#i will smash this man with all the force of that chandelier hitting the ground mark my words

[mintymiknow]

Trust Fall - Finale | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: The final battle takes place, and Minho must make decisions that could cost him everything once more. The finale puts both his and your trust to the test, and one can only wait to see who falls. 

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 7.4k

Warnings for this chapter: Genre-typical violence and blood due to action/fight scenes

A/N: The last chapter is here! It’s been such a ride with this series; it was a bit stressful and challenging to write, but I really enjoyed it nonetheless. I’m also very happy to know that you all enjoyed as well, and I really appreciate your patience and support throughout this series! I hope the finale doesn’t disappoint...I tried my best to make it as good as possible. There are a lot of loopholes, I’m so sure, but thank you nonetheless! Here’s the last chapter! Have fun, and don’t hesitate to drop an ask for any questions or comments!

Four men fight in the hotel’s back lobby, each one struggling to ensure that they don’t end up like the dead men on the floor. Their guns are scattered on the now bloodied marble floors, out of ammo and useless. Instead, the four men focus on using their fists, displaying their hand-to-hand prowess as a result of tedious training and experience. Chan fends off with Jung, while Changbin fights a man named Ahn - this quiet individual was known as Jung’s right-hand man in SKZ.

Ahn swings a knife at Changbin, silent as always. Changbin easily evades it, grabbing the blade despite the edge piercing his skin. With enough force mustered, Changbin yanks the blade, causing Ahn to stumble forward. The agent then swings his leg, hitting Ahn’s ankle. The enemy falls to the floor, and Changbin takes the chance to lunge the knife at him. However, Ahn recovers and knocks the knife out of the agent’s hand, gripping at his wrists as they wrestle for an upper-hand over each other.

Meanwhile, Jung has Chan on a choke-hold, directing the agent to look at where Changbin and Ahn are scuffling with each other on the floor. “You had me fooled, Bang Chan. I thought you were loyal to me.” Jung laughs.

Chan elbows the elder and manages to break free from his hold, taking a few steps away, “I was at first...until Minho discovered what you were really up to.”

“I’m curious...how long did he know?”

“Since Jiyeon.” Chan says flatly, “He was already suspecting her for a while after they started dating. He thought that you were covering up for her because she was your favorite agent, but when you gave the order to kill her, Minho knew.”

“Oh?” Jung lunges for Chan with some punches.

“What kind of father allows an agent to kill his daughter?” Chan blocks Jung’s punches, “Simple. A father so obsessed and driven by his involvement with the enemy that he’d do anything to keep that a secret.”

“So Lee figured that out, too huh? Not many people knew Jiyeon was my daughter.” Jung continues to fight.

Chan does as well, smirking slightly, “Minho is very perceptive and resourceful.”

“And does y/n know this?”

“Minho believes some things are better left unsaid.”

Jung then pounces at Chan, knocking him down on the floor. He clambers on top of the agent, ready to pull more punches. However, Chan head-butts the elder with his forehead, the force knocking Jung back and allowing the agent to push him off and get back up on his feet. The two men then resume their fight, a mix of skillful and agile maneuvering, punching and kicking.

Changbin manages to land a punch on Ahn’s face - and he’s sure that broke his nose, judging by the way blood trickled from his opponent’s nostrils - before running up the lobby’s staircase. Ahn grunts, quickly following the agent. The two resume their battle, and Ahn trips Changbin, using his extreme strength to lift Changbin and toss him towards the coffee table on the second floor. The agent lands on the surface with a grunt, hissing as he quickly sits up. A few wooden splinters stick to the side of his body, but he manages to stand up, spitting some blood onto the floor.

He glares at Ahn who has the same intense expression. They then run at each other, using as much force to try and push each other down. Ahn is much stronger, taking advantage of Changbin’s injury to make him stumble back with a shove. Unfortunately for Ahn, Changbin stumbled back towards a shelf that had several ornaments and vases. Taking the chance as Ahn speeds towards him, Changbin grabs a vase and smashes it onto his opponent’s head. Ahn hisses as he gets disoriented, not having time to catch his bearings as Changbin grabs his collar. With furrowed eyebrows and flaming eyes, Changbin pushes the man off the balcony, watching as Ahn falls to the first floor with a sickening thud.

Changbin runs down the stairs, checking Ahn’s pulse. As he is sure that his opponent is surely unconscious - but not dead, Changbin grabs handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffs Ahn’s wrists. He stands up, scanning the room for any sign of Chan and Jung, only to see that the two males are still fighting.

Jung tries to stab Chan with a knife in his hand, but the agent proves his strength by keeping Jung’s weapon away from him. Though it’s strenuous, Chan manages to force the blade out of Jung’s hands, promptly pushing the elder off of him. He gets up, positioned and ready to resume fighting with his fists. The older man lunges at Chan, but the latter is fortunately able to pivot in time, grabbing Jung’s wrists. Chan makes one strong tug, bringing Jung close so that he could knee him in the abdomen. He follows up with another kick, watching us Jung stumbles back.

With Jung still recovering his bearings, Chan swiftly charges at the elder, delivering a powerful kick that has the elder crashing into a small wooden table, grunting in pain as it snaps in half. Perhaps it was age, but it takes a moment for Jung to regain his bearings, slowly trying to get up with difficulty. Also, Chan’s strength was no joke either way. “You truly are one of the best agents.” Jung snickers.

Chan frowns, eyebrows furrowed in irritation, “Unfortunate that you were the one who trained us in our earlier days.”

Jung eventually stands on his feet, mustering all his strength to run towards Chan, intent on beating him down. However, as he sprints across the room, Chan pulls out a gun, pulling the trigger at the chandelier above. Without much time to react, Jung can only look up as the intricate lighting drops at him. He tries to step away, but it’s too late as the chandelier crushes his leg, trapping him in place. He hisses in pain, glaring at Chan. As if reading the elder’s mind, Chan deadpans, “I ran out of bullets, but I picked up a spare gun from these...bodies.”

Jung huffs a breath out, trying to yank his leg away from the heavy chandelier, but Changbin is already behind him, binding his wrists with handcuffs. The younger agent says sharply, “You’re just getting what you deserve, sir.”

Chan sighs, loosening the tie around his neck, “We should follow Minho as soon as back-up arrives.”

Changbin nods, striking Jung’s pressure point to render him unconscious. “Alright, got it.” the younger states, letting Jung’s unconscious body fall to the floor.

Unfortunately for Minho, Choi and Baek’s back-up arrived faster than he anticipated. The two older men hide behind their flat-tired vehicle while their agents face off with him.

Minho starts with the first two, pocketing his gun and opting to use his physical combat skills at his disposal. It was easier than he expected, in all honesty; even Jeongin was more skilled than these so-called bodyguards. The agent exchanged a little hand-to-hand combat with the rest of his opponents. One enemy tries to punch Minho’s face, but quickly reacts, pivoting as he grabs the opponent’s wrist. With calculated ease, Minho twists the opponent’s arm and delivers a decisive knee to his abdomen, causing the enemy to crumple on the ground. Minho finishes it off with another knee to the face, rendering one enemy unconscious.

Another man charges at Minho with a flurry of punches and kicks that were more calculated than the last opponent’s. The agent expertly blocks all the enemy’s attempts, occasionally swinging a few strikes himself. With one particular punch, Minho ducks and grabs his opponent’s arm, gripping tightly to flip him over. The enemy lands on his back with a sickening crack, groaning in pain as Minho pulls his gun out to knock him out with one shot.

The third opponent swings his leg below, causing Minho to fall to the ground as well. This particular opponent manages to land a punch that has Minho’s lip bleeding. However, the agent isn’t done, unfazed with his split lip as he kicks his foot upwards, knocking his opponent back. Minho is quick on his feet, already standing up just as his opponent steadies his footing. The man throws a knife at Minho who easily dodges it. The agent then pulls his gun out, shooting the third opponent twice for good measure.

Craning his neck as if it were strained, Minho glares at the remaining enemies. However, he notices that Choi is nowhere to be found. He decides to chase the man later and would deal with Baek for now; after all the traitor was grinning at him wickedly - he definitely had something up his sleeve.

Minho glares, “If you surrender now, I’ll ensure you have a quick and painless death.”

Baek laughs, shaking his head, “Nice try, kid, but that’s not going to work.”

The scientist pulls out his own gun, shooting at Minho with surprisingly accurate shots. It catches the agent off-guard for a split second, but he recovers and swiftly evades the bullets. One bullet, however, manages to hit Minho's shoulder, and he winces upon contact. Still, he pays no attention to it as he aims his own gun at Baek. The two men then begin their shoot-out, each person able to land a shot or two on each other. There was too much open space in this area, and Minho was still careful to ensure that innocent people wouldn’t get hit by stray bullets; they were, after all, still in Jeju.

Baek then surprises Minho again by discarding his empty gun and charging at him with surprising speed. It takes Minho a second to register, managing to block Baek’s punch with just milliseconds to spare. Baek is stronger than he looks, the force of his swings making Minho take a few steps back. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Agent Lee.” Baek mocks, “You aren’t the only agent SKZ produced that was gifted with combat.”

Minho glares, swinging a few punches and kicks that Baek blocks and evades as well, “Nice to know that scientists can fight too.”

“I was an agent before a scientist, Agent Lee.” Baek snickers, “Jung and I go way back.”

Minho ignores Baek’s idle conversations, putting more focus on their fight instead.

If Baek wasn’t an enemy Minho wanted to kill with his own hands, he would be impressed. The scientist was able to keep up with him in close-combat, a skill that Minho took pride in as well. Minho had started using his pocket knife midway into the fight, and Baek was able to counter his attacks with his own blade. Minho makes some sort of flashy movement with his knife and as planned, it distracts Baek’s eyes for a second. With a small window of opportunity, Minho uses his free hand to grab Baek’s wrist, holding the scientist in place as he brings a knee to his stomach. The agent then uses the same knee to strike an uppercut to Baek’s jaw before twirling the knife in his hand to lodge it into Baek’s shoulder.

However, before the tip of the knife can even touch Baek’s skin, the scientist head-butts Minho’s face, causing the agent to take a small step back. He brings a hand to his bloodied nose, wiping the red liquid away. As soon as Minho’s eyes land on his opponent, Baek grabs the agent’s jaw with strong hands and grips tightly, “You’re in the way, Agent Lee.”

Baek delivers a painful punch to Minho’s jaw before repeatedly hitting his abdomen with his knee. Minho isn’t sure why he isn’t able to react in time - he usually does - but perhaps it was because Baek was just as skilled as him. Baek was displaying top-level combat skills that could level his, Chan and Changbin’s prowess. So when Minho falls to his knees, attempting to catch his breath, Baek proceeds to kick the life and fire out of him. The agent coughs out blood onto the ground, finally feeling the pain from all the assaults on his body. Still, it was quite satisfying to fight someone who didn’t die after just one shot or two punches.

Baek squats down to meet Minho’s level, his strong hand coming up to grab the agent’s throat. He squeezes hard, ensuring that Minho could not breathe a sliver of air for even a split second. Minho feels his throat straining and drying, head spinning from the lack of oxygen. The kicks to his stomach didn’t help, making him want to scream at the man strangling him.

Was this what it was like to feel powerless? Was this how you felt when you were forced to work for Baek?

Minho had almost forgotten what it was like to feel weak and vulnerable.

But then he remembers why he doesn’t let himself feel this way.

How could he protect people if he was weak and vulnerable?

Gritting his teeth, Minho grabs another pocket knife from his belt and swiftly jabs it into Baek’s leg. The scientist yells in pain, finally letting go. Minho dryly coughs blood as he catches his breath, putting as much distance as he can between him and the scientist. By the time Baek disregards the pain in his leg, Minho is back in front of him, a newfound fire in his eyes. The agent grabs Baek’s arm, gripping tightly as he swings him half-circle and uses whatever strength he has to throw him like he was swinging a baseball bat.

Baek stumbles along and trips on his feet due to the momentum, giving Minho ample time to kick him and stomp his foot onto Baek’s back, ensuring that the man stays down.

When the agent hears the shuffling of footsteps, he assumes that Choi is still somewhere around. His assumption is then proven correct as he sees a figure sneaking around by the vehicle. With sharp eyes, Minho aims his gun at the figure, ready to pull the trigger.

However, his cold gaze falters when he sees a Cle agent holding a familiar person in his arms handling the body quite roughly. The three figures then come into view, revealing a Cle agent, Choi, and you.

It was as if his whole world froze, eyes watching as a Cle agent shoved you around roughly as you struggled in his grasp. There was no fear in your eyes, only anger and distaste. Yet Minho was the one afraid for you. If he had to watch you being treated so horribly, then screw those men.

With gritted teeth, Minho aims his gun at the Cle agent and shoots without a second thought, killing the man. However, it back-fires as another gunshot is heard, and Minho eyes land on the bloom of red staining your jeans. His ears hear your cry of pain, struggling to stay standing as Choi shoots your leg.

Before Minho can shoot Choi down, however, the older male yells, “Don’t shoot, Agent Lee!”

Choi puts you on a choke-hold with one arm, his free hand holding a gun to your head. “You make any moves, and her head will be decorating this place!” Choi threatens.

Minho glares, jaw tensing as he slowly lowers his gun. You look at him with pleading eyes, shaking your head frantically, “Minho, no! Forget about me and stop them!”

“Her life or your mission, Agent Lee.”

You look at the agent with a serious expression, “Please, Minho! We need to stop them at all costs!”

Even if it costs my life, you wanted to tell him, it’s the least I could do to amend the wrongs of the past.

Minho knows better and should technically let you die, right? He was trained for this...trained for situations like this where sacrifices had to be made for the good of all. It was, after all, his duty as an agent. His logical mind was constantly reminding him of this fact and made sure that he remembered it at any time. Yes, of course, fully and completely trained to sacrifice someone for the greater good. Trained to strike down anyone without a second thought as long as it benefited the people.

But why was he hesitating then?

A stormy conflict gathers inside him as his eyes never leave yours. He knows by heart that his duty would require him to shoot his enemies down, either injuring or killing you in the process; but it would be for the greater good. He knows this indeed. But he doesn’t want to do it.

His dilemma distracts him, and Baek shoves his foot off of him. It all happens quickly now; Baek takes advantage of that second-long distraction, grabbing Minho’s gun from him and aiming it at the agent. He pulls the trigger without hesitation, shooting Minho at the abdomen. Once the bullet meets his body, Minho silently gasps, his attention now on Baek.

“Minho!”

Another pull to the trigger, another shot. This time, it hits Minho so, so, so close to the heart.

The agent coughs out more blood, the red liquid dripping down his chin. He falls to his knees, clutching his waist in an attempt to stop the bleeding and alleviate the pain.

“Minho, please! No!” you scream.

Baek snickers at Minho, dropping his gun and bending down to look at the bloodied agent with spite. He grips Minho’s hair, pulling and forcing the agent to look at him. “You were able to kill your lover for the sake of SKZ years ago.” Baek begins coldly, “Why couldn’t you do the same now?”

Minho knows that it’s because you were different from Jiyeon, and that you deserved to live and be happy in life. That after the nightmares you’ve been through, you deserved to see the light and live the way you wanted to.

Minho looks at you with sad eyes, a small smile forming on his bloodied lips. You bite your lip trying not to cry or show any weakness. The sight makes Minho close his eyes, head drooping low as if he were defeated.

With that, Baek scoffs and shoves Minho away, beginning to walk over to you and Choi, ready to leave the scene. Choi releases his hold on you and moves the gun away from your head. However, when Baek stands in front of you and grabs your chin, you spit at his face and glare. Angered, the man slaps you with the back of his hand. Before, you would have cowered in fear and submitted to his tyranny. But now, you hold your glare and refuse to back down, keeping firm in your anger and wrath.

“Your boyfriend is half-dead, and we won.” Baek snarls, “You should know when to quit it, Dr. Song.”

“Not for you.” you growl back.

Just as Choi grips your arm to direct you to the vehicle the now-dead Cle agent brought over on the far side of this area, you pull a bottle from your pocket and smash it on Choi’s head.

The man screams in pain as the serum immediately takes effect on his skin, burning and rotting away. You take steps back to avoid getting affected, but your back hits Baek as you do so. The scientist punches your cheek with no mercy, causing you to fall to the ground with a yelp. The man is about to kick you when a gunshot pierces through, hitting Baek square on the head.

Your head snaps over to the side, revealing Minho with one hand holding his gun, the other still gripping his waist. It amazes you that even with one eye squinted in pain, he managed to shoot Baek down on the head. Truly the sharpshooter everyone praises him to be.

But it was not time to be impressed.

Ignoring your own injury on your leg, you scramble to your feet and run over to Minho, carefully making your way into his outstretched arms. He enveloped you in a weak yet secure hug, kissing the top of your head. His thumb gently strokes the area Baek had punched you at. “Are you ok?” he gently whispers.

You nod, pulling away just enough to look at him. “I’m fine, but you?”

Minho groans, consciousness slipping as his weary eyes threaten to close, “I’m - ”

He doesn’t get to finish because his legs give up on him. You manage to catch him before he completely falls. Slowly and carefully, you support him and help the agent lay on the ground. You sit next to him, carefully lifting his head to lay it on your lap, now letting your tears run freely. “You’re so stupid.” you choke out, “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I told you not to worry about me.”

Minho chuckles weakly, “How can I not, y/n? I care about you too much.”

You sniff and pout your lip, sighing, “And now look at you.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Minho assures you despite the clear expression of pain on his face, “Also, weren’t you supposed to be with Felix?”

You nod, slowly opening Minho’s shirt to inspect his injuries. “We were...but then we got separated when Cle agents ambushed us.” you explain.

Minho closes his eyes as your fingers gently and carefully touch the areas around his gunshot wounds. The blood coats your fingers, but you ignore it in favor of putting your palms over the wounds to stop the bleeding. Minho winces in pain, but you soothe him with a soft “shhh” and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“They’ll be here soon...and...and...we’ll get you treated as soon as possible.” you whisper, cradling his face with your gentle hands and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “Hang on a bit, ok?”

Minho tilts his head slightly, asking softly, “How’s your leg?”

You quickly glance at the gunshot wound on your leg and offer a smile, “It hurts...it really does. But it’s ok. I’ll be strong for you, for everyone.”

Minho reaches a hand up to caress your cheek, a fond smile on his lips as he speaks, “You’re amazing.”

“No, you are.” you whisper, tears dripping down to his face and causing him to chuckle.

“Don’t cry.” Minho hums, moving his hand to place it at the back of your neck.

As gently as he can, he brings your head lower, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. You taste the metallic tinge of his blood, but for his sake, you ignore it and kiss him with all the love and emotion you can manage to pour. You kiss him like your lips were the only thing capable of keeping him breathing, a lifeline to ensure that he didn’t slip away from you.

After a moment, you both hear cars approaching nearby. Minho pulls away, smiling at you without a word. You mirror his expression, leaning down to cradle his head against your chest. Minho’s arms come around to embrace you, feeling all the pain and tension slowly melt away.

Seconds later, a rush of footsteps approach, and frantic voices ask if you were both alright. You pull away from Minho’s embrace, eyes lighting up as you see Chan kneeling beside you two. The older male looks at the unconscious Minho, smiling sadly at his best friend. He then turns to you, eyes warm and gentle. “It’s all done, y/n. You ok?”

You nod, a small but pained smile on your lips, “More or less. You?”

“Never been better.” Chan laughs lightly.

Changbin then arrives, giving you a smile before helping Chan lift Minho up. A few other SKZ agents come to carry Minho into one of the cars with Changbin. Chan then offers his hand, which you take as he helps you up. Noticing the wound on your leg, the male carries you in his arms as well, walking over to another car. There, Felix greets you with a cry of joy.

“Y/n! I was so worried! I am so sorry!” the young agent says.

You give him an assuring smile and reply, “It’s ok Lix, don’t worry.”

The young agent moves aside to give you space in the car, and Chan carefully sets you down on the seat. You glance over to the bigger car where they put Minho in, a small frown now replacing your smile. Chan follows your gaze before chuckling softly and ruffling your hair. “He’ll be fine, y/n. Trust me.” Chan winks, “Minho won’t let himself die just like that...not when you’re in his life now.”

You fight the blush blooming on your cheeks and play it off with a sheepish grin. “Let’s go home, Chan.”

The older agent smiles, a playful salute following after, “Roger that, Dr. Song.”

Several days have passed since the mission at Jeju. Minho gets his treatment at the clinic with Seungmin’s help, and you and Jisung help the team dispose of all the Cle serums they acquired during the mission. It’s an ongoing process as various teams led by Changbin are infiltrating the remaining Cle bases and taking whatever serums they can for disposal using your solution.

Chan and a man named Im Hangyul deal with the internal affairs and revelations of Jung’s betrayal as the traitor as being kept imprisoned in the government’s highly-secured prison facility. Hyunjin has flown to Jeju to deal with discussions and aid in the damage done to the hotel during the entirety of the mission.

Jeongin and Felix keep track of everything, helping out where they can and whenever they can. Though they do spend most of their time with Minho in his clinic room as he recovers. You drop by every now and then, but Minho knows how busy you are so he tells you to prioritize your work first. After all, you could both talk afterwards.

And that is precisely what you both do a few days later, standing in one of the rooftop lounges of the living quarters.

Your hands rest on the railings as you stare at the horizon, fresh air dancing between your hair. A familiar voice calls out for your name, and you see Minho slowly walking over to you when you turn around. He smiles gently, and you offer a grin of your own. It doesn’t take long for him to reach you, and as soon as he does, his arms wrap around your waist as he brings you closer. You melt in his hold, releasing a deep breath as you take in his scent and close your eyes in bliss.

You remain like that for a moment until Minho pulls away just enough to look at you. His eyes are warm and gentle as they search yours, a goldenness melting into yours the longer he stares. You stifle a giggle and softly ask, “What?”

Minho chuckles, pecking your lips. “I’m sorry for lying to you.” he says gently, “I’m sorry for being a hypocrite, telling you to not keep secrets from me when in reality, I kept secrets from you.”

“Min...you...you probably - ”

“No, y/n. I expected you to be honest with me, but I wasn’t doing the same. No excuses. I really am sorry.” Minho says firmly yet gently.

You kiss his nose and respond in kind, “It’s ok Minho, I forgive you. But...I’m still a bit confused with what went down.”

Right. The whole fiasco in Jeju was still unanswered, and he did promise to explain everything once it was over.

“I promised I would explain, so here it is.”

“I’m listening.”

Minho begins to speak, starting off with how he began suspecting Jung years ago during the whole Jiyeon situation. He then explains that he, Chan and Changbin monitored Jung all those years and kept an eye on him by earning his trust. They brought this up to the authority they could truly trust - Im Hangyul, or the man they met at the bar the other time. Hangyul instructed them to keep pretending to be loyal to Jung until he showed his true colors.

“Hangyul was Jung’s colleague when they were younger agents, but Hangyul never felt at east with Jung. Jung never really cared about Hangyul’s involvement as long as he did his job as SKZ’s upper authority. Jung didn’t suspect Hangyul’s plans because Hangyul was able to make it seem like he was too naive for Jung’s schemes.” Minho continues to explain.

“So...Hangyul orchestrated everything to make sure Jung would eventually show his true colors?”

“I think Jung would eventually betray SKZ no matter what. Hangyul just anticipated it made sure that we knew how to go about it in the eventuality it happened. On the other hand, Jung manipulated some missions to make it seem less suspicious while still getting the job done on Cle's side. It’s a bit...complicated, I know.”

“No kidding.” you chuckle.

Minho smiles before continuing, “Long story short, Hangyul came up with the plan for me, Chan and Changbin to seem extremely loyal to Jung so that he didn’t suspect us. We’d play along with his business and whatnot, and then arrest him when the time came. That’s what went down back in Jeju.”

“I see. Felix and I were worried back then.”

“I wanted to tell you about our plan, but Hangyul told us not to tell anyone else.” Minho makes an apologetic expression, “He was afraid that it would make things messier than they already were. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Minho.” you say with a smile, “You did what you had to do.”

A chuckle escapes his lips as he leans down to kiss you. However, before he can, you put a hand in between and smirk. “Was ‘shooting’ me part of the plan?” you teasingly ask.

“Yes…” Minho trails off before clearing his throat, “Hangyul knew that you and Felix were going to get involved either way, so he wanted to make it seem like I didn’t care about you out of loyalty to Jung. It was to protect you, otherwise Jung would have shot you for real himself. We knew he wouldn’t have Felix killed on the spot, so Chan handled that.”

“Not sure if I should find that romantic or concerning.” you laugh.

The agent laughs with you, shaking his head. “I just don’t want you dead, case closed.”

“How sweet.”

Minho smirks at you; without wasting another second, he kisses you deeply, hands gently cradling your face as he brings you closer and closer. Your arms coil around his neck as you respond, kissing him with equal fervor. Tongues meet in a passionate dance while lips slide in perfect harmony; it’s a beautiful symphony of intimacy, a newfound addiction that swallows both of you whole. It’s a song of yearning hearts that can finally do as they please after having to hurdle past roadblocks and towering walls.

