#I’m covered in scars and the only thing I regret is not doing worse cause maybe then I could’ve done something better you know

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

On the Other Hand...

Sleep rarely came naturally to Hriob.  There was always something else that needed his attention or warranted doing.  For the most part, his connection to the mountain in which he resided allowed him to stay awake far longer than an ordinary human.

But on occasion, sleep took him unbidden, and he’d find himself dreaming.

This was, after all, a dream, right?  The Halls remained the same, the layout as familiar to him as ever, but there was something different about the energy in the air that he couldn’t quite place.  Cold, unfamiliar, disconnected.

Yes, that was the best way to describe it.  He focused his energy outward, searching for the presence of others within the Halls.  A presence identical to his own was likely in the study - precision was slightly more difficult this far away from the room though.  But something much closer to Hriob caught his attention as well.

A pale, deathly white aura, only a few rooms away.  Claudia, was his first thought - it was weak enough that he doubted it would be her other incarnations.

But still, he was curious, and Hriob found himself walking toward the room.

Curiosity isn’t the best trait to have in a place like this.

He passed through the door as if a ghost, quickly regretting his decision to investigate.

The room itself was heavily warded - layers upon layers of seals and wards to contain what was held within.  The air so thick with such protections that even Hriob found it difficult to move, even though he was clearly not the intended target.

No, this level of security was reserved solely for the pale figure he could just barely make out in the dim magical light.  The figure moved, raising her head, though even the slight movement seemed to cause a ripple effect in the oppressive warding around her.

Amelia - or at least some version of her, but Hriob had never seen her in such a state.  Never even imagined her like this.  Half of her face - half her body - covered in extensive burn scars.  Her wings had clearly been cut off at some point.  Her single working eye fixated on Hriob, glaring at him with pure hatred.

And for once, he had nothing to say to her.  Even after hearing nothing from her for years, seeing another version of her in such a state…  And, to make things worse, knowing that it was likely some version of him that had done this to her.

Silence.  A tension that weighed down on Hriob more than the presence of the wards and seals binding the woman in front of him.  He didn’t know what to say.  What could he say that could possibly quell the burning rage directed at him?

The Jumper spoke first, her voice hoarse, quiet - yet still dripping with venom.  “What do you want, shaman?”

“Nothing, I-”  He turned his gaze away from her, a hand coming from beneath his cloak to brush the hair out of his face.  Was it strange to feel nervous?  He had come to see Amelia as a friend in the past, but this version of her…  Trapped though she was, this Jumper still felt like a threat.

A predator sizing up her next meal.

The thought chilled him to the core.  It’d been a long time since he’d felt that sort of deep, instinctual fear.  He was, briefly, thankful that she had no way to actually strike.  … He hoped.

Quite suddenly, the numerous redundancies in the magic that contained her made a lot more sense than they had before.  “I had… hoped you were someone else.”

“Didn’t think you could hate someone more than me,” she said.

Hriob shook his head, opening his mouth to explain himself, but he was cut off before he could make a sound.

“But you’re not him, I suppose.  Just a wanderer, slipped into the wrong world.”  The corner of her mouth twisted into a smirk.  “Not quite smart enough to know not to mess with other timelines.”

“I have no intention of interfering here.”

“Then why are you here, shaman?”

“I… don’t know,” Hriob admitted.  “Perhaps something drew me here for a reason.  Something I’m meant to see?”

She scoffed, but said nothing more.  Leaving him to his thoughts.

The other presence in the halls was moving.  Coming closer.  Hriob turned to look at the door behind him.  Did he want to meet this other self?  Did he want to know what he had become?  What he could have been?

What he often feared he was, deep down inside?

It was a moment of paralysis - torn between curiosity and dread.

What to do when sleep led him to questions he feared the answer to?

The figure stood in the doorway.  Tall, imposing.  He wore no wraps like Hriob did, though his clothing otherwise appeared nearly identical.  The hood of his cloak up over his head - his face and the mask he wore over it covered in shadow.  A pause, presumably taking in the presence of the first Hriob.

He strode forward with purpose, brushing past - passing through - Hriob as he approached his prisoner.  Like an icy wind, reminding Hriob that he wasn’t truly there.  He could wake up.  Could leave at any moment.

Could he leave, after seeing this?

Hriob wasn’t sure what to think of this other person.  This other him.

It was always a strange, unsettling experience to encounter himself.  Always something that struck him as slightly off with the Hriobs of other timelines.  It never really got any easier to wrap his mind around it.  He still wasn’t fully sure how to even address them.

He’d have to figure out some way of distinguishing them in the near future.

But still.  He had questions, far too many questions.

“What is this?”  His tone was perhaps more… aggressive - more judgemental - than he had intended.  But it still pained him to see his friend not his friend.  This version of the Jumper harbored so much more hatred to even consider calling her a friend in such a condition.  “Why have you done this to her?”

The newcomer - the other Hriob - turned his head, regarding Hriob silently.  It was hard to tell what he was thinking beneath his mask.  Why wear the mask here, in the halls of his own home?  When he spoke, his voice was slightly muffled.  His words carefully chosen.  Deliberate.  “I need it alive.  To study.” 

“You could easily study her without taking such... extreme measures.”

“Perhaps.  It’s safest.”  He pulled what seemed to be a kind of crystal from his pocket, rolling it across the ground.  It passed the barriers easily.

The Jumper fell upon it quickly.  Catching it, and drawing the small, precious magical energy it held into herself.  The action struck Hriob as… starved, desperate.

He felt pity.

“Safe?  Look what you’ve done to her.  What you’ve reduced her to.”

“And?”

“You can’t do this.”

The masked one straightened, his head tilting slightly in Hriob’s direction.  “You disapprove.  After everything this monster has done, the people it’s killed, you object to containing it?”

“Yes!”  Hriob’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms.  “Can’t you see what you’re doing is wrong?  She has just as much of a right to freedom as anyone else.”

“It had to be stopped.  Contained.  So I did.”  A pause, then a long, drawn out, sigh.  “Infinite timelines.  Infinite worlds.  Yet I find you’re the most… challenging version of myself I’ve had the misfortune of running into.”

“You’ve figured that out quickly.”

“It would be foolish to not keep a very close eye on this room.  I heard what it said to you.”

“So you’re not only imprisoning her, you’re spying on her every move as well.”

“It can’t be allowed to escape again.  Precautions have to be taken.”

“There’s a difference between taking precautions and… whatever this is.”  Hriob gestured to the wards containing the Jumper.  “It’s excessive.”

“It’s necessary,” the masked one stressed.

“You’re starving her.  Isolating her.  You can’t do that to a person.”

“It’s not a person.  It’s a parasite.”

Hriob shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  “I can’t believe this, what could have possibly happened to make me act like this?”

“I shouldn’t need to explain myself.  You’re the one that came here and started arguing that my methods are somehow flawed.  If any explanations are owed, I believe you should be the one explaining yourself.”

“I thought my stance on the ethics of this scenario was pretty clear.”

“Ethics?”  The masked one scoffed.  “This isn’t about ethics.  This is about keeping a monster under control before it kills again.”

“She’s not - She’s a person.  She has thoughts, feelings, a soul.”

“Then it should have considered what would happen when it killed mutti.”  He turned abruptly to leave, the door closing behind him.  Leaving only his final words to echo in Hriob’s mind.  Leaving him alone once again in the room with only the imprisoned Jumper for company.

Before he could move again, before he even contemplate chasing after his doppleganger, before he could even turn to interrogate the 'other' Amelia for that last bit of intel his own 'other' had let slip, he woke up: suddenly sitting up, breathing heavily with a thin sheen of cold sweat, a silent scream of frustration, disbelief and building terror all but completely locked behind the rictus of his grit teeth.

He blinked, groaning as the rush of pain to his head from the visions' passing grew stronger, glancing down at his notes on Claudia's treatment options...

...whether or not that 'dream' was supposed to be a warning or not, he knew he was already running out of time.

[srvphm]

it’s 3am and I’m thinking about how I have thousands of scars that my body will bear for the remaining of my life and I got almost all of them within 5 years of my life

[yellowcabdriver]

assuage

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warning: none

A/N: here’s some Javier fluff to soothe the wounds of “Anemone”, hope you’ll like it 😚

Summary: Javier is in love.

Javier Peña is not the type to fall in love. Not anymore.

Or so he thought.

It was his unspoken rule—never catch feelings. Javier has been burnt many times, scarred and at this point genuinely frightened of being vulnerable. To be completely rational, he was in no place of being able to afford having such a gaping weakness that could easily be used against him by Escobar's people or, even worse, the embassy.

And it's not like Javier didn’t care. He did and deeply so; he was a passionate man after all. But that was more of a common courtesy for him, his way of being polite. Caring is okay, never catching feelings, though—that was his rule.

However, it seems that every rule has its own exception. And in Javier's case, his exception was resting naked on a pillow next to him, sighing quietly in her sleep.

Javier ruffled his hair and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. Taking a drag, he still couldn't stop staring at your form sleeping soundly with your back turned to him. Something in him stung ever so gently but nevertheless painfully: you always turned away from him in your sleep. Or you would create some sort of barrier between you two, with a pillow or a blanket. Whether you did that unconsciously or not, Javier preferred not to dwell on that for too long because for some reason that made him frustratingly sad and he would just have to sit there and deal with this uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. He never understood why it affected him that much, especially when he usually left rather astonishingly soon after you fell asleep. Maybe that was one of the reasons he never stayed, he thought. Maybe you don’t want him to stay.

The cigarette didn’t bring the usual comfort, only made his throat itchy and mouth all dry and sandpapery. In disappointment, Javier put away the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the nightstand and turned back to you.

Suddenly, you moaned and moved from your side to your back, face all scrunched as if in pain. You opened your eyes rubbing a shoulder that went all stiff because you were lying down in a position that didn’t seem that unpleasant when you drifted off to sleep. The soft movement on your left caused you to sit up with a quiet shriek.

“Javier!” You were looking at him with big surprised eyes and Javier felt the warmth spreading in his chest taking in your disheveled state. Your hair was a mess, you had pillow marks on the right side of your face, and smudged makeup just added to the whole look. He couldn’t help but touch your pillow-marked cheek with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry I scared you, hermosa, couldn’t sleep.”

You unconsciously leaned into his touch and nodded.

“That’s okay, I was just not… um… expecting to see you here at…” You glanced at a clock. “4 am? Wow, usually you’re gone like ten minutes after we finished having sex”, you added with a laughter. Javier’s heart sank at your words as he smiled sadly in response. Did he overstay his welcome?

“I was…” I didn’t want to leave. “I was too tired to go to my place.”

“Javi, that’s okay, you can stay, it’s not like I’m kicking you out or something,” you laughed again reaching out to touch his face but as Javier made an instinctive subtle movement to lean into your hand, you just brushed the tips of your fingers over his jaw and retracted your arm away.

You could’ve slapped him instead, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Go back to sleep then. We have a long day tomorrow, you know,” you offered him a gentle smile lying down and once again you turned away from him, hugging a corner of a blanket as you usually do. Javier wanted to scream in frustration. The lack of touch after you two spent half a night bodies intertwined, kissing and covering each other in lovebites was excruciating, painful even. And now he decided that he had enough.

He settled down next to you with a huff snaking his tan arm over your waist. His hand instantly found yours, clutching the blanket to your chest. As he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into the back of your neck he heard you laugh quietly.

“Javi, whatcha doing?” You inquired, amusement apparent in your voice.

“What do you think I’m doing, cariño? I’m cuddling you,” he buried his nose deeper in your hair. You giggled and shrugged from his tickling breath.

“I can feel that. I guess I’m asking what’s gotten into you? First you stayed the night, now you’re cuddling with me. This is so… unyou.” You turned around a little to look back at Javier. “Are you dying?”

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I hope not.”

But I’d be a lucky man to die in your arms, he thought. 

What has gotten into him, indeed?

“Why…” Don’t ask that, don’t ask that, don’t ask that. “Why do you always turn away?”

“Huh?”

Javier sighed instantly regretting this moment of bleeding vulnerability. But he decided to proceed because, well, it was you he was vulnerable about. His hand was still covering yours as he gently stroked it with his callous thumb.

“You are distancing yourself from me, hermosa. After we have sex… you turn away from me-“ He felt you stiffen under his touch. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, Javi, of course not,” you finally released the corner of the blanket and held onto his hand instead. “I’m- you are- God, I can’t believe I’m about to say that.”

“Say what?”

You inhaled and said words that unexpectedly for both of you came out as a whisper.

“I heard you don’t like clingy women.”

“What?”

Frowning, Javier got up on one elbow and turned you to look at him. You smiled awkwardly avoiding looking him directly in the eyes.

“I heard that you don’t like when women are clingy. So I am… giving you space.”

The way you said that, the way you bit your lower lip and cringed at your own words made Javier feel as if someone punched him right in the guts.

He remembered a dumb drunken conversation he had with Murphy one night at the local bar. It was soon after you two started this whole “friends with benefits” thing going. As an assistant, you weren’t usually invited to these sort of afterwork shenanigans, they were mostly reserved for agents. But that time Javier insisted on picking you up after work and bringing you along as he, Murphy and a couple of other agents were sitting at the bar and drinking their problems away. That’s when Javier mentioned that stupid thing about how he liked to have his space and he didn’t like being clung onto after the deed is done. As always, you, being your wonderful considerate and thoughtful self, took into account this little careless remark of his and gave him space which he never wanted in the first place… not from you, at least.

Javier pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a quiet “fuck” under his breath. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, Javier, I wouldn’t have brought this up, I mean you asked, I answered. Let’s not dwell on this,” you said trying to seem indifferent. You didn’t even have time to react when Javier jolted up and pulled you up with him, cupping your face with his large palms. You had never seen him like this before, desperate and… hurt?

“Hermosa… mi alma… mi corazon… mi amor…” Each word was followed by a soft kiss on your face. “I am sorry, I didn’t… I never meant that. I want your touch, I crave it every night, and it kills me when I have to leave. I want you, I want to stay with you, and I- I want us to be something more if… if you want this, too.”

His monologue left you speechless. You never expected to be awarded with such an unrefined tenderness from Javier, at least, you never thought you’d be on the receiving end. After a brief second of staring into his almost dejected with anticipation eyes, you decided to let go of the constraints you put yourself in and launched yourself onto Javier pulling you both to plump back on the bed. This caused Javier to let out a laugh under you, you had never seen him laughing like that before, beaming with carefree boyish charm.

“I am actually very clingy, Javier, you better not regret letting me go on my merry way,” you warned him as you looked down at him and started covering his face in kisses.

Javier felt the soul-crushing wave of unspeakable tenderness when he felt your unfettered touch that he craved for so long. In a sudden swift motion Javier flipped you both over and now it was him hovering over you, brown eyes gleaming like you had never imagined them to.

“I would never, hermosa, but I’m pretty sure I am the clingy one.”

Javier Peña was not the type to fall in love. But maybe he is now.

[bokettochild]

Day 5: I've Got Red In My Ledger

Whumptober Day 5: Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

So, I ended up using all three options, and 'm honestly not sure if this counts as Warriors Whump, Four Whump or both.

I will excuse Legend's presence as being because I just wrote a Four and Legend one-shot and was still in Split Heroes mode.

Hope you read, enjoy, and don't hate me for what I've done, because I don't regret it :)

Warriors keeps staring at them.

The captain’s piercing royal blue eyes have been boring a hole into their back for ages and the ridiculous part of them worries that if they don’t keep moving that stare will bore a hole right through them. Thanks Red.

What? It’s a valid concern!

Red, when has having someone stare a hole through you ever been a valid concern?

Wild’s guardians.

Alright, but Wars isn’t a guardian, he’s-

He helped to build them. Red murmurs softly. Plus, he’s the Captain, I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to do something crazy after spending so much time jumping across worlds and learning stuff from the people there.

Red, we all jump through portals and learn things from across time. I think we’ll be okay.

“Four?” Legend’s voice is the one that breaks through to him as the vet stops in front of him, two bowls in hand and one offered to them as the vet cocks a brow. “Y’all okay?”

They smile at the vet, despite the itch of someone’s eyes fixed on them, and take the offered food. “I’m good, just thinking is all.”

“About what?” Legend presses, sitting next to them with curious cock of his brows as he begins to eat, violet eyes staring them down, piercing, but not as pointedly so as Warriors’ gaze. Legend’s eyes are gentle for once, and the vet seems to relax slightly as he eats, seated at their side and calmer than he’s been in days.

Four wishes they could feel the same.

They don’t regret sharing their secret with the vet (even if it wasn’t on purpose) and it’s nice to have someone to feel safe with, but no matter how warmly Legend might smile at them, a secretive wink or knowing smirk being shot their way, they’re still on edge.

“Nothing much, just...thoughts, you know?”

“No.” Legend deadpans.

