#and then I got a blister on my nose from said mask

[dragonpyre]

Eccc was a blast! Somehow I barely saw any other Bats tho. We’ll need to fix that

[pbandjesse]

It became fall all of a sudden again. It is very chill tonight. There is a brisk breeze coming in from the cracked window. And that's nice. I think it will help me sleep.

I actually did sleep good last night. I put a sleep mask on and that helped but that always makes my eyes feel gummy in the morning. So mixed results.

I think I am getting sick though. The bridge of my nose hurts and last time that happened I had a sinus infection. So with the bridge of my nose pain and the pain in my mouth, I think I am getting sick.

So I was still very stressed about today. But the nice thing I had to focus on was it was Jamess birthday!! And while they don't love their birthday I love them and I'm so glad they are here.

I did forget about it until we were dressed and in the car. I looked over at them and was like. !!! Birthday!! And apparently Jess was the first one to say it followed by Charlotte. Hilarious.

James would take me to the museum before they went to get our oil changed. Which ended up being a whole morning activity. It took 4 hours!! I felt horrible that they had to sit there when they could have been biking. On their birthday!! Ugh.

The plan was for James to come back for me later. And they would. But I was frustrated that they didn't get to do the things they had wanted.

I would have a pretty good day though. I let Jessica know I wasn't doing 100%. But I would be fine overall. I am doing pretty good holding it together. My head just hurts and I get tired quick. So I was slightly worried about my last tour of the day. But then Jessica said I didn't have to do it. The group went form 40 to 10 and so I didn't have to feel bad and could just focus on my two programs.

And the group I had was so sweet. They were really good kids. I got them off the bus and we headed to the assembly line pretty fast.

I was alone with them (and their chaperones) and we got to work.

We had laughs. And people asking me what their jobs were even though I kept saying not to do that. But they all worked hard and it was a good time.

And then it was time for lunch. We did make a 5 minutes stop in the car. Got some pictures. And I dropped them off so I could take a little break. I read an article on my phone and ate my nachos. It turned out my watch was wrong a lot. So I gave them a 5 minute warning to soon. But it's all good. I should replace my watch batteries soon.

The cannery went really well. They were really engaged and so I had fun asking and answering my questions. And the flow was good. Gaby was D and she has a great yell so that was funny. And Cindy and Michael continued to learn all the pieces of the cannery. And I think it was a really successful day.

James was still stuck at the dealership through the end of my cannery. But then the car was done and they headed to the museum.

Once my kids left I went to help with oysters. There was so weirdness when one of my coworkers was making cans? We don't need cans to be made. And she didn't seem to understand us when we said that and she just kept saying we needed more cans. So I texted Jessica and she was like. What. And came up. And it turned out she was really just fixing the messed up cans. So it was fine.

I helped her take some apart and fix them or repurpose them as best we could. I got frustrated with one of our hot glue guns because it was dripping and I got a blister on my fingertip. Which was infuriating to me. I hate getting burnt. It makes me feel stupid.

But then it was 2. And James was there to get me. I checked in with Jessica. She told me of I felt worse tomorrow to take the day off. But I think I'll be okay to power through.

James was a little frustrated. With the oil taking 4 hours. Not getting to bike. So I encouraged them to do so. We would drive home. I would get changed to lay down. And James would go bike.

I slept pretty hard. And I felt a little weird when I got up. But then James was there. They went to shower before joining me on bed for a while. Before I had to get up and got dressed for Jamess birthday dinner.

We went to their parents place to meet them before we walked to busboys and poets for dinner. Charlotte would join us eventually. She was the assistant coach for their powder puff football game. They won. Congrats. And we had a pretty nice dinner.

I texted with Jess. She said I should get falafel. This was a good call and was excellent. And while I think there was so issue with Anne and Tucker hearing me, the conversation was still nice and I had a good time. I am glad we celebrated my James.

I did give James the little gifts I got them. A knock of pair of their fancy gloves. A book about baseball plays in 1969. And a whole pack of personalized iron on tags with their name and phone number so if they lose things they will get them back easier.

We walked back to the cars. And me and James gave hugs all around. We saw stray cats. Probably not the one that bit me. But they were cute.

We came home and had pumpkin pie. James started laundry. And I worked on carving stamps. It has been a nice night.

I am ready to sleep though. I am feeling tired but am trying to not feel sick. Though I can feel it in my chest.

I hope you all are feeling okay. Take care of yourself. I love you all.

[mochegato]

Truth Be Told

This night was not turning out how she had thought it would turn out… Actually, up until a few minutes ago, it wasn’t much different from how she thought it would go.  She hadn’t been holding out much hope for the guy Rose had set her up with.  They did not have similar vetting styles or criteria.  So despite Rose’s most heartfelt hopes, the date with an overly sugary prick, oozing with fake charm and inauthentic compliments, was a complete flop and yet completely expected. 

While that man was annoying, he was not the cause of her current frustration.  No the current frustration was the man that had attempted to grab her as she walked home, her stilettos in her hand, because truthfully, she’d rather risk the dirty sidewalks of Gotham than the pain and blisters wearing those for another twelve blocks would cause.

She’d kept an eye on the man for the last block as he followed her, getting slowly closer and closer in a vain attempt not to alert her.  Joke was on him, she was always on alert.  But she wasn’t positive he was actually a threat.  Lots of people in Gotham were creepy, it didn’t mean they were a threat. 

When he finally grabbed her arm, she twisted immediately hitting him in the face with one of the stilettos.  He screamed in pain, bringing his hand up to his face.  She took advantage of his momentarily distraction to run.  She was confident in her fighting abilities, but there was always a chance for him to get a lucky hit in and a fight avoided if possible was safer than a fight engaged… or something like that.

He took advantage of his greater size and lunged at her before she could get out of his range.  He jerked her back with such strength and force, she couldn’t stop him or brace herself.  She fell as he pulled, dropping her shoes as she did.  He angrily swung for her head as she laid on the ground.  She rolled out of the way just in time and heard the crunch as his fist connected with the concrete.

She took a breath and stood up, moving behind him to punch him hard in his kidney.  He crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.  She took advantage of his position to knee him in the face, breaking his nose.  He groaned in pain and cradled his nose.  Marinette paused for just a second to take a breath before running again.  The ogre moved quicker than she had expected and grabbed her arm with his good hand, yanking her to him.  She used the momentum to drive her palm into his chin.  He staggered back a few steps, giving her enough room to kick him in the chest.  He fell back against the building next to them, hitting his head on the bricks with a sickening smack and slid down the wall, crumpling into a pile at the bottom.

Marinette edged closer to him to see if he was still alive, tensing as she got closer, ready to bolt if he so much as twitched.  She breathed a sigh of relief feeling a strong pulse and let herself relax for a moment.  Her whole body immediately tensed again as she heard a sound of something dropping behind her.  She slowly turned around to see a figure with a red bat across his broad chest a few feet away from her.  Her body relaxed minutely at the sight.  He was one of the bats.  One of the more violent ones, if she remembered correctly, but only against people who hurt kids.

She watched nervously as Red Hood sauntered slowly up to her.  He stopped a few feet away from her, looming threateningly over her.  He stared at her silently for a few moments, or at least she assumed that’s what he was doing.  It was rather hard to make out where exactly he was looking with his mask on.  She just barely stopped herself from jumping when he lifted his hand out to her, holding her shoes.  She looked at them dumbly for a few seconds before finally taking them with a quiet “Thanks.”

He didn’t react, or maybe he did, she just couldn’t see it under the mask, which was doing nothing to calm her.  Finally after she’d gotten her shoes back on he decided to break the silent, looming, threatening presence aura.  “That was amazing,” he gushed out.

Her eyes widened at the comment and snapped up to the mask’s eyes.  Of all the things she had been anticipating, that was not one of them.  “Uh… Thanks,” she answered uncertainly.  She studied him for a moment and realized he hadn’t been sauntering earlier, he had been staggering and now he was swaying as he stood turned.  “Are you… um… are you okay?  You’re kind of…” she motioned to his body.

Red Hood tore his eyes away from her eyes, with great force of will to examine his body for what she meant.  He stumbled as he tried to check himself for injuries.  He was fine.  He hadn’t even been involved in this fight and Scarecrow’s goons hadn’t landed almost any of their hits.  He was perfectly fine.  He looked back up to meet her eyes again and cocked his head to the side for a moment.  Her eyes were blue but he couldn’t quite tell the shade with his mask on.  The filters in the mask were making them appear slightly different than they really were and he needed to see her eyes properly.

Marinette failed to stop herself from jumping slightly when his hands moved lightning quick to remove his helmet to see her better.  Marinette gasped at his freshly exposed face.  “Should you be doing th…”

“Wow… you’re fucking hot,” he grinned.  He had definitely made the right decision removing the helmet.  He could see her much better without it. He could now make out the rosy hue on her cheeks at his comment and the exact bluebell shade of her eyes.  He had been right.  She was even more gorgeous without the filter.

“Um… thanks,” she gave him a nervous smile.  What the fuck was happening right now?  “So are you.”

“I am,” he nodded in agreement.  “But you’re hotter.  I’m Jason.”  He reached his hand out to shake hers.

Marinette drew in a breath and clenched her lips closed.  Her eyes turned concerned.  “Oh, you definitely shouldn’t be doing that,” she tried to lightly chastise him, but he was looking at her with such an earnest, hopeful expression she couldn’t help but smile at him and take his hand.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jason… should she call him Jason or Red Hood.  She really shouldn’t know his name… but she did so… Jason said again breathlessly.

“Hi,” Nightwing added loudly from behind Jason, breaking their moment.  Marinette yanked her hand back and looked back and forth between the two.

Jason groaned loudly and shook his head.  He looked up to the sky for a moment, but quickly returned his focus to Marinette.  “Oh fuck off, Dickhead.  I’m working here.”

“So the body is yours?” Nightwing prodded.

“No,” Jason grinned proudly at her.  “It’s hers.”

Marinette gave Jason a panicked look before switching to look at Nightwing again.  “He attacked me and I stopped him.  He’s still alive.  I checked.”

“Yes you did,” Jason confirmed delightedly.

Nighwing tapped his ear piece and knelt next to the body, examining it.  “Oracle, can you send police to my location, please?  We have an unconscious body.  Looks like he’ll need a medic too.”  He nodded at whatever was said in his earpiece and took a beat to collect himself before walking up to them slowly, watching them analytically as if trying to assess the situation.  “You okay, ma’am?”  He asked with a guarded tone.  Marinette looked over to Jason who rolled his eyes at her and looked away in annoyance at Nightwing’s interruption.  Marinette looked back to Nightwing and nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it.  Sorry about Hood,” he grinned charmingly at Marinette in a manner she was sure was supposed to lull her into a sense of calm and trust, but after an entire dinner of smarmy smiles, Nightwing’s grated on her instead.  Jason’s earnest smile however… that was something else. 

Despite Jason’s previous insult, Nighwing continued walking closer until he was close enough to throw his arm over Jason’s shoulder.  “Scarecrow had a particularly potent drug and Red Hood got hit with it a few times.  So Hood could have been saying absolutely any crazy thing.  I’m honestly surprised he can even walk right now.”

Marinette caught on quickly.  This was Nightwing’s way of mediating potential security breaches, in case Jason had done anything that could compromise his and their identities, like removing his helmet and telling her his name.  Marinette could sympathize with the attempt after her years of trying to manage the miraculous identities secret, but he’d come with his fake smile and fake concern and she was done with fake people today.  So, mess with him it was.  “So I shouldn’t have taken him saying I was cute seriously?” she asked innocently.

Nightwing paused for just a second.  If Marinette hadn’t been watching, she would have missed it.  “No!  No,” he stuttered.  “I mean, it doesn’t STOP him from saying true things.  And that certainly is true.  It just…”

Jason finally tore his intense gaze away from Marinette to whirl on Dick and shove him away, which was actually quite lucky for Jason, as the shoving motion is the only thing that countered his momentum and kept him from falling.  “Stop hitting on the woman I’m hitting on,” he hissed at Nightwing.  Nightwing gasped at seeing Jason’s naked face, not even a domino mask to hide his identity.

Jason twirled back toward her, but overcorrected and turned past her.  He had to slowly turn back until he faced her and pointed his finger at her accusatorily.  “And I didn’t say you were cute.  I said you were fucking hot and you are.” He smiled proudly at his statement.

Marinette giggled both at Jason’s bluntness and the horror on Nightwing’s face.  She raised her hands in surrender, letting Jason take the win.  He nodded smugly at her acquiescence. 

“Okay Romeo, let’s get you home,” Nightwing said, clapping Jason on the back and not so subtly pushing him past Marinette and down the sidewalk, or at least attempting to. 

Jason swayed back toward Marinette, raising his arm to balance himself just high enough that it landed perfectly on Nightwing’s shoulder in a way that would have been considered smooth if it had been in anyway intentional rather than sheer dumb luck.  “Dickweed, if you stop me from getting her number I’m going to fill all of your uniforms with itching powder,” Jason growled threateningly.  He leaned in closer to Nightwing until their faces were a few inches apart.  “ALL OF THEM.  If she’s willing to give me her number, I’m going to take it.”

“And what good would her number do Red Hood?” Nightwing gritted out pointedly.

Jason blinked and pulled his head back clumsily.  “Don’t know.  But it’ll do Jason Todd a lot of fucking good.”  He smiled roguishly at Marinette.  “And if I’m extremely lucky, maybe eventually, some good fucking too.” 

Marinette sputtered at him completely exposing his identity and his honest admission of his intentions, her mouth dropped.  Nightwing groaned.

Jason moved closer to her, trying to keep his steps measured and graceful.  It didn’t really work, but it reduced the stumbling.  “I never did catch your name, Helen might come close but couldn’t match.”

She blinked a few times to catch up with the rapid change in tone and quirked her head to the side.  “Helen?”

He nodded slowly at her, his eyes still focused solely on her.  “Of Troy.  Face that launched a thousand ships.  Surely yours could launch a million.”  His voice was reverent and his smile had softened becoming affectionate rather than roguish.

“Oh my God," she giggled, an incredulous smile settling on her face.  "Is he like this when sober?”

“Not with me,” Nightwing said rolling his eyes, or at least she thought that’s what he was doing under the domino mask.  His entire head rolled as he did it.  “But he is usually pretty blunt,” he acknowledged.  “But with the serum added in…”  He trailed off, letting her fill in the gaps.  Nightwing looked back over at Marinette appraisingly.  “Look…”

“Marinette,” she supplied.

“Marinette…” Jason repeated.  He let the name linger on his tongue.  “That’s a beautiful name.  Epic poems could be written about that name and that smile.”

Her cheeks reddened and she had to look away from the intensity of Jason’s stare.  She shook her head and coughed to try to calm her heart.  She raised an eyebrow at Nightwing.  “So I take it that it was a truth serum?”  The deep sigh Nightwing let out was confirmation enough for Marinette.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that you are sexy as fuck,” Jason interrupted her.

Marinette, whose mouth had been open to continue her thought, snapped it shut with an audible clap and turned bright red.

Nightwing choked and tried to cough to cover it.  “Jesus, Jason.  Take it down a notch or ten.”

Jason shrugged at him, smiling proudly at Marinette’s expression.  “Equal and opposite flirting rule.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette interrupted.  Because that sounded like he was flirting to the same level she was and she had definitely NOT been flirting at that level or at all.  Damn, she needed to up her flirting game.  She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut quickly.  Now was not the time.  He was drugged out of his mind.  She was not going to hit on someone who was buzzed beyond belief.

“The level of flirting exhibited shall match the level of awesomeness of the subject of the flirting,” Jason explained calmly, still smiling his soft smile at her.  And honestly, if he kept that up, she was going to rescind her stance on flirting back at him.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds “Uhhh,” she started, internally groaning at her very intelligent response.  Eloquent conversation?  Nailed it.  Very deserving of the ‘awesome’ title.

She blinked a few times and turned to Nightwing.  “I understand the value of a secret identity.  I assume you won’t take my word on it, but perhaps you could take a fellow hero’s word?”  Nightwing raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.  “You’re part of the Justice League, right?  You can check with Ladybug.  She’ll vouch for me.”

“Ooohhh,” Jason suddenly let out, moving in between her and Nightwing.  “Ladybug!  She’s fucking hot too and so amazing.  Almost as much as you.  You fight like that without a magic suit to help.  That’s so impressive.”  Marinette could feel her cheeks grow even redder.  If this kept up, her face was going to be as red as her mask, and there would be no hiding her identity.  “You’re friends with her?” Jason continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil.  “Batman won’t let me meet her.  Are all your friends as hot and amazing as you?” 

“I’ll check with her the next time I see her,” Nightwing confirmed over Jason, putting his arm around his waist again to guide him down the street.

Marinette nodded at him.  “It was nice meeting you two.”

“Wait,” Jason lunged out of Nightwing’s arm toward her, nearly knocking her down.  “I didn’t get your number.”

Marinette looked to Nightwing.  “Uh… I don’t think your… teammate wants me to do that.”

“Ignore that happiness killing asshole.  Dick has always been like that.  Besides, we’ll need your number to keep an eye on you, right?  I volunteer,” he grinned brightly.

Marinette opened her mouth and shut it again.  She determinedly refused to look at Nightwing, Dick apparently, and focused on Jason, fixing him with a pointed stare.  “If I give you my number, will you stop giving me personal secrets?  Yours and your other partners’?”

“My brothers?”  Marinette’s eyes snapped to Nightwing’s this time.

Nightwing slapped himself on the forehead.  “Little Wing…” he groaned.

“Yes your brothers’.  And go home and sleep this off?” she continued.

“Yes I will.  Although I’d sleep better if I knew you were there too, watching over me,” he added earnestly.

“No, you wouldn’t.”  She pulled out a sheet of paper to write it on but he shoved his phone in her hands instead. 

“Just put it directly in here,” he offered instead.

She closed her eyes and sighed.  She looked over to Nightwing for guidance, but he shrugged at her, defeat clear in his slumped shoulders.

“I definitely would,” he countered her.  He turned toward Nightwing.  “You should have seen her take out that thug when he tried to grab her.  She was amazing,” he sighed out dreamily.  “She knocked his ass out.  Hey!” he perked up as if suddenly realizing something.  “She’s a knock out who knocked his ass out!”  He turned back toward her and leaned on Nightwing in a daze.  “I think I’m in love.”

“I am so sorry about him,” Nightwing looked at her pleadingly.

Marinette waved him off and put her name and number in Jason’s phone.  “Truthfully?  Significantly more honest, respectful, and romantic than the date I had tonight or in the past… while, so… Have him give me a call tomorrow if he still feels the same.”

