#i was like damn what canal did you wash up out of

[magefeathers]

Driving to work the morning after a hurricane passed by. Three cop cars with lights on pulled over on the side of the road, halt a dozen policemen standing around in someone's front yard. Look over for a closer look as I drive past.... and see the biggest mf alligator I've ever seen in real life just ambling down the sidewalk while the police follow it at a careful distance. Truly #just florida things

[sheepispink]

Hornets, Wasps and cuddling— wait what?

Masterlist AO3 ver

summary: Rational and calculated: those are the traits that kept you alive on the field and thus made you popular for how you seemed to never crack under pressure. That’s exactly why Ghost was confused when he found you breathless in the hallway after hearing a barrage of footsteps down the long corridors of the barracks and, of course, still clad. in your pyjamas.

Tags: Simon “Ghost” riley/reader, fluff, cuddling, wasps obviously, reader has paranoia, slightly gory description (mentions of skin being scraped out), slowburn, platonic/romantic (can be seen as either), hurt/comfort

WC: 6k

Gifted to python333 on ao3, i love all ur fics

It was almost half past one in the morning when you entered your room in the barrack; the fresh air blowing around your room was absolutely perfect considering how sweaty you were after returning from your mission. Your usual routine went as follows: dump your uniform into your laundry basket, take a warm shower (shampoo like three times; you always did so after missions), dry off, and apply a very simple skincare routine before knocking out until someone dragged you out of bed the next morning. It wasn't like you missed your alarm; Price has written the force a day off so, for once in your life, you’d actually get the sleep you needed after such a tiring week in the field.

While you undress, your mind starts to drift to all the close calls your own small team had faced today due to an unforeseen event changing the plan. You seemed to be the only one there who ever had their head on their shoulders, but then again, most of them only had a few months actually doing field missions, and the others were fresh out of training. Due to that, the mission was obviously not very high risk, and so you weren't setback that much, but damn, it did tire you out having to always watch out for each member on the team. The bathroom tiles are cold against your feet as you step inside, turning the handle of the shower and slowly climbing in once the water becomes warm enough.

Soon enough, you’re feeling a lot cleaner and relaxed, the tension in your temples disappearing as soon as you wash the cleanser off your face. With a small dollop of cream now rubbed into your face, you climb into your small bed in the corner with a soft sigh. The duvets aren't nearly what you used to indulge yourself in before you joined the military, but damn anything is better than those annoying uniforms. You allow your eyes to finally slip close once whilst the wind whistles past your curtains again, the slight coldness making you snuggle up to your pillow as you grow sleepier by the second. You’re so close to dreamland now, the usual worries no longer clouding your head like they’ve been sucked away by your fluffy pillows.

bzz

It was probably just a notification, and knowing how dry your phone was, it was likely going to be the weather app with the latest forecast. You roll over onto your side, pressing your cheek into your pillow to hopefully drown out your constant thoughts.

Then you hear it again, louder and intrusive, like it’s right by your ear. It’s threatening to crawl in and eat away at the skin of your ear until you wake, scratching at your ear canal until blood begins to seep and your brain—

With a small gasp, you jolt awake, your eyes searching the perimeter frantically for the source of the noise. Driven with confusion and a slight terror you wouldn't ever admit to feeling, you scramble out of bed and pat down the curtains, your desk, and the laundry basket. Though nothing appears—not even a damn mosquito or the like. You were sure you heard something, absolutely positive but you can't exactly fight the air, could you? Reluctantly, you pull the covers over yourself and settle back into the bed. It’s probably an annoying fly that escaped through the window— not exactly something to concern yourself over. It’s not like you haven't slept through rickety army trucks or the loud whirring of helicopter blades before; it shouldn’t bother you any longer. With a groan, you close your eyes again and lean back, ready to let your exhausted mind enter that quiet state again.

BZZ

It doesn't sound like a fly now, nor a wasp or anything familiar. It’s noisy and destructive, buzzing in calculated yet violent ways. It makes you jump up straight again, only to be met with the sight of your plain old room. Had all those explosives really banged up your hearing? You’d have to get it checked out at the infirmary tomorrow, but for now you couldn't say you were a little paranoid. It was just a little strange how it always seemed to appear whenever you were on the verge of sleep, and even though you’re exhausted, you decide to just wait it out at least a little bit. Just in case.

After twenty minutes of no noise, you finally get tired enough to just fall asleep without knowing, your head slightly turned to the side as you nod off peacefully, now without a doubt that it really must’ve been a trick in your mind, nothing to worry about in the slightest.

Unfortunately, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next hour, the buzzing extremely loud and the sound bouncing around your ears like you’re in a cinema. Your limbs feel like they’ll fall apart as it is, and you silently swear to yourself that if Soap is trying to piss you off again, you will slap him this time. Cracking your eyes open, your worries immediately fester into terror as you see whatever the hell that is, running rings around your ceiling. It’s larger than the average fly, even more so than a wasp, and by the sound of how aggressive it’s buzzing is, you’re likely to become it’s next meal. Before you can consider your next move, your hand is already wrapped around your phone and your feet tucked up in your fluffy slippers as you immediately make a run for it. You’ll be thankful later for the automatic locking on your room door, but for now you couldn’t give more than a passing thought as you practically ran down the hallways of the barracks. Your head is empty, just focused on the nightmarish idea of that buzzing wasp, hornet—vile creature—flying around your room for the whole time while you were deep asleep. What the hell are you going to do? It was almost deafening how loud it all was, now you’re starting to think further into it, wondering if there was more than one in your room; hell, maybe there was even a nest in there. Now your lungs feel like they’re being blown up from how heavy you’re breathing. Your heart is hammering against your chest, almost painfully, before you finally snap to reality once you realise you’re about to crash into the doors that lead to the rest of the base. Now out of breath, you force the adrenaline to skid to a stop and quietly pant, trying to get back to your senses, which are clearly left behind in your bedroom with that horrible thing.

“When Capt’ said to keep on top of our training even after missions, I’m positive he didn't mean this.” A gruff voice states, slicing through the panic in your heart to make you look up in surprise only to be met with the familiar face of the other team’s lieutenant. He had been yours for a mission, but other than that, you had no experience talking to him other than the shared chats in the mess hall with a couple other sergeants in his team. You often made an effort to catch up with others on the weekend, and despite not even being in their taskforce, you wormed your way into being invited to all of their small chats.

Even so, this was very different from just a normal chat about the new K9s or the tough Russia mission another group was on. It was nearly three thirty in the morning, and if you weren't so shook by the buzzing creature, you definitely would’ve noticed the way his eyes rake slowly over your trembling form. Not like he was trying to check you out—jaw-dropped and tangled hair definitely was not your best look. When you don’t respond but instead just look at him like a deer in headlights, he raises a brow beneath the mask, his eyes visibly widening as your shaking state. “You look like someone just threw a grenade into your room.” He scoffs, still trying to figure out why the hell you’re just panting like that. “Get in here.”

Soon enough you manage to push your feet to walk past his intimidating form into his private quarters. You can’t tell if you’re lucky or extremely cursed to have garnered his attention of all people, considering he was known for being a no-nonsense type of guy. At least with Gaz or Soap, you could’ve at least tried to argue why you were absolutely terrified of such a small bug. He doesn't fail to notice the way your head flings back when the door buzzes as he locks it, your eyes turning into saucers before you quickly realise you were worked up over nothing and snap your gaze back to the ground. As predicted, he doesn't bother to ask you to sit and gets right to the root of the problem.

“So are ya gonna tell me why the hell you ran down from your room, at the end of the barracks, to the entrance?” If he wasn't covered by that black balaclava, you’re positive he would’ve raised a judging brow at you long ago. He doesn’t let you escape it just because of that and instead opts to narrow his eyes to really enforce it. “Well um..” You begin, suddenly at a loss for words for once in your life. Maybe it’s because you’re still shaken, or the fact you’re in fluffy bunny slippers in front of a lieutenant, or maybe it’s because he’s staring down at you like you’re a kid again, wiping the spilling tears from your eyes as you try and steady your voice. That’s far too many maybe’s to let you think straight, so you opt for the best response—the vaguest one—in an attempt to save a shred of your dignity. “I got startled by something.”

Great, he’s eyeing you even more than before; you should’ve cartwheeled down the corridor too while you were at it—maybe you could have convinced him you were in the circus. “Which was?” His large arms cross over his torso, years of strenuous work hidden by just a thin black shirt. Your teeth graze your lips awkwardly, trying to ignore the small pit of shame in your stomach for overreacting so much. This wasn't you, and yet you were still somewhat trembling where you stood. “It was..” Placing your hands on your hips, you force a sheepish smile, pretending like it wasn’t as serious to you. “There was a…uh.. thing flying around my room. Buzzed a lot—you know those um, things..” You babble, trying to reach the point and yet not getting even close to the answer he wants in the slightest. He lets out another scoff at your reluctant demeanour, clearly on the tipping point with how terrified you looked, stumbling over your words and your eyes practically like moons in their sockets. “A fly?” He suggests as he tilts his head down at you, which makes you shrink just a little.

“No.. uhh. bigger.”

“A bee?”

“No.. the uh.. the ones that can sting multiple times.”

“A wasp?”

“Yes- but no… worse than those.”

“Damn it, sergeant, spit it out!” He exclaims, his head shaking exasperatedly as he places his rough hands onto your shoulders, and gives you a light shake. “It was a hornet—a damn hornet, okay? I was terrified of a hornet in my room.” He suddenly lets go of his firm grip on your shoulders and you almost topple over from the lack of support keeping you upright since your heart is way too occupied trying to compensate for all the oxygen you just used acting like a lunatic. When you see him let out a heavy sigh and rub his temples with his hand, you’re already planning the walk of shame out of his room and back into the hell you only just escaped. “I- I overreacted; it’s fine. I’ll just go back-“ You begin, scrambling to save the shards of your dignity that shattered the moment he caught you in this pathetic state. Your foot pivots, ready to turn on your heel and make a dash for it before his hand swiftly catches your wrist, halting any movement you intended to make. ”Where is it?”

”What?”

”The hornet, where is it in your room?”

The walk back to your room is deathly silent, partially because it is three thirty in the morning and partially because Ghost has never been on the vocal side anyway. It’s not like you were intent on filling the quiet anyway, already dreading having to hear that horrifying thing again. Eventually, you reach the door of your room again and you open it with the spare key attached to your phone case. It’s more of a card than a key, and the room opens with another small buzz, which of course makes your heart jump no matter how much you mentally pumped yourself up before reaching the door. Of course, that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he turns to you before he unlocks the door, looking a little annoyed, but you can't really tell as you try to calm the thump. “Stay here.”

Despite your fear, you can't help but peek in after he enters, watching how he stalks around the room like he’s preparing for a murder. He checks the bed first, shaking the sheets to see if it has landed there but nothing seems to come about. Thankfully, he seems to take your fear somewhat seriously, and even waves your spare towel around the room to startle the creature out of hiding so he can chase it out for good. Just your luck; nothing appears in the slightest, and he’s approaching you again, a tired look in his eyes, and you suddenly feel guilty for wasting his time. Why did that damn thing just have to disappear right now?

“Ghost—I swear, it was literally buzzing around like crazy. I could hear it like it was literally in my ear!”

“Must’ve flown out. Just close your windows; It’s yer fault for opening that big anyway.”

The exasperated look quickly returns to his face as he starts to head for the door, convinced by the theory he had chosen.

”But what if it’s still in the room and I close the windows? I’d trap it with me!” That makes him pause for a second—what the hell has gotten into you?

”What do you want to open the window and coax another one in? You’d rather two than one?”

By the tone of his voice, though it never really changes, it’s clear he’s not impressed by your very irrational thinking, and you can’t exactly argue with his words. However, having to sleep with even one of those things near you was a million times worse in your head than being an idiot in front of him and whoever else might’ve witnessed your antics earlier. That’d be revealed the next morning, but for now you were pretty adamant about your own words.

”Ghost, you have to believe me. Before I went to bed, I heard the buzzing, and I literally searched the entire room like it was an assigned mission! Then as soon as I woke—It’s just there in my face; my windows aren't open that much anyway!” You say frantically, your voice rising to a much higher pitch which leaves your fear on clear display for him to see.

He cannot deny it; he’s never seen you so worked up in the past four years he’s known you. Even with spiders, other bugs, and bees, you had never been this stressed over their existence, but it seemed to shake you to your very core this time. Hands flailing about, flushed cheeks and hair like a bird's nest on your head— the last time you were this dishevelled it was because of a damn explosive that went off right next to where you were stationed. He’s about to open his mouth when he hears a sudden buzz, but it’s not in a specific part of the room, and even for a lieutenant like himself, he can’t even figure out what direction it is in. You squeal before he can even glance at you, already dashing to hide right behind him, which happens to be right next to the door as well. He can't exactly argue with that when he had just heard it himself. “Wait outside the room.” He orders, and this time you don’t hesitate, closing the door firmly behind you.

Anxiously, your slipper taps against the floor as you wait for him to emerge from the room and tell you the news you wanted to hear. Unfortunately, it was much worse than you originally expected. “Seems to be a wasp nest near yer window.” His arms cross over his chest as he leans against the door of your room, unaware of the way your heart just stopped at that single sentence. “There's nothing in your room, though. They’re in the space between yer ceiling’s insulation and the roof.” He attempts to reassure you, thinking surely you’d just go back to sleep since you’re usually quite rational.

He definitely wasn't expecting your teeth to graze your lip as you bite down, trembling with eyes practically wide as saucers. “There’s a nest…?”You practically whisper out, not even daring to blink for a second. That makes him raise his brow— didn't he just tell you that? “Yes but it’s in the rafter—“

“I can't sleep there—I heard it, I saw it above me! What if they get fed up with the lack of space and come into my room? What if someone next door makes a loud noise and it scares them so hard they all come into my room?!” You begin, practically pacing back and forth outside your room now with him left in complete shock.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Sergea-“ He begins, but you cut him off, still frantically pacing and reciting all the possible outcomes in hushed whispers.

“They could like the smell of the perfume I bought and come in, or maybe they’re already in my room stuck behind a cabinet or somewhere—they’ll be so angry when they come out, right?” You suddenly halt to a stop and look down at your pyjamas, the bunnies patterned across, though your shorts has a flower printed across the pocket.

“Ghost— what if they think this is a real flower and chase after me?!” He slaps his glove across your mouth before you can continue your incessant talking, leaving you mumbling against his hand with your pupils blown wide.

“They’re the damn size of yer thumb, Sergeant. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Even though it’s the same gruff British voice, there's a hint of concern beneath it as his sharp eyes bore into your own. You’ve never quite been this up close with him before, especially since you were more of a friend of a friend than his actual friend. Though, then again, you had no idea who he even considered his actual friends. You didn't know much about him at all. So you instantly fall quiet, even when he eventually steps back and crosses his arms, still close enough to intimidate you. “They’re really loud...” You say, voice still a hushed whisper since it is the dead of night and you’d rather not get a scolding tomorrow. “Sorry.. I- i’ll just go to sleep.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you stiffly turn on your heel, turning back into the lion's den, also known as your room.