You both separate with a popping sound, breathing heavy and faces flushed. With hearts beating like drums, you breathe out, “Thank you, Minho.”

“For?”

“Helping me trust again. For sticking with me and showing me that there are people worth trusting...that there are people who genuinely care. Just...thank you for changing my life.” you say softly, a single tear slipping from your eye.

Minho smiles gently, thumb brushing the stray tear away. “You did change things for me too, y/n.” he begins, “You helped me open up again. I’ve almost forgotten what it was like to feel and care for someone the way I do for you. You showed me that people aren’t so difficult and that emotions aren’t useless.”

You’re overwhelmed with so much emotion that you can’t speak; instead, you just smile at Minho like he was the brightest star and most valuable treasure ever. The male laughs, kissing your nose, “I never really said it out loud but…”

He then presses a gentle kiss to your lips and whispers, “I love you, y/n. Genuinely and sincerely, I love you.”

You hum against his lips, unable to stop the giddy giggle from escaping your lips. “I love you too, Minho. Genuinely and sincerely.”

The agent is about to open his mouth to speak when a calm and gentle voice breaks the romantic atmosphere.

“Dr. Song, a moment, please.”

Both you and Minho turn around to see a smiling man waving in a friendly manner. Minho bows respectfully, “Sir Im.”

Hangyul chuckles, smiling at the agent. “Agent Lee, sorry to interrupt, but I must speak to Dr. Song.”

Minho knows what this is about, and he can’t help the feeling of worry settle in his guts. Still, he flashes you a melancholic smile, squeezing your hand a second longer than he had intended. Hangyul gives him an apologetic yet assuring smile as the agent walks away from the lounge. Now that you and Hangyul are alone, the elder speaks, “I assume Minho already told you everything?”

“Yes, he did, sir.”

“Well, congratulations on completing your mission here at SKZ, my dear. However, as I remember, you and Jung agreed on something.”

“Yes, we did.”

You could return to the hospital as soon as your job was done in SKZ.

Hangyul tilts his head and smiles gently, “You’re free to go back to Gongjak now that this mission is over.”

“Right, of course.”

You’re about to ask him whether you should pack your things, but Hangyul hums and offers a slightly cheekier grin. “But as SKZ’s new head, I am also offering you a job here. The lab department, or more like Han Jisung actually, would like to have you work there. That department lost a lot of good scientists and doctors after Baek and Jung’s betrayal.”

A small sparkle of hope glimmers in your eyes.

“Of course, I am aware that a lot of trauma was placed on you in those very labs, so we’d surely understand if you choose to return to Gongjak.”

“I see…” you trail off before clearing your throat and looking at Hangyul with a determined glaze, “Sir...do you believe in new beginnings?”

“Why of course, dear.” Hangyul chuckles, “Especially with the right environment and mindset. And...the right people.”

“Then...I’ve made my decision.” you say proudly.

Hangyul smiles, offering you his hand, “Come then. Let us finalize things and make arrangements.”

Minho may have recovered from his injuries, but the exhaustion from all the missions and fights the past months were still lingering. As such, the agent lay on one of the couches of the lounge room, eyes shut as he remained fast asleep. Despite his keen senses, he does not stir awake when someone opens the door and quietly walks towards him.

He only wakes - but doesn’t open his eyes - when he feels a weight laying on top of him. When he feels a head nuzzling against his chest and sighing in relief, a small smile graces his lips. “Are you here to say goodbye, or are you here to stay?” he mumbles.

You chuckle, listening to his steady heartbeat, unconsciously counting its beats. “If I said it was to say goodbye...then what?”

Minho opens his eyes, his gaze now on you. A smirk is on his lips as his hands find purchase on your hips, “Then you have a very naughty way of saying goodbye.”

A bright laugh escaped your lips as you shift around to look at Minho, a giddily warm gaze in his eyes. You feel the butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you, and you have no choice but to smile back. You crawl a bit higher, high enough to bring your faces close together. You tease a kiss on his lips, the touch fleeting and feather light. The male chases you with a simple lift of his head, wrapping his velvety lips around yours.

You hum into his mouth as he does with yours, fingers splaying across his chest as you steady yourself. Minho’s left hand tangles between the locks of your hair while the other holds onto your waist like a lock. A tongue darts out, and you take the chance to tease him once more by pulling away just as he tastes you. With a giggle from you, Minho’s deadpan expression morphs into that of amusement.

“Clearly, you are enjoying this.” he jokes.

You laugh, “Just a little fun.”

“Mhmm.” Minho smirks at you, pinching your cheek.

“I’m staying, Minho.” you eventually blurt out, observing his reaction.

The agent looks blank at first, but when your words sink in, his eyes widen in pleasant surprise as he chuckles. “You are?” he asks to be sure he heard right.

“Yes, I am.” you say softer this time, pressing your forehead against his, “Im Hangyul offered to let me work here since the lab department needed new people.”

Minho’s lips curl into a pleased smile, eyes glimmering with all the stars that he could fit. “You don’t know how happy that makes me, y/n. How happy that would make the boys.” Minho whispers against your skin when he peppers kisses on your cheek.

You giggle, humming in satisfaction at his reaction. Minho sits up, careful not to let you slip off his lap. Once seated, he rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you. “What made you change your mind?” he asks.

“Well,” you start, “I joined SKZ back then to help people, and it’s still what I want to do. I just couldn’t do it with all the...things that happened with Baek and the rest. But...you and Chan and the other boys helped me through it and as I told Hangyul, it’s a new beginning - a new start for me. With you guys, of course.”

The agent looks at you fondly, reaching a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “We look forward to having you with us, y/n.” he smiles.

You chuckle, gentle fingers tenderly ghosting over the bruises on his face, and your thumb carefully ghosting across the scar on his lip that was still healing. “I thought I was going to lose you that day, you know?” you say softly.

Minho smiles, lips curling cutely as he kisses you briefly, “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

He then proceeds to joke, “But I don’t mind getting injured every now and then if you’ll be the doctor tending to my wounds.”

“Lee Minho.” you playfully glare.

Minho laughs, wrapping his arms around your figure as he leans closer to kiss you tenderly, coaxing your mouth open with smooth ease. You let him do so anyway, smiling into the kiss as you press yourself closer to him. When he pulls away to look at you, the stars in his eyes dance with a brightness like no other.

“I love you.” he grins.

Your fingers play with the little hairs at the back of his neck. “I love you too.” you smile.

You’re both about to meet for another kiss when the lounge room door opens, revealing seven other boys. Flustered, you clamber off of Minho’s lap, causing the male to laugh in amusement. As soon as you’re on your feet, Felix comes crashing in and tackles you in a tight hug.

“Is it true that you’re staying?”

“Yeah, I am.” you laugh, hugging the younger male.

Felix celebrates, jumping up and down and blabbering about how you should all go out for a celebratory meal. Jisung and Seungmin walk over, and the three of you do a group hug. The doctor speaks up first, “It’s nice to be able to work with you again.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Seungmin.” you grin at him then at Jisung, “Right, Mr. Lab Department Head?”

Jisung smiles proudly, “Yes! This is going to be great.”

Hyunjin sits on one of the beanbags and smiles, “It’s customary for the newest recruit to treat us agents to something, by the way.”

“Really?” you look at Chan, Changbin and Minho for confirmation; the three just chuckle to themselves.

Jeongin sits on the beanbag next to Hyunjin and grins, eyes turning into narrow slits. “He’s just kidding. But if you want to...we won’t object.” the youngest sing-songs.

“Let me think about it.” you laugh.

“Yay! Jisung and Felix cheer.

Changbin then slings an arm around your shoulder and pretends to whisper; though, he “whispers” loud enough for Minho to hear. “We’re counting on you to keep an eye out for Minho, ok? Don’t fall too hard for his charms though…” the buff agent grins cheekily.

“Roger that.” you play along, prompting a “haha very funny” response from Minho.

Chan smiles like a proud older brother, gesturing his head to the large window that displays the sky in view. “Here’s to more missions then.” he smiles happily.

You nod in response, giving the eldest agent a hug of appreciation.

A few minutes later, everyone has settled in the room and are doing their own things. Jeongin, Felix, Jisung and Seungmin are playing UNO, Changbin and Hyunjin are watching a movie on the TV, and Chan is asleep on the other couch. You, meanwhile, stay snuggled against Minho with his arms wrapped securely around you. Your head rests on his shoulder as you both watch the other boys playfully ruin their friendships over UNO, an amused smile on your faces.

Minho then shifts his head to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. This prompts you to look up at him, smiling softly. Minho then smiles, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispers, “Welcome to SKZ, Dr. Song.”

“Thank you, Agent Lee.” you grin wider when he kisses your nose.

And after a quick, tender kiss on your lips, Minho whispers, “And welcome home.”

Stepping back into SKZ was like free-falling from a thousand-foot tower. Non-stop, heart-racing and terrifying falling at full speed. It took a fall or maybe two, and while every second and every inch of that tested your heart, mind and trust, it was worth it.

You put your trust in these boys - in Minho - and took that leap into the unknown, falling into a rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland.

And you’d do it again because you know - you trust - that someone was there to catch that fall.

“It’s good to be home.”

- BONUS EPILOGUE ; Two years later - 

You sit on a beach towel, toes digging into the sand as you watch Jisung, Felix, Hyunjin and Jeongin play a very...unconventional game of volleyball. On the far end where the water begins to get deep, Chan, Changbin and Hangyul attempt to surf, though it results in a comical falling and flailing in water; quite cute, considering they were agents and whatnot.

Seungmin and a few other select agents are strolling the shoreline, either collecting shells or taking photos to preserve the memory. A smile graces your lips as a summery, salty breeze kisses your skin.

A minute or two later, Minho returns from the beach-side bar, two drinks in his hands. He takes his seat beside you, offering the other drink. You look at its bright blue color before smiling at Minho. “Can you be drinking, Agent Lee?” you playfully joke around.

Minho laughs, gently ruffling your hair, “We’re off-duty, Dr. Song. It’ll be fine.”

You take a sip of the drink and chuckle, eyes back on the boys playing volleyball. “Considering the last mission nearly killed you and Chan, I’d say you both deserve this vacation.” you playfully scrunch up your nose.

Minho hums after sipping his drink, “That...and you know how Felix has always wanted to go to Jeju on a non-mission context.”

“Oh, right.” you grin.

“And…” the agent trails off as he looms over, kissing your lips teasingly slow, “I did promise to take you on a beach date.”

“You’re two years late, by the way.” you tease with a smirk.

“Can’t help it. We’re busy people.” Minho laughs.

“Are you two gonna flirt and drink while we all burn under the sun, or are you gonna join us for some intense volleyball?” Jisung jokes, prompting you and Minho to laugh.

“Alright, alright. We’re coming.”

“Wait.” Hyunjin panics as you walk over to him, “Why does Minho look like he’s going to strike us down like target practice?”

Jeongin, who is on the same team as Minho now, merely smiles in the most innocent manner, “It’s ok, you have y/n, a literal doctor.”

“Somehow that doesn’t comfort me in the slightest!”

Felix laughs, “Game time!”

#stayhavennet #stray kids #lee know #lee know scenario #lee know imagine #minho #minho imagine #minho scenario #lee minho #lee minho scenario #lee minho imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #skz #imagine #scenario #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #spy #secret agent #au #spy au #secret agent au #s: trust fall #series: trust fall

[dragon-fics]

DOS: A Princely Predicament (Male Human x Dragon/Reader)

Chapter summary: For years the only interaction you hade with humans was pillaging their villages. So when a king comes to you with a scheme on how to kidnap what would later turn out to be your greatest treasure.

F/C = Favourite colour

* = means (my) father

I hated humans. I just hated them. You could hide your quiet, solitary self, high in a mountain, away from all the drama of the world and somehow one would still scurry its way up to jab at you with its tiny metal handheld spike.

And the worst ones were the ones that dreamt of greatness and glory, and killing a great dragon such as myself seemed to be the most popular way of doing it. Obviously, none of them had succeeded.

So, when this visitor arrived, let’s just say I almost bit his head off before he had even spoken. But I’m glad I didn’t; I got some fine treasure out of it.

“You want me to do what?” I spat, peering down at the king who stood in front of me.

He held his pale face calmly, staying stoic and proud. “To kidnap Prince Lansa and keep him here until I send someone to fetch him,” King Darius said. He and King Alo were rivals. And from what I understood, Darius was desperate for an alliance. But he hated doing things civilly, so he figured that this way was the most convenient way.

“And what’s in it for me?” I hissed, flicking out my tongue.

Darius smirked, scratching his black beard. “Why, treasure of course.” He threw his hand back to a knight stood at the mouth of my cave. He led forward a horse-drawn carriage, piled up with gems and gold. The treasure caught the morning light beautifully.

A grin caught my face. So much treasure for babysitting a prince? I almost laughed at the thought.

“And there’ll be more when you capture the prince, and much more will be given once I send someone to pick him up—for the inconvenience.” He grinned. A few of his knights glanced at each other. “So, do we have a deal, (Y/N)?”

I looked up, focusing on the sky outside. The dripping of water from the man-made pond in the other room filled the silence. Darius stayed completely still and silent. “Very well,” I said finally. “We have a deal.”

He offered his hand to shake. I offered him a claw and shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Darius.”

*~*~*~*

“Let go of me! You foul beast!” Prince Lansa yelled. He wriggled in my front talons, punching my claws.

I chuckled and flew higher. “I’m not going to do that, Princess. You’re much too valuable to let drop.”

Lansa groaned, irritated. “I am not a princess. I am a prince.”

I snorted amusingly. “I’m well aware, Lansa.” I looked ahead at the twinkling stars and the spire that pierced the clouds. The spire that was my home. I flapped my wings harder, putting on a burst of speed.

“What do you want me for?” he demanded, hitting my claws again. I felt something tickle my digits.

I chuckled. “Magic will not free you, Princess.”

Lansa scoffed and held himself still. “Well, what are you going to do with me?”

I smirked. “Eat you, of course. After a good game of cat and mouse, or rather, dragon and human.”

He flinched in my hold and looked down. “Wonderful,” he murmured.

I soared towards my cave, seeing its opening and landing just in front of it, by the smooth, round pillars, holding my wings out for balance as I teetered on my rear legs. I placed Lansa on the ground.

He stumbled forward, gathering his balance. I looked down at him in his red evening suit. I picked up a torch on the ground and blew a plume of fire onto the tar at one end, its warm light illuminating his face as he stared up at me in quiet awe. He had several gold pieces and gems embedded in his ears, a delicate gold chain and ruby around his neck, and bands of gold and silver around almost every digit.

I would hate to admit it, but he had quite a handsome, pointed face with light brown skin and long, dark hair in a long plait.

“What?” Lansa spat, noticing my face. “I thought you said you were going to eat me.”

I cocked a brow. “Well, I lied.” I picked him up by the back of his clothes.

“Hey! My garments are very expensive!” he yelled, throwing his hands all over the place.

I growled and walked on the smooth, straight-line cracked floor. I walked passed the stone, seated human in its chair. Its shattered head lay in rubble by its feet. I hit one of the bigger pieces with my tail, shattering it into smaller pieces.

“How dare you?!” Lansa seethed. “Broella did not give you life just so you could smash her head into such small pieces no one would ever recognise her!”

“I washn’t aware see wash shomeome speshial,” I said between clenched teeth.

“This entire temple is littered with paintings and statues of her. How could you not know about the most important deity to ever exist!” he lectured, crossing his weak rope arms.

I hummed and ignored him, making my way to the back of this so-called temple. In the centre was a man-made pool of water with some other human standing with a bucket of water. Once upon a time, water flowed from the bucket in some magical way, but it no longer did. Surrounding the stone pond were piles upon piles of gold and gems and my soft bed made of goat, sheep and oxen hides.

I dropped Lansa on the hides and pinned him down with my rear leg. He uttered a sound of mild discomfort. “Don’t even think of moving.”

He scoffed and rested his head in his hands.

I rolled my eyes and put down my torch in a stand, rummaging around in a pile of gold, remembering what I’d robbed from a town a few years ago. They had kept a fire phoenix in a cage, so naturally I took the cage and released the fiery bird. The cage itself was silver—whether it was actually silver was another thing—and embedded with gems. So, I kept it.

Finally, I pulled it out from beneath its pile of gold. I shook it, getting rid of any loose coins and gems. I placed it on the ground with a clang. Opening the wire door, lifted my paw from Lansa.

He pushed himself to his tiny feet. “You must be joking,” he said in a flat, yet irritated tone. He scowled at me. The cage was just big enough for him to stand and lie in comfortably.

“In. Now.” I growled, slamming a paw down onto the floor beside him.

“What do you actually want with me?” Lansa said with a penetrating gaze.

“Does it matter?” I lowered my head to get a better look at him.

His brown eyes stared deep into mine. He lifted his suspicious look. “You have beautiful eyes,” he commented.

I raised my head, baffled.

Lansa looked at the cage. “I suppose not. Either way, I’ll either end up dead or you’ll trade me for treasure or a feast,” he answered. He stepped into the cage. “But if I’m expected to stay here, I wish for some pillows and some blankets.”

I peered down at him, closing the door with a soft clatter. “And what happens if I don’t provide things for your comfort?”

He smirked. “I can be very aggravating. Plus, I’ve got magic.”

I barked a laugh, making him jump. “Magic? I’d hardly even say you’re capable of a simple card trick.”

Lansa scoffed, clearly offended. “I promise you; I can be very aggravating.”

Continuing to laugh, I walked away. I went over to my bed of hides. I picked up a bundle of sheep’s wool, a deer hide, a blanket and a cushion, all from raids. Opening the door, I tossed in the soft belongings.

“There,” I said, shutting it. I lay down on my bed, yawning widely.

Lansa got to work quickly. I observed him. Placing the wool down first, he made a mattress. He draped the deer hide over the wool and then set up the cushion and blanket on top. He removed his jacket and lay beneath the blanket, dozing off quickly.

I waited a few moments before coming closer to his cage and lifting it up. I studied him for a moment and hung him from the chandelier high above my bed. As I smothered the light, my eyelids grew heavy, and I dozed off.

*~*~*~*

“Get. Me. Down. From heeeeere!” Lansa bellowed.

I cracked open my eyes with a groan. “Shut up!” I groaned, reaching for a piece of gold. I launched it at him, eyes closed, and missed.

He groaned. “Well, I need to get out of this cage!” he whined urgently.

I lifted my head groggily. “And why exactly to you need to leave the cage?” I asked. I yawned and stretched out my wings.

Lansa sighed. “I have an urgent need,” he mumbled.

I forced myself to my feet, exasperated. I looked at him. He was holding his paws over the fork of his legs, his knees together. I sighed and lowered the cage onto the ground. I opened the door. “Just remember that I’m faster,” I warned.

He jogged out of the room to the entrance of the temple. I plodded after him, stretching my legs. Settling in front of the giant statue of the deity Lansa had lectured me on yesterday, I looked at its robes and narrow figure. I stared at it for a long time, unsure why exactly he had taken so much offense to the rock being broken.

“So now you take an interest, dragon,” Lansa said, emerging through the entrance.

“(Y/N),” I corrected. “That is my name.”

He echoed it quietly and stopped by my talons. “I’ll remember that.”

I hummed. “Who is she?” I asked.

“That is Broella,” Lansa said, “the Goddess of Life. She created the world and everything in it. She is the mother of all gods.”

“Huh,” I said, looking down at him.

He looked up at me with another penetrating gaze. “How do you know my name?”

I looked back at the pale stone statue. “I’ve been watching you for a while.” That was partially true.

“And why have you been watching?” he asked apprehensively.

“Because,” I started, “you’re handsome.” That too was only partially a lie.

Lansa looked away from me. “So, is that why you kidnapped me? To make me your…?” he trailed off, uncomfortable.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked away. “Wonderful,” he sighed.

I hit him with the end of my tail. “Right. Back into your cage, I have things to do.”

Lansa yelped, stumbling forward. “Ow! Alright. Alright.” He walked back to my hoardroom with me. I locked him back into his cage and left the temple, keeping an eye out for Darius.

*~*~*~*

There had been no sign of Darius all day.

I snorted, frustrated, as I walked into the dark temple. I spared the statue of Broella a glance and walked through to my hoardroom. Lansa was sitting on my bed of hides, reading a book with an orb of yellow light hovering above his open palm. It surprised me he hadn’t just left.

“Still here?” I called, lighting the tar torch and placing it in a stand by the hides.

He shrugged. “Did you bring something to eat?”

I snorted, amused. “You ate last night.”

“But I’m staaarving!” Lansa whined. He was already aggravating, and I’d only spent a few spare moments with him.

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll get you a rabbit or something.”

He rushed to his feet. “Can I come with you?”

“Fine. But don’t make a sound.” I was willing to do anything not to risk hearing him whine and moan.

Lansa grinned and went for my leg. He gripped my shoulder, and I tossed him back. “What… are you doing?”

He held his hand to his head. “I was trying to get onto your back.”

“And why would you do that?”

Lansa got to his feet. “How else was I going to keep up with you?”

I sighed. How did this tiny thing with needle-like limbs think of everything? “Alright. But no poking or kicking or anything like that. It is a privilege to ride a dragon, Princess.” I raised my nose.

He huffed. “I promise I won’t poke or kick you.”

I nodded, bending my leg for him to clamber up onto my back.

Lansa got up quickly and settled into the spot between my shoulders and neck. “Alright, let’s go.”

Scoffing, I walked out of the temple. I treaded along the path I had made for myself, staying low to the ground. I avoided low-hanging branches and other obstacles for Lansa. It made me feel ridiculous.

Finally, I glimpsed some movement along the trees. “Off,” I whispered.

Lansa slid off my back without a moment’s hesitation, and I pounced on the movement. A rabbit landed between my claws. I swiftly cut its throat and picked it up. “On,” I ordered. He got onto my back, and I walked back to the temple.

“That was quick,” Lansa commented. “Did your parents teach you to hunt?”

“Yesh,” I responded, entering the temple, my jaws clamped shut. I stopped in the hoardroom and dropped the rabbit on the floor.

Lansa slid off my back and looked at it. “Can you cook it?”

I eyed him. “Cook it?”

“Yes,” he said. “Humans can’t eat meat raw.”

I sighed and blew a plume of flames onto the rabbit. Its skin and fur were burnt away, leaving bare, smoked brown rabbit meat. “There,” I said, walking over to my bed.

Lansa picked up the cooked rabbit and scrambled after me. He sat opposite me on the animal hides. He graciously ate the rabbit. You’d know he was a prince.

“Is it to your standard?” I asked, not truly caring if it was.

He nodded, taking another bite. “Yes. Thank you,” he responded after swallowing.

I looked out of the room, towards the statue’s room. “Of course. Can’t let my Princess have food that’s not up to his liking.”

*~*~*~*

It took two weeks before Darius showed up. And unfortunately, Lansa had grown on me. A lot.

It was ridiculous; I know. But I had developed a bit of a crush on him. He taught me a lot about the statues at the temple; he read to me most nights, and he really enjoyed flying, making him an excellent company.

And I’d rather not bring up about how often I thought about him when I was away. I wondered if he was alright, whether some nasty pest might hurt him, or if Darius had sent his knight and snuck past me. At this point in time, I was honestly questioning whether I was going to let Darius take him away.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Lansa said, touching my foreleg.

I stilled at his touch, coming out of my thoughts. “Princess,” I responded, looking down at him.

He looked up at me. “Are you ok? You’ve been out here for a while. Just… sitting.”

I looked back out at the rising sun. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Since when do you think?”

I snorted and hit him with my tail.

“Ow!” he hissed. “Okay, sorry.” He rubbed his lower back. “So, what were you thinking about?”

I hummed, wondering if I should be honest. I drew in a breath. “Lansa,” I started.

He tapped my leg, interrupting me. “Eh, (Y/N), who’s that?” he pointed to the rocky trail that led to the base of the mountain.

I followed his gaze. It was Darius, making his way up with three wagons filled with gold and seven knights. I stood up and spread my wings. I tightened my jaw. Add to my piles of gold or protect Lansa? That was what was running through my mind.

Finally, I said, “Get on my back.”

Lansa looked from me to the king and his knights. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get on my back.” I bent my leg for him to get on.

He glanced at the group getting closer and climbed up onto me. As soon as he was settled, I leaped up into the sky, my wings catching the wind. Lansa gripped my neck as I rose into the sky. Behind me, I heard king Darius yell and swear at me.

Finally, I levelled out over the clouds. Water droplets clung to my scales as I skimmed the clouds. Lansa sat up and looked around. He admired the view before looking at my head.

“(Y/N)? Who were those people?”

I faltered, my wings beating irregularly. “That was King Darius,” I replied, ashamed.

“And why was he coming up to you? And how did he know your name?”

