “I told you to leave. Do I really need to repeat myself?”

“M-My Lady—”

“I said go,” you repeated, sauntering over to your fireplace and removing the sword mounted over it. It had been a gift from Wakatoshi, as avid a swordsman as ever, and still had a sharp edge to its blade. You had used it to cut off greedy fingers on more than one occasion and you had no issue with using it on a disrespectful maid’s face for questioning you.

She was gone before you even fully turned around. You heard her footsteps thumping against the marble floor in your room and outside the door, then down the hall, presumably to report to her new mistress how awful you were. Of course, your reputation as a meek, docile, and pacifistic woman was indestructible—no one would believe her even if she had solid proof. You and Wakatoshi had spread that little rumor yourselves, backed it up in public and in private, so no one would think twice about it, especially coming from a maid who had a lot to gain from slandering nobles.

This was how you worked. This was how Wakatoshi wanted you to work—to protect yourself from anyone who might wish to harm you or the kingdom. One wrong move and you could drag them down to the darkest pits of hell with no way to get out, wishing they were dead but completely at your mercy. You were Shiratorizawa’s trump card, their magnum opus; one wrong move against you was one wrong move against the entire kingdom.

And Kurotsuchi Yui had just made one disastrous move against you.

You had to admit, your plan would certainly raise eyebrows, but you were highly known for your adventures into fashion—it was all you wanted to do besides crush your enemies into smithereens—and, well, it wasn’t as if there weren’t more progressive kingdoms who wore equally as daring clothing in their day to day life. Shiratorizawa wasn’t one of them, but if you set your mind to it… It may just play a double edged sword.

Your plan cemented in your mind, you skipped over to your closet and immediately sought out your riding pants in the mess of silk, chiffon, and muslin. They were high quality, form hugging, and absolutely impolite to wear in normal company if you weren’t riding for the day, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t riding later on; you’d just have to ride your own horse to the orphanage instead of taking a carriage. It wasn’t  something to complain about, your muscles needed the workout anyways. Desk work was so gentle on the body, Wakatoshi complained, and you seconded that thought.

Your riding pants secured, you scoured your closet for that one blouse you had been gifted by a notorious lingerie designer down in the red district during your routine checks to make sure everyone was abiding by the new tax laws in place. It had been so scandalous that you had tossed it in your trunk without a second thought, face flaming red (this was also when you were younger, you would have never been so ashamed if it were recent). But now, you were going to put it to good use, and you prayed it still looked like it would fit. 

Pulling it out from the almost back of your closet, hidden behind absolute mammoth dresses from a time of ballgowns and petticoats, you grinned at your triumphant discovery, marveling in the delicate lace hem and high collar. It was as gorgeous as you remembered it and the perfect weapon to teach Yui a lesson.

Only… You stared at the collar of the shirt and the deep identical slashes in the arms to expose your shoulders, as well as cutouts in the sides to flash your hips to the world. Isn’t it a little too revealing?

It was too late now to back out of your plan, however. You had at least another twenty minutes before breakfast was over and the women scattered to various parts of the castle to conduct their own little ‘tours’ as if they were supposed to be there. You left your hair alone, as it was fine after running a brush through it, and only wore the smallest amount of makeup because you had an impression to make. Wakatoshi had told you that you looked intimidating when you wore a full face of make-up and wondered what your eagle form would be if you ever got it.

As you got dressed, you had to wonder if you would ever get your eagle form at all. Wakatoshi had gotten his at an early age, but that was typical for the men in your family. The women got theirs around eighteen or so, but you had yet to get yours, already in your twenties. You’d always wanted to experience the joy of flying, hearing stories from soldiers about how it felt to soar through the skies, and while Wakatoshi was more than happy to take you flying, it just wasn’t the same. It was your only disappointment to your mother in your entire life, one she never got over even on her deathbed. Your father was more considerate about it, having been born outside of Shiratorizawa, and treated you like he treated Wakatoshi: like his child. Your mother was not so kind.

You tugged the shirt over your head and let it settle over your body in a rush of fabric. It was tight and form fitting, not what you had expected from it off of the hanger, and somehow held the high collar in place. You couldn’t actually see the corset through it or the gaps in the sides, but you could tell you were wearing one by the way your chest was supported. Overall, it looked new, like you’d intended, and the complete opposite of the trends going on at the moment. If you could turn the tides, that would be just another thing to rub in Yui’s face.