Ghost is a straightforward man; he doesn’t mess around with what-ifs or irrationality. He prefers to get the job done as soon as possible and as efficiently as possible. He didn’t get his reputation for just doing his work; it’s how he does his work. That also includes knowing the people around him, especially the people in his team—working solo isn't always the way to go; he’s not stupid to compromise the mission just because he prefers his own company. It also meant he grew to appreciate the help of other soldiers—specifically the way you constantly saved him and his teammates’ asses on the last mission. In fact, he saw it all too well the way you had a constant eye on them, no matter how experienced they were compared to you. You were quick to give up your rations for Soap, even faster to bandage up Gaz’s scrape when you reached the safe house. He supposes you deserve at least a good night's sleep after all you’ve done.

When he sees you practically trembling, trying to turn to the door handle, his hand lands on your arm, stopping you before you enter.

“I never said you had to sleep there.” He could practically feel your fear radiating off of you, and despite his usual notions, he couldn’t just leave you with the way you were shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Then where am I supposed to sleep..?”

He turns a blind eye when you suddenly hook your finger around the sleeve of his shirt, having heard a small noise that startled you. Now that you’re sure you’ll be safe from the hornets, you’re able to finally relax your mind, and you start to let your eyes wander. That's how you suddenly realised that Ghost was in his usual training outfit, a tight black sleeve shirt and dark grey sweatpants. You had seen him in this before, but you never knew that he trained this late at night.

“Were you training before I.. y'know, ran down the corridor?” You tilt your head as you walk alongside him, your slippers making soft patters against the flooring. “Yeah, I had just come back when I heard you making a racket.”

“I was not making a racket!”

He gives you a deadpan look, making you drop your hand from his sleeve and a small frown to curve on your lips. “Alright, maybe I was a little loud. Is anyone even in the gym this late..?” You ask, a finger tapping your chin thoughtfully, and he just lets out a grumble in response.

“No.”

“So you’re trying to avoid everyone?”

“You’re still making a racket.”

He opens the door of his room for you the second time that night, allowing you inside. His room is the standard: desk, chair, bed, and closet although he has a few weights in a corner too. Does he ever stop training? He gestures for you to walk forward, which you do without question, and he follows behind you before patting the bed and speaking once more.

“Go on, I'll take the floor. You’ve been up long enough.”

You give him a grateful nod, sliding your slippers off at the foot of his bed before awkwardly walking over to the edge of his bed. Just before you get in, you pause, your teeth scraping against each other uncomfortably before you glance at him. “Are you sure? I can just go back, y'know, suck it up. It’s just an insect.“ He cuts you off as he heads to his closet, pulling back a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants to wear to bed, wanting to get out of his sweaty gym wear even if you couldn’t smell anything when walking beside him. “For the most rational soldier of your age in this base, you sure did act like you’d been shot. So no, I don't think you can just go back with how terrified you clearly are.”

“But-“

“Do you want to shit yourself over a hornet hiding underneath your pillow?”

You have to hold back a squeal at the mere thought and quickly nod, climbing beneath his thick duvets and settling your head onto the pillows. It’s obvious you're exhausted by the way your eyes are drooping, and he quietly steps into the bathroom to shower and change, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by his presence looming around. Unfortunately, when he returns, you’re still tossing over, jumping at every little creak of the door and whistling of the wind from his curtains.

“What’s wrong now?” He asks gruffly, some part of him knowing well that he won't even get a proper answer to that question.

“Nothing’s wrong..” The voice that had previously been frantic and panicked is much quieter now, slightly muffled by the covers as you bury your face into one of his pillows. He can't even stop himself as he makes his way over to the side of the bed where you lay, sitting on a chair and rolling it forward so he’s in front of you. Your cheeks are smushed against the bed, duvet tight over you, and covering your ears as well. He faintly remembers you mentioning that you could hear it in your ear, so he’s sure you’re likely traumatised by that too. “You still haven’t fallen asleep, and it’s four am. Didn't you just get back from a mission?”

“Yeah, but..”

“But what?”

“I feel bad.” You murmur, letting out a small huff in annoyance. “Can’t you sleep in the bed too? I don't want you sleepin’ on the hard floor.”

He rolls his eyes at your incessant complaining, placing a steady hand onto your head to annoy you with the sheer weight of it. Surprisingly, it’s less of a scolding that you’d receive in training and more of a pat. You hadn't realised he could actually be well…nice. “I’ve slept in far worse places, trust me. I have a feelin’ that's not what’s still keeping you up though.” Most would let you get away with such a thing, but he’s determined to at least get you to admit the core cause of this whole issue. After all, he can’t help if he doesn’t know, and seeing as you’re still shaken, there's definitely a reason behind this. “My feet barely touch the end of this bed; just get in.” You ignore the second part of his statement entirely, quickly butting it with our small voice. He wasn't used to sleeping beside someone, not that he’d ever get worked up if the situation came to where he had to do so. It was the same with touching people—he didn’t like it, but he was no coward; he liked to think that he could handle anything thrown at him. Not that he has an ego either.

So, with a reluctant grunt to show his annoyance, he slides underneath the covers beside you, his large body practically engulfing your shorter form. This is exactly why he didn’t want to— you were practically going to fall off the bed at this rate. It’s obvious you’re on the same page as him now as you shuffle around, trying to not touch him yet also not meet your fate for the second time tonight. It wasn't like you’d consider complaining anyway; you had practically disturbed enough of his night, and you were also slightly terrified of worsening his current opinion of you.

”You’re uncomfortable, aren't you?”

You can’t help but nod as you slowly roll over, meeting his brown eyes that narrow at you through the holes in his mask that allow you to just read a hint of emotion on his face if he ever decides to let it show. He’s about to get back up again when he watches your eyes widen and you quickly speak up. “I shouldn't even stay here; I'm not even going to be able to sleep..” That makes him raise a brow, and for some reason, he pulls the covers higher over you as he settles on his back, head slightly turned to face you. “Why not?”

”I’ll uh.. I'm worried that I'll hear it again, yknow, the hornets.” You mumble out, not wanting to beat around the bush much longer than you have. If he must find out that you secretly are a coward, especially to insects with stingers, so be it. It’s better than lying to him and then he forces the truth out of you.

You’re expecting your fourth judging look of the night when he just lets out a heavy sigh, resting his arms behind his head. “So, you’ll be too scared to sleep?” He doesn't need to turn his head to imagine your sheepish nod. “You know, I'll kill it, right? I don’t ever give those cheeky bastards a chance.” However, there’s still an uncertainty in your voice, despite his confidence in his own abilities. “But what if you can't find it and-“ It’s clear it’s more than the idea; it’s a deep-rooted paranoia that sets you off as soon as you hear the noise of them. He’d never thought he’d come close to ever thinking about doing this—even when Johnny teased him when he was caught staring in bars or even when he had been younger and his hormones had been wack. In fact, he’s been more affectionate to that K9 Riley than he’s ever been with a woman, yet here he is, lifting his arm and beckoning you over.

”Come ‘ere then. You’re shaking, Sergeant.”

You glance down at your hands, which are indeed trembling, but you’re more occupied with his invitation to come and lay down beside him—literally to press your face against the side of his chest and have his arm tucked behind your body as you doze off. The mere thought sounds like something that should be forbidden, especially with someone as stoic as him who has plenty of rumours surrounding his deadly skills on the battlefield. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, the need to settle the fear in your heart leading you to shuffle a little closer before you catch yourself; your body goes stiff as a board as you contemplate the situation through your muddled head. If you said no, you’d make it weird, but if you said yes, does that change anything between the two of you? When he speaks again, you’re half expecting him to tell you to hurry up or the like, but instead he just lets out a gruff shrug. “You don't have to, just an offer.”

That’s enough to convince you, and you finally give into your fears, settling right beneath his arm. He doesn't bother to ask this time, taking your movement as permission as he tucks his arm around you and pulls you easily into his side. “Breathe; you’re as tense as a damn rookie.”

“Fine, don't go complainin’ then.”

His insistence makes you grumble, slowly growing frustrated at your own pathetic display of fear that you press your cheek into his shoulder and an arm lazily resting over his chest—half expecting him to scoff at your slightly clingy behaviour. You don’t quite see the smirk he hides beneath the balaclava, tugging the duvets snugly over your huffy form before his hand lazily pats your back, easing the anxiety that knotted your muscles.

Trying to stay professional is near impossible when you can hear the thump of his heart beneath your ear—the sound crawling through the canal and seeping into your brain like a sweet serotonin shot. It’s steady and somehow peaceful, a constant reminder that you’re now safe from the deadly silence that makes you wait for the worst. It allows your lashes to finally press against your skin, the lines in your forehead easing as you begin to lose yourself. You know for absolute sure now that for as long as you hear the thump of his heart and his arms swallowing your smaller stature whole, no fears will consume you tonight, nor will anything harm you ever again.

bonus:

“Five more minutes..”

The mumbles leave your mouth as you steady the horse you ride upon, a lasso in your hand as you ride through the barren land. It’s so exhilarating—the air on your face as you rush through the land—well, it would be if not for the constant nagging you feel on your cheek.

“Stop that—“

You frown, bringing a hand up to your cheek as you force you and your horse to halt to a stop, surprised to feel something there despite you being the only one upon this beauty.

“What?”

You snap awake, eyes fluttering open to see the blur of a skull balaclava before you and your body being slightly squeezed. Not to mention, your hand was holding another’s which was gently prodding at your cheek but now stopped.

“G-ghost?”

You blink in confusion, the world before you finally clearing up before you finally realise that you’re still curled up against him, though much closer to his neck now, and well, your legs have somehow managed to hook on top of his.

“Took ya long enough, sleepyhead. Kept mumbling about your next ‘bounty’.” His gruff voice rings out, the air from your dream now revealed to be his warm breath before he sits up properly as do you.

“Had a dream that I was a cowboy..”

You reluctantly admit, still half awake as you rub at your eyes, unable to escape from his comfortable hold on you.

“Try explaining that to the others then. They’ve been waiting all morning for you to reply to their messages.”

That makes you blink again, grabbing your phone just to realise it was twelve in the afternoon. Now that you think about it, Ghost had his gloves back on as well as his typical army shirt and cargo pants.

“What?! Why didn't you wake me?”

You exclaim, scrambling up before he rolls his eyes and almost hesitantly pulls his hands from you.

“You were out like a light; besides, it is your rest day. I’ve already cleared out your room and called pest control for the nest to be removed, so get your ass up and go get changed; we’re leaving at twenty.”

Your eyes light up at his confession of what he had achieved all while you had snoozed in his bed, lips slowly widening as you realise he had sorted the problem right through the core for you. Quickly, you swing your legs off of the bed and back into your slippers again before noticing the army attire he had brought for you to change into so you didn't have to walk the halls in your pyjamas.

“Thank you, Ghost.”

You say warmly, bundling the clothes in your hands. “I mean it.”

“Hmph. And I mean it when I say you’ll be late.” He huffs out, watching as you stand before him, all giddy and raring to go for the first time in a while. “You weren’t wrong by the way. They’re mostly active in the early hours of the mornin’ so that’s why you didn’t see anything until you woke up a few hours later.” Your face falls in relief at that, looking happier than before— if that was even possible.

“I suppose if you’re still scared that they could magically return—“ He rolls his eyes, emphasising your irrationality from the night prior despite having just proven that wrong. “— you’re welcome to sleep here. Only in emergencies, got it?”

“Yes sir.” You grin before he quickly dismisses you, getting up from bed to continue his duties around base. “18 minutes now; don’t make Johnny wait for you.” Your eyes go wide, and you quickly scamper into the bathroom to change, his eyes still locked onto you until you disappear behind the door. He kind of regrets fixing your problem now; he should’ve at least let it fester for a day or two more.

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal. 

  The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly. 

  He fought with the first responders. 

  Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance. 

  He refused to leave you. 

  He didn’t need to be cared for. 

  He didn’t care about anything. 

  Only you.

  Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand. 

  Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet. 

  And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours. 

  His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

  “What have we got?” 

  “According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..” 

  I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her! 

  “…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

  “Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!” 

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

  “Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.” 

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore. 

  When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room. 

  “So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,” 

  Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.” 

  His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

  “Stolen costume,”

  “Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot. 

— 

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?” 

  Sterile. 

  Chemical.

  You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t. 

  Is this death?

  Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening. 

  The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face. 

  Oblivious to your surroundings. 

  “Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?” 

  “CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

  “Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,” 

  “they both did.” 

  You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and  immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body. 

—

  He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described. 

  “I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

  He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out. 

  Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him. 

  “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

  And maybe your love for him was always there. 

  Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed. 

  Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it. 

  -

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

  The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face. 

  The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

  A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury. 

  “Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles. 

  Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

  But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!” 

  The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

  “Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

  She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

  “Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown. 

  “Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.” 

  Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.” 

  Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission. 

  “Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip  teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!” 

  Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

  “Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.” 

  “Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

  He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip. 

  “Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?” 

  “In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

  “Not exactly…”

  “Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

  “Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.” 

  Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head. 

  Oh my God

  …Tooty

  Holy shit.

  “That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

  Eddie.

  Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall? 

  “…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace. 

  “No, Mr. Munson..”

  This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

  “…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.” 

  A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.  

  Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie. 

  His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion. 

  REWIND

  PLAY

  The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole. 

  REWIND 

  PLAY

  PAUSE 

  Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe. 

  STOP

  EJECT 

  The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here. 

  You were alone.

  He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once. 

  But not fear. 

  He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep. 

  He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands. 

  You were experiencing this pain all by yourself. 

  He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous. 

  Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?  

  Why didn’t anyone tell him? 

  His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed. 

  “How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard. 

  “Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!” 

  Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.” 

  “Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them. 

  In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

  The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone? 

  There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave. 

  Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man. 

  He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket. 

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck. 

  Surely not their son? Their angel?

  But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground. 

  Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles. 

  Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes. 

  Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare. 

  The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes. 

  He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed. 

-

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain. 

  Eddie never left. 

  Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable. 

  Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent. 

  One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him. 

  The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

  But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about. 

  The one you cried for. 

  The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

  His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue. 

  It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 

  His girl. His whole world. Awake.

[slowd1ving]

[REVISED: THE CONCEPT OF FRIENDSHIP] SNIPPET .・゜DAN HENG NSFW

upon reflection, I realised it could be pretty fun to post small excerpts of the chapters/things I'm writing since ik my works can be pretty long hopefully this entices more people to read the pieces (fingers crossed)

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

DRINKER OF THE MOON, DEVOURER OF DREAMS MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

What’s the cause of it all?

It might’ve been catalysed by the dizzying feeling playing on his mind that started a while ago. He’s entranced: wandering through a fog that seems to have no end, all in the hopes of catching a glimpse of whatever’s making his heart flutter all hummingbird-like. 

Or maybe it’s the faint traces of you still clinging to the air. 

At first, he can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. When he turns his head on his pillow, the strands of a clean soap grow stronger—so he reaches out. His fingers brush against soft fabric, and the man freezes with his fist clenched around your sweater. 

It’s yours. 

Somehow, your presence hasn’t yet been washed out from the threads. And for whatever damned reason, pressing it near his face is lulling him into a better stupor than that cursed drink ever did. 

It’s not enough. 