They chuckle nervously. “Thinking about our different worlds and how we learn so much by hopping across them, you know? Like, Wild learning the recipes from your time or Wind getting to learn to ride horseback in Twilight’s world.” Th vet nods wordlessly, sucking on his spoon as they turn their attention to the meal Wild has so lovingly prepared.

Warriors still hasn’t looked away.

He’s been doing this for days, and usually, Four wouldn’t be worried, but it hadn’t started until after Shadow had helped them trip up an enemy in battle, and though the action probably saved the captain’s life, Wars hasn’t stopped watching them and it’s beginning to remind them of that time that Ezlo and them had been cornered by a cat in Pita’s Bakery. They still have the scar from that incident, and it’s something they guard the secret behind fiercely, if only out of shame of their own weakness and foolishness in that particular situation. Ezlo had warned them not to try darting away, to stay hidden in the sacks until the cat had been gone, but they’d rushed forwards and barely survived being made mincemeat.

Ezlo had needed stitches.

They had needed a minish healer and a bath in red potion. And even if they cover the worst of the scars beneath their tunic, the ragged tip of their left ear is a reminder. It’s why they chose to wear their earring, to remember to listen when the minish or the little voice in their head -or voices now- tell them to be careful. That voice, all four of them, is screaming at them to shield themselves.

And really, they should have listened.

Legend is on his feet in a moment, sword out to catch the second blow that falls their way as their ambusher grunts out an irritated oink.

“Ambush!” Wind shouts as the others pull themselves to their feet and grab hold of their weapons. They’d left their sword beside their seat, and from their place lying on the ground they can’t reach, but Shadow, Hylia bless him, sneakily pushes it close enough that they can wrap their fingers around the hilt and jump in to join the battle with their brothers.

It’s not a large group of monsters, and it doesn’t take much work between nine heroes and a sneaky shadow to fell them all, and they’re just turning to offer Wind a high five as the kid kicks the final lizalfoes off his sword when the cold of a blade presses against their throat.

“Warriors, what the bloody heck!” Legend shouts, jumping back up from where he’d been knelt to help Sky begin relighting their ruined campfire.

“Drop your sword.” The captain’s voice grates out behind them, cold and commanding in a way that sends shivers down their spine.

What’s going on?

The captain’s gone bonkers is what! Green, what’s the plan?

There’s only silence from their leader as the other deviants wait impatiently for an answer.

Green, we need a plan, War is-

Their sword clatters to the earth as the other colors begin to swear and panic, but Green has forced their hand, literally, and the stare they send their weapon is both resigned and horrified, one eye flickering various colors as the other remains solidly green.

Across camp, Legend’s own eyes are bugging out of his head, panic clear in his gaze as the vet’s hand closes on his sword hilt.

“Stay your hand, Legend.” Warriors rumbles, firm but not cruel. “No need for weapons-”

“Says the one holding a sword to Four’s throat!”

The captain doesn’t even shift, and their mind spins as they try and decipher what it is that the other man is doing or thinking, Red and Blue still screaming inside their mind as Vio murmurs various schemes about what they can do while Green sits in stony silence.

What were you thinking!

Green! We- what if- Red is nearly sobbing. Green, please! What are you doing?

Calm down. Of Green had his own body he’d be shooting them a rueful but reassuring look, and they can all feel it. This is a mistake or misunderstanding. If we listen and don’t make it worse, it can be cleared up faster.

Brilliant, might want to fill the vet and Old Man in on your plan though, and maybe Sky too, guys about to blow up.

They shoot a wary glance towards the Chosen Hero, careful not to move their head lest they press against the blade at their throat. Sky’s eyes are wide, but he’s still as a board and already falling into his ‘king stance’ as Legend calls it, shoulders back and jaw set with a grace and power behind his gaze that makes them shiver even more than the cool steel at their neck.

Or wait, that metal isn’t all cold, there's a bit of warm sticky stuff brushing their jaw and they nearly shiver again as they realize that Wars hadn’t even cleaned the monster blood off of his blade before trapping them.

“The smithy’s been lying to us.” Warriors grates out, cold and harsh and angry as the blade presses closer to their throat. They have to inch back a bit to avoid being cut, only to find themselves stumbling against the captain’s chest. “He may be a hero chosen by the goddesses, but he’s chosen his own path.”

“What do you mean?” Time’s voice is emotionless, stance unreadable and face carefully blank and it’s unsettling in the extreme, making the other young heroes draw back with wary looks as they glance from one to another of the adults, only Legend standing firm and furious as he glares across at the captain.

“Four’s working with the shadow.” The captain spits out, blade again pressing close to their neck. “I’ve been watching him, he’s either learned it's powers or the beast is here itself, but I know what I saw, he’s got a shadow helping him.”

The vet twitches. “Duh. Have you never read the Legend of the Four Sword?”

There are a few confused sounds from the others, but Four can’t bother to figure out what the others are all saying and doing as the steel presses sharp against his throat, leaving him pressed against Warriors’ armor-clad chest with no way to escape as something warm bubbles against the blade and crimson leaks down from the line the blade presses against him.

“Let him go!” Legend shrieks, hands already on his own blade as he darts across the camp, but Warriors, only draws Four closer, voice unbearable gentle and pained as he addresses Legend. “Vet, you’re not yourself. He’s messed with your mind, can’t you see?  It’s why you two have been so close all of a sudden, he’s put a dark spell n you, don’t give into it.”

“I’ll do what I bloody well want!” Legend screams in return, chest heaving as the tempered sword comes unsheathed, tip inches from Warriors’ face as Legend’s body begins to tremble. “Let him go, Captain.” The title is spat out like a curse, and Four can nearly feel Warriors’ shoulders sag as the man winces, but Legend doesn’t lower his blade even as Wars gently urges him to calm.

The others have started moving closer too, doubt on a few faces that makes their heart sink in their chest. Sky’s gaze is firm though as the Chosen Hero settles a hand on Legend’s shoulder. “Let him go, wars. If there’s a problem that needs addressing, we’ll address it like civil adults.” The words make hope flutter in their chest, but Warriors is only pressing closer, his blade digging in and making them whimper as blood dribbles into the collar of their tunic.

“Not a chance, Sky, he’ll get away, shadows are sneaky like that! They-” The captain is cut off suddenly, breath catching as the man wheezes behind them, his hand on the sword at their throat loosening its grip and giving them room enough to breathe again.

Legend takes the opening, whatever it is that caused it, to dart forwards, dropping his own sword and pulling at the captain’s sword arm hard enough that Sky can scoop them up into his strong arms and duck away, holding them close to his chest and giving them a full view of the shadowy hands that have wrapped around Warriors’ throat.

“I’d watch who you messed with if I were you, Captain.” Shadow hisses in the man’s ear before releasing him, zipping over to where they lay in Sky’s arms, startling both the Skyloftain and the vet, who’s already reaching for his weapon again as the shade stops to float over them. “Four, oh gosh Rainbow, are you okay?”

Good old Shadow.

Vi, we almost died, now’s not the time.

“All good.” They wheeze with a shaky smile, eyes darting up to Sky’s wary ones and then down to Legend’s steely indigo ones. Neither hero has made a move though, and for that Four is grateful.

A few paces away, Warriors is rubbing at his throat and staring in shock and horror at the shade that hovers over the trio of heroes who crossed him. They wince, this is not going to be easy.

“You’re bleeding.” Shadow hisses, nearly growls as his fangs glint in the glow of faded embers. “He- Oh Lolia no, this ain’t going down like this, not on my watch!”

Well Shadow’s managed to accidentally calm Legend at least, as the vet loosens slightly at the name of the Lolian Goddesses name, even if Sky still hold them tight like he thinks he’s going to have to run.

The shade looks up, away from them for a moment and salutes Sky with a knowing nod, all cockiness gone as from his demeanor as he addresses the Chosen Hero. “Thanks for sticking up for my idiot, feathers, watch him for a second while I handle this freak, yeah?” And Sky doesn’t even have time to speak or agree or even blink before Shadow has whizzed across the cam and sent one clawed fist slamming into Warriors’ face, a sickening crunch breaking the silence as Warriors stumbles, hand reaching for his face as Shadow wrings out his hand. “Thats for hurting my friend, you asshole!”

“Shadow.” Red’s wrested control as they flop against Sky’s chest. “That is not helping! You hurt Warriors!”

“He hurt you first!” The protective shade shouts back, crossing his arms and giving Wars his scary eyes before darting back to hover at Sky’s shoulder, much to the poor man’s surprise. “Racist jerk, what am I evil just because I’m a shadow? Never heard of shadow puppets as a kid? Or shadow dancing? Hey, guess what, you don’t need to think every freaking dark thing that moves is evil!”

Sky frowns, eyes straining as he stares at the being leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Four’s shadow, resident dragon master, smithy wrangler and protector of one stupid hero who thinks surrendering and keeping the peace is more important than keeping their hide in one piece.” Shadow pokes their shoulder pointedly at that, making them wince as Blue grumbles something about sharp claws.

“So, you are real.” Legend cocks his head, chest still heaving and cheeks still flushed as the vet visibly tries to force himself back under control. “Huh.”

Shadow turns, hovering mid-air and giving Legend a once over. The shade offers a strained grin, forced and brittle as he tries to distract them. “Rabbit huh? Nice. Rainbow’s always liked rodents. You the younger or older brother here?”

And even though all eyes are fixed on them, Warriors glaring and the others staring in disbelief, Four find themselves bursting into laughter because, of all things, of course Legend would apparently also have a shadow form, and the fact that it’s a rabbit is only making it worse. To their surprise, Sky’s laughter joins their own, and across camp, Twilight huffs a strained chuckle as Legend glares up at the floating shade.

“I told you!” Warriors wheezes, blood spilling down his face as he pulls himself up. “It's a shadow! Four’s working with Dark Link!”

Shadow hisses. “That nutcase? Are you kidding? I’d rather die again, thank you!”

And really, now is as good a time as any for them to explain. “He’s just a normal shadow, Wars. Yeah, Ganon and Vaati brought him to life, but he’s been helping me protect Hyrule since we freed him form their control. He’s on our side, he was just nervous about showing himself around all of you guys because we heard you all talking about your own shadows.” Their eyes are flickering violet as they stare at the captain, and they know it. “He’s not a monster, and he’s only a threat if you make him one, same as any of us.”

The captain moves to protest, only to have Hyrule clear his throat from the edge of camp, all eyes swiveling to the traveler as Hyrule nods slowly. “He’s telling the truth, the Legends of the Four Sword all say that the hero befriended and helped his shadow, and the shadow reformed and sacrificed himself to save Hyrule.”

“Exactly.” Legend squeak growls. “The only threat in this camp is someone who’s more willing to draw a blade on their comrade than to approach them with their concerns.” The words make Wars flinch, maybe more than the blow Shadow had landed to his face, and though the captain makes to speak, he's cut off once again by Legend’s harsh voice. “Don’t want to hear it, Captain. I’ve got my brother to help heal up after what you did to him.”

It’s like the mirror shattering all over again, the silence in the air as two parties are separated by a line none can see as Legend and Sky settle on the opposite side of the camp from the others, Shadow hovering over the vet’s shoulder as Legend turns his back on Warriors, dabbing gently at the cut on Four's throat with a cloth damp with red potions.

The captain stiffens, standing and turning on his heel to march towards the other end of camp.

Blue eyes never leave them as their three protectors hover and fuss over them.

[bakugohoex]

This may be a bit of a different request, and you may have already done this, but could I ask for Levi comforting a reader after a panic attack...I've had a rough few days and I always seem to have a worse panic attack after the first one... I adore your writing, and it always makes me feel a bit better! 💗

“look at me y/n, you’re with me, you’ll be okay”

pairing: levi ackerman x female reader

cw: mentions of violence, panic attack, language, fluff and comfort 

word count: 2100+

a/n: hi im so sorry this is coming out really late but thank you for the support and i hope you’re doing better, if you ever want to talk to my messages are always open for anything 

summary:  in which you have a panic attack after a long scouting mission and levi comes and comforts you

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Your hands trembled under the dim light that you carried, you could almost see the light shake but didn’t dare surpress the movement. You were an apart of the front line when on expeditions and had gone on your own squad mission, you were only the second in command. But then it had taken a lot more of a toll on you, outside the walls for longer than the normal one-day expeditions. The three days outside with those who had been in your squad.

But here you were on your single horse, the only light from you, your came up high. The only benefit of nightfall was how easily it was to get past unnoticed. You had seen titans around you fast asleep, being as quiet as you could.

Inside though, your heart raced, a shortness of breath came from you. You tried to steady it, you did, but you were alone ten minutes away from the walls. Ten minutes away from humanity, you wouldn’t be alone, you’d be protected. You’d be safe.

The flashes of blood scattered across the trees; you had been laughing with the squad a mere day ago. Now you had left there bodies, left them alone, your breathing hitched, hearing the light dim even more. The coldness swept past you, the faces of half-eaten comrades through your vision before the supressed tears fell down your face.

Your own left arm had been bandaged up; you remember the captain having bandaged you up. His grin wide at the sight of you both joking along beside a campfire. Then his face, the half-eaten face in front of you, there screams tormented your ears.

It filled your insides, screaming and shouts for help. They say that to die a scout was honourable, but you watched them die, watched them plea and bargain, it wasn’t honourable, it wasn’t dignified. It was torturous and pitiful. You tried to wipe your eyes but couldn’t, letting it seep down your face.

Seeing the wall rose, you dropped the waved the light with your last strength. Seeing the doors open, your horse trotted through, seeing men come up to you. “They’re inside.” Trost had housed the scouts for a while now and the men helping you down.

You had no words to them; you didn’t speak only taking your bandaged arm and going to where Erwin and the other captains were. The men who had helped asked where everybody else was, but you were silent, feeling nausea and the tears dripping into your sweat.

All the scouts were together all eating the same gruel it was every other day. The captains and commander sitting on their own table. You saw them, your face flushed and your breathing heavy, you had still been carrying the light, but at the sound of dropping it. The shattering caused the dead silence all eyes turning to you at the door.

Your blood covered fingers, the cut on your cheek, the tears and sweat dripping from your face. Your bandaged arm, your heavy breathing and trembling, it had become too much for you. You only joined to be with your friend, to make sure they would always be safe. But you watched them die, watched them scream and shout as the Titan bit into them, savouring them, you had broken the promise.

“Y/n.” Erwin spoke standing up, he began to walk past everybody, Hanje and Levi following.

You choked on your words but still spoke, “we…we got a…attacked and…and I was the only one who’s…survived.” On your final words the tears welled from your face, you breath quickening, you fell to the ground, your bloody hands up to your face. You sobbed out loud, breaking the silence, Levi came up to you walking past Erwin who was about to talk himself, he bent down to reach your fragile body.

You rocked back and forth, the screams filling your ears, all you could feel, could see was them being eaten. See how your captain had pushed you away from being eaten, you should’ve died, not him. Levi grabbed your shoulder bringing your body into his own, “look at me Y/n, you’re with me, you’ll be okay.”

“L…Levi.” You stuttered but didn’t meet his gaze.

His arms felt soft against your rough shell, going around your bloodied body, you felt sick to the stomach, continuing to rock back and forth with all the memories coming through you. He touched your face softly, a movement that you didn’t expect. He could almost feel your shaky breath hit his skin, he didn’t speak moving his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

He held you close, you could hear him whisper comforts into your ear, staying in his arms. It was comfort he had never given to you, the relationship with him being professional and even with your love for the man. He didn’t love you; this was friendship, this was his comforting a friend and you realised the only person you had left was Levi, the only person who you could call family was Levi.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” It was a question, it wasn’t a command it wasn’t an order, he wanted you to feel safe.

You nodded still trembling, your limbs trembled as you stood up, Levi grabbing your waist to let you lean against him. “Hanje go help.” Erwin ordered not knowing how to react, of course he knew death was always going to happen.

He knew you had experience with death before, but you’d be alone for who knows how long, you’d watched people who you called family die in front of you and worst of all. Worst of fucking all was the strongest soldier he had met became vulnerable in a matter of minutes.

“Commander Erwin we want to go help Y/n.” Eren and his group came up to the man, Erwin didn’t know what to say instead looking at the kids.

“She needs some time.” He spoke before following Hanje and Levi who kept you upright in their arms.

Levi ran a bath for you, you shivered under the coldness. Having only felt it as you stripped the clock off and were left in your bloody clothes, “I’ll go get you some new clothes.” Hanje spoke and you tried to thank her, but you couldn’t speak.

Memories filled through you, smiling at Levi and Hanje a couple days ago, how they gave the same don’t die comment. Your friends did, you had nobody, Levi turned around, an indication for you to strip, you did so and head the water splash as your body was in it. You didn’t care if he saw, nothing mattered anymore, if you let yourself go under the water, who cared.

The panic that had set in and you had stopped trembling as much, but still Levi saw you look outside. Look outside the walls, he knew you were thinking of the corpses that you had left alone. “Y/n.”