“Because… I made a deal with him,” I sighed. I looked up at the horizon, where the sea of clouds met the bright blue sky.

“What sort of a deal?” Lansa asked suspiciously, leaning over my shoulder, trying to catch my eye.

I stayed silent, unable to respond. We had gotten so close; I couldn’t let that fall apart now.

Lansa sighed, exasperated. “What. Sort of deal. Did you make. With Darius, (Y/N)?” he said, his patience waning.

I looked at the rolling cloud beneath me. “I made a deal… to kidnap you, and guard you. In exchange for treasure,” I admitted, my head dipping sombrely.

He took a moment, cooling off before he spoke. I could tell it outraged him with how his heels dug into my shoulders and his finger clenched my spike. He drew in a large breath and looked up, his face still and regal as his limbs relaxed. “So why did you fly away with me?”

I raised my head. “Because…” I took in a breath, mustering up every bit of courage I had. “Because you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to lose you. So, I’m going to return you home and fight off Darius or move somewhere else, depending on my mood.” I glanced down; we were almost on top of King Alo’s castle.

“My father won’t just let you leave,” Lansa said.

“Then I will fight my way out. No king has ever captured or imprisoned me.” I snorted out a plume of smoke.

He spluttered and coughed. “That’s not what I m—AHHH!” he was cut off as I dove.

They built the castle in a niche of low-lying canyon, so it was almost out of sight to dragons who couldn’t see it. A longer, more hidden niche was close to it, with tiny houses pointing up from the pale rock. Farms made up the bed of the valley, with a meandering river separating the animals from the vegetable patches.

I slowed to a stop by the castle, landing in the cool courtyard. The walls and roofs of the castle were the same beige colour as the rocks and were at almost ninety-degree angles to each other, as were all the other houses’.

Lansa slid off my back as guards came rushing towards me. I growled and spread my wings.

“No!” Lansa hissed, touching my leg. “Stay, please. My father will want to see you.”

“Why?” I hissed back.

Not a moment later, King Alo appeared through the large wooden doors. He wasn’t much taller than Lansa, with long grey hair in an even longer plait than Lansa had. His skin was slightly paler than his son’s. White robes hung on his body and a necklace made of black bone and white beads decorated his chest. He was in fine health, one of the healthiest older humans I have ever seen.

“Oh, Lannie,” Alo cried, wrapping his arms around Lansa.

The guards pointed their spears at me. I shot them deadly glares, wishing I could hit them with my tail, or bat them away with my wings, or lash at them with my claws. But I didn’t. I lashed my tail in irritation and glanced at each one or their painted faces.

Lansa held his father close. “It’s good to be back, Nòsh*,” he whispered.

I looked away from the two. Such a sappy view made me uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet, monitoring the guards.

Lansa released his father, giving him a smile that said, “I won’t admit it, but I missed you”.

“And who might this be?” King Alo asked in the same suspicious tone Lansa used.

I inclined my head to him. “I am—”

“—Nòsh. This is (Y/N).” Lansa introduced, cutting me off. “He/She/They rescued me from the terrible dragon that stole me away.” He put his hand to his heart and looked up at me with the awe-inspired and grateful look. He looked back at his father. “He/She/They brought me back here to make sure I got home safe. Apparently, King Darius wanted to buy me off (Y/N) to make an alliance with you. But of course, he/she/they couldn’t let that happen, now, could you?” He looked back up at me.

I shook my head. Playing along seemed like the best option right now. “N-no. No, I couldn’t.”

A small smile flashed across Lansa’s face. “So that’s why he/she is/they are here. To ensure Darius didn’t capture me and make a fool out of you.”

Alo looked up at me and pinched the triangular stone dangling from his chain of beads between his fingers. “Well, you have done me a great service, (Y/N).” He came closer, touching my shoulder. “Lower your weapons,” he ordered. The guards obeyed, standing at attention. Alo dug his finger into one of my (F/C) coloured scales. “Come. I’ve got so many questions to ask you.” He spun around, striding towards the doors into the castle.

I lowered my head to Lansa’s eye-level. “What does he mean?”

“let’s just say that Nòsh is a huge dragon nerd,” he whispered to me.

“Oh,” I said in understanding. I raised my head again and walked after King Alo Lansa, walking beside me. “So,” I started, once the guards and the king were out of hearing distance. “Why did you lie?”

Lansa smiled at me. “Because I don’t want to lose you either.”

Like I said, I got some fine treasure out of making a deal with Darius.

#dragon #dragon one shots #x reader #fantasy #writing #short story #one-shot #one shots #prince x dragon

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 39

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I took my position alongside the mansion. Stealth was the goal and it was the dead of night which made my semblance a no-no. My semblance was the antithesis of stealth. I waited next to Neapolitan for a pair of guards to approach the same blind corner we'd snagged Nickel from and killed his buddy.

Random chance that we ended up with Nickel and depositing the other guard's body in an alley. I suppose Nickel ended up in an alley too so there's that.

A patrol was coming up.

I activated my semblance at the last second and spent it leaping out and grabbing one of the pair. "Hey-gck." I broke his neck by using my semblance on the move. He had aura and I just went right through it. It was blue colored and small compared to the flare of my semblance. A double flash of blue accompanied the sound of breaking bones and cartilage.

The shattered moon shone it's soft light down overhead, giving everything an otherworldly appearance.

Neapolitan brought her's down much more stealthily. She smirked up at me to rub it in while she choked the dude she was holding to death or unconsciousness.

We dragged them into the mansion's blind corner. I stepped up, jumped off the wall, and pulled a security camera off the wall and crushed it with my bare hands. The metal crumpled beneath my fingers.

"How long do you figure we have?"

She held up five fingers.

I nodded in relative agreement. It could be as many as five minutes. That wasn't all that much time all things considered. In a fight it was practically forever but for a series of fights as we infiltrated? Not so much. I started charging up my next Limit Break. When we moved we moved together like we'd practiced it. In truth we were both relatively skilled hunters. This just came par for the course. I pulled my longsword and tried to jimmy the mansion doors open with the tip of the shorter, thinner blade.

Neapolitan teleported up high on the mansion walls and disabled another security camera. Whoever was supposed to be watching those wasn't doing a good job. Or malfunctions were common in which case Don Corneo deserved this. He deserved what we were about to bring down on him.

I struggled with the lock. The long blade I was using wasn't designed for this kind of play. In the end I resolved to simply cut it at the lock. I stepped back, took careful aim, and swept my sword down at the door. I hit the lock dead on and prayed I wouldn't trigger an electric alarm system.

Cink.

The door opened and we trickled inside. No alarms went off. Maybe it was luck or maybe there wasn't one in set up at the door. Could be a silent alarm, too.

Inside there were places the plaster had been redone recently. They stood out amongst the neater walls as the places most likely to conceal explosives. I entered into a fine atrium, nowhere near as large as that of Haven's. There were five guards there. I brought my sword to bear and Neapolitan silenced them with her semblance.

We were on them. I brought the longsword around and neatly divided one's shoulders. I side-flipped through the air, low to the ground, both hands on Crocea Mors with the shield still on my back and cut into another with two rapid horizontal swings.

One of them was trying to speak into a microphone at his collar. Barking out commands for reinforcements or similar but it came out hushed. I cut him down with a piercing movement that ran him through near the heart.

The mansion's quarters were tight. I thought it would be best to just use the longsword for now.

Neo killed one by stabbing down through the collar bone down into the chest cavity. A spray of bullets chased her and silently shattered a large chandelier. It fell to the ground and scattered across the ground. She backflipped and cartwheeled back away from the arms fire, her eyes drawn in focus.

Her gaze fluttered. Her eyes rolling back in her head and her eyelids moving fast as she tried to concentrate. I got between her and the shooter. Blocking her with my body and shielding her from the damage.

I was on to the last man by then. I picked him up with one hand and drove my sword through his chest with the other. My shield was slightly folded in sheath form on my back and my breastplate shone in the darkness.

Things were going well. The current objective was to get at least Neo into the Don's office. That was our win condition. Our lose condition was getting caught too soon and being forced to fight all the guards and wading through the minefield. In that case we wouldn't even get the Don. He'd be sealed away inside his little vault and not even Limit would let me get access to him.

The chandelier had scattered glass all across the floor and it crunched under my boots as Neo let sound return to the room. Her semblance was fucking crazy. Though mine was a little like that too. Mine was about damage and raw skill. Her's, on the other hand, had utility in spades.

She could put up both visual and auditory illusions and had at the very least some kind of short range teleportation feature. Maybe longer than I thought, but she could do about fifty feet in my estimation. That's the biggest cap I'd seen on her doing it.

She was how I was going to win this thing.

Soft blue light preambled through the atrium and windows. The moon was high tonight and light trickled into the now dark mansion from outside.

"You ready?" I whispered.

She just gave me an eager grin and we proceeded through the house. There was a choke point ahead with more guards. Neo hushed them and I started cutting them down.

This room still had the lights on unlike the atrium and the blood was plainly visible in the soft yellow lights as it splashed across a fine painting.

I tried to cut through flesh and met aura. I sent the man stumbling even if I didn't kill him. He fell down to his knees and tried to rise. A wordless shout at his lips.

I thrust up under the ribs of another and charged a little. My semblance activated. I used the speed and strength to slice another nearly in half. He fell down in a silent scream.

I came back to the one with aura and I spent my semblance on a whirlwind of attacks. The same one I'd done to Cinder. His head hit the ceiling hard enough to crack it and he died from the trauma I put his torso through before I flung him. His red aura shattered under my assault. I'd perfectly timed the arrival of my semblance to deal with this more difficult foe.

Machine gun fire peppered my back and I lanced out with a leap and reached out, grabbed the man and tossed him behind me into Neapolitan's waiting arms. She put the small blade into his throat and beamed as he died in her loving arms.

I looked around and spotted a security camera. I pointed it out to Neo as I sliced the last guard down and she destroyed it.

We had to be fast. This whole operation was speed dependent. Otherwise the Don might start setting off his explosives and calling his men enforce. Neo drew back from where she put her blade through the camera.

Anything could give us away. Missing camera feeds or guards which didn't check in when they were supposed to. Plus someone could come across the bodies we were leaving behind in our wake. I figured that might give us away, too.

There was a plan B. I had an explosive that might be able to crack the vault open but without knowing what kind of locks were on it I'd had to make a guess with the fire dust crystal.

Neo had watched me rig the thing up with rapt attention back in the motel room with the dead man still on the chair.

"Just in case."

I'd said.

"Might be able to blow our way into the thing. You think you can teleport through a crack in the wall?"

She'd just nodded. It was good to have back up plans. If nothing else we'd make the Don uncomfortable and he'd probably be loath to call the police and have them go through his house. The last thing he wanted was cops around.

We might be able to wait him out. He'd have to come out eventually. Of course if his men overwhelmed and killed us it would be over.

Killed me, rather. Neo could just escape.

For now she was sticking things out with me because I was fun and I might get her that shot at Cinder. If that changed I'd be willing to bet she'd be gone.

We battled our way through a hushed corridor next. Neo's parasol was bullet proof, probably with webbed Titania. And she led the charge with her legs. A flurry of kicks broke the lead sentry's neck. I leapt over her and brought my sword down on the next. I went right through the gun he tried to raise to shield himself and bit deep at the collar. He went down.

If our map was accurate, that just left the Don's office ahead.

He was the first to notice us in the next well lit room.

I rolled into the room and thrust forward into a guard's stomach only to meet aura. I stood and slashed at him once, twice, thrice at the neck until I got through. Neo handled a guard with an electric stick by using his own charging momentum to fling him into the ceiling.

The electric door to the vault started to slowly close.

It was big with these metal knobs which would undoubtedly be hard to blast through or force open.

The Don was on the other side in a disheveled office with a mahogany table hammering away at a button.

Limit activated as I sliced into the stomach of another aura ridden sentry. I'd get through the last two of them eventually but not soon enough.

I used my great strength and an arcing wide swung to clock one in the head. He dropped like a sack of rocks from the trauma to his head. Then I stepped forward and smashed the pommel of my sword into the nose of the last hard enough to drive it back into his head.

I flicked my weapon into the door to wedge it open. The Titania in my sword groaned but held. The metal really was incredible. Maybe a bit of edge warping but nothing I couldn't get repaired if the rest of this op went well.

I gestured to Neo and she flickered inside through the tiny gap in the door. She pulled the Don's hand off the button and hit a different one and the door started to open.

I strode inside and Neo unhushed us.

"So," I said with heavy footfalls. "Should I tell you how this plays out or let you guess?" He leaned away from us with fear in his eyes.

I pressed a button with an arrow to the left on his desk, the same way the door was going and the mechanical vault closed behind me, reversing a second time on electric hinges.

Wide eyed, he was locked in with us.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I examined the edge warp on Crocea Mors with a scowl. There were some things that were sacred, some things that should remain as they were. For gods' sake if my mind and body weren't one of them then my sword should be.

The warp wasn't severe enough that the blade wouldn't sheath or anything. And it wasn't in a bad location per se, about midway between the hilt and tip. It could be worse, I decided.

I looked from the blade's edge down at Don Corneo.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow jumped out at me and I turned swiftly, prepared for more of a fight.

There was a secondary security deposit box at the edge of the room. At a guess that was where all the Lien was. Maybe the adrenaline just had me jumpy, was all. I hoped I wasn't going to start seizing. That would be pretty bad right here and now.

I put my sword in the shield and put my face down in Don Corneo's. I said nothing.

"Please…" he begged from his comfy looking chair.

"Listen, my friend here likes to torture people. She likes it a lot. She even gets off on it a little. A bit like you do with honey bee costumes."

He looked over at Neo and she nodded, eyes full of mirth as she loomed over him in those heels. A wicked smile etched in her face.

He shuddered. Maybe he didn't get off on those costumes anymore. "Wait… You haven't even told me what you want…"

I was maybe letting him stew in it.

"You're going to give us all your money. All of it. Every last Lien."

"You don't understand," he pleaded. "Cash is pretty much all I have right now. I'll be destitute."

"You hear that?" I asked Neo. "Cash rich and asset poor."

She smirked up at me. I bent back down over Corneo.

"You have your body. You have your life. You want to keep them?" I pulled out my explosive and stuck it to the smaller vault. Then I slammed his head right next to it.

"Oh please. Oh please. Gods please don't."

"See I don't really need your cooperation. I don't really need you to open this little vault. I can open it and your head at the same time. I can hand you over to my friend here and she'll cut your balls off and she'll like it too. There's only one way you get clear of this mess alive."

I wasn't really going to set it off while we were locked in this airtight compartment. But I could always open the door a little and give it some space. I could maybe survive an explosion like that. Maybe. But I would be none too fresh afterward and we still needed to fight our way out of here.

"Please I'll be nothing. I'll be no one."

"Cut his fingers off."

She held his hand out against the vault wall and drew her blade from her parasol.

"Fine! Fine! I'll open it, I'll do it. Just don't hurt me. Please!"

She cut him anyways and he screamed. His thumb dropped to the floor at my feet. I held his head against the little vault while Neo worked at his hand.

I looked at his desk. It seems the Don got a fancy looking new scroll, too, after Weiss made off with his last one.

"And I want your scroll, too."

He whimpered quietly.

"I'll do it. I'll do it please no more. Please."

Suffice to say we got the safety deposit box open and made off like criminals. I let Neo kill him too, couldn't let him start blowing things up on us or calling his guards.

There were millions of Lien in the little vault. We even had to leave some behind just because we couldn't carry it all.

"A thousand Lien for you." I counted out. "And one thousand for me."

She grinned down at me while I worked. Something nostalgic in her smile. Maybe a little wistful.

I let her think what she wanted. It'd be only cruel to crush her dreams and memories.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

#war of the roses #ff7 #ffvii #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!Jaune arc #rwby #white rose #whiterose #white knight #whiteknight #jaune arc #neapolitan #motion sickness #lancaster #altpower #altsemblance

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

[wherearemyglassesbro]

The DNR au executions in order ✨ Dont read if it’ll make you uncomfortable :)

Murder #1: Alfred Jones is the first to kill. He’s overcome with the feeling of helplessness and can’t mentally handle being there. When Kumakuma gave everyone their first disguised motive, Alfred was pushed over the edge. His ‘motivation tape’ was a video of his parents’ farmhouse burning. It still isn’t clear if it was faked or real but that video hit Alfred like a ton of bricks. He kept up his cheery facade and decided to wait to make his move despite being desperate. He watched his classmates closely, just waiting to see weakness in them. He wouldnt go after a girl or someone bigger than him...He finally decided on Kiku. He was soft spoken and kept to himself so....He’d be easy to get to!! Around 3am, Alfred snuck out of his room and down the hall, knocking on Kiku’s door “Hey buddy uh....Look man I’m having trouble sleeping and I wanted to walk around a bit. Would you come with me? I don’t think it’s safe to walk around alone and I trust you”. Kiku is flattered and he agrees to walk around with Al. Little does he know, Alfred’s got a kitchen knife tucked into his jacket. They walk and walk, Alfreds getting fidgety. Kiku’s confused by his behavior but he understands that this place can make you feel jittery. They arrive at the second floor gate “Ok Alfred-san I think we should head back from here. I’m pretty tired, arent you-?” Alfred throws him against the gate, knocking the wind out of him which gives Al enough time to retrieve his knife and bury it into Kiku’s chest “I-I’m so sorry....I’m so fucking sorry...I don’t want this...I didn’t want to have to do this...But I need to get out of here....” he arranged Kiku’s body to make it look like he stabbed himself and runs away. Halfway back to his room he realizes that his shoes are bloody!! Shit!! So he takes them off to run the rest of the way back in his socks. He washes off his shoes and wears that same pair the next morning when everyone meets up for breakfast. Everyone realized that Kiku was gone way faste than Al expected and they split up into two groups to go find him......”Ding dong dong ding”....”A body has been discovered!!” And it begins.

Execution #1: Cannonball. Alfred Jones has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Gamer, Kiku Honda, is one final stunt! One exclusive show for his classmates! He’s the first to go so everybody buckle up! Alfred is stuffed into a Monokuma cannon! Wowie! The cannon is aimed at a huge target allllll the way across the room. The target is about a football field away. The canon starts to rumble...it gets louder and louder...Everyones freaking out!! And then, the floor opens! And Alfred is shot into a murky pool full of piranhas! Canonball!! His classmates are forced to stand and watch until there’s nothing left of their friend.

Murder #2: Tension rises after Alfred’s trial and execution because that was everyone’s brutal wake up call. This is very real. This is a game theyre forced to play. Kumakuma provides another motive only hours after the trial, calling everyone to the gym to present a stack of money! 20 million dollars to be exact! This is supposed to bribe the greedy ones into killing. Luciana Vargas begins to get cocky. She and Natalya start fighting. And I mean fighting. They scream, throw shit, all that! The others have to intervene most of the time too. It’s getting out of hand. And Nat can’t take it anymore!! Luciana likes to do her laundry at night so Natalya sneaks up on her...very quiet...She’s not wearing shoes, not even breathing as she approaches. And it’s all to easy. She snatched up a scarf and threw it around Luciana’s neck, brutally strangling her and whispering in her ear as she took her final breaths “You bitch...you slimy, nasty, fucking whore...I hate you...I hate you I hate you! I feel no remorse...You snake...You evil, cocky bitch...” The last thing Luciana sees is Natalya’s smiling face. Once she’s dead, Nat stuffs Luciana’s corpse into the washing machine and leaves. It takes three days for her to be discovered....Ding dong dong sing....and when she is, she’s discovered by Michelle of all people. Michelle faints and hits her head super hard on the ground, which makes this an even bigger ordeal. Everyone suspects Nat from the start since the two were fighting so much and the evidence all leads to her anyway. Luciana managed to rip out a few of Nat’s hairs so those were found at the scene....

Execution #2: Eye Of The Beholder. Natalya Braginskya has been found guilty! Time for her punishment! Her punishment for killing The Ultimate Designer, Luciana Vargas, is to face off against 10,000 bees! Natalya is placed in a giant glass bubble which is teetering on a ledge shaped like a hand. Bees are quickly pumped into the sphere! As Natalya struggles while shes being brutally stung, she makes the glass ball shift too much! And in doing so, she and the bees fall to their deaths, the glass ball crashing into the floor 4 stories below! She was beautiful! And her death made sure she would no longer be. Or...no longer...’bee’

Murder #3: it’s almost three weeks after Nat’s trial and none of the motives are working. Kumakuma has presented six motives and everyone has decided to stick to their friedship. That just won’t do. Kumakuma then decides to dig deep into everyone’s pasts, finding their darkest secrets. He slips a folder under everyone’s door...The secrets cause Francis to snap. He can’t take this anymore. Kumakuma is going to release his darkest secrets to the media in 48 hours if someone doesn’t kill. Oh god oh god oh no...Francis’s folder if full of secrets. He slept with a director, gave another actor food poisoning to take his role, drove over a coworker’s leg with a gold cart so they couldn’t perform, all sorts of awful things that he did to secure his career. Things that his poor mother didn’t know. That his sister didn’t know. No one was supposed to know any of this but...him. He couldn’t allow this to get out! This would wreck his family!!! He calmed himself down enough to draft a plan. He wrote out his entire murder plan from start to finish. It was foolproof. (Spoiler alert, it wasn’t). He caught Arthur in the hall as everyone was heading off to their rooms after dinner and guided him away where no one would see, sneaking him into the bath house. It was all coming together...This was going to work...Francis is the ultimate actor of course! He’s been working on Arthur from day one, flirting with him and being nice. He had a feeling that Arthur’s loyalty would come in handy!! Now it was time to put him to use. He and Art stripped and got in the hot tub, Fran made conversation and then offered to wash Art’s hair. Of course Art complied....Then Francis did what he had to do. He shoved Art’s head underwater and held him there. Art put up a good fight, he screamed and fought hard but in the end, Fran was just stronger and heavier so when he finally managed to sit on his head, it was all over for him. Francis didn’t bother arranging the body, he dried himself off and left the scene. He was very stealthy about his exit and he took the long way back to his room just to be sure. His downfall? He smelled like the soap from the bathhouse. That soap is only in the bathhouse. That was the one detail that got him. And when that detail was discovered, his cool facade started breaking, he’d never been so nervous before and even as the ultimate actor, he couldn’t mask his guilt forever.

Execution #3: The Stage Of Kings. Francis Bonnefoy has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Mathlete, Arthur Kirkland, is to put on one final performance! Francis is strapped into a chair in the middle of an ornate stage. He’s dressed as a king with the whole garb and crown. Above him are three chandeliers, one falls and hits the stage on either side of him, scaring the crap outta him and the final one lowers down....lowers down...until it’s right over his chair. And then BOOM!!! In one horrific movement, the chandelier falls on top of him and explodes!! BA BAM!! To signify the end of the performance, black and red rose petals fall from the ceiling and into the viewing area where the other students are and applause plays from the speakers.

Murder #4: Another motive has been presented. This motive is success. ‘If you kill someone and graduate, you’ll be guaranteed even more success than before. Your name will be everywhere, you’ll get many interviews and all kinds of publicity! Media coverage beyond your wildest dreams!!’. This sparked something in Berwald. Berwald has always been the rock of the group. He’s emotionally detached, intelligent and strong. He did very little in the actual trials but if he thought someone was wrong he’d say so. Berwald thought that he’d never be a suspect if he ever did commit something...All he had to do was disguise the crime scene. Plant hair. Contaminate evidence. Move things around. Anything he could to frame someone else! He had a plan. He would kill Matthias, the stupid dancer who he couldn’t stand to be around. Then he’d frame Carmen. He found a pair of the shoes she wore and took them from the supply room, keeping them for himself. It took awhile to get all of the supplies he needed. Tarps, tools from the art room, a bag of blood from the nurses office. Everything was coming together!!! This was going to work!! He could almost taste his freedom! He got too cocky. Berwald followed Matthias, who was blissfully unaware of what was happening, as he wandered around the school. He followed Matthias up to the 3rd floor and cornered him in the red room!!! But Matthias was too fast!! As Berwald went to hit him over the head, Matthias grabbed a Kumakuma bottle and smashed it over his head!! Berwald now had blood running down his face into his eyes! Matthias took this as an opportunity to snatch up another bottle, breaking that one on his head too! BAM!! After a THIRD hit to the head, Berwald fell to the ground and died. Matthias was horrified with what he had done...now he was standing in a puddle of blood, covered in Berwald’s blood...Even though this was technically self defense, he still killed him!! Oh no!!! He rifled though Berwald’s bag and managed to piece together the origional plan! He made bloody footprints with the girls shoes and dumped his own shoes (and the rest of Berwald’s bag’s contents) in hallway garbage can. Jittery and in shock, he made his way back to his room to shower. His biggest mistake was leaving a partial bloody handprint on his own doorknob.