“Oh I will,” Jason grinned at her, taking his phone back and laughing at the (Helen) she’d put next to her name.  “It was nice meeting you Marinette.  It was the highlight of my week.”

Marinette grinned and pushed up to kiss him on his cheek.  “Mine too.  Now put on your helmet before you out yourself to anyone else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jason nodded.  He put his helmet on as she walked away, but rubbed the area of his helmet over his cheek where she had kissed him, a goofy smile on his face.  He would definitely call her in the morning.  He would make sure he remembered.  He wasn’t stupid enough to let someone like her get away.

Continued in Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

@boldlyanxious

[xhanisai]

Knowing

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Ladrien + Adrinette (With Ladynoir dynamics?)

Summary -

"Quit it. Quit all of these pretences. I'm sick and tired...so tired of being forced to pretend that I don't know who you are...pretending to not hear your pained whimpers when you sit behind me...pretending to accept your excuses when you're extra clumsy from all the fatigue..." His forehead was on hers now, dark lashes lowered as the remnants of his tears clung onto them like diamonds. "Pretending not to recognise the bandages and wounds that I worked on," "Adrien...you're going to be compromised-"

"I'm sick and tired of not being allowed to be by your side, Marinette."

.

Just as mentioned, he was no angel.

(Or, AU where only Ladybug's miraculous is released and the healing light does not protect her whilst Adrien is her self-proclaimed sidekick/partner).

~(x)~

.

.

.

"...You still seem quite mad at me," Ladybug timidly peered under her lashes, the fabric of the makeshift mask shifting from her furrowed brows whilst her kwami chewed silently as she rested on her generous plate of cookies. The duo were sat on the edge of a giant, expensive bed that belonged to the other presence in the room who was also the owner of said wonderful bed and said ginormous room. Though, Adrien remained tight-lipped as if to ignore his Lady's sentence, nose still slightly flared as he gently carried on in redressing the bandages on her arm with a precision that would make many in the medical field take notes. A precision that came from countless experiences in having to patch up the girl over and over again which in turn continued to crush his heart from the sight of her covered in such painful wounds... The heroine couldn't help letting out another pouty sigh as she continued to receive the silent treatment from her self-proclaimed partner despite the boy lacking any supernatural powers or having any abilities to aid her in Akuma battles without becoming a liability. Yet, it didn't make her think of him any less and every bit of help and nosing around proved to be so much more beneficial than she'd stubbornly like to admit. If it weren't for him, she would have probably drowned that one time an Akuma got lucky and delivered a horrific blow against her skull, causing her to lose consciousness and fall in la seine like dead weight. She remembered the bloodcurdling cry of her name on his lips, Adrien tailing the battle in order to keep an eye on her and make sure to pull her aside if the fight got too brutal. She remembered the blistering feelings of glaciers seeping through her skin when the impact of hitting the water made her regain back consciousness yet her body refused to cooperate with her brain. A splash from above as she continued to sink below. The sensations of strong, firm arms crushing her into a familiar chest as she passed out anew. Soft, soft, soft on her lips whist the harsh, hot breath rushed through her mouth and hands crushed her chest until she coughed out the river water in her system and opened her eyes. "...Dieu...Dieu merci...oh my Lady," And scorching tears that belonged to him dripped down on her face as if he was rain and she was a parched, dying plant stranded in a desert. . "Is it because the Akuma broke my arm again? I swear I was being extra careful." She got a low scoff in response, his emerald greens continuing to seethe in a rare but dangerously fiery rage. . But Ladybug was well known to always throw herself within the depths of even the most deadliest of flames. . "...Or, is it because of...of our conversation from yesterday?" Her question was the final straw for the blond, his hand slamming the first aid kit shut, surprising the little red kwami, and then finally stood up to face the love of his life with an expression so stoic, it would have given his negligent father a run for his money. "Can't really call it a conversation when you wouldn't let me speak a single word." His tone was like ice burrowing through her veins like a parasite and his broader frame practically towered over hers as she cooly remained seated on his bed. "Come on, Adrien. It was a really dangerous subject and you agreed to never approach it-" "And you know who else doesn't let me speak? Père." Suddenly, she felt like she was plunged into the icy, freezing depths of la Seine once again. The mere thought of being compared to such a horrible human being that mistreated her loved one on a daily basis was the equivalent of getting knocked around against buildings by a gang of ruthless akumas. Ladybug absolutely hated it.

"Wha- don't compare ME to HIM!" Ladybug sat up instantly, having to strain her head up just to meet the boy's heated gaze due to their stark height difference as their chests were almost pressed against one another. The stabbing and persistent pain and aches of her wounds and broken arm were thrown to the back of her mind as she narrowed her eyes further at Adrien. "The only reason I couldn't let you say anything else is because of your safety, Adrien. I do this not just for Paris, but also so you're always safe and sound! I wouldn't know what I'd do if you ever got hurt because of me." "By letting yourself carry on getting thrown around by villains regularly without any help whatsoever!? By still refusing to see doctors or hospitals to check on your broken bones just to keep your secret identity!?" His trembling hands were now on her cheeks as he pulled her closer. "By forcing yourself to come to school every day??? Pretending that you're okay and not nursing ungodly bruised ribs and concussions-" Ladybug couldn't help but slap her free hand against his mouth, shaking her head, internally begging him to not say it. To not make it a reality. To not break the illusion of the line she placed between her vigilant side and civilian side. But, over half a year of knowing this boy has made her more than aware that he's no angel. A cunning, sneaky little black cat instead. One that nonchalantly inserted himself into her life on both sides of her mask and refused to leave because she is his Lady whether she liked it or not and probably, definitely knew that she liked it quite a lot. And that's why she tried so hard to maintain the wall between them because she knew that she would be completely destroyed if anything happened to the boy she loves more than life itself. Yet, he continued to crash through without a beat. . "Quit it. Quit all of these pretences. I'm sick and tired...so tired of being forced to pretend that I don't know who you are...pretending to not hear your pained whimpers when you sit behind me...pretending to accept your excuses when you're extra clumsy from all the fatigue..." His forehead was on hers now, dark lashes lowered as the remnants of his tears clung onto them like diamonds. "Pretending not to recognise the bandages and wounds that I worked on," "Adrien...you're going to be compromised-"

"I'm sick and tired of not being allowed to be by your side, Marinette."

.

Just as mentioned, he was no angel.

.

And when he threw the mask off her face and captured her lips in a desperate and raw kiss, it was anything but angelic.

His piano fingers dug through her hair, snapping the ribbons so that the midnight locks spilt downwards and tangled up within his digits. His lips slanted against hers, greedily taking in everything that was humanly possible as if to emphasise just how much she meant to him whilst his eyes remained tightly shut and his nose took in the sweet scent of her body in a frenzy.

Marinette's blood was lit up in the most delicious, fiery way she's ever experienced and she could have sworn that she was melting from his touch itself, let alone his lips taking captive of hers in a head-spinning, heart racing kiss.

Much to her dismay, she had to pull back too soon, far too breathless and winded from the boy's affections alone. That didn't stop him from chasing her lips, brushing his mouth against hers again and again and again and then trailing his lips to her jaw, his arms firm as they pressed her against his body yet being mindful of her injuries.

.

"Marinette..." He whispered into her skin, his body arched over hers whilst battling the temptation to push her into the bed behind them. "

My Marinette," The slight possessive tone in his voice had her quietly giggling as she brushed her fingers through the shorter locks on the back of his head.

"Adrien...that was dangerous," The light tone of her voice juxtaposed her sentence but she earned another protective squeeze from her partner.

"I don't care." His words were muffled since his face was buried into her neck, almost whiny and childish. All Marinette could do was sigh and continue to hold him, eyeing her kwami who now floated up to meet their gazes.

"As dangerous as this is, it was inevitable," The little Goddess started, gaining a victorious smirk from the blond whilst the heroine scowled in return. "And if nothing has happened to him so far despite knowing your identity, then we should be slightly assured that he'll continue to be fine in the future,"

"Wait. How long exactly did you know that I was...well, me?" Marinette scrutinised the boy who now sported a slightly sheepish expression as he led them back to sit on the bed. "...Adrien???" Her eyes continued to narrow.

"I think...around the start~?"

He should have known, broken arm or no broken arm, the love of his life was capable of destroying him with a bunch of his pillows. Even Tikki joined in! It took a few more minutes of him withstanding the brunt of the plush objects being thrown at him with a never-ending smile on his face for Marinette to give up with a harrumph.

"I can't believe you! All this time, all this time you knew! Ugh! No wonder you were always hovering around me like some bodyguard at school and always bought my excuses when I had to suddenly leave to fight an Akuma!" She tossed one last pillow at his head, causing it to bounce off and fall onto the floor like the rest of its family. Adrien continued to watch her with an amused yet adoring smile, unable to stop himself from giving her another kiss, earning a surprised squeak from her.

Unlike the last one, it was quite brief but never less loving and certainly had both of their hearts ricocheting within their chests. When he pulled away, the duo wore matching lovestruck faces and rosy cheeks, the older of the two interlacing his hand with Marinette's uninjured one.

"As Tikki said, it was inevitable. We're in the same class. We're best friends. Our best friends are dating." He then leaned into her face, grinning like a feline who got the cream. "So of course, I had my eye on you throughout the whole time. It wasn't long till all the extra pieces and parts were glued together as I watched you," And of course, since he was such a greedy little devil, he pressed his lips against hers once more, smiling from the feel of her lashes fluttering shut and tickling his cheekbones.

"Adrien...you can't keep kissing me to avoid the consequences of you now officially knowing my identity- mmph!" Marinette let out a warning growl whilst the boy smirked in the umpteenth liplock, playfully nipping her bottom lip and emerald greens twinkling at her dishevelled face. "I hate you."

"Oh no~ you love me. Love. Me~" He emphasised each word with a kiss on her nose and then finally gave her some space, cradling her hand with both of his and then brushing his lips against her hardworking knuckles. "I know you're worried. I know you're scared. But not once have you ever let Paris down...ever let me down," He kissed her forehead, combing her fringe with his fingers affectionately.

"But still, Adrien. Anything could happen and..."

"I'm very careful, Marinette," He tilted her chin up with his finger so that she met his eyes. "I've been trying my best to help out behind the scenes and not once has an Akuma nor Le Papillon caught a whiff of me. Or that I'm linked with your alter ego." His smile softened from the way she relaxed under his touch, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her cheek and her baby blues twinkling.

"It's...it is a huge risk...we've seen what happens to those who are close to superheroes in films and books." She gripped his hand tightly, the one that wasn't caressing her face. "I would become a monster if anything happens to you," Adrien furrowed his brows at her declaration, placing his forehead on hers.

"I'm no Louis Lane and I'm certainly no Gwen Stacey. I'm Adrien. Your Adrien. I know I can't aid you in Akuma fights despite being a champion in fencing so that Le Papillon doesn't target me. But, I can protect you like this, in secret. Where that cowardly man can't harm us and where the paparazzi can't even get a glimpse of my interactions with your masked self." He was now tracing mindless shapes on the back of her hand, massaging the bones and savouring the softness of her skin.

"And honestly, whether we have a relation or no relation. Whether I know your identity or not. That hasn't stopped that deranged man from sending in puppet villains that mercilessly hurt innocent civilians." His expression was determined and pleading, hands quietly trembling from all the feelings and emotions that coursed through his body.

"...Tikki? What do you suggest?" Not knowing how to respond to Adrien and unsure of what decision to make, she turned to the ancient little Goddess.

"I think you're better off taking this risk rather than continuing to fight Akumas without Adrien's aid in the background. Usually, my holders are healed by the miraculous lights but because the damages you fix is so vast and so magnificent, it balances out by not healing you. Marinette, do you understand how amazing you are? You have brought the dead back to life." Tikki placed her small hands on her friend's cheek. "You're unconsciously just so selfless, you ended up becoming one of the best Ladybugs I've ever had...but because of your selflessness, you're unable to look after yourself properly,"

She then floated towards Adrien and landed on his shoulder.

"I've suspected that he knew who you are for quite a while. And I never said a word about it because he was doing everything to look after you as much as he could. He's covered for your absences in school. He's read and studied medical books just so he knew how to treat your injuries right. He always brought you coffee and breakfast because you're always so exhausted. And he loves you so much, he would do anything for you," She smiled sweetly at the flustered model. "I think...no. I know it's best to keep him in the loop. To let him continue to protect you in his own way. You deserve to be happy too, Marinette,"

All the chords within the heroine's heart were hit with flying colours, overwhelming her tiny body with so much love and emotions that her eyes began to water.

"...You really love me...?" Marinette's voice was shy and small. She wasn't entirely blind to his feelings to her with how he treated her in and out of the mask. Heck, even their friends would always tease him about being an overprotective husband and the way he would bristle if anyone he didn't like or know got too close to her.

Not to mention that they have kissed multiple times too.

For Nino's film. To snap each other out of Akuma spells. When a villain got a bit too close to either of them. And even now.

"Well, duh." He jokingly flicked her nose with a finger, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. "It's like everyone in the world knew I'm head-over-heels except for you. Ma Princesse, your parents even call me their son or son-in-law. And I only have ever kissed you." He pecked her hand, marvelling at the way the sakura hue continued to bloom across her cheeks. "Now I think the question here is, is my feelings mutual?"

.

That little shit.

He knew and yet he wanted her to say it?

.

"Duh~" Marinette parroted, her iconic alter ego's smirk now playing on her lips as she watched her partner's face melt with indescribable joy. "But you knew that anyway, like the sneaky cat you are." She was met with a shameless chuckle and he brought her into his arms.

"Not as long as I knew your identity but it's still nice to have some verbal confirmation. I think I figured it out when hit me on the shoulder for getting too close to the battles and then kissed me right away~"

"Ahh. So that's why you became even more touchy and bold at school."

Adrien pulled away just a bit, enough to face her but still having her frame within his embrace. His golden hair endearingly bounced when he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

"As if I'd leave the love of my life alone~" Just as he was leaning in to snatch another kiss, all the pain and aches came swarming back like a tsunami and caused Marinette to wince from the injuries. "Oh, shit- first! We are taking you to a hospital to have a thorough look at your injuries. I'll make up some excuse about how you got them but you really need to see a professional."

"Ugh...Fine. What is the excuse gonna be?"

Once again, she was reminded that her Adrien was no angel.

"Oh~ that you were so captivated by my beauty, you tripped and fell down the stairs of course~!"

"...I want a divorce."

"Oh? We're married???"

"I mean break up!"

"No, no, no. You said divorce~ So I should introduce myself as your husband at the hospital, non?"

"We're still in le collège! That wouldn't work! Tikki, help!"

"I'll take good care of you, ma femme~"

.

.

.

~(x)~

[nationalharryleague]

Acts of Service

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word count: 2K

A/N: This is a fluffy love letter to Harry’s love language definitely being acts of service. Feedback is always appreciated and loved! More of my work can be found in my masterlist! 

***

You hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.

The club was hot and sticky and the pounding of the music was giving you a headache between your eyes. Blisters had begun to form from the rubbing of your heels and your boob prison of a push up bra was beginning to pinch in all the wrong places. You wanted to go home.

At home, you knew the green-eyed, curly-haired god of a man you had somehow trapped in your own spell was waiting up for you. You pictured him curled up on your couch in your apartment, where you had begged him to stay so he would be there whenever you were released from Girls Night. You smiled at the thought of him fighting off sleep with your dog burrowed into his side and your kitten curled up on his chest. A smile pulled it’s way to your lips thinking of how you would collapse next to him and be enveloped by the smell that could be described only as Harry that filled your apartment whenever he was there. You hadn’t been with him for long, but you knew you never wanted to be without him again.

Miss you. Be home soon :), you typed out to him and pressed send before your phone was ripped out of your hands by familiarly manicured fingertips. Your objections were met with laughter and playful scolding from your friend, Sarah.

“No more phone!” she giggled, slipping your device into her own back pocket. “More dancing and drinking,” she insisted, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the depths of the red velvet booth. She held her iron grip on your hand as you were dragged through the cramped dance floor to the long bar. Soon shots were placed in your hands of some clear foul smelling liquid that Sarah assured you ‘didn’t burn too bad.’ On the count of three, you found out your friend was a dirty good-for-nothing liar and the fiery alcohol slid it’s way down your throat, feeling it’s intoxicating effects only minutes later.

Dancing didn’t sound too bad anymore. Dancing actually sounded great. And dance you did. You felt your normally self conscious and slightly awkward self melt away as it always did when you had a couple drinks in you and you had the time of your life. When the club turned its lights up, the universal sign of ‘get the fuck out,’ your friends piled into the back of your designated driver’s car. You were usually DD, but you were glad you passed up the opportunity for once.

“There’s my man!” you shouted out the back window as you pulled up to the apartment building, finding Harry waiting for you, leaning against the front doors. He loved it when you called him ‘your man;’ letting out a light chuckle but fighting a blush from finding its way to his face in front of the gaggle of girls. He looked sleepy, understandable since it was nearly 3am, but a smile didn’t leave his lips as he gently rubbed his eyes.

“Hi my girl,” his voice graveled back, thick with the sound of sleep. Clumsily climbing out of the back seat, you wobbled your way to his waiting arms, finally feeling steady supported by his firm hold on your waist.

“I missed you,” you whispered, only stumbling over your words a little and puckering your lips slightly, silently asking for a kiss. You watched his eyes flicker quickly up at the watching car full of your closest friends before giving into your request. When your lips met, you were cheered on by a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs,’ your girlfriends determined to embarrass you both. You pressed your now pink cheek to his chest as you waved your friends off into the night, saying your goodbyes and feeling a light peck to the top of your head.

“Come on, let's get you upstairs party girl,” Harry spoke softly, his hand securely wrapped around you and a finger hooked into your jeans’ belt loop, steadying your slightly swaying body. The elevator ride up to your apartment was short, filled with your drunken blabbering about whatever came to mind; topics varying from how soft your kitten was to how bad you wanted to eat the tub of cookie dough in the back of your fridge. Your thoughts were met with sleepy chuckles and his adoring gaze.

Walking inside your home, after a considerable fight with your key, you surveyed the sleeping animals curled up into their beds and raised their heads for only a moment before they deemed sleep more important than their mother. Looking around your cramped living room, you were greeted with a spotless apartment, far cleaner than when you left it for your night of mayhem. “Oh, you didn’t,” you accused as your shocked face met his smug one.

“I got a little bored and I thought it would be nice for you to come home to a clean house,” he smiled. Throw pillows were set on the couch in perfect alignment, tops and bottoms of potential outfits you had chosen from had long been folded and put away, and your carpet looked fluffier like it was freshly vacuumed. “There's also something for you in the kitchen.”