You turned to see him, he sat on the stool beside the bath. Grabbing your arm, he rubbed the dirt away, rubbed any blood that had situated on your body. “Levi, I couldn’t save them.” Your voice had become normal, but he could see the tears, see how you breath was still heavy and the faint look that captured your eyes.

“Don’t do this.” He moved to your face, your hair tied, his fingers moved to the cut, it wasn’t deep and would scar over but it was filled with mud and soot. He rubbed it gently, your eyes on his, watching every single thing he did.

“It should’ve been me.” Levi let go of your face glaring at you.

He wasn’t calm anymore, he felt for you of course he did but the words that would come out of his mouth would be a reality check, “no, I’m grateful that you survived because if you died, if you fucking died Y/n, I don’t know what I’d do.”

It was selfish, but since you had spoken the words of being the only survivor, he had been grateful, grateful you had survived. “Levi, don’t say…”

He interrupted you, “don’t what? If you died Y/n…”

He stopped have spoken too much, he regained his normal dull composure, grabbing your other arm and scrubbing the dirt away. “I’m sorry.”

Ignoring the apology, Hanje came back with the clothes, allowing you to get out and change into the fresh survey corps uniform. You smelled fresh and anew, your arm being re wrapped by Hanje as you waited for Erwin.

Even after your panic attack when riding outside the walls and in front of Levi, the thoughts still filled you and your legs shook underneath. “Y/n.” Erwin’s voice fell through the door, his gentle knock making you nod to Hanje to speak.

“Come in.” She spoke standing up for Erwin to take her spot in front of you.

Levi stood beside the window, looking outside, he admired the stars and sky. He hadn’t been there to protect, he hadn’t saved you, he had let you suffer all alone, in the cold and dark. It was a pit of regret and guilt to now have been there for you.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Erwin asked softly.

There voices had become a lot softer trying to be tentative of your fragility, you took in a sharp breathe, fingers trembling, “I…it was two days ago.” You paused looking at your fingers, Levi noticed and came up to you. He grabbed your hands and held them between his fingers, rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand. He nodded for you to continue, it brought some relief and you looked directly into Erwin’s eyes.

You spoke the events that occurred, how you had been camping outside and before you knew it a hoard of titans had come. How there was too many and by the end of the say half of your squad had gotten murdered. It was how you had gotten injured, the squad members left had decided to head back and whilst going back by horse, you encountered another hoard of titans in the morning. The graphic detail of how your friend had gotten eaten and how your captain had pushed you aside to not get killed had created silence in the room.

“I’d been riding since the afternoon, it was…was hard to make sure Titans didn’t see me.” It was your final words, and Levi moved to wipe the stray tear from your eye. He understood more after hearing the story, why you had said it should’ve been you. But mostly he knew he’d have to protect you; he didn’t care you were his only priority and responsibility now.

“We’ll send some men to find their bodies.” Erwin softly brushed your shoulder with his palm, you nodded at him. “Get some rest Y/n.”

You watched him leave but just as him and Hanje were about to leave you spoke, “Erwin.”

He stopped looking at you, you could see the sympathy he had in his eyes, but you needed to say this before anything else, “I’m going on the next expedition.”

Levi was about to speak to stop you, but Erwin spoke up, “if that’s what you want.”

You nodded and he left swiftly, Hanje following. It was dead silent Levi having removed his hands from yours and pacing back and forth. “You can’t go on the expedition.”

“I don’t care Levi, I’m going, who the hell cares if I die? I have nobody, me dying won…” You had clearly disregarded his previous words, when listening you had assumed it all too be friendly and that he was just saying it to be nice.

His interruption made his emotionless face look sterner and angrier, “it’ll affect me, I’d rather die then let you die for your stupid suicide mission.”

It stung but you didn’t speak, only looking down, “I’m not speaking about this, leave.” You moved towards the bed, about to lie down to think and maybe get some rest.

“Y/n, if you die then I’ll have nobody.” It was a whisper, but you heard it, meeting his gaze.

You sat on the bed, he moved closer to you, his hands moving to cup your face, “I need to go.”

“I know, I want to protect you.” You didn’t speak leaning against his shoulder, his arm around your waist bringing you warmth.

You looked out the window, you understood him, you couldn’t protect your friend but maybe you and Levi could protect each other. You understood that the comfort he had brought through your panic attack was a lot more than any friend would do. Staying in his arms, the way his hands moved up and down your sides. In a soft whisper he heard the four words he had dreamt of hearing, “I love you, Levi.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens

[going-dead]

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears

Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l

Team Human: @currentlylurking​

Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.

Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish. “Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.

“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.

One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.

Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.

All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.

After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.

The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”

“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.

Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.

Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.

Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.

David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”

“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.

“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body. There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.

Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.

1: Phantom at some point had died

2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.

3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.

As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?

Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.

Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.

“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along. If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”

Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.” “Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.

“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”

Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”

As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”

David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.

Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”

David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”

“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”

“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.

Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”

“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.”  Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”

“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”

“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.

“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”

Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.

[kuronanox]

I just wanted you to be happy-Nacht

(Author note: hello everyone I know I’ve been gone for awhile because I needed a break but I’m back and finals are around the corner so after that expect more stories!)

WARNING: Implied suicide

“Hey who's this hottie you've been sulking about?" Vanessa pokes her side as they sipped on red wine and ate some cheese and crackers. Swirling her wine glass she leaned on one elbow and sighed. Reminiscing the times her and Nacht had together.

"He's just a old fling, nothing much. You'd be surprised how important he is though." (Your Name) grinned tipsy and borderline drunk. Staring at the red wine she stop grinning and slowly knitted her brows.

"Doesn't seem like a fling to me girl." Vanessa smirks but doesn't budge on the topic any longer.

(Your Name) sat still leaning on her elbow and staring at the wine. The color was reminding her about blood and how it haunted her every night.

"To think I was the most important in your life."

"Why do you hide in the shadows Nacht?" She asks as they sat by the tree feeling the breeze.

"I don't always." He responds back with a smile on his face. The very one he always had with his eyes closed.

She knew he was dangerous, he would never hurt her but mentally she couldn't open him up as much as he said she helped him. Letting down his hair she brushed it between her fingers and hummed a song.

"(Your Name)?" Nacht says hesitantly as she tugged his hair for him to continue.

"Your the most important person to me." He continues acting out of character as she blushed and hugged him from behind.

After Vanessa and her downed four bottles of wine that night she was stumbling back to the room and refused help from Finral and Asta who insisted. She needed to be alone, after remembering memories of her love it was painful to not cry and scream.

Opening the door to her room she stumbled into bed and cried in her covers. It was pure torture she didn't know where Nacht was or his whereabouts.

"I hate him." She yells and chokes a sob once more. "I hate him so much."

Trying to regain her breathing (Your Name) made it to her desk and open the drawl to reveal the only picture she and Nacht had. He hated pictures but he had agreed that day to take one.

Placing the picture by her bed she laid down as the room started to spin and she blacked out with no more tears.

"Please can we take a photo!" She begs Nacht dragging his arm to a spot under a stall that had lights decorated for a festival they attended.

"Absolutely not. You know I don't like them." He softly tells her as she frowned and looked down to her feet in complete silence.

Nacht sighed and lifted her head and gave her a smile. "I suppose one doesn't hurt love."

Holding the only memories captured of them he wore the biggest smile he had in his entire life. To say he was the happiest that day was true. (Your Name) had planned a small date because he was feeling down. Even if he didn't tell her she could tell he was not feeling well.

Nacht hated the black bulls, he hated coming here but he always came to check up on (Your Name) every once in a while. Walking through the main room he saw the many liquor bottles that were opened and finished. "I dislike people who can't hold their liquor."

"But for her I couldn't."

Appearing into her room it was pitch black except for the small crack of the moon appearing between her blinds. She was faced face down on the bed still in her uniform. Nacht was always quiet when he visited her and that's why she never knew.

Flipping her gently he placed a pillow by her side and covered her body in a blanket and leaving her feet out because he knew that's how she preferred sleeping.

After he looked at the photo she had left out. With a sharp pain in his heart he sadly smiled at it as he brushed it gently with his hands. Nacht was complicated through out their relationship and (Your Name) tried so hard to keep it together only for him to throw it all away.

She sacrificed her own happiness so he could feel that emotion he missed out on part of his life.

"Are you leaving again?" She asks one night as he came into her room with a dark face. Today was different he didn't want to deal with anything but just run away from everything.

"Yes." He plainly answers turning his back to her as she sighs.

"What's wrong Nacht? You know you can talk to me."

With sheer anger he took her dagger and tried to slash himself to put himself out of misery of feeling guilty to haven to be the twin that lived and not his brother. 

"Nacht stop!" She screamed and reacted quickly enough for him to slash her arm instead. The blood trickled down her as she yelled in pain and stumbled back a bit in surprise.

"I-" he says as she falls to the floor and cries.

"I really try to be there for you, you know I would never judge you. I put away my happiness to make you happy. I know it's stupid but I care so much for you. I don't get to see you often so I try to make the best of each moments Nacht. So please nothing was your fault."

Dropping the dagger he fell on his knees and covered his eyes. His vision getting hazy from the blood on his hands and a mix of tears.

"Stop! Stop trying to act like you know me!" He says but regrets saying it to her. "I don't need your pity! That's why we are here right! Because we are broken, damaged and good for nothing losers!" He screamed at her as she holds her arms to stop the bleeding.

"Nacht don't-"

He looks down at the floor as they sat across from each other breathing heavily.

"I don't need you (Your Name) if I'm the cause of your pain I should just leave."

(Your Name) shakes her head and tries to touch him but he slapped her hand away and got up walking towards the door.

"It's best this way, we both won't be hurting no more."

Nacht swallowed his salvia a bit remembering that painful memory as he placed the photo back. Sitting on the side of her bed he watched her sleep peacefully. She had been crying and he could tell cause her eyes were puffy and still a bit red.

"I don't deserve someone like you."

Grabbing her hand he brushed around the scar on her arm and placed soft kisses on them and a final one on her forehead. "One day I hope you forgive me."

"Because it's people like you that I like."

Taking one last look at her sleeping Nacht left quietly in the night.

Waking up the next morning (Your Name) felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she felt wozy. Groaning she turned her head to see a glass of water and a couple of pills on the desk. "Oh bless whoever left it there." She says and happily takes the pill and drinks all the water.

As she swallowed all the water her eyes averted down to see a small piece of paper and a N written on it. Her eyes widen as the glass dropped and choked a bit.

"He's been watching me."

A feeling of anger came towards her as she stomped down to the main living room and looked around only to see the same chaos and no sign of him.

"What's gotten you angry?" Yami says blankly as he smoked his cigarette and she straighten herself and scoffs. "Um it's nothing."

Taking a seat she whispers to Yami. "You wouldn't have seen Nacht recently?" She slyly asks

Yami laughs and blew his smoke out. "I haven't seen that man in ages! Sorry kid. Your secret safe with me though."

Watching everyone's chaos so early in the morning only made her hangover worse as she walked back to her room.

"Just where are you Nacht." She whispers softly.

"I'm right here." He lovingly response back touching her shoulder with his hand. As much as she wanted to be surprised (Your Name) was already use to him popping out of nowhere.

"Why were you in my room last night? I thought you didn't care anymore?"

He sits next to her and places his hands in hers.

"The emotions we hold are very strong sometimes it makes us regret our actions." He speaks looking down at their intertwined hands.

"You tried to kill yourself, I was so scared and I felt helpless when I wanted to help."

Nacht doesn't say a word and pulls her into a hug.

"I've been working on myself since I left." He explains truthfully feeling guilty for leaving her in the dark and casting his darkness on her.

"I just wanted you to be happy."

"I know and for that I am grateful."

There was a moment of silence between the two as they knew things weren't going to be perfect and happy all the time. The life they lived and chosen made them on this path.

"I'm sorry." Nacht says to her feeling the pain of lost. One which he felt before and now he decided that someone was there for him and he would accept it because truthfully he never wanted to leave her.

"You never have to be sorry for the way you feel." She tells him as he clung to her tighter now.

"And this is why I love you so much." He smiles lovingly to her as she smiled back.

[reminisce05-20]

Dazai - The Book - Double Black

Dazai couldn't remember being a child, one of elementary age. He had only started to remember when he was around 14, which was when he first met Mori.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should be searching for answers, of who his parents could've been or where he came from, but he had easily moved on. Perhaps too easily, but he had no regrets. After all, the past didn't define him. He could write his own story from the present.

Only after words started to be written on his pale skin did he start to wonder who he really was.

Long sleeves could suffice, but just in case, Dazai wrapped bandages around his arms. Then his torso. Then up to his neck and finally his eye to give the air of an injury. The words hadn't spread quite that much, but it made his stomach crawl whenever he saw the squiggly lines all over his body. It was simply a precaution in case more words suddenly appeared.

Dazai soon met Chuuya, who was loud and angry and short, which made it even funnier when Dazai riled him up. Chuuya insisted that he was still young and growing. For the first time, Dazai wanted to laugh at the words he had seen yesterday on his elbow. Chuuya will never grow.

Although the words brought occasional joy, when he was 18, he saw words on the back of his left arm that said, Sakunosuke Oda will die. Sakunosuke couldn't die. His ability allowed him to see things moments before they actually happened, and Sakunosuke wasn't dumb. He would be fine.

He never had allowed the words on his arms and body to ever affect him. Words, in general, had never affected him since Dazai believed actions could speak much more.

"Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit wonderful."

For once, he took the words to heart.

Once, long ago when he was still young, not in the Detective Agency nor even the Mafia, Dazai had written something on his arm, something that tattooed itself to his arm for just a second before it burned away with terrible pain.

Dazai experimented. His ability, "No Longer Human", obviously canceled out abilities with no exception. The words were things to happen, things that were happening, and things that had happened. The timing for when the events actually took place differed, from as small as a minute to as long as a year. Dazai couldn't change events that were going to happen or create an entirely new one. It was probably a strange mix of the words and his ability.

Dazai had considered going to the President to inform him of the words. He was fairly sure that everyone else in the agency believed the bandages to be a fashion choice, excluding Ranpo and the President. He walked in front of the office door for a few minutes, pacing, before walking back to his desk. Perhaps the talk could be moved to another time.

The words were often too ugly to be shown to others.

Dazai was good at planning things, which made it entirely his fault that he hadn't prepared ahead for this.

A few days ago words had appeared on his collarbone, ones that said, "Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed." If Chuuya was going to showcase his powers, Dazai would no doubt be sent along unless Chuuya had managed to somehow subdue his powers effectively. Sure enough, he was sent to settle a dispute that would benefit both the Mafia and the Agency. It was always nice, seeing the top of Chuuya's hat, showing that he had indeed not grown a single bit.

He had misinterpreted the "secrets" on his arm. Dazai had expected it to be Chuuya's secrets, of how he stayed so short all the time.

In Arahabaki form, Chuuya had never attacked Dazai, at least not to kill. He had to have some semblance of control to not kill the only person that could bring him back, even if Chuuya hated him. But this time, right after defeating the enemy, Chuuya turned on him in an instant, giving Dazai no time to nullify his ability.

It would have been fine. Dazai only took a few hard hits before he tapped Chuuya on the head, nullifying his ability. They both staggered for a moment before Dazai laughed.

"Well, that was awfully close wasn't it, Chuuya?"

Chuuya huffed, angry but too tired to anything about it.

"Only if you had touched me a little earlier maybe you - hey what's that on your arm?"

Dazai froze before he looked at his left arm, bandages slightly unraveled, revealing the inky text on his arm.

"Some tattoo shit? Or maybe weird scars..."

Chuuya took a step forward while Dazai hurriedly rebandaged his arm with a hopefully winning grin.

"How observant of you."

Chuuya scowled for a second before staring at Dazai.

"Seriously, was it just some weirdo tattoo? Show me what you have written there."

Dazai made a mental note to seriously work out and train with Kunikida. Then again, it probably wouldn't bring him near Chuuya's level for a long time. Even after using Arahabaki, Chuuya stomped forward, grabbing his arm and unwrapping the bandage with unreasonable strength and speed. His control must have actually been getting better. Or maybe they had just defeated the enemy faster today.

"What the - what the heck is this Dazai?"

He didn't have the strength to stand properly, staggering a little bit while unsuccessfully trying to get out of Chuuya's iron grip.

"An occult tattoo I got when I was 14. It says 'fuck off Chuuya'."

"It literally says 'Sakunosuke Oda will die'. I've heard of that name before... who was that again?"

Out of all the sentences Chuuya could have seen, it had to be that one. Why not the one about Atsushi dropping his ice cream, or maybe the one about Chuuya's height? They could have laughed over that.

"This actually happened didn't it Dazai? Like, a few years ago?"

At this point, Dazai simply didn't care enough to wrench his wrist away from Chuuya. He had wanted to tell someone about this for so long. Chuuya and he didn't have the best relationship, but they could certainly trust each other. After all, they had been partners, right?