He buries his face in the material—by now, he’s practically drinking in all the intricacies of your scent. Inhale. Notes of orange peel, the subtle shift of soap, and the disorienting tang of diesel. Exhale. His mouth is half-open: too caught up in the throes of whatever this is to close. Unbearable. That’s what it is: a deep tension right below his navel that forces him to slowly lose his senses. 

One hand is firmly clenched around the fabric pressed to his face, while the other discards the stifling blanket that’s only suffocating him further. But as he does so, he accidentally brushes against the front of his sweatpants.

His heart skips a beat, then bangs against his ribcage particularly loudly. 

“Ah,” he gasps out. A chaotic pulse registers, deafening, along his ear canal. There’s a realisation that trickles honey-slow through his brain. It’s not like he’s explored this way of tiring himself out.

Aeons. 

He’s never felt so perverted. 

He’s never felt so conflicted.

[heliads]

Hii! Here we go, a request for Kaz x reader based on the song "Later never comes" from Scrooge. I think it could go in so many ways and I'm really excited to see what you envision for this particular fic!! Your writing never ceases to amaze me Lisa! Once again, thank you for listening!!😌✨️ (little kaz gif for inspiration)

what a song for what a man

masterlist

Kaz Brekker is not the type for pretty sentiment nor glowing praise. It is notoriously difficult to be near him as anything more than an enemy, which is part of what makes the Dregs so deadly as a gang. If they can put up with Dirtyhands for months at a time without losing their minds or their will to live, well, they can do just about anything. So they do.

You, then, are a wholly different substance. Not only are you Kaz’s friend, you’re in a relationship with him. Every damned soul this side of the True Sea and half those on the foreign shores, too, know not to mess with Kaz’s girl. You convinced the coldest heart in the world to fall in love, that must count for something.

You’d like it to count for something, at least, and at the beginning, it did. You and Kaz were unstoppable. He had a goal to rise above the ranks of petty thugs and street criminals, to lead the best Barrel gang and crush the others while he was at it. You helped him with it, and swore to be by his side until the sky finally fell.

It was good back then. More simple than now, at least, although it didn’t feel that way. What you’ve learned since those early days is that money tends to bring more trouble than anyone expects. Sure, as someone who’ll be a canal rat from their first breath until their last, you appreciate being able to have food in your stomach and a warm roof to keep you dry more than anyone, but you also know what it did to Kaz, and that’s something terrible, too.

The problem with finally getting to the top is that you have to stay there as well. Kaz spends every waking moment scouting out his enemies, making sure they’re too weak to stand against him and fighting them off if they ever reach that point. He runs through his sums and profits until the numbers swim behind his eyes. Business is booming, he’s recruiting more loyal soldiers by the day, and through all of it, he makes less and less time for you by the hour.

You knew exactly what to expect when you fell in love with Kaz in the first place. Greed is his god, his servant, his lever, his only reason for existence. He likes to say that he controls it, but it controls him just as much. Remove gold from Kaz and his entire empire plummets. You share that too, you loved him just enough to keep making excuses for his wealth knowing it would fill your pockets too, but you’re reaching your limit.

You didn’t think you could feel lonely in a city like this. The Barrel is crawling with people of every kind, saints and sinners and criminals such as yourself. The Slat alone is filled to the brim with the other Dregs. You’ve befriended as many as you could stomach, using their teasing banter to fill the increasing gap between your ribs that Kaz had once filled.

Even stepping outside the door has you washed away in a flood of conversation. Dozens of languages spin from hundreds of windows. Walk two streets down and it’s as if you’ve crossed five national borders. Ketterdam is a thriving mess of rotten civilization, thousands of souls spilling between your fingers wherever you go. It has never been quiet, and when the silence threatens to tear you apart, constant noise is here whenever you need it.

Recently, you’ve relied on that ceaseless din more than ever before. You talk to your friends, you complete your jobs, you count your coin just like your boyfriend, but it doesn’t stop you from remembering how it had felt to have Kaz back with you. You used to spend hours with him in his study, both of you poring through documents or mapping out a future.

Now, you can hardly take a step into his study without him asking you to leave him be. You’re not the only one facing his wrath; Inej and Jesper have also shared similar stories, but it hits doubly hard when you remember that you’re supposed to be the one easing the pain from Kaz’s life. Every time you try to reach out, he cuts you off with a blow of business and profits. There’s just no getting through to him.

So, you start pulling yourself back as well. The separation doesn’t hurt nearly as much if you stop giving Kaz chances to reject you again and again. You stop taking the rickety steps up to Kaz’s office, he never visited you anyway, so why should you waste your time on something he clearly doesn’t want? Kaz never leaves his work for meals, so you stop inviting him to eat with you. Might as well save your breath for people who’ll listen to you.

Inej knows how you feel, of course she does. There has yet to be a secret in this world hidden from the Wraith, and yours are no exception. She picked up on your gloom in about half a second, even before you realized how much you were hurting from Kaz’s absence. 

She encouraged you to tell Kaz how you felt, insisting that Kaz was unaware of many human emotions, and he wasn’t likely to realize you were unhappy unless you told him. You tried many times and gave up after the ninth attempt. Each time you began that conversation, he dismissed you with a wave of his hand and a new excuse about work consuming his time yet again.

So you stopped trying. It’s funny, you’ve never had a problem with persistence in your life. The Barrel was not made for those who lay down and die after the smallest grievance. You clawed your way up to survive with bleeding palms, yet it is Kaz’s slights that hurt you like nothing else.

Every day feels like a fresh blow, knowing that he’s in the very same building as you yet refuses to see you for a second. After suffering death by a thousand cuts for the third month in a row, your broken heart slowly realizes what it has to do. If you want to live with the slimmest chance of happiness, you have to remove yourself from a situation in which you are not your lover’s priority.

There’s a train heading towards the rural, central parts of Kerch, closer to Belendt than Ketterdam. You’ve booked yourself passage there. A good opportunity awaits you:  there’s a small hospital that’s found itself frantically growing. In need of a new owner, it sent out ads that reached your ears. As someone with a deep knowledge of crime and danger, someone who isn’t likely to be intimidated by threats by rivals, you’re a top candidate. You applied and heard back almost immediately with a resounding yes.

Just before you accepted the job and left, you gave Kaz one more chance. This time, you aren’t going to swallow back your words, even when he tries to dismiss you at the door. You knock once at his office door, balling your hands into fists at your sides for some semblance of strength before letting yourself inside.

Kaz looks up briefly, but you don’t think his eyes even manage to make it all the way up to yours before they snap back to the mess of papers in front of him. “Now isn’t a good time, Y/N.”

You clear your throat. “It needs to be now. There’s something you need to know.”

He sighs, still staring at the addendums to this month’s sums. “Does it have to do with business?”

“Yes and no,” you begin, but Kaz cuts you off.

“If it’s not urgent, it’s going to be a problem for later. I don’t have time for lesser concerns.” He says.

You refuse to move. “Later isn’t really a thing for you, Kaz. We’ve been waiting on later for months.”

“Have we?” He asks. As you watch, his attention slips away from you like grains of sand down an hourglass. Before your very eyes, he’s almost forgotten you’re there.

You take a breath in and out, then force yourself to speak again. “There’s a hospital in central Kerch in need of an owner. I’m moving out to take the position. This is the first time I’ve ever left Ketterdam, but it’s going to be good. It’s a lovely place, and the patients are in need of help. It’s a very nice opportunity.”

“Yes,” Kaz mutters absently, “very nice.”

You blink at him in surprise, but realize that he’s just parroting your words back at you. Despite the fact that you just confessed to leaving him behind, Kaz hasn’t picked up on a single syllable out of line. This is the last sign you need to know that you need to go. This is not a place where you are the center of anyone’s attention, so you might as well find somewhere else where you are.

“Goodbye, Kaz,” you say at last.

He doesn’t even manage a cohesive phrase in farewell, just keeps his eyes studiously scanning the page until the door closes behind you. Inej is waiting in the hall outside, perched up on the railing of the staircase.

“Well?” She asks hopefully, legs swinging in the air, “how’d it go?”

You shake your head tersely. “He didn’t even listen. I told him I was finding a new job and nothing happened.”

Inej’s face falls. “No. I really thought he’d react to that, but he didn’t in the slightest?”

“Not at all,” you confirm, “and that’s it, I think. There’s a train headed out tomorrow, I already bought my ticket.”

Inej’s lips twist into a frown. “You knew he wouldn’t respond?”

You nod. “Of course he wouldn’t. Kaz is Kaz, he was never meant to love someone like me. I don’t know what I was thinking to believe I could be the exception, but I was wrong. Kaz doesn’t want someone like that, certainly not me.”

“That just means he’s blind,” Inej declares, “you’re better than he deserves, Y/N. I’m sorry he can’t see that.”

“I’m sorry too,” you exhale, “but it’s over now.”

And so it is. You wake up early to catch your train, and Inej insists on seeing you off. You think she’s doing it in some part to convince you to stay, but your mind is made up. This is not a home for you, not anymore. Not until the people you love come to love you back once again. Until then, you need to clear your head by leaving.

You give Inej your address, just in case. If there was anyone in this world you’d trust to keep your secret, it would be her. She waves goodbye until the train disappears around the corner and you can see her no longer. After that, you’re left to the great unknown. You can only hope that it will hold half the contentment you’ve been missing for so long.

…

Something is wrong, and Kaz knows it. The feeling has been itching at him for days now, this unsettling sensation telling him that all is not right in his world. Kaz does not like this feeling, he never has. Dirtyhands is always in control of his surroundings; Fate bows to him, that’s how it has always been. Even when he’s temporarily down, Kaz can conjure up a solution to fix whatever comes his way.

It would be nice, then, if he could figure out what the issue was. Kaz rarely has trouble immersing himself in anything but work, but he finds himself unable to focus now. Even the allure of more jobs and more kruge cease to luster in the same way.

After what is probably a shamefully long time, it occurs to Kaz that he hasn’t seen Y/N in quite a while. She usually drops by his office with a word of good news or a smile, bright spots in the midst of this gleefully dismal city, but Kaz doesn’t think he’s seen her in days. Since that feeling of trouble started, actually.

In a place like the Barrel, unsettling coincidences and strange absences usually mean someone has been murdered, so Kaz doesn’t think he’ll be able to rest until he has confirmation that Y/N is alright. Despite his best attempts at making sure he has no weakness, he can decisively say that Y/N would be just that. His traitorous heart has a way of skipping a beat when she’s around, a habit he tried to cure himself of at least a dozen times yet just made stronger by the day.

Yes, he needs her, and yes, her lack of visibility in his life is most certainly messing with his head. Kaz departs his office and heads down the stairs to her room in the Slat. He knocks once, waits, hears nothing, then knocks again. Of course, it is no trouble at all to assume that Y/N is merely busy or out on some other job, but for some reason Kaz gets the feeling this isn’t the case.

For one thing, there are no lights on inside, not even a small oil lamp left to heat the place. For another, Jesper accidentally upset an inkwell on this stairwell a while ago, and judging by the pool of black still undisturbed by her threshold, no one has entered or left this door in a couple of days.

Kaz is seriously starting to worry now. There’s one person who knows everything in this place, so he turns to track down Inej in the hopes of finding out if she’s seen anything. When he looks back towards the stairs, though, he realizes that she’s beat him to the punch. Inej has appeared out of the gloom to lean against the stairwell, eyes wide and expectant.

Kaz’s fingers harden around the crow’s head of his cane. “What do you know?” He asks, cutting to the chase.

Inej arches a brow. “About what?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t feign ignorance, Inej, I know you have some hand in this. Where is Y/N?”

Inej folds her arms across her chest. “You know, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”

Kaz doesn’t remember walking over to her, only that he blinks and he’s looming over her, the slow cold of rage icing over his veins. “Wraith, I am not in the mood for games. Tell me where Y/N is or–”

Inej has rarely been frightened of him, and she certainly isn’t now. “Or what, Kaz, you’ll ignore her again? Do you know how long Y/N has been coming to me, distraught because you refuse to give her the time of day? She’s been trying for so long to convince you to love her, and she left because she realized that you never would.”

Kaz feels thunderstruck. “What do you mean she left? And why would she think that?”

Inej gives him one of her knowing looks. “Y/N wanted to find someplace she could live where the people around her wouldn’t push her away every time she spoke to them. And don’t glare at me like that, Brekker, because I tried to talk her out of it so many times. That’s more than you, by the way. She told you she was leaving straight to your face and you didn’t even notice.”

Kaz opens his mouth to say that’s not true, that he would absolutely have picked up on Y/N mentioning that, and then he remembers the last time she dropped by his office. He’d been distracted by reports that Pekka’s profits had been growing. She had something about— about— a hospital, yes, that was it, someplace nice. She was going someplace nice, and he hadn’t realized it in the slightest. 

Kaz raises a gloved hand to his temple. “She said goodbye and I acted like nothing happened. Kept telling her we’d talk later.”

Inej nods knowingly. “Later never comes, Kaz. None of us have time for such promises.”

He scowls at her. It’s always easier to hate someone else than himself, although he can’t quite manage it now.  “Alright, then, if I wanted to go about fixing things, how would I do it? Where is she?”

Inej refuses to divulge that information quite yet. “Do you really want to fix things? You spent all this time ignoring her. Why should you force your way back into her life just to do it again in a couple more months?”

Kaz sighs, the ghostly sound of his regrets leaving him in the same manner as a soul:  all yearning, all hopeless musing that nothing will ever be better. “Because now I know what it’s like to be without her, and I don’t ever want to do that again.”

“Even for kruge?” Inej asks, still suspicious. 

“Even for kruge,” Kaz answers, fighting a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Is he really so predictable that she’d have to ask?

Inej eyes him a moment longer, then sighs and relents. “Alright, then. What you’re going to want to do is take a train south, away from the city…”

Kaz hasn’t thought about leaving the Barrel in quite some time. He almost doubted he could leave, like the city has such a deep chokehold on him that his lungs would give out the second he passed the borders of Ketterdam. Forget the fact that he’s been as far as Fjerda, Ravka, and the like; abandoning the Barrel to some distant whiff of grime and penance behind him feels like some unnameable sin. 

The feeling lessens the further he gets into the country. The rolling hills and clear skies remind him of a different time in his life, a different last name. Rietveld, not Brekker. A simple schoolboy, not an immoral conman. If Kaz were to see the boy he’d once been on the streets today, he’d probably rob him blind without a second thought. That’s what had happened to him. It’s what happens to them all. Something is taken from you, you get your revenge by taking from someone else. So the cycle continues.

Out here, though, the relentless surge of predator and prey seems farther away. Its claws slack, its hold on Kaz grows thin and tenuous. Before he knows it, he’s blinking in the bright sunlight of a Kerch that has not been his in quite some time. He was never supposed to go back. Not alone, at least.

He isn’t alone, though. He’s here for somebody. Kaz managed to pry the name of the hospital out of Inej, and he asks for directions from a nearby locomotive worker. After that, it’s just a matter of hitching a ride and heading over.

The hospital is quite busy, but even amidst the hustle and bustle, Kaz spots Y/N immediately. She’s writing down notes on a book cradled in her arms, calling out directions to people as she passes them by. Kaz takes one hesitant step forward, then two, and she sees him at last.