Content with your choice, you tugged on your riding boots and strode out the door, snatching up your riding crop and leather gloves on the way out. You pulled your gloves on as you walked down the hall, clenching and unclenching your fists to break in the slightly new leather. There were no guards or maids in sight as you sauntered down the hallways; you could make out the faint laughter coming from the veranda, each high pitched cackle sounding suspiciously like Yui. Her laugh reminded you of a duck; cuck, cuck, cuck in the back of her throat, never from her chest, and it irritated both you and Wakatoshi whenever you heard it in polite company.

When you stepped out onto the veranda, you realized where all of your guards and maids had vanished to. They stood catering Kurotsuchi Yui and her group of crones, guarding them as if there was some threat to be had against their person, the only one of which was you if you could get your hands around one of their pretty little necks.

“And then I—Oh!” Yui noticed you as she was doing a cursory sweep of the women to make sure they were laughing along with her. The slight trepidation that crept in her voice had you smiling internally; you were the one in charge with Wakatoshi gone. “[Name], I didn’t think you were going to join us. I thought you had joined King Ushijima on his scouting retinue.”

That was an awful excuse and she knew it. There was always an Ushijima at Shiratorizawa when one was away, even a fool knew that. She was digging for crumbs of a reason and failing.

“Of course I wasn’t,” you blinked innocently. You took the only empty chair at the other end of the table, across from Yui at the head, and crossed your legs to rest your riding crop over your knee. “I don’t know where you got that idea from. I also don’t know where you got the idea that you’re welcome here.”

The girls sitting around Yui squirmed in their seats while Yui herself fumed.

“I’m the future Queen,” she informed, red flushing into her cheeks. “Everyone says so.”

“Do they really?” You deadpanned, reaching over and snatching up a piece of fruit from a platter. It was from the royal garden, an even greater offense; she was being served like a royal in the family. Your mother was rolling over in her grave at the slight. “It makes no difference to me because in the end, you’ll never be queen if I have a say in it. And you know I do, Yui.”

She was completely silent, glowering at you from across the table because she knew you were right.

“Anyway.” You tilted a glass of wine around, watching the dark red liquid swirl against the sides. “All of the maids who are here, you’re fired. Gather your things immediately and make your way to the royal gold minister and get your last pay. Knights, return to the barracks and switch out with the Elite Knights under the conception of manipulation.”

With that, you had effectively upped the rigidity of the palace and simultaneously stripped Yui of all of her support and backing in one fell swoop, just like an Ushijima should. She was shaking with anger when the maids and knights began their melancholy walk back inside the palace to make their way to their respective areas. 

“It was nice seeing you, Yui.” You stood up and smiled, gathering your riding crop and turning towards the building where your horse was being housed. “Hopefully I don’t have to see you again.”

The threat underlying it went unsaid: you would do worse next time.

Laughter bubbling up in your throat, you bit your lips and made your way to the stalls, the stablehand saddling up your gorgeous Perlino mare that Wakatoshi had gotten you for your fifteenth birthday. She was vicious and maternal and the best friend a girl could ask for; she had a slight biting issue with men, but that wasn’t something you felt like fixing. If anything, you encouraged it, relishing in the shocked expressions of the men who tried to impress you by showing you how to ‘handle’ a horse. It was the highlight of your day.

As you were riding towards the orphanage, a pair of Elite Knights at your side, you looked up in the sky and spotted an unusual number of eagle shifters soaring through the clouds at a breakneck pace. Assuming it was just Wakatoshi returning from his trip, you looked back down and focused on heading to the orphanage, unaware of the world shattering news that they carried with them…

And the announcement of the new Queen of Shiratorizawa.

MASTERLIST.

< PROLOGUE | TWO >

[skylarmoon71]

Tadashi Hamada Fanfiction -(Short Story) - Chapter 3

When you brought lunch for your brother he wasn't where he usually stayed. You entered. His lab, seeing his bag but not him. "Luke." your call was heard by someone. You heard a voice and a crash. Tadashi's head peeked from behind the table, rubbing his forehead. He bumped it when he heard you call. "A-Are you okay?" you rushed to his side. "I'm fine, I was looking for my screwdriver, Luke left to use the bathroom, he told me it was somewhere here but his lab is messier than mine." That was the truth. If you didn't clean every once in a while who knows what would grow there. You plucked his hat off, resting it on the table. "Let's see about that bruise, then I'll help you look for your screwdriver."