"It tells me things that are going to happen. Well, at the time of course. This already happened a while ago."

Chuuya simply stared, unsure of what to believe.

"I tried changing history once. It hurt really bad, I think it's got something to do with my goddamn ability, I hate seeing the words every day and having to bandage them - "

"Um... Dazai, calm down."

He hadn't realized he was breathing so heavily. His chest felt like it was burning.

It felt like it was burning just like when he was young - why was it like this when he hadn't written anything down on his skin?

"Dazai, what's going on?"

Dazai turned away from Chuuya before throwing his jacket off, then his vest, then his shirt to reveal the mass of bandages covering every inch of his skin.

"What the fuck Dazai, stop stripping in front of me - "

Dazai for once ignored Chuuya instead of sending back an angry retort. He unwrapped the bandages, not caring if Chuuya saw the words or not since the pain was burning as if he was dying and he wanted it to just stop. Stop stop stop.

The bandages were off to show the mass of writing on his back and arms and stomach and even up to his neck. Chuuya's breathing became softer, more confused and curious.

Chuuya will never grow.

Dazai will trip and fall on the doormat before meeting Akutagawa for the first time.

Sakunosuke Oda will die.

Atsushi will drop the ice cream Dazai bought for him and will be horrified.

More evil will soon come in Yokohama.

Chuuya will unleash Arahabaki once more. Secrets will be revealed.

Chuuya simply stared, dumbfounded, trying to read everything written on Dazai's back. Dazai on the other hand, looked down at the center of his chest to see just a few words.

Yokohama's Page - By Osamu Dazai.

The words were a gleaming gold, burning his skin before suddenly cooling into the familiar black, only a small golden border on the edges of each letter. Chuuya had now walked in front of him, kneeling, reading the words that had just appeared.

"So. You're some special shit."

Dazai let out a flat laugh. Indeed he was.

"It says 'More evil will soon come in Yokohama'. Right, Dazai?"

Dazai nodded blindly. He couldn't remember that one, but maybe it was because it was on his back. It was hard to read from a mirror.

"You should tell your agency this. Have you told them?"

Dazai's silence was the same as a confirmation. Chuuya mumbled something about how he always had to make his life worse, although Dazai knew that it was halfhearted.

After Dazai put on every single one of his bandages, thoroughly covering every inch of skin along with his other clothes, Chuuya and he walked in silence for a little. Usually, they would've been arguing all the way back, making the silence feel even worse.

"Oy. Dazai."

Chuuya growled when Dazai didn't make any move to answer before sighing and backing down. Dazai blinked, seeing that for the first time, Chuuya had backed down from an argument.

"We were partners before. Are we still partners?"

Dazai smiled.

"If we're partners, I'll be annoying you all day! I think that'd be pretty nice ~ "

"Well fuck you too!"

It was nice, feeling the usual annoyance flowing through Chuuya, the same remarks they always passed forth to each other.

"So you're saying we are partners, Dazai."

Dazai's eyes narrowed. What was with Chuuya being overly... nice all of a sudden? Being so calm?

Chuuya, catching Dazai's eyes screeched again before kicking over a trash can.

"I'm saying I can help you with this goddamn book shit! Words! Partners! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Dazai stared as Chuuya knocked over a few more trash cans while screaming about how utterly dumb Dazai could be for someone that was supposed to be so smart, so crafty, and so manipulative.

The familiar tickle of more words caused Dazai to flinch, hand moving toward his neck where the words seemed to be. Chuuya, who was done with his little fit, stopped for a second before walking over, no doubt intrigued. Dazai tugged the bandages down a little bit while Chuuya read the words out loud.

"Fyodor Dostoevsky is looking for another part of the book in Yokohama."

Dazai's eyes widened when he heard the name, and Chuuya no doubt understood that this man was someone dangerous if they could elicit such a reaction from Dazai. They looked at each other, understanding passing through their eyes.

"Well, I guess we're partners again Chuuya!"

"Only because I fucking have to!"

Dazai supposed that he would also have to tell the Agency about this. And as more people knew, the news would inevitably spread to the Mafia too. He only had to make sure that Fyodor didn't receive the information, and that was if Fyodor didn't already know about him.

"Fucking Dazai."

Chuuya grabbed Dazai's hair and pulled, forcing Dazai to yelp while batting Chuuya's hands away.

"We're going to crush this bastard Fyodor."

Dazai laughed at the sheer amount of determination in Chuuya's name, laughing like he never had ever before.

Indeed, Double Black would crush the enemy like they always did.

___________________________

Kind of an abrupt end, but you get the idea :>

[hypnomicimagines]

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.  

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

So I looked through a detransition blog just out of curiosity, since it was one you reblogged, but now I’m super... freaked out? I have a top surgery consultation in April but now I have this weird fear that I’m faking it or that I’ll regret it afterwards. I’ve identified as somewhere along non-binary and trans (he/they!) for over a year, and I’ve known I’m not a girl for even longer, but now I’m just so afraid that maybe I don’t know myself at all. Do you have any advice on what this is?

Lee says:

Discussing your feelings with a therapist can sometimes help you untangle the anxiety from everything else. It’s reasonable to have some apprehension about a major surgery that can have a big impact on your life because it is a big change- and like any other surgery, it also has medical risk and can result in complications. 

And reading about other people’s feelings about their surgeries can be helpful! I do recommend reading things from people who were happy with the outcome and reading things from people who weren't to get a better perspective on the range of experiences that can exist. Only reading the negative or the positive doesn’t provide a balanced view!

But even if you read other people’s stories, and talk to them about why they feel the way they do about their choices and bodies, nobody else can tell you what you should do for yourself. Even a therapist can’t know for sure if you will regret surgery (or anything else that you choose to do) because nobody can see into the future, see into your heart, and see into mind simultaneously to and determine for certain what it is that you need. 

As soon as I came out as non-binary when I was 15, I started saving money for top surgery. I was someone who ran towards top surgery at full tilt and I didn’t give myself any space for doubt about whether it was the right choice for me because I felt it was the only choice I had-- forwards or nothing. I was pretty severely depressed at the time and had a brief hospitalization the month before I turned 18, and I was sort of pinning all my hopes on top surgery reducing my dysphoria and booting out my depression. So I scheduled my consultation as soon as I turned 18 and was legally an adult and could do so without parental permission. I immediately scheduled my surgery for the soonest available date, and had inverted-T incision top surgery about 3 months after I turned 18.

Now I’m 21 years old, and I’m 3 years and 5 months post-op from my top surgery. 

In retrospect, top surgery was 110% the right choice for me. If I could do it all over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Top surgery really did reduce my dysphoria by a significant amount, and that made it easier for me to cope with my depression and other mental health issues. I was proudly parading around the house shirtless as soon as I was able to stop using post-op compression, before my incisions had even healed into scars.

I don’t have any dysphoria about my chest anymore, especially now that I’ve gotten tattoos to cover my scars. I finally feel like I look like how I always knew I was meant to look.

I don’t post pictures of my chest anymore because I have distinguishing tattoos but I’ve posted a few before/after pictures when I was 3 years post-op and I think things have only gotten better now.

I was lucky to not have any complications; I don’t have any nerve pain, and hypertrophic or keloid scarring, and I didn’t need any revisions. But there are some things that are non-ideal compared to if I had just been born with a typical cis-guy flat chest. My nips are a little wonky in color and shape, and I plan on getting medical tattoos at some point to even the edges out. I also have slightly muted sensation in my chest now, so everything is like slightly number than it was before.

When I was pre-op, I did enjoy having nipple sensation that was pleasurable; even though I had inverted t-incision top surgery which preserved the nipple stalk, I still only have tactile, temperature, and pain sensations in my chest. If you put an ice cube on my nipple and my eyes were closed, I’d know it was cold. If you poked me while I was looking away, I’d still feel it. And if you squeezed me, it would hurt. But somehow it doesn’t feel good anymore like it used to. 

I don’t know how much of that loss in erotic sensation is a mental thing and how much is a physical change caused by scar tissue build up around the nerve. But regardless, it is a real loss. 

For me, that loss is well worth it. While I might have been physically capable of experiencing erotic nipple/chest sensation before, I rarely actually did have that experience because it made me too dysphoric and I didn’t like to take my shirt off during sex. Now I feel more fully present and comfortable in my own body and it makes me more engaged so I can focus on my partner and on the other feelings I’m having and how I look isn’t something that is detracting from the experience. 

In general, top surgery has made my life better in a million ways. I love running shirtless with my college cross country team, I like going swimming at the beach with no shirt, and I like the way I look now when I see myself in a mirror after stepping out of the shower. 

When I get dressed in the morning, my day starts off on a neutral note because it’s just me putting on clothes. Sometimes I pause to think about how I can just put on a shirt and feel good about it and move on. Before, I used to be upset every morning because the first thing I’d be reminded of when I woke up was that my chest was there and I didn’t want it to be. I’m Autistic, and binding was Not comfortable for me sensory-wise, so not having to bind was also nice.

I would choose to get top surgery again, but that doesn’t mean that it’s the right choice for each and every person. I am sure it was the right choice for me, and I have no regrets at all, I never want to have breasts again. But someone else might think that not having erotic nipple sensation is a dealbreaker, or they might not be comfortable with scars if they tend to heal with more visible raised scars that are harder to cover with a tattoo like I did mine.

So I can tell you that top surgery has made my life better and I’m glad I got it and I don’t think that there would have been any way for me to be as happy as I am now if I had not gotten it. Top surgery is life saving and life-changing for some people, and I am one of those people. I might be more inclined to tell people that if you think you need surgery you should get it because my surgery went so well and because I’m still identifying as genderqueer, transmasculine, and non-binary, just like I was when I was 15, so my identity is pretty static there.

Some other post-op people may tell you that they regret their surgery, that they wish they hadn’t done it, and they would make a different decision if they could go back in time. They might want to help warn other people to not make the same mistake that they did.  Detransitioned folks often (but not always) have a different perspective than folks who persisted in being transgender and that’s okay- it isn’t a better perspective or a worse one, just a different one. But both trans and reidentified people can feel this way, even though it’s usually more common for de-trans folks to regret surgical procedures that it is for trans folks.

I semi-rushed into surgery for both emotional and logistical reasons but I knew it was right for me. But that isn’t the best choice for everyone and if you aren’t 100% sure that it is what you want and need then there’s nothing wrong with having the consultation with the surgeon to learn more and then thinking things over before you schedule a surgery date (or don’t), you don’t need to immediately schedule a surgery date after the consult. Think of it as an interview and as an information gathering session.

Neither of us can tell you what you should do because neither of us are “right” or “wrong” about top surgery. It’s just a different experience and a different perspective. We all have biases based on our own way of seeing things, and that can inform our advice.

If you know what the risks are, and you’ve given it careful thought and can provide an informed consent, then whether you should get surgery is your decision. I won’t tell you “go get it!” or “don’t go get it!” and I don’t think that any blogger should be telling anons what medical procedures to get or not get. 

Worrying that you’re faking it, that you don’t know who you are, and worrying about regret is something that can be pretty scary and frustrating, but you don’t need to figure it out on your own, and it’s okay to take a little longer to come to a decision and talk it over with a therapist if you think it’s necessary to help you cope with that anxiety.

But yeah, I believe that ultimately you have to trust your gut feelings on what you know to be right for you.

Top surgery 101 links

Finding a therapist

Side note: While we do our best to avoid reblogs from obvious TERFs/truscum/transphobes/racists/sexists/ableists/etc to avoid exposing people to triggering content by boosting the blog’s visibility, and we do appreciate getting heads up asks about reblogs from a problematic OP, if we reblog a post from someone we do not necessarily endorse all of the content in every post they’ve made, and we don’t necessarily agree with all of the blogger’s opinions either. We reblog a specific post if we think seeing that post might be helpful for some of our followers.

[damn-stark]

Slytherin vs. Gryffindor

Chapter 16 of Different light

A/N- Got to enjoy the last happy moments in this series while we can :):

Warning- Angst, Fluff!

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Darkness caved in the class whilst thick white smoke slowly crept out of the cabinet and filled the room in an eerie presence. The whispers of curious students who anxiously waited to see what scared you, slowly died down and instead let silence echo loudly in the class.

Fear was the lesson for today’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. Snape said that fear is a weakness, and we must all face our fear to grow stronger in these troubled times. And you knew your fear, you’ve met your fear. And yet you didn’t grow strong either of the times you’ve seen him. Doubtful that much would change now as you faced the Boggart.

You wanted to just leave class, you were filled with the temptation. Yet you stood still as you watched the thick white smoke turn green, casting the room in its bright green hue and cloud in front of you. It took a moment to take form, the smoke just slowly floated towards you, causing you to swallow thickly and curiously step forward to pull your arm from your side and hesitantly reach your fingers towards the smoke.

At first you expected to feel nothing, but the moment your fingers went through the thick green smoke the tip of your fingers began to sting sharply. You pulled your hand back and found that the moment you did, the pain ceased to exist, your fingers didn’t throb, or burn anymore. But that was it right, the fear, it poisoned your mind. It made you believe that the smoke was something painful when it really wasn’t, when it really was something much worse.

The moment you tore your eyes from your fingers and looked up to the smoke, you saw it hastily form into Voldemort and Nagini. Their bodies and faces perfectly vivid in front of you. You tried to raise your wand to say the spell to get rid of what taunted you, to transform them into something funny, but the forms in front of you were paralyzing; they made your breath catch in your throat and your heart violently thump inside your chest. Everything around you blended with the dark room as your eyes solely focused on Voldemort and Nagini.

Professor Snape tried to snap you out of the spell fear casted upon you, but his voice just travelled to the back of your head. All you could do was watch as Voldemort's cold eyes pierced into your soul and Nagini slithered towards you, stopping a few inches before you and raising her head to snap at you and make you flinch back.

Again you could do nothing but stand there until Snape stepped in and made the boggart disappear, relieving your withered soul and letting you release a shaky breath of air whilst your focus returned to your surroundings. A fact that let you hear the whispers behind you, see Snape's dark soulless eyes burn into you and trigger you to hastily run out of the class and go to a lonely dimly lit hall.

You proceeded to check that no one was close by before you pressed your back on the stone wall to slide down to the floor, basking in the silence and loneliness to gently touch the scar on your cheek created by the man you feared. Soon thereafter following by lowering your hand and your eyes to look at your arm, hesitating for a few seconds before you slowly pulled the left sleeve that covered your skin to show yourself the black brand that was on your arm. Knowing that it was a cruel reminder that’d you always face your fear.

As long as he was alive you’d have to live with your fear.

——

“How about,” you pause and hesitate, softening your voice and hearing a faint quiver in your tone. “How about we send it to him some way? I don’t trust just letting someone deliver it. It’s too dangerous.”

“Have you gone soft?” Draco scolds you as he swings back to shoot you a narrowed gazed. “If we send it, we’d get caught, our mission would fail and…” Draco pauses this time and his blue eyes drop to the package in your hand before his shoulders stiffened and he finished his comment. “He would kill us.” His gaze lifts to meet yours and his eyes harden on you again. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so,” his voice rises, causing you to glance out the creek of the door to make sure no one was walking by so you could step toward your brother and shush him.

“Draco, not so loud,” you say in a loud whisper. “They'll hear you.”

Said boy scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping back to continue. “There's no room for the weak, do it, or die yourself.”

You stay quiet for a moment and challenge his gaze, seeing his hand inch towards the package in your hand before you pull it closer towards you and let out a deep groan. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Draco pulls his hand away and fixes his coat instead, nodding stiffly and pointing his head to the door before he lets out a quick comment. “Be careful.”

Your lips twitch slightly and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I will.” You offer him a quick assuring look before you turn to try to head out the door, albeit stopping as he speaks up.

“Perhaps I should do it instead,” Draco swallows thickly, his steps towards you echoing in the unoccupied room in the Three broomsticks. “You still seem hesitant and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

You look over your shoulder to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, turning his eyes away and shoving his hands in his pants pockets to finally let you leave. And it wasn’t an easy task, as you walked out the door it felt as if your feet were being weighed down by the weight of your guilt, every second of that short walk to the kitchen was a cruel torture. The smile that had been plastered on your lips was lost the moment you shut the door. Your mission became your priority and also your biggest regret.

But Draco was right. It was either do, or die. No room for mistakes or second chances.

Sometimes you thought though, when you were doing these secret endeavors, why you couldn’t have been born in a different family. You loved your family, yes, but it was because you were a Malfoy that this responsibility was laid upon you. It was just a passing thought, it appeared but usually disappeared like the wind.

Just like it did now as you entered the kitchen. You waited for Rosmerta in the shadows of the room with your wand in hand, taking note of her tardiness and growing angsty on getting this over with. It had felt like hours until she stumbled into the kitchen, when in reality it was only a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she stammered, her eyes instantly finding the package in your hand before she looked at you as she waited by the door.