He’d like to say that one look at her made the uproar around him die down. Instead, he thinks it doubled in volume. The shrieks of children with sprained ankles are amplified by the erratic beating of Kaz’s heart. Younger patients swarm around him, and maybe it’s just the threat that one of them will bump into him out of nowhere but Kaz swears he starts seeing ice water instead of warm air, and limp, plague-ridden bodies instead of groaning victims. 

One elderly man with a broken leg weakly closes his eyes to preserve strength and Kaz feels his entire system lock down. Suddenly, he’s no longer Kaz Brekker, man on a mission, but the younger Rietveld boy, doomed to drown with the rest of the corpses in a city on fire.

Just when he’s sure he’s going to implode, Y/N is in front of him, somehow clearing a path across the busy scene. She gestures for him to follow and Kaz does, not trusting himself to speak lest the bile in his blood finally come out. 

Only once they’re alone in a room with the door closed can Kaz finally begin to breathe. “I came for you,” he manages to gasp out.

Y/N nods, eyeing him hesitantly as if she expects him to run. “I didn’t know if you would.”

Kaz is not so far gone that he can’t feel a pang of hurt at her words. “I didn’t realize I had sunk so low in your opinion.”

Y/N purses her lips. “I always had a high opinion of you. Months of you ignoring me, though, that made it hard to stick around.”

Kaz nods once, a mechanical motion. “You’re certainly receiving a fair amount of attention here.”

He’s not sure if he means it as a jab or not. Y/N isn’t either. “Yes, well, there’s definitely no lack of activity here,” she says crisply, “I could use some personal space, though.”

“Is that why you came all the way out here?” Kaz asks plaintively, “or was it just me?”

Y/N looks away. “Both,” she decides at last, “I’d been wondering about exploring the world and I didn’t like living in a place where the person I loved couldn’t care less about me.”

He appreciates the truth, he always has. Still, it hurts, and more than Kaz thought mere words possibly could. “I always cared about you,” he whispers. 

Y/N glances carefully back at him. “Is that why your books have spent more time on your mind than me?”

Kaz can’t ignore the dig, especially not since it’s true. “I was wrong. I grew so used to having you around that I took you for granted. You were always there. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t. I should have tried harder to make you stay.”

The words are hard to force out at first, but they get easier as time goes on. Y/N seems to accept this. “And you’ve changed in a few days? Seen the error in your ways and had a complete personality switch?”

“Well,” Kaz manages to croak, “I think that’s impossible. Even Inej’s Saints couldn’t do that.”

“Inej,” Y/N smiles, “what did you have to do to convince her to tell you where I was?”

“I told her the truth,” Kaz admits, “which is that I needed you more than anything. More than money. More than the jobs.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide. “And she believed you enough to tell you my address?”

Kaz inclines his head. “You have a job here. One you enjoy, if your activity level is any indication. I know how important that is. I won’t ask you to leave that for the Barrel if this is truly what you want.”

He hesitates, and Y/N picks up on it in a flash. “And the catch?”

Kaz levels his gaze at her. “I would, however, ask you to leave for me. If I promise you my time, would you come back?”

Y/N is silent for far too long for Kaz’s liking. At last, the faintest trace of a smile appears on her lips. “I already signed the job contract for my position at the hospital.”

Kaz feels his heart shatter on the ground. “Does that mean you can’t come back?”

Y/N shakes her head. “It means I’m glad I only signed on as a temporary measure while they look for a new candidate. I’ll tell them to hire the next in line.”

Kaz must have quite the expression, because Y/N breaks out into laughter. “Oh, don’t worry too much,” she says, “I don’t think I could ever leave Ketterdam. Not easily, at least. I knew that the second I boarded the train. Leaving has its merits, but I’ll always want to return more than I want to go.”

Kaz nods again, then steels himself and holds out his hand. “Shall we go, then?”

Y/N stares at his hand, then smiles and takes it. For once, the expected wave of revulsion upon physical contact doesn’t happen. All Kaz feels is calm, like a ship that’s been finally tied to an anchor.

“Yes,” she replies, “let’s go home.”

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

[cloudninetonine]

Please don't neglect courage (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ can you do a little drable between player and courage maybe talking about how they miss the chain while in courage's Hyrule or something relating to the ask about courage looking like Hyrule. Please 🙏🥺🙏

(Finally trying to tackle these requests-) As if I would ever neglect the lovable idiot Courage, after all, he's just so stupid not to acknowledge and love.

Courage was almost the exact opposite of Hyrule. A funny thing, really, as the man in question was supposed to be the first game boy himself, yet he differed from your fairy boy so much it was almost comedic: Hyrule was sheepish, Courage was brash, Hyrule was moulded to be sneaky and Courage was close to a barbarian in imposing figure- Courage was almost an oxymoron to all that Hyrule was made to be.

Almost. That was the keyword here. Almost- Courage was almost the complete opposite of Hyrule, but that didn’t mean there weren’t those similarities.

That sense of adventure ran strong through Courage’s veins, that spark that would dance in the eye of the traveller at the mere thought of an escapade whether it be some offroad path or a gruelling dungeon cruel, you could really see that brave young man within Courage as he walked with confidence towards any sign of a quest. 

Their looks also didn’t stray far, their builds were different but you could see the specs of green buried in rivers of forest brown when you stared into Courage’s gaze a moment too long. Ran your hands through the chestnut brown ruffles that were the man’s hair when you pulled out a leaf or helped to brush the mess every morning so Wisdom would stop demanding that Courage look “more presentable!” almost every day. No, they didn’t look the same, long lost brothers would probably be the closest Hyrule and Courage could ever be, but it didn’t stop you from catching glimpses of your fairy boy every now and again.

It brought a sense of…melancholy. You missed him so, your nicknamed Prince of the fae, and longed for him during those harder days, your heart calling out to him. Of course, this feeling wasn’t just reserved for Hyrule, you missed Wild, you missed Wind, hell, you even missed that grump Legend (Koridai certainly wasn’t helping with that) but with Courage right here, it was hard to not think of your Hero of Hyrule.

“I’m way better than him!”

Courage had approached you. 

Inevitable really, with how you were drawing yourself away from the duo heroes wanting to deal with the heartache away from the comfort of others seeing as it had the opposite effect- you only craved the Chain more the longer you spent around those damn idiots.

And, of course, they had noticed.

“This isn’t a pissing contest, Link.” You sassed, washing your face in the basin that a maid had brought you, dressed for bed after a long day of patrolling for the black-blooded. “I just said you remind me of him, I didn’t say he was better.”

Courage huffed, collapsing back into your bed and spreading himself out to take as much space as humanly possible, also dressed for bed in his light blue gown. “But he’s ‘all you can think about’.”

“Does one thing go through your ear and out the fucking other? Man alive.”

The Hero of Courage had somehow coaxed the truth out of you, well, coaxed was too soft of a word- he had dragged the information from you in the form of nagging, his voice practically grating your ear canals until finally, you broke and spoke about the feelings currently raging within you like a mutated storm. Then Courage proceeded to do what he did best.

Miss the point and whine about it.

“But that’s what you said!”

“I said that I’ve been thinking about him!”

“Because he’s just like me!”

“Link-”

“But I’m certainly better-”

“Oh my god, you’re bloody impossible!” The brunette’s mouth had snapped shut at your cry, your hands slamming down on your lap in frustration. “If you’re just gonna moan then shut up or get out!”

A familiar mutter of ‘well excuseeeee me, sunshine.’ caught your ear but you ignored it for your own sanity.

When nothing came from him the following minute you sighed, patting your face dry with a washcloth and setting it aside for the maids the next morning. 

Blowing out the lantern at your desk allowed the moon’s faint glow to shine through the stained glass of your room’s window, plastering a beautiful mosaic of pale colours throughout the space and highlighting the pillowing of your bed as you pattered over to it with heavy feet-

Seeing Courage still settled in it, still taking up the entire thing.

You glared. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting the triforce?”

He grinned something cheeky, “The fisherman offered to take my place.”

“Koridai offered to take care of the triforce? Nah, he definitely lost a bet.”

Because there was no way would offer to do such a thing.

“He offered!”

“He’d offer when he saw a pig fly.”

“Maybe he did.” His arms moved under his head, muscles defining at the stretch and Courage sent you a teasing grin. “Guess you and me are sharing tonight~”

In any other instance, this wouldn’t be the case. You weren’t one to take his arrogance lying down, that was for sure. You would have stormed out of the room to join Koridai instead, or maybe move to sleep on the floor, not caring for the cold or the dust, just maybe you would have grabbed at his leg and dragged him right off then leave him on the floor as you made yourself comfortable- but you were too tired for that, both physically and mentally, your brain working overtime to keep you in that state of exhaustion as you weighed your options for that point. You didn’t want to deal with his stupidity at that moment.

So, with a heavy sigh, you clambered into bed, making sure to push your weight into his stomach to hear him wheeze then collapsed next to him, back to him as he coughed for his stolen breath.

“Jeez, sunshine.” He hacked, “Way to steal my breath away.”

Your groan of annoyance had his cackling through coughs.

The bed shifted when silence had fallen back over the room, Courage turning your way with his eyes rolling over your curled-up form in a way that had you holding back shivers from the sheer intensity. You felt his finger gently run over your arm, a calming gesture, a kind one, a silent request to move closer that you didn’t turn down, his index trailing down the length of your arm, dipping your wrist then curling around your finger until you let him move to intertwine your hand with his.

“You don’t need to think about him-” His voice was a whisper, holding a stillness similar to that of the bedroom. “-not when you have me, I’m all the hero you need, sunshine.”

You hummed quietly, eyes closed but still alert. “Yeah? Then what does that make Koridai?”

“My sidekick, of course.”

Courage smiled at your tired snort, his head falling to rest against your nape and smile pulling at his lips the more he felt you relax, your body slotted against him like a perfect puzzle piece.

In his eyes, you were perfect, just perfect. Hard to come across these days, your personality was unmatched and your spirit strong, the connection he felt for you was undeniable. Yes, Wisdom was someone he cherished but you had climbed the tower holding his heart and stole it away with a quick quip and smirk- he liked that about you, he liked everything about you, even to him the sadness over your face held a perfection that the goddess herself would come to envy.

It didn’t mean he wanted it to stay though, no, as your hero it was his duty to return that smile to your face so hearing your tired breathless giggle when he gently kissed the back of your neck, lips tickling the skin was enough for him, moving to rest his chin atop your head as he closed his own eyes.

The quiet lasted about a minute when he muttered.

“He’s not that special anyway, I can turn into a fairy too.”

Your eyes snapped open.

“What?”

[the-firebird69]

So Hera has some announcements and she says not anymore she's going to announce the circles sizzling ooh sizzlers yeah okay this has been hell these people are complete boobs they're going to launch attacks on everyone and people are trying to tell them to slow down and the max got rid of that Shelly girl and just make it seem like you are most of the time and she feels bad and wants her mom back and she needs a mom and she should get an adoptive mom and she says who not them so she calls advising around probably grabs or Jason I'm not sure which one probably Jason yeah Uncle Jason. Or you're not that small and so she says I know which one damn it I thought you were that really small one it's like 4 ft or 3 ft so she's actually laughing cuz it's a good idea so our son will sponsor her for adoption. So the movie The Crow and some of the people that were messing with her are there and he's hitting them and their back proper he almost Latino gun shop guy and the head long haired evil guy was doing that to her and in the low desert yeah and they're getting their ass kicked already.

And this probably would be good for now we do have some concerns about this area it smells like s***. And there are people monitoring him say it really stinks in here and he's trying to just bring some air in and it's better but boy does it reek everyone's saying but it's going to rain in about an hour it says this chemicals too those are from the septic systems and the water came up now it's going down it's not chemicals it's the canals and the poop is the canal is down and it's about 3 ft of water in it the poop is 2 ft above that on the edges and there's bugs and stuff they usually die and the water will wash away whatever is left I'm just going to rain and get rid of it all and the bottom of my Mark is 3 ft deep yeah at the bottom of it used to be like 8 ft okay well it's still 5 ft and that's dangerous and usually they do dredge and who the hell knows where did 5 ft of buck come from it can't be that deep just not enough muck around I came from all these neighborhoods and fill it up from all the side over the past 4 or 5 years 10 years and that's what happened is slowly went in there that's terrible so it's very very awful and right now it's going to washed out it'll be fine but this whole place is very stinky it'll be gone in an hour also those circles are going to be sizzling and we have a forecast

Thor Freya

Olympus

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 29- Luca

***

"Sirin," he gasped.

He lunged for her as she crumpled, shouldering aside Isabella to catch Sirin in his chained arms. She slumped against him as he lowered her to the ground, holding her in the crook of his elbow. Her head lolled back, lips parted and blood-flecked, eyes white slits behind her lids.

"Sirin," Luca said again, stroking her wet curls. Her skin was as cold as the rain. "Sirin. Triune, stay with me. Listen to me, and hold on."

He looked up at Isabella. She stood rigid in the driving rain.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"I...I didn't-"

A bellow filled the air, the shrieking roar of the monster. If it hadn't known Sirin was here before, it did now. Did it remember the taste of her power?

"Is that the best she can do?" Isabella said.

"Damn you, Bell, we have to wake her up."

Her face hardened. She turned to the Falcii. "I want every bolt cannon we have to fire on that monster. Ring the signal on my command-"

"Bell, wait-"

"Now!" Isabella cried.

A bellow drowned her command: not the roar of the Leviathan, but the roar of water. The swell it had gathered, the twisting column of seawater, broke: a coursing, lashing tidal wave of spume and stolen ocean, veined with white and lit from within like phosphorescent glass, thundering toward the harbor.

Luca scrambled to his feet, to Isabella. "Open the floodgates. There's no time-"

"There's time to fire. There's time, Luca-"

"No." His heart hammered. He heard again the screams of the crowd in An Gholam, the roar of spellfire, the wall of water coming closer, closer. The buildings down there were whitebrick and towering, three stories packed into space for one. There was no room to flee, nowhere for the people of Valeris to go.

They would drown in the streets, trapped like rats in the bilge-pipes of a sinking ship.

His eyes burned with salt and tears. "Open the gates, Bell! Give the order! Give the bloody order!"

Isabella stared at him. Her lashes trembled, caught with blue light. The look on her face was ferocious, her teeth bared, her wet hair lashing round her head in the storm wind. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight, then whirled toward her captain.

"Open the floodgates," she said. "Ring the signal. Now."

"Ring the signal!" roared the captain to the bell-ringers. The rhythm of the bells shifted, becoming a three-count. It thrummed through Luca's hands as he gathered Sirin to him again.

"Sirin," he whispered.

He couldn't hear himself over the roar of the waves. He stroked her face, as if he could will her to wake up.

"We need you," he said. "I need you."

Her lashes fluttered against his hands. Her lips moved, tracing his name. Sirin's eyes opened. their irises so dark he could not make out her pupils, so dark he might fall into them. Shadows curled around his fingers, twining under his skin.

Luca lifted his face to the rain as the swell hit the harbor limits, as the entire stolen ocean broke, and shattered, and fell into luminescent spume. It flooded the empty harbor, ships caught and crushed under by the glowing tide.