A whisper of ‘oh my goodness’ left your lips when you saw the plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on your counter in the tiny kitchen. You were an emotional drunk and you didn’t even know you were crying until Harry wiped your tears away.

“You didn't have to do all of this for me,” you whimpered as he pulled you into another hug, leaning up against his warm frame to balance your own.

“I wanted too,” he assured you tenderly. “You know my love language is acts of service, or at least that’s what you told me it was,” he said, your head vibrating from the laugher in his chest.

Harry made you feel loved more than anything else in your relationship. You had only been together for a few months and they had been some of the happiest of your life. You two had met in a bookstore, however chiche it was, and had gotten coffee together. It was your treat (gift giving was your own love language) and very soon after you decided you never wanted to live a life without him in it. You loved him and you knew it, but you had not reached the point in your relationship where you were ready to tell him that. You hoped the gifts you brought nearly every time you saw him were already doing that for you.

You had never been in a relationship that you saw a clear future in. Sure, there were a few people here and there but you had always been known as the single friend. The friend that would always lend an ear, give unfounded relationship advice, and curse exes until they evenvitabily got back together.

Everything about Harry was different. You had met your match. You could spend days on end curled in each other's arms, only leaving your bed to grab snacks, and never run out of topics to discuss or want some time apart. You talked about your careers (he was a middle school music teacher and you were a law student), the meaning of life, childhood memories, your favorite colors, and so on. It was all just so easy with him.

He was also the first man you had ever been fully comfortable with. Overtime, your walls came down (or he knocked out a couple bricks and stuck in), and your usually self conscious demeanor began to twist into this new and improved version of yourself. Even if down the line you and Harry went your separate ways, you knew you would be better for knowing him.

You were brought out of your adoring haze when Harry asked if you needed help getting into pajamas. You agreed, knowing that getting you out of those jeans was going to be a two person job.  

Soon you were laying back on your (now perfectly made) bed, naked from the waist up; both of you fighting with the skin tight fabric, your inebriated hands being absolutely no help to the efforts. Your body shook with giggles watching your saint of a boyfriend tug on each leg of your pants, willing them to move, as he swore about how he was going to have to cut you out of them.

“Your neighbors are going to think we're going to town on each other,” he grumbled as he inched them down your legs.

“Nothing out of the ordinary then,” you laughed and wiggled your legs when you were finally free from their hold.

“I’m assuming you want this?” he asked, moving to take off his large tshirt, revealing first his ferns, then his butterfly, and then your favorite little swallows. After a feverish nod, you lifted your hands up and he slipped his shirt onto your smaller frame, enveloping you in the soft fabric and your favorite smell in the world.

“Smells like home,” you mumble while burying your nose in the fabric, unsure if he heard you.

“Oi, you’re going to stain it with your makeup,” he scolded. “Let’s get all that off.”

Sitting you down on the edge of the tub, you watched as he shuffled around the bathroom, frequently looking back to your face to examine his task. He looked at you like your face of makeup was a puzzle to be solved or a mountain to scale.

“I can just sleep in it and deal with it in the morning,” you said in between bites of the chocolate chip cookie you had stolen off the kitchen counter.

“We both know I’ll get in trouble if I let you sleep in it.”

“Probably,” you shrugged without paying much attention to him, mainly enamored by the cookie that was beginning to disappear.

Kneeling down in front of you, wielding a wash cloth soaked in makeup remover, Harry began to softly rub at your makeup. His touch was delicate and tender, careful not to get any in your eyes or hair line. He took his time, moving in soft circles, cleaning away the mask you had put on for the occasion. His breath handed softly on your face and you scanned his face, appreciating this time to take him in.

He was so beautiful. His eyebrows were gently brought together and his tongue would swipe over his lips every so often in focus. His eyes were deep and green, flecked with brown and blue, and framed by long black eyelashes you would kill for. Your eyes swiped around his face connecting his constellation of freckles and you reached up to brush your hands against the light stubble that had begun to show against his jaw line. You let your hand fall to his bare shoulder, stabilizing yourself against his strong build. His skin was soft and tan and perfect.

Your lips had a mind of your own when you said it. A verbalized moment of sheer honesty and adoration. You didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.

“I love you, H.”

You could take it back, but that would be lying and probably hurt his feelings. You could double down and keep talking, but your hazy thoughts couldn’t come up with anything else to say at the moment. Your third option was saying nothing. You picked the third.

He paused for a moment when he processed what you said, his eyebrows shooting up and giving you an amused look. A closed lipped grin played on his lips and he continued on with his task, wringing out the towel over the tub and going back in to dry your face.

If you had been sober, you would have absolutely panicked. You would have run out of the bathroom and buried yourself under your sheets, embarrassed of what you just did. But you were hanging on for dear life to your buzz, pretending like everything was perfectly peachy and you didn’t just accidentally tell your boyfriend of only a few months that you loved him.

“That’s good. Because I love you too,” he beamed, all exhaustion gone from his voice.

Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it :) My ask box is open with any feedback you may have! 

[wesimpforxiao]

Inception: Chapter 3

You were busy humming away and cleaning the dishes when Childe eyed your bed again.  He couldn't shake the feeling that this was where you'd hide evidence if there was any to begin with.  He glanced in your direction and shifted off of the couch, careful not to make the couch squeak from his movements.

No sooner did he crouch at your bedside that he could see the glint of something with a distinct shade of red.  He pulled what looked to be a large laundry bag out from under the bed, his hand rummaging around to find one of the domestic Fatui masks that only covered the eyes.  

From the looks of it, these are all the stolen masks, he scanned beneath the bed once more, but found nothing but dust bunnies.  So Zhongli was right about you.  What have you been up to, girlie?  The sound of the facet turning off warned Childe that it would be seconds before you turn around and see what he was doing.  

"You've been awfully quiet over there, Aj-" You spun on your heel and noticed him kneeling at your bed with widening eyes.  "-Hey, what're you doing?!"

Childe doesn't do deception--well, besides lying to you and Teucer, that is.  Then there was the time with Aether...Okay, maybe he does a bit of deception, but...He kept his ground and didn't answer.

Panicked, you ran over to him.  "Whatever you're doing, put it back! You don't go snooping around for ladies' panties when they invite you over, do you?!"  You came to a halt when you saw him holding one of your prizes, expecting him to do something, anything than what he did next.

Childe peered over with a sly grin and lifted the mask high in the air for you to see.  "What's this, Reed? Don't tell me this is for some sort of roleplay...?"

"Eh?!"  He watched you turn beet red in a heartbeat with amusement--and suspicion.  "N-No! Not at all!"

The ball was in his court now, and he spiked it back.  "What's wrong ojou-chan?  I was only asking if you do it for performances like the opera.  Don't tell me you were thinking something dirty-"

"Shut it! Shut up!" You reached for the mask, but the man got to his feet and towered over you so you couldn't grab it.  "Give it back and stop going through my stuff! That's not the definition of 'make yourself at home,' you know!"

"So, what do you use these for?" A slight tilt of the head gestured to the bag of masks on the floor.  "They're Fatui masks.  Are you the one responsible for their disappearances after all?"

"Give me that-" You grabbed his forearm and heated the skin enough to make him lose his grip from surprise, but not enough to burn him.  Satisfied with regaining your prize, you shoved it back into the bag with a huff and kicked the whole thing back under the bed, ignoring the pain in your toe from hitting it too hard.  "Mind your own business."

"As much as I'd like to," Childe followed you back into the kitchen area while your mind was set on drying the dishes, "you've peaked my curiosity.  What're they for?"

"If you weren't snooping, I would've eventually told you," you grabbed one of the plates and a towel that sat to your left.  "But since you decided to peek I think its within my right not to tell you anything."

"Oh-ho?" Hot breath brushed past the top of your ear and his chest pressed against your back so you were practically cornered against the counter.  "Then I guess it's within my right to believe whatever I want about you then? No matter how obscene or dirty?"

"Quit playing games with me, Ajax!"  He could see how red your ears were, and your flustered state was more than apparent since heat was practically radiating off your back.  It seems he's learned something new about you; your pyro vision amplifies your flustered reactions...this information should be useful in determining any lies you might come up with.  "And back up, will you?  I c-can't move--"

"Tell me then," he teased.

"Ugh, I don't remember you being this annoying."  He heard you let out an agitated sigh before you slammed your towel down on the counter and replaced the dishes back to their normal spots in a cupboard.  "Can you keep a secret?"

Delighted to hear your cooperation, Childe nodded and allowed you to move freely again.  "I know a thing or two in keeping secrets."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you...but what I tell you stays between you and me.  And you can't tell the Millelith--"

"I swear it."

"Okay, good.  You already know how much I hate the Fatui," you took the liberty to throw yourself onto the couch and roll over so there was enough space for him to sit next to you.  "I may or may not be getting some much-needed revenge on them for all the crap they've done."

"Oh?  How so?"

"Let's just say I play some pranks on them."  Childe scrunched his nose up as he discerned what exactly you meant by that.  "Oh, don't bring up that missing Fatui stuff with me.  I've only heard about it from you; my involvement with the Fatui usually ends in them getting bruises or occasionally a broke bone."

"You've said you don't like to fight, but you sound like quite the troublemaker."

"I only fight if absolutely necessary.  Sooner or later the harbinger that tried to drown us all will turn up again, and when he does, he won't be excluded from my list."

"You have a list?"  The awkward laugh that left him sounded more nervous than intended.

"Er...not really.  Anyone that's Fatui is my target.  There's not a single good person in that organization."

"Is that so?"  Childe turned to your fireplace and thought to himself.  For a brief moment the friendly façade he put on faltered to reveal lifeless eyes.  But just as quickly as the mask cracked, it melded back together to form a smile.  "You may be right about that, ojou-chan!"

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

It appears she truly has no involvement with the missing persons reports, Childe reviewed all the information he gathered on you as he left your apartment and entered the bustling nightlife of Liyue's streets.  He had no intention of reprimanding you for your attacks against his men; you posed as little of a threat as a fly.  Of course, that determination of your abilities didn't stop him from wanting to spar with you; you may have a chance to surprise him, especially if you were fated to discover his real identity...Was it bad that the idea of you finding out excited him?  To face you head-on while you're in a fit of rage--that would be oh-so thrilling.

Oh!  For a split second he glanced back at your distant apartment window.  'Fire isn't something I want to play with.'  And she even neglected to summon a flame...The attacked don't even have a burn on them.  It was true that those wielding the same element would have a certain resistance to injuries made by that element, but to not have a single blister on them?  Either you were incredibly weak, or you've never used it on the agents.

To rely on your own physical strength in a world of elemental beings...you're a brave one aren't you, Reed?  Perhaps after all these years apart there was some part of you like him--one that was fearless against foes, one that charges into battle rather than run from it.  You were cautious--a trait he did not possess--and smart, too.  Whatever role you play now is sure to be an interesting one regardless of the outcome.

As for that small part of you that's like him...well, he'll have to drag it out.

"Master Childe!"  The harbinger visibly tensed and whipped his head in the direction of your apartment to ensure he was far away enough not to be seen by you.  "Sir!"

"Shh!"  A harsh glare shut the agent up, but realizing his actions, Childe played it off with a laugh.  "Aha...apologies!  Why don't we walk--"  He guided the agent away from your window's view.

"Master Childe," the man spoke in a hushed tone that made it obvious the shushing had intimidated him, "we seem to be having trouble contacting another one of our agents..."

Childe's face fell.  "It's late.  Are you sure it's not possible they're attending a dinner party, or perhaps an opera?"

"No, no.  We've been trying to get in touch with him all day, but he never answered his door.  He never asked for leave, either--"

"--Give me the address."

The housing setup for the Fatui in the Liyue Division was quite similar to that of Mond's--that is, agents were located in a single hotel during their deployment.  These living quarters overlooked most of the city and were located on the opposite side of town from your apartment.  It was quite the walk, so you often ended up hiding in the funeral parlor while furious agents scoured the streets in search of the vigilante during the early morning hours.  Perhaps an even greater advantage is that the hotel and the Northland Bank were about ten minutes apart from one another, giving you just enough time to escape the chaos before the agents could call for reinforcements.

Childe entered the missing agent's room alone.  He had sent the messenger back to wherever he came from; working alone would be much less distracting.  The room was dark and the only light source came from the open window to the right.  He didn't miss a beat to light the nearest candle and explore the room more.  

The place was neat--too neat for a bachelor agent in his twenties.  Everything was in its rightful spot, from the books strewn about to the weapons displayed along the walls.  Even the clothes were neatly folded in their drawers and the uniforms neatly hung in the closet.  On a second look, this was an abnormality.

You see, agents are given three of each uniform component to ensure consistency in case something were to happen to the clothing in battle.  To put it simply there were three coats, three pairs of gloves, three pairs of shirts and trousers alike, three pairs of boots, and three masks.  Each one was resting in the closet.

So he abandons his post without informing his lead officer, leaves his uniforms...Childe returned to the dresser and yanked the drawers out once more.  Everything that should be there, was.  And the clothes hamper next to the dresser was empty.  "He left with the clothes on his back?"  No, it's too soon to draw conclusions.  Still...this is how every missing agent would disappear.  No dirty dishes, untouched clothes, and their uniforms neatly put away.  It wouldn't raise any red flags if this hadn't happened before.

Childe scanned the room for the last time before he pinched the candle nub.  Every agent that disappears does so without a trace or clue of where they could've went.  Perhaps they're taken at night, after their shifts end or when they're enjoying Liyue's nightlife?  Reed couldn't have done this.  It's too elaborate even for her antics.  This is the work of something big...but what?

As he walked back to his apartment, he was unable to come up with the answers.

.........

"What festival is this again?"  Childe was glued to your side as the two of you strolled through the main street of the city.  It was lit up with lanterns that cast a warm glow upon his red hair.  Despite both of your busy schedules, your childhood friend still had the audacity to ask you to show him around the festivities since he had only recently moved his work to Liyue.  You were a bit reluctant at first, but this would be a great opportunity to get closer to him since your previous meetings were short.  And with the streets crowded with tourists and locals, it made Childe all the more difficult to be spotted by his subordinates.

"It's called the Lantern Rite," you answer with your gaze preoccupied by the fires lit beneath the stoves of the local restaurants.  "It's meant to celebrate the lives and sacrifices of the adepti."

"I see.  This is certainly different than Snezhnaya, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh."

Childe's eyes flicked down to you.  Why were you so disinterested?  Was he boring you? Or perhaps you weren't into festivities anymore?  His nose crinkled as he thought, then his nostrils picked up on a delicious aroma.  Seafood!  "How about I buy us something to eat?"

"Hm?  Like what?"  Your question was answered once you followed his stare, and your heart dropped.  The stall he was eyeing just happened to be next to some sort of stunt show.  That's new, you grumbled inwardly as you watched visionless people spin fire without a smidge of hesitation in their movements.  Since when were their performers during the Lantern Rite?

"How about something reminiscent of our homeland? I've been feeling a bit homesick these past few weeks."  He stepped forward, but your feet were planted firmly on the ground.  "Reed?"  

"...I'll wait here.  Go ahead."

The harbinger's shoulders slouched in disappointment.  Maybe you weren't in the mood to hang out with him after all.  Still, he wasn't the kind of guy to be dissuaded so easily; he picked himself back up and walked over to the vendor.  While he waited to be served, Childe admired the street performers that danced in the middle of the walkway.  They didn't have visions, yet they exuded themselves with such poise that most vision wielders lacked.  Their elegance inspired him, and he had a difficult time refraining from joining in.

The look of pure awe didn't go unnoticed by you, where you now stood in the shadows as far from the performers as possible.  He was definitely enjoying the show--a little more than you'd like.  Your gaze returned to the poi and staffs that were lit ablaze and twirling through the air.  And just like Childe's look of awe was noticed, your cynic stare was noticed by him as well when he was back with food.  

You hadn't even realized he returned.

"Your crab roe tofu, ojou-chan," he held the tray out for you to take.

"...thanks..."

A second glance to the fire wielders, and Childe confirmed his suspicions.  "Well this is certainly a surprise."  His chuckle yanked you back to the present.  "Ironic, too."  You snatched the tray away without saying anything and stuffed tofu into your mouth.  "What's a girl with pyrophobia doing with a pyro vision?  That seems a bit cruel even for the God of War and Flame."

"I-I'm not afraid of it."  Your skin flushed a faint pink at the words while you glared at him.

"You're not?  Then please explain why your stove and furnace have never been touched.  If you ask me, it's pretty obvious."  Your silence caught him off guard.  You always bantered back, but this time you couldn't even look in his direction.  

It was difficult to blink the tears away as the memory of a burning house flashed through your mind--the thick smoke that coated your lungs, the sticky heat that threatened to burn you alive, the screams of your mother...And when Ajax disappeared the next day too, only for you to think the Fatui had got him too--Or the memory of his return, and when you tell him the news of your father he didn't even care.

Does he even remember his response?

You weren't hungry anymore.  "I have a better way to spend the night.  How about we spar?"

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 19!! @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88

Ten minutes should have been more than enough. Then ten turned to fifteen and Splinter started to worry. When sirens started to sound off in the streets below, he could felt as if he had swallowed his heart and it was still beating while still in his stomach. His being churned with a cold nausea as scenarios ran his mind into a painful war zone.

“April…?” Splinter peered over the wall, his twitching nose betraying his anxiety. It stopped just in front of a pizzeria and the rescuers ran in with a stretcher. Then like a speeding bullet, out they came with an unconscious young girl held on the carrier between them. “APRIL!”

His immediate reaction was to run out to his daughter's aid. He had slung almost the entirety of his body over the wall before his mind could catch up to the actions of his body. There were so many people down there. New Yorkers watching and whispering as they watched the poor girl be taken away into the wailing vehicle. Splinter watched helplessly as it drove away. 

Slow as if he were made of stone, he pulled himself to hide behind the wall once more and curled into a tight ball to hide in the shadow. It was barely big enough to hide him anymore and quickly being eaten away by the sun, but it was enough for now. He couldn’t catch up. Even if he gage it his all and ran himself to the ground. He was old. He wasn’t Yoshi anymore, and this definitely wasn’t a movie.

She was going to a hospital. She was going to get help there and return to him when she was better. But she couldn’t do that if she didn’t know where he was! That’s how he justified him laying there helpless and silently brewing in his hurricane of self-hatred. He just had to hide and wait, like he’d done for fourteen years. Why, then, did this time feel so agonizingly impossible?