“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter whilst you push yourself from the corner of the room to lift your wand and point it at her body, “this will just take a few seconds.” You narrow your gaze and block out any emotions that could spoil your plan. You become cold and unhesitant. “Imperio.” You command, stepping forward and slightly tilting your head to continue, “you’ll give this opal necklace to a student you seem fit, hex them and have them deliver it to Dumbledore.” You swallow thickly and drop your hand to put your wand away and walk past her, stopping just as you push the door open. “Don’t waste anymore time.”

“I won’t waste more time,” she slowly repeats in a monotone-like voice. You add nothing else in return and hastily exit the kitchen room to stride back to Draco, feeling the guilt you had tried to hold back slam down on you and causing tears to sting your eyes after you dropped the cold demeanor you tried to act on before.

It was hard to hold back your tears, to break down in that cold hall. But you had to show yourself and Draco that you were strong. Because you were. You were. You could do this.

“You did it?” Draco’s voice registers in your head as you absentmindedly enter the same room you had left him in.

Your eyes slowly drag up to his face and you nod once. “I did it.” You sigh and avert your gaze. “Can we go now? I have work to do.”

Draco’s silence echoes in the room as his eyes search your face, as he tries to read the emotions that were spilt all over your watery eyes. But he wasn’t able to look at your eyes to receive his answer. Leading him to instead sigh, “yeah. We wouldn’t want to get caught.” He walks past you and holds the door open so you could walk out first and hastily lead the way out of the Three broomsticks, with your head hung low. Unknowingly passing Harry and friends in the same pub.

Not like you were paying attention to who was in the pub, or really in the mood to talk to anyone at all. Draco had made a sly comment about seeing Harry, but you were thinking of other things to even capture what Draco had been mumbling about. All you wanted to do was get away from the pub and return to the comfort of school. Or really your dorm.

It was there where you did the opposite of what you told Draco you were going to do; where you could block out everything in the protection of your bed and under the security of your blankets. Where you could numb yourself to feel nothing at all, to avoid the guilt you were riddled with as you watched the candlelight dance on the black brand on your arm. And perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea, but it felt like the best. All until Clementine came to drag you out of your secluded bubble.

“What are you doing?” She questions as she yanks the blanket off your body. “It’s dinner time, you’ve already missed lunch and our study date, are you okay?”

“No,” grumble as you roll to your other side. “I feel sick.”

Clementine scoffs and then throws herself on your bed, looking at the ceiling and then giggling. “That’s a bunch of bullshit.”

You pull your sleeve over your arm and bury your face in your pillow. “I have a fever, I think. It’s really bad.”

“Come here,” Clementine orders, waiting for you to roll around to face her so she could gently press the back of her hand on your forehead and try to feel for what you claimed, her smile faltering and her dark eyes wandering over your head as she concentrated on her task.

Nonetheless her dark eyes brightened moments later and lowered to meet your own gaze to then slowly smile brightly and say her findings. “Oh yeah I feel something,”

“Fever.” You groggily confirm.

“Just a high amount of bullshit,” she snickers and smacks your forehead before she tears her hand away and snuggles closer to you. “Don’t you want to go see your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct her, “we’re just dating, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” she grinned smugly. “Regardless,” she sighed, losing her grin and instead dropping her gaze into a calm expression. “Don’t you want to come eat with your best friend and our annoying brothers then?”

You huff out and shake your head. “No on the brother part, but,” you sigh, “yes on the friend offer.”

“Good.” She interjects before she rolls off your bed and drags you out of your spot, letting you shove your shoes on before she took you downstairs to the main hall and sat you down beside Harry and friends.

“Hello everyone,” you greet warmly, meeting Harry’s blue eyes and offering him a sweet smile.

“Hi, y/n.” He greeted whilst he let his eyes linger on yours before he slid them to Clementine. “Clementine.”

“Hello,” she replied as she served herself a plate of dinner.

Hermione proceeded to greet the both of you, while Ron lazily did so, hardly even paying either of you any attention at first until he realized what was on Clementine's plate. He seemed to light up after that, like he had just received a nice present. He then proceeded to ramble on with her about the food on their plate as if neither of them have either eaten the same meal before. Not only that but they went on about food they’ve tried outside of school, both sharing their dislikes and likes like a bunch of school children. It was pretty nice you did have to admit, Ron and her getting along; it was really something truly unexpected.

And it seemed that Hermione had a lot of thoughts she didn’t share about their interaction too. And you had the temptation to press on the matter, but she was quick to change the subject. “We saw you at the Three broomsticks, y/n, but it seemed you didn’t see us in your hurry. Were you okay?”

Slowly you peel your eyes from your plate to meet her gaze across the table. “Yeah,” you nod, “I was just feeling bad.” You avert Harry’s gaze and clench your fists. “I’m sorry I missed you guys. We should meet there soon.”

“Are you sure?” Harry probed, his hand sliding on top of yours and making your eyes slide to him. “If your brother said something to you…”

“No,” you cut him off, “he didn’t do anything, I wasn’t feeling good so I left.”

“Well he seemed to be upset and in a hurry.” Harry continued, making your hand stiffen under his and for your eyes to leave his again. “Are—”

“Harry.” Hermione sharply cut him off, “drop it.”

Said boy swallowed thickly and hesitated but didn’t fret to listen, his hand sliding off yours and returning to his fork before he changed the subject into something much more upsetting. “I feel bad for Katie Bell, she's still in the medical wing. They can’t seem to find a way to wake her up.”

“Katie Bell?” You ask slowly, feeling your eyebrows pinch together and your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “What happened to her?”

“Hexed,” Hermione answered in a mumble. “After she touched something she wasn’t supposed to. A cursed object.”

At the sound of the words that came out of her mouth your whole body freezes and your breath hitches, the familiar stinging feeling fills your haunted and deeply guilt ridden eyes; not like they caught it with your sudden eruption to escape the table. “I don’t feel good, I’ll be back.”

——

“Reparo,” you chant once, elegantly moving your wrist and fingers to produce the spell from your hand and watch the fragmented teacup float up from the floor and slowly connect like pieces to a puzzle.

Only the moment the cracks connected to build the teacup whole, it all crumbled down again, falling to the floor with an echoing crack on the wooden floor. “Shoot,” you whisper before you sit back down and sit in silence to listen to the rain patter on the roof above, feeling a chill run throughout the perimeters of your skin as a cold gust of air blows into the bell tower.

After abruptly leaving the main hall with your heart in the pit of your stomach, you escaped here, you watched the sunset and stars twinkle in the sky until dark clouds invaded the scene. At first you just basked yourself in the silence and torment of your own guilt, watching the sky change, but soon you began to experiment with different variations of mending spells you could use on the broken enchanted teacup; trying to mimic fixing the vanishing cabinet. But just like that object, failing to fix the teacup.

Not like failing hundreds of times stopped neither Draco or you, you both still continued trying to find a way to fix the cabinet even outside the help of Borgin. Fixing this teacup was an example of that.

So you give your best efforts again, opening your hand again and in your head saying a different variation of the mending spell, once again watching the teacup fragments float into the air and begin to connect…

“Fancing a tea party?” You hear a voice ask from the stairs, the sudden sound breaking through the room making you jump and drop your concentration on your spell, ending with the teacup shattering into smaller pieces on the wooden floor. You swear under your breath before looking to where the voice had come from to see Harry’s deep blue eyes peeking over the wooden floor.

“Not anymore,” you groan as you turn back to the mess on the floor and hear Harry slowly make his way across from you, admiring the rain drops crashing onto the roofs outside that created a soothing melody before he sat down to face you. “How did you know I was here?”

You lift your eyes from what you were cleaning on the floor and notice Harry hesitate, a mischievous smirk pulling on his lips before he answers. “I just….made a lucky guess.”

You scoff and nod slowly, “well alright. What a lucky guess then,” you smirk, leaning over to collect the leftover pieces by his feet, feeling his fingers brush yours as he helps you clean up the pieces. “Thank you.”

“What were you doing?” He finally asks after you take the pieces from his hand.

“Uh,” you hum as you put the teacup away. “I’m practicing mending spells, the known ones, the more unknown and some I have tried to make myself.” You beam up at him and sit up straight to finally meet his gaze.

“Really?” He quirks a brow, “what for?”

You shrug, “practice. If I want to be an auror, I need to practice to be the best. Or try to anyway.”

His eyes roam on your face and he doesn’t respond to the comment you had just shared, instead he changes to what you were dreading. “Are you feeling better? You left in a hurry and never came back. You missed Clementine and Ron’s food competition.”

You snort. “Well maybe I was better off missing it,” you snicker, “who would’ve known they’d get along.”

“Right,” Harry agrees, “especially because Ron is so against Slytherins.”

You laugh softly and hope he'd drop it, but you should have known better.

“But really are you okay?

“Yeah,” you nod, dropping your gaze to your finger tracing circles on the wooden floor. “I’m...fine.” You sigh and lift your gaze to look at him and finish with your assuring comment. “You’re here so I’m better.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly before he blinks to try to act casual even if a faint blush grew on his cheeks. “Glad to hear that,” he continues whilst he scratches the back of his head and scoots in closer. “You had me worried.”

A soft smile spreads on your features and you move to be at his side instead, feeling his arm instantly loop around your shoulders to pull you closer to his side.

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest but you try to ignore it to keep yourself collected. Even if the next words just clenched your stomach and quickened your heartbeat. “Thank you for coming to look for me...thank you also for being my friend regardless of who my family is.”

Harry shifts and you could feel his stare on you before he parted his lips to answer you. “You've always been kind, there's no reason for me to treat you any other way. You’re not like your family.”

The smile you had painted on your features slowly drops and your face turns more serious, the beating of your heart beginning to race for a completely different reason this time. Guilt once again resurfaces and the question that had been pestering your mind comes out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Regardless of what he had just said. “Do you think I’m an evil person?”

Harry parts away from your side far enough so he could see your face, so he could show you that he was being genuine. “No. I don’t. Not even a bit.”

Your lip quivers and your voice cracks. “Even if my father is a death eater? Even if he tried to kill you?”

“You’re not your father,” Harry assures you, his eyes piercing into yours as he made his statement clear to only you. Even if you still doubted yourself and his answer.

“Even if I turned on you that day in the ministry of magic?”

“Did you mean to?” He queries.

You shake your head, “no. I didn’t.”

“Then no,” he clarifies, as he grabs your hands and secures them in his hold. “I think your choices were justified and I know that if I were in your shoes I would've done the same.”

“No,” you mutter, “you wouldn't have because you’ve got a good heart Harry, you would've done the right thing.”

“If my family were alive I would have done the same,” he reveals, his eyes blinking away for a few seconds as a sad expression flickers in his eyes—“I know you love your family, y/n, I know that’s why you make the choices you do, I know that even if your family is on the wrong side, they love you. I know that’s why you make the choices you do. Anyone would too.”

His words hit you like a blade to the flesh, they hurt and stung. Every meaning behind it was genuine and sweet, you could feel it, see it in the depths of his eyes. And that wounded you more, it shook you to your very core. You tried to fight the need to cry and say the truth about everything. You ached to tell him the truth about the brand on your arm and how Voldemort frightened you, how he hurt you that day you returned from the ministry of magic.

But you didn’t say anything, even if your throat burned to spill the words trapped within you. It was better to keep things a secret. In many ways it felt good not saying the truth, it made you feel normal and not like some monster, nor an enemy he hated.

Harry made you feel safe. Which is why you kept being at his side, kept talking to him. He had a way to make you feel like you weren’t the monster whispered about in every corner, he made you happy in this gloomy war. Everything felt better with him, which is why you were selfish and continued by his side.

“Could you,” you begin in a whisper, flickering your eyes behind his shoulder to watch the silver raindrops pour down on the roofs outside. “Forgive an evil person?” You continue unsurely, blinking to meet his intent gaze.

Harry sighs but doesn’t hesitate, “I guess it depends, doesn’t it?”

It may be too on the nose, or he may not catch it at all, but you had to say it. You needed to know. “If they had no choice but to be that way.”

“Then yes,” Harry answers confidently, softening his gaze and holding onto your hand tighter until you threw your hands around him and pulled him in for an embrace, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck and balling the material of his shirt under your hands.

Said boy returned your embrace and stroked your back, leaning his head on yours and staying put until you chose to pull away. Albeit you didn’t part away, you only turned around and sat in between his legs to enjoy his company a bit longer.

“Can I show you something?” Harry later asks, breaking the silence.

“Sure,” you nod, feeling his hand dig into his pocket to pull out a potions book that he showed you the moment he swung his arm around you. “Your potions book?”

“No, no...well yes, but just read what’s inside.”

You scoff but take his book nonetheless, opening it and flipping through the pages to notice all the pages were littered with notes. “Wow,” you gasp, “Harry when did you—” you cut yourself off as your eyes land on a page that had a note that read, “property of the Halfblood Prince.” It makes you smile and tilt your head up to look at Harry’s chin until he looks down to look at you. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

Harry doesn’t understand at first, his eyebrows pinch together and his eyes narrow in utter and innocent confusion. “What?” He stammers, “what do you mean?”

“Look,” you smile, “it’s a clever name. It’s cool, it’s nice. But just give me some time to call you that okay?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he instantly exclaims out, “what? What no! It’s not me.”

“Oh,” you sigh in relief, continuing to laugh and look down at the book. “Good, great. You had me worried for a second.”

“Did you really think I would call myself that?”

You shrug, “who am I to judge? I mean you’re the chosen one, yeah? Maybe you wanted a different alias to match with that title, I don’t know.”

Harry laughs, making you grin whilst you felt his whole shake as he did so. “Well then, who is the Halfblood prince?”

Harry shrugs, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

——

Today was an exciting day because Slytherin was going to play against Gryffindor in quidditch. Every student anticipated today’s match because of the known rivalry Gryffindors and Slytherins have. Students cheered for the players as they walked inside the brightly decorated great hall for breakfast, while others booed (i.a. Slytherin students) when Gryffindor students walked in.

Since you were a Slytherin and had friends in the Gryffindor team, you represented both teams naturally, wearing a nice uniform that matched Clementines, since she wanted to represent both teams for her brother and her friends too.

“Good morning my friends,” Clementine smiled sweetly at Harry and Hermione as you both sat down across from them on the Gryffindor table.

“Good morning girls,” Hermione responded in the same happy energy with a smile that matched yours, her eyes only briefly pulling away from her newspaper.

“Excited for today?” You question as you look at Harry.

Said boy nods after taking a bite of his breakfast. “Should be exciting.” His eyes roam your uniform and he smiles brightly, “what are you wearing?”

You look down at your clothes and then look up to Harry and Hermione both examining your and Clementine's outfit alike. “Since we’re cheering for both teams, Clementine made us both matching uniforms.”

Said girl nods and grins, “pretty smart, yeah?”

“Very,” Hermione agrees, her eyes going to the green and red paint on your cheeks that Clementine practically forced you down to put on. “It’s cute, you made it all yourself?”

“Mhmm,” Clementine nods, “I make some of my other clothes, but it’s just a hobby for now though.”

“Well it is pretty smart,” Harry finally adds, his eyes going to the doors to watch as Ron walked in with a long gloomy face painted on his features. The sight of him however making Clementine shoot Hermione a smirk before the Weasley boy dropped on the seat beside you.

Ron’s eyes dropped on his meal and for the first time since you’ve had meals next to him, he wasn’t frantically digging in like it was his first meal in ages. Instead he looked up to his two best friends in front of him and looked to Clementine to ask, “So how was it then?”

“How was what?” Hermione queried as she put the newspaper down.

“Your dinner party?” He clarified in a louder voice.

“Oh right,” you interject as you take a sip of your drink, “I forgot you guys had that.”

“It was pretty boring actually,” Hermione revealed before Clementine snickered and cut her off, eyeing the red head boy beside her.

“Although I think Hermione enjoyed desert.” Clementine glances at said brunette before her and Harry share a mischievous smile. “It was quite savory and eye-catching, wasn't it Harry?”

You glance at Harry and see him just nod before Ron and you share a confused look, for the first time looking eye to eye and not shooting daggers at one another. Needless to say before either of you could ask what the duo meant, Hermione was quick to change the subject. “Slugghorn is having Christmas too, you know. And we’re meant to bring someone,” she finishes as she sets her article down and looks at Ron.

“I expect you’ll be bringing Mclaggen.” Ron points out in an accusatory tone. “He’s in the slug club isn’t he?”

“Actually I was going to ask you.” Hermione surprisingly reveals, making you choke on your food just for a bit before you drank more of your drink and tried not to smile like an excited child.

“Remember to chew your food, Malfoy,” Clementine discreetly snickered. You rose your cup her way and just chugged it before a sweet blond came skipping behind Ron, shooting you a rather scary glare.

“Good luck today Ron. I know you’ll be brilliant,” she finished in a whisper, walking off just like how she had arrived. The whole interaction however made Clementine, Hermione and you share a look, made you remember that she was the same girl from the stands when they had tryouts.