Luca's breath hissed between his teeth. "Come on," he murmured, fervent as a prayer. "Come on. This once. Let this be right."

The wave thundered for the harbor walls- and broke. Channels of water dropped, suddenly, twisting away through the open floodgates, surging at their banks, rising, swamping the canal streets, but they were redirected, harnessed, contained.

Nearly. One gate shattered under the water pressure, a cracking-grinding explosion of wood and ancient rivets, and at once the water leaped to claim the city.

Luca heard Isabella's strangled gasp, her hands clutching the parapet, her face blanched and haggard. Tears streaked her face as the waves arched, descending across the buildings, grinding them into stones and mortar, washing them in blue radiance, in godsblood and starlight.

Valeris shook, the aftershock of the waves rumbling through its foundations, shivering the statues at the parapet. Lightning crackled from tower finials, conducted in great blue-white arcs across the stormy sky. From the high point of the dome, fire spat as the Lapidaean flag charred in an instant, consumed by the devouring heat of the lightning.

The monster bellowed again, rising in its stormhead, its onslaught momentarily thwarted. The sound was world-breaking, consuming, a bass blast deep as the beat of a witch's wing. The feel of it shook to the heart of him as if it might never leave.

This isn't over, Luca realized. The monster wouldn't stop. He didn't think it was capable of stopping. It would keep coming, and coming, so long as Puppy was in Valeris.

He wouldn't leave Puppy. Not now. Not ever.

I made you a promise, he thought- to Puppy, to the monster, to the Great Leviathan, to himself. I'll see it through.

I'll see it made right.

He climbed to his feet, facing Isabella. Her Falcii stood at their posts down the battlements, orders flying thick through the fishfall. No one was looking at him. The roar of the rain drowned out the rattle of his fetters, the ragged hiss of his breathing.

"Bell," he called.

She rounded on him. "What?"

He punched her, hard, fist to the jaw. Isabella crumpled against the parapet, blood streaming from a split lip. She went for her sword, but Luca was quicker. His hands closed around its hilt, and in a hish of steel, he had it, his grip awkward thanks to his chains.

Isabella made a wild grab for it; Luca ducked back, out of her reach.

"Let us go, Bell," he said. "Neither of us wants me to use this."

"Blade!" Isabella commanded.

One of her Falcii obeyed. A sword spun through the rain. Lightning cracked as Isabella caught it, flaring the blade to a flash of silver. She was already moving. Luca stumbled aside; he swiped out, and blades clashed, pealing through the howl of the storm and the clamor of alarm bells.

"So you've finally improved," Isabella called.

"Desperate times, Bell," Luca said. He paced back, closer to Sirin. He glanced at her. She shuddered on her hands and knees, her shoulderblades sharp through her sodden shirt. "You pick up a few tricks when you're on the verge of-"

The air parted. Steel hissed past his face as her sword pealed off his hilt and went wide. His throat tightened as Isabella advanced. Her shoulders were set, her face a mask. Blood streamed from her lip and mingled with the rainwater, dripping down her chin in rivers. Her eyes caught the next burst of lightning and flared silver.

"Majesty?" one of her Falcii called.

"Stay back, all of you," Isabella snarled.

"Isabella," Luca said, his voice hoarse. "This won't end here."

"I know how this will end. Let me by, Luca. Let me at the creature."

"I can't let you kill Puppy."

"Stand aside."

Luca let out his breath. His sword point dipped, and he stood, facing his sister through the storm.

"Going to kill me, Bell?" he rasped.

Her eyes flickered toward Valeris. The sight of it hit Luca again, a drenching rush of horror. The city was a flood plain, a churning nothingness eating away at one of its docks quarters. Rubble was consumed and shattered by the power of the oncoming sea, spume and mist and glowing tide. The beast had retreated out past the bay mouth, cloaking itself in its storms.

Not for long.

Isabella didn't move; she didn't strike. "Stand aside," she said again, but Luca thought he heard an unsteady note there, the edge of a sob.

"I'm so sorry," Luca said.

Her jaw clenched. "You will be."

She rounded on him, lunging, blade raised. Luca dropped his sword and met her, manacle chains to blade. Steel screeched against chain; Luca wrenched his hands to the side, tearing the sword from her fencer's grip and flinging it over the parapet.

She only had time to gasp the beginnings of a word before Luca had her cheek in his palm, his other hand wound into the front of her waistcoat. He slammed her skull against the wall, and she crumpled, clutching her head.

Luca ducked down and heaved Sirin into his arms.

"Just hold onto me," he whispered.

Her black eyes locked on his, sharp as the edge of a blade. I can do more than that, they seemed to say.

Shouts split the roar of the pelting rain. Falcii. Sirin's hand splayed against Luca's neck. Cold speared him. His vision trembled, the world wavering like a candle flame.

He looked down at Sirin in his arms. Her eyes were wide, white-ringed and lightless.

"Do it," Luca managed. Whatever it was, whatever she needed from him, he'd give it if it saw her safe out of here.

A smile twitched her lips.

Luca had only an instant to grit his teeth and brace before shadow boiled underfoot, billowing upward to engulf them both. He gasped as darkness slammed over his vision, as he was torn, flung from his bones- he felt Sirin, felt her like he'd slipped inside her skin, felt the hiss of her breathing, the empty scrape and scream of power through her body, the violent tremble of her limbs as she did all she could to hold herself up.

The pressure of the wind, the boom of the storm above, the cascade of seawater through Valeris, coursing down its streets and canals like blood through a body-

The flicker and dance of lightning, bright as spirit-flames, from finial to spire-

The rage of the Leviathan, unending, born from itself even as it tore itself apart, as it roiled against itself, more, and more, and more-

Captain Irene at the wheel of the Fishcutter, leading a flotilla of ships to a sheltered harbor. Azare, on his knees in the sand, Lieutenant Lapin at his side, the two of them together but not touching, watching the city consumed before them. Plumes of spellfire, a line of burning Lapidaean warships, the vast hammer-headed dreadnought cleaving through walls of storm waves amongst them. Helmed by ghosts, all bound by glimmering chains to Enzo Acier, his eyes wide as he stared down the Leviathan, as he clung to the dead, trying, failing, to make sense of the unknowable.

Cold flashed through him, and power- heat but not heat, a splinter of light, prismatic as whaleglass. His eyes sprang wide, seeing not beyond but the now, the here. His body, his breathing, his blood, his heartbeat; it sloshed in his head, but it wasn't his, not entirely. It was Sirin's too, just as he knew she heard his, felt his, the two of them in time, the cycle of her power in him as she took from him, on and on, unending.

The world through Sirin's veil of shadows was reduced to colorless smears, the length of the parapet engulfed in shadow. Palace guard and Falcii surrounded them, rushing past with rifles ready as if they weren't there at all.

"Where are they?"

"They were right bloody here-"

"Split and find them."

"You! Attend the queen!"

Sirin's eyes rolled back again, but her hand stayed clamped on Luca's neck. Icy power pulsed through him. Blood burst behind his teeth, but he made himself move on, shrouded in shadows, the light bent and warped around them.

"What in all Hells is this, Sirin?" he managed, between steps.

There was no answer.

Luca remembered the first time she'd done a thing like this, racing down the Vie in their rusty skiff, shadow split and spun, buying them precious time. It was the first time he'd felt wonder at the sight of her power, the first time he'd truly seen her magic. She'd spoken to Alois like this, too. She'd defied balance on the temple rooftop of An Gholam, defied it in the rain of spellfire embers, a blade of shadows curving from her hands.

A chill ran through him deeper than the storm rain.

The great windows of the office had shattered. A slew of glass and crystal-plagued fish glinted in deep pools of rainwater, antique carpets turned sodden and black. Curtains billowed, ragged, the animal heads mounted on the office walls torn aside and twisting from their fastenings as wind blasted through the broken windows.

"Puppy," Luca gasped.

The little creature's cage had been thrown off the desk, and lay half-sunk in a pool of rainwater. Puppy itself shivered as it curled in a corner, eyes wide, pupils shrunk to pinpricks with fear. Luca lay Sirin carefully on a chair and hurried to the cage. He pulled at the latch; it was stuck fast. He searched the room, then snatched up one of Isabella's gilt-chased letter openers and jabbed it town into the cage hinges, not caring when the letter opener jagged askew, gashing into his hand.

The latch twanged free, and Puppy scrambled out, yelping, clawing, pushing its head under Luca's jaw, its entire body shivering. Anxious crackles of iridescence coursed through its fur, sparking against Luca's hands. He gathered the creature to him, stroking it, murmuring to it, pressing his cheek to the top of its head.

Warmth suffused his bloody hands as it licked at his wound, raw edges shimmering as they sealed together.

"That's it," Luca murmured, pulling the little creature closer. Salt burned his eyes. "I know. We're getting out of here."

"Luca!"

He twisted round as the door slammed open. Cereza and Alois stood in the doorway, Niive at their backs, struggling with the muzzle still chained round her face. Luca glimpsed a guard slumped, unconscious, in the dark corridor behind them.

"Triune," Cereza cried, and ran to him. She grabbed his arm, dragging him to his feet. "I thought you were dead."

"Where's Isabella?" Alois asked.

"She'll be fine. We need to go."

"I know," Cereza said. "If we get out fast, we can draw that thing-" Her eyes flicked to the monster, then back to Luca. "-away from Valeris."

"That's the idea. You take Puppy." He eased the creature into her arms, then went for Sirin.  Alois followed, helping him lift her again. "Niive, can you fly us out of here?"

She wrenched the muzzle off her face with the crack of breaking metal, then flung it against the wall hard enough to leave a dent in the whitebrick.

"No," she snarled. "The abomination's winds are too strong for me."

"The tunnels," Alois murmured.

"What?" Luca said.

"The tunnels," Alois repeated, louder. He snatched the bloody letter opener from the floor and strode to the wall. It was paneled in cedar, the glossy red wood streaked with rain and blue guts, the floor beneath crusted in the remains of dead fish. Alois didn't hesitate: he stabbed the letter opener into the seam between two panels and sliced down.

Luca blinked as the panel shuddered and swung wide on concealed hinges, revealing a rectangle of darkness. Lightning flashed, illuminating the passageway within.

Alois turned back, his face set, his eyes blanched silver as lightning struck again. "I've used this tunnel to get out of Valeris Palace before," he said. "It'll take us to the base of the ridge. We can flee the city from there."

Luca let out an unsteady breath. "Then let's not waste time. The monster won't."

Alois nodded, then ducked into the passageway. Cereza followed, and Niive. Luca looked back at the broken windows, the looming stormhead, Valeris swamped below. Whitewater and rubble, a churning, tidal rush of destruction, consuming, devouring.

The Leviathan loomed beyond, wreathed in its storm. It bellowed, the echo coiling to Luca's heart. Puppy keened in Cereza's arms, as if in answer, as if in longing.

"I'll come back for you," Luca whispered. "I'll make you whole again. I promised, didn't I?"

Holding Puppy tight, he turned from Valeris and the monster, ducking into the passageway after the others, leaving the flooded city behind.

[razieltwelve]

Experimentation (Final Rose)

Daemon blinked. “Could you repeat that?”

Vanille nodded. “Sure. Can I borrow your dragon?”

“...” Daemon put his wine aside. “And what would you need my dragon for?”

“Are you familiar with the dragon roads of Valyria?” Vanille asked.

“Of course.”

“I think I might be able to make more of them... but I’m going to need a dragon.”

That got Daemon’s attention, and he leaned forward. “Explain.”

X     X     X

In retrospect, Daemon thought, Vanille’s approach was surprisingly simple. She had already developed liquid stone - she preferred the term concrete - and the dragon roads must have been made of something similar, given their length and general appearance.

Since liquid stone was made up of certain ingredients, then it stood to reason that those same ingredients might also be involved in creating dragon roads. Perhaps the ratios might be different, and perhaps some extra ingredients were also needed, but those could be discovered through a process Vanille called trial and error.

What was truly missing was the ‘secret ingredient’, and that was obvious when he stopped to think about it.

Dragon fire.

For what did the Valyrians have that no one else did?

Dragons.

And Vanille, like Daemon, had noted that the fire of older dragons could melt stone, even burst it apart as though it were hit by a huge hammer. What would happen, then, if liquid stone were melted by dragon fire?

The answer, at least for the first few months, was that nothing good happened.

There were explosion, the creation of many brittle and useless stretches of concrete, and more than one incident that involved all of them - Caraxes included - fleeing for their lives.

Yet in the end, Vanille had succeeded. It had taken the adjustment of certain ratios and the careful control of Caraxes’s fire to a certain heat, but they had succeeded in creating a stretch of liquid stone that look for all the world like the dragon roads of Valyria.

Attempts to break the road with all manner of tools had done nothing. A two-week-long downpour of rain that had near flooded the city had done nothing. The heatwave that had followed had no effect whatsoever. Daemon himself had even gone out there with a great hammer of metal and done his best to break the damn thing, and all he’d done was give himself a sore back.

They had done it.

And then Vanille had pointed out the obvious.

The liquid stone they used could be poured into moulds. Regular concrete would serve well enough for the many public works that Viserys had planned, such as a proper sewer system for King’s Landing, but the material they had just devised would be ideal not only for roads... but for fortresses.

After all, were not the black walls of Volantis famous? This... dragon stone would allow them to build new fortresses that could stand against any infantry assault. Why, they could even build bridges of the stuff too, ones that would not be washed away or broken in storms. The possibilities were endless.

And they had also learned the extent to which the fire of an older dragon could be used to destroy earth and rock. Vanille had smiled craftily as she explained the possibilities.

Why not crack mountains to get at the riches held within? Why not use dragons to help dig canals to link bodies of water to one another?

Needless to say, Viserys had been overjoyed with their discoveries, already seeing the prosperity and prestige such things could bring to the Seven Kingdoms. This also gave them something to do with their dragons when they were not at war, and Daemon could see the value in that.

Dragon riders trained hard to bond with their mounts, but there was little for them to do during peace. Working on such projects would allow them to hone their control while showing the people that dragons were to be feared for their power... and loved for the gifts they could bring.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Strangely enough, Daemon would probably enjoy participating in Vanille’s crazier experiments, especially if they involved dragons. But, yeah, Vanille looks at dragons, sees all the cool stuff they can do, and then wonders why they just sit around all day.

I also really need to bring the kids into this. Vanille as a crazy teacher has a lot of potential.

Incidentally, Visery’s own nature makes him quite supportive of these projects. They bring in plenty of coin and allow him to project majesty and generosity to the rest of the realms.

[hotpinkrathian]

Lin Goes To The Dentist

(Kyalin)

"I'm sorry Miss Beifong, we can't go through with the procedure until you have confirmed with us you have a ride home." Lin sighed, tapping her foot in the floor.

"If I get one can I do it today?"

"We can have you in in five minutes." Lin snorted, making her way to the pay phone and waiting for the ring.

"Hello, Republic City Hospital what can I do for you?"

"Is Kya there?"

"I'm sorry who is-"

"Is Kya there?"

"Shes on break."

"Good, get her for me." There was some bustling and Lin smiled at the receptionist, holding up a finger to let her know it wouldn't be too much longer.

"Hello?"

"Kya?"

"Who is this?"

"Its Lin."