The sun hurt. It stung his eyes and almost seemed to burn his sensitive pink skin. He felt uncomfortable in the very fur covering his body. In all of fourteen years in this body, he could count the amount of times he’d been exposed to direct sunlight on two paws. He would be able to move a lot faster come night, without the sun to burn and blind him. If she didn’t returned by then, he told himself that he would go find her. It couldn’t be so hard, and he’d certainly had similar trials of difficult endeavors. For now, however, he was so tired mentally and physically that he just wanted to sleep. His family would be okay… they were okay… they were okay…

He couldn’t have been in that state for very long before he heard a faint, familiar hum. He rubbed his ears and silently cursed tinnitus before sliding his paws to his eyes for additional shelter. A second of thought later, he recognized that it wasn’t tinnitus— it was familiar to him in a different way.

“Blue…?” He lifted his paws from his muzzle and squinted up at two shadows staring down at him.

“Pops!”

Splinter grunted as the smaller of the shadows ran and scooped him up, powerful arms crushing him in a hug.

“Orange!” Hugged the box turtle in turn, “Blue!”

Splinter closed his eyes and gave a content sigh as Blue hugged both him and Orange.

“Dad. You okay?”

“Yes, I am fine. Oh, my boys…” Splinter teared up as he brought his paws to both of his sons’ cheeks and stroked them gently. 

Blue let his cheek be pet a moment longer before taking Splinter’s paw in his hand with gentle rubs of his thumb on the rat's palm. 

“Dad— where’s April? We thought she’d be with you.”

Splinter’s ears perked up slightly, but then quickly fell in response to the question. “I… she was. I don’t know what happened…”

“Do you know where she is?” Blue asked, his voice still happy and calm as he addressed the old rat, “I mean, she’s probably better off than us in the city, you know with this whole… situation.” 

“She… went to get food.” Splinter explained softly, then quickly changed the subject. “Where are your brothers? Where are Red and Purple?”

“Relax. They’re safe I promise.” Blue reassured with a pat to Splinter’s shoulder. “They’re… in the sewer. And Raph’s all patched up. We can go meet them after April gets back.”

“Did she just leave her bat here…?” Orange picked open the engraved bat and frowned as he turned it around in his hand. “She never leaves her bat… she loves this thing!”

“Not like she could bring it into a sushi bar, Miguel. Not even a skeevy burger joint would let her bring in a weapon! Probably safer to leave it here with dad anyway. When do you think she’ll be back? Cause we got a quad squad of angry Shrek’s on our shell that mean business and are even uglier than Raph.”

“What?” Splinter said sharply. “What Shrek’s?”

Blue hummed while he considered his words, and then said, “Eh, long story. So April?”

“She… I don’t know what happened. The ambulance took her…”

“What?” Blue’s cheery voice quickly shifted down an octave and Blue’s grip on his fathers shoulder tightened.

“Omigosh!”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know— she was fine when she left here.”

“How long ago?” Blue interjected sharply, “How long ago did they take her?”

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?” Splinter estimated. 

“Then she’d be at the hospital right now…” Blue put his odachi to his forehead to keep the sun out of his eyes as he looked around the city, “Closest hospital is… that one!” He pointed to a distant building that Splinter could barely make out. “I think. You stay here, pops. Mikey and I will go check on April.”

“None of you are going anywhere.”

At the new voice, Splinter felt his fur stand on end. He tried to push past Blue and Orange to put himself between them and whatever the massive four yokai were— big like Red, with an odd assortment of trinkets hanging from them like Orange usually had. Splinter see the outlines of shells— big, bulky shells. Kappa maybe? They were a bit oversized from the ones he was used to seeing in the Hidden City…

“Oh come on! Not these guys again!” Orange groaned. “I thought we gots rid of you!

“Pops, it's cool.” Blue said quickly, drawing Splinter from his thoughts of monsters. “They’re just egotistical show offs. Dad, meet the other turtles. Other turtles, my dad.”

One of the shorter shadows crouched down and offered a three-fingered hand. “Sorry to startle you, but your sons here have caused me and my brothers some trouble.”

As Splinter focused on the yokai’s face, he could start to make out the color of a blue mask and green skin. Other turtles? Splinter grunted, but accepted the hand. It was rough and callused from years of hard training and blistering skin, and the grip itself was firm.

“So, if you don’t mind, you and your sons really need to come with us.”

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

How about an au where punz doesn't show up during the disc War final

That was one of the first AUs I ever planned out in my head, eventually getting refined into my protege!innit AU. So here you go my lovely anon, here’s the concept, slightly refined. (Also, quick warning that Tommy does use some accidentally ableist language in this! Also, this is INCREDIBLY dark)

Tommy clung onto the headless body of Tubbo desperately, sobbing and sobbing and praying for somehow a way for him to come back, his cries echoing throughout the underground vault the only sound. Hands grasping onto his hair, stern but not harsh, barely brought him back into reality.

Dream sighed. “Tommy. Follow me.”

“No.”

His hair was tugged, harshly. “What do you mean, no?”

“No. I’m not coming with you.”

Dream held out the bloodstained axe, dripping with Tubbo's blood. It nearly made Tommy sick to see it again. “You don’t have a choice. Come with me or you will die here.”

“Maybe that's what I want! Maybe I’d rather die and be with Wilbur and Tubbo than be your fucking toy to torture or whatever!” Tommy shouted, the broken voice echoing.

Dream sighed again. “If you’re going to be difficult…”

The axe handle hit Tommy's head. All went black.

He woke up in a cell too dark and too bright, suffocatingly small and blistering hot with the heat of the lava. The yellow orange red mix was mesmerising. It should be so so easy to just touch it and end everything and go to whatever came after. It must be better than being a psycho bastard's personal punching bag.

He passed out from the pain when he tried to stand. He woke, again in the bed in the cell. It was surprisingly comfortable, better than the bed he had managed to put together in exile, and he hated it. That implied a level of permanence to his hell.

Wilbur's coat was gone, he noticed. He was pretty sure he was in a different set of clothes, too. He would not have the time to worry about those things soon.

(Meanwhile, a skull with ram horns and a bloodsoaked red and white hoodie and a patchwork longcoat wash up on the shores one day. They are taken to a home where a half-exploded beanie sits waiting for its wearer, and there are three extra seats at the table that will never be filled.)

Tommy had no idea how long he was alone in the cell. It could have been hours, days, weeks, an eternity. Time meant nothing, anymore. He still felt far too sick to leave the bed, the headache and bleeding from when his head was hit barely getting any better along with him feeling weaker and weaker, desperate for any water, any food.

He was certain he was going to die when he, half conscious, heard footsteps and was sat up on the headboard. Water was held to his lips, his throat and lips so dry he could barely take sips. When he’d finished the bottle, he was hand fed warm bread, so hungry it tasted like ambrosia on his tongue and so delirious he couldn’t even muster the energy to be angry he was being fed like an animal.

When warm hands were moved away, and he heard footsteps on the floor, Tommy let out a confused, animalistic chirp, barely aware what was going on but just knowing he didn’t want to be alone again. A laugh echoed from the walls, and a hand was run through his hair. Tommy leant in, purring like a cat. As he fell back into unconsciousness, all he could do was beg whoever was there in a voice scratchy and barely audible to please, please not leave him alone again.

He didn’t dream anymore. That was too much thought, hurting his head and making him almost sick, though he didn’t have enough food in him to be sick anymore. He just let himself be consumed by the darkness, and he slept well for the first time in a while.

He was alone again when he woke. Almost alone. A ghostly figure sat cross-legged at the lava keeping him prisoner, the green of his shirt almost invisible through the red stained blood, and his head in his hands and not on his neck. Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going mad already or if this was like Ghostbur, but either way he felt less alone with the ghostly form of Tubbo with him.

Ghost Tubbo disappeared when the lava parted, Dream entering into Tommy's prison. Tommy glared at the masked man, and he laughed. “Last time I was here, you were begging me to stay.”

Tommy felt himself turn red slightly at the memory of that, but continued glaring. “Fuck off.”

“Tommy, don’t speak to me like that or you’re not going to be able to eat today.” Dream said, with the tone Wilbur got when he used to tell off Tommy when he was doing something stupid. It made Tommy's blood boil.

“I don’t care,” he said, even as his throat ached and stomach throbbed. “Just let me die.”

Dream shook his head. “You’re too fun.”

Tommy growled. “And you’re a fucking sociopa-“

Tommy's cut off to hands around his neck, claws digging in deep enough to bleed. “I’d advise you listen, Tommy.” Dream said, voice as cheerily calm as always. “Or I’ll make you listen.”

Tommy sputtered for breath when his neck was released. “What do you want?”

“I just want to spend time with my only friend. Is that so hard to believe?” He laughs at Tommy's disbelieving expression, looking for the hidden meaning in the words. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? You know, things would be much easier if you stopped trying to defy me.”

(By the time Dream left, Tommy was holding a broken nose, black eyed and bruised, starving, and defiance in his eyes slightly dimmed.)

Life fell into a sickening routine. When Dream wasn’t there, Tommy slept. He was too dehydrated to cry anymore, so he just stared at the wall when he was awake. Ghost Tubbo was there, sometimes. When Tommy dared speak to him, he was mechanical, emotionless, entirely dedicated to protecting Tommy but painfully aware he couldn’t do anything but watch.

When Dream was, he’d bring food and water. Most of it ended up discarded, Tommy being deemed as too disobedient to deserve it. Sometimes he gave in and acted good being so desperate and hated himself for it. On those days, Dream talked with him, messed with his hair and hugged him and treated him with a twisted form of the affection Tommy recognised from Wilbur, or maybe Phil. On most days, Tommy was “punished.“

He’s not sure how long it took, but Tommy noticed as he slowly lost sight in one of his eyes as he took more and more blows to the head, how his left arm started hanging completely limp after being broken one too many times, how the web of scars covering his entire body only grew, both larger and deeper.

The first time Tommy died, it was unintentional. His head was hit against the obsidian, and something inside him broke, and he’s dead before he could even realise he’s dying. He wasn’t sure whether the afterlife is better or worse. It’s dark, and empty, and Wilbur is frightening, but there’s Tubbo- the Tubbo he knew, not the dull eyed ghost who as Tommy had learnt from Ghostbur was a separate entity.

It’s a month in the afterlife, apparently, before he’s brought back, the cell a mess of colour and noise and heat and touch and all of it too much, too much. Dream is excited, enthusiastic, asked him everything he can about the afterlife. Tommy refused to talk, and the slap across the face he received was a far, far, worse pain than gouging claws and broken limbs. He talked after that, through pained tears.

After that, it became a part of the routine he grew worryingly accustomed to. Like clockwork, every thirty visits he was killed, and like clockwork, he was always revived after one month in the afterlife, one day outside it. Dream asked him inane, weird questions about the afterlife. Sometimes he took Tommy's blood, sometimes he gave him weird injections. Dream was always weirdly kind on those days, and Tommy grew to long for them in a twisted way. He hated himself for it.

Bruises grew around his neck, refusing to heal. Deep deep cuts on his neck and his wrists stayed open, bleeding slightly when touched. Stab wounds and axe cuts covering his torso did the same. His hair turned white in chunks. Dream started dying it blond. It hurt and got into his wounds on his head. He learnt to tolerate it because when he squirmed and tried to get away it upset Dream and that's worse.

It’s easier to behave, so he does. He barely talked for a while, but he learnt that’s another thing that upset Dream. He bit his tongue and pretended it’s Wilbur, it’s Phil when Dream held him in his arms and ruffled his hair and talked gently to him. One day he brought in a jukebox and played the discs. It reminded Tommy of a time before the cell. He couldn’t remember the colour of grass or how the sunset looked. He hated it. Dream offered him the discs if he behaved, later on. Tommy grabbed them from his hands and shattered the plastic in two, because he didn’t want them, he didn’t want them to even exist because what was the fucking point of caring about anything anymore? Not discs, not people, not anything. Dream laughed and laughed.

(A ghostly teen, head held in his arm, gathered the shards. He stood at the door of a snowy house, uncaring of the pain as his body dissolved in it, not even reacting. When inside, he explains, monotone, to a paling looking angel and a crowned anarchist who’s hunger for blood increased by each word.)

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

In the Heat of the Fire....

Fireman!Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Warnings: description of fire, brief mention of hospitals, mention of depressive feelings, angst, fluff mention of smut and mention of pregnancy. NSFW 18+

Word count: 2585

Summary: Your flat catches fire and you’re saved by a dashing young Fireman who then takes you under his wing when you have nothing left.

You coughed, your eyes still shut as you rolled over in bed. You frowned, unable to take a deep breath you coughed again, this time it wracked your body violently and you finally opened your eyes. At first you couldn't see anything as it was dark, but as your eyes adjusted and you woke up you could see and smell the smoke. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to water, you got out of bed, finally seeing the orange glow under your bedroom door, you grabbed a top and held it over your mouth before opening the door. You cried out as pain flared from your palm, the door handle was so hot it made your skin blister but you didn’t have time to even register it as the fire surged towards you, licking into your bedroom like it had been starved of air.

Panic began to bubble up inside you as you backed away in horror from the roaring inferno. You opened your window coughing and spluttering the more intense smoke, you could see the blue lights below you from the fire engines and the group of people from your building. You tried to call out but your throat was so sore you could barely form words let alone shout over the noise. You saw someone break away from the crowd and grabbed a firefighter, they pointed at you vigorously as you slid down the wall and out of sight. Your chest was tight, you could feel yourself becoming light headed and the smell assaulting your nostrils was making you feel sick. The fire was making its way round your bedroom and tears began to track their way down your face as you shook with fear. You thought of your parents, your friends even your work colleagues as you felt the heat roil around you.

Is this what the desert feels like? You felt a giggle try to erupt from you but all you could was cough, each time you did your head swam and your body ached as you slouched even more. The fire was close now, the blistering heat making your turn away as it consumed your bed, billowing more smoke into the room obscuring everything from sight.

You tried to gasp as hands reached out of the smoke and grabbed you, placing a mask hurriedly over your face. You gripped onto the rough coat of the firefighter as he lifted you up in his arms.

‘Cover your face.’ You pulled the top you had completely over your face tucking yourself as close to him as you could. ‘I’ve got you.’ Pain blossomed from your burnt hand but you tried to ignore it knowing you didn’t want your grip to fail. You tensed as the heat increased, surrounding you with a blazing intensity as he carried you bravely through your burning flat. You could feel him heading down the stairs and finally the cool air of the night kissed your skin. More hands grabbed you putting you on a stretcher, asking you questions, shining lights in your sore eyes but you didn’t let go of the firefighter who had pulled you from the building. Your vision swam as he took his mask off, he was talking to someone and then suddenly he was getting in the ambulance with you. Your body started tensing all over as you convulsed on the stretcher and the last thing you heard was a paramedic shouting.

The beeping noise was annoying. It cut through your grogginess waking you up with a start as the sounds of flames roaring echoed in your mind.

‘Hey, it’s ok.’ You turned to the voice beside you as saw a guy, he had a firefighters coat on and his helmet was sat on the table next to you, his face was still dirty with soot and all you could smell was smoke. You tried to speak but you ended up coughing into your mask, you winced at the ache from your chest and you settled back down against the pillows. He cast a look over the screens around you before resting his deep brown eyes on you again. ‘The doctors will be round to talk to you soon, they’re pleased with how well you’re doing considering the amount of smoke exposure you had.’ You found yourself relaxing at the sound of his voice as you gazed at him, this was the man who saved you. You owed him your life. The door opened to your room and some doctors came in, the nurse took some blood and they spouted some information at you but you couldn’t really take it in as you searched for the firefighters for reassurance. He smiled a lopsided smile and nodded slightly letting you know he was still there and you smiled slightly back, hoping he wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

After a few days the hospital released you, the fireman, who’s name you learnt was Poe, he visited as often as he could and now he was picking you up and taking you back to the flat to see if you could salvage anything. He had warned you it wasn’t pretty and he was right. You stood outside the building, your bandaged hand aching just at the sight of the block, black soot was smeared on the brickwork from all the windows and you could see your bedroom window. Poe put a hand on your back as he surveyed the damaged building with you.

‘You don’t have to go in.’ You lent into his touch slightly as you looked at his handsome face. You’d only known him a few days but he had saved your life and was offering emotional support so you weren’t on your own. You didn’t have anyone else really, your parents lived far away, your friends were great but you mostly kept to yourself immersing yourself in work all the time.

‘I need to.’ You walked towards the door, ignoring the panic crawling over your skin making you want to run in the opposite direction. You finally made it to your flat, the smell burnt your nose as you walked around. Smoke, melted plastic and dampness all mingled into a hideous musty aroma that made you feel slightly ill. One look around told you nothing could be saved, your kitchen cupboards hung off the wall in a haphazard way, everything was burnt or smeared with soot and you knew the smell would never come out of whatever you took away. You stopped at the doorway of your bedroom, your bed was just a mass of twisted blackness and you could see the path the flames had taken. The echo of flames made you tense but suddenly Poe was there, his comforting presence washing over you as he closely watched your reaction.

‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’ He asked softly.

‘Er, no. I haven’t really thought about it. I could ask a friend I guess.’ Tears threatened to well up in your eyes and you blinked them away, not wanting to fall apart right now.

‘You’re not going to find anything here, why don’t you come back to my place? I’ve got to go to work soon so you can have the run of my flat.’

‘I barely know you.’ You said and he smiled.

‘True, but I did save your life. The least you could do is cook a meal for me,’ he said with amusement in his tone.

‘Are you being serious? Right now?’

‘Yes, perfectly serious.’ You looked at him as you stood in the ruined tatters of your life and you felt a rush of gratefulness that however roughly he’d been shoved into your life, he’d still been shoved into your life for a reason.

‘Sure. Ok. I need to go shopping though, I need clothes.’

‘Come on,’ he put an arm around your shoulders as he led you out of the burnt flat. ‘I’ll take you shopping.’

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

And so the days turned into weeks and Poe had given you his spare room, you had gone back to work as you waited for the insurance money to come in and he had long shifts at the station so you didn’t see each other very often but when you did you’d watch a film and have a home cooked meal. The longer you stayed with him you could feel your affection grown for him, he was good looking, funny, cocky but kind as well. Being with him made you realise how lonely you actually were.

You were standing in the kitchen frying some chicken and peppers, the wraps warming in the oven as you grated the cheese, tonight was fajita night. The door slammed shut announcing his arrival but he didn’t stop and greet you like he usually did. He walked past you without a word and you instantly knew something was wrong, you cleaned your hands off before approaching his bedroom door.

‘Poe?’ You knocked gently but you got no response. ‘Poe? What happened?’ You steeled yourself, feeling bold you opened his door to find him kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped around him as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He looked up at you a desperate look on his face and you knew today had been a bad day. Without thinking you got down on the floor with him, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he embraced you just as roughly. His entire body shook and the words started tumbling out of him, his voice wavering as still he tried not to cry.