Execution #4: ‘Dance Dance Execution!’. Matthias Kohler has been found guilty! It’s time for his punishment! His punishment for killing Berwald Ox, The Ultimate CEO, is to dance for his life! A ‘dance dance revolution’ machine is set up for everyone to see. Matthias is set up on the machine and must dance at the highest level in order to stay alive. He gets three chances, each misstep makes the machine go faster, demanding that Matthias dances faster. When he messes up the first time, buzzer rings out and strobe lights turn on. Now the his vision is obscured as he dances. The second time he messes up, he’ll hear a buzzer again and the sound of a roaring crowd is pumped into the room, making it harder for him to hear the song the machine is playing. The third time he messes up, the room goes silent, the machine stops and the lights come on all the way to reveal a giant, heavy, metal box dangling from the ceiling. The box then falls, crushing him and the ‘dance dance’ machine too.

“Murder” #5: The students have all been desperate to figure out the mystery of the school. They’ve gone to the bathhouse and student bathrooms countless times to formulate plans to sneak around. They’ve distracted Kumakuma, stolen things from different rooms, found a headmasters key tucked away in the library. They’ve been able to uncover the mystery of why there are 16 trial stands. There are 16 students. What the fuuuck???? They get ahold of Gilbert’s student file and within a day, a body is found. Ding dong dong ding!....Huh??? Everyone rushes to where they hear screams! Up on the 4th floor, slumped against the music room door is Gilbert Beilschmidt!!! The student they just discovered in the files!! His face is mutilated and a chunk of skin on his shoulder is missing. His file indicates that he has a tattoo there to commemorate his first gold medal. Everyone is now rightfully freaking out, everyone suspects eachother!! They go into the trial practically blind.

Execution....#5...?: The trial for Gilbert Beilschmidt’s murder is the most chaotic one yet. No evidence is making sense...But...One little detail. Michelle had gone to the bathroom alone that morning while everyone else was at breakfast at 7:15. And Gilbert’s death was around 7:30 so....She had plenty of time to go kil him and come back before breakfast was over at 9! After that fact came to light, everyone agreed that Michelle was the killer and...she was sentanced! Huh??? Michelle didn’t kill anyone!!! She just barely saved herself by posing the question: ‘Couldnt Gilbert have even killed by the mastermind? Not one of us?’. Everyone then quickly turned on Kumakuma, asking who controlled him. After an hour in the trial room, arguing and yelling, The real Gilbert showed himself in his true, mastermind glory! He admits to being part of the Ultimate Despair. The dead ‘Gilbert’ was just another corpse. A decoy. But the students figured him out. The trial continued long into the night as the students worked through the mysteries of the school, the tragedy, whats outside, all of it. Gilbert laughed and went along with it, encouraging despair to take over the students. “If you convict Michelle, I’ll allow you all to continue living here in peace! But if you convince me~ Well, you have to go. The second I die, the air purifiers will go off! And so will the fridges, air conditioner, water pumps, all of it! You’ll be forced to leave! Go out into that hopeless world you love so much and die there, motherfuckers~”

Execution #5: The Finale. The students all convince Gilbert, they stick together to the very end. Gilbert laughs and laughs, hitting the button to announce his own punishment. He whoops and hollers as he strides into the punishment room, happily straps himself onto a wheel with a target on it. The punishment begins! The wheel starts spinning. Slow at first then faster and faster and faster! Kumakuma robots throw knives at Mach speed, each knife hitting Gil in different places. Throughout his punishment, he laughs and hollers through the whole thing. The students think it’s worse than screams of pain....When hes dead they all get to leave....and see what’s outside...

((I hope this isn’t too rambly lmao alsoooo please don’t think I’m like....fucked up or something lmao aijssjkshdvs))

#tw gore #specs DNR au

[hazbinextgeneration]

A Little Cold Can Go A Long Way

Ah, Hazbin Hotel. A wondrous place of new hope and peace within hell's normally chaotic place....SO you would think that today would be unlike any other. The most chaotic thing you'd expect would just be a fight between guests and staff right?...Well tell that to the mysterious things that kept happening around the hotel. It all started when all the shot glasses exploded. Sending glass onto the floor. Luckily noone was hurt but there was a giant mess. Everyone blamed it on Husk being drunk at the time and his magic going out of control but he insisted it never happened before. Yeah nobody believed him, that was until the kitchen's refridgerator actually came to life and tried to eat Nifty alive. Ok. Husk's magic was powerful but no where near the levels of bringing an icebox alive. It took tipping it and unplugging it from the wall to get it to stop. And that wasn't the end unfortunately. Vaggie broke out in orange polka dots, to which Angel laughed at. A vase flew across the room and smashed into the next wall. A crystal chandelier fell and almost hit Charlie over the head. The stairs became slippery. The basement flooded. Things kept breaking or flying around or coming to life and scaring everyone and no one knew what was happening or how to stop it. ..But everyone got a pretty good idea who it might've been when Angel screamed when he caught one of the bandits ripping through his new expensive dresses and crushing his make up kits into tiny pieces. ...Of course. OF FREAKIN COURSE IT WAS ALASTOR!! Why wouldn't it be him?! Why didn't they make the connection sooner when the radios went haywire? Electronics running wild, powerful magic, crazy shadow....things!? It had his name written all over the darn thing! Why? He didn't care. NO ONE messed with his sh*t and got away with it. Of course Charlie wouldn't be much help. All she did when everyone complained was poke her head in there once before slamming the door closed and giving a nervous grin.  "Uh...H-He's not feeling too good. I-It'd be best if no one disturbed him. Hehe." Of course she'd say something like that. But the VERY last straw was his hair being yanked by a laughing shadow to which he may or may not have tried to shoot dead and instead left a bunch of bullet holes in the walls. Ok. He was tired of this! Mess with him once: shame on him for not realizing it was AL sooner. Mess with him twice: Shame on the actual guy who did it. But pull on his hair?! OH! He was freakin asking for an a$$whopping!! He didn't care if this was one of the most powerful beings on the nine circles of hell! No one messed with his stuff like it was yesterday's trash. Which is why the angry fluff spider marched up to the a-hole's room with enough fury to crack a diamond, and pounded his hand against the wooden thing. The noises echoed down the dark hallway and did a round about to death ears. "AL! YOU CREEPY STRAWBERRY PIMP LOOKIN' MOTHERF**KER!!!" The spider's angry voice echoed down the hall spooking off anyone who wasn't already scared of disturbing the feared Radio Demon. "YA BETTA GET CONTROL OF THIS PROBLEM BEFORE I SHOVE A BAZOOKA UP YOUR-" The door suddenly and slowly swung open by itself making the spider pause mid yell and stare at the thing, catching him off guard. Well...that was weird. He wasn't expecting that. The dark greeted him and absolute silence behind it....After a few awkward seconds he backed away slightly. He maybe have been regretting his descicion slightly. A long pause followed and a small noise finally came out...It sounded like. "*CHEEEEO*!" "What the fu- F**K!!" A gust of wind and a shadow rushing at him was enough to knock the spider onto his rump and a shadow thing coming at him was the spooky cherry on top. He landed on the ground with a thump and watched as the creature smiled at him before zooming down the hall to presumably to cause more trouble. The experience left him dazed and staring down the hall for a bit before another noise made him look back to the doorway. "*cough, cough*......Oh dear." "Al? Oh, f**kin'-" He groaned when he got up and dusted himself off. Straightening himself out and giving an annoyed look inside. "Al you creepy old goat. You in there?" Two red eyes and a yellow fanged smile shown from the dark back to him and another cough sound came from him. "Oh my. Don't you know it's rude to barge into another man's room?....*cough*" "Rude?! HA! Do ya even know what your stupid shadow looking mother**kers have been doin around here?!" His arms crossed except one which he pointed at him. "You're d*m goon messed up some sh*t of mine." He growled. "I don't like my stuff destoyed ya hear?" His head tilted slightly still keeping that stupid grin of his and he chuckled. "Is that so?" He found it amusing the spider was angered so eagerly. He always found things like loss of self control so fascinating. And the way he was looking at him was so amusing. "Well. Quite frankly speaking. It's a little bit beyond my control dear boy. There's a slight static within the radio waves." The spider demon stared confused at him. "....The f**k izzat supposed ta mean?! If I gotta knock 'em back into place then so-" "Achzzzzzzzzzt*!" He was stopped in his tracks by a weird AF noise. The radio demon on the other hand was snapped forward and his eyes became dials of all things, as soon as it came his left. With a shake of his head, his eyes were returned to their normal red form and he resumed looking at the dumbfounded looking spider. "I do beg your pardon." "...What the f**k was that sh*t?" He threw his hands out towards him. The thing had sounded like the f**cker had tried to sneeze or something and all that came out was static. "Are you sick or somethin'?" A clapping sound effect seemingly came from no where as Alastor ever the show off gave a few clap alongs as well...from a bed from what he could tell from in the dark. "What a discovery! What will the amaizing cakeeater do next?" Angel decided to ignore that comment and instead just walked in carefully mind you. He didn't know what else this crazy cook might do, cocking his head to the side, he gave the deer demon a curious look over with his eyes. "...Is everything around here going haywire because you're f**kin' sick?" "It would seem like that definately." Angel sighed and reached one of his hands up to rub at his face. Great. Of course something like this would have to happen today and on the same day his stuff was destroyed too. Without another word, the spider demon turned on his heel and left the room leaving the door wide open. Alastor watched curiously but eventually went back to lying down, giving a few more coughs. He was left alone peacefully for a few hours, during that time letting out a few more unintentional magical outbursts he was sure caused some problems somewhere, before the sounds of approuching footsteps caught his attention and he turned his head to a most curious sight indeed. Angel was back, but he had brought a few things with him. In his many limbs were a tray of food and silverware, what looked like an extra blanket, and a small bag. ..Drugs perhaps? A frown on his face. "...I see you've been downgraded to roomservice." "Oh, shut up." He came walking in and went over to the bed. The first thing he did when close enough was put the small baggy on the nightstand and forcably push him back onto the bed which caught him slightly off guard. ...Out of all the demons he's met, Angel was one of the few who didn't seem to be scared of him. Cautious surely but not entirely scared. The covers were pulled back over him and the extra blanket was thrown on top of the ones he had. Alastor blinked and tilted his head when Angel forced the tray into his lap. "There! I dunno sh*t about this... jumpy-belina stuff you like, but you need something hot in you or else your body is gonna get worse. And dammit I ain't havin' any more of this sh*t. Now eat." He blinked and looked down the food. He was pretty sure Angel was talking about not knowing how to make 'jambalaya', but what he got instead was a plate full of spegetti and what spelt like tea with it. He tilted his eyes back up to the demon with brows raised in question.  "...What? It's like the one thing Im good at cookin'. Don't judge me."  "Oh, Angel. I didn't know you cared.~" For once the spider groaned at his tone, before throwing the small baggy from the small table which landed on his chest. "Just eat the stuff, and take the stupid cough drops I got ya." Before turning and walking out the door he gave the deer one last frown and pointed at him. "You owe me big time for putting up with this bullsh*t." "Oh...I think you'll get someone from me soon. Don't fret dear boy." ******************************************************************** "ACHOO!! F**KIN' H8LL!!!" The spider was curled up on the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and holding it over his head much like a hoody. Poor Charlie had brought him up some food and water but it didn't stop the spider's sour mood and shivering. Alastor on the other hand was amused at this all this. Oh he got something from him all right. He got the idiot's stupid cold!  "Why Angel. You don't look too well? But not too worry." He gave an evil smile. "You'll be compensated fully with me here to take care of you." Angel groaned and face planted into the mattress away from him. 

A Radiodust fic I wrote for my pal @star-the-werewolf All characters belong to Vivziepop

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 8: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Crap crap crap! Nami thought, looking between the two Devil Fruit users. Her night really couldn’t have been going worse. She was disarmed, caught up in the sticky, painful grasp of a perverted old man with way too many arms, one of which was still worming its way inside the deep V of her bodysuit. Then, even if she could somehow escape the tightly wound tentacles, Black Cage Hina herself stood between her and the exit. The woman might not have been a powerhouse, but her abilities were like something out of a Marines’ wet dream, specifically designed to capture wayward pirates like Nami.

Escape couldn’t have looked more unlikely and at this point she was really hoping Law was ok so he could get his ass back inside and rescue her.

“Ah, Hina-chan, perfect timing!” Harpin laughed. Two of his unoccupied arms pointed at Nami, who was trying her best not to show how much the razor-edged suckers digging into her skin had started to hurt. “I caught this pirate lurking around my study. She must be in on the village’s rebellion; I recognize her necklace as one created by my worthless former jeweler. They must have hired her as an assassin. Arrest her at once, my dear!”

The pink-haired Marine jutted out her hip, expression stern and unimpressed. “I’ll gladly put a Straw Hat behind bars, you’ll be going to jail too.”

Black, watery eyes widened. “What?”

Cool as iron in winter, Hina pulled out a cigarette, taking the time to light it before answering, “Didn’t I tell you that my superiors decided my attendance at your party was more important than attending to my duties? That’s because they wanted me to gather evidence that you’ve been selling government secrets and destroy whatever blackmail you have on them; we’re in tumultuous times, and the last thing they need is you churning even more chaos for your own gain.”

“Ah, a honey-trap. Of course,” he chuckled, giving her beautiful, athletic body an open leer. “Not a bad plan, given my fondness for you, but shouldn’t you have been a little nicer to me if you wanted to get your hands on some evidence? Avoiding me all night isn’t a very good seduction technique.”

Hina looked disgusted at the very thought. “I’d rather cut my own face off than allow you to touch me. No, our plan was far more palatable; Smoker had snuck away earlier to mess with the pipes connected to the spa above the ballroom. We were hoping the water damage to the ceiling would catch your attention for a while so we could investigate.”

“And instead, the village’s rebellion, led by Cat Thief Nami, puts all that careful planning to waste,” he said, giving the captive woman a shake for emphasis. Much as the action hurt, Nami was silently grateful, as it dislodged the tentacle still in her cleavage.

A pink eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You really think the villagers are the ones bombing your mansion? How stupid.”

“Stupid? How dare you! It doesn’t matter whether those peasants were in on it or not; it’s the narrative I’ll spin to the papers when they report on tonight’s events. Once word’s gotten out that they sided with pirates over their beloved master, no one will blame me for finally eliminating those slums. I’ve been wanting that eyesore removed for ages, but they simply refuse to leave.”

The Marine captain scowled at his confession. “Then I suppose when I take you in, I can add ‘slander’ and ‘corruption’ to your list of crimes.”

“How are you planning on arresting me, Hina-chan?” he asked with an incredulous laugh. “By force? My rank was comparable to a Vice-Admiral!”

Grey smoke streamed from her cigarette as she replied, “But your strength wasn’t. Powerful as the Ika Ika no Mi is, you rarely ventured onto the battlefield, instead getting fat and lazy behind a desk. And now that you’re past whatever prime you had, I’d say you’re a little closer to my level.” She smirked, cracking her knuckles. “Hina will enjoy this.”

“You should have stayed downstairs with the guests, Hina-chan,” Harpin sneered. “I’d hate to hurt such a pretty face.”

Glancing at Nami, who’d wisely chosen to remain quiet throughout the conversation, Hina frowned in consideration and—surprisingly—a hint of sympathy. “You’re going to jail, Cat Thief, but if you promise to sit tight, I’ll get you out of your sticky situation first. No woman deserves to be manhandled by a creepy squid.”

All things considered, that was probably be the best deal a pirate could get from her, so Nami nodded enthusiastically.

Running forward, Hina extended her arm, clotheslining the two tentacles encasing her wrists. Nami stared in awe as the Marine’s arm went right through them, leaving behind a black shackle locked around each clammy limb. Spinning on her heel, she next kicked her leg through the two binding the pirate’s thighs. The way the rubbery grey flesh immediately began to pucker and swell indicated that the bands were painfully tight, and Nami soon felt their grasp weaken.

“Fuck!” Harpin yelped, though any further curses were cut off as Hina’s fist slammed into his face. The blow knocked him stumbling back, and after another right hook he had no choice but to release his hold on Nami, the shackles on four of his limbs too constricting and the Marine before him too skilled to engage while restraining a thief.

Falling onto her ass with an “oof!” Nami immediately inspected her thighs and wrists, wincing at the angry marks left behind. Perfectly round, thumbprint-sized red rings littered her skin where the suckers had taken hold, the incisions from the chitin little deeper than a papercut but just as painful. A few had even drawn blood, though to be honest, Beatrix’s nails had sunk deeper.

The suckers are designed to capture and restrain, not rend and tear, Nami concluded. Those tentacles are no joke, though. If he’d been trying, he could have pulled me apart like a paper doll!

With a heavy kick to the chest, Hina sent her former superior crashing into his desk, papers and trinkets flying everywhere. Glancing down at the thief, she raised a challenging eyebrow. “I’m not going to waste my time and energy restraining you, but if you try to run, I won’t hesitate.”

“Fine. Wouldn’t want to miss your beatdown of that pervert, anyway,” she ground out, gingerly prodding at her disfigured legs. If she were lucky, Hina would eventually be too distracted with her fight to notice her sneaking off, but she wouldn’t play her hand until the time was right.

Pleased with the compliance, the Marine darted across the room to continue her cathartic thrashing of the ex-head of Navy intelligence, each punch, kick, and slap making her smile wider as she threw him into suits of armor, furniture, and anything else that was in the way.

Meanwhile, Nami took the opportunity to crawl towards her Clima-Tact, hugging the batons to her chest like an old friend. A glimmer from across the room caught her eye as Harpin was knocked into a lamp, and the embossed titles of the black ledgers winked at her as they lay on the floor. After all this trouble, Law would be pissed if she left without them. Quite frankly, now Nami was feeling pretty determined to get them, too. She wanted to read up some more on Jinbei, and that diagram on the Pacifistas could be useful if they ever ran into Kuma again; maybe it even had some information on how his powers worked, and she could use that to track down the others!

On top of that, Hina was right; the world was already in chaos, and people like Harpin shouldn’t be gaining from it.

While the Navy captain was busy repeatedly grinding the heel of her shoe down onto his crotch, Nami took the opportunity to dash across the room, skidding to a halt by the knight’s armor and gathering up the black leather books.

A crash caught her attention, and Nami’s head whipped to the left to watch Hina dodge a fallen chandelier. Haprin’s floppy lips smirked around his beak, hand pressed against a hidden switch on the wall.

Crap, Nami thought. I forgot there were other traps. She froze as Hina tossed her a glare, the thief’s new position not escaping her notice. Double crap!

The Marine didn’t have any time to do anything about the wayward pirate, though, as Harpin decided to go on the attack, using his multiple arms to fling books, debris, and scattered pieces of armor at the women. Nami awkwardly dodged the projectiles, ducking behind the safe. A thought suddenly hit her, and she peeked out from around the corner of her impromptu shield to observe the Golden Octopus.

Despite the beating Hina had given him, he didn’t look all that much worse for wear. No bruises or welts marred his ashen skin, no bones seemed to be broken, and he even seemed to be walking normally despite the testicular trauma Hina must have inflicted. On top of that, the shackles still locked around his tentacles didn’t seem to be slowing him down, either.

Having had more than enough, Hina shouted “Awase Baori!” as iron bars extended from her arms, spanning across the room. The cage smashed into Harpin’s rubbery body, squishing and distorting it as the bars wrapped around him. Maliciously, she raised the bars and the ensnared man as high into the air as she could before slamming him down onto the floor. As he glared at her, she smirked around her cigarette. “Give up. Everything that passes through my body is locked tight.”

The feeling of victory shattered as his scowl morphed into a smug smile around his beak. “Silly Hina-chan,” he sneered, and as if deflating a balloon, his body became thinner and more flexible, squeezing out from between the bars. Even the shackles Hina’d wrapped around his arms fell away, clattering to the floor. Quickly, eight rubbery limbs lashed out, the two powerful clubs slamming into her stomach like bludgeons. “You can’t cage a squid!”

“Gah!” she coughed, the air pushed from her lungs. Six more arms lashed out, striking her across her face, torso, legs, and ass, jerking her about with each surprisingly powerful blow.

Damn it, didn’t Hina even stun him? Nami thought incredulously, doing her best to stay behind the safe and out of sight.

Inflicting more harsh and humiliating lashes against his former subordinate, he cackled. “I’ll admit, your powers are quite the bane of normal men, but they’re useless against me. A giant squid’s body is malleable enough to withstand deep sea pressure, yet powerful enough to fight a sperm whale! It also makes physical blows practically useless. And while squid might not be quite as notorious escape artists as octopi, this flexible body makes your cage and shackles little more than temporary inconveniences. But escape isn’t my plan.”

Before both women’s eyes, Harpin began to transform again, this time growing larger and larger, his whole body becoming that of an enormous squid that took up nearly a third of the room. Each arm was now at least ten feet long and over a foot thick, with the clubbed feeding tentacles extending to nearly fifteen feet. Black, watery eyes swelled to the size of beach balls, and the disturbing beak grew to the point where it could easily crush a melon in its jaws.

Oh, right, Nami thought, cold terror freezing her lungs. Zoan-type Devil Fruit users can fully transform into their animal.

Quick as a whip, one arm wrapped itself around the dazed Hina, the powerful limb pinning down her arms while sharp suckers latched into the skin. The long silk gown allowed her legs some protection, but only from the chitin; the tentacle itself twined about her entire body until she was completely trapped, squeezing so tightly Nami could hear some of the Marine’s bones pop.

“You should have just been a good girl and agreed to be my secretary instead of hiding behind Sengoku,” he said, voice even more distorted now that his mouth was mainly beak. He dragged her close so he could glare at her through one massive, soggy eye. “I would have treated you nicely—given you more than you deserve. All you had to do was look pretty, spread your legs, and know your place!”

Hina bit down on her cries of pain as Harpin gave her another squeeze, laughing at her attempts to remain defiant. “Pity you had to play so hard to get, Hina-chan. At least Smoker won’t have to mourn you long; he’ll join you in Hell once I’ve finished ripping him to pieces!”

“Fuck…you,” she gasped out, glaring down at the hideous creature even as her bones creaked in his powerful grasp.

Looking on, Nami knew Hina was outmatched, and there was little that the Straw Hat navigator could do to help her. It was better to take the chance to run and live, maybe even find Smoker and tell him to help his friend, as unlikely as it would be that he’d get to her in time. Besides, if she didn’t get out now, she’d be next, and if Hina did manage to beat him, all she could count on a one-way trip to Impel Down.

But that pink hair, cigarette, and determination was just far too familiar, and Nami always had a soft spot for female Marines. Plus, she did owe her for the earlier rescue.

“Thunder Ball!” she shouted, launching a barrage of small electric bolts at the giant squid. She knew it wouldn’t do as much damage as a concentrated lightning strike, but it was just enough to distract him, keeping Hina from getting crushed.

Harpin let out what Nami assumed were yelps of pain before he turned his full attention on her. Grey skin sizzled slightly where the shocks had hit—his skin was rubbery, but it wasn’t rubber. Unlike Luffy, Harpin clearly still took damage from electricity. Nami didn’t have time to gloat, though, as one of the clubbed tentacles raised itself high before swinging down, slamming into the floor right in front of the safe, missing the thief as she dodged just in time.

The force of the blow, combined with the time Nami had been standing on the pressure tile, activated the trapped suit of armor, releasing the halberd from the knight’s grasp to fall onto the massive limb. The sharp blade didn’t quite slice all the way through the slimy club, but it did open a deep gash, blue blood gushing out.

“You bitch!” the giant squid cried, pulling the wounded arm back to inspect the cut, shocked that one of his own traps had been used against him.

Cat-like smile stretched across her face, Nami replied, “Oh, that’s nothing. Didn’t I say there would be thunderstorms tonight? Well, it’s not over yet!”

“Are you seriously—” Harpin began, only to be interrupted by a low rumble from above.

As he looked up, a bolt of lightning came down from the forgotten cloud, striking through the center of the arm constricting Hina as it connected to the Clima-Tact. “Thunder Lance Tempo!”

Once more the foul scent of sizzling sea creature filled her nose, and the concentrated electrical blast was just enough to cripple the limb holding Hina, the blackened flesh smoking and oozing blood in places. A horrific scream of agony rang out from the creature, the closest equivalent she could think of being nails on chalkboard. The limb wasn’t severed like Nami’d hoped, but while it still gripped the captive Marine, her face was much more relaxed, the crushing pressure significantly lessened as it flopped on the floor.

However, the Cat Thief now had a new problem; Harpin was hurt, furious, and his enormous, hateful eyes were fixated squarely on her.

Before she could hide herself or cast another lightning strike she was scooped up by a different tentacle, its grip ten times stronger than before, the serrated suckers the size of peach stones and digging deeper into her skin. She didn’t have Hina’s restraint, screaming as he maliciously began crushing her chest, bit by bit squeezing the life out of her.

“You worthless, stupid, wicked twat!” he snarled, bringing her so close Nami could see her pained, terrified reflection in his watery eye. “I’ll make you pay for that! You should have run while you had the chance! Now who’s going to save you, pirate whore?!”