"Oh, Lin why didn't you say so. You know I would've answered much faster if I had known."

"Yeah well, short on time. I need your help."

"Anything."

"I need you to," she paused, "I need someone to pick me up from the Dentist, I'm having a root canal taken out and-"

"They have to put you under. I'll be there in 10."

"Thanks, Kya."

"See you soon." Lin hung up the phone and the receptionist tilted her glasses at her.

"Kya, water tribe woman, long white hair will be here."

"Works for me, you can go in now."

"Shes right in here, miss." The Dentist said, guiding Kya to a separate room.

"Shes good to go?"

"Give her a few minutes to wake up, she was under longer than usual."

"Yeah her tolerance isn't very high, thank you." The dentist smiled as Kya entered the room, cautiously making her way to the chair where Lin appeared to be asleep. She sat on the foot of the chair, pushing equipment out of the way.

"Lin." She said softly. "You can go home now." She prodded the younger woman, frowning.

"Lin." She said just a bit louder.

"Boo!"

"Ah!" Kya recoiled as Lin sat up, laughing.

"Got you!" Lin laughed. Her words were jumbled by the gauze and numbing in her mouth.

"Very funny. Let's get you home. " she stood up, offering the metalbender her hand. Lin took it, toppling them both onto the floor.

"Okay, Lin, you need to get off me." Lin mumbled something, rolling off Kya onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

"Its so sunny today."

"Thats a roof."

"A sunny roof." Kya pushed down a laugh, pushing herself back onto her feet.

"Come on," she grunted as she pulled Lin off her feet. They managed to make their way to the satomobile where Lin insisted on driving, to which Kya pushed her into the back seat, using two of the buckles to restrain her.

"You're pretty heavy," she panted once they were on the road, "did you have to wear armor to the dentist?"

"So many knives, they could stab me at any moment." Lin replied groggily.

"Right." Kya spent the rest of the ride trying get Lin to be quiet, she wasn't supposed to talk this much after a procedure like this.

"So anyway I told him that if he-" Lin stopped. "Is this my house?"

"Yup. Time to get you to bed."

"Whoa Kya, its only the first date." Kya looked at her, blushing. She knew Lin was out of it, but still, this had to mean that a part of Lin had contemplated flirting back. At least once.

"Haha. Come on let's get this off you." She guided her to the bedroom and manages to pry off the armor using the secret latch at the back.

"Comfy." Lin said as she relaxed into the pillows, Kya pulling the covers over her.

"You good?" Kya asked, smiling at her handiwork.

"Water."

"Sure." She bent some water into a glass and handed it to Lin.

"You're a waterbender?" Lin marveled and Kya chuckled.

"Yeah, have been my whole life."

"Wow. You know who else is a waterbender?"

"Who?"

"My friend Kya." Kya raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She's great. I'm mean to her sometimes, I think. I don't know what to say."

"Why?"

"Shes so pretty." Kya's other eyebrow joined its twin, both raised as Lin spilled. She knew she wasn't supposed to hear this, but still, it felt like an odd twist of fate.

"Tell me more." She inquired.

"She has hair. Lots of it."

"Mhmmm."

"I want to touch it, but I don't "

"You could."

"Shes a waterbender."

"You told me that."

"Shes such a good friend. She was there for me after my heart broke."

"Thats kind of her."

"Dont tell her this," Lin said seriously, Kya almost thought she'd snapped out of it.

"Okay."

"Come closer." Kya leaned in, Lin pressed a hand to her ear, cupping it as she whispered.

"I want to kiss her." Her blush deepened even more, and a smile crept across her face.

"You do?"

"Shhhhhhh. Don't tell Kya."

"I won't." She said, her heart racing in her chest. Lin's head fell against the pillow as she fell asleep. Kya stood up, her hands on her head as she paced the room.

"Oh my Ravaa." She whispered to herself.

"Lin Beifong has a crush on me."

Lin stumbled into the bathroom, managing to push through the pain long enough to relieve herself. She held onto the door frame, pushing herself out of her bedroom, making a beeline for the couch to lay back down.

"Good morning." She froze, turning her head to the sound of the voice.

"Kya?" She asked, her head still groggy. Kya sat next to her, two cups of tea in her hand.

"Yours isn't hot, they said nothing hot for a couple days at least, so I did my best." Lin took the cup, drinking from it, suprised to find it wasn't bad.

"How are you feeling?" The waterbender asked.

"Terrible."

"Sounds like the numbing is out."

"Dont remind me." Kya chuckled, holding a palm up to Lin's sorr cheek. Lin just watched as the waterbender admired her face. She wiped water over it and Lin sighed.

"It kept bleeding throughout the night, so your pillow case might need a wash."

"Did you stay overnight?" Lin asked, taking another drink.

"Of course. I didn't plan too, but you were... needy."

"Sorry."

"No, don't be. "

"I feel terrible. My jaw hasn't hurt like this since..."

"Since your scars?" Lin looked at her, Kya's warm blue eyes, a corner of a smile. Nothing malicious or threatening about her, so why was she so scared?

"Yeah."

"I can help, if you want. Use some waterbending."

"Dont you have work?"

"They can function one day without me." Lin scoffed.

"Wish I could say the same."

"Dont tell me you're going back to work anytime soon."

"Day after tomorrow."

"Lin..."

"I know I know. I get bored, hanging around here myself. The pain is bearable if it means I don't have to sit here by myself for a week." Kya went to the kitchen, getting a bowl of water and bending enough to cover Lin's jaw, the bending sending a sensation of relief almost immediately.

"Any better?"

"Much, don't stop."

"Okay." They sat in silence for a moment, and when Kya was done she dropped the water back into the bowl.

"Lin," the waterbender started, "why did you.. why did you ask me? To help you, I mean?" Lin shuffled, leaning back slightly.

"I dunno, I guess you were the first person to come to mind." Kya whispered something to herself, but Lin didn't catch it.

"So it, uh... it turns out you're pretty chatty under drugs." Lin paused. This was going somewhere. She said something, didn't she? She couldn't think of reply on time, so Kya kept talking.

"You were telling me about your friend. How nice she was. Her hair." Lin blushed, biting her bottom lip with nervousness. "How you... you wanted to kiss her."

"And?" Lin replied, not daring to make eye contact.

"I think she'd appreciate the truth, coming from the real you." Kya leaned in closer, her hand touching Lin on the thigh. Lin had thought of nearly a thousand ways this scenario had gone down, she would have loved to pick one of the ones that had the least amount of conversation as possible. But seeing as her mouth wasn't good for much more than talking right now, she was trapped.

"You can.. tell my 'friend' that I meant it." Kya's breath seemed to hitch in throat and Lin held her own as well.

"Well, um, your friend would like to kiss you, too." Kya said with a smile.

"We are talking about you, right?" Lin teased. Kya laughed, placing a hand on Lin's shoulder.

"Yes!"

"Alright, just making sure, its been a long day, I thought maybe my head was messing with me or something." They laughed and Kya raised her hand to Lin's cheek again. Lin closed her eyes at the touch as Kya's thumb brushed against her scars. The next thing she knew, Lin was being pulled into a kiss. Her mouth was till hurt, but damn did Kya make it feel better. It was gentle, Kya always knew just what she needed. When the waterbender pulled away, a giddy grin on her face, Lin cleared her throat.

"Thanks," she said passively.

"For kissing you?"

"Hmm? No, I mean, for taking care of me."

"Oh, yeah, anytime."

"And also the kiss." Kya kissed her again on her good cheek before getting up.

"Get some rest," the waterbender said, "I'll be here when you wake up." Lin bit back a grin as she sunk into the sofa, closing her eyes, dreaming of those lips the entire time.

[savagenutella46]

And Thus With A Kiss I Die

Jasonette 1/1 - A fic I wrote for @moonlitceleste because she’s amazing

All quotes/title in bold italics derived from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

"Banishèd' is banished from the world, and world's exile is death."

There's no finite end to where white and black meet. Everything is shades of grey; infinite on a foreboding scale of fate and destiny: entities that push you to make the choices you do.

It had ended with a flash of light—real or her imagination, she had witnessed it between her own eyes. The kind of flashing light that tells you, "you've died."

Ladybug could still hear the shrieks and screams of civilians echoing ringingly around her, confused, scared, as to why an akumatized villain was hurting them the way that it was; this wasn't how akumatizations usually went, maybe a few scratches, worn out knees, but never this.

(—And to think, it had started out as a normal day.

Marinette rose out of bed with the same grogginess lingering at the corner of her eyes, brushed her teeth, kissed her Maman on the cheek as she ran to school, late.

You'd never suspect you were going to die on a day so normal, so domestic.)

What had this person been through before submitting to Hawkmoth with such a vicinity? How had Hawkmoth prayed to a cacophony of emotions like this—to kill, order, destroy everything in its path? Marinette would never catch an inkling, dying and all that jazz.

It's easy to see the world through a rose-colored lens. To believe that people do the things they do because they're bad. (but no one ever talks about why they do the things they do because they're good.)

And Marinette, masked in all her red-and-black glory, had pushed a frozen-with-fear civilian out of harm's way, an absurd amount of unleashed dark magic from the akuma hurtling its way toward them, and she'd taken the hit. Rolled on the ground for yards from the sheer force that the akuma's magic had flew and stricken her and pierced the skin, blood splattering and trailing as she slapped and hit the street from every possible angle.

Ladybug can't move, can't call for help when she desperately needs to, because her partner is miles away trying to fight what has her plastered to the ground, laying limp underneath her dead weight, breathing muffled and heavy underneath her physical detriment.

Ladybug's eyes droop under the weight of exhaustion, barely running on fumes before she had run out in an attempt to defeat what was supposed to be an everyday activity.—Crazy, how something can seem so domestic until its so, so much more.—A hemothorax forming in her chest where Marinette had been hit, a very open thoracic cavity filling up with blood, and she's spluttering for breath, because her throat is closed up, filled with blood from where the akuma hit her to where it burned.

It burns real bad, almost like an explosion stemming from her chest to the nerve endings on her toes. Marinette feels like she's being tortured with every meek twitch of her wrist as she lays on the ground, unable to see over the car shouldering her path, the pain burning behind her eyes, the white-hot disappointment in her heart.

—And she knows it's time. Because this is the work of fate. Her life in its hands. It had seemed miles away from Marinette just this morning, and how she wished she could go back and cherish the moments since she'd arisen from unpremeditated slumber.

She cannot. This is her destiny, as it seems. No one can be saved if Ladybug cannot save herself, can't will herself to detransform and heal herself because she can't, and she feels a gripping amount of remorse before emotions hit her all around—she should've told Adrien something, she can't recall what it is—should've told her Maman she loved her before running out the door in such a rush—should've squealed about the hot superheroes in America with Alya one last time, before she feels nothing.

Nothing except for the white light. And then dark again. Absolutely nothing.

                                               _________________

It's dark when she opens her eyes, and she blinks to make sure her eyes are actually open, and sees a big, fat, load of nothing.

Marinette's—the ladybug suit had disappeared, her normal clothes taking its place—body feels light, floaty, and utterly weightless against the dark mass she's standing atop of. Her head feels eerily light, calm without the weight of the world on her shoulders, and a calm feeling washes over her.

Her voice echoes against endless sound barriers as she utters her first words since death.

"This is what death feels like, huh?" Utterly amazing. Marinette can't believe she didn't do this earlier.

—But, for a moment, she feels empathy. Empathy for the people stuck in Paris, wondering if this was the day they were going to die, the people all around the world living in fear of something so inevitable.

She closes her eyes for just a second, a moment of vengeful peace. Opens them again, and this time, she's somewhere different.

She's in a library. Unfamiliar, but welcoming all the same. The smell of crisp, unopened books float idly in her senses, a synthetic warm feeling creeping up behind her back. Distantly, she realizes that she recognizes the place, tables placed and shelves abundantly filled with books, ranging from science fiction to classic literature, and it feels exactly how it did all those years ago.

Years ago, when she'd first visited the United States of America, the first place her Maman and Papa took her was a public library in Gotham City, New Jersey. It had welcomed her so openly that she couldn't help but smile a little, slip under from her parent's grasp, and wander toward a vast section of William Shakespeare, someone she'd heard so much about in her eight—nine years, she couldn't help but be pulled toward the ordain shelf.

She'd even met someone, too. Her mother would forever deny—if Marinette had still been alive, but Marinette was convinced the little boy sitting against the mass of wooden shelves had been very, very real. Marinette had smiled at him, sat down next to him, even if he gave her a wary, and borderline aggressive look, she'd introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Marinette." She'd said with a horrible stutter and an almost unintelligible accent. The boy closed his book—a black and white cover with words she couldn't quite understand the meaning of as well as a simple name like Shakespeare's, and she smiled a little harder.

"Jason," He'd said in a heedful voice, staring at her curiously. "Whadda' you want?"

Marinette shrugged as best she could with weak shoulders, and turned her head from the person next to her to drink in every corner of the library that she could see without moving from her increasingly-uncomfortable crouch on the ground.

"Nothing. Just wanted to see what you're reading." She leaned over his shoulder, monosyllabic and complex English text alike filling her view, so many words that blurred together, and she felt a heat at the top of her head in frustration.

She couldn't read English.

The boy next to her—Jason, had seemed to recognize her distress and pull the book closer to him, floundering for a moment before he exhaled loudly, and started to read.

Words flowed out of the him, smooth and languid, and she found herself trapped in the moment, mesmerized by such an eloquent reading from a boy who looked just her age.

"What cursèd foot wanders this way tonight to cross my obsequies and true love's rite?" He reads off, breaking unevenly for gulps of air, and dove back right where he stopped without much distraction, and moments, minutes passed under his voice.

And the memory fell away from view. She opened eyes she didn't realize had closed when a voice seemed to float from the corner of her vision, a body stepping into view and a realized this wasn't imagination.

Another boy, dressed in tattered—but comfortable looking jeans finds his way over to her, a curious glint in his magnificent blue eye and a raised eyebrow, though he looks troubled, aged where he ought to look youthful.

"Who're you?" He mumbles, lips barely moving around syllables as he stares at Marinette, defensive, yet hopeful.

His voice. Despite the clearly street-wise accent, his voice is beautiful. A voice that could recite hundreds of words and never get old in the canals of her ears. Marinette found herself wanting to hear more.

"Marinette." She blinks, seems to realize the way he seems nervous, and, "You like jazz?" Blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, which, just so happens to be the only sentence capable of such utterance in damning—literally—times like this one.

Jason finally cracks a smile after a few more moments of cricket-inducing silence, and the newfound tension in her shoulders seems to melt away again, just as it did with her entrance to a magnificent limbo such as this. "Not in particular, but I do like to read." His smile is utterly contagious, and Marinette feels it spread its way along her own face, eyes crinkling under the weight of emotion.

They spend their days in an endless limbo like that, reading, laughing, sometimes in the comfortable chair in the library, and sometimes they're gazing upon clouds, feeling the prickly sensation of grass under their backs as they lie next to one another under a cool breeze and warm sun—which is the scene they're settling in, when Marinette turns her head toward the boy next to her.