‘I tried, I couldn’t get to her. The fire was too much. I could hear her screaming for me and I couldn’t get to her, I couldn’t get to her,’ a sob finally choked its way out of him and you could feel wetness on your neck as his soft curls brushed against your face.

‘It’s not your fault,’ you whispered as you held him. You looked back at the door painfully aware the frying pan was on. ‘Come into the kitchen with me or dinner will be burnt.’ He got up with you and you noticed as you finished cooking he tried to stay as close to you as possible, a dark haunted look in his eyes as he watched you prepare the food. You led him to the sofa as he looked at the food on the plate but he didn’t pick it up. ‘Poe,’ he looked up at you worrying his bottom lip.

‘Can we, can you….would you sleep with me tonight?’ His eyes widened as he realised what it sounded like and he began to try and stammer his way out of it. ‘I mean...I just… comfort….just hugs….’

‘Poe. Yes I will.’ He sighed with relief and finally he started eating.

You cleared up not letting him help and he stood by the hallway as he waited for you, once you’d turned the dishwasher on he reached for you. His touch tentative as your fingertips brushed his, you studied his face and gently brushed his curls off his forehead.

‘You ready?’ He nodded and tugged you with him leading you to his bedroom. He pulled his top off but left his joggers on as he slipped into bed, you were already in loungewear so you slipped in next to him. Without hesitating he grabbed you, pulling you flush against him as his warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck. You buried your hands in his curls as you sighed softly enjoying the feel of being close to someone. You thought he was asleep at one point until his hand moved lightly down your back and causing you to arch against him. His face pulled away from you and you saw the dark look in his eyes in the dim light, your heart hammered inside your chest as you traced the lines of his face. His hand slid up your arm and traced the line of your neck burying his fingers on your hair. Your body reacted instantly, desire racing through you as the heat of his body melded with yours. His lips pressed gently against you and you couldn’t help but groan into him. The desperate need for comfort took you both over as you striped quickly, coming together in a clash of limbs, unspoken words and heated craving. You took what you needed from each other hard and fast, just lost in the feel of one another until you were both spent finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

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

And so your relationship blossomed, some days it was amazing, until the arguments started. His job took a lot out of him, having lost his own mother in a fire he seemed to have this need to save everyone he came across, more than his colleagues. He would take unnecessary risks, putting his own life on the line more than anyone else everyday. You began to fear you were losing him, and even though you respected what he did and understood why he did it you couldn’t accept the risks he was taking. You had a massive row the worst you’d ever had leaving you crying on the floor as he left for work not coming back until the next day. You stayed up all night going over the argument thinking what you could have said instead, wondering if you were being unreasonable or if he was just a reckless person with no regard for himself. The sun rose warming your legs as you sat rigid on the sofa when the front door opened. He closed it quietly and you turned to see him in his uniform.

‘I couldn’t leave it like that. I’m sorry.’ You nodded and got off the sofa, his eyes watched you wearily as you approached him.

‘I’m sorry too.’ He pulled you into a tight embrace, crushing his lips to you trying to get across how sorry he really was when a radio crackled.

‘Dameron get down here we’ve had a call.’

‘Go, just be careful.’ He smiled at you, that devilish lip sided smile you’d grown to love so much.

‘I promise I’ll be careful because now I have something to live for.’ The door shut behind him, his words still lingering in the air around you.

‘I love you,’ you whispered to the empty room.

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

Rain beat down on your umbrella as you stared down at the ground, the echo of your memories tormenting you everyday. You placed a hand on your swollen belly feeling the life stirring inside you as you read the words on the stone before you, your eyes tracing them like they had a million times before. Grief gripped you tightly as tears threatened to fall, it had been 8 months without him by your side. 8 months of coming home to an empty flat. 8 months of crying yourself to sleep as you hugged his favourite clothes. And now a whole new chapter of your life yawned before you with promises of life and giggles, tiny hands and feet gripping your clothes and a little person loving you with their whole heart. But you had to do it alone.

‘I miss you Poe,’ your voice cracked as you put a hand on the headstone wishing with all your might he was still here at your side. You hated leaving him alone in the cold ground and you swore your child would know what a brave man her father was.

He’d never be forgotten.

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[pillage-and-lute]

Consider: Geralt.Exe has some difficulty understanding Jaskiers dress sense; like he wears pants that are cut off above his ankles, and his travel cloak is bright but is NOT weatherproof. Can’t his bard afford good things? Does he spend all his money on Geralt and roach and not have any left to take care of himself? Geralt tries to help and gets Jask practical clothes but Jask sometimes wears the other things to events and he doesn’t understand until Jask explains fAshION DarLiNG

Hi Silvermidnightprincess!

I’m behind on my askbox and this took me too long but it’s here!

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Geralt is fretting. He knows this. But he’s not going to stop until he gets to the bottom of the issue. Jaskier is wearing boots, but they aren’t the boots Geralt bought him a week ago. 

Almost two weeks ago Geralt had noticed that Jaskier’s boots were no good for travel. Kind of...pointy at the toe, a bit of heel, and the leather was poor quality. It was all shiny and bright but they were bad for walking. Geralt had worried for the bard’s feet and bought some good boots for him. Contracts were going well, there was certainly enough coin to make sure his companion didn’t get blisters.

But here, in this tavern, Jaskier was dancing about in the shiny, pointy boots, strumming his lute and stomping his feet. Then Geralt noticed the pants. They were well made and colorful, but too thin. Even in this rather closely packed tavern, the weather outside was chilly and damp. The silk looked attractive in the low light, dully glowing and the embroidery was done in something shiny and caught attention. Nevertheless, the pants were too thin. 

Couldn’t Jaskier afford warm clothes? Summer had been wet and unusually chilly this year and now autumn was closing in, if he didn’t have warmer clothes before Geralt left for Kaer Morhen he’d surely freeze in the winter. 

A horrible image appeared in Geralt’s mind. Jaskier in his bad boots and thin clothes all curled up against the snow, caught in a blizzard between some village and the next. 

Of course Geralt wouldn’t let that happen. Jaskier was happily strumming away and the patrons seemed friendly enough, so Geralt slipped away. 

A few streets away there were clothing shops, but they were all full of the sorts of things Jaskier had, shiny, light clothes and bad, pointy boots. Another street over and he found a second hand shop run by a cheerful, plump woman with three teeth and frizzy grey hair rapidly escaping her bun.

She grinned at him. “Buy or sell, sweetie?” she said.

Geralt felt a little dumbstruck. He must have looked it too because she cackled at him.

“I’m guessing you want to buy, yes?” She hopped off her stool and began rummaging. “I don’t know what all I have for a big boy like you.” She gave him an appraising look. “My second husband was about your size I think, but I haven’t any of his things.”

“I’m not shopping for myself,” Geralt managed. “My friend needs a new cloak, something warm for winter.”

“Hmmm,” said the lady. “Wool would be right, so’s it’s warm even if it’s wet.” She began rummaging along a different rack. Geralt looked absently at the rack next to him. 

“Aha!” said the woman, holding up a brown cloak triumphantly. Geralt wrinkled his nose. Some chemical had been used to keep moths away. It was a good cloak though, thick and made to last. Geralt happily shelled out what the woman asked for it, not bothering to haggle. There was a glint to her grin that told him he wouldn’t win if he tried. She folded it up in some brown paper and rough, hairy twine. Geralt tucked the package under his arm, thanked the shopkeeper and walked back to their room in the inn.

It was a very small room, and it smelled of mildew. The inn was much too small to offer baths too, but Geralt schucked off his boots and sat on the bed, sinking in to meditate.

Maybe a half hour later Jaskier clattered up the rickety stairs and Geralt slipped back in from semi-consciousness to the sound of the pointy boots on the plank floor. 

“You missed the last half of my performance,” Jaskier pouted, flopping dramatically onto the bed. 

“Went shopping,” Geralt grunted. He proffered the parcel.

“For me?” Jaskier pulled at the twine. He held up the brown cloak and looked at it.

“You don’t have a warm cloak, all your clothes are just bright and thin,” Geralt said, feeling some explanation was needed. Jaskier was giving him a look, but he couldn’t tell what sort of look it was, so he continued. “And I thought, with winter coming on...”

“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier said, trying the cloak on. “I suppose I am prone to fashion before function.”

“Fashion,” Geralt said a little blankly.

“Yes, dear heart, fashion,” Jaskier said, wrapping the brown cloak around himself like a blanket, then twirling to see the fabric spin out. “I trust you are familiar with the concept.”

Of course Geralt was, but the idea very rarely featured in his day-to-day life. Jaskier must have seen something in his face, however, because he crossed to the bed and sat by Geralt.

“I wear your lovely comfy boots on the road most of the time,” he said. “But I’m a bard, and part of my job is looking bright and being noticed, the same way much of your job it holding swords. Clothes can be a weapon too, sometimes.”

Geralt knew his expression was skeptical but didn’t bother masking it. Jaskier chucled and patted his face.

“I’m often at court in the winters, I don’t need warmth but the right clothes tell people a lot about you. If I have the right doublet on I’m in at the high table, I get the best job offers and invitations. The wrong clothes can see me insulted or ostracized.”

“So the shiny boots...?” Geralt said, undertanding the vauge concept, but the details were jogging behind in his mind.

“The shiny boots look good, which is part of my job,” Jaskier confirmed. “But the boots you got me aren’t for performing, they’re for walking, and I’m very glad to have them...and the lovely warm cloak.”

Geralt settled in for bed, Jaskier’s familiar routine creating an ambient silence of lots of little noises. He supposed that now, question answered, he could stop fretting. He wouldn’t he knew, he’d probably always fret when it came to Jaskier. 

And court sounded awful, a trap of social ques and bitchy nobles. And Jaskier could be safe and comfortable elsewhere, without the pressures of his job. Geralt knew he loved performing, but he could perform somewhere else, with a less judgmental crowd...like Kaer Morhen. And the keep had a good library, plenty of poetry no one had bothered to appreciate for years...

“Jaskier?” he said.

“Hmmm,” the bard said, sleepily from the other, narrow bed. 

“I think the cloak will be useful this winter, when you come with me to Kaer Morhen...if you want to, I mean.”

Jaskier sat up. “Really?”

“Really,” Geralt said. “Now sleep.”

Jaskier fell back, and Geralt began a list in his mind. His bard would need gloves, probably a hat, warmer shirts...and sleep claimed him. In the corner, the brown cloak sat, draped over the back of the chair, waiting for use.

[chuuyasnumber1simp]

Warm Touches Melt Cold Stares  Akutagawa x fem reader

A/N- because it’s me, and I love writing it, you better bet this gonna be hurt/comfort, and angsty at that. This what I write when I have no requests lol so get ready for the pain train. This is gonna be an ongoing fic btw.

This time, reader is going to have anxiety and bipolar depression, two things I can write well because I have them. If you want to see something else from me feel free to drop a request!

(Reader is 19)

Warnings: Mentions of Self Harm, Attempted Sexual Assault

Word Count: 2706

You were cold. 

But then again, you always were. 

Not towards people, not physically-  that which surprised people based on your ability. 

You hugged your arms closer to your body, feeling the telltale pinpricks of frost letting you know your ability activated. 

It was comforting, in a way. The coldness that surrounded your body, it was the only thing letting you know that you were here, and not still asleep, floating in the inky black of your dreams. You preferred the endless ocean of black to your current waking world, marred by emptiness and fear.       

You liked to pretend that the numbness that filled you somedays could merely be explained by being a result of your ability. Like your brain was slowly becoming frostbitten. On the days you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror, you often wondered why the temperature of your skin didn't match how you felt.    

Some days you woke up and felt as if something had melted the ice encasing your insides, your brain. That maybe, you would get better. Then, sometimes on the same day,    

You didn’t want to die, yet you couldn’t find  reason to continue this life that you lead. That was the reason you kept waking up, day after day, always reaching out to find maybe just a glimpse of purpose. You had believed your ability was a gift, when you were a child. A stupid, naïve child you were, to believe it was anything but a curse. That’s what you parents thought, when you manifested your ability. At first, all had gone well.  When you were little, you didn’t know that frost and ice can burn someone if it’s cold enough. 

You didn’t know that being too cold would cause hypothermia, and death. 

You were just a stupid, naïve child, who froze her parents to death, completely unaware of what she’d done. You didn’t know how or why, the memory's becoming more foggy with time. Your grandparents had taken you in after that, and they were kind. But even they could overcome your hesitance, your fear of being close enough to anyone to bring harm.

Prior to arriving in Yokohama, you had let your guard down, just for a moment. No one at work knew of your ability, you had kept it a secret for fear of peoples reactions. 

Another stupid mistake. 

You had a boyfriend, and you were happy. That was one of the longest times the coldness went away. 

But one day, you had gotten into an argument, over something stupid. You couldn’t even remember what now. He tried to leave, walk away from the argument, and in your anger, you reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

You’ll never forget the scream that ripped through the house. 

It was like your parents all over again. 

Around his wrist, there was a massive blister, red and swelling, about the size of your hand. He had fallen to to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming. 

So you ran. 

Ran out of his house, left your grandparents, left behind everything you knew. You took the bus as far away as you could, leaving you in Yokohama. 

You vowed to never use your ability again. At least, not on anyone else. You wondered if there had been a police investigation back in your hometown, or if anyone even tried to find you. 

You doubted it. 

So here you were, looking for an apartment in Yokohama, having arrived three days ago. 

You still had access to your bank account, and have been paying for a hotel room. It was cheap and crappy, but at least it was somewhere to sleep. People there didn’t ask why you wore a mask, and they didn’t ask why you had gloves on in spring. But it was, unfortunately for, where certain unsavory characters liked to be. 

You were trying to walk back to your hotel room, after a rather unfulfilling day, when a group of four men whistled and shouted as you walked by. As a woman, you were used to this. You ignored them and continued, but when you heard their footsteps after you, you walked a little faster, subconsciously allowing frost to cover your fingers. Your heart beat quickened as you walked past your room, hoping that someone would notice your current predicament. 

This was the downfall of everyone turning the other cheek. Situations like these were commonplace, and even the staff did not get involved. At this point, you were flat out running, almost tripping down the stairs in your haste to escape them. They followed after, relentless. 

You felt your heart sink as the stairs you had gone to had not lead to the lobby, but the laundry room and staff exit. 

The staff exit was locked, and the laundry room was empty. 

No one would come to your aid here. 

“Well well well, what do we have here. Someone’s a little feisty. But I think this going to have to be the end of the road for you,”

The men boxed you in against the wall the one speaking before trying to grab your arms. You squirmed and wiggled, trying your hardest to wrench yourself free from his grasp. Someone from the back  pressed a blade against your throat, instantly halting all motion. 

“That’s better pretty lady. Now hold still for me,”

You tried to scream, but the second you opened your mouth someone roughly shoved a wadded up shirt in it, muffling all noises. 

The man pinning your arms shoved his knee in between your legs, forcing them apart. On instinct, you let your ability -and fear- take over, and watched as the frost from your arms spread to his. He yelled and dropped his arms, giving you the moment to knock the knife from the other mans hand, and made a break for the stairs. 

“Not so fast,”

Someone kicked your ankle just as you had made it to the stairs, causing you to fall and slam your face into them. Despite the tears flowing down your cheeks and the blood that dripped from your nose, you attempted to crawl upwards, only to be yanked backwards and throw back to the wall. 

You lay there dazed, your vision swimming as the men surrounded you once more. You closed your eyes and felt a small, cold tear slide out of your eye, resigning yourself to your fate. 

“Excuse me gentlemen, but that’ll be enough now. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to respect women?”

You heard a voice from the staircase, and watched as a man with orange hair and a fedora descended the steps, a red aura glowing around him. 

“And who do you think you are?” the man who held the knife at you spoke. 

“Chuuya Nakahara, executive to the Port Mafia,”

The men seemed to flinch at his name, though you had no idea who he, or the Port Mafia were. 

“Listen, I don’t care if you run the Port Mafia, mind your own business,” 

“I really wish you hadn’t said that. Akutagawa, over here!”

Another man came down the stairs, covering his mouth with his hand. They both looked intimidating, and you curled in on yourself, as if that would do anything to protect yourself. 

“Rashomon,” 

When the man with the black jacket spoke, something black and red, almost like cloth, or elastic, pierced the man who spoke against Chuuya, and was flung across the room. After that, the rest of them scattered, obviously not willing to die at the hands of this cold ability user. 

Yanking the shirt out of your mouth, you crawled backwards, whimpering quietly as Chuuya approached you. Back pressed flat against the wall, you ice spread like wildfire, some of it even spreading across the carpet. Akutagawa’s eyes widened slightly with curiosity, and you subconsciously willed your ice to grow more, small icicles forming on your arms and the walls. Chuuya continued to advance on you, albeit more slowly than before, and your ice grew more in response, your breath materializing at the drop in temperature.

He stopped about five feet away from you, arms up in a show of good will. 

“Hey hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,”

“Would you like to come with us? I don’t believe you’d be that safe here, and we can help you with your ability,”

“How do I know you aren’t going to kill me? Or try to do what those guys did?”

“If we were going to do that, wouldn’t we have already done that?”

You internally thought he was right, but you were skeptical about following two random men. One of which just killed someone right in front you. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I have any reason to trust you?”

Chuuya sighed. “Listen. I can leave you here to these guys, who’ll probably be back, or you can come with us and have an actually safe place to sleep. Your choice,”

Standing up on shaky legs, you looked at the other man. He stood still, and showed no emotion on his face. He looked almost annoyed, as if he was really going out of his way to save you. 

“I-i’ll go. But on one condition,”

Akutagawa turned to you, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I don’t think you understand. We’re helping you. You are not in a position to negotiate right now,”

You swayed on your feet a bit before speaking, you assumed your body was not taking your ordeal and the below freezing temperatures your ability was producing.

“It’s not anything big. I j-just need someone to accompany me to my room so I can get my stuff. I don’t want to be alone,”

Part of you laughed at your words, mocking the irony of always making sure you never got close to anyone, even now, with your ice spreading quickly, and yet here you were, practically begging for someone to be with you, so you wouldn’t be alone.

Pathetic. Look at you, you were always so good at hurting people, so why have you failed now? Maybe the Chuuya and Akutagawa shouldn’t have come, and just let them men have they’re way with you. You would have deserved it. You—

“Sure. Akutagawa can go with you,”

Chuuya’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, and he gave you a warm smile that made you trust him a little more.

Akutagawa still looked mildly annoyed, but he seemed to hold a lot of respect for Chuuya, so you figured he would not do anything to you if he was under Chuuya’s orders.