"Alright." he said with a low laugh. He moved to take a seat on the couch, and you walked to the small fridge in, pulling out an ice pack. "It's a good thing I leave some of these here for when I get muscle pains." you were making your way back to Tadashi, unfortunately you didn't catch sight of the very tool he was looking for, hidden under a sheet of paper. You stepped on it, skidding. "Waoh!" the ice pack flew from your hands and you stumbled forward.

"(Y/N)!" Tadashi reached out grabbing you and the both of you tumbled to the couch. You winced, and Tadashi grunted at the impact. When you finally gathered yourself you opened your eyes. You were face to face with him. You pulled in a slow breath.

"S-Sorry.." you apologized. "I-It's okay." he replied. That was the first time you'd seen Tadashi look unsure. His breathing was just as unsteady. You were the one who pulled back, eyes downcast, tugging at your shirt. Neither of you looked at the other, clearly both embarrassed at the incident. That's when Luke walked in. You didn't know he was even in the room until you heard him start talking.

"Hey, what's with you two?"

"N-Nothing!" you blurted.

Safe to say neither of you looked at the other for the rest of the evening. You liked Tadashi, you really did. He was smart, kind, funny, goofy. Everything you wanted, you were just afraid your brother would go all protective. If things got weird between all of you it would kill you. You loved hanging out in the lab, and you're new friends. So, you did what you thought you had to. You ignored your feelings. It was just a little crush anyway, it would go away eventually. At least that's what you tried to convince yourself.

~~~~

Through one of your many visits you stopped by Tadashi's lab. You sort of expected Luke to be there too but he wasn't. Tadashi however was on his knees, screwing in some bolts in a red square that resides on his floor.

"Hey Tadashi." his head lifted. "Oh, hey (Y/N), gimme a sec." you took a seat, watching as he finished up doing whatever it was to the red machine. He stood with a victorious smile. You giggled at his appearance. His hat was twisted in a weird angle, a few dark smudges of grease on his forehead and forearms. His red shirt had a bit on it as well. He looked to see what you were giggling at, and started laughing himself when he saw his state.

"Very funny (Y/N), laugh it up but this is the price us geniuses have to pay."

"It's a good thing I prefer sports." you ever the opposite of your brother. Where he strives in technology, you mirrored in sports. You were an active athlete, and you loved it. When you got done with your practices you always came by to see him because you knew if you didn't pull him away from his experiments he'd work through the night.

Your training bag was right at your feet as you reached down to get a few of your wet wipes. When you got them out you moved in Tadashi's direction. Without a word you started wiping the grease from his forehead. Tadashi watched you, not saying a word. You seemed to be in your own little world. You readjusted his cap. "That's better. " when you looked up Tadashi was gazing at you, you took a step back, cheeks darkening.

"Oh crap I'm sorry! I-I just I guess I'm just so used to taking care of Luke and I-”

"It's fine (Y/N)." Tadashi assured, seizing your ramblings. You were glad, you really liked hanging around Tadashi, you would hate it if you ended up making things weird.

"Why did he decide to make that necklace, I never really asked him?" Tadashi asked. Your head lowered. "It's not really something he likes talking about." Tadashi immediately regretted asking.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me if it's personal I was just curious."

"It's okay, it really isn't that bad it's just, our dad used to get really sick when we were younger. One time he had a stroke and Luke was with him. My dad recovered but Luke was terrified. He thought our dad was gonna die. After that he buried himself into technology, he insisted he'd find the cure for every disease. Our parents are fine now, they live on the other side of town, not too far from our apartments. I guess My dad was my brother's main motivation. "

"I understand, I know what that's like." you could tell there was a deeper meaning behind his words. But you didn't question him. If you recalled before he said he lived with his aunt. He never really mentioned his parents. It must have been painful for him to talk about. Whenever he was ready he'd tell you.

"So anyway what are you working on." a shift in the subject seemed like the best choice. The light returned to his eyes and he moved to the red machine. "This is my newest invention." The red machine didn't do much, so you looked at Tadashi expectantly. He chuckled.

"Ow!" he yelled. Nothing happened at first, then you heard the sound of something inflating. You stared in amazement at the white marshmallow looking robot growing right before your eyes.