"It's been," She pauses for a moment, adding up the days since they've both died—it had to be around the same time—and Jason turns his head toward her in a similar fashion, an eyebrow raised. "A few months? And..." She trails off, suddenly feeling less confident in a horrid question.

She knows the way she had died hadn't been peaceful, and if the boy she'd grown so close to in months of passing had died as painfully, he might doubt their budding friendship, as new as it is.

But then Jason reaches over and covers her hand with his, a blooming warmth enveloping her hand all the way to her heart, her vision snaps back to where it had wandered down to the rest of her body, reliving a turret of emotions. "Marinette," Jason stares at her in earnest, "You can ask."

Another thing she'd never understand was Jason's ability to read people so well. He'd always know her intentions, as bad or good as they may be, like something mundane, a book she'd eyed for a few minutes before he'd sighed heavily and got up to get it for her, or when Marinette wanted to be left alone. Just for a minute, to pull herself back together.

"How did you die?" She watches as Jason closes his eyes, curling in on himself despite the foretold question, and waits.

She's good at waiting. (A familiar feeling of heat creeping up to her cheeks, the same way it did with someone else, not so long ago, but in a different lifetime.)

"It started out when I tried to steal Batman's tires—" Marinette widens her eyes in surprise.

Oh, so they're going way back then, huh?

But by the time Jason finishes speaking, pats his sweaty hands down on the slacks he wore that day that came from God knows where, Marinette finds the humor and her mood had dimmed significantly.

And Jason, he looks terrible. Like it was the first time he'd said something about it since, well, death. Almost hyperventilating, Jason is breathing heavily, gripping onto his pants with malice and intent, almost as if stopping himself from something. He'd told his beginning to end with an increasingly shaky voice, cracking at the edges where he'd relived the fear and abandonment he felt when trapped in an unfamiliar country, in a dirty warehouse, trapped in his own feelings in a suit that he thought would always protect him.

Without a dad that he'd thought would always protect him.  

Marinette feels a little sick. The boy next to her had died so brutally, alone, scared and slowly.

"I don't regret it. Being Robin." He adds quietly after a moment of hesitation. It's small, but it's there and plain. He doesn't regret something that changed his life, but— "Just the death part."

He would want to change his death, and she couldn't agree more.

If only it meant they could've still met despite living, that is.

She doesn't say that. Instead, she laughs a little. "You and me both." Marinette reaches over to hold his hand once more, and pretends not to see the tears climbing out of his eyes.

"So early waking, what with loathsome smells, and shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, that living mortals, hearing them, run mad—?"

How it felt to tear his way out of the ground, shivering, shaking, flinching at the way his fingernails tore away with every claw and scratch at the unyielding wood before him. Jason was vaguely aware of a horrible groaning noise that might've been his own, but when his hand stuck through to crisp Gotham air, dirt flinging and spilling down on his face as he gasped and choked for breath, he could only think of a single quote from such a cliche play.

He thought of it while tearing out the bloody uvula of his victim, spurred on by the Pit and Talia's ruthless training, starving for the sound of screaming that rung in his ear, continued to clang loudly even in sleep, when it bestowed itself upon him.

Because he couldn't think about anything else. Wouldn't allow himself to, because then he would start thinking about her.

About how she left him.

Jason had turned to retrieve a book from their peaceful library limbo one day, muttering to himself about something so mundane that he didn't even remember, but he'd grabbed the book—a simple fiction, because they were both bored of astronomy—and turned around to silence, instead of the shiny mop of dark hair he was expecting.

"Marinette?" Jason calls, swiveling his head around when the chair previously occupied by her stood empty.

Jason waits.

He doesn't know how long he waits, searches, but she isn't there.

And the feeling of disappointment and fear runs up his spine again, before he knows it, he's kneeling on the ground, trying to catch his breath as tears run down because he's been abandoned again, and it's just as damning as the first time.

His father, his brother, his mother, his birth mother, and now his friend.

Jason breaks down again, gripping harshly onto his hair while he cries, where he'd usually hold onto Marinette's hand.

So he doesn't think of much at all, really. Not when he turns on murder mode, not when he forces himself to stare into the eyes of the person he's killing while they die, because he wants to remember how it felt. How it felt before he met another superhero torn away from her life almost as harshly as he was ripped away from his own.

He wants to go back. Before he flew to Ethiopia unsupervised and unprepared, before he took the Robin mantle, before he decided to make quick cash off of the Batmobile, before his mother died by her own hands, loosely holding a syringe and shaking, shuddering from her overdose.

Jason wants to go back to Before. He can't stand living in the After, where he makes the choices he does.

He’s supposed to be good.

permanent taglist: @nathleigh @stainedglassm @officiallydarkgeek @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @buterflies-and-ladybugs @maskedpainter

[linorangge]

Jaebeom as Your Boyfriend ! <3

(pls keep in mind this is a head canon !) requested by @cuzsadd :)

how you met:

- you worked at a cafe and he came by one day with jinyoung

- jinyoung noticed you glancing at jaebeom a lot and he told beom

- beom was like “,,,,,, ok ???”

- nd jinyoung was like “go talk to her”

- beom stared at you for a hot minute while u were making their drinks

- he thought u were cute

- when he went to get ur drinks you asked him where he got his ear piercings from

- he told u the place nd talked abt his ear piercing journey and stuff

- you thought he was so cool

- he smiled a lot during the convo

- you guys had a whole ass convo abt piercings 

- the convo was so long the ice in jinyoung’s coffee had melted nd when jaebeom finally gave it to him, jinyoung was pissed LMAO

- “I shouldn't have told u to talk to her”

- he was joking ofc

- “I got her number tho”

- “rlly?”

- “yea look”

- u guys texted every other day and eventually u guys were like “lol what if we ,,,,,,,, got piercings together ,,,,,, jk ,,,,,,, unless”

- spoiler alert

- you did get piercings together 

- u guys met up at the piercing shop

- you got an industrial ear piercing

- he got another cartilage piercing

- and then he was like “haha imagine if I got a nose piercing”

- nd u were like “do it”

- he was like “DEADASS”

- he impulsively got his nose pierced

- you held his hand for moral support

- he wasn’t afraid of the nose piercing, he just wanted an excuse to hold ur hand

- and he told u this after u guys paid nd left

- “I wasn't scared I just wanted to hold ur hand”

- u thought he was joking 

- “oh ur serious”

- “yes dude, you’re seriously the prettiest girl I've ever met”

- u were screaming internally

- “ask me out then”

- “ok”

- “oK???”

- “how does Saturday sound?”

- “sounds great”

- skip to Saturday 

- he took u to this lil canal nd u guys watched the stars while u floated in a lil boat

- u guys just talked

- u talked about everything and anything u could

- u learned more abt each other and the other’s personalities

- u realized he was actually a pretty introverted and serious guy

- at least for now

- afterwards u guys got dinner 

- he drove u home nd showed u some material he’d been working on

- u genuinely rlly liked it nd it only made him so much cooler to u

- u guys went on a few more dates

- one day u hung out together at the mall

- he just kissed you out of nowhere and started holding ur hand

- and then he called u babe nd u were like

- “wait a damn min”

- “uhhh why the sudden pet name”

- “ur my gf”

- “u never asked me out”

- “I didn't???”

- this then prompted him to formally ask u to be his girlfriend

- u were in the middle of the food court and u were like🧍‍♀️

- u said yes ofc

- and then u continued with ur day

jaebeom as your boyfriend:

- where do I start

- he was serious at the beginning

- and the more u guys hung out together and the more he went over to ur house the more u realized how weird and random he was LMAO

- he randomly just asks u weird questions

- like actual shower thoughts come at of his mouth when ur alone with him

- “what does the inside of a colon look like?”

- “,,,,, jaebeom its literally 3am pls”

- “hold on I'm gonna google it”

- also texts u shower thoughts

- and u entertain it bc thats ur boyfriend, nd he makes u THINK

- he also just randomly texts u shit like 

- “just walked past this old man wearing boxers in public, with literally no pants”

- “wtf”

- “ikr”

- ANYWAYS

- not a lot of pet names

- mostly calls u by ur name 

- when he does he’ll call u babe or beautiful

- not very into pda

- he’ll hold ur hand nd give u cheek kisses and thats it basically

- he’s pretty private abt his love life, especially with u

- he’ll occasionally post u on social media with simple captions

- u don't hang with the sevens a lot but when u do, jinyoung ALWAYS makes sure he says something along the lines of “I DID THAT” “I MADE YALL DATE”

- jinyoung is pretty proud of himself 

- when ur alone he loves to cuddle 

- loves to kiss u

- lots of mouth kisses??

- he gives u so many forehead kisses

- he LOVESSSS when u play with his hair

- sometimes you’ll be like working on business emails or sum shit and he just lays next to you nd he's like

- “give me braids”

- nd ur like “okay ig”

- u actually ended up teaching him how to do braids nd French braids

- sometimes he spends too much time at the studio nd he doesn't have time to hang with u

- he takes u to the studio with him when this happens nd u sit there and work on ur own stuff

- u bring him food and drinks when he needs it

- sometimes u have to be like “ok bruh u have to go outside or something”

- nd u guys walk around or go to the park

- nd then u let him go back to the studio and wish him the best

- you've gotten into the habit of taking care of him bc sometimes he’s just BAD at it when he gets too deep in his work

the first time I love you was said:

- he said it first

- he was sick as FUCK

- I mean like sick sick

- mans was throwing up, diarrhea, cough, fever

- he was on the brink

- nd ofc u being the caring girlfriend u are

- u took care of him 

- u were making him chicken soup

- he was in bed, full fever, face up with a rag on his head

- u brought him the soup and set it on the bedside table

- “I want to shower”

- u were VERY stuck

- “ok then”

- and u helped him undress himself and helped him shower

- u were cautious and u washed his hair for him and he washed his body

- u helped him out of the shower and u helped put new clothes on him

- and u helped him back into bed nd fed him the soup

- nd halfway through he just stared at u 

- “what?”

- “I love you”

- u were stuck AS HELL

- but he was groggy and he had the softest smile on his face

- nd u could tell that even tho he was literally decaying

- he meant it 

- although he was sick u still took care of him and helped him with everything

- “I love you too”

- beom was sick as hell but god he never felt happier

- nd then he threw up ur soup as u held his hair back

- but he was forever grateful

- he knew that he never wanted to leave ur side

- u were the best thing that had ever happened to him

- in conclusion

- jaebeom SOFTEST BF EVER

- lmk if yall want one of these for another member or for skz

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 12 (Bucky Barnes au)

“Send your dreams where nobody hides

Give your tears to the tide”

Rushing to the compound felt surreal. Sam was driving as fast as he could as you were already thinking of the most efficient way to deal  with the situation. You were a doctor in biology and chemistry. Healing was a piece of cake for you. This shouldn't be any different.

"What injury did he suffer?" you asked, hiding the panic in your voice and leaving a crack in the car window to get some fresh air.

"Stab wound. It's pretty bad."

You scratched your forehead, doing your best not to give any thought to the pain Bucky was most likely going through.

"He was injected with the same serum as Steve, meaning he has the same healing process as him. One simple stab wound shouldn't be 'bad', so it has to be more than that."

Sam's grip on the stirring wheel tightened. He kept looking straight away, but he squeezed your hand once.

"Steve was freaked out. He might've overestimated the damage."

"Or underestimated. They might be super soldiers, Sam, but that doesn't make them invincible."

"I know."

"Sorry. I shouldn't be so dry. I'm just thinking. If..."

"We're almost there," he said, cutting you off. "I know the way you work, and I'm convinced you'll know what to do as soon as you see him."

The wind in your hair wasn't enough to calm you down and Sam had barely stopped the car when  you opened the door and ran to the compound. You were moving so fast your throat and lungs were burning, as you were not used to such physical exercises. You'd never been shaped for the field, nor had you ever wanted to be. You barged in the lab and put your hair up in a ponytail to keep it away from your face. Bucky was lying on a metal table :  you noticed he was pressing the side of his abdomen. Blood had stained his tight grey shirt. The blood on his face and shoulders, however, you concluded came from Steve carrying him. His eyes were open : good. After putting on sterilised gloves, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through his shirt. You hadn't even noticed Steve and Bruce's presence.

"Go, both of you," you told them as you assessed the wound, ignoring how Bucky's mouth was twisted with pain. "I've got this."

Bruce didn't need to be told twice : he trusted your skills with his life. It might have been Steve's case as well, but leaving his friend's side seemed harder for him to do.

"Steve, go. I won't be able to focus."

Your stern voice was what finally made him leave the room, closing the doors behind him. Bucky, still lying down, grabbed your wrist, staining the white gloves with red.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't fix," you assured him. You'd switched to working mode as soon as you'd seen him, but totally getting rid of your emotions wasn't the easiest thing to do.

"Your voice is shaking," he noted. "I.." – He let out a small grunt. – "Are you sure you're okay?"

You let out a sarcastic and nervous scoff. "Yeah, my voice is shaky but my hands are not. I'm the one who should ask if you're okay. Now shut up, unless I ask you something."

You didn't pay attention to his furrowed brows or confused look. The only thing you were looking for, while applying pressure to his wounds, was any particular sign of pain. He wasn't hiding it, unlike some of your teammates (Natasha came to your mind).

"It's deep," you explained. "Can you press this cloth for a second?"

He nodded and immediately got to it, allowing you to grab a scanner to see if any vital organs or blood canals had been severed. Locating the most damaged canal took you two seconds. You had no time for an anaesthesia ; you didn't have much doubt about Bucky's ability to bear pain. You used clamps to keep the wound open.

"This might itch," you said as you grabbed the electrocautery and applied it to the bleeding canal. You knew his face was contorted with pain, but you couldn't let your soft side win in those situations. Seeing people in pain was the hardest part of your job.

The rest of the surgery went on in silence, aside from Bucky's occasional grunt or sigh. Once you were done stitching the wound, you helped him sit up and bandaged the area. You wiped the sweat on your forehead with a towel, moving wet streaks of hair out of the way. Caring for this spectacular stab wound had taken around two hours, so you allowed yourself to drink some water before handing Bucky the bottle and tending to his other scratches. He probably didn't need this kind of medical assistance, but leaving him scathed was out of the picture.

"You need to hydrate yourself."

He took a long sip as you cleaned the multiple scratches he had on his right harm. His shoulder had taken the most of it, leading you to think he'd fallen from a higher place.

"What happened?" you finally asked. "I thought this was supposed to be an easy mission."

Now that you didn't need to focus as much and that the overall fear for Bucky's safety had passed, tears were threatening to come to your eyes.

"It was. Doesn't mean those guys weren't jerks."

"Bucky," – you carefully captured his chin between your fingers to make him look at you – "what happened?"

"Natasha got in harm's way. I knew she couldn't take it as good as me. It was the smart play."

"No, it was the bold, reckless way," you retorted. "You have no idea what Steve's call put me through. I thought..."

"Hey, I'm okay. Thanks to you," he whispered as he stroked your cheek. "I couldn't let them hurt someone who might've died. I knew I'd come out of this, that's why I did it."

You lowered your gaze and your eyes lingered on the numerous scars his naked torso displayed. You traced some of them with your fingers : on his collarbone, on his abdominal muscles, on his shoulders, and so on. You could tell there was a story behind each of these, and you assumed they were stories he would rather not talk about.