The walk up to your room was silent, and uncomfortably so. Your ability was still going all over the place, so every time your foot touched the floor little shards of ice would stick up. Your body temperature had to be freezing by now, your skin covered in goosebumps. Your ability made the effects of freezing temperatures easier to withstand, but it did not make you immune to them. While a normal person could survive in freezing temperatures for 15 to 45 minutes, you could withstand them for about 30 minutes to 2 hours, depending on just how freezing the temperatures were. But, if the temperature of your ice dropped lower than freezing, the rate of your survival dropped drastically, to about 20-40 minutes.

Stress made it hard to control your ability, thus the reason you had burned your boyfriend and why you were struggling to control it now.

You tried to control your breathing, to stabilize your mental state somehow, but the more you attempted to the harder it gave to inhale oxygen.

You were sweating despite the cold, and at this point you sounded like you were dying with all the wheezing and coughing. Panic was setting in as you tried to gulp in air, but it wasn’t working.

You bit back a scream when a pale hand made contact with your shoulder, and you looked up to see a rather uncomfortable looking Akutagawa, who seemed to be trying to offer comfort during your panic attack.

The look on his face was almost comical, how uneasy he looked touching another human being. Finally, you did start to calm down, and managed to make it into your dingy room.

Akutagawa opted to stand outside the room, and having him there did make you feel safer.

You could still feel the ghost of fingers lingering on your body, and your shoved your clothes into your backpack with more vigor than before, hoping to get out of this place as fast as humanly possible. You frost had calmed down for the time being, allowing you to love more freely, no longer being constricted by the binds of cold.

You realized that you must have looked near homeless, a pair of black jeans with a rip starting on the knee, and an oversized grey sweatshirt you had owned since sixteen. The letters had long since faded, and you could see where you had patched it back up time after time, but it was the warmest and most comfortable thing you owned.

You stepped out of the room, greeting Akutagawa with a nod. Sometime when you were changing, Chuuya had shown up, and he was explaining something to Akutagawa in a hushed tone. He greeted you with a dip of his hat when you closed the door, reminding you of a gentleman from an older era.

The feeling of your gloves back on your hands was comforting, though you still hung back slightly, always making sure there was a couple feet’s worth of distance between you and anyone else.

The lobby clerk practically kept out of his seat when he saw Akutagawa and Chuuya, and everyone waiting parted like the red sea, allowing the three of you to walk through with ease.

There was a sleek black car that you spotted immediately, it looked very out of place amongst every other car in the parking lot. Chuuya didn’t seem like the kind of person to be inconspicuous.

You felt awkward about climbing into the immaculately clean car with your dirty clothes. You had at least showered, although rather quickly, since for some reason the hot water didn’t work. 

You sat in the backseat alone, Akutagawa driving and Chuuya sitting in the passenger seat. 

The car was silent, and the tension was palpable. You still had no idea what the Port Mafia was besides the obvious, that they were a mafia. What they did, and how they could help you with your ability was what you didn’t understand. Why would they help you? It’s not like you had any money, and you absolutely no battle training whatsoever. It’s not like you had held a gun before either. You had some practice with knives, but that was so long ago you didn’t think you could recall how to hold a knife properly. This was the main reason for not completely trusting these men, because people who didn’t have use or purpose were disposed of. 

Not willing to push their patience, you didn’t question anything, and simply allowed them to drive you to wherever they were going. They could be kidnapping you, and it would probably be your fault. 

What am I even doing here? Following two random dudes i don’t know, to the MAFIA where they’re going to make me do GOD KNOWS what. I could be raped, murdered, or tortured! I was just almost raped for god’s sake, and the first thing i do is go with strangers? This is literally EXACTLY what grandpa told me not to do. I’m stupid, stupid, I’m going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere, oh god why do i have to be so stupid--

“Hey Y/N? we’re here,”

It was only then did you see Chuuya waving a hand in front of your face, and you flushed slightly hoping you hadn’t been sitting like that for too long. 

A very tall building stood before you, smack in the middle of Yokohama. You guessed that since it was so prominent, people would never believe that it was the headquarters for the Port Mafia. Or, the Port Mafia just didn’t care. 

Akutagawa beaconed you over, and you swallowed thickly, unsure of what would happen when you entered this building. 

A/N: Heyoo!! im really proud of this, im sorry of Akutagawa seemed a bit ooc, i tried hard to establish his feelings and personality without writing him off as a tsundere, or making him a cold jerk. Ah, the woes of writing. 

Anyway, sorry i posted this instead of the newest chapter for the Chuuya fic. I can’t get past one scene for it, I've legit re-wrote it like seven times. So, to get over my writers block, i decided to finally publish this! The moodboard and first chapter have been in my drafts for awhile, so i decided to finally post them. Hope ya’ll like it!

[svtshine]

Bandages

pairing: Soonyoung x reader

genre: Soulmate!au, fluff

type: oneshot

ability: you can feel and experience the same pain as your soulmate. When you meet each other for the first time, your wounds would start to heal

Extra: Requests are welcomed guys ^^

It started when you were young. You didn’t exactly remember what happened but the aches, bruises just started forming for no reason. As a child, you took a liking to music and different instruments such as the Violin and the Piano. The most “pain” you felt from playing them constantly were aching in the fingers. You didn’t understand why there were bruises that formed on different parts of your body. You’d frequently wake up to the sight of a new bruise forming on your torso or your arm.

After your consulting your parents, you’ve concluded that you had a unique connection with your soulmate. One that included feeling the same pain that they had to endure and vice versa. You had speculations in the beginning, was your soulmate being bullied? or maybe..abused? it was a possibility. However your parents comforted you and tried reasoning that your soulmate might’ve been taking Taekwondo or a sport where he might have to endure certain bruises.

You still feared the worst. Since then, you became more careful. You’d avoid sports and tried to prevent situations where you might get hurt. It was tedious at certain times, but if it made sure that your soulmate wouldn’t have to endure extra pain from your side, you made sure to become more paranoid.

The bruises never really stopped. It became more frequent you noted, but they were a different type of bruising. More like sores and muscle aches everywhere especially your legs. It was like your soulmate was always moving. You found some cuts as well which probably meant your soulmate cut himself accidentally but a bandage would work fine.

It went on for years and it’s still happening now.

Sometimes you were just, afraid. You’d literally be able to feel the pain that your soulmate goes through. It seems like it’s a lot.

You sighed out into the night sky. It was about 8 pm and you had just finished your shift at your job. The sun had set hours ago and now a shimmery majestic blue painted the sky. The stars that were visible, were so beautiful. It was a little chilly that night as the days came close to winter. You headed towards your apartment in small steps, wanting to take in the relaxing cool night.

You checked your watch for the time, and the pastel purple flower bandage on your pinkie caught your eye and reminded you to change all the bandages again, including the one on your nose. You’d woken up feeling a slight sting on your nose on the previous day and wondered what the hell, how did my soulmate actually cut himself there of all places

You checked your bandage through the reflection on your phone and didn’t notice a step. You stumbled and fell, conveniently spraining your ankle while doing so. You wrapped your hands around your ankle as bit your lip to prevent yourself from crying out loud.

“Gosh are you okay?” A man in a mask and hat called out to you as he exited the building just ahead of you. He looked and sound pretty friendly, the pain that were shooting up from your ankles also told you not to care about it and focus on your ankle first. You shook your head, “n-no it hurts really really badly, could you please, please get me a cab or something? Sorry for b-bothering you.” You replied hastily, wanting to get treatment as soon as possible.

Darn you were so looking forward to taking a warm bath and relaxing on your bed. Heels be damned

The stranger nodded, “give me a second i have some people in the building who can help. Just wait here, i’ll go get help. I’m Seungkwan by the way.” You continuedhokding onto your ankle, the other hand clenching to distract yourself from the pain. “Nice to meet you Seungkwan but i don’t think i can go anywhere either” You snorted back

Seungkwan laughed awkwardly and mumbled a “oops” before rushing into the building.

Hoshi’s leg gave out in the middle of practicing. He didn’t know what happened but one minute he was focusing on the choreography and the next minute he was in the ground, cursing and grabbing his leg in pain. The members panicked and tried asking him what was wrong.

Hoshi didn’t know either to be very honest. He, as well as the members knew of his unique connection with his dear soulmate. However, most of the times, he also noticed that his soulmate went out of the way to take care of themself to prevent any major injuries. Hoshi sworn the most “major” injury he’d gotten from his soulmate was his fingers being sore. He’d guessed that they played instruments though.

It was rare to feel physical hurt that Hoshi didn’t inflict on himself. “this freaking hurts” Hoshi groaned as Seungkwan dashed into the building and trying to find someone who could help.

“coups hyung, there’s a girl who twisted her ankle really bad. Help me call a cab to the hospital.” Seungkwan rushed out. He then noticed, Hoshi lying on the floor and holding on to the exact same leg.

Hoshi’s eyes widened. Was it you? his soulmate? Hoshi instantly forgot about the pain emitting from his ankle and rushed down.

He’s been waiting for this moment ever since he was young. Hoshi knew that his sore fingers weren’t because of his taekwondo or dance training. But he knew the sores and aches and frequent bruising he got from trainings had taken a toll on him, and you too.

Hoshi noticed that he never really felt other types of pain other than his sore fingers and blisters. and the time you sprained your wrist when you were younger. He was thankful to you. It definitely helped him through training, knowing you were safe and in turn keeping him safe as well.

You were still holding onto your ankle, biting harder into your lips as you tried to stretch your leg out for a moment. That guy, Seungkwan went inside for a really long time.

You puff out in frustration. This was not what you expected at all.

You heard footsteps and thumps coming from behind you and another came rushing out of the building. His eyes landed on you and at that moment, all the pain that were making your eyes water vanished. You looked down at your ankle and look back up to maintain eye contact with the stranger, who also had a cute yellow bandage on his nose similar to yours.

Hoshi burst out of the building to see you sitting down on the pavement. Your eyes watered as you held on to your leg until you looked down at your own ankle and then at him. his breath was stolen. You weren’t dressed for anything, but you still looked so beautiful. The plaster that you pasted on your nose made you cuter as well.

Hoshi started walking closer to you. Your eyes still focused on him because of how mesmerising he looked. He was one handsome stranger.

Hoshi couldn’t help it but rush to you, sliding onto the ground and capturing you in his arms. You were shocked for a moment, and that was when you realised. He was your soulmate. This man, right infront of you, was your soulmate.

The pain clouded your thinking for just a moment. Tears sprung to your eyes as you held onto him tightly. Hoshi pulled away from you to look at your face and holding your face with his hand. He loved the way you nuzzled into his hand and the way you looked so happy to have finally found him.

“i-i found you��� Hoshi whispered, placing his forehead on yours. “finally” he kissed your nose where the bandage lay.

You couldn’t trust your voice so you nodded in response. Hoshi stood up and offered you his hand,

“i believe i would like to know you better soulmate, if you’ll let me” he said, gesturing to the building. You didn’t mind, not at all. With your permission, he would carry you up like a baby before heading into one of the empty, smaller studios to hang out with you.

There he would shower you with love. Even though you had just met him, the connection with him felt stronger than ever. He apologised profusely for injuring himself accidentally all the time and about his taekwondo and dance trainings. He would also try to explain his idol situation as well to clear things up

Hoshi would definitely baby you, immediately calling you his baby and kissing the spots where some of the bandages were still visible. He’d help you remove them knowing all of them were healed by the soulmate bond.

“i’m so sorry for putting you through so much y/n, but now i can kiss all your boo boos away whenever you get hurt” he would say and flash you a cute close eyed smile.

After spending some time together and exchanging contact details, Hoshi would offer to send you home. He would walk you to your apartment and kiss you goodnight on the forehead.

You entered and watched Hoshi walk out of the building, punching the air and jumping around like a little kid. You knew what he was feeling, it was indescribable. You couldn’t help but miss that cute hamster already.

You took your time to wash up and check all your previous small injuries, happy that they were gone without leaving scars.

As you snuggled into bed that night, watching your soulmate’s performances, a small ‘ding’ made you open up your phone,

Now this was a perfect end to the day.

Masterlist

[fedtothenight]

this competition asked to write a short story in the dystopian genre and my entry's below - don't rb!

the sweetest fruit

The boy gasped, straining against the padded frame of the jeep just as the vehicle slowly came to a halt. ‘Look!’ he shouted, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet from the group. ‘Look, Mum! That’s so cool!’

Half-instinctively, his mother had already grabbed a fistful of his tank-top, ready to yank him back. She had spent the entirety of the trip sitting as still as possible, facing forward, eyes stubbornly fixed on the self-cooling top of the car in a pointless effort to fight her motion sickness: her patience was already wearing very thin without her eight-year-old personal safety hazard trying to get himself killed.

‘Ethan, for the love of God,’ she snapped. ‘I already told you to stop leaning over the frame! Do you realise how dangerous that is?’

‘No, Mum, you’ve got to look!’

‘Emma, darling,’ her husband whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You should really look at this. It’s magnificent.’

Whatever it was, even her fifteen-year-old daughter - who had spent the last thirty minutes texting her friends back home without so much as a glance at the scenery - was jaw-slacked, so she slowly got up on her wobbly knees and peered over her shoulders.

In the shadow of a tree, protected from the sweltering heat, two lions were feasting on a zebra. Perhaps belatedly, as it’d taken her a second to drink the sight in, she realised that the poor thing was still alive: writhing as blood, red and hot and pulsing, gushed out from where the bigger lion - the male - had bitten into its back.

The smaller one, the female, soundlessly sank its teeth into the dying animal’s neck, and the latter gave one last weak kick, finally falling limp. When the lioness stood again, it was almost impossible, from this distance, to see her eyes amidst the bloodied mess on her face.

‘Oh, my God, Matt,’ Emma said. ‘This is beautiful. Nature truly is beautiful.’

‘You don’t really get to see this kind of show anywhere else today,’ their guide said from the driver’s seat. He sounded proud, as if he’d hunted and fed the zebra to the lions himself.

Alberto wasn’t wrong, Emma reasoned. Given that they were parked in the middle of the privately-owned biggest North American savanna, he - or rather, his employer - was the one effectively feeding the lions. Like feeding mice to cats. She glanced at her children, glad they could have a window on a reality that was long gone. To think it would have taken a trip around the world to watch this spectacle - imagine the motion sickness then! If only, she considered wistfully, there could be a way of replicating glaciers just as accurately.

‘Honestly, it seems a bit unfair that they get to eat real meat,’ Ethan said at the dinner table a few hours later. He was picking at his plate, moving the fried grasshoppers they’d been served for dinner around, but not really eating any. ‘While we are stuck with insects and microprotein or whatever.’

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired and sunburnt, her sensitive pale skin suffering under the blistering sun of the region, so different from the temperate weather back home North. She had a splitting headache, too. She was, yet again, at the so-called end of her tether. ‘Ethan…’

‘You should be glad you get to eat at all,’ her daughter said at the same time. ‘There’s a reason it’s illegal to eat meat. These animals are here for show, anyway. They were originally from Africa.’

‘Shut up, Becca,’ Ethan mumbled. ‘Everybody knows there are no animals in Africa. There’s nothing there.’

Becca’s cheeks were tinted pink, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Of course there were animals. There were animals everywhere before the Climate Crunch.’

‘Both of you, stop it,’ Matt interjected. ‘Ethan, your sister is right. You should be grateful that we are here in the first place. That said…’ He leant forward, voice down to a whisper: ‘I have a surprise for you. Or, well, Richard has a surprise for us. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll bring us real meat. Bovine meat.’

‘But it’s illegal,’ said Becca.

‘It’s technically illegal,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘It’s not if you know how to get some and no one from Animal Conservation finds out. Do you think our president only eats insects? Please, Becca. Use that big brain of yours.’

‘Yes,’ Ethan snickered. ‘Use your brain, Becca.’

‘That is too generous,’ Emma said. ‘Inviting us here in the first place was, when even he hasn’t gotten here yet. Now this. I wouldn’t know how to repay him.’

Truly, all she felt was jealousy. Her guts twisted with the sheer force of it. Yes, she had known that Richard was comfortable. The gated, heavily guarded estate spanned for thousands of acres, comprised the 5000sqt villa they were staying at (five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a cinema, marble floors and solar panels on the rooftop), an indoor swimming pool inspired by vintage photos of Amalfi, two indoor tennis courts, and the savanna they’d explored earlier in the day. ‘The biggest conservation area in North America since they repurposed the Midwest,’ he’d bragged in a video call, two weeks before. ‘You will love it. The holiday you deserve. Make yourselves at home.’

But meat? He could get meat?

Matt’s family had designed DeNuketify, which was basically the only effective way of purifying ocean water from whatever nuclear waste Japan kept spewing so that it could be used and, most importantly, drunk. They had managed to flee the continent with the last handful of greencards about the time her family did, too, taking their precious Queen’s accent with them to found Nova London. She was the governor of Nova London now, for God’s sake. The bloody queen herself was long dead but she was alive, and yet, yet - they had never had meat.

‘We don’t have to, Emma,’ Matt said. ‘We just need to remember how lucky we are to enjoy this meal, this house, this holiday. Look at that,’ and he nodded towards the TV screen again. ‘Actually, Alexa!, volume up!, I think the Italians have finally surrendered.’

The war correspondent’s voice grew louder. She - they, Emma reminded herself: Becca always told her not to assume anyone’s gender - was wearing a dust mask and reading from a bundle of documents. ‘The last military hospital in the island of Palermo was destroyed four days ago by a Canadian airstrike,’ they were saying. ‘The rebels surrendered soon after, followed by the group of extremists in the Nebrodi island. Etna had already surrendered last year.’

‘It’s important to remember that these actions were necessary to finally put a rest on the instability of the region,’ they added. ‘Canada will fund a complete restoration of the Southern archipelago. The remaining civilians will be provided with a shelter and then, when the time comes, a suitable job. Nova Italia will be the sixteenth Canadian state, the fourth offshore. There are also hopes to extract petroleum from the seabed of the sunken city of Gela.’

‘Watch them make it into a holiday hotspot,’ Matt commented. ‘The weather is still nice there.’

‘Ooh, I heard about this.’ Becca picked her phone back up and started furiously typing away. ‘There’s this journal entry soldiers found over there, under the rubble, that’s gone viral. It was translated into English. Wait, I’ll pull it up. Alexa, volume down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it,’ Emma said, uneasy. ‘We’re on holiday. Should we not watch a movie? Something funny?’

Becca waved her away, as if she was an annoying fly. ‘It’ll be good practice for my drama class.’

Matt didn’t help—he simply shrugged, half-apologetic, as if to say: Let her do her thing.

Becca made a show of clearing her throat, too, before she started reading from her phone—her high voice now grave, studied, as if she were speaking to a larger audience: ‘I wonder what peas taste like.’