“Oh wow, congratulations Ron, you have fans,” you pat him on the back, making him wince and take one last look at the blond at the end of the room before he turned back to Harry and leaned in.

“I’m resigning,” he panicked, “after today’s match, Mclaggen can have my spot.”

“Have it your way,” Harry said as he reached his hand over to slide Ron his cup. “Juice?”

“Sure.” Ron said glumly.

“Hello everyone,” a soft, higher pitched voice greets beside Clementine. When you look over you see Luna dressed in a lion costume facing your group. “You look dreadful, Ron.” Her eyes then drift to Harry, “is that why you put something in his cup? Is it a tonic?”

All eyes fall on Harry to wait for a response, but all you recieve is just ignorance from Harry as he puts a flask away, only aggravating Hermione and making you smirk down at your food as she was quick to protest. “Liquid luck. Don’t drink it Ron!”

Ignoring her completely, Ron raises the cup to his lips and doesn’t hesitate to chug the whole drink and look at her in a much brighter manner.

“You could be expelled for that.” Hermione argued to Harry, but received nothing but ignorance again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ron grins and begins to get off from his seat. “Come on, Harry. We’ve got a game to win.”

Both boys cheerfully part away from the table and walk out of the great hall, letting you call after Harry as he did so. “Good luck!”

He looks back and shoots you a smile before Ron and him disappear out of the hall, letting Clementine add a sly comment. “It’s no wonder you and Potter get along so well.”

You only smile before looking out the window and admiring the falling snow.

——

The falling snow thickened as the game played out, it seemed to match the aggressive competition on the field as it poured down onto the earth, making the air bitter but tolerable since everyone’s bodies were pumped with excitement as everyone cheered for the great match. As you let yourself get swept away and for once forget what you were facing outside the field, the reason why Draco hadn’t joined the team this year.

Like the crowd you cheered, clapped and jumped as scores were made, or swift moves were shown off. You watched the players soar in the sky; their feces red from the icy air that hit their faces as they zigzagged across the field to block and make scores. More intently you watched Harry on the field with a cheerful expression on your face, yet also watched with your heart on your sleeve when he would get hit or be disappointed because he couldn’t find the snitch. Your stomach churned when he would make steep dives, but regardless you cheered for him proudly, letting your own cheers soar in the sky so he could hear you.

Needless to say though, Ron was the one that took you by surprise if you had to be honest, with his quick saves that he made at points with the tip of his fingers. He carried a smile on his face now, a much happier look than the uneasy one he had plastered for breakfast. He also let himself get swept away and seemed to be cocky, and you had an idea why. Not only because students started to cheer “Ron is our King,” but because of the drink that Harry gave him that was filled with nothing but pure encouragement and nothing else. But for the sake of Ron’s confidence Harry let him believe so.

Anyhow the colors of your uniform would change from Red to Green as you cheered for both sides. Or really when you just cheered for Blaise on the Slytherin team. That color changing stopped albeit when you watched Harper from the Slytherin team collide into Harry before he sped off after the Snitch—“I think Harper of Slytherin seen the snitch!” Zacharious Smith shouted through the megaphone. “Yes he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!”

Not before long, after Harry appeared to be contemplating, he flew up into the sky, following after Harper. Literally causing you to stand on the tip of your toes, with your hand shielding your eyes to watch the bright white sky for Harry and Harper who both raced to catch the snitch. And since it was so high in the sky, if they had shared comments to one another, everyone would be none the wiser since their voices didn’t carry down, all you had to go on was the heart wrenching anticipation as Harper had the snitch just inches away from the snitch, but missed it, or let it pass as he did a double take on Harry who passed him by swiftly.

There were faces expressed, but again nothing was clear with them so high in the sky, all you could do was clutch onto Hermione and Clementine as you all watched Harry dive down, not giving anything away as he was finally at a good view in the field. Not until a few seconds later where he grinned briefly and threw his fist into the sky to show off the golden snitch to the crowd; making it end instantly with the sound of the whistle and causing the crowd to erupt in an excited cheer.

You also clapped and cheered at the top of your lungs, feeling Clemtines arm wrap around you to pull Hermione and you in for a happy embrace. And of course without a moment to spare, and while the Gryffindor players were cheering she pulled Hermione and you down to the field where most students ran down to as well to personally congratulate the team.

However, before you could reach Harry, Clementine and you stop when you catch Blaise walking to the dressing rooms—“you did well, Blaise! I’m proud of you!” Clementine complemented her brother as she threw her arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he whispered with his head hung low.

“Yeah,” you added, “you were great, that goal before halftime was very impressive!”

His eyes fly up to you and he nods, “thank you, y/n.” Blaises eyes linger on you for a second longer before he fully looks at his sister. “Cheering for opposing teams now, are we?” He shoves her arm off him and all she does is smile with pride.

“Yes, I have friends on the Gryffindor who I want to support, don’t be jealous now because I cheered for you too.”

Blaise scoffs and then looks at you again. “You should’ve joined the team, Draco says you're a good chaser. Could’ve used you out there now with your brother off.”

You wave your hand to brush his comment off. “Draco is just exaggerating, plus I play just for fun.”

“Well I think she’s better off in the stands. Wouldn’t want them hitting her pretty face,” Clementine teases.

“I’d like to see them try,” Blaise throws out before he walks off and leaves the both of you behind.

Clementine falls silent, her smile falling as she stays frozen to her spot for a brief moment and just watches her brother walk off and then just stares at his footprints on the snow covered ground. Unlike you on the other hand who finally spins around on your heels to run to Harry, maneuvering through the excited crowd of students until you pushed yourself to the middle and saw them cheering Ron and him on.

“Harry!” You call out, instantly stealing his attention and having him turn around to face you and smile wider. At the sight you run the final steps towards him and throw your arms around his neck, feeling his arms secure around you before you slid your hands to cheeks to pull him in for a short lingering kiss that had some students whooping and cheering louder for him.

Harry was caught by surprise but he didn’t pull away, he enjoyed the heart racing moment like you did, you let yourself get swept off in the moment, not caring who saw your daring actions, not caring what they’d say after. All you cared about was Harry and your kiss, how your heart felt like it was going to tear off your chest with how fast it was thumping, or how utterly happy you felt with him by your side.

All you cared about was the last happy moments before the inevitable would happen that would change everything.

.

.

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Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence @ilovespideyyy @m3ssytrash @hogwarts-babe-blog , @yodaboo @rafeyybabyy

[shoutaaizawas]

↳  ❝burn❞ dabi x fem!reader → part VI

summary: touya todoroki, your childhood friend was dead or so you thought. with touya in front of you all you want is answers word count: 2.4k tags/warnings: angst, dabi pov a/n: alright finally a new chapter in celebration of some manga happenings. this part is in dabi’s perspective, enjoy my attempt at making sense of all of this. masterlist

part V part V part VII

“T-Touya?” You stuttered out, eyes wide in realization. Dabi internally cursed. He should have known getting so close to you would end this way but he always did love playing with fire.

He reasoned he couldn’t leave you to die, bleeding out on the street but deep down he knew your wounds weren’t fatal. Seeing you made something churn in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I don’t know a Touya.” He tried to play it off as he pulled out a wipe from your first aid kit to disinfect your wounds.

“Don’t lie to me.” You said, tone raw, tears welling up in your eyes cause a lump in his throat he didn’t like. “Don’t lie to me more than you already have.”

What were you supposed to tell your childhood best friend? The girl that you loved. That you still loved. Oh, sorry I actually didn’t die. I was pulled away by a villain and his offer sounded better than sticking around and being a hero?

How were you supposed to tell the person you cared for more than anything that they weren’t enough? It made him sick. He hated himself for it. You had been nothing but the perfect friend. You were there for him through everything at any cost to yourself. You gave your time, your home, your friendship, all of your effort. It meant so much to him, you had saved him from himself, and yet he still was consumed by his hate for his father.

Sometimes he wished he said no and went home, went back to you. Maybe things would have been different, granted the villain most likely would have just killed him. His hatred had been deep and he was offered power and the means to get back at his father if he went to the villain's side.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong but he was past being a good man. The memory seemed so far away now. That night had been so long ago.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking away. He couldn’t handle the look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry?” You repeated you sounded so hurt. Torn apart. “You fake your death, become a villain and all you have to say is I’m sorry?!”

He could hear rain begin to pour down outside, thunder cracking overhead from your quirk. He was familiar with how it flared up with your emotions. It had never been because of him.

You tried to stand up but let out a hiss of pain from the stab wound. He grabbed you pushing you back down.

“Just sit down, please.” He said as he went back to tend to your wound. Scarred hands gentle against your skin. “I don’t know what to say.”

“All I ever wanted was for you to be alive.” You said quietly. Before you sounded angry but now you just sounded broken. “I spent everyday mourning you. Losing you changed me but this whole time you’ve been alive and you just let me think you were dead.”

“What was I supposed to say?” His rough voice soft. “Sorry, I have to fake my death and I’m going to become a villain.”

“I would have preferred that.” Your eyes were on his hands that were now stitching up the wound, following the movement. “Anything would have been better than thinking you were dead. I’ve blamed myself for that night every day of my life. I thought what if I said something different, what if I stopped you-”

Tears finally broke in your eyes, running down your cheeks. A sob escaped your lips and his heart broke.

This was his fault, he did this.

He should have stood up and left and never looked back. That’s what he would have done if he was committed to being a villain, to ending Enji Todoroki. If he wanted to leave his weakness behind. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave you again after he hurt you so badly in the first place.

Dabi sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms and into his chest.

"I'm sorry, raindrop." He said. "I'm so sorry. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to do. It's my biggest regret." His hand brushed over your hair soothingly.

"I've missed you so much." You said against his chest, tears still flowing freely. "All I ever wanted was you back."

“I missed you.” He said quietly. He knew this was bad, he shouldn’t be here but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t bring himself to leave right now and he knew this would only make things worse when he had to leave.

“What happened?” You asked as you looked up at him with your eyes red from crying.

“I didn’t die. Obviously.” He said as he rolled his eyes at his choice of words. “When the building collapsed it didn’t all the way. Where I was, with that villain, he kept it from crushing us. He offered me another life. He offered me revenge against my father.”

The silence felt bad. He would have much preferred you yelling at him, calling him a bad friend, anything other than this quiet. He knew you well and even if time passed he knew you were blaming yourself.

“I should have known.” You said your voice barely above a whisper. “I should have done something, I should have looked harder.” Your voice became more upset.

“No, it was my fault.” He said. It made his stomach churn with guilt to hear you blame yourself.

“I should have done something, I should have been a better friend. I-”

“Don’t say that.” He said in a low voice, his hand grabbing your cheek and pulling your gaze to his. “I’m the monster, I’m the one who should be blamed. I had the best friend I could ask for and I still decided to leave. There is nothing you could have done. The hate in me for my father was so strong, nothing could have stopped it.”

You stared at him in silence, processing his words. There was only so much he could say, only so much he could apologize for. He was still a villain and what was an apology without a change in one’s actions. As much as the idea of running away with her and never looking back sounded appealing he needed to get his revenge on Enji Todoroki and he would do so even if he died in the process.

“Here, you should lay down in your bed. You need to rest.” He said helping you up and moving you towards your bedroom. “Change into something comfortable, I know how much you hate the thought of touching your bed in anything other than bedclothes.” He teased. Even after all this time, he couldn’t forget her quirks. He moved to give her privacy but she caught him by the wrist.

“Don’t go.” You said before a pause. “I mean, don’t leave while I change. Like the house, not my room.”

He had to hide his laugh at how flustered you looked.

“I’ll be right outside.” He said. After a few moments, the door opened and he returned into the room.

He pulled the covers back and helped you into the bed. He sat down facing you.

“You need to leave the country, hide far away from the commission. They won’t stop until you’re no longer a threat to them.” He said. You needed to get away, far from everyone who could hurt you. He couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you.

“They can’t get away with what they’re hiding.” You said. “What kind of hero would I be if I could put an end to this and I just ran away to protect myself?”

“You’d be alive.” He said. “There’s no way you can stop them, not the way you would want to do it. The only way to stop them is to burn hero society to the ground and I doubt you want to join the League.”

“That’s not true, there are always more options you just have to fight for them.” You said. Stubborn as always. He sighed. “We could stop this, together the right way. Touya, I know you wanted to be a hero, you wanted to save people, to help them. We could stop this broken system, we could fix it.”

“All I want is for my father to suffer and to die.” He said in a low voice.

“Even if innocent people get hurt in the process?” You questioned. “You know what it’s like to be hurt, to suffer at the hands of other people, and be powerless to stop it. Don’t you want to help people like that more than kill Enji? He should pay for what he’s done but killing him won’t erase the damage he’s already done. It’ll only make it worst for you.”

Dabi paused.

“It’s not that simple. You can’t just fix hero society. The problems run too deep, it needs to burn.” He said. “You need to leave the country, get away from them, and get out of the way of the League. Sleep on it, maybe then you’ll realize there’s only one way to keep yourself alive.”

He knew from the look in your eyes you wouldn’t let it go. He hoped you would feel different in the morning but he knew your sense of justice would never let this go.

“It’s not worth it.” For a moment he was confused before realizing you weren’t talking about yourself anymore. “Enji isn’t worth ruining your life, hurting yourself.” Your hand took his, thumb brushing over his burns. How were you not disgusted by them?

“He deserves it.” He replied.

“But you don’t deserve this.” You said, eyes wide as you looked at him. “You deserve so much more. You deserve to be happy, to feel safe, and cared for.”

“People like me don’t deserve those things.” He said. The last thing he deserved was a kind life. Not after everything he had done.

“You do!” You let out a huff, your eyebrows furrowing. “Life has been so cruel to you, it doesn’t have to stay that way. Things can get better, life can be kind to you.”

“I can’t turn back now, I chose this path. There’s no hope left for me.”

“Touya, please.” You begged, your hand gripping his. “You said I should leave and not look back. I’ll do it if you go with me. We can leave together, we can be safe. Happy. Like we always should have.”

Dabi stared at you, eyes focused on your expression. You were serious. He knew how hard it would be to walk away, to leave even though you were convinced that you could fix hero society. The idea was optimistic, idealistic even.

For a moment it was easy to indulge, to dream. Imagining a life with you far away from all of the horrible things that the both of you had been through. A small house far away from everyone or maybe you could travel the world together. Whatever it would be it would be peaceful.

Dabi didn’t want to run away together as friends though, he wanted to confess. Tell you how he felt about you, how he always felt. He could remember his dreams when the both of you were young, marrying you, building your own happy family. Even if that family was just the two of you. But how could you feel like that about him especially after everything he had done. How could you ever love him back? Even if you did he would only be dragging you down. You deserved to be happy with someone who could keep you safe not make things worse.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said.

“You could,” You said, your hands cupping his cheeks. The contact of your cool skin against his warm skin sent a shiver down his spine. “I know you think you can’t but you could walk away from it all right now. Please, Touya.”

If he thought his heart was already broken now it certainly was. How could you want to run away with him after he faked his death? What kind of friend was he that he didn’t tell you? You were the only person who had ever been there for him. He wanted to see you happy but he knew he could never be the one to do it. Walking away was the best thing to do for you.

“You need to get rest.” He said. “We’ll talk about this later.” That was a lie.

“You’re going to stay?” Your eyebrows drawn up and the tears still in your eyes pulled at his heartstrings.

“Yes.” That was another lie.

“Can you sit here with me till I fall asleep?” You asked. Dabi moved, sitting beside you against the headboard. You laid down, pulling the covers up as you looked at him. Hesitantly you reached out taking his hand, your touch so soft. When was the last time someone had touched him without the intent to hurt him? You were probably the last person who had. Your eyes were trained on his hand, fingers ever so gently as they passed over the staples that held his skin together.

Dabi watched as you moved closer to him, nearly pressed against the side of his leg. Without thinking his hand moved to your hair, brushing over it slowly as if it would be the last time. Well, it probably would be the last time.

“I missed you.” You said, hands playing with the hem of his shirt, his jacket discarded earlier at the door.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back. He continued to stroke your hair until your breathing evened. He knew he needed to leave but he wanted to stay longer even if it was just for a moment. He knew that leaving would only hurt you more but nothing good would come from him staying.

After a while he stood, his hands careful to move you without waking you. He stared at you, taking in your features he sighed. He loved you more than anything but it was too late to turn back. He leaned down, his lips meeting your forehead. Relishing in the contact, lingering on your skin.

"I'm sorry, raindrop." He said before he moved to the doorway. As he walked out of your room he steeled himself as he tried not to look back.  

He returned to the living room spotted your desk, there he found paper and a pen. A hint of a smile crossed his face, some things never changed, you always loved cute stationery.