"I'm sorry you had to see those," he said. It was barely a whisper, so low you weren't sure you'd heard it right. "They're from my time with H.Y.D.R.A."

"Don't be sorry. Remember what you asked me about your arm?" – He nodded. – "This is no different. It's you, and that's all I care about."

You ran a hand through his hair : it'd been hardened by dried blood in some places. You closed your eyes and laid a kiss on his forehead before going to one of the cupboards to get him a lab coat. A warm sensation made its way to your stomach as you realised how easy it was being with him, how natural it seemed, how meant-to-be it felt, how...

"Wear this," you told him. "We need to do something about all this blood."

As if they'd been expecting you to come out, Steve, Nat and Sam jumped to their feet when you  opened the door. Bucky tried getting up on his own as well, but you grabbed his arm just as fast.

"You might be healing fast, Sergeant Barnes, but I'm not keeping you out of my sight just yet," you joked lightly.

Bucky was holding the coat closed over his chest, his other hand squeezing your back in gratitude.

"How are you, Buck?" Steve asked.

"Good, don't worry. 'T was just a scratch."

You gave him a grave look. "It was not a simple scratch," you corrected, "but he's fine. All I ask is that you rest for today. That should be enough, with your metabolism."

"Go rest, now, or you won't hear the end of it with this one," Sam said, gesturing in your direction.

"He's right," Natasha joined in. "She's secretly quite bossy."

You smiled to her. "I have to be! None of you listen to medical advice, so I have to be assertive. It's for your own good."

"And we love you for it," Steve added with a grin. "Now go put this guy to bed."

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle lightly, making him reach for his healing wound. It was obviously still hurting a little. You finally left the others and took him to your bathroom. Your bathtub was lower than the floor, which allowed you to sit on the edge as Bucky got in, after taking off his clothes, staying in his underwear. None of you spoke a word as you washed his hair and rubbed the remaining blood off of his skin. You ended up plunging your legs in the tub and let Bucky rest his head on your knees as you ran your fingers through his hair, silence embracing you both.

"Are you still hurting?" you asked.

"Only a little." He seized one of your hands and kissed your fingers. "Thank you," he added.

"Don't thank me, I'm doing what I vowed to do."

A smile made its way to Bucky's face as he sat up and turned around. "Do you wash every single of your patients' hair?"

You shook your head. "No. That's the unexpected, coffee-spilling, caring soulmate package."

He looked hesitant for the smallest second before extending his arms, waiting for a hug.

"You're soaked," were the only  words to come out of your mouth.

"Do you care? Your pants are already in the water, so..."

"Might as well," you said, finishing his sentence. You leaned on the bathtub's edge as your knees hit the bottom. Resting on your arms, you were only a few inches away from Bucky's face. You pressed your lips against his and closed your eyes, wondering what allowed it to feel so good. You didn't give a damn about your clothes anymore and they were bloody anyway, so you broke the kiss and laid in Bucky's arms, resting your head on his chest and your legs entangling. You'd made sure the water was warm enough and it still hadn't cooled off, thankfully.

"We probably shouldn't stay in here," you admitted. "We might just fall asleep and drown."

"Now that would be a shame," he agreed. "Just a few more minutes then. Please?"

You tilted your head up to look him in the eyes and smirked.

"I'll give you all the minutes you want, Buck."

--- Damn, I sure loved writing this part. I hope you liked it too! Part 13 will be the last one. :)

Tag list : @ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @bluemoon-icecream @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell @lizajane3 @livingonkpop @kaitieskidmore1

[furblrwurblr]

Patience, love!

Hey hey hey! Guess who made another Douxie x reader soulmate fic? m e

Douxie x Reader Soulmate AU, fluff, angst. crack if you squint.

Warnings: Swearing, I was far more casual this time, more misunderstandings aha, angst if you squint but it's not that hidden

The song in question: here, viewer discretion advised. It's emo boy by Ayesha Erotica, and this fic doesn't make a whole lot of sense without it? It can but you'll have to wait for a vague clarification.

Please enjoy our boy feat. Zoe!

Part 2

For as long as you’ve lived, your soulmate’s thoughts about you wrote themselves on your body, just as they had for nearly a millennium. You could tell you’d missed yours a few times. Back in Italy, you’d often stumble out of an alley after a riveting fight with a litter of canal criblets and their mother (why did the only aggressive species of hippocampi have their kids in the canals?) with quiet compliments and passing thoughts along your limbs.

“Another wizard? I wonder where they studied,” or “That was quite a spell, great technique! Wait! Watch out for the-” (that time you’d been a teeny bit distracted by the compliment and whirled around just in time to meet a screaming criblet doing its damndest to bite your face off with its nasty little teeth and bruise you with its impish little hooves. The fuckers were sharp.) The critter left you in a blinding blast of blue. Someone dressed in near all-black ran past you, but by the time your eyes cleared, the blue light was blasting away across the canal and a couple of violent hippocampi babies prevented you from following. Since, you always kept an eye out for that telltale blue light.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Over time, soulmate laws abated, seen as inhumane towards those unfortunate enough to not have one and those who simply didn’t want one. The law changes allowed you to date around a bit, but, with each partner, you felt more and more guilty as you learned about your true soulmate. By now, you’d discovered he’s a he, he’s a wizard, and he’s a hopeless romantic. Often he’d daydream about all kinds of cheesy dates and tropes he hoped to do with you. Most painfully, he thought about how excited he was to experience everything with you for the first time. Of course, you two had already had mental conversations about it and though he always accepted it, you could tell he was a bit disappointed. You didn’t have many firsts left and said you’d save those at least, but he, sweetheart he was, said he’d just give you more firsts. First scuba dive. First romantic boat date, but in the clouds. First couple’s bake at 3 AM in your shared flat. 

You stopped dating after that.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Now, it was the start of the 21st century and you were impatient. You’d traveled everywhere, sign of that beautiful blue, and no help from your cheeky soulmate. Every time you asked if he was in a new country, he’d tell you: “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” It made you tear your hair out, never settling down anywhere. After a while, he seemed to notice you were moving slower, motivation no longer able to breeze you through three large villages in a month. He started being super obnoxious about how much he “looooved America, Merlin’s beard, Land of the Free! Free! Dobby is free! What a wondrous place!” After a sharp word and a warm, giddy feeling from him, you were on a plane to The ‘States. What a way to start your 2000’s, huh?

Sixteen years. It had taken you sixteen years to comb the country, starting from New York and finally reaching California. You could feel your hope dwindle, but you had one last straw to go on: Benoit’s. He’d wanted to take you there a couple times within the past couple years so it must be in his area. Problem is, the entire west coast was covered in them, every city, small and large, having at least one. You’d ruled out the other states after years of searching, only California was left. With a bittersweet, determined huff, you boarded the plane.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

You gave up. Where the fuck was this guy? For the first time in your life, you decided to settle. You’d looked in every nook and cranny California had to offer and didn’t find him. No magic, no man, no nothing. Seeing as you couldn’t seem to find shit, you turned to your magic. You could cast a few defensive and offensive spells, but your speciality was tracking. Ironic, isn’t it? You’d tried searching for him that way, but his aura was too warded and its memory too faded from your memory to work. However, now you were doing it for yourself. You bought a map and worked your magic, seeking stone swinging in perfect circles and settling around a small town called Arcadia. Funny, you hadn’t been there yet. What if- no. “He’s gone”, you reminded yourself. You found a flat in the area and set off. 

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Douxie felt it the moment you gave up. He didn’t know exactly what you’d given up on, but he did know he hadn’t seen any more locations pop up in a couple weeks. For some ungodly known reason, he didn’t realize that all your questions of his whereabouts weren't just a passing curiosity. He was waiting for fate to bring you two together, not considering his soulmate might be so impatient and eager to meet him that they’d travel the ends of the earth. 

He’d been washing dishes at Benoit’s when his coworker pointed out the little black letters on the back of his shoulder. “He’s gone.” He went back to work with a heavy heart. “So much for waiting for fate,” he thought.

You’d just moved the last box into your new flat when you saw it. So much for fate? You spent the rest of the day in bed, tears christening your rented mattress. “I guess he gave up too.”

You couldn’t live off your savings forever, you only had so much gold left from the Golden Age of Piracy to sell to museums. Within a week, you’d secured jobs at the local Speedway and HexTech. You convinced yourself you were okay, that this was better for you. You bonded with your coworkers at HexTech, but there was one you were having difficulties with. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but you really admired her. Her name was Zoe, and you couldn’t get enough of her. 

One day, you worked up the nerve to strike up a conversation during your shared counter shift. She liked you when you got to talking, and said she’d help you finish unpacking your flat as soon as you told her why you didn’t generally act so free as you did in the past hour of conversation. You agreed to tell her while she helped you.

The two of you made a day of it. She brought snacks and a housewarming movie for you both to watch when you finished, and you made a smorgasbord for lunch paired with a good wine you’d been saving since the 1800’s. No time like the present, eh?

You plopped onto the stained couch that came with the place. Heaving a great, satisfied sigh, you looked over your flat with a smile. Settling felt good, like you had a place you belonged.

“It looks fantastic, Zoe, thank you for the help.”

“I’m good, aren’t I,” she said with a confident smile, sitting next to you on the couch. A few moments pass in silence. Her tone shifted. “Spill,” she demanded.

You sigh and recounted all that’s happened with your soulmate. Your passing in Italy. Your shame. His enthusiasm. The shift that seemed to occur all at once, both of you switching gears at the same time.

She looked at you sympathetically, knowing full well how it felt when things went wrong with a soulmate. Sucking in a breath, she hesitated. You could tell she was trying to find the right words. You almost told her it was alright that she didn’t have to-

“He sounds like a dumbass,” she blurted. 

You shared a laugh, agreeing.

“I really do like him,” you sighed. “Some part of me still has something there, you know? This is one of the few places I haven’t looked, there’s a Benoit’s here, but I’m… I’m petrified.”

Zoe looked you over. “Give me your phone.” She held out her hand and cut off any protests. After some fiddling, she handed it back and you found 5 alarms and 2 calendar events, all with very obnoxious titles. “You. Me. Benoit’s. You’re not getting out of it, I’ll bring a grit-shaka if I have to.

You groaned and moaned about it as she put in the movie, the self-satisfied smirk never leaving her face. You quieted down as the movie started, realizing there was no way around it. You were secretly thankful for such aggressive support, but opted to shake all thoughts of soulmates from your mind as you shared this moment with your new friend.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Today was the day. You’d gotten into something comfortable to try and calm your nerves, but it wasn’t doing much. After fixing your hair for the third time, you jumped at a knock on the door. Zoe came in, grabbed your purse, and pulled you out of the building by the wrist. You started walking, the cafe only two blocks away. By the first block your hands were shaking. Zoe pulled you behind Stuart’s electronics and held up a grit-shaka.

“Mother Midril, you were serious?”

“Deadly,” she said, looping it around your neck.

Your shaking calmed instantly, your magic preventing it from getting too out-of-hand. Troll magics were tricky.

You two walked in and sat at a booth, ordering your respective coffees and breakfast items from a nice young man, he couldn’t have been older than sixteen. After a bit of a wait, the voice of Adonis himself asked you both how you were doing, handing you your coffees. He spoke with Zoe a bit and introduced himself to you as Douxie. You confidently responded in kind, but your mind could only think of one thing.

You struggled to keep your composure, even with the grit-shaka. Yes, the thing calmed your nerves, but damn did it bring back some old habits. You saw Zoe’s eyes widen at Douxie’s arm but paid it little mind. He was hot. Long hair, tight jeans… you barely responded coherently as Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica blasted through your brain. Yes, it was embarrassing, yes, you wanted your soulmate more than anything, but gods above he was your type and you’d be damned to not appreciate it.

As soon as he left, you brought your hand behind your neck and removed the blasted thing, looking at Zoe in shock. Her expression mirrored yours but for a very different reason. Douxie was the dumbass. And you’d just technically praised his dick, insulted him, and asked him to fuck you over 10 times, and it was all written up his arms and probably around his torso. She broke out into a cackle, tears mildly smudging her mascara. You were utterly confused and looked at his retreating figure over your shoulder, noticing a thought coming up the arm you’d slung over the booth chair. 

“I’m flattered, I think? You must be the little minx at table three. I knew you weren’t one for waiting, but at least buy me dinner first! I’ll be right out, just let me grab my sweater to cover this a little bit. Think of the children!”

You stopped breathing altogether. Tightening your lips, you let out a muffled scream and pulled Zoe from her seat across you. Your elbow knocked over your coffee and you nearly did the right thing of helping, but you didn’t have time. All these 800 years, all your hope and searching, and you make the worst possible first impression. Sure, it wasn’t good already, but now he had a face to put to the shame. You stumble out the door, Zoe’s laughter still following you out of the now-silent diner.

Douxies pale cheeks were blazing with color as he pulled on his sweater in the break room. Going over, ahem, such blunt words, no matter the context, wasn't good for his health. His shirt raised and he saw the hurried words appear near his hip, chuckling as he started to read. He’d seen the grit-shaka; they must have taken it off.

“Shit, it’s you? I knew going was a bad idea, I’m so sorry, I’ve probably made you so uncomfortable, I’ll be going now.”

Wait… going? Douxie slammed the door open, hearing the wall plaster crunch inside. Table three was empty and covered in coffee, your purse was still there, and the diner was completely silent. Your coat swished out the door and he tripped over himself, stumbling between tables to get to the door. He ran out into the empty street, looking for something, anything. His boss called him back in to help, and he sulked into the diner. Bending down to pick up the cup so he could mop up the mess, he lit up. Your purse. It sat on the seat, the various charms and keychains glistening with the glow of one of Mordrax’s miracles.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

You and Zoe made it back to your flat, out of breath. Zoe was still giggling as she reactivated the wards on the door. You plopped on the couch again, this time in shock. Zoe shook you out of it, eyes sincere. 

“You have to go back.”

“I one hundred percent do not, there’s absolutely nothing holding me to that.”

“There’s me, dipshit, and there's something else. You’re too empathetic to put him through any more.”

You looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean?” you asked, voice small.

She explained how much it hurt him that you’d dated others even though he knew it was entirely your decision. How much of a hole it made in his heart when you gave up. How he dropped his regular temperament for a sullen, depressed shell of the man he was, going through the motions and not much more.

“I understand if you want to wait a while, but-”

“But I have to go back,” you said, drawing your knees to your chest. She scooted closer to you, wiped your gathering tears, and planted a light kiss on your forehead. She snorted when you brought your hand to the spot she’d just kissed, checking for residue from her jet black lipstick.

She gently swiped a thumb across her lip and bopped your nose. “No-transfer. I buy the good shit,” she said with a smile.

She put on a calm movie and wrapped you in a blanket, telling you how proud she was at your bravery and discussing plans for returning to Benoit’s.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Three weeks later, Douxie had called you a few times. You'd left your phone at home in Zoe’s insistence and left your purse at the scene of the crime. Now, you were ready to sort out more than your missing belongings. You walked out of your flat prepared to have another go. Sort of. You had a decorative facemask on, a large dark sweatshirt (to deter being perceived in any way), and no intention to actually speak to him. You just wanted him to