The answer came in the form of Law and Smoker crashing through the windows, the Marine’s thick smoke clouds wrapped around the surgeon’s waist while their weapons locked in a stalemate. Trapped in the smoke were two large barrels of gunpowder. Shattered glass from the windows floated through the air, forcing Smoker to shield his eyes, giving Law an opening to punch him in the jaw, causing him to fling the pirate and the barrels deeper into the room.

Switching his body and the tumbling barrels with debris, Law smirked up at his opponent, patting one of the bombs as it settled next to him. “Gonna have to try harder than that to get these away from me, White Chase-ya.”

“I’m gonna tear your fucking head off, Trafalgar!” Smoker countered still wiping away the glass. His suit was shredded and smoldering faintly in some places while his jitte had a few scorch marks on it. Law must have taken the bombs meant for the third distraction to use against the Marine. Nami had been so caught up dealing with the Baron she hadn’t even noticed they’d never gone off.

Panting lightly, the Heart Captain brandished his cane sword, preparing to strike, only to pause as he took in the state of the room. He’d lost his mask and coat at some point and his lip was bleeding, but at least he was in one piece. More importantly, once he saw what kind of situation Nami had gotten herself into, he used his powers to switch her with one of the barrels.

She barely had time to regain her footing before he ordered, “Nami-ya, a spark to light the fuse, please.”

“Screw the fuse,” she gasped, gulping down air. Her Thunder Lance Tempo crashed through the wooden barrel, quickly setting off the explosive powder, making Harpin bellow as the tentacle was reduced to nothing more than a stump, enormous body flailing backwards to avoid the flames and shrapnel from damaging his face.

At the sound, Law finally gave the creature attached to the tentacle a good look, color draining from his face at the massive sea monster. “Well shit,” he said as he pushed her behind him, ready to fend off further tentacle strikes. “He’s actually a Devil Fruit user.”

“You owe me so much money for this!” Nami practically sobbed in relief, clutching the back of his vest.

“I’ll pay you when we don’t have a fucking squid monster trying to kill us.”

“And who the hell are you?” Harpin snapped, furious that his prey had been snatched from his sticky grasp once again.

“No one,” Law answered coolly, expanding his Room and slashing at the tentacle whipping towards them. It fell to the ground, wiggling and twitching, and Nami sent another blast of lightning at it for good measure.

“The fuck is Trafalgar Law doing with Cat Thief Nami?” Smoker growled to Hina as he slammed his jitte into the tentacle restraining her, the Seastone tip forcing it to go limp as Harpin howled in pain. Once he’d managed to clear the glass from his eyes, he too had decided aiding his companion was a higher priority than taking out his opponent.

“Are you surprised?” she asked dryly as she peeled the suckers from her skin, wincing at the rings left behind. “Perhaps saving Straw Hats is his new hobby.”

“Well, put them in a cage so we can focus on kicking Harpin’s ass!” he snapped as a shadow fell across him.

“Thunder Lance Tempo!” he heard the female pirate cry out, and he whipped around, ready to defend himself, when he was blinded by a lightning bolt flashing right in front of his face.

When the blotchy spots cleared from his vision, Smoker looked down to find a sizzling lump of squid flesh at his feet, the rest of the tentacle gingerly dragging the mangled tip away.

Hina gave Nami a grateful smile, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. “I only have so much energy and would rather let a few pirates gain a one-day head start if it means taking down a man who’s been leaking government secrets.”

Smoker’s eyes widened in comprehension, then narrowed in annoyance. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

Rather than hear out their argument, Nami urgently tugged Law’s vest. “I think the Navy’s got this covered. They don’t need us getting in their way.”

The way the line of his mouth hardened indicated he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, however, when he noticed the three hardcover ledgers she’d scooped off the floor, he nodded in acceptance. Grabbing her free arm, he turned towards the door, but Harpin was already two steps ahead of them, a massive tentacle batting the safe off its pressure-sensitive tile as easily as a cat would tip over a glass of water. Iron grates shot down over the entrance and windows, cutting off their escape routes.

Before Law could use his Room to bypass the gate, another tentacle whipped forward, smashing into his spine and knocking him into a wall, dragging Nami along with him. It was only sheer instinct that allowed him to turn midair and shield the smaller pirate from the hard impact, but as she reoriented herself, she immediately began to panic.

“Law!” Nami shouted, frantically checking to make sure he was breathing. “Oh, God, please tell me you’re alright!”

“Fuck,” he hissed, cracking an eye open as his teeth grit against the pain.

At least he’s alive, she thought, heart thundering in her chest. “Can you move? Is anything broken?”

Despite the obvious distress he was in, he gave a weak smirk. “And here I thought I was the doctor.”

Behind them, Nami could hear Smoker shout “White Blow!” a sickening, squishy sound filling her ears as the blast made impact with Harpin’s rubbery head. Glancing over her shoulder, she found the Marine standing in front of her, thick white smoke billowing from his arms, the dense clouds wrapping around the flailing tentacles like manacles. “Hina, if we live through this, you’re buying me dinner! All you can eat seafood!”

“Fine, but I’ll skip the calamari,” Hina coughed, slamming her Kimono Sleeve into the open wound of the pinned-down club, smirking slightly when the Baron let out a pained scream. The halberd’s gash hadn’t been deep, but even a creature resilient to physical strikes wouldn’t like a metal pole shoved inside a cut.

Unfortunately, their moment of victory didn’t last long, as Harpin had another trick up his sleeve; flexing his stomach, a spray of inky mist filled the room, blinding the quartet of humans, distracting both Smoker and Hina enough that Harpin was able to wiggle his way out of their traps.

“Hahaha! What are you going to do now?” the giant squid gloated, grunts of pain sounding from the pair of Marines. The floor shook as something repeatedly slammed into it, tiles cracking followed by more groans. “You can’t see me, but you’re all easy enough to find; squid are designed to hunt in virtual darkness!”

“Not much of an advantage when you take up half the room, you freaky bastard,” Law wheezed.

Though she couldn’t see her companion, she could feel him gingerly trying pull himself into a sitting position beneath her. Ok, if he’s snarking, he should be ok, she assured herself as she blindly got to her feet. Muscle memory and familiarity allowed her to assemble her batons properly, and following Harpin’s maniacal laughter, Nami tossed her Clima-Tact in what she hoped was the right direction. “Cyclone Tempo!”

His angry shouts told her she’d hit her mark, and with the ink cleared from the air, she was able to blink away the black film that formed over her eyes. Vision cleared, she was startled to find both Smoker and Hina in his grasp, the serrated rings in his suckers puncturing their skin, the muscular tentacles squeezing them like a pair of toothpaste tubes. Smoker looked far worse for wear, and she understood why as the squid bashed him against the floor like a child trying to break a toy soldier during a tantrum.

Seeing the lone thief before him, Harpin laughed again, taking a break from abusing his former subordinate. “Seems it’s my lucky night; all my problems will be solved in one fell swoop! I can frame Trafalgar Law for Smoker and Hina-chan’s murders and for those little information leaks—the World Government will be happy to pin the blame on him over one of their own, especially if it means I won’t release some rather scandalous information to Big News Morgans. Those charges against me will be dropped in no time!” he cried joyously, a third arm plucking Law from the rubble behind Nami, giving all three of his victims a harsh squeeze. “Add in the arrest of all those pathetic fishermen and their families for ‘aiding’ the Heart Pirates, and I’ll finally have my beautiful island all to myself! No more low-class trash or eyesore shanties—just beautiful women and fancy parties!”

His enormous eyes zeroed in on his final opponent. “That just leaves you, Nami-chan. Since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you a choice; be handed over to the Navy with your boyfriend or stay as my pretty plaything. After the trouble you’ve caused me, I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, but I can assure you, it’ll be better than what they’ll have in store for you at Impel Down.”

As Law, Smoker, and Hina cried out in pain from the crushing pressure of Harpin’s grip, Nami ran through her options. The choices he’d offered weren’t even worth considering. She couldn’t run; even if she weren’t trapped, she couldn’t just leave Law and the two Marines to their fates, nor risk Harpin framing the innocent villagers for an attack they weren’t involved in. Bargaining was pointless as the Baron held all the cards. Nami considered pleading for mercy, but she was positive that it would do nothing but stoke the squid’s massive ego and possibly sign herself up for an even worse fate—if Harpin was willing to blackmail his own companions, who was to say he wouldn’t force her to commit any number of depraved acts for the sake of her companions’ lives?

Spying the remaining two barrels of gunpowder, she came to a decision. With a shout of “Cyclone Tempo!” she launched them at him, pleased when he instinctively knocked them aside with his last pair of uninjured tentacles. She had no intention of setting them off; there was too much of a chance that the others would get caught in the explosion.

They did, however, distract Harpin enough to let her dash the twenty feet she needed to reach the entrance.

“Did you forget about the gate, stupid girl?” he called mockingly as he realized where she’d run.

Instead of answering verbally, Nami smirked as she stomped her foot down on one of the tiles in the third row, praying that the mechanisms hadn’t been damaged during the battle.

The result was better than she could have hoped; a Seastone net the size of the room itself plummeted from the ceiling, smashing into the huge, hideous creature, narrowly missing Nami as she sprang back and squeezed her small body against the grate, taking advantage of the narrow shelter provided by the threshold. Loud groans from the four Devil Fruit users rang out, all their strengths sapped but the thick tentacles around the three humans loosening, their rubbery bulk also providing ample protection against the force of the heavy net.

“Cat Thief, I’m not sure if I hate you more or less than your captain right now,” Smoker wheezed. His forehead was bleeding, his nose looked broken, and his beefy body would probably be one big bruise in the morning, but he was still alive.

“Be grateful,” Nami panted, walking out into the room to collect the black ledgers. “Luffy would have punched him through the floor; I at least left the room intact.”

Either the Gods of Dramatic Irony decided such a statement couldn’t be left alone or Luffy had died and his ghost was haunting her, but beneath her feet, thin fissures began to form.

“Smoker,” Hina asked softly, “you memorized the blueprints of the mansion. What’s below us?”

Briefly, Law and Smoker shared a guilty glance. “The art gallery. Which Trafalgar and I might have briefly…tussled in.”

“Tussled?”

“I may have bashed his head into a potentially load-bearing pillar or two.”

“And I may have cut a few more,” Law added weakly.

As the cracks grew wider, Hina sighed. “And of course, below that is the spa, which has surely sustained massive water damage by now due to Smoker breaking the pipes.”

There was no way to deny it—from the battles to the bombs to the sabotage, the structural integrity of the room had been compromised. Comical tears streamed down Nami’s face as she collapsed to her knees. “We’re all gonna die.”

Trapped as they all were, there was no choice but to watch the cracks grow larger and larger before the floor finally broke apart like a jigsaw puzzle. Harpin’s much heavier bulk mixed with the force of gravity caused him to smash through the floors of two more ceilings, finally crashing into the first floor. His squishy body did provide ample cushioning for the Cat Thief, though, as she bounced off his elastic head, landing hard but safely on the floor.

When the smoke cleared, Nami realized that they’d landed at the far end of the ballroom. Most of the guests had chosen to use the room as a shelter instead of evacuating and possibly facing what they believed to be an angry mob of villagers, but Reginald had managed to herd them all into the corner closest to the entrance where it was safest, and conveniently away from the spot Harpin’s hulking form had landed.

Luck was once again briefly on the pirates’ side as the fall had also managed to dislodge Law from both the tentacle and the net, freeing him. Tired, dirty, but not as badly injured as assumed, he unsteadily got to his feet, grinning slightly when Nami immediately rushed to his side, juggling the books under her arm, ready to catch him if he fell.

“Are you ok?”

“Better than I was under the Seastone net,” he assured. “That was quick thinking back there. I’m just sorry you had to face him alone.”

“Is the crew ok?”

“Shachi’s team has some pretty bad injuries, but Penguin’s was able to evacuate them while I took on White Chase.”

She let out a sigh of relief. Of course he hadn’t abandoned her; the others had just been in more immediate danger. He wouldn’t have even left her in the first place if he hadn’t known they needed his help. And once he saw she was in trouble, he’d immediately saved her and was even apologizing for the fact that he hadn’t been there sooner.

He wasn’t Luffy, but she was grateful her temporary captain had her back.

Grey eyes shifted towards the small red circles that littered Nami’s skin, and she could see him taking stock of her various minor injuries. His glare intensified as it landed on the smaller rings wrapped around her upper thighs, his highly intelligent brain easily deducing what she’d gone through while he’d been off fighting Smoker. “Since we’re back in the ballroom, I guess I get to play the part of ‘jealous boyfriend’ again,” he said lowly, dark tone sending a shiver down her spine.

“What?”

Pulling out of her grasp, he nodded to the books under her arm. “Hold onto those while I thank the Baron for his hospitality; I’ve got just enough strength for two more big techniques.”

Bad as their own states were, their host was far worse off, the Seastone net still twisted around his bulbous head, pinning him to the floor as Hina and Smoker lay barely conscious in his limp tentacles. His beachball-sized eyes glared at the two pirates that had ruined his plans before bulging further as his guests began screaming in horror.

“Dear god, what is that thing?!” a woman cried, pointing at their host.

“What kind of monster has Harpin been keeping?”

“Gerald, must you show that form in public?” Beatrix shouted, appalled.

“Miss Bellemere, is that you?” Reginald called out. He must have recognized her mask, or at least Law standing next to her. His eyes widened as he took in her infamous tattoo and mikan hair. “Gracious, you’re a pirate?”

Somehow, despite the giant squid that had crashed through the ceiling, it was the word “pirate” that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

“Pirates are leading the villagers’ rebellion!”

“No, they must have murdered the townspeople and are now here for us!”

“Where are those Marines?”

“They’re trapped under the net with that monster!”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of this!” Kujakumaru shouted, grabbing Law’s fallen cane sword and lunging at Nami.

Exhausted though she was, she still had the strength to sidestep the untrained fop, tripping him before smacking him over the head with her Clima-Tact.

“Nice one,” Law chuckled as he staggered over to Harpin’s pinned form, a sadistic grin on his face as he stared down at the trapped former Intelligence Officer. “Weaklings like him are lucky to be left alive.”

“Law?” Nami murmured in concern, hovering slightly.

Glancing over his shoulder at her, Law’s eyes were filled with wicked excitement and pride. “I said I had the energy for two more techniques, didn’t I? Well, I’ve been looking for a decent subject to test this first one on. So good of Harpin to donate his body to science.”

Before Nami could reason with him to use his powers to get them out of there, a small blade of green, crackling energy formed in his hand. Without even a moment of hesitation, he stabbed it into Harpin’s big, watery eye.

“Gamma Knife!”

A violent tremor rocked the giant squid’s rubbery body as Harpin let out a truly inhuman shriek of agony, blue blood exploding from his beak before going completely still, the spark of life visibly fading in his eyes.

When Law started to sway, Nami grabbed him around the waist, looping his arm over her shoulder and letting him lean on her for support. “What was that?” she asked, voice somewhere between horror and awe.

Panting, he replied, “An attack I’ve been working on. Completely destroys the body from the inside. Figured it was the best way to finish that creep, since external damage wasn’t doing the job.”

Inside, she was torn. Harpin had been a monster, a lecherous creep, an asshole, and a very real danger to the world, Navy and Pirates alike, with the information he had. Even with Smoker and Hina’s testimonies and the ledgers as proof, his extensive connections with the World Government and Underworld meant there was no guarantee that, if left alive, he’d really pay for his crimes.

But in her entire time sailing with Luffy, she’d never seen her captain kill anyone. Not Arlong, Enel, or Crocodile. He left them a broken, bloody mess, dreams destroyed and helpless as the Navy sent them off to prison, but alive. The Straw Hat captain was a reckless fool and a pirate, but he wasn’t a murderer.

Law had just killed a man like it was nothing.

A little part of her wondered if he’d always been planning on taking Baron Harpin Gerald’s life, or if seeing the painful and suggestive marks on her skin had sealed his fate.

Conflicted as her feelings were, Nami didn’t allow her hold to loosen as Law slumped a little harder against her. She could feel his body tremble, his breath coming out in short, staggering pants, his heart pounding beneath her hand.

It seemed her unflinching support was appreciated, as Law gave a tired wink as he activated his Room, spreading it so widely she had to look out the window to see the faint blue edge at the far side of the island.

“What’s he doing?”

“Oh my God, he’s the Surgeon of Death!”

“We’re all going to die!”

Taking a deep breath, Law ignored the crowd’s panicked cries, softly murmuring, “Scan. Shambles.”

In a blink, the duo was whisked from the ballroom to the other side of the island, the Polar Tang waiting in the cove, the rest of the Heart Pirates immediately rushing forward to check on their captain. Law waved off their concerned questions, but Nami shrieked as she was dragged down to the sandy ground as he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. Now she understood why he’d been against using his powers until necessary; doing all that on such a large scale, plus his fights with Smoker and Harpin, was draining.

Her concern only distracted her for so long, though. As she looked around, she realized they were surrounded by solid gold statues, jewelry, the buffet, the ledgers, and blessedly, her dress, leather wallets spilling out of the hidden pockets. Gleeful that not only were they alive but that he’d kept his promise, her grip around him shifted into a grateful hug, her lips unconsciously brushing against his cheek in thanks.

Law opened one exhausted eye. “Everyone start loading up the loot.” The last syllable barely left his lips before his eyes rolled back and he completely passed out in Nami’s arms, head lolling until it was squished against the Cat Thief’s chest.

“Captain!” the crew cried out.

Terrified that she might be holding a corpse, Nami pressed her fingers to his neck, heaving a massive sigh of relief when she felt a steady pulse. “He’s alive,” she assured the hovering pirates, attempting to shift the dead weight of their captain so he didn’t smother himself in her cleavage.

“Holy crap, Nami, you both look like shit!” Ikkaku said as she kneeled down to help, too concerned to even tease her about the fact that she hadn’t even hit Law for using her breasts as a pillow.

“It’s been a long night,” she sighed as they finally managed to maneuver him so he was lying flat on the ground. As if annoyed at the loss of his comfortable headrest, his brow furrowed briefly, but after a moment smoothed out as he fully succumbed to his exhaustion.

There was still work to be done, though, and Nami accepted her roommate’s proffered hand, letting her pull her to her feet. With a quick glance around, she raised an eyebrow. “Hey, there’s no way we can eat everything from the buffet before it goes bad. Load up what you can, but before we go, do you think you can help me get some of these leftovers to the town?”

“The Marines will be swarming the place within an hour.”

“Harpin’s call for backup was already denied and Smoker and Hina were barely conscious when we left. Even if they did wake up, they’re going to have their hands full up at the mansion. I don’t think we have to worry for a while yet.” Despite her stinging cuts, sore muscles, and flagging energy, Nami gave a cat-like grin. “In the meantime, the food’ll make an excellent bribe to convince the townsfolk not to tell them about these caves.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Ikkaku simply replied, “Whatever you say, Nami.”

XXX

Several hours later Nami staggered into her quarters, only pausing to check that all three black-bound ledgers were still on her desk before letting out a sigh of relief and collapsing into the vanity’s plush chair. The work had been non-stop; they’d been short-staffed in terms of loading up the treasure into the cargo hold. Even Nami had been roped into partaking in physical labor, barely even given enough time to drop off her dress and the ledgers and change into more sensible footwear before she’d been put to work.

It couldn’t be helped. The majority of Shachi’s group was recovering in the infirmary, the second mate’s wounds the worst with a broken arm and three cracked ribs. Bepo had seen him try to take on Smoker by himself to protect the others, and according to the bear, he’d be far worse off if Law hadn’t arrived in time to save him.

Speaking of, while Law could have moved all the food and treasure in an instant, it was universally agreed that they weren’t going to wait around for him to regain consciousness just so he could overuse his powers again. Penguin had even insisted on carrying him to his quarters before heading to infirmary to act as interim doctor, the First Mate piggybacking the taller man awkwardly, but refusing any help. It had been kind of sweet, watching him take such a big-brother role, and it confirmed in her mind that the crew cared for each other just as much as the Straw Hats did.

At least her own injuries hadn’t been too debilitating, and once they’d gotten everything they could into the ship Ikkaku had roped Bepo, Jean-Bart, and Clione into helping transport the remaining food into the town. Late as the evening was, the villagers had been absolutely in shock as they stumbled out of their shacks, staring at the massive feast that had been laid out before them. Several had even rubbed their eyes in disbelief, clearly thinking it was some kind of dream. Once they realized what was actually happening, though, the whole town had let out a cheer, and Nami had been blessed with a hug from the little girl from earlier, the child recognizing the thief’s jewelry and mischievous smile.

Nami was a bit sad to have to leave, as the townsfolk had asked the pirates to stay and celebrate the Baron’s downfall, but the navigator wasn’t going to squander that one-day head-start Hina had promised and had immediately ordered Jean-Bart to get them out into the open sea. Once Tokken Island was nothing more than a speck in the distance, she’d handed the reigns over to Bepo; he’d shyly informed her that Law had discussed an escape route and destination before the mission had even started.

Now she was back in her room, finally able to take a moment to herself. Ikkaku would be gone at least a few more hours; she’d insisted on monitoring the engine, making sure the additional weight of the treasure wouldn’t put too much strain on the ship. She’d given the hickey on Nami’s neck a meaningful look, though, and the navigator hadn’t even bothered trying to play it off as one of Harpin’s suction marks. Looking at it in the mirror, she knew that was the right call; only an idiot would assume the plum-colored blemish was in any way related to the bright red rings.

“Pervy jerk,” she grumbled, tearing her eyes from the hickey to focus on wiping off her makeup. “Maybe Ikkaku has a cute scarf I could borrow.”

A brief knock interrupted her musings, so she called out “Come in!” assuming it was Bepo asking for her input on their heading. To her surprise, it was Law who sidled through the door. He was once more in his normal hoodie and spotted jeans, colored contacts gone, dark circles proudly visible under his eyes. The black hair dye was still in, but it would likely be fully washed out and back to its original midnight blue in no more than a week.

“Here for your hat?” Nami asked, indicating the black-spotted accessory on the bed. She’d noticed it when she’d dropped off her things and had planned on returning it in the morning. Even she wasn’t mean enough to disturb an exhausted swordsman just to get his hat out of her room.

Plopping the fuzzy accessory onto his head, Law stood behind the back of her chair, pulling something from his jeans pocket. “Among other things.”

The cool touch of gold made goosebumps rise across her collarbone, and she gasped as she recognized Beatrix’s extravagant, heart-shaped diamond necklace as it settled against her throat.

“Is this—?”

“Let it never be said Dr. Goodheart doesn’t spoil his woman,” he chuckled in her ear as he secured the delicate clasp behind her neck. “Consider it my payment for being my date tonight. I estimate that yellow diamond alone is worth at least ten times the forty-five million belli I accrued for three hours of your company. You can count the other thirty diamonds as reparations for dealing with such a shit host.”

Unbidden, a tiny smile came to her lips. She was good at reading between the lines, and this was definitely Law’s way of begging forgiveness for the absolute shitshow she’d endured because he’d left. To be honest, it wasn’t necessary. After hearing about the state Shachi was in, she couldn’t bring herself to blame him—if that had been Usopp or Sanji or Robin, she’d have done the same.

Not that she was going to let him know that. He might take the necklace back.

“Hmmm, I guess it’s acceptable,” she replied coyly, admiring herself in the mirror. The diamonds sparkled elegantly in the light, the pale yellow heart resting precisely in the divot of her collarbone. “Though with all the chaos, I’m impressed even thought to grab it when we left.”

Behind her, Law’s wide grin was devious and self-satisfied. “Oh, no, I grabbed it when I set the curtain on fire. Even if I came away with nothing else, I was making damn sure I got this after that crazy bitch had the gall to insult you.”

Oddly flattered that he’d put in the effort to get her such a luxurious gift and revenge on the woman who’d dared to call her “cheap,” Nami gave him a soft, genuine smile. She wouldn’t even sell it, since he was being so sweet. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

“You carry it better than she does, anyway,” he replied, thumb idly rubbing little circles on her shoulders. “I think you should wear it to the next party.”

Without the gloves, his hands were deliciously warm against her skin and it was oddly nice to see the tattoos on his fingers again. Like the bags under his eyes, they were such a familiar part of him that she’d unconsciously begun to miss. “Hard pass. Tonight was a clusterfuck, and I think I’ll stick to hitting bars. At least there I can beat the crap out of the horny assholes dumb enough to grope me.”

“Fair.” Carefully turning her chair around, he pulled a small first-aid kit out of his hoodie pocket. From the little white box he removed some gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape. Pouring a bit of the clear alcohol onto a small square of white cotton, he gently dabbed at the scabbed-over cuts on her clavicle. “I promised I’d clean these up when we got back to the ship, and I wanted to get a better look at those suction marks. Did you even bother getting these checked over earlier?” he scolded.

Red crept across her face as she realized she’d completely forgotten about her own injuries. “Shachi’s team needed the medical attention way more than me; I figured I could wait until they were out of the woods.” She winced as the sting of alcohol irritated Beatrix’s claw marks but knew better than to complain.