"It's black orbs blinked. "Hello. I'm Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."

It waddled forward, and you were fighting the urge to just run over and attack it with hugs.

"I'm still filling in it's programming, but very soon, he'll be the perfect nurse robot. He's gonna help a lot of people." Tadashi's eyes shone, staring back at the ball of cuteness.

You couldn't take it anymore. You ran into it hugging Baymax tightly.

"You're so cute!!" you cooed. Tadashi seemed surprised, but started laughing when Baymax wrapped his plump hands around patting your back. "There, there." he spoke.

You giggled, wishing your brother would make adorable inventions like this.

When you pulled back, Baymax's head leaned to the side. "We're satisfied with our care Baymax." at the instruction from Tadashi, Baymax waddled back to the red box, stepping into it.

He started to deflate and you sighed. "I'd get one just to cuddle." you said. Tadashi's eyes moved back at you.

"I had no idea you like cute things, maybe I should design all my inventions like that so you'd stop by more often." your face got red at that. 

"Q-Quit kidding around. "

"I'm serious." you looked at him, taken aback by the warmth in his stare, directed right at you.

You gulped, taking an unsteady step backwards as you looked down fiddling with your fingers.

"T-Tadashi I-" when you raised your head he was directly in front of you. Whatever you were about to say was lost on you, he was just standing too close, admiring you.

"If I'm being honest with myself, you're amazing (Y/N)." Tadashi's words caused your heart to hammer.

"(Y/N) I need-" your brother froze at the entrance, watching you and Tadashi standing a little too close. His expression changed and you stumbled back, grabbing your bag as you rushed out.

You sped past Luke before he could say anything.

[amayamiyaki]

I recently got into writing angst. It's different than what I usually write but its always good to branch out of your comfort zone and learn try something new! So here's an angsty Shisui/Sakura oneshot!

If you're interested in sending me a prompt, please feel free to, along with the Sakur-pairing of your choice!

Title: Izana

Characters/Pairings: Shisui/Sakura

Rating: General

Prompt(s): meeting, hollow, binding

Izana

He's late.

Ironic for a man who’s compared to wind and lighting, but Shisui brushes aside the frustration that nips at the side of his neck. War waits for no one, after all—not even him.

Sliding off his mount, Shisui hands the reins of his steed to the attendant by the door and toes the sandals from his feet all in one movement, before slipping inside the teahouse. He hurries through the corridors, mindful of his swords as he passes the workers, smiling and tilting his head, searching, until the thundering laughter of his uncle catches his ear. A smile, true and soft, settles on his features, and he follows the voices until he reaches a set of doors manned by the wait staff. They bow to him, murmuring their welcomes but he can hardly hear them over the excited beating of his heartbeat. And when the doors part, it takes more control than he’d ever care to admit, to keep from rushing inside.

"Ah, there he is!” His uncle bellows, hand gesturing to him. Shisui bows lowly to his clan head, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the women whispering to his side.

"My apologies, Uncle," Shisui began. "The meeting with Uzumaki-san went on longer than anticipated."

"It is of no concern," Madara replied with the wave of his hand. He appears unbothered—happy, even. "Sit. No more talks of war with women around."

Shisui straightens from his bow and makes his way towards his cousins, falling into the seat beside Itachi with a relieved sigh. Itachi pushes a choko towards him worth the side of his hand, observing him with a look of knowing.

"Uchiha Shisui, late,” He teases. “I never thought I'd see the day."

Shisui grasps the porcelain with a huff. "You know how the Uzumaki can get. They get lost in their thoughts more often than not."

Itachi hums but doesn't comment further, busying himself with the sake against his lips. However, that doesn't stop Sasuke. "Those fools enjoy the sound of their own voices."

"Sasuke." Itachi's voice is soft, but the scold is clear.

The two brothers share a bicker, their conversation veering towards swords and training and other things he can't find himself caring about; because how can he when his uncles share a laugh over the blush of the beautiful woman positioned between them?

She’s draped in scarlet silk and spirals of plum blossoms, her skin painted an ethereal white with brushes of pink and her rosy hair drawn up with glittering kanzashi. Her collar is red, the kind of crimson that makes Shisui think of war and death and fire—all things that he can’t even bear to imagine associating with her because she’s too beautiful for anything less than Amaterasu’s gardens.

Her Oneesan calls her Sakura.