Right then, the scene on screen changed to footage of what looked like a destroyed village, something out of an apocalyptic movie. Emma found herself unable to look away.

‘Nonna used to say that her own great-grandmother grew them in her garden. Figs, too,’ Becca read. ‘They say they were the sweetest fruit.’

Emma wondered if this journal was actually written by a child or a teenager. It didn’t sound like an adult at all. She couldn’t help but picture a girl, a brunette, not much older than Becca, perhaps a rebel, or a trainee nurse on the sweet cusp of adulthood, holding this journal of hers, or perhaps a gun. It violently reminded her that her own daughter, too, would have to serve her time in the Forces in three years.

On screen, the Canadian soldiers walked among the ruins, zigzagging between torn up clothes and discarded weapons, surely looking for surviving rebels under the rubbles.

‘Isn’t it silly that we can hear the fighters overhead and that all I can do is think about food?’ said Becca. ‘I wish we could also eat figs and be happy.’

On screen, the camera zoomed in on a long-forgotten man's shoe, some crumpled photographs, on a pile of bodies in black bin bags.

‘Grandma - I miss her - left me a poetry book, too, from T.S. Eliot. I hope the book is with me when I die, so I can give it back to her when we meet again, afterwards. So I can tell her that T.S. Eliot was wrong.’

On screen, one of the soldiers approached and showed a little trinket to the camera: a bloody, heart-shaped locket that must’ve once been golden, hiding the miniature pictures of two brunette children that would never have a name.

‘That’s enough,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ‘Stop reading.’

‘The world may have not ended with a bang, but it didn’t end with a whimper, either: the world didn’t end at all. Sometimes,’ Becca finished reading, ‘I wish it had.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Matt scoffed. ‘Everyone should feel lucky to be alive. I bet this journal is a fake. Alexa, turn the TV off.’

As the screen faded to black, Ethan finally popped a grasshopper in his mouth. ‘I can’t wait to have meat tomorrow.’

[handlewcaare]

Art credit: @kajuhz

Since the time he crawled out of his grave at the laboratory, isolation was the best company he could make. Anyone who approached him with well-meaning intentions were shot down. Mistakes were bound to happen, but he would have been a fool to make the same one twice.

Once he returned to the little hole in the wall that was his agency, he ensured to keep a gun wherever was accessible for a friendly genetist. Was it paranoia? He didn’t know, but he thought he was desensitized to it all. What one man’s fatal wounds were his blisters and mild annoyances.

That had been the exact reason as to why the Association wanted him.

Several years after he retired from being a lab rat, his agency ran slow. People would hire him for small investigative work, nothing that he usually did in the golden days. It was honest work, he wouldn’t complain, finding a stalker within the bushes and seizing him got his mind off it. However, with the rapid development of caped crusaders typically found in comic books, what good was an old gumshoe?

It wasn’t until a monster had destroyed his agency that he comprehended why people regarded them as a persistent menace.

The fault was his own for leaving his agency unlocked, but after seeing years of evidence for cold cases left in ashes, his regrets immediately flourished to rage. Furor was not a typical characteristic of his, but after seeing his furniture destroyed, the maps and photographs partially charred or shredded, the malicious being only grinned at how he set down his groceries by his feet and locked the door.

The aroma of burning flesh against the lashing tongue of a conflagration never bothered him. How his muscles and ligaments were shredded under the velocity of the being’s claws never hindered his own onslaught. How he had to pry his own intenstines out from his peritoneal cavity to prevent him from tripping over it never evoked a sense of horror. He would give credit when it was due, the doctor certainly enhanced his healing factor.

As it turned out, a Griffin-like being with a flaming head was harder to swat than he anticipated. From a bucket of water, to using the fire extinguisher before bashing it’s skull with the end of the empty canister, he didn’t know how long the fight lasted until it was a new record.

Seven days. Four hours. Twenty minutes.

As someone once said, “time flies when you’re in an adrenaline rush.”

Not even after he hobbled out of the destroyed agency with the singeing aroma of salt, copper, gasoline and rotting flesh, was he greeted with the cries reserved for the victor. Gasping and cheering onlookers could only watch in wide-eyed wonder and admiration at how he stood in grotesque triumph. Being in the limelight never gave him comfort, in fact, he nearly shuffled to escape the crowd as soon as possible.

“We could use someone like you,” a man in a well-tailored suit said, “I’m part of this association and—”

“No,” a harsh refutation, he knows, but he knew better than to hand out his trust like brochures.

In spite of his protest, the intern attempted to chase after him, “but, sir! That monster was a threat level—!” Demon? Dragon? Dog? Who knew. It wasn’t until his arm, the one hanging by a thread of rotting muscle, fell off his shoulder that he was finally left be. The suppressed disgust did not go unnoticed.

“I don’t care.”

Not initially. Had it been his choice, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of being regarded as a poster boy. Since being confined in a pseudo-cage match with just about every abomination Genus could conjure, joining a group of Boy Scouts would have heightened his sensitivity to something he encountered often.

He could barely stomach analyzing a pallid, frigid reflection of himself projected onto a stranger. To envision that scarlet thread lay limp between their finger and his own—a relationship he could best describe as acquaintances—only served as an irritant he couldn’t scratch out. Though, that might have been amplified by the constant attempts to recruit him.

At this point of his life, the private investigator would resume his work. He always did, even after spending a quarter of his immortal days chained to a wall with nothing but his thoughts and his weapons to keep him company.

His last case was what prompted him to apply.

He didn’t know who hired him, but he did know that someone managed to figure out the address to his homely apartment. When asked whether he knew who the handwriting belonged to, none of them would have matched the description of the writer.

Lollipops?

The private investigator couldn’t help but be a bit dubious, but it was better than getting harassment calls and emails from interns. He read somewhere that people ate sweets to stimulate their thinking, but he just assumed it was a quick way to get a sweet tooth.

What the hell, he needed to get some coffee anyway.

As instructed, he took the public transit to Y-City. Folks were more kinder, a bit pompous, but it could have been due to the fact that he was a walking carcass that made headlines already—save for the idol hero, Anal Mask or whatever the hell his name is—but college kids were quick to point out where Doctor Hajime’s lab was. “He teaches my robotics class,” was the usual answer.

By the time he encountered the front door, he counted how many seconds he would have to escape. Chances were there was gonna be a cyborg or a robot to try and pin him down, inject him with something to make him black out. He had his machetes tucked under the collar of his shirt, his dessert Eagles were holstered at his hips and he had a handsome fire axe within the bag of lollipops and candy apples. He had time to escape, he would ensure that he would, least he opt to shove himself into the nearby wood chipper to finally do himself in.

What he anticipated from the opening door was an older gentleman, someone with a bow tie and unruly and snowy hair. His countenance would have been cobwebbed with age, his shoulders hunched to pronounce a spinal compression. Yet, he would offer a smile as dulcet and as mannerly as any other kind old man.

Instead, the private investigator was greeted with a boy with vibrant tawny eyes and a little auburn curl at the top of his crown. He had to be no older than nine years old. He couldn’t have been any taller than the door knob.

In an instant, he snuffed out his cigarette against the masonry and knelt down to the kid’s height. An instinctual response from someone who was once an uncle—father?—in a family who had long forgotten about him. “Hey kiddo,” the investigator began, “you seen where your dad went off to?”

As incredulous as the kid was, the investigator nearly assumed he went to the wrong place. That was until the boy spoke, “Considering I haven’t seen my father in nearly four years, I’m afraid not,” he paused as he offered a small, wistful smile, “but trust me, you’re not the first person to ask me that.”

Safe to assume that the child genius was much more hospitable than the private investigator was accustomed to. Then again, as he presented a lollipop to the child, those tawny eyes flourished as he hastily accepted the treat from the detective’s grasp. “Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t mention it,” whether or not he was aware of it, there was a smile that aligned.

As the two of them enjoyed their sweets, Hajime elucidated further about the technological black market. What routes they typically took and how he managed to figure out their patterns. The kid truly did have a good head on his shoulders.

“I have a hypothesis that these robots that are being trafficked underneath City W, X, Y and Z aren’t really used for security.”

“And why do you think so?”

“Well, Z-City has a lot of manifestations of monsters. If basic security-Trons were sent off to handle the threats, it would be a waste of resources. I mean, it’s carbon and bismuth—it’s elementary stuff.”

The boy paused as he used his watch as a hologram to present the blueprint of one of the robots. The private eye wasn’t exactly ‘technologically savvy,’ but Hajime called it ‘basic’ so he would just have to take his word for it.

“But that’s not what caught my attention,” he elucidated, as the boy extended his fingertips, the robot’s physique separated by segments of its parts. When he pointed toward a certain adapter, the private investigator couldn’t help but furrow his brows a bit.

“That’s a cranial nerve implant.”

Hajime paused, as if he had fully prepared an exasperative and long-winded statement, “you’ve encountered them before?”

When implored, he suppressed the urge to visibly quake under the phantasmic impulses of electricity that had once trailed down the expense of his brain stem. It was a way to analyze how fast he developed increased intracranial pressure, he remembered Genus saying.

“Friend was a doc,” a decent lie that Hajime seemingly overlooked, though the private investigator felt an acrimonious taste in his mouth. “She said something about how it’d use electricity to wake up dead nerves.”

His russet glare narrowed as he brought a hand to caress his own chin, “thought they’d still be in development...”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” For a moment, the boy’s joviality made him appear exactly his age.

Ah- now it’s starting to make sense.

“From what I know, Z-City has monsters just about every corner,” the investigator began. His baritone suddenly lost it’s intrigue once he mentally assembled the puzzle pieces the best he could. “With monsters, people tend to be more scared than they should be. What do you think being scared means?”

The boy’s eyebrows raised, “they’re paranoid?”

“And—?”

“They...” while it was easy to assemble a mechanical enigma to guard civilians, it was harder to provide a baseline to something as fluctuating as human response. Hajime eventually restored to shrugging his shoulders, “...they’re desperate?”

With that, the private investigator pressed a finger to the tip of his nose before he pointed at Hajime. “Desperate people tend to do stupid. If I’m a single father living in Z-City, you think turning into the terminator wouldn’t be my go-to?”

Such analysis didn’t seem to satisfy the boy. Whether or not it was a challenging diatribe, it was enough of a refutation to make the investigator think a bit, “but you know it’s permanent right? I mean, the cranial nerves aren’t exactly something you want to tamper with, especially if those implants can get into your cerebrum and alter you entirely.”

“Well, you—the kid genius—might know that,” he deflected easily, “but what about me? I’m a single father with a degree in underwater basket weaving. Do you think they taught me about cranial nerves while I was trying to make a basket?”

One could hear a pin drop until the boy piped up, “I mean- if you’re scuba diving and you’re weaving the basket—”

“Just finish your lollipop, kiddo.”

Several weeks had passed when they finally traced a call to one of the robotic manufacturers. It was certainly much more handy than to thread scarlet yarn along what tabs had pinned photographs. Then again, doing things the old fashioned way made old habits die hard.

Needless to say, the private eye could understand the boy’s fascination with his toy-like projects. From a giant action figure he kept buried within the depths of the earth to the robot dogs that served as a pseudo-trump card, it was like assembling legos for him. As the two of them took the public transit to Z-City, the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, save for Hajime’s need to tamper with a Rubik’s cube.

Unlike the other Alphabet cities, the ambiance around Z-City felt calloused and empty. It was but the abyss that stared upon them once they left the transit and it gave the private eye an eery sensation that crept along his vertebrae. It must have been that paternal instinct.

“Stay close to me,” he cautioned, though he should have known better that Hajime didn’t like to be talked down to.

“I can take care of myself.”

“—and if I can’t take care of myself?”

Reverse psychology seemed to do wonders, as Hajime’s vanity subsided for the need to have his partner’s back. Should anyone ask, the detective wouldn’t admit the presence of his little smile.

The call had declared that the deal would be set in the alley nestled next to a udon stand and an apartment complex. It was an easy hole in a wall and, considering how the civilian was late, he and Hajime had to play their part. Between himself and no one in particular, he preferred it that way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to die in front of the boy.

“Oi,” the thuggish chirp resounded from the maw of a strange man who looked mechanically modified. His brows were too close to his eyes, accenting a crueler look. The detective fought every urge to usher Hajime behind him. “You Hammerhead?”

He silently reprimanded himself for not bringing a hammer.

“Yeah,” the detective’s response was nonchalant, a lethargic drawl that could have remained hidden within a thick penumbra of nicotine.

“Who’s the brat?”

“Mine,” short and concise, though he let his russet gaze nearly puncture into the dealer, “you want the money or should I show you my wedding photos?” He went in too eager, though that was exactly the point with desperate people. Fortunately, the dealer turned out to simply comply at the mention of money.

“Seven thousand yen.”

It was agreed upon with a shaky baritone by the real customer prior. However, it was a game that the detective often played prior to meeting Dr. Genus. Once he began to thumb his fingers along the bills in his pocket, the dealer swiftly interjected the detective’s counting.

“I-I meant Seventy thousand!”

“Oh?”

Seventy thousand it was that was instantly slapped into the dealer’s hand. However, there was hardly a moment when the dealer abruptly seized the detective’s arm and held him hostage at gunpoint.

Needless to say, one should never underestimate the strength of a man who wanted to make civilians into cyborgs. With an irritated sigh, the immortal felt his head jerk to the side as a bullet pierced through his temporal lobe. Albeit, the moment his body should have sprawled limp was the instant he seized his machete and took a blind swipe. What astonishment and pure horror from the mechanical marvel only wrought a hand to catch the blade.

Fortunately, the fist that veered to deck the detective never came to deliver. Rather, a tendril that emerged from Hajime’s backpack seized the mechanical marvel’s appendage into a tight lock. It was but a split second when the detective retrieved the machete’s twin and severed the appendage.

“Shit—!” The hydra hydrolauics swiftly seized ahold of the being and attempted to suspend him in the air. Hajime’s hands braced tight to his backpack’s straps, though the dealer proved to be a formidable foe, as he laconically wrapped his free arm around a tendril to toss the brat.

Safe to say that the detective prioritized catching the kid than the dealer. Both had landed with a harsh grunt against the asphalt before the detective hastily retrieved his desert Eagle and fired. Once again, it was a null chance, given how he was abruptly seized by his throat and tossed through the brick masonry of the neglected library.

What sanguine from the brunt trauma coagulated and the flesh wounds he sustained, he could only instinctively block the blow from the mechanical marvel. Regular fisticuffs was a fond favorite of his, typically because of how seldom he did it. What reciprocating strike had been enough to swivel his head evoked him to land a brutal bite of his axe into where his opponent should have been.

“Mr. Detective!”

It was but a moment that the private eye peered over to see Hajime with a snapped tendril, it’s cobwebs of electricity was a big enough hint for him. The instant he distanced himself, the dealer had not a moment to abstain when his back arched under the brutal conduction of carbon and lightning. His howl was guttural, ripping through the empty ambiance before he collapsed at their feet.

What should have been a victorious high-five was but a dreadful beat of anticipation. Hajime could only stare down at the beaten villain, “did I kill him...?” His murmur was rather hushed, as monsters were not the same as modified humans.

For the sake of the boy’s anxiety, the detective brought the tip of his shoe to budge the dealer. The somnolent twitch of his countenance wrought a sense of relief to weigh into the boy’s sigh.

The private investigator offered a high-five for the boy to make. The gesture was slow, as if cautious, but the kid genius managed to reciprocate it. “You did good,” he didn’t know it then, but it was a compliment that Hajime would hold to his heart later.

On taking the transit back to City-Y, the detective opted to intervene the silence. An odd thing for him to do, but it was just them and a few others coming home late.

“So, your parents—” it might have been too sensitive of a subject, but he opted to continue, “—did they uh...” it would have been easy to assume they did die. After all, it was how every hero was sculpted.

Hajime only shook his head, “no,” he said before he retrieved a little Rubik’s cube from his backpack. His fingers fidgeted the slots as his hazel gaze lingered toward the trinket, “I mean, they’re overseas. They send me birthday cards sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” The private investigator couldn’t help but raise a brow at that.

“When they remember.”

Had the private investigator known about Hajime’s profession outside of being a teacher then, he would have been more than happy to demand what the hell was more important than their own kid. Did they know he was handled by suits who depended on currency than their own workers? Even if one of them—two if he counted Badd later—was a child?

Even if he didn’t know it, his furor was quiet enough to make him try to huff out a sigh. His jaw clenched along the curses he would have hissed under his breath when no one was around. Fortunately, Hajime was a quick study.

“What about you?” He must have thought it was a witty comeback, considering how his nose wrinkled a bit, “where’d your parents go?”

“Can’t say I remember,” he knew he had them, but he didn’t know what he did with them. Were they around when he died the first time? Longer? All he could afford to do was wander aimlessly as a phantom without a shell. “Been around since the A.D’s.”

“The A.D.’s??”

As it turned out, Hajime was fascinated with history. The boy’s queries seemed to be rapid fire initially, such as whether or not Shakespeare was a real person (he was), how far has technology gone (far enough), or if the crusades were as brutal as written (it was, but he never had the pleasure in fighting in the wars). The boy’s excitement seemed to tucker him out quickly unfortunately.

Just as the private investigator began to describe what Feudal Japan was like, Hajime nodded off and slumped against the detective’s shoulder. Their stop only prompted him to gingerly scoop the boy up into one arm and carry his—surprisingly dense—backpack with the other. Fortune came in technological wonders, as the lab seemed to unlock its hinges at the presence of their creator’s facial recognition.

The time was late when he finally tucked the boy into bed. Hajime’s backpack slumped against the masonry. There was a strange and phantasmic ache at the base of the detective’s chest, something he hadn’t really felt since he last died.

Prior, he often wondered if it was better to be alone or to try and have a family. He was told he was good with kids by their parents who would hire him to find them. To imagine himself as a father was frightening nowadays, as he could envision that bastard trying to pick up his kids for experimentation.

With Hajime safely in bed, the detective’s thoughts drifted to the newspaper that detailed the triumphs of S-Class Hero Child Emperor against the dreadful turnip monster that interrupted his robotics cla—

...They seriously named the kid “Child Emperor” huh?

The detective contemplated on the transit home just as hard as he was contemplating it back home. His glare lingered toward the shredded up business card. It took every increment of his pride to collect the pieces, but the heroes association weren’t exactly child-friendly.

Did that mean he couldn’t try to do better? For the first time, he felt a sense of balance when handling the dealer. His agency was going to go nowhere and he needed the money, that wasn’t including the fact that Hajime would have ended up, perhaps, the only sensible person there.

he hated being right at times.