“Of course. It had nothing to do with you being distracted by piles of treasure.” After carefully taping a wide gauze bandage over the cuts, he turned his attention to the sucker marks. His frown darkened as he got a better look at the rings across her thighs. “In the interest of doing my job as your doctor, I have to ask; were all the injuries you received from Harpin external, or should I scan you for internal trauma?”

Her eyes widened and the blood drained from her cheeks as she registered what he was suggesting. “No I…I’m fine. He didn’t…I mean, he groped me and I’m sure if Hina hadn’t arrived—”

Law held up his hand, halting her uncomfortable stammering. “Again, I’m truly sorry you had to deal with him on your own. I knew he was a creep and a pervert, but I swear I thought he was a normal human—someone you could hold off on your own if necessary.”

“It’s ok,” she assured, anxiously rubbing her arms. She really didn’t want to dwell on what Harpin could have done to her if Hina hadn’t shown up. Given the Marine’s willingness to release her from his lecherous grasp, Nami wondered if she’d been in that position herself, or at least seen comrades treated similarly. After all, he had at least a hundred reported accusations of sexual harassment against him. The Navy really needed to stop giving such monsters seats of power. “I guess I should be flattered that you had faith in me to take out a former Marine officer.”

“I promise to never make that mistake again. Once things have settled down, we’re beginning combat training. Your weather attacks are impressive, but they won’t work in every situation,” he said seriously as he turned his focus to her wrists. Taking a silver tube out of his hoodie’s pocket, he squirted a small amount of thick, grey cream into his palm before massaging it into the thumbprint-sized rings. Cool and slightly minty, Nami could immediately feel it begin to soothe her sore muscles and stinging marks.

“I’m pretty sure the odds are good that we’ll never run into another squid-guy,” she joked weakly.

“True, and I suppose he could have been so much worse.”

“How?”

“Did you know several species of squid are cannibals?”

Stomach churning in disgust, her mind frantically fought against the images that tried to wrestle their way into the forefront of her mind. “Ew ew ew! Oh god, how do you even know that?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement as he worked the cream into the larger circles on her upper arms. “When you spend a lot of time in a submarine, one of the main ways to pass the time is studying the habits of underwater creatures. Clione’s even started writing a book about some of the things we’ve seen.”

“Ugh! Remind me to never read it!”

Squeezing another dollop of cream into his palm, he chuckled. “I make no such promise as his research has been extremely beneficial. Right now, he’s studying a skin and blood sample from one of my own sucker marks to be safe, but he assures me that giant squid aren’t venomous. I am ordering you to report any dizziness, shortness of breath, swelling, or other unusual symptoms, though.”

“Fine,” she sighed as he let go of her arms to crouch between her legs. She jerked violently as his long fingers wrapped around her calf, leg kicking out while her heart hammered against her chest with instinctual panic. With the cream coating his skin, the sensation was far too similar to the texture of Harpin’s tentacles slithering across her flesh. Law must have drawn a similar conclusion, as he mumbled an apology, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.

Nami immediately felt guilty and mentally berated herself. Sure, Law could be forward, but she knew he was no threat compared to Harpin. Yes, he flirted and stared, but if the disgust he showed towards the mere possibility that she’d been sexually assaulted was anything to go by, he wasn’t that kind of threat. She had no reason to be afraid of him.

Taking a few calming breaths, she met his eyes, nodding down at her leg. “It’s fine. Go ahead, doctor.”  

As if she were a skittish doe, he slowly and cautiously placed his hand on her shin, pleased when she remained completely still, even though he could still feel the tension in her muscles. Slow and gentle, he focused on massaging it into her left calf with both hands, keeping his hands where she could see them.

“So,” he began, glancing up at her from his place on the floor, “where are you taking me for dinner?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, eyes locked on the way his fingers splayed out and he rubbed careful, broad circles over each contusion. It seemed he was doing everything he could to make his hands feel as different from the invasive tentacles as possible.

“The dinner you owe me for losing the bet.”

“Fucking excuse you?” she snapped, sitting up straight in her chair so she could properly glare down at him.

A dark eyebrow raised in challenge, though only amusement danced in his amber eyes. “You only got seven wallets before escaping the ballroom. That means you’re paying for our victory dinner.”

“Um, no, I grabbed six more as I ran out,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Did you really?”

“Yes!”

“Too bad you can’t prove it.”

“My word’s enough!”

“It’s absolutely adorable that you think I’d trust your word when money’s on the line.”

Furious though she was, she knew he had a point and she really couldn’t prove that she which wallets were stolen when, so she switched tactics. “That reminds me; you owe me an extra fifty million belli for your shitty intel, and no, the necklace doesn’t count towards that.”

“Do you accept gold bars?”

She blinked, surprised. “Um, sure.”

A narrow shoulder lifted in a relaxed shrug “Then you’ll get your payment after I get that ugly-ass squid statue melted down on Knox Island.”

“You grabbed that?” She’d noticed a few gold statues being loaded up, but in the excitement of all that treasure, she hadn’t really registered that it was the one from Harpin’s office.

“I decided I deserved a bonus for everything I’ve put up with tonight, though I grabbed just about everything of value I could. Even if we couldn’t fit it all in the cargo hold, stealing and scattering Harpin’s possessions throughout the island will make it harder for the authorities to figure out what we actually took until after we’ve sold it.”

“Good thinking.”

His smug grin made it clear he knew exactly how clever he was. A more liberal dollop of cream filled his palm, and without even asking he began massaging it into her right thigh. It only then registered that throughout their argument, he’d finished treating both her calves without her even noticing, if the cool tingle dancing across her skin was anything to go by. He’d easily managed to distract her from his actions, and she must have unconsciously gotten used to the feeling of his hands on her legs, as she barely twitched when his calloused palms touched her.

Unfortunately, she now had a different problem—he was intimately close, hands thoroughly rubbing the cream into the sensitive flesh of her thighs, and hot blood immediately rushed to her cheeks as she took in the picture the handsome captain made kneeling between her spread legs.

“What is that stuff, anyway?” she asked, trying to keep herself distracted, though this time for very different reasons.

“It’s a special salve I developed. It soothes the pain, plus speeds up the healing process. I’ve found it’s damn good on welts, bruises, contusions, and other unseemly blemishes.”

“How do you make it?”

“It’s plant-based, actually. I found a unique type of aloe on a jungle island, among several other interesting medicinal plants. That’s actually why I’m so invested in your greenhouse idea; I’d like to plant some of the seeds so I can replenish my stores once they run low.”

He may be a pirate, but he definitely takes his medical duties seriously, she thought with a hint of fondness.

Nami noticed then that, despite how suggestive his position was and how risqué the area he was massaging the thick cream into might have been, his actions were cold and clinical. He was in full-on doctor mode, all his focus on treating a patient.

It also didn’t escape her attention that, once more, he didn’t seem to be moved by the amount of skin on display. She was still in her skimpy bodysuit, and considering how many times she’d caught Uni, Clione, and others staring at her and sporting nosebleeds, she knew she looked sexy as hell, even with the sucker marks. She knew he wasn’t as easily impressed by women as the others, but did he find the marks that repulsive? Maybe the others just hadn’t been able to properly see them in the moonlight, or they’d been too fixated on her chest to notice.

Except Law also didn’t seem to be flirting with her as much as she’d expected. Hadn’t even teased her about the kiss, or even seemed aware that he’d passed out on her boobs earlier. Was he too focused to bother? Too tired? Or was he just not interested now that she was practically naked?

Deciding to test the waters as he switched to her other thigh, she quipped, “I don’t suppose that stuff works on hickeys, does it?”

“Oh, there’s not a chance in Hell this stuff’s going anywhere near your neck,” he said, glancing up at her with a tired but devilish smile. “I worked hard on that mark, and you’re going to wear it with pride.”

Ok, that was more like the Law she’d gotten used to, annoying as he was. “No, I’m going to slather it with concealer until it goes away on its own.”

His hands stilled their motions as his voice dropped an octave. “If I think you’ve put even a speck of makeup on that hickey, Nami-ya, I may have to leave something a little more…obvious.”

She swallowed hard, red tinging her cheeks. She wasn’t quite she what he had in mind, but she knew better than to ask when he started to get that hungry glint in his eyes. After all, if the hickey was payback for her sunburn prank, his punishment for covering it up was probably the kind of kinky shit Robin had told her about after a few too many glasses of wine on girls’ night.

Forcing away those kinds of thoughts, she huffed, “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood from all the treasure we got.”

Salve thoroughly worked into her skin, Law finally stood. “Things might not have gone exactly as I planned, but in the end, I’d call tonight a success.” He strolled over to her desk, picking up the black ledger marked “Intel,” casually thumbing through it with a pleased grin. “Especially since we got what we came for. More, even.” He tsked sarcastically, grin stretching wider as he took in the various reports and formulas. “Look at all this classified information. The Navy should really send us a thank-you card for taking this away from an unscrupulous bastard like Harpin. I mean, who knows what kind of chaos could be stirred up if it got leaked to the Underworld?”

The sharp, maniacal gleam in his eyes sent tremors down Nami’s spine. “It…definitely could cause problems.”

“Absolutely. Imagine how people would react if they saw what Vegapunk and his subordinates got up to? Why, there’s a whole chapter here on the experiments performed on Punk Hazard—looks like a scientist named Caesar created a chemical weapon that nearly destroyed the whole island. And look,” he chuckled, turning the book to show Nami a complicated chemical formula, “there’s even a recipe.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that as dangerous as such intel was with Harpin, Law might not be much better. He wasn’t like Luffy, who was too good-natured and direct to even consider using such backhanded means against the Navy. Nor was he like Arlong, who would have been too stupid to understand the scientific intel and instead focused on selling the blackmail. Robin and Franky were smart enough to understand and potentially use it, but they had the morals not to, especially if their captain was against it.

Law was intelligent, ambitious, connected, and unscrupulous. It was clear he had some sort of plan for what was in those books, and Nami wasn’t sure she liked it. These weren’t just military codes or dossiers on shichibukai.

This was the kind of stuff that could start an arms race.

White teeth sank into her lower lip. “Considering how dangerous that information is, then, I think we should get rid of those ledgers.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Hina may have only been specifically ordered to retrieve his blackmail materials, but Harpin was already being investigated for leaking classified intel to the Underworld—if the Navy thinks we took more than just gold, they’ll send every Fleet Admiral after us with extreme prejudice. We’re better off dumping them at a Marine base so they won’t consider us a threat.”

“Are you seriously saying you want me to give them back?” Gold eyes flashed with anger, and after hours of staring at the more muted grey, Nami found them all the more intense. She jumped when he slammed the book down onto the desk. “I did not fight a giant squid and nearly get my crew killed for nothing!”

“Wha—it wasn’t nothing! We got all that treasure—”

So quick she could have sworn he used his powers, Law was back in front of her. Long, tattooed fingers harshly grasped the back of the chair, trapping her in her seat. “I’ve told you before; I don’t give a shit about money. The information in those books is more valuable to me than everything in that mansion combined,” he sneered.

Brown eyes widened at his change of tone as she shrank back, immediately on-guard as his threatening aura surrounded her. “Look, Law, I know it’s been a rough night, but you have to listen to me; we can’t let that intel out into the world. I hate the World Government just like any other pirate, but if the Underworld gets hold of those blueprints and formulas, they’re not going to just be used on Marines—innocent civilians will be caught in the crossfire. There will be massacres across the Grand Line, wars could start—”

Leaning in so close their noses nearly touched, his glaring irises filled her vision. “Innocent civilians also get slaughtered to cover up the World Government’s crimes. I’ve seen genocide carried out because of greedy bastards who would rather kill thousands than admit they’d poisoned an entire city. That’s just the way it is, Nami-ya; the weak don’t get to decide how they die.”

Manicured nails dug into the armrests. For a moment she considered backing down, but all she could imagine was all the inevitable death that would come if she allowed that intel to find its way into the wrong hands. Swallowing hard, she replied, “You…sound like you speak from experience. Are you saying that if someone could have stopped that massacre, you would have told them not to?”

“It might never have happened in the first place if the truth that Amber Lead wasn’t contagious hadn’t been covered up!”

She gasped. She’d heard about Amber Lead and the tragedy of Flevance, but was he saying there was more to it than the world had been told? It wouldn’t surprise her, but…

Wait, he’d said he’d published papers on the effects of lead poisoning in children, she thought with dawning understanding. Had he discovered some government conspiracy, some sanctioned cover-up that had led to the genocide of the White City during his research? Was that why he wanted to out their secrets? Why he became a pirate instead of a doctor?

“There’s a difference between releasing information about a disease and selling weapons, though,” she said quietly, desperately hoping her uncombative tone would calm him down. “If those ledgers have methods for curing a disease, by all means, spread the word, but you know as well as I do that the formula to a weaponized gas in the wrong hands will bring nothing but disaster. And if innocent lives aren’t enough to convince you, think of your crew; aside from the Navy coming after you, how do you know whoever you sell that formula to wouldn’t immediately use it to take you out? After all, you could easily play both sides and sell them out for double the profit. A smart man would see Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates as their biggest threat and act accordingly.”

The grip on the chair behind her audibly tightened, and Nami was reminded that this wasn’t Luffy, or Usopp, or even Zoro she was dealing with; Law was a pirate known for his sadism and didn’t have her nakama’s qualms against killing. For a brief, terrifying moment, she feared he might shift his hands to crush her throat, but after a few slow, calming breaths, he dropped his arms and backed away.

His tone was significantly lighter as he stated, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—I’m not looking to sell any of the intel in those books. Especially not the weapons research. It’s fascinating and will make for great bedtime reading, but at most it’s a passing curiosity. Something to entertain me on sleepless nights.”

“Then why go through all the trouble to get those ledgers?” she asked nervously.

“Because they have information I need to achieve my dream.”

“Information that’s worth the Navy and Underworld coming after you?”

The trademark smug smirk returned to his lips. “Concerned for my safety? I really must be growing on you.”

Pale hands fisted on her knees as she glared up at him. “After tonight, people are going to realize I’m sailing with the Heart Pirates; that means for the next year, your enemies are my enemies.”

“True, and we’re both smart enough to know that it’s better to avoid trouble.” As if sensing her need for more space, he backed up until he was leaning against her desk. “If you’re worried about Black Cage, I’m happy to compromise—we’ll take a photo of you burning the Personal ledger and send it to the nearest Navy base. That’s the one I’m the least interested in, and it should lower our threat level in their eyes.”

It wasn’t a bad plan. Blackmail and personal information on the Admirals was generally easier to sell and distribute than scientific research, as even a dummy could recognize their value. If the Marines saw they’d destroyed that, they’d likely assume they’d done the same with the rest so long as the secrets never got out. “What about the rest of it?”

“Like I said, I’m not looking to release anything dangerous, but I see no reason not to study it myself in case we ever encounter those weapons. If I can understand how a poisonous gas works, it’s easier to develop a cure, and that’s something I could certainly bid off to interested parties in the Underworld, or maybe the Revolutionaries would be willing to make me an offer.”

After the way he’d been acting, he was sounding a little too reasonable, instantly raising alarms in her mind. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“After everything we’ve been through tonight, you still doubt me?”

“Yes.”

He frowned briefly but didn’t seem surprised. Then again, he’d just lashed out at her over a misunderstanding—he’d be an idiot to assume she’d blindly trust his word. “I appreciate your honesty, at least. I suppose I’ll just have to find a way to prove myself.” Picking up the ledgers, he playfully tipped his hat. “Of course, I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t trust leaving these with you. You might do something stupidly noble like destroy them before I can get what I need.”

“And what exactly is it you need?” she pressed.

As he opened the door, he grinned over his shoulder. “Now I’m not sure you’ve earned that information, Nami-ya, but you have time to change my mind. If you manage to show me I can trust you by the time we reach the Isles of Grimm, I’d be happy to discuss it over dinner. I’ll even concede the bet as a show of good faith.”

Much as she wanted to argue, the navigator knew better than to risk sailing back into a storm. Law had proven that night that he was loyal to those he worked with and wasn’t completely without honor. On the other hand, he was still willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, and anyone who got in his way would suffer his wrath. He had his own morals and plans—ones that might not coincide with hers.

Most importantly, he had the book on the shichibukai. It was clear he wouldn’t let her near the ledgers if he thought she might use the opportunity to double-cross him. If she had any hope of getting the information she sought on Jinbei and Kuma, she’d have to play nice and not rock the boat until she had her opening.

“Fine. But you’re going to have to work a little harder at earning my trust too, Trafalgar. I mean it when I say I don’t want any of those weapons specs finding their way to the Black Market.”

“A reasonable enough request. Now get some sleep, Nami-ya. If those marks haven’t faded in the next twenty-four hours, come to the infirmary for more salve.”

On that doctorly order he closed the door, leaving a concerned and confused navigator to stew over the night’s events.

#lawna #lawnami #trafalgar law #law x nami #nami #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #Cat Thief Nami #trafalgar law x nami #trafalgar D. Water Law #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #op fanfiction #one piece shipping #black cage hina #white chase smoker #one piece smoker #nami (one piece) #Fic: Welcome to the Heart Pirates #heart pirate nami #heart pirates #dr. heartstealer #straw hat nami #pre-timeskip #post-marineford #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic #fanfiction.net

[ducktracy]

100. buddy’s theatre (1935)

release date: april 1st, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: ben hardaway

starring: jack carr (buddy), bernice hansen (cookie)

the 100th cartoon overall! crazy to believe, huh? we’ve certainly come a LONG way. i sometimes think “man, this stuff is definitely unpolished” but then i think of cartoons like sinkin’ in the bathtub and eat my words. the challenge is only 10% complete, but i’m fine with that! the good stuff is just ahead! for now, in a rehash of bosko’s picture show, buddy runs a theatre and shows off some gag reels, including a fight between cookie and a gorilla.

if the title reading “BUDDY’S THEATRE” wasn’t enough of an indicator of what this cartoon entails, the short opens to a big sign advertising buddy’s theatre, a steady stream of moviegoers heading in. buddy’s at the ticket booth, merrily handing out tickets to his patrons. he pardons himself to take a call, and a baby hiding beneath the booth swallows a dangling line of tickets. when buddy glares at a man in line after his call, the man points to the offending baby. blessed be cartoon physics as buddy uses the baby as a ticket dispenser, a creative and amusing gag. more patrons come by, including a woman who buys a ticket for one bur is very clearly hiding her short husband in her jacket. the baby has no more tickets to spit up, and buddy declares the movie sold out, giving the baby a lollipop to pacify its cries.

buddy happily executes his duties, scooping up a tower of film reels and carrying them up an interminable staircase. he tries to get into the projection booth, but with little luck. the door’s jammed. he manages to finally yank it open, but the force sends him toppling over the staircase, sliding on the banister with his belly. he scoops up all of the falling reels, one by one, sliding across the floor and crashing right into the wall.

inside the theatre suffers a man on the end row, constantly having to stand up to let people in. eventually, he becomes so frustrated he rips the seat from the floor and places it in the aisle, glaring. it’s simple, but very amusing—cartoons allowing us to watch what we’ve always wanted to do.

in the projection booth, buddy proudly displays a poster of cookie. he talks to the poster and says that he’s gonna run her movie, giving her printed face a kiss. cookie’s just everywhere! she’ll be in mexico or the old west with buddy, and she still has time to make movies. buddy slides the film in the projector, lighting a candle to project the light. he pops his head out of the window and says “just a minute, folks! just a minute!”

a looney tunes staple as various curtains part, including a clothesline, to reveal the spectacle. we begin with a news reel, “PASSÉ NEWS, IT SHRIEKS FOR ITSEF”. a chick hatched from an egg pounds its chest and shrieks the obnoxious call of the wild from buddy of the apes.

first order of business is in “dome, italy — premier mausoleum again lowers age limit for army service”. in the streets of italy march a line of babies, giving benito mussolini a salute. meanwhile, in “yodel, switzerland (i love my puns but come on, this is weak!) — swiss navy launches it’s newest battle cruiser.” two men shake hands, one of them smashing a bottle against said battle cruiser. immediately, the ship sinks. one of the men shrugs and says “well, here today, gone tomorrow!” and they shake hands once more.

back to buddy in the projection booth as the film ends. the film strip tears, but it’s nothing a quick hammer and staple can’t fix. well, he’s efficient! even daffy was smart enough to use film glue in daffy duck in hollywood, and considering that’s when he was purely a caricature of himself and just completely looney, that’s saying something. buddy swaps films, and changes a misplaced “attractions coming” to “coming attractions”.

a baseball (reused from buddy’s bearcats) flies towards the screen and advertises “the SMASH HIT of the CENTURY — three years in the remaking”. various planes fly towards the camera, messages on each propeller. “IT’S GIGANTIC”. another one, “IT’S STUPENDOUS”. another, “IT’S COLOSSAL”, “IT’S SUPER-COLOSSAL”... one flies up and crashes to the ground, reading “IN FACT IT’S ALMOST MEDIOCRE”. a tried and true gag, but always amusing nonetheless. i especially love daffy’s rendition of the gag in yankee doodle daffy, it’s much better with his showboating, extraordinary attitude.

the screen advertises “don’t fail to see JAMES BAGKNEE — ‘HERE COMES THE GRAVY’”, a reference to the 1934 film “here comes the navy” starring james cagney. battleships fire cannons, which even fire into the audience watching. the audience all duck in their seats to avoid getting walloped by a cannonball.

finally, it’s cookie’s big break. “WARMER BROS. present ‘the CHINCHILLA’ starring COOKIE — a phoney vitamin production”. “warmer bros” is a reoccurring gag, but i love the “phoney vitamin production”, a reference to “a vitaphone production”. cookie’s playing the piano and singing, while a lovestruck buddy sighs “ain’t she sweet!”

a very obvious take on king kong. a gorilla, the “chinchilla”, climbs through cookie’s window. buddy shouts “LOOK OUT, COOKIE! LOOK OUT!”, but she can’t hear him (unlike bosko and honey in bosko’s picture show). cookie spots the gorilla and slams the piano lid on its head, which does little to ease its anger. the gorilla gets its feet stuck in the strings of the piano as it leaps after cookie, cookie jumping out the window and dangling by a tree branch as the gorilla frees itself.

buddy ceases the film, crying “i’ll save you, cookie!”, tugging a rope that slides the projection screen over to a clothesline. the gorilla leaps out of the movie and lands right into a pair of pajamas. buddy tosses a strip of film like a grappling hook, tying it around the chandelier of the theatre and swinging right into the gorilla. buddy whacked him away with a piece of board, dragging the projection screen back over where cookie is still in peril. once more he yells “i’ll save you!”, grabbing a step ladder and jumping right into the movie... or through it. interesting to note that the screen bulges around on the ground as buddy fights... and so does cookie? there’s another spot where cookie was supposed to be, but it’s as though the animators forgot she wasn’t actually there. buddy pops up from the crumpled screen in a daze as we iris out.

bosko’s picture show is the superior entry, sorry buddy! this one felt rather tedious. the gags were slightly amusing, but nothing laugh out loud worthy. i did love the baby regurgitating tickets at the beginning, though. it’s obvious they tried to emulate bosko’s picture show, trying to have a big climax where the love interest is in trouble and the protagonist saves her, but it just didn’t work. buddy’s infatuation with cookie was amusing, if not borderline creepy. not much to add, though. probably safe to skip.

link!

#lt #buddy’s theatre #reviews #long post

[literary-spirit]

Confessions of a Mikaelson: Possessing the Bennett

*Warning there's not only smut in this chapter, but there'll also be a crap ton of lemonade throughout this story. It's rated M for a reason, my fellow Bonnie lovers. So if you're not with it then I'll completely understand and for those of you who wish to proceed, please remember to buckle your seatbelts and strap on you helmets, this road is cluttered and broken.* Okay so Francesca and I are working on something new. This WIP begins at the end of 01X01 TVD and swerves recklessly out of the canon plot line into a very strange AU! So you've been warned! Flame it or acclaim in comments. I'll leave it up to the Bennett Fandom on whether this hot mess of a WIP lives to see another update!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

Bonnie Bennett glared down at her smashed to hell pager. "Fucking, fuckery, fuck!"

She cringed after the string of no-no words leapt from her mouth. Unholy hell. Well, that would be another fifteen dollars for the swear jar. Her Grams had created the damn thing before she passed away. It was meant to help her broaden her vocabulary now it would probably be what put her through college.

For reasons she never really wanted to consider, she still faithfully added money to the jar whenever one of those slippery bastards (swear words) tumbled from her lips. Which fortunately only occurred when she was upset, stressed, depressed, bored, or angry. Okay, when she reflected upon it, half of her verbal interactions consisted of inappropriate phrases. Who the hell was she fooling? Her tongue had never met an explicit word it couldn't commit to.