She says her name with so much pride, smiles without restriction and tilts her glass encouragingly at the young girl who smiles back. Looking at her makes something within him burn—something wild and dangerous and wonderful.

"Won't you dance for us?" He hears Izuna ask. "You know Madara's heart only warms when you do."

The tease is innocent, Shisui knows, watching with a tight chest as the pretty Maiko beside him sets a gentle hand atop Madara's shoulder. But it still doesn't mean much to his heart.

"Izuna-san," She reprimands, though not unkindly. "Madara-san's heart is always warm. Can't you tell from the blush on his face?"

Madara turns away, but the corner of his lips curl with a hint of mirth "It's the sake, I assure you."

Sharing a sly look with the rosette and her Oneesan, Izuna’s hand comes down hard on Madara’s shoulder, making the elder of the two jerk forward. “Yes, yes. The pretty women on your arms have nothing to do with it.”

Perhaps it’s jealousy that makes Shisui’s knuckles whiten. He always was prone to jealousy. All Uchiha were. It’s in their blood, after all.

Sakura waves her hands and tilts her head, hiding her giggle behind her hand as Izuna teases his older brother, and it kills him, because those smiles are his. He owned them the moment he laid eyes on her—back when she was a fresh Maiko, dancing to the melancholy thrum of a koto and the hum of cherry blossoms in Spring skies.

He brings the sake to his lips, hoping to wash away the taste his uncles’ affection leaves in his mouth, when their eyes meet—pine and evergreen against wintry steel—and suddenly his chest feels less hollow.

The smile she wears now is his. He knows it. He feels it as deeply as his bones because that’s the smile she gifts him when he holds her in his arms, hidden in the shadows behind her okiya. It’s the same smile she gives him when he folds her hair behind her ear and kisses her brow.

It’s his and only his.

So his eyes soften and the jealousy resides, folding neatly into a little box at the base of his stomach. Shisui watches as Sakura finally acquiesces to their playful demands. Although her name is rooted in earth, she stands with the fluidity of water, walking in that way that makes the train of her kimono sway like a rippled pond. Then she stands at the front of the room, exactly where she’s meant to be.

Rawbone fingers pluck at a shamisen, the koto purrs; and Sakura dips her head to expose the unmarked skin at the back of her neck. It makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch, and one glance at his younger cousins prove he isn’t the only one pleased with the sight. His uncles hum around their tobacco pipes, hands waving at the smoke that flitters into their faces, greedily taking in the graceful bow of their pretty dancer while his cousins shift in place. But it isn’t until she lifts her gaze to him once more, revealing something beautiful in those beryl eyes, that Shisui finds his chest truly bound.

She clutches the sleeve of her furisode, tugging it back to reveal a sliver of her pale wrist and the glitter of her fan. She rolls onto her toes, turning so her shoulder faces them, peers at them from the corner of her eye; then she gently waves her fan in a way that upturns her wrist.

She tells him a story—a story about a fleeting beauty that imprints his heart.

Her fan, spread wide, flutters and sways, traveling downwards. Then she taps it, creating the thunderous sounds of rainfall. She demurely hides her face with it, stepping towards the left, then again to the right. Then she lifts the fan above her head, shielding her petal locks from the showering rain. She lowers the fan to face the front of her, folding it inwards from both sides before reaching into the air with greedy fingers.

She draws the sunlight with her fingers, painting a vision of blooms and wind—the beginnings of Spring. He holds her fan tightly now, flat and with both hands, similar to how he holds his blade in its sheath, then pulls her hands apart to reveal a blade; she poses with it crossed over her shoulder.

The scene is different, he realizes. He recognizes the way she unravels her fan, tilting it as if she’s pouring sake, how she spreads it open like the petals of her namesake, before presenting it as a tray. He recognizes it, because it’s their story.

Her dance speaks of their romance, the lyrics her Oneesan sings purring of the way he had charmed her. She loves him, but never says it—she never does, even when their fingers intertwine beneath burning candles.

And it makes his chest hurt because he wants and wants and wants to hear her say it. No one knows. No one understands. Because to them, it’s a dance but to him, it’s a confession.

With the flick of her wrist, a second fan appears with an abrupt snap. The curves of her fan point inwards and she makes them flutter, like the wings of a butterfly. She lowers to her knees then, her smile more prominent than before. Her movements become more confident, more powerful if that’s possible. She connects her fans, creating one large one that makes him think of the insignia emblazoned across his back, rocking it back and forth above her head and spinning as she rises.