He needed to do better, not for the sake of spiting Genus, but to be better for himself.

After he called the intern’s number, he waited until there was a ‘hello?” At the other end of the line.

“Hi,” he says, “I’d like to file a hero application. Do you mind walking me through the process?”

[rohad93]

Worth the Fight: Chap 3

They decide not to stick around the dark, beast filled, woods after the cockatrice attack and quickly packed up and headed back out on the path toward their destination, it's still pitch black other than the faint light coming from the moon, but Luz's light enchantment lasts the rest of the night until the first rays of dawn begin to streak across the sky, lighting up the seemingly endless stretches of wheat fields. Something Eda silently finds odd. When I spell is cast, how long are powerful it is depended on how much magic the user put into it, but before this moment, Luz had never been able to do any magic no matter how much she tried, so Eda isn't sure how Luz controls it, if at all, and it's just random. She doesn't know what to expect from her apprentice anymore.

Luz was tired, very tired, but she was still riding the remaining high of her very first monster-slaying, retaining just enough energy to keep her eyes open and her feet moving, but only just. It was an effort, but she somehow managed.

She can see the shadows of the city long before they reach it, the sun rising behind it cast long dark shadows across the fields and woods that surround its tall, stone walls.

The closer they get the wider Luz's eyes grow, along with Eda's smirk, as she watched her apprentice out of the corner of her eye.

It was much bigger than any of the other towns they had been to over the years. Its streets’ are paved with cobblestone and packed with people and vendors of all shapes and sizes, selling every kind of good Luz could imagine, and some she couldn't.

She stared in awe at the towering stone buildings all around her as they stopped in the center of the busy market.

“Welcome to the putrid, capital city of The Boiling Isles; Bonesburrough!” Eda held out a hand at everything.

"This is amazing!" Luz bounced excitedly on her toes and she looked around at all the hustle and bustle of the city's inhabitants. Very few people were even giving her, distinctly rounded ears, a second look as they made their way through the crowds, most people moving out of their way as King walked along beside them, looking almost bored at all the people that were quick to jump out of his path. "Are you finally going to tell me why we're here?" Luz looked up her mentor, eyes full of questions.

"Oh, right, I got word that a bunch of prominent and rich noble families need more hands guarding their shipments and things lately since the war seems to be ramping up. It's boring grunt work, but I was told that it pays exceptionally well," Eda explained as they moved through the market.

"Is that where we're going now?" Luz tilted her head questioningly.

"Nope, we're heading for the blacksmiths' first," Eda said, grinning down at her. “It’s time.”

"Time for what?" Luz's eyes narrowed in confusion, making Eda chuckle as she looked down at Luz’s thoughtful expression.

"After what happened last night, I think you're finally ready for your own sword; a real sword." Eda can barely finish the sentence before Luz is making an excited, high-pitched, squealing noise that makes King’s ear pin back flat against his head and Eda wince.

“I finally get my own sword!?” She was practically vibrating with giddy excitement. Eda slapped her hands on her shoulders to still her, the kid was making her tired with all her bouncing. All her exhaustion from last night has vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Yes, Luz. You’re getting your own sword, but you gotta understand that means from this point on you’re gonna have to pull your own weight from here on out, make money and feed yourself, it’s time for you to start the next part of your training; experience. You're going to start taking and completing jobs, you can't buy your own food, you don't eat.” She explained seriously, but still, Luz is beaming from ear to ear at the news and Eda rolled her eyes. They would need to revisit this discussion after Luz had calmed and was actually listening to her. "Come on, Kid." Eda waved a hand, beckoning her apprentice to follow.

They can smell the smithy long before they can see it, though they can see the smoke that billows from the open building even before that. King’s nose wrinkles at the odor.

The forge is billowing red hot flames when they approach and a lone figure in a leather apron, gloves, and plate metal mask is standing over it, running a pole through the fire inside, turning over the blistering hot coals and causing a fresh wave of heat to blast into the air.

"As if it wasn't hot enough around here…," Eda grumbled and wiped at the sweat that had broken out across her brow.

The figure looked up from the flames and shut the heavy metal door on the furnace, sucking some of the heat out of the air. They stepped back and lifted up the metal mask.

A young woman, maybe just a few years older than Luz at the most, is grinning at them, with soot smudged cheeks and dark brown hair tied up in a bun. What immediately catches Luz’s attention is the metal hook pierced through her right earlobe.

“Welcome to Griffin Smithy, what can I do for ya?” she asked, looking between the two of them, her eyes lingered on Luz’s ears for a half a second longer before meeting her eyes,

“Need a sword for the kid,” Eda said, hooking a thumb at Luz who is again, grinning madly with excitement.

‘Well, you came to the right place, come on back and I’ll show ya what we got.” The young woman nodded as she walked into the shop. Luz turned to Eda just in time to catch the bag of jingling silver coins Eda had thrown at her.

“Go on, Luz.” Eda crossed her arms and jerked her head toward the shop. “His majesty and I are going to go get our stay at the Redstone inn figured out, meet us there when you're finished,” she grunted and Luz smiled, nodding as she followed the blacksmith into the shop, tying the bag to her belt.

“Oooh!” Luz’s eyes lit up.

The walls were covered in all manner of weapons, many Luz was familiar with. Swords, maces, pikes and daggers, and some she couldn’t even guess at, like the long wooden shaft with a large circle of metal at the end filled with spikes.

“Neat…,” she hummed to herself as she moved around the room. “Oh!” She spotted something interesting from across the room and trotted over to the wall covered in hanging swords. In front of her was a sword longer than she was tall with a flamberge blade. Her face reflected back at her in the shiny polished metal. She grinned to herself as she wrapped her hands around the hilt and lifted it from its hangers. She grunted, muscles straining at the sudden weight.

She did not expect it to be as heavy as it was and stumbled backward a few steps as the blade tipped back toward her dangerously.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she wobbled precariously, nearly about to drop the blade back on herself, probably cleaving herself in two, before a leather-gloved hand snatched up the blade and gently took it from her hands and hung it back on the wall.

“Maybe something a little smaller?” the young smith chuckled at her and Luz’s face flushed crimson but nodded. “Can I see what you got?” she held out her hands and Luz blinked before realizing she meant her training sword. She pulled it from its sheath and held it out to the other young woman, who hummed as she examined it.

“Training blade, huh?” she handed it back and nodded to herself. “Well if you want something similar, but with more bite, of course, one of these long swords would be good.” she gestured to a few weapons hanging on the wall, the sunlight coming through the shop windows bounced off their polished surfaces in a blinding glare.

Luz hummed, tapping a finger to her chin as she examined the blades before finally pulling one off the wall. Its weight was solid but comfortable in her hands as she gripped the smooth, ebony-colored leather wrapped around the grip. The pommel was a distinctly shaped animal head. A wolf if she’d ever seen one. The silver guard flared out away from the grip in two straight bars, tripped with carefully rounded, curved points; fangs.

She hefted the blade into starting position, elbows raised and blade perpendicular to her face before giving it a few swings and twists, jabbing an imaginary opponent as Eda had taught her. It felt good in her hands, and she tried to remain serious even as excitement was threatening to spill over, but she couldn't keep the grin off her face as she swung it around experimentally before finally lowering back to her waist and running her fingers over the fuller of the blade.

“You know, don’t get many humans around here, even less buying weapons,” the smith finally spoke up after watching Luz’s masterful, and graceful demonstration, a far cry from when she’d nearly dropped the zweihander on herself a few minutes ago.

Luz’s shoulders seemed to hug her neck, as though willing her ears to become invisible. The young blacksmith was quick to notice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, just doesn’t happen much… or ever, really. I’m Viney, by the way.” The blacksmith introduced herself with a grin and Luz felt herself relax at the easy smile.

“Luz Noceda,” Luz returned the introduction.

“New in town? I feel like I would have seen you around before,” she asked. Luz knew what she really meant. If they didn’t get many humans around here, she would be a sure standout in town, not something she was looking forward to.

“Yeah, just got in this morning, we’re looking for work,” Luz explained.

“Well, you came to the right place, Bonesburough is the largest port city in the Boiling Isles and as the farthest south, ever since the war started raging just across the sea, there's never a shortage of need for help carrying or protecting cargo around here with the Emperor’s men constantly coming and going, restocking and all that.” Viney crossed her arms and shrugged.

That sounded like good news for her and Eda. Where there's fighting, there's money. Those were her mentor’s words anyway, it sounded boring though.

“Well I was hoping for something along the lines of monster-slaying,” she admitted.

“Monster slaying? No offense, but you don’t exactly fit the description of most monster hunters I’ve known.”

“Because I’m human?” Luz frowned.

“You’re tiny,” Viney said instead and Luz yelped. She was fairly tall, but she was quite lean and lanky, at least it appeared so when she wore her cloak, but after five years of traveling and training with Eda, she was actually all lean and toned muscle, thank you very much.

“I'm just lean!” she shrugged her cloak off her shoulders, letting it hang from her neck, and flexed both arms, making the much bulkier blacksmith laugh, but she was right, the human wasn’t nearly as stick-like as the cloak and baggy tunic had led her to believe.

“I stand corrected, you gotta admit, when you almost dropped that zweihander on yourself it left room for doubt,” she chuckled.

“I just didn’t expect it to be that top-heavy…,” Luz grumbled as Viney grinned. “I got this fighting a cockatrice!” she proudly pointed to the still very new and raw skin that is definitely going to scar when it heals.

“No kiddin’?” Viney gazed at the painful-looking wound. “Well, if you’re looking for jobs slaying malicious creatures, the locals often hire and the job board in the town square usually has some stuff,” Viney informed her and Luz nodded.

“Thanks very much.”

“So, what do you think about the sword?” Viney tilted her head and motioned to the longsword still gripped in one of Luz’s hands.

“It’s perfectly balanced. How much?” Luz tried not to let how eager she was show, she’d learned the hard way how that often led to merchant’s jacking up the price on her; that and just because she was human.

“Normally, with the extra detailing, I’d ask a little more for that one, but I’ll let it go for a hundred-fifty, a welcome to town discount.” The smith grinned at her and Luz perked.

“Deal” she nodded and they made the exchange before Luz made her way out of the door, waving as Viney called at her back.

“Don’t be a stranger!”

Luz walked proudly through the streets of Bonesburough, with her new blade fit snugly in its black and silver sheath, tied at her hip next to her old training blade. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that yet, but she finally felt like she was making progress. She had finally learned some form of magic and Eda had finally deemed her ready for a real sword.

Now she just needed to meet back up with her mentor.

She glanced around curiously. She had no idea where the inn was.

She sighed to herself, leave it to Eda to leave her alone in a strange new city with no instructions or even a general idea of what direction she should even be going. She really. Needed to learn to ask follow-up questions.

So much of the city looked the same, the general infrastructure anyway. Plain, gray stone walls, and people moving in every direction around her in a symphony of noise; it was disorienting.

She was so busy looking around at everything that she isn’t paying attention when she turns a corner and runs headlong into someone coming out of a shop and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Luz was already apologizing as she scrambled to her feet, she turned to look at whoever she had just bowled over while not paying attention.

A young woman, her pointed ears giving her away as a witch, in a fancy magenta and gold-trimmed dress. She looked to be about her own age, with mint colored hair that hung just above her shoulders in a straight cut, longer sides pulled back in a short tail at the back of her head. Luz blinked, noticing the roots showing at the peak of her forehead, a bright bronzey auburn color. Her face was lean, with the sharp jaw and pointed chin that seem to come standard on most aristocrats.

Everything about her screamed ‘noble’, including the bright gold eyes currently glaring daggers at her from the ground and Luz, blinked at her, wide-eyed, finally realizing she was standing there, staring, like an idiot at a pretty noblewoman she had just barreled into.

"Let me help you." She held her hand out.

“Watch where you’re going, you half-wit!” she snarled, slapping Luz’s extended hand away and hauling herself to her feet.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Luz grimaced as the other woman scowled at her.

“Obviously,” she bit out, dusting herself off and noticing the long rip in the skirt and to Luz, it looked like someone had just told her something terrible by the way her face shifted to dread before quickly switching back to anger. “Look what you did!” she snapped, making Luz flinch back.

“I…” Luz isn’t sure what to say or how she can make this better. If anything her hesitation only seems to make the woman in front of her angrier.

“Just get out of my way…” she shouldered past Luz without a second glance and disappeared into the crowd within a few seconds. Luz frowned as she disappeared.

She was off to a great start today it seems.

She glanced up at the shop the other woman had just come out of and it met with an old painted sign.

‘Park’s Herbs & Tonics’

An apothecary? As good a place as any to get directions she supposed.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside and was immediately hit by a strong medicinal smell that quickly made her stomach churn.

“Ugh…,” she groaned to herself. She knows these smells. She’d been injured enough over the years that they immediately conjure a reaction in her.

“Welcome!” a cheery high-pitched voice greets her and her eyes zero in on a woman about her age, shorter, and a little rounder with short dark hair and dark green eyes behind a large pair of spectacles. “Can I help you with something?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah…” Luz walked closer and the other girl’s eyes widened a fraction, but Luz noticed.

“You’re a human…,” she said with a quiet fascination and Luz tensed. “We never get humans in here…,” she stops and Luz expects something else but she says nothing else about it. ‘What can I help you with?” She smiled and Luz relaxed some.

“Oh, I…,” she starts but is cut off.

“Your cheek right?” the bespectacled girl asked, pointing to her left cheek and Luz blinked.

“My cheek?” Luz reached up and winced as her fingers brushed over the raw acid burn from last night. “I guess I could use something for that, yeah.”

“What happened.” The young apothecary asked, walking forward to better look at Luz’s face, adjusting her glasses.

“Cockatrice acid.” she shrugged and the girl’s eyes widened before she cupped her chin in hand, looking thoughtful.

“I have an elixir I’ve been working on, it should scar that right up, but it’s untested… it could have a negative effect. If you want to volunteer, I’ll give it to you for free,” she offered.

“Hmm… free, but could melt my face off…” Luz hummed thoughtfully.

“Nothing quite so drastic… probably,” The other teen laughed.

“Let’s do it.” Luz nodded and the girl brightened.

“I’ll be right back!” she called as she turned and disappeared into the back. While she was gone Luz wanded around the shop looking at the many glass jars and bottles filled with liquids, dried plants, and fermented things of all kinds, some brightly colored and some like mud or swamp water.

She stared into a jar of murky clear liquid and an eyeball stared back at her from the brine. She leaned down to better look at it and blinked. It blinked back, making her jump and stumble backward, nearly knocking over a shelf full of glassware. She grabbed it before anything could go careening to the floor and sighed in relief.

“Here we are!” The girl returned and walked straight up to her, a jar of bright yellow liquid in one hand and a rag in the other.

“Are you ready… Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even get your name!”

“Luz, Luz Noceda.” she gave a little bow, arm at her waist, and grinning.

“Willow Park,” she returned the greeting. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Luz shrugged and Willow popped the cork on the bottle and Luz wanted to gag at the smell but she held fast as Willow poured some of the elixir on the rag before she gently pressed it to Luz’s cheek, who hissed painfully as it burned her skin, but only for a moment and then the pain faded into a weird tingling in her skin.

The rag was pulled away and Willow looked at it before a smile broke out across her face.

“Did it work?” Luz questioned.

“Have a look!” Willow smiled and started to gesture to the small mirror she had sitting on the counter but Luz pulled her sword from its sheath, making her jump as she angled it to see herself in the polished blade.

“Hey!” Luz grinned. Her raw, painful wound had scarred over near instantly creating a jagged scar that stretched from just left of her nose and across her cheek beneath her left eye nearly all the way back to her ear.

“Does it make me look dangerous?” She turned to Willow, brows raised in question. The apothecary laughed.

“That’s one word for it.” she nodded.

“Thanks, Willow!” Luz beamed and the shorter girl grinned.

“It’s what we do and why you came.”

“Actually… I was hoping to get directions to the RedStone inn,” Luz chuckled sheepishly. “But this is great too,” she assured.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?”

Luz leaves the shop with a healed face and directions for the city’s most popular inn.

It doesn’t take her long to find the inn, nor the room Eda had rented for the three of them. King sat up as soon as she walked into the room, tail thumping loudly on the bed.

“Hey, you’re back, so, what’d you get?” Eda craned her neck around from the bed to try and spy the new sidearm tied to Luz’s waist, which she presented to her mentor with a grin and flourish.

Eda whistled as she inspected the brightly polished blade and expertly molded guard and pommel.

“I take it there's no money left…” Eda frowned, looking up at Luz from her place sitting on the bed.

Luz blinked, confused by that, and pulled the leather sack of coins from her waist.

“There's plenty of money left.” She tossed the bag to Eda who eyed its contents and frowned further.

“Did you steal this?”

“What?!” Luz guffawed, making King’s ear’s perk up and swivel in her direction.

“Look, Kid, I know a good blade when I see one, and this is a four-hundred silver sword, easy, what did you pay for this?”

“One-fifty… Viney said she was giving me a ‘newcomer’ discount…,” she trailed off.

“Who?” Eda blinked.

“The Blacksmith!”

“Oh, the girl…” Eda smirked and Luz frowned at it. “Sounds like you got the ‘blacksmith thought you were good-looking’ discount.” Eda cackled.

“No, she was just nice!” Luz flushed.

“Sure, Kid, I’d never be nice enough to take that much money off a sword…I’m just sayin…” Eda shrugged, laying back on the bed, arms folded behind her head and smirking to herself, eyes closed.

“You’re not nice to most people…,” Luz reminded.

“Ha, got me there!” She peeled one eye open to look at Luz. “Either way, hope you're ready to use it. First thing tomorrow you're gonna head out there and start working if you wanna eat and pay your share of this room that is.”

“Ah, right, I got a tip on some jobs… So… are you done training me… am I on my own?” Luz looked at her frowning as she sat on her bed beside King.

“Essentially…” Eda sat up, face turning serious. “I’ve taught you everything I can technique-wise, outside of magic. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, but you got that book to help you with that.”

“That’s true.” Luz nodded, fingering the hilt of her sword.

“If this is what you want to do Luz, you need to learn how to work independently, it can be lonely out there at times, so I’m not going anywhere just yet, we just got here and there’s money to be made! When I’m not out working I’ll be around to offer sagely advice, as always.” She grinned and Luz snorted.

Eda gave advice alright, but Luz wasn’t sure she would categorize it as even remotely ‘sagely’.

“So, rest up, Kid. The rest of your life starts tomorrow!” Eda grinned, slapping her back.

“Right!” she flopped back on the bed, with King at her side and her fatigue from that morning came rushing back and before she knew it, she’s out, curled up into a ball with King to keep her warm. Eda rolls her eyes at the two of them but grins all the same.