Her glare left her broken pager to assess the front wheel of her bike. The damn thing had nearly folded in half. Well, it could've been worse. Instead of Caroline Forbes making her crash her bike into one of the wooden poles of Wickery Bridge, she could've simply knocked her over the rail. Bonnie wondered if the vapid bitch would've stopped then. She shook her head. Probably not. Why would she?

Bonnie Bennett was selectively invisible to the Mystic Falls' High elite. The only time any of those beautiful vultures ever acknowledged her was when they wanted to score some mushrooms and organic Mary J from her Grams garden or if they wanted to purchase a term paper. Other than that, she could walk down the halls bare assed wearing nothing but a smile and no one would raise even a threaded eyebrow. However, their impaired vision on all things Bonnie Bennett suited her just fine. She preferred living her day to day in between the lines. It afforded her certain privacies those who basked in the spot light were denied.

Yet, that evening she could've used just a bit of the spotlight. Not only was her bike a fucking tragedy, but her ankle was busted all to hell too. Without a ride or a phone, she'd have to limp her happy ass all the way home. Unless, the caretaker of the Mikaelson Estate took pity on her and allowed her to call a taxi. Bonnie didn't hold out much hope, though.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time the old crusty son of a bitch opened the wrought iron front gates. Maybe it was the last time the Mikaelsons were actually in residence. But when the hell was that? She'd lived in Mystic Falls all of her life and she'd never so much as caught a glimpse of the family. Talk was, they travelled year round and the Mikaelson Estate was only one of many properties they owned. And if rumors danced close to fact, then the residence should be in possession of at least one damn phone.

Not wanting to linger any longer on the bridge which hosted a shit ton of animal attacks, Bonnie struggled to drag her bike to the grassy area under the Wickery sign. Once she chained it to the wooden pole, she began to limp towards the Estate. It took her fifteen slow as shit minutes to reach the intercom outside the gates. To her surprise the house twinkled with a dozen or so lights too many. A frown crumpled her face. Normally, the house stood cloaked in shadows around that time of evening. For a brief second she found herself hesitating to press the intercom button. However, the aching throb of her ankle gave her the motivation she required to ring the caretaker.

A few moments after the crackly sound subsided an elderly voice answered. "Yes?"

"Hi," she said, trying her damnest to put on her sweetest good girl voice. "I just wrecked my bike on Wickery Bridge and broke my pager. Would it be possible for me to use your phone?"

Without explanation the intercom went silent. When she moved to press the button again, the gates swung open. Her eyes nearly hit the paved driveway at the sight of an old school Bentley pulling to a stop at the entrance. Seconds later, the—older than sand—caretaker exited the driver seat and shuffled around the car to open the back door.

Bonnie hobbled over to the car. Once there, she eased herself into the back seat. After closing the door, it took him every bit of eight minutes to reclaim his seat behind the steering wheel and another ten before he pulled the Bentley in front of the huge French glass double doors at the front of the Mansion. Deciding not to wait another twenty minutes for the caretaker to open her door, she slid from the backseat.

By the time she'd limped to the entrance, the caretaker had pulled the car away from the front of the house. Soon as she teetered to a stop on the proverbial welcome mat, the doors swung open. The air thickened right before several intoxicating forces nearly knocked her to the ground. An electric pulsing sensation shot from her center and surged through her vessels. The pulsating pooled in the palms of her hands, while forcing its way outward to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin. It was almost as if the intense vibrations deep within her responded to the pounding energy pouring from the mansion.

Bonnie stood on the fucking precipice. Her spidey senses told her that if she leaped nothing in her world would ever be the same. If she turned back now her life would resume unchanged. Being a habitual creature who never deviated from patterns or set routines, she knew the choice she should've selected. However, the draw beyond the threshold appealed to her way more than the comfort of her normal resting state. She inhaled enough oxygen for two and stepped inside before she had the chance to second guess her sanity.

Once inside the doors automatically closed behind her. Bonnie barely took notice. The spacious ornate foyer held her focus. Truth was, she didn't know what the hell to ogle first. From the massive crystal chandelier suspended at least sixty feet off the ground to the floor to ceiling marbled columns, everything vied for her absolute attention.

She couldn't believe people actually lounged in such a cushy lap of luxury. She'd never seen anything so...lavish. Not even Zach Salvatore's Boarding House could hold a blow torch to the Mikaelson Estate and his mansion was believed to be the nicest in town. That's if one didn't count the Lockwood Plantation. And she didn't. The slave quarters the Lockwood's still maintained on their property snatched them right out of the running.

The fine hair stood on the back of her neck as goose bumps pebbled the skin on her arms. She was being watched. Of course she was being watched. Whoever maintained the place alongside the caretaker probably wanted to make sure a few priceless knick-knacks didn't find its way into her pockets.

"Hello," A feminine voice greeted her from behind.

She limped around to face the owner of the voice. A sophisticated middle age lady stood before her looking like she'd just taken a bath in one percent privilege. The ends of her silky blond hair fell a couple of inches below her jawline in a professionally tapered bob to frame a passingly attractive oval shaped face. Tasteful, but expensive jewelry twinkled from her ears, wrist, and neck. The low-key touch brought a little more glamour to the understated white sundress she wore. After a head to toe assessment, she concluded there was no way in hell this woman was the housekeeper.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Hey, I'm Bonnie Bennett." The woman's assessing blue gaze slightly flared with recognition. "I wrecked my bike a couple of hundred yards back on Wickery Bridge and totaled my fucking pager." Shit! Another five dollars for the swear jar. She squeezed her eyes closed. "Sorry, didn't mean to swear," she mumbled before retraining her gaze on the older lady who looked more amused than offended. "But in my defense this day has been a total shi-..." she shook her head, "never mind. Would it be okay if I used your phone?"

"Absolutely, Miss Bennett," the woman said, while strolling further into the foyer. "And before I misremember my manners allow me to introduce myself. I'm Esther Mikaelson."

Surprise stretched Bonnie's eyes wide. No fucking way! Wait until the founding families got an ear full of this news. Carol Lockwood would no doubt wet her panties when she heard the Mikaelsons had come to town. She mentally shook her head as she limped forward to grasp Mrs. Mikaelson extended hand.

The corners of the woman's mouth travelled south under the weight of a frown as she gazed down at Bonnie's sneakers. "Were you harmed?" Mrs. Mikaelson questioned as her intense stare reestablished eye contact between them.

"Think I sprained my ankle," she said, while lifting her injured limb. "I'm sure it'll be fine once I get some ice on it, though."

Esther's brow puckered. "Finn!"

"Yes, mother?" A tall—totally fuckable—man appeared from behind the same door Esther exited.

"Miss Bennett-,"

"Miss Bennett?" He questioned with an arched brow.

"Yes...Miss Bennett, this is my eldest son Finn," she shot the man a pointed glare before continuing. "Miss Bennett has unfortunately injured herself during a biking expedition. Would you do a great kindness and carry her to the beige and gold sitting room?"

"That's not necessary. I can walk-,"  

"Of course, mother," he said, before turning to approach her. The atmosphere around him crackled. Waves of intoxicating energy seeped from him and tentatively swirled around her, all while taking care not to make contact. The temperature of her body crept north. When he towered over her, he paused, "May I, Miss Bennett?"

"Really, it's not-,"

Without giving her time to finish her sentence, he lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing more than an arm full of feathered pillows. He then swiftly made his way deeper into the mansion. After a few minutes of sprinting, he stopped in front of a set of closed doors. An array of voices drifted to them from inside the room. Finn took a step back to allow Esther to enter ahead of them.

Upon the opening of the door, a wall of highly charged energy slammed into her and lit her the fuck up. Her body temperature sky rocketed and leaped off the damn meter as if she'd been tossed into a hell blaze. Combined magnetic forces pricked at the exposed surface of her skin. She became extremely cognizant of Finn's hard frame firmly pressed against her side. A fantasy of her running her hands over hills of rigid muscles while he stood before her in all his bare ass glory, blasted away her conscious regard for shame. Without out grazing two thoughts together, she began to rub her cheek back and forth over his pec. The growl her actions elicited provoked her nipples to tighten almost to the point of being painful.

"Well, well! Look what the Finn managed to drag in, Bekah," a boy with precision cut sable tresses snarked from his place in one of the armchairs positioned in front of the fire place. He watched her with unblinking chocolate brown eyes that was downright predatory in nature. His calculated serial killer stare should've scared her crapless. Yet, all she could manage to think was...hmm, dessert! "Do say you're intending to share, brother." Finn's hold tightened around her.

"Curb your vile tongue, Kol. Miss Bennett is a guest in our home and you would do well to honor her as such." Esther hissed as she impaled him with a glare that would've made Satan piss his pants.

Guest? She just wanted to use the damn phone.

"Bennett?" A jaw dropping blond bombshell questioned from a satin bronzed sofa.

Finn gently placed her on the opposing loveseat. "Yes, Rebekah. This is Miss Bonnie Bennett." His slightly timid gaze found hers as he positioned a pillow under her ankle. "Miss Bennett, these are my siblings Kol and Rebekah."

Faster than her eyes could track, Rebekah shot from the sofa and reappeared again as she placed Bonnie's ankle in her lap.

"Fucking, fuckery, fuck! Am I having a stroke or did you just imitate a fucking Lambo?" Shit, another twenty for the swear jar.

Rebekah's mouth fell open and a chortle tumbled forth. Finn tsked his expression absolutely scandalized. Esther's eyebrows leaped into her hairline and Kol...wait...where the hell was Kol? Moments later she was lifted from the loveseat cushion and resettled in a hard bulging lap. Cool lips nuzzled the crook of her neck as something steamy floated from a tea cup that hovered in front of her face.

"Sweetness, your wicked terminology enflames me. Curiously, I find myself longing for the affordable affections of an all too willing dockside harlot," Kol whispered next to her ear. "Here, have some tea while it's still warm. It'll do wonders for your injured ankle."

With no further warning, Kol placed the tea cup to her lips and spilled the contents down her throat. To prevent herself from, choking she swallowed the metallic tasting tea. As she drank her thoughts spun the hell out in her head. How the...where the...something was extremely twisted about the Mikaelsons. Strength, beauty, and speed. She felt as if someone had dropped her off in a damn Twilight flick. Had she been one of those drugged out hippy, dippy, students Grams used to invite over for dinner, she'd truly believe herself to be in a house overran with vampires.

"Mother, will you not correct Kol on his forwardness in regards to Miss Bennett," Finn demanded, while attempting to commit visual homicide on his younger brother.

"Kol," Esther spit, her tone warning.

The caretaker appeared in the open doorway of the room. "Lady Mikaelson, Lord Niklaus wishes you attend him on the telephone."

Telephone? That's what the hell she needed!

"Excuse, Miss Bennett. I won't be but a moment," she rose from seat next to a large paned window. "I'll receive the call in my study Hannibal." She sashayed from the room and the door softly clicked closed after her.

"Oh, brother of mine. Celeste has yet to launder our unmentionables." Kol paused to blow a stream of cool air in her ear. The walls of her pop rocker quavered. "Why not preoccupy yourself with sniffing mother's soiled knickers. Your absence will allow Bonnie and me an opportunity to become better acquainted."

After she finished drinking the tea, Kol pushed the cup and saucer into Finn's hands. She opened her mouth to bless him with some more of her, wicked terminology, when she noticed the throbbing in her ankle stopped.

Flexing her ankle back and forth, she side eyed Kol. "What the hell was in that tea?"

"Family recipe," he said with wide guiltless doe eyes. He, however, looked about as innocent as a wolf covered in blood and feathers.

Rebekah snorted as she stroked her now apparently uninjured ankle. The vibrations which pulsed from the tips of her fingers triggered her to squeeze her thighs together to assuage a whole other throbbing. When the youngest Mikaelson licked her painted rosy lips, liquid heat flooded Bonnie's center. What the fuck? When had girls ever done it for her? Not that a boy had ever done it to her, but still. All her crushes over the last few years were geared towards the opposite sex. She'd never thought about a girl in such a way.

Uncomfortable in her own damn skin, Bonnie hopped from Kol's lap to put distance between her and the Mikaelson siblings. "Look, I just needed to use the phone. But since my ankle is-,"

"Brilliant." Rebekah climbed to her feet and grabbed her wrist. She then dragged her towards the door. "You can use the one in my room." When Kol moved to follow, Rebekah speared him with an over the shoulder glare, before saying, "no boys allowed!"

                                      ****

Rebekah covertly watched Bonnie Bennett through her lashes as she painted the tiny witch's toes. Nik's spies in Mystic Falls hadn't exaggerated. She was exquisite. Her smooth bronzed brown skin appeared to be quite edible. The way it stretched uninterrupted over her hills, peaks, valleys, and dips, compelled her tongue to glide back and forth across her bottom lip. She couldn't refrain herself from imagining the lovely dove stripped bare and reclining in the center of her bed with her luxurious chocolate tresses fanned out about her head. Quite the fetching sight she'd make to be sure.

Vanilla, coconuts, and the sensually mouthwatering scent of arousal tempted Rebekah's nostrils. Her core clenched as a hint of a smile flirted with her lips. It pleased her to know the witch struggled with her lust as well. The proof saturated the air with her delectable fragrance. The sweet attar, teasingly baited and ensnared them. Even now Kol stood vigil outside her bedroom door. While Finn had abandoned his perpetual crusade of self-loathing to recite aloud, Napoleon's love letters to Josephine. In verity, they'd all become rather batty for Bonnie.

If the witch caused this big of an uproar in the house of Mikaelson before the manifestation of her powers, they would all be raving lunatics after her quickening.

"What'd you think, Dove? Do you fancy them?" Rebekah questioned, while tightening the top on the nail polish.

The witch's enthralling green eyes slightly narrowed as she peered down at her toes. "Um...they're really red."

Rebekah rolled her eyes as she placed the fingernail polish back on the night stand. "How perceptive of you, Miss Bennett," she said, allowing sarcasm to thread itself through her tone. "Do you have the inclination to inform me on the blondness of my hair as well?"

"Whoa, there's no need to take the leash off the bitch. All I'm saying is-,"

"Hmm..." The witch's sentence skidded to a halt when the blonde original began to massage her shapely calves. "What were you saying, Dove?"

"I..." the little beauty paused to swallow. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh..." she murmured, while she allowed her fingers to inch up Bonnie's jean clad thigh. "Well, I'm relieved. The task of pleasing you is extremely important to me." The heel of her palm connected with the lovely dove's crotch.

A breathy moan crept from the split of the witch's lips. "Rebekah, I'm not into...ahh...ooh..." Bonnie whimpered as the youngest original began to grind her hand into her witch's denim clad mound.

"Shh, Dove," she whispered, while urging the witch to lie back on the pillow-top mattress. "It's just us girls..."

Rebekah moved to straddle Bonnie's lap. She then leaned forward and brushed her mouth against the witch's to gauge how receptive she'd be to a kiss. The Bennett witch's arms slithered around her neck and drew her closer. Once Rebekah's mouth loomed over hers, she lifted her head from the mattress to close the distance. Since her lovely little dove initiated the kiss she allowed the tiny witch to take the lead. However, when it became blatantly apparent she'd never been properly snogged, the original reclaimed control.

With the tip of her tongue, she traced the seam of Bonnie's lips. A moment later the witch opened her mouth and granted her entrance. The sweet taste of her extracted a throaty moan from Rebekah and motivated her lower half to grind into Bonnie's. Pretty soon the witch's hips began to rise from the mattress to meet her wild writhing thrusts. Each of their whimpers and moans climbed in volume until their lips tingled and the press of their joined mouths could no longer suppress the sounds.

[snowpeawritings]

8. Yukiko's Castle

Philemon seems to enjoy seeing his Wild Cards live on with their lives…

insp.

Persona 4 Golden X FeMC!Reader

———————————————————————————————————–

"What the...? A castle!?" Chie exclaimed. "Y'think this is the place they showed on TV last time?" The castle looked exactly like it was shown from the Midnight Channel, with the line of horses and everything. But somehow seeing them up-close made it look eerie.

"You're positive that no one's behind a camera for that bizarre midnight program?" Yosuke asked Teddie.

"Program...? I don't know. Maybe people on your side can see stuff in this world. It might be that. And I told you before! There's only me and Shadows here! There's no 'camera' stuff going on. This world has been like this from the beginning."

"'From the beginning'...? That's what we don't understand!"

"Izanami." You said to your Persona, straying from the others conversation

"Yes?"

"Did you already have a conscious when you still weren't summoned or were you just in, like, a hibernation state?"

Izanami pondered, bringing her clawed hand to her chin. "I don't think... Maybe. But it is rather hard to explain. You could say I was conscious but somehow I can't move at all."

"Like a coma?"

"If that's what you call it, then yes. However my mind is like a newborn child; undeveloped and fragile. If taught well it will blossom into a beautiful, intelligent, being."

"Is that your ego I hear?" You joked.

"No. It was just to describe the human mind. The mind is much more powerful than you think." You felt someone push and saw Chie running inside the castle.

"Chie!" You called out.

"Geez! We better follow her!" Yosuke said. You, him, Teddie, and your Personas ventured inside the castle. That is until Teddie tugged you back.

"Um, Sensei. I want to give this to you. I gathered all of this stuff so I thought I might give them to you." He handed you three colorful beads, five peach seeds, and five vials full of something.

"Thanks Teddie." You stuffed them all inside a bag you brought and caught up with Yosuke. Teddie following behind.

Castle Floor 1

"Garu!" Yosuke smashed his card and Jiraiya created gusts of wind from his palms. The fish-like Shadows had gotten dizzy and wobbled.

"Now's your chance, Sensei!" Teddie called out.

"Cleave!" You crushed your card and Izanami swept them all away with her naginata.

"Bear-rific job, Sensei!" Teddie praised. You three ran inside the castle, attacking any Shadow that gets close.

"Man, it feels great to be back on the job." Jiraiya said.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't have these powers back in the day." Yosuke said.

"Yeah. Well, it sure feels like it."

"Teddie, is she close?" You asked him.

"She went up a few floors but she's close. It's too dangerous to be on her own. She might get seriously hurt!" He whimpered.

"Don't demoralize the mission, Teddie. You said so yourself that the Shadows only attack us, right? So they probably won't even notice Chie."

"But we still have to hurry up! You saw what happened to me. I don't want that to happen to Chie!" Yosuke yelled.

"Shh! Yosuke! I know you're worried but we have to deal with what's in front of us first!" You pointed at a group of Shadows.

He sighed. "Alright. Let's go!"

Castle Floor 3

"Guys! I sense her behind this door!" Teddie pointed to a double door.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Yosuke was about to open the door but you held his arm.

"Yosuke, don't rush into things. We should at least prepare."

He shook off your hold and pointed at the door. "But Chie is just behind that door!"

"Yosuke." You said sternly, making him fall silent. "You used up all your soul to conjure those wind spells. Look at you. You can't even stand straight." It's true that he spammed his wind spells against those monsters. You would've helped, but you don't have a Persona that can use wind spells. His figure shook and took a step forward but he collapsed. Luckily you caught him in time.

"See? You can't even stand. Here..." You took out a Soul Drop and squeezed the bottle, letting the drops fall on Yosuke's head. Jiraiya complained about Yosuke having his head near your chest but Izanami jabbed him on the side. He seemed much more better than before. You helped him up and he stood on his own.

"Thanks. So can we go inside now please?" He pouted when he heard his Persona still complaining about him near your chest. You giggled and nodded. You pushed open the doors and saw Chie...

With another Chie.

"Oh no..." Yosuke muttered.

"Yukiko's so good looking... so fair-skinned... so feminine... She's the one all the guys drool over." Shadow Chie said. "When Yukiko looked at me with such jealousy... Man, did I get a charge out of that. Yukiko knows the score. She can't do anything if I'm not around... I'm better than her... Much, much better!"

Chie shook her head vigorously. "No! I have never thought that!"

"Wh-What should we do!?" Yosuke asked. You gripped your naginata tighter.

"Obviously stop her from saying-"

"YOU'RE NOT ME!"

"Aw, crap balls." 

Shadow Chie started laughing like a maniac. The aura around her grew stronger as it filled her with the suppressed emotions Chie has for Yukiko. The smoke died and a tall, feminine figure sat atop three faceless female students who stood on top of each other. It wore a ridiculous yellow hat and matching yellow bra, panties, and boots. It's long black hair cascaded on the floor with a few strands of it sharpened like a knife. She held a whip in one hand and a rope in the other.

"I am a shadow... The true self... What are you guys think you're doing? Trying to defend the 'real' me? Then you're gonna pay the price!" She used her whip to attack Chie but Jiraiya quickly grabbed it.

"Wh-What the-!?"

"Don't worry, boyish-looking girl. Jiraiya's here to-" He was cut short when Shadow Chie whipped him away. He was sent crashing at the chandelier and just hung there.

"I'm okay." He said with a thumbs up. You groaned in his idiocy and smashed your card.

"Zio!" Izanami thrust her palm as an arc of thunder hit Shadow Chie, making it dizzy.

"It's weak to Electricity. Do it again!" Teddie yelled from afar. You did so and another lightning blast hit it. It managed to regain itself and cackled.

"You think you can win 'those' puny skills? I'll show you what REAL skills are!" It cracked it's whip and lightning struck across the room. It didn't affect you, since Izanami is resistant to Electricity but you remembered Jiraiya still swinging on the chandelier.

"Izanami! Protect Jiraiya!" She flew in front of Jiraiya in the nick of time. She took the hit.

"You better start doing something, Yosuke! I'm not the one in pants here!" You yelled. Yosuke nodded and smashed his card.

"Garu!" Jiraiya summoned a blast of wind and it made Shadow Chie stumble but regained its composure.

"It's weak to Wind too! Hit it with a combo!" Teddie yelled.

"Don't even try!" Shadow Chie cracked its whip and a green force field protected it.

"It's raised it's defenses against Wind. Try using a different method!"

"Bash!" Yosuke smashed his card as Jiraiya flew towards Shadow Chie. Before he could, Shadow Chie kicked him in the... nads. Jiraiya screamed an octave higher than usual and fluttered down on the ground like paper.

"Get a hold of yourself, Jiraiya!" Yosuke yelled.

"Now I know how you feel when you fall on your bike..." Jiraiya groaned through the pain. Simultaneously, you and Izanami face-palmed. Shadow Chie taking that as an opening, used her sharp hair to stab Yosuke. Quickly, you thrust your palm as Izanami reverted back to her Arcana.

"Valkyrie!" A swordswoman riding a horse appeared behind you. She galloped in front of Yosuke and blocked the attack. Just when you returned Valkyrie, Shadow Chie cracked her whip as the temperature grew colder.

"Forneus!" A manta ray-like creature blocked the ice attack, however it spread across the room. Luckily, you didn't hear Teddie's ridiculous bear pun when the temperature dropped.

"Ugh, seriously? Quit blocking my attacks!" Before you could move, Shadow Chie raised her whip plus her hair with. "Just die!"

"NO!" Yosuke pushed you aside but he got hit by one of the hair knives. Yosuke managed to get under you so he took all the pain. You two skidded across the floor until Yosuke hit the wall. He groaned in pain and clutched his arm. It was bleeding.

"Are you okay?" His voice felt like it was forced.

"Yosuke... your arm!" You sat up and gently held his bad arm. He yelped. The cut wasn't bad. It only cut through the surface.

"It's not that bad! I can still fight!" He stood up but wobbled a bit.

"But Yosuke-"

"(Name), I'm fine. Let's just beat this thing and save Chie." You pursed your lips. But nodded. "Alright. But if it gets too rough, stay back." His lips formed that amusing smile and grabbed his nata.

"Guys! It's defences are low. Now's your chance!" Teddie yelled. You brought back Forneus and Izanami appeared in it's place.

"Alright. You're back. I was beginning to miss you." Jiraiya cooed.

"This isn't the time to be sentimental, Jiraiya." Izanami hissed.

"Guys, let's focus here." You yelled. "Yosuke, use Sukukaja on yourself. I'll use Izanami's attack spell on you. After that, fire a wind spell when I say so." He nodded and smashed his card.

"Sukukaja!" A green light shone as Yosuke became nimbler.

"Tarukaja!" You smashed your card as a yellow light shone. After that, you changed your Persona to a little green demon with a flaming spoon.

"Eh, get behind me." Ukobach said in a nosy voice.

"Are you done yet? I was afraid you'd chicken out!" Shadow Chie laughed as she raised her hair. You two dodged it as her hair strands was stuck on the floor.

"Now Yosuke!" You yelled. He fired a wind spell together with the fire spell you did with Ukobach. The two spells combined to make a fire tornado that struck Shadow Chie. She screamed as the flames consumed her. Making sure Chie wasn't in the fire, you ordered Ukobach to defend her. The girl that held Shadow Chie collapsed along with her as she evaporated into black mass, leaving the limp figure of the original Shadow Chie. Noticing the battle was over, you summoned back Izanami and helped Chie up.

"Are you alright?" You asked. 

She clutched her head and groaned. "Y-Yeah, I am..." She noticed her Shadow who was silent. "What's the matter...? Got nothing to say anymore?"

