How many times have you nearly killed yourself that morning? Too many to count, you silently cursed your wings as they flapped unevenly, making you look like a drunk trying to walk up stairs.
It was early in the morning as you round the city for the fifth time, watching striker who looked vary unhappy with us punishment.
Funnily enough it wasn't labor or cleaning out the flooded basement. It involved bombproof and a butt ton of pink ribbons.
The poor thing chuffed angerily, nipping at the ribbons that decorated it's black ribs, the colors clashed not meshing together well.
Your wings were sore, being forced to continuously make rounds around imp city. Smog filled you lungs as you breathed in the dirty smoggy air, your vision blurred before becoming clear.
You sliently wished the city wasn't smoggy. Looking down you watched as crimson forced striker to put on bright pink frilly ribbons on bombproof. His punishment seemed more tangible, and then again, His pride was deflated by your father's punishment.
Looking back up you forced yourself to continue flying.
Striker groaned, his poor horse, reduced to a pink frilly stallion. How embarrassing, how humiliating.
It was just barely morning when he had gotten him and you up for your punishment, thankfully his punishment wasn't out in the open like yours was.
His was behind an old run down building that had supplies of frilly clothing and pink ribbons to spare.
It was 7 in the morning and yous were up doing your punishments.
"Alright, that's enough just relax now!"
Crimson called up to you, watching as you plummeted to the ground, landing on a throny bush.
Everything ached more, and you were sure that you were coming out of this punishments with bruises.
'I'm not cruel'
The vary words your father had said rang clearly in your head. What a joke it was, if anything he was worser than cruel.
Groaning as you stood up your back cracked, not in a bad way either. It had been stiff all morning, being forced to fly rounds around imp city.
"Oh, it wasn't that bad."
He spoke dismissively looking down at his watch he hummed.
"I reckon it's time to get home before your mother starts breakfast. Wouldn't want her nagging me about why we were late."
Crimson spoke, fixing his tie. Striker glared into crimson's back, grumbling under his breath as he tore the frilly pink ribbons off of bombproof who whinnyed in response. Stamping his hoof on the ground.
"Might as well toss our freedom and opinions out the window when your with crimson."
Muttered a salty striker, throwing his arm around you. Bombproof followed behind, chuffing lightly.
Chewing your bottom lip you both shimmed into the mansion, sweat coating your skin in a thick layer, soaking your shirt.
You'd definitely need a shower and a change of new clothes.
Word count 483
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(daddy's little girl) (Permanently Discontinued)
Fanfiction"daddy, why isn't mum movin'?" "mum... oh, daddy what did you do?" ---------------------------------- you have always been a daddy's girl, hiding away from the monsters your father protected you from. but what happens when the good guy facade fades...