It makes him breathless.

The scene changes again, the music dropping into something quieter, more ominous while her expression hardens. Her fingers loosen from her left fan, making it dangle like a bud on a branch, then she twirls it, slowly turning on her heel with her right fan drawing the sunrise. She leans back, almost in a curtsey with her right fan poised above her head and the left in front of her, transiently similar to the way he wields his swords.

A battle comes in the morning.

Something creeps along the nape of Shisui’s neck, nuzzling him uncomfortably as he watches Sakura’s dance. Beside him, Itachi’s fingers tighten into his hakama and Sasuke’s chest is still. He chances a glance at his uncles to find all three leaning forward, so entranced in the Maiko’s romance that they don’t notice the emptiness of their glasses or the falling ashes of their tobacco.

She tucks her fans into her obi; hides her knuckles in her sleeves and pulls them to cover her body, tilting her head from side to side before lifting her hands in offering. She turns again as bells chime, revealing the spider lilies embroidered along the hem of her elaborate obi and the mountain painted into her neck. She stomps on the tatami, hands smoothly rolling to the side like swaying branches, then turns to the side, peering at them over her shoulder with the faintest upcurve of her scarlet lips.

And then her movements are frantic.

She moves to the left, then to the right, jolting forward before reeling back as if surrounded. Her expression is harrowed, brows knit tight as she faces enemies only she can see. Her shoulders become limp, her posture withdrawn; her arms sway from front to back almost lifelessly.

And then she draws the curls of raging waves with her fans.

Shisui sucks in a breath as he watches her left fan drop. She clutches the one fan between both hands now, slowly unraveling it like the petals of a flower.

Sakura turns back the way she came until she faces them again. She closes the fan again, her head canting side to side and expression somber. She looks lost. Hollow. And then she holds the fan like a knife, points it towards her belly as she slowly peers up at the heavens, and Shisui swears real tears glitter in her eyes in those seconds before they close.

And so the blossoms fall, so thickly they form clouds.

The music fades to an end and she comes to a stop with her head bowed and her fan poised. Shisui finds himself so entranced, that all he can do is stare—remembering himself only when the other men in the room applaud and coo.

“She’s wonderful,” Madara praises, clapping. And it stuns him, because Madara had never cared for geisha before. “Your Imouto’s dances get more and more intricate with every day, Tsunade.”

The blonde woman laughs as she refills his glass, eyes flickering towards her prodigy, who is already smoothing out her kimono. “Thank you, Uchiha-sama. Sakura is a special girl.”

“A special girl indeed,” Fugaku speaks up. “With a gift of storytelling.”

“One would think her tears were real,” Kagami agrees.

“You both must come to our compound,” Izuna insists. “Celebrate with us tomorrow night, after we’ve finally taken reign of Danzo’s castle.”

The young Maiko floats when she walks, and it’s with a displeased wilt that Shisui realizes that even though she sits beside him, it isn’t him that she sits with, but his youngest cousin. She doesn’t look at him, but Shisui can see the tremble in her fingers as she pours Sasuke’s sake. She acts as if there’s nothing between them, yet presses the side of her thigh into his.

It’s subtle, so fleeting that Shisui could convince himself it was a trick of his imagination. But then she does it again, and he knows.

So even though it isn’t him that she pours her sake for, or him that she charms with coy looks and her sharp tongue, he knows her heart belongs to him. He’ll tell her tomorrow—how much he loves her—after he storms Himura castle and takes the head of the man who killed his father.

He’ll tell her he loves her, and buy her freedom with his spoils. He'll spend the rest of his life traipsing through gardens of her favorite flowers, braiding the hair of the daughters she'll gift him. He'll give her every thing she so desires.

.

.

.

A shame he tells her with his dying breath.

[seonghwahugs]

two black cadillacs

inspired by carrie underwood’s song of the same name. not proofread.

cw for murder/homicide, cheating

♟♟♟

Two black Cadillacs driving in a slow parade

Headlights shining bright in the middle of the day...

Hyunjin adjusted his tie, foot settled on the brake pedal as the procession prepared to move. Despite sitting directly behind the hearse carrying the body of his late husband inside he felt no loss, no pain, there was no need to grieve. Behind him was another car identical to his own, a 1969 black Cadillac. Who would’ve thought that the other man would own the same car. It was only four in the evening yet it felt so much later, the cloud cover darkening the world around them. 