"Stop it, Chie. It's all right." Yosuke said.

"B-But..."

"Everyone has different masks, Chie. It's all right. We understand." You said.

"She's right... I went through the same thing." Yosuke said. "So I can understand... I mean... Everyone has a side like this..." Chie looked down and turned so she was facing her Shadow.

"I kinda get it now. You are me... A side of me that I couldn't forgive... That I tried to ignore...  But you still exist. You are a part of me..." Just like Shadow Yosuke, Shadow Chie nodded and smiled as she glowed from her counterpart's acceptance. She glowed blue and, in a glimpse, you swore you saw a womanized version of Bruce Lee. Her Persona turned into her Arcana as it disappeared. You and Yosuke went to her side and the embarrassment quickly flooded over Chie.

"Um... It's true that a part of me feels that way... But I wasn't lying about being friends with Yukiko!"

"Like we didn't know that already." Yosuke joked. Suddenly Chie dropped on the ground, probably due to fatigue. Luckily you caught her on time.

"You alright?" You asked. She nodded weakly and stood up straight again. "Right... You just got your Persona. We need to take you back home so you can rest."

"But... Yukiko...!"

"-Will be all right as long as the fog doesn't show in our world. You really need to rest." Yosuke said. "Come on. We're going back." You, Yosuke, and Teddie led her back to the studio where Teddie will procure a way home. Again.

"I... I'm feeling even worse than the last time I came in here..." Chie muttered. "My head feels like it's gonna split open... Are you guys okay?"

"Only you?" You questioned.

"That's right, you're not wearing the glasses." Yosuke said. Chie looked at you two closely and finally realized that you two wore glasses.

"Oh yeah... What's with those glasses? Did your eyesight go bad?"

"Man... you didn't notice until now? How panicked were you?" Yosuke winced. Not from his wound, but from her innocent stupidity.

"Come on, she was worried about her friend. Of course she didn't realize them until now." Jiraiya said.

"Please, you didn't realize they had glasses." Izanami said. Soon they went bickering again like a mother scolding her child. You two ignored them as Teddie whipped out a pair of glasses.

"Ta daa! I got a pair ready for Chie-chan, too!" Teddie said happily. "Here you go!" He gave her the glasses. It was rectangular and was colored yellow. She put them on and her eyes widened as she looked around.

"Whoa! What the-!? This is awesome! It's like the fog doesn't exist!"

"Why didn't you whip those out earlier if you had them?" Yosuke asked.

"I made them right now! You didn't tell me she was coming! It was all so sadden! I mean, sudden!" Teddie said.

"Huh... so that's the trick. I was wondering how you guys could see where you were going. Hey, is it alright if I keep these?" Chie asked.

"Fo' sho!" Yosuke winced. Not at Teddie, but at his arm. You gasped and rummaged through your bag to find the first-aid kit you packed before coming in here. You grabbed Yosuke's arm and moved his sleeve up. You opened the kit and grabbed a bottle of alcohol and cotton balls. You dabbed some on the cotton ball and gently dabbed it on his arm. He winced and recoiled his hand back.

"Don't move, Yosuke!" You scolded.

"It hurts!" Yosuke whined.

"Just suck it up!" You continued to dab the cotton ball on his arm as he winced every time. When the blood was cleaned, you grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around the wound. You noticed there was a scrape on his cheek, so you grabbed a bandage. It was a cute little cartoon bandage of the 'Phoenix Ranger Featherman R' series where Feather Owl is shown. You placed it on the scrape.

"Do you feel any better?" You asked. Yosuke touched his arm gently.

"It hurts a little, but I think I'll be all right."

"Aw man, I feel terrible about this. I'm sorry, Yosuke." Chie said.

"Heh. Don't worry about it. But promise us you won't go alone next time, okay?" She nodded. "If we don't work together, we won't be able to solve this case or save Yukiko-san... right?"

"I agree." You smiled.

"Me too. I promise as well." Chie said in determination.

"Let's save Yukiko!" You said as everyone nodded.

"Alright, so from tomorrow on, we'll try and come here as much as we can after school... And that includes days off." Yosuke looked at you. "Hey... Would you mind being our leader?"

"Huh?" You blinked.

"You were the first to get this power, and you're way better in a fight than either of us. I think it's best for all of us if you set the pace of the investigation, and we follow your lead. I'm cool playing second banana."

"Ehh..."

"I agree with him, (Name). You have a lot of power inside you. I can feel it." Izanami whispered to you.

"Alright. I'll do it."

"I knew you'd say that. I mean, I'm more the adviser type, y'know? An ideas man, not an executive."

"I'm with Yosuke. If you're the one calling the shots, I'd feel a lot more comfortable about this." Chie said.

"I'm with Yosuke. If you're the one calling the shots, my pillow will be a lot more comfortable at night." Teddie chirped in.

"Teddie, would you please stop talking? I'm really on edge right now..." Chie mumbled. Somehow you felt the same sensation when you teamed up with Yosuke. But this time, it felt way more stronger, almost as if you felt the hearts of both Yosuke and Chie.

"Okay. Let's get some rest for today so were ready from tomorrow on." Yosuke said. "And don't forget to check the weather forecast. It gets foggy after a lot of rain, so let's keep an eye out. Also let's make sure we gear up for next time." You three went back to Junes after Teddie conjured the TV stack and went home.

Evening

The three of you were eating dinner while watching the news. Izanami sat on the couch, watching you three intently as well as the TV.

"What an amazing object. It shows people talking while showing real-time images." Izanami said, fascinated about the TV.

"Hey. Mind if I ask something?" Dojima suddenly asked you. You blinked but shrugged. "You're not getting involved with any strange businesses, are you...?" You blinked yet again, only a little more surprised. "What happened at the station this afternoon... it's still bothering me. Is there... anything you're not telling me?"

Izanami overheard the conversation and instantly went behind Dojima. She sent signals, despite being invisible to your other relatives, all saying; 'Keep quiet!'

"Of course not." You said simply.

"... Is something bothering you? Believe me, I do feel bad that I've been too caught up with work for us to have time to talk..." Izanami slouched in relief.

"What's wrong? Are you fighting...?" Nanako interjected. You and Dojima nervously shook your heads.

"No... We're not having a fight." Dojima said.

"This isn't the police station..." Nanako said.

Dojima grumbled and then turned to you. "I agreed to look after you. So don't get yourself involved in anything that could get you into trouble." He said then he ate again. You three ate together while the weather forecaster pronounces that the weather on will be sunny.

Persona time

"I bet you're happy, huh?" Jiraiya said as Yosuke changed to his pajamas.

"What are you talking about?" Yosuke asked.

"Well, (Name) was your temporary nurse when we were in the castle. You were near her chest before the battle with that tomboy. And she fixed your arm, in which you were really near each other."

Yosuke scoffed as he went to the bathroom to toothbrush. "You can't get some serious wounds. And if it weren't for (Name), you wouldn't be here."

"My point still stands. You enjoy her being your nurse."

Yosuke spat the toothpaste foam as he wiped his mouth with a towel. He then noticed the yellow bandage you placed on his cheek. His fingers lingered there for a moment as he stared at his reflection.

'Yeah. I guess I kinda do like it.'

a little bit of a note here. For those who are curious about the talking Personas, I got the idea from Kisdota-The Freak Gamer on fanfiction.net. Go check out their fanfiction! It’s such a good read!

#start of a new fool #persona 4 #yosuke hanamura x reader #kanji tatsumi x reader #teddie x reader #kuma x reader

[paubari]

A SCALE OF FREEDOM [ONGOING]: CHAPTER 1: A REBELLION WORTH MILLIONS (PART 2 OF 2)

"I forgot to pack our belongings sister. I should be doing that now." Hasira says as she starts to rush towards our quarters. Nyskira runs up in front of her and raises both her arms as she blocks her path telling her "No need, sister. Once our plan has commenced we shall take over this manor and make it the base of our operations."

"Assuming it goes well that is," I say to her.

I have this terrible feeling in my gut, and it's not our poorly made dinner this time. It's as if it's trying to tell me something. My heart starts racing at the thought of Dragonborn storming the manor and killing the Master. I'm not going to lie, something flared up inside me. A spark of sorts that made me paranoid and frightful, but hopeful at the same time.

"You've little faith Ver--" Nyskira began saying before she was interrupted.

Our chattering was disturbed by a large groaning of metal and a thunderous booming voice. The very walls of the room were shaking as a Dragon came flying out of the now open metal door. It's tremendous weight and stature seemingly testing the very foundations of the place. Its scales shining like glass yet at the same time looked as pale as snow. The flapping of its wings rocked the heavy iron chandelier back and forth as it flew past the large balcony landing just below the grand staircase.

"Hush your murmuring, I am trying to concentrate" a low rumbling voice bellowed.

Our current master, a white dragon, is the current Master of Slaves. A fairly high rank in the Claw Congregation, the organization in charge of the multiple atrocities done to our people. It'd be obvious why he is such a high-value target if you were to stage a rebellion.

We all straightened up where we're standing, chills running down our spines as our joints seem to have been locked in place. Doarvah the Quiet as they call him. A Dragon of few words yet his actions weighed more than he plays on. Multiple rumors have been spreading about him. From experimenting on the slaves who he deems weak to torturing them just for fun.

"The only reason you four are still alive and inside my abode for that matter is your usefulness. I don't recall hand-picking you all because of your indecent chatter. Begone from my sight and finish your duties. You are disturbing my projects unless you are willing participants and choose to replace those within my chambers." Doarvah growled as white smoke began rising from his maw.

We all started heading towards the different directions and hallways of the manor when suddenly Doarvah started spreading his wings and reached for Caudicius. He tried ducking under the large claws but he wasn't quick enough. With a smug grin, Doarvah started lifting him up to his face. We stood there frozen in fear, not knowing what to do. Pure terror masked Caudicius's face as beads of sweat started forming around his forehead. The silence was eerie and cold, akin to the feeling when witnessing an accident or rather before it happens. The white Dragon started sniffing him seemingly trying to find something. With every breath, Caudicius's robes flapped with an intensity of a strong gust of wind hitting them. His mouth hanging agape for a few moments before he seemingly composed himself and swallowed hard before speaking:

"W-w-what is it that you r-require M-master?" Teeth chattering as he spoke.

I turned to Hasira who was beside me. She had a worried look on her face but she seemed to be looking somewhere else. I started tracing where her eyes were staring at and I was shocked at what I saw, Nyskira was gone. Seemingly to have disappeared I scanned the room desperately looking for her, silently hoping she doesn't do anything out of line.

"You smell different. As if you smell of odd perfumes. I did not take you for a man who uses oiled scents. Quite curious. I remember when I saw you by the auction block. You seemed different. Is it because you are human among Dragonborn or something else." Doarvah said in a deep growling tone.

"I-I don't t-think I f-follow Master?" Caudicius said stammering all the while.

"Do you take me for a fool, human? Do you think I wouldn't be able to see through your veil? No matter how many robes you wear, a wolf will always stand out amongst sheep." He said with a low growl waiting for a response.

My eyes started darting around the room frantically now. I tried my best not to be obvious as I kept looking for Nyskira. I stiffened as my gaze met her slender form bounding up the grand staircase. She was taking huge leaps yet she didn't seem to be making much noise. As she reached the top she mouthed something towards me, I tried my best to understand but all I got was "Act. Drop."

Doarvah continued "and what of your friends? Do they know your true intentions? Do you think they would approve of your plots? I smell the scent of--" He stops as his head straightens up and slowly turns sideways. Half facing Nyskira and half towards us with a sly grin forming on either side. "I knew a Dragonborn would try to act out of instinct if you threaten its friend. Incompetent species, predictable as always. A pox on you and your honor."

He drops Caudicius, landing on the floor with a large thud. Hasira is still in shock and doesn't move a muscle but I start lunging forward. I wasn't able to catch him but I was able to land close enough that I start dragging Caudicius' still shaking form away.

I look up in time to see Doarvah slowly turning to face Nyskira as she's frantically trying to cut the rope holding the chandelier in place. Doarvah slowly looks up and laughs in the most mocking and menacing tone I have ever heard then he speaks

"You think I would not know of your intentions? Do you think I would not prepare extra precautions for this specific week? You take me to have the same intelligence as your kind. How pitiful, I had those wires replaced with tougher material. So tough that no flimsy toothpick can cut it in half."

He raises his hand and slams it down onto Nyskira who narrowly escapes it ash she tumbles sideways. "Grrah! You would think I would not notice you prowling the grounds at night? I have many eyes within this town, far more than any member of the Claw Congregation or you pathetic rebellion." Doarovah bellows as he tries to catch her with his claws.

As I continue dragging Caudicius away I glanced towards Hasira who seemed to be standing still but has now lost the fear in her face. Her expression was replaced with a steely resolve and her eyes were filled with murderous intent. Her form seemed to glow as small sparks of blue light are now starting to coat her exposed scales. Yet her expression changes to worry when a loud shriek pierces the air.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!"

I turned around and saw Nyskira, her lower body frozen. She was frantically swinging her dagger around trying to slice at Doarvah. He merely chuckled then a large whump sound followed by a crashing sound like glass breaking. His massive paw swinging down full force at Nyskira's frail form, shattering her ice-encased legs. As he raised his paw underneath lay a now bleeding form of Nyskira unconscious and in grave danger. Hasira started rushing at him screaming

"You'll pay for what you did!"

she stretches out both of her arms out, blue arcane energy coalescing around it then shoots off toward Doarvah. Out of instinct, he dodges the majority of the strike but a little bit still grazes his neck. He whips around and starts snapping at Hasira with his large jaw. Caudicius coughs a few seconds then speaks

"We can't defeat him, we have to disable him and I know how," he says in between coughs. "The wire is sturdy, steel and iron tools or weapons cannot break it but I think Ice can. I think Doarovah thought he was the only one who can break it but he forgot, you have the blood of a white dragon as well."

"What are you trying to say?" I ask him confusedly.

"Breathe ice onto the wire then try to smash the ice. It will most likely weaken it." He answers me in a hoarse voice.

"What if it doesn't work? What if--" I start asking him.

"We have to try. Do it... for... them" he whispers and weakly points towards Hasira and Nysira's direction before passing out.

"You egotistical maniac! Die!" Hasira shouts as she shoots another round of blue arcane energy from her arms. This time finding its target and hitting Doarvah on the chest.

"Aaagh graah!" he recoils in pain for a moment then start swiping his claws at Hasira's direction.

I start hugging the wall avoiding getting between the middle of them as much as possible as I run towards the bottom steps of the grand staircase. I rush up the stairs and try my best to focus on doing what I have to do. Beyond my heavy breathing, I can hear wailing and moaning, cries for help, clanging of metal bars coming from the room where Doarvah came from. I averted my gaze not only in that direction but also in the direction of my friend as well. I knew that if I look at her I would hesitate and hesitation can kill all of us. As I reached for the wire that was holding the grand chandelier in place I can hear Hasira shouting. I quickly turn and I can see her clenching her fists crossing them on her chest.

"This is for all the Dragonborn you torture! The Dragonborn YOU maim and play with!" she shouts then focuses for a moment. Before one of Doaravah's claws can slam onto her, small yellow sparks start to flicker around her then a loud thunderous force sweeps out of her from all directions knocking Doarvah a few feet away.

"She's buying us some time but she won't last long. I have to do this, now!" I say to myself as I firmly grasp the wire then start concentrating on my breathing. As I exhale slowly a strong gust of white wind accompanied with small dots of frost spewed outward from my mouth. It enveloped the wire firmly encasing it in ice. From the outside I can see the wire weakening from the ice seemingly becoming brittle, now I need to figure out how to break it.

(end of part 2)

Go to my Wattpad page for the latest chapter!

#book #books #dungeons and dragons #fantasy #forgotten realms #figthing #magic #dragonborn

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part one (prologue) Word count: ±1750 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case that she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part one: Disaster hits the Sullivans, devastating loss ripping the seemingly perfect family apart. The oldest daughter, Abigail, fights to survive the demon attack, all while trying to save her possessed sister.  Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: Child In Time - Deep Purple  Author’s note: The maiden voyage of Supernatural: The Sullivan Series, and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank. @coffee-obsessed-writer, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @winchest09, thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: the Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Los Angeles, California      July 21st, 2001

     Screams. Horrific, tormenting screams. The kind that causes blood to run cold and hair on the back of the neck to stand up. Desperate cries for help, coming from a broken soul, barely a woman, but certainly not a child anymore, especially not after today. But it isn’t just the pained voice that echoes through the mansion in Brentwood, on the west side of the City of Angels. There are no angels here. On the contrary: the sounds mixing with the anguished voice, is one that comes from the deepest foundations of Hell.       “Abi! Where are you?!”       The call-out is gut-wrenching, and Abigail Sullivan presses her mouth closed firmly, biting on her bottom lip in order not to answer her little sister. She has her back against the French doors between the dining room and the kitchen, a line of salt on the marble floor connecting the frames.      The voice doesn’t sound like Zoë’s. She’s speaking in tongues, pure evil tainting her speech. The battle inside her own body is one she’s destined to lose, but man, she is putting up one hell of a fight. Demon possession is usually pretty straight forward. Black smoke, black eyes, and the host is all but a marionette. It’s rare that someone is able to break through the solid concrete walls that captivate them, but apparently Zoë is giving the bastard some serious competition. Abigail sniffles. That’s my girl.

     Trying to calm herself, the older sister leans her head back against the polished wood, listening to the raging demon. She has to fix this. She has to find a way to expel that thing. This family has lost enough.

     Determined, Abigail moves towards the kitchen cabinets, opening them and looking for anything that could be useful. She clears the storage area under the double sink and pulls up the lid over a secret compartment, exposing a 9mm, several knives, and jars that contain ingredients for basic spell work. Among the items is a flask of Holy water, which she shoves down the front pocket of her jeans. She doesn’t bother to take the handgun or the weapons; she would rather die than have to shoot her own flesh and blood. A bullet or a knife wouldn’t do a demon harm anyway, so instead, she takes a frying pan. It won’t kill anyone, but at least it will slow the son of a bitch down.

     “Oh, Abi…”      Abigail freezes. The trace of Zoë that was audible a minute ago is gone now. It’s the demon who is taunting her, its voice amused, almost singing.      “We used to play this game all the time when we were little, remember?” the dark voice muses.      “You are not my sister, you sick fucker!” she barks back, as she approaches the doors.      “Oh, c’mon. Don’t be cruel; humor me,” the demon tsks. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

     Abigail takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, listening to the sounds in the other room as she leans against the door again. Her heart is beating out of her chest, as if it seems to realize it might stop moments from now. The thing is waiting, and it will rip her apart once it gets the chance. She has to get to the office; it’s her only chance for survival. Dad’s journal and address book might be a way of sending out an S.O.S. signal. There’s a devil’s trap under the circular carpet at the entrance too. If she can capture the demon, they might live another day. Both her and Zo.      With her weapon in her left hand and Holy water in her right, the older Sullivan sister swallows thickly, fearing for her life. The brave young woman takes another second to collect herself. and prepare for what is on the other side. Senses heightened, she waits for the footsteps to pass.      3… 2… 1…

     With a fierce kick, Abigail slams the French door into the intruder’s face, giving herself a small window to make a break for the rotating stairway. With panicked breath, she conquers three risers with each stride, pulling herself up by the guard rail. She almost makes it to the second floor, before a force that defies physics pulls her from her feet and smashes her into the wall. Plaster crumbles on top of her when she hits the ground halfway down the staircase, a jolt of pain cutting through her hip when she lands on the edge of one of the steps.

     Biting down a cry, she pulls herself together while retrieving the Holy water from her pocket, frantically screwing off the cap. Just in time, because the demon that has nested in her little sister’s body, towers over her, a chilling laugh that is anything but human erupting from Zoë’s throat. Blood has smudged her summer dress, dark red sprayed across her chest and neck. The expression distorts the twenty-one year old’s gentle features beyond recognition and her eyes fade to black.      “Hello, sis,” the demon coos.      Abigail’s lip twitches angrily, opposite of the pain in her teary eyes. “Get out of her, you fucking bastard!” 

     She throws the contents of the silver flask into the demon’s face, exposed skin sizzling when it comes in contact with the fluid. It staggers back, hands going for its face as it screeches in agony. Abigail knows this might be the only opportunity she will get and doesn’t waste a second. As fast as her feet can carry her, she gets up, ignoring the ache in her side, and hastens up the stairs.        This time she does make it to the corridor, dashing towards the office at the far end. She is flanked by walls painted in crimson handprints, puddles of blood staining the polished wooden floors. As she passes the master bedroom, she doesn’t glance inside, not wanting to carve even deeper scars into her heart, but the image of the massacre pushes its way to the foreground anyway. She can’t afford to slow down, though, because she can feel the temperature of the warm Californian home drop at least twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. 

     With her fingers still clamped around the handle of the frying pan, she swings on pure gut, her hunter instincts - which she buried not so long ago - kicking in. The flat surface of the pan hits her demon-infested sister square across the jaw, breaking the skin, and for a moment Abigail feels guilty for hurting her sibling. Drastic measures; it’s all about survival now.      Not daring to look over her shoulder, Abigail rushes into her father’s office, able to tell by the sound of firm footsteps that she’s mere inches from getting tackled. The demon is right on her tail, but when the dark entity is about to cross the room, it runs into an invisible barrier. Confused and frustrated, the creature tries again, without result. Then it scoffs, the mimic so different from Zoë’s.      “Let me guess.” The demon tilts its head, staring down the other Sullivan sister. “There’s a trap underneath this ugly rug, isn’t there?”       “Good luck getting out of that one,” Abigail returns, a trace of victory pulling at the corner of her mouth.       “Oh, I don’t need to,” the demon chuckles, as it begins to stroll along the edge of the cage. “Seems like the only way out is through this door behind me.”      Trying to mask the shake in her limbs from anxiety, Abigail sits down in her dad’s leather office chair, rolling closer to the desk. “We’re on the second floor. I’ve done bigger drops.”      “I bet you did. You’re quite the hunter, aren’t ya? You’ve sent many of my kind back to the basement.” Bitter, the demon narrows its eyes, glaring at her.       “I’m one of the best,” Abigail counters, before she pulls out a drawer and takes out a black leather journal.      “Are you?” the evil creature questions. “Are you really going to leave poor little Zo all alone?”

     The older Sullivan sister tries to ignore the words, but she feels the sharp sting anyway. Focusing on the task at hand, she leafs through the notes in search of a number.      “She’s awake in here, y’know?”      Abigail stops.      “She’s crying hysterically, begging you not to abandon her,” the demon elaborates, clearly enjoying the sight of the hunter crumbling. “Begging me not to rip you to shreds and decorate the chandeliers with your intestines.”      “Shut the fuck up,” Zoë’s sister warns, snapping her fiery eyes at the creature.      But the demon doesn’t yield. It has both ladies right where it wants them.       “Let’s face facts here: you’re as trapped as I am. You’re not gonna leave your only family. And you don’t have what it takes to exorcise me. Not without killing her.”      “Maybe I don’t,” Abigail agrees, picking up the phone on the desk. “But I can call the cavalry.”

     Her finger has stopped at two initials, scribbled down on one of the first pages by her Dad. He never wrote down hunters’ names, not wanting to expose them, should the book fall into the wrong hands. Several numbers of old burner phones are crossed out, but the last one isn’t. It’s the number Abigail dials. Without giving the demon the satisfaction of witnessing her despair, she prays for the call to go through. The phone rings three times, four times, causing her to swallow apprehensively. Goddamnit, pick up the phone.      “Hello?”      A sigh of relief slips from her lips. “It’s Abi. I need you to drop everything and get to L.A. as fast as possible.”      “What’s going on?”      “It’s my sister, Zo, she’s–”

     She glances over the desk, watching the person in question staring back. For a second, Zoë seems to be fine: smiling eyes, bright and full of life. Like nothing happened, like their lives are exactly the way they were an hour ago: carefree, peaceful, optimistic. No tears on their faces, no blood on their hands. But then her Zoë’s mouth pulls into a smirk, a smirk that isn’t hers. Her baby sister laughs then, the sound of several dark voices erupting from her throat. Her brown eyes flick to black and little Zo is gone. Goosebumps run up Abigail’s arm and settles in the back of her neck, tears threatening to come down her cheeks.      Abigail tries to compose herself, making sure the words will come out steady when she speaks again. But watching the definition of evil taking full advantage of the person who occupies such a huge space in her heart, is crippling. Acknowledging her family will never be the same again causes her voice to waver.      “She’s possessed, John.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter two here!

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Supernatural OFC #Supernatural OFC series #SPN OFC #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #Dean Winchester fanfic #Sam Winchester fanfic #Dean fanfiction #Sam fanfiction #Dean fanfic #Sam fanfic #SPN #Supernatural #SPN fanfic #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural angst #Dean angst #Sam angst #TSS #TSS 1x01 Changes #Kate Huntington