Walking out he knew that this was the last time he would see you like this. Chances were the next time you met things wouldn’t end well.

taglist:  @flowersgirl02 @wesparklebitch @moon-write @strangely-charmed @ibookishqueen @tomomoni @why-so-red @grungy-pansexual @sugarandsoft @pansexual-potterhead @ha-tep @milegonzalez96 @prettyinblack231 @jadepersonaldriscal @nanamichan @multi-madison @e-wwis @itlivesintheanime @angerynonbinary @professionalsimpfor2dboys

[ask-them-bois]

Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 2/3

pt.1

TW: PTSD flashback, attempted mugging

TLDR: Deadscar heads for the desert. A new troll arrives.

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Ishran cinched the strap on his bag and stood, swinging the pack onto his shoulder. He picked up his war hammer, sliding it into its holster between the bag and his back. Finally, he tied up his hair, made sure his campfire was out completely, and set out.

He’d been camped on the outskirts of the city for several nights, but now, mere hours after the meeting with Musrio and the other ancestors, it was time to leave. He made for the trackscuttler station, remembering the Decaying’s directions.

He stepped up onto the platform and looked around; the station was empty, as far as he could tell. No one was even in the ticket booth, the lights all dark. He found an old board that listed the trackscuttlers’ arrival times, but all of them were marked the same way: “Canceled.”

It was abandoned, he realized. Trackscuttlers were still a popular mode of transportation all over Alternia, and he idly wondered what would cause the station to shut down. Perhaps a better one had been built elsewhere.

Regardless, he put his curiosity aside; the inquiry of why a station was powered down was not his mission. Finally, he located a map of the tracks, in a case that stood in the middle of the station. It depicted most of the continent he was currently on, and it was easy to locate the desert; the landmass he resided on only had one, albeit a rather large one.

If Lucina wasn’t there, then he’d have to head overseas. First things first, though- he located the tracks that wound through the desert. There was only one track, and someone had scribbled over part of it in red marker.

Undeterred, Ishran followed the trail to the station he was currently at; it stood to the west of the desert, which meant he had to head east. Satisfied, he turned to survey the tracks by the station. They pointed north and south, but following the northern one would eventually take him the correct way.

A squeak of a shoe behind him was his only warning as a knifepoint was suddenly pressed to his shoulder.

“Give me everything in the bag, geezer, or I’ll gut you like an oink-beast.”

Ishran didn’t move for a moment, before he finally turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

Behind him, their only knife left pressed against the oliveblood’s skin, looking rather gaunt and messy, was none other than Fayroe Fallen.

The young fuchsia’s eyes were bloodshot, their undersides dark from lack of sleep. His fins were wilted, horns bare of jewelry; he’d either hidden them or sold them. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, his clothes worse for wear than ever before.

Outwardly, Ishran didn’t react at first, but his thinkpan was flashing warning lights as wailing sirens went off, unbidden memories whirling through his mind as he stared at those horns.

Pain, pain, pain- shackles, bolts embedded in his wrists, chains beating his back, dragging him like a dog, the coliseum, his hammer, smashing through skin and muscle and bone. Breaking, breaking, scars and bleeding and no rest. Beast and troll crying out, the deafening cheers as his knuckled crumpled bone like faygo cans-

The whirring, chittering, subsonic roar of the drones. His hammer screaming off of carapace, chitinous armor flying across sand, sparks from the contact and then- pain. Naught but pain, struggling to breathe, burning lungs and broken ribs and PAIN-

When he snapped back to himself, Ishran found himself knelt on the prince’s chest, the knife spinning across the floor and his hands on the kid’s throat, teeth bared. Fayroe had his arms up to shield himself, as if expecting a beating.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, please-! I didn’t mean it, please don’t kill me!” The seadweller’s wails suddenly cut through the ringing in his ears. They sounded terrified and desperate, sobs hitching in their chest.

Ishran stared down at the sniveling fuchsia, his hands lax around their neck as he tried to mentally catch up with what just happened.

“Please, I didn’t mean it- I’m j- j- just so h- hungry- I w- wasn’t going to hurt you!” Fayroe continued to babble, covering his face with his arms.

The oliveblood managed to lurch to his feet and stumble away. He leaned on the map case with one hand, his blood-pumper hammering in his chest. Adrenaline was screaming through him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t breathe properly, he almost felt sick, but he managed to suck in a shaky breath.

“Who… are… you.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Behind him, the sniveling stopped abruptly.

“Wh- what?”

“You’re Enforcer’s spawn.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his voice shaky but even.

“I’m- I was just- I am-”

“Out with it, boy.” Ishran snapped.

“I was sleeping!” Fayroe shouted, his voice echoing around the empty station.

“… Here?”

“Yeah?”

“… Why?” Ishran wasn’t sure why he was asking. He didn’t even want to know, but the talking was making the buzzing in his skin fade. He turned to face Fayroe again, and saw the young troll had sat up, eyes huge in the gloom.

“Why do you care? Who are you?” They sniffed.

“I do not care. I am Ishran.” Deadscar stated bluntly, “Now answer my question.”

“I don’t take orders from lowbloods.”

Ishran’s brows settled low, and he turned away. “Fine.” He headed for the tracks.

“Wh- you’re leaving?”

“I have places to be.”

He heard Fayroe scramble to their feet. “Wait!”

He stopped.

“… Where… where are you going?” The fuchsia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Why should I tell you?”

“W- well- because you’re the Deadscar, aren’t you? Fath- Godric, talked about you a lot.” Oh, Ishran didn’t like that. There was a beat of silence, in which Fayroe was probably expecting a response. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “Take me with you.”

“I do not take orders from highbloods.”

“Wh- yes you do! You have to!”

“No.”

“But- but- but that’s-”

Ishran turned around to look at the descendant again. “I take orders from no one, boy, especially not the successor of the Enforcer.”

At that, Fayroe laughed bitterly, catching him off guard. “Successor? Not anymore, I’m not. Descendant, sure, but no successor.” He scuffed one foot against the platform. “… I got chased out. That’s why I was sleeping in here.”

They were interrupted as their stomach let out a feeble, yet loud gurgle, and they put their hand on their stomach. Their fins, somehow, drooped further.

“You are hungry.”

“I don’t have any money. I’ve got nothing but my hop-beast.” Fayroe huffed, shuffling his feet some more. “Godric saw to that.” Ishran looked around for said hop-beast, but Fayroe shook his head. “I left her with… erm… a friend. Or I guess, a former acquaintance, an engineer, who I made take her for a while. But she’s all I got.”

“Then we understand each other.” Ishran said, unmoved. Fayroe looked up, puzzled. “All that you see on my back is all I have anymore.”

“Oh…” An awkward pause fell. Tired of lingering, Ishran turned away again. “Wait- where are you going?” Fayroe called.

“To the desert.”

“Take me with you!”

Sighing, Ishran turned back once more. “Why?”

“I… I can be useful! I’m good at this survival stuff- I’ve lasted this long! It’s been…” They quickly ticked on their fingers, “Five weeks? Six?” They frowned, before looking back up. “Regardless, I can rough it, same as you, but I’m not… as good. Teach me, please! I’ll listen to everything you say, I’ll be helpful, I’ll-”

Ishran wasn’t really listening past that, memories once more overwhelming him. For a moment, he didn’t see a fuchsiablood, but a lime, standing before him and demanding to be taught how to use a bow. He’d been alone on the road for so long- his blood-pumper twinged with the thought of being on the move again with Amadri.

“- and, okay, I don’t know how to start a fire, or cook, or clean, but I’m willing to learn! I just don’t want to be alone anymore...” Fayroe’s words cut through the fog again, and the vision of Amadri was gone. “And I swear I won’t-”

“Fine.” Ishran said, making the younger troll stop.

“Huh?”

“You may join me. But you are to listen to my every order. You may be fuchsia, but I am your elder. You will not speak down to me, and I will not punish you for the sins of your father.”

Fayroe blinked at him, before they grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! Yes! You’ve got it, Deadscar!”

Ishran nodded once, and turned away for the final time. “Come, then.”

“Wh- now?”

“Yes, now.”

He kept walking, hopping down from the platform and following the tracks. Behind him, he heard Fayroe scoop up their knife and run after him. “Thank you, thank you, oh you won’t regret this, I swear!”

Ishran only grunted.

“So where are we going?”

“The desert.”

“Yeah, I know. Why, though?”

“To find someone.”

“Oh. Who?”

“A woman.”

Fayroe sighed, giving up on making conversation. He trailed after Ishran, pouting in silence, as they followed the tracks. . . . Regret, regret, regret- Irritation buzzed under Ishran’s skin like stinging wasps. It’d been just over a week- nine nights, to be exact- since he’d set out with Fayroe in tow. It’d taken a bit of rearranging on Ishran’s part, and a stop in a town to pick up extra supplies, but they were managing well enough. The oliveblood had even been nice enough to get Fayroe his own sleeping cocoon. His tent was really only meant for one, but Fayroe was small enough that they could squeeze in it together to sleep.

They woke before the sun had fully set each night, ate, and set out, stopping for only fifteen minutes every four hours for water and a small snack. When dawn approached, Ishran found a place to set up camp. They had dinner, then went to bed.

All of that would have been fine, had he had Amadri with him. But-

Ishran was not a religious man, yet he was just about ready to pray for mercy. Fayroe did not. Stop. Talking. Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long, but what was usually blissful silence was filled with chatter about anything. By the end of the third night, Ishran knew Fayroe’s life story, albeit unwillingly and without any prompting.

The complaining, too, grated on his nerves like sandpaper on stone.

“My feet hurt.” Fayroe had whined, three hours into their journey on the first night.

“They will toughen.”

“Can we take a break?” Was asked the second night, after they’d just set out.

“No.”

“I’m thirsty!” was announced mere minutes later.

“Now is not a time for drinking.”

And “How much farther do we have to go?” was a constantly repeated question.

“Far.” was the constantly repeated response.

Over and over, on and on. Ishran was ready to stuff wax into his ears to make it stop; he longed to have his matesprit with him instead- at least her voice was soothing, and not the snotty, whining drivel. When they made camp, he gave Fayroe tasks that either sent him away or forced him to stop talking, just for a reprieve.

On the sixth night, still following the tracks, they made it to the desert. Ishran filled their canteens and refreshed their rations at an outpost before they’d proceeded.

The desert was made up of rust red sand dunes, towering higher than ocean waves in storms.

It took them half an hour to make it over the first dune, before Ishran had an idea and turned around.

Returning to the outpost, he rented a pair of scaly-hoofs; draconic hoof-beasts used for crossing the desert. On the creatures’ backs, they made it over the dunes with ease. The dunes eventually faded behind them, until they were crossing miles of sandy plains.

For the next few nights, they saw little around them, even as they continued to follow the tracks. There was sparse vegetation, and an occasional covered well where they could refill their drinks. An abandoned shack or two where they could camp. Wild lusii avoided them, and Ishran only ever saw them at a distance.

On the ninth night, though, Ishran urged his beast to a stop before a sign.

“Turn back! Forbidden land!” was scrawled on a sheet of metal in curly writing.

Fayroe came to a stop beside him, examining the sign, too.

“What now?” He asked, pulling down his scarf; he’d wrapped it around his face to keep the sand out of his gills and mouth.

“We keep going.”

“But it says-”

“I can read. But we keep going.”

Ishran snapped the reins, and his beast carried on.

The further they went, the more signs they saw, all in the same writing.

“Danger!”

“Turn back!”

“Cursed land ahead!”

“Monsters roam beyond!”

“Unholy beasts dwell yonder!”

Ishran ignored them all, until, at last, they crested a hill and came to stop at the sight before them.

Bleached white by the sun, the teeth gleaming in the moonlight, was a massive, monstrous skeleton. Beyond it, just visible on the horizon, was the twisted and warped remains of a crashed and abandoned trackscuttler, laid across the tracks.

“What the fuck is that?” Fayroe exclaimed as he rode up beside Ishran.

“A beast’s bones.” He replied, before he suddenly remembered the Decaying’s words:

“No water but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. … Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.”

Ishran looked towards the trackscuttler again; from the distance, it was faint, but he could make out the gleam of water. A lake, if he were to guess. An oasis.

“A beast of bone.” He corrected himself, “We are close.”

“We are?” Fayroe repeated, surprised. “Oh, good.”

Ishran urged his beast into motion again, and they descended the hill, approaching the skeleton.

It truly was massive; one of the beast’s claws was four times the size of Ishran himself. He couldn’t be sure what it used to be, but it had a gnarled muzzle full of monstrous teeth, and he counted four eye sockets. Twisted and curled horns protruded from the skull, piercing the sky. To walk from the skull to tail would take a half an hour, at least.

As they were by the skull, though, Ishran stopped again. He looked around at their surroundings; nothing moved, not even the wind. He could see what looked like an outcrop of cliffs and rocks to the south. Looking up, he saw the moons were nearing their peak.

“We’ll stop here.” He decided.

“Already?” Fayroe asked.

“Yes.” Ishran turned and dismounted.

Fayroe had learned by then that he wouldn’t get a lot of explanations for much, so he dismounted, too. They put the tent up in silence, up against the jaw of the skull. After a moment’s deliberation, despite being out in the open, Ishran decided to start a fire.

“What if something sees it?” Fayroe asked uncertainly.

“That’s the idea.” Ishran grunted as he got a meal together and passed the seadweller a canteen. Fayroe had been rather selfish with the water, insisting he needed more due to his aquatic nature. Ishran wasn’t totally sure if that was true, but he was willing to give up a portion of his share if it stopped the whining.

Once camp was set up, they’d eaten, and the beasts were given their due of food and water, Ishran sat down, using the beast’s saddle as a chair on the ground. He pulled his dagger out of his boot, and dug in his bag, pulling out a half-carved figurine of a moth.

He set to work carving, flicking the scraps into the fire.

Fayroe sat on his own saddle, chin in hand, as his knee bounced impatiently.

“Whatcha making?” He asked, just to say something.

“A gift.”

“For who?”

“My partner.”

“You have a partner?”

“Yes.”

“What- what’re they like?”

Ishran paused and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“I dunno. Are they the woman we’re here for?”

“No. She is visiting her morail.”

“Oh.”

Ishran had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He resumed his work in silence.

“I’m bored.” Fayroe announced after two minutes.

“Then find something to do.”

“Like what? We’re in a desert! It’s not like there’s a filmhive out here.”

“Count the teeth in the skull. Go hunting. Brush the sand off the beasts. Take a nap.” Ishran listed without looking up.

Fayroe didn’t want to do any of that. After another minute of silence, they spoke again. “Why are we even stopped? We could keep going, you know.”

“We are where we need to be.”

“But there’s nothing out here!” Fayroe pouted.

“That’s enough!” Ishran finally snapped, setting his knife down and looking up. “I am aware there is nothing, but this is the spot I have been seeking.” He explained, ill-tempered, “Now is as good a time as any to rest, for I do not know what comes next. The beasts are tired, I am tired, and I am working out what to do. But there is no point running ourselves to exhaustion without direction, nor is there a point to whining! If you are bored, make yourself productive!” He snarled the last part, “You do not know what is out here, and our voices will attract unwanted attention. Do you wish to fight wild animals? You can’t even skin a dirt-spud!”

“But the fire would-” Fayroe began meekly.

“Would deter animals unused to the light, but be a beacon, perhaps, to the woman I am looking for! You have no thoughts other than those for yourself, boy, and I am sick of it! I did not force you to come, and if you are going to continue to stay, then you will hold your tongue and wait, same as I am!”

Fayroe had shrunk back so far he’d nearly fallen off his seat. Slowly, he scowled, and sat back up. He dropped his gaze, glowering at his shoes. “You sound like him.” He muttered lowly, ““Sit down and shut up, Fayroe. You don’t understand anything, Fayroe. I’m having you fucking tortured for your own good, Fayroe.””

“Perhaps that is because you never stop talking.” Ishran grouched without meaning to.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve never had someone to talk to!” Fayroe snapped back, just barely managing to keep their voice down.

Ishran opened his mouth, before Fayroe suddenly sat up and twisted to stare into the darkness towards the distant cliff outcrop.

Slowly, they got to their feet, eyes trained towards the south. Ishran paused, too, caught off guard by their sudden change in behavior. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

“Boy, what-”

“Sshh!” Fayroe flapped a hand at him, fin-fronds flaring wide as they leaned forward. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but- do you hear that?”

Ishran paused again and listened, but no sounds other than the fire and the huffing of the beasts came to him. “What do you hear?” He asked.

Fayroe frowned, squinting towards the outcrop. “It’s like… a growl? But constant. A roar? It- look!” He suddenly pointed towards the cliffs.

Ishran fished a pair of farsight-goggles out of his bag and stepped up beside Fayroe, raising them to his eyes. At first, he saw nothing, until he saw the dust plume.

Following it with his eyes, he saw… something, racing towards them. It was dark, and hard to make out, even with the goggles, due to the distance. Whatever it was, it was making a beeline for their camp.