The procession lasted about half an hour, the drive usually much longer with traffic. But, as a funeral procession, the laws of the road were bent and broken to accommodate them. To accommodate the supposedly grieving family, the hearse carrying their body. 

If only his family knew what he was hiding.

Hyunjin stepped out of the car, adjusting his long coat and veil. It was unusual for a man to wear a veil but he was always known to do things how he felt was right, not abiding by the standards set around him. It was one of the many reasons he and his husband had fallen in love, bonding over their desire to make their own path and not follow that of another person. He made his way to his mother in law, embracing her as she cried and held him close.

If only she knew what they were both hiding.

Two months ago, his wife called the number on his phone…

“I need to shower, it was a long sweaty day.” His husband had said with a playful smile, leaving a kiss upon his forehead. Hyunjin made a sound of mock disgust as he came close, waving his hand in front of his nose with an exaggerated ‘ew, you smell!’ He couldn’t contain his laugh though, pulling his husband down for a true kiss, melting into the hand that cupped his cheek. 

“I’m going now.” His husband said as he pulled away, walking up the stairs to the master bath for a much needed shower. Hyunjin took this time to grab his phone from the coffee table and typed in the passcode, opening the phone app and searching through his recent calls. There were multiple calls made to a single unsaved number, most of them when Hyunjin was already asleep or on days he was out at work. He’d been suspecting something for weeks but his stomach dropped at the thought of his suspicions being correct.

Slipping out to the front porch he hit the green call button, gnawing on the edge of his thumb as the phone rang once, twice, three times, finally being answered on the fourth ring.

“Ah, babe, I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to call this early! I was just about to make some dinner, would you-”

“Who is this?” Hyunjin cut the other man off, his voice cold yet shaky. “Who are you to call my husband babe?”

There was a beat of silence before he got a reply. 

“Husband? He..he said he was single..said the man in his photos was an ex boyfriend from high school…” The man’s voice sounded a bit fearful. “I swear to you I’m not a homewrecker, he told me he didn’t have anyone else!”

Hyunjin stayed quiet for a while, thinking over what to say. Everything was beginning to make sense, all the nights he’d wake up in a cold bed, the extended work days, the constant overtime with no extra pay (despite his company policy stating that all overtime was paid.)

“How long?”

“Have we been together?”

“Yeah, how long?”

“Seven months. He..actually just proposed to me a week and a half ago. It looks like a pretty expensive ring too-” 

Hyunjin let out a humorless laugh. “So that’s where our money went, lying bastard. He told me his friend needed to borrow some for car repairs. And I didn’t question it, his friend has two little ones and taking the bus with them is a hassle.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling.

“What’s your name? We may as well know who he’s been with.”

“Lee Minho.”

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Hwang? But isn’t his surname Yeo?” 

“He’s not going to be my husband much longer. I’m not keeping his last name.” 

“Understandable.” There was a long pause from the other, as if he was thinking about something, processing.

They decided then, he’d never get away with doing this to them

Two black Cadillacs waiting for the right time, the right time

“What if we handle this ourselves?” He finally asked, a dark edge to his voice. Hyunjin knew that kind of tone, knew what he was insinuating. And damn, he’d never think to do something like that but he couldn’t deny that it sounded awfully tempting. 

“I’ll text you from my number. Let’s meet, you and I.”

The two made their way over to the set up chairs and Hyunjin held the woman’s hand tight, whispering a soothing ‘it’s okay mama, he’s in a better place now. No one can hurt him anymore.’ After about ten minutes of everyone seating themselves and the preacher making his way to the podium, it was time to give the eulogies. 

And the preacher said he was a good man…

“Today we are gathered to lay to rest one of the best men I’ve ever known.” 

And his brother said he was a good friend…

“My brother, you see, he was an amazing friend. Outgoing and loveable-”

But the women in the two black veils didn't bother to cry…

Everyone around Hyunjin was crying, whether it was loud and sniffly, or a silent tears-and-shoulder-shaking cry. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t dare cry for that man, not after what he did, how he treated him. Months of lying after they’d agree honesty was the most crucial part of their marriage. When it came time for the burial Hyunjin stood, his disinterested gaze hidden by the dark veil over his face. It’s not like anyone would question his way of ‘mourning’, why would they? Who would think to question the deceased man’s husband?

They took turns laying a rose down…

Hyunjin’s eyes scanned the crowd of people, landing on an unfamiliar man standing in the back, a veil covering his face as well and an umbrella in his hand. 

Lee Minho.

Hyunjin nodded for him to come closer, the two gently plucking roses from the pile and laying them on the casket before stepping away to allow others to follow suit. 

“Funny meeting you here.” Minho remarked softly, Hyunjin’s lips twitching up at his monotone voice making such a remark. 

“Thought I wouldn’t see you after that day.” Hyunjin admitted, turning to look at him. While their eyes were hidden it wasn’t hard to see the crimson red on their lips through the fabric. 

“I know. But..I doubt we’ll see each other after this. I’m moving out of the country with my godson, he wants to attend an international high school in France but his parents can’t leave work.” Minho explained. “And, well, it was my car that did it that night, even though you were driving.” 

The two didn’t plan to meet for coffee, or a meal, or anything domestic like that. They planned to meet only to end things between them and the man they shared. Hyunjin tricked his husband into thinking they were going on a date, a surprise that the younger man had planned for him. 

It would be quite a surprise.

They chose an old bar, a wide alleyway behind it that separated it from an old, abandoned apartment complex. No cameras, no lights, nothing that could identify them. Minho waited around the corner in the passenger seat of his car, leaving it running for the other. It was his husband after all, he should be the one to step on the gas. 

Hyunjin parked his Cadillac further behind Minho’s, stepping out of the car and linking arms with his husband. They strode past Minho, the two sharing a look before Hyunjin began speaking to his husband. 

“We’re going in the back door, I know someone here and she’s going to give us a private room. I know waiting in an alley is...kinda gross but it won’t be long.” He explained as they turned into the dark alleyway, walking to the end of it.

“Darling you’ve led me into weirder situations, if we get a private room-” He slid his hands down his hips, “then it’s a-okay with me.” 

Hyunjin only winked and gave him a sickly sweet smile, toes curling in his boots since he couldn’t clench his fists. They stood there for a couple minutes, the cold biting their skin before the long haired male gasped. 

“Ah hell, I left my wallet! I’m going to go get it and I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t take too long! I don’t want to miss you too much.” His husband smiled, pulling him in for a quick kiss. 

“I won’t be long, just wait here.” And with that Hyunjin was gone, dashing out of the alleyway. He all but ran to Minho and his Cadillac, sliding into the driver’s seat and sucking in a deep breath. The two men were quiet for a minute before daring to do something they’d never thought they would, leaning in to share a deep kiss. 

“I guess this is it, isn’t it? We’re really doing this?” Hyunjin asked against Minho’s lips, holding his hand and slotting their fingers together.”

“This is it. Once we do this, there’s no going back.” Minho whispered, kissing him again before sitting back in his seat and slipping his seatbelt on. “Put your belt on, he’s the only one getting hurt tonight.”

Hyunjin clicked his belt into place, put the car in drive, and circled the corner. 

The man didn’t even have time to scream.

“That it was. But..I would like to see you at least one more time.” Hyunjin whispered before walking away.

Threw a handful of dirt into the deep ground…

Minho followed closely behind the now widowed man, the two taking turns throwing a handful of dirt on the now lowered casket. They took one last look at it and walked away, allowing others to do the same.

He’s not the only one who had a secret to hide…

They knew life wouldn’t be the same. If they were caught they’d be charged with murder, and even if they exceeded the fifteen year limit they would still live with it on their conscious. But what was done was done and that was the end. No going back. No second chance. They did have each other though, if they wanted, if they were willing.

The two shared a crimson smile and just walked away…

The two waited until they were sure no one was looking, lifting their veils for a mere second to share a kiss, letting them fall back to cover their faces once again. With a dark, thin lipped smile they walked away from each other, towards their separate Cadillacs. No one noticed when the two departed together, tailing each other. 

And left the secret at the grave.