Ishran lowered the goggles.

“Sit down, boy.”

“Wh- shouldn’t we run?”

“No. We will wait for it to come to us.” Ishran returned to his seat, slipping the goggles into his bag.

Fayroe hesitated, but slowly took a seat again.

“What if it’s an enemy?”

“Then it will be dealt with.”

Ishran calmly picked up his dagger and block of wood again, and resumed his work, while Fayroe watched the thing approach.

“Do you have a gun?” He asked after a moment.

“No.”

“Crossbow?”

“I do not use long range weapons.”

“Oh…”

Finally, after fifteen minutes, Ishran could hear the rumbling, too. He decided to break camp and pack up, before he picked up his hammer, bags resting at his feet. Five minutes more, and he got to his feet as the thing roared up to the camp, only to come to a sudden stop.

Now that it was close, Ishran could see the noise had come from an all-terrain buggy, its driver bent low over the handlebars.

The driver in question slowly sat up, pulling goggles up off its eyes.

“Who are ye?” It demanded, dismounting its vehicle, “Thou be on accursed lands and must make leave, posthaste!”

“We could ask you the same thing, weirdo.” Fayroe said haughtily, his hand going for the knife on his belt.

“Stand down, boy.” Ishran ordered. He lowered his hammer himself, squinting at the jadeblood. “What’s your name?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

The jade looked at him, tiny fins twitching. “Mine compatriots called me Cyber, but mine name be Alaric Evrren.” With a flourish of its hand, it bowed low to the oliveblood.

Outwardly, Ishran’s expression did not change. “Do you know a woman named Lucina?”

Alaric stood back up, brushing its hair back with a flick of its wrist. “Aye, be ye seekers of my ancestor?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“We were sent by her husband.”

“We were?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

Both midbloods ignored him.

“Oh, thou speaketh of the great captain? Mine forefather, Faslet?” Alaric nodded slowly, eyes scanning over the two of them. It drew its tongue over its fangs thoughtfully, before it nodded and turned away. “Upon thine word, I trust thou. Follow, and I shall shepherd ye to Lucina.” It mounted its buggy again, slipping its goggles down over its eyes.

Ishran nodded and turned, heading for the scaly-hoofs.

“It’s a funny little weirdo, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Fayroe asked quietly as they sidled up to Ishran.

“They will take us to Lucina.”

“Yeah… who is that?”

“The woman I am seeking.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once the beasts were saddled, the fire kicked out, and Ishran and Fayroe on their mounts, Alaric revved their buggy to life. It waved and shouted something, before it was off, tearing across the sand.

Ishran and Fayroe snapped the reins and gave chase.

The beasts managed to keep up with the buggy as they made for the cliff outcrop in the distance, the roar of the buggy’s engine drowning the night in noise.

Finally, Alaric swerved to a stop before the cliffs, and the other two slowed their mounts.

Cutting the engine, Alaric leaned on the handlebars and pointed. They’d come to a stop before a yawning cavern opening, one that looked troll-made. It was into the dark cave that the jadeblood pointed.

“Mine foremother lies within.”

Ishran nodded. “Boy,” He addressed Fayroe, “set up camp.”

“Aren’t we going in?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

“No.” Ishran dismounted and grabbed something from his bag, before he walked away.

“So… what’s with the muzzle?” Ishran heard Fayroe ask as he moved some distance away from the cave.

Putting his back to the other two, he turned his attention to palmhusk he’d procured. It was definitely nothing fancy- an older version he’d gotten for cheap at a pawn shop- but it still worked, and was durable for travel. Thumbing through the menus, he raised it to his ear as it rang.

“Aye?” The trembling voice of Ruthless picked up after a few rings.

“We found her.”

[Everyone please welcome Alaric Evrren! (Link to bio)]

[ficforce]

Strong For Me

Sagamiya Konro x Reader

SFW

Set during the great fire in Asakusa

Established relationship

Watching Company 4 roll in on their metal vehicles and dousing the last of the dying flames filled Y/N with more anger than she thought she could bear. They came in like triumphant heroes but where had they been when the fires were roaring and their people were turning into Infernals?

Nowhere.

It had been the Hikeshi running through the town fighting fires and saving anyone they could, it had been regular people throwing endless buckets of water in an effort to save their houses and many of the people who had an ability to control flames were exhausted. She shoved past one of the Fire soldiers as they tried to direct her elsewhere, drawing Konro’s sword on them when the man tried to grab her - she was quickly left alone.

The sword had been given to her before Konro ran off with Benimaru; he had told her to use it to protect herself whilst he was away from her side. The weapon was one of the most precious things he owned and by giving it to her he was telling her he was going to come back.

Only… he hadn’t come back to her yet.

Y/N stepped out of the way as the Captain of the 4th Company headed up the street, glaring at him as he passed but then she heard Benimaru’s voice from a short distance away, “Beni!” Running hurt her possibly broken ribs but it was hardly on her mind as she spotted Konro propped up against a building, “Konro! Konro you’re o… okay?” Dropping to her knees on the side Benimaru wasn’t she reached out to cup his face, turning it a little to properly look at the slash across his nose, “That’s gonna scar but you’ll still be handsome.” Konro tried to smile at her gentle teasing though it came out as more of a grimace and Y/N finally seemed to notice that his skin was smoking.

Her eyes widened once they saw the burnt and still burning flesh over his shoulders, his arms and his neck, “This…” it wasn’t a normal burn, it wasn’t even the kind of burn that someone with fire resistance skin could get in extreme cases - it was burning from the inside out. Inside some of the wounds, she could see what looked like embers and she realised what he had done. “Konro… you… you didn’t have to go so damn hard! What did you do?!” Hearing her voice too loud and almost shrill she covered it with her hands and tried to fight off her tears. Through her blurry vision, she saw him try to lift his arms to hold her but it seemed it was either too painful or they were too damaged.

“I’ll be okay, Y/N.” Konro grit his teeth as a spike of pain shot through his shoulders again, “Just be strong for me.”

x - -

The town was abnormally quiet, even though two days had passed they were still finding their dead and trying to figure out who combusted and who died from some other cause. Asakusa had always been quick to pick itself up and go about its day but this was something different. The fires had destroyed most of the buildings, the Guardhouse was overfull with the homeless even though everyone with a house left were taking in as many as they could - many were frightened that another Demon might appear and Konro wouldn’t be able to beat it this time.

She had been handing out food and blankets to those who needed them when she came across the massive crater Konro had scarred into the land.

It was terrifying to see.

Not only because of what a full-powered Akatsuki could do. Not because it marked where something as catastrophic as a Demon had appeared either. It was where Konro had been willing to sacrifice everything for his Town. Her lover had gone as far as knocking Benimaru out in order to take the Demon on - not because Benimaru couldn’t have handled it but because Konro wanted to make sure someone who loved and could fight for Asakusa as much as him survived.

She could have lost him completely…

Konro had led as many able-bodied men as he could with Benimaru to protect what they could. The crater in front of her didn’t feel real, it felt like if she stepped forward it would dissipate like some sort of mirage. “Y/N,” a thick coat was wrapped around her shoulders as Benimaru came to stand next to her, worry laced his voice as he forced the woman to stand back a little. “You’ll fall in.” He didn’t say anything more as she pulled the coat closer to her body and pressed her face into the material, it was Konro’s coat, it smelt of him - like he did before all of the medicines and charred skin. “I’ll take care of giving the rest of this stuff out. Konro’s asking for you…” What he actually meant was that Konro was in agony and was calling for her.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes were a little wider than usual and she was trying to smile at him in the same reassuring way she always did. Her hand reached for his hair and she brushed it back a little, stroking her thumb over the bruise on his temple, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I should have done more. I should have been stronger.”

“Y/N…” Konro whispered and tried to reach for her face, wanting to wipe away the stray tear she was trying to ignore - it was agony. His jaw tensed as he tried to clamp down on the pained sounds wanting to escape as he tried to force shredded muscle to work.

Y/N shook her head, “He buried you, Beni… he would have broken your arms and legs if it would have protected you. There was nothing you could have done.” The young man was never going to forgive himself for not being there for Konro, she could see he was already blaming himself and wouldn’t listen to reason. Konro had explained to her how Benimaru had been at his limit, how he had been overheating and for him to be shoved aside so easily further proved that Konro had done right by him.

“…He’s calling for you, Y/N.” He took the supplied from her and headed for the next household that needed help.

Konro appeared to be asleep when she entered the room, the doctor glanced her way before hanging up another IV of who knew what inside, she didn’t care as long as it helped him. There was a large bowl with pinkish water and bloodied bandages soaking inside, shredded packets of medical patches, discarded cooling blankets designed for someone overheating… the room was a mess. The medical rooms were already taken up by the injured so they had moved him to his own room to recover and avoid infections.

“How’s he doing?”

“We’re sedating him as much as we can without killing him, Y/N.” The doctor sighed and began gathering the supplies they’d strewn out of the floor, “It’s tephrosis, his skin is carbonising and the lack of oxygen to his muscles has caused tears all over, he’s got limited mobility in his arms and the muscle around his shoulder blades will take months to heal… if it does.”

Neither spoke as Y/N let that sink in. If Konro couldn’t fight anymore… Strong men were respected in Asakusa, no one challenged the authority of the Hikeshi because it was led by the strongest. Technically, Benimaru was the strongest in a fight but he didn’t have the confidence to lead - someone could easily chip away at his resolve or Benimaru could lose his temper and go too far.

“It’ll heal, he’s stubborn.” The doctor gave her a weak smile and Y/N bit the tip of her tongue, waiting for more bad news.

“His lungs are shot.” There was no gentle way to tell her, “He’s going to be more prone to pneumonia and it won’t be easy for him to fight through it. If he uses his ability excessively not only will it be excruciatingly painful but it will impact his breathing and… the tephrosis could spread.”

It was difficult to imagine what Konro was going through physically and mentally. He wouldn’t regret risking it all for Asakusa but she knew this would be difficult for him. Y/N stood in the doorway with her hands balled up in the material of Konro’s coat, she took in his prone form as if that was going to make her understand how to deal with this. There were cooling blankets beneath him to help fight the inferno beneath his skin, he was pale and even from across the room she could see his skin was clammy as the heat seemed to pour out of him - when was it going to burn itself out?

They hadn’t bandaged his wounds yet, hoping that the air would aid in the healing.

As silently as she could she made her way to his side after the doctor had left, she knelt beside him and reached out to brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, “Y/N?” She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she saw his eyes flutter open weakly, he looked exhausted and her own eyes watered as she saw how much pain was reflected in his. He was doing his best to hide that from her.

“I’m here, Konro,” Y/N leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “What do you need?” She had never seen him down like this, she had never seen him looking so… weak. He was supposed to be a strong man, he was Asakusa’s protector and now they were saying he would never fight again. Benimaru was torn up inside with guilt. Asakusa was in ashes and its people had lost their usual fighting spirit. “Do you need some water? Or… I can make you something to eat - I c-could…” Her voice got stuck in her throat, the lump that had been forming all morning finally grew too big and she nearly choked on a sob.

“Stop!” She grabbed his hand and lowered it to his side, keeping hold of his hand in both hers, “Please don’t.” Even with her voice breaking she still tried to smile for him, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, Konro… please.” Y/N could hardly breathe anymore, she pressed her forehead down to his and forced the sadness back - she needed to be strong - “You’ve done enough. You don’t have to give anymore.”

He was the man everyone went to for help or advice, he was the one who brought Benimaru under his wing after the Master had died and kept him on the right track. He gave and gave and gave…

Konro let out a shuddering breath, his lungs ached and he began to cough, every single jolt to his body hurt worse than the previous and he couldn’t repress the pained gasps this time. “It’s okay, Konro, I’m here, I’m gonna look after you.”

x - -

“Building was completed this morning, every house has the bare necessities, schools are open, the market  is trading as fairly as they can and we have a few new recruits training to join the Hikeshi by the end of the month.” Benimaru let out a small sigh as he finished his report whilst trying to learn how to treat Konro’s wounds. He wanted to help in any way he could and somehow, being able to properly treat Konro made him feel somewhat better.

“Three months to rebuild the Town?” Konro mused, “Was it supplies or labour?”

“Labour. Builders worked flat out but most of them were laid up till recently.”

Y/N listened quietly as they spoke, occasionally she would explain to Benimaru what she was doing but it was good to have the young man there to distract Konro. Months had passed but he was still in a great deal of pain, still burning on the inside but the Haijima patches seemed to help prevent the spread and provide some pain relief - she just wished it was something they could replicate so they didn’t need to rely on the Empire. She heard the pained hitches in Konro’s breathing and sometimes he would stop mid-sentence when it got too much. Sometimes it was enough to bring Konro to tears and he was hiding it the best he could to protect Benimaru and Y/N.

“H-how are the twins?”

Benimaru handed Y/N more bandage as she started to wrap Konro, “They’re assholes… they’re gonna come by later and tell you a bunch of lies about me - anything they say is a lie and if it’s not they deserved it.”

“…If Y/N and I ever have kids you’re not allowed to babysit.”

Benimaru snorted and gathered up the medical supplies to toss out, “That’s fine with me.” He stood up and headed towards the door, “Though I doubt any kid of yours would be as mean as two little girls on a sugar kick.” Not a moment after the door had slid shut, Y/N and Konro heard a crash and two little voices mocking Benimaru - it was followed shortly by their squeals and the sound of a nearly grown man chasing two little girls.

Y/N laughed at the noise and for a moment it felt like old times.

Life was slowly returning to Asakusa, it wasn’t surprising really, they were a resilient bunch. “We’re all done for today,” She kissed his heavily bandaged shoulder and rested a cooling blanket over the top, “Ready to eat?”

Konro winced as he turned his head to kiss her temple whilst she rested lightly on his shoulder, “Not really but you won’t take that as an answer, right?”

“Nope,” Y/N had been keeping his meal warm to the side and picked it up as she moved to sit just beside him, more than ready to feed him as she had for the last few weeks, “Konro…” he gave a hum in response, recognising in her tone there was going to be something he might not like. “I know you said you wanted to do it but let me put your sword on its stand…”

Since the day of the great fire his sword had sat in the corner of the room against the wall, she had made sure to clean it but he had told her he wanted to put it back. It was like a target he had set for himself, that if he could pick it up and place it on the stand on top of the dresser, it would prove something. It felt like such a sad thing to see it neglected and thrown aside - Konro had saved up and worked so hard to have it made.

Konro shook his head, “Be a little more patient with me, Y/N… besides, look,” There was a little more light in his eyes and he slowly reached out and took the chopsticks from the tray, “I’ll be feeding myself in no time!” he opened and closed the utensils and Y/N smiled back at him.

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive.” It was a good sign, it meant that he was healing and a part of her was relieved - being strong all the time, keeping his mood up and helping where she could was exhausting. Konro wasn’t a burden to her, she loved him and even if she ha to feed their whole life she would. She wondered how he managed. “You’ll be lifting your sword in no time then?”

“Yeah.” He parted his lips as she fed him a mouthful of rice.

Whilst he chewed Y/N bit her bottom lip a little nervously, “A-and then you’ll lift me up next?”

“Carrying you around is one of my favourite things, Y/N” She brushed a piece of rice from the corner of his lip where she had seemed distracted and missed. “What other challenges have you got for me?

Y/N hesitated before placing the bowl down and she reached for one of his hands, carefully bringing it to her belly, doing her best not to pull at him, “Do you think that in six months time… you could lift our baby?”

“…W…?” Konro’s eyes widened and he stared at her in shock, his mind turning over what she had said and as it began to slowly sink in, a smile a much brighter than any he had had since the fire spread across his face. “You…” Unable to think properly, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her as best he could, it hurt like hell and she was going to yell at him but he didn’t care in that small, hopeful, moment, “I’ll be strong enough for you both.”

[seaweedbrain404]

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1550

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Some Swearing

Inspired By - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

Tick.

“What do you think about your day to day habits?”

Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.

“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.

Tick.

The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”

A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over her left. The sensation was left unfelt, unnoticed if it wasn’t for the rustling of the oversized jacket.

Tick.

A brown eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Bishop.”

“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.

“Miss Bishop?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.

“Right,” Her right arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.

Her hands stuffed in her pockets she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, grey and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.

She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.

The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.

She hung the tan jacket on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the right side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, scarred and discolored even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage, the deepest scars.

They used to bother her when she looked at them, but back then they had been far worse. By now, they were incredibly soft with her years of routine moisturizing and upkeep. She hadn’t been to physical therapy for almost two years, not after they told her they had done all that they could, to just continue exercising the muscle that was left before pushing her out of the door. Nothing but another block to check off.

She was now snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.

__________________________________________

The bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her jacket. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. Her figure towered over her not only with her already shorter stature, but also because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.

“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her black hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with doe eyes.

“Um-” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.

“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.

“Do I-” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.

“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”

“I guess I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”

“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.

“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What-”

“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life story to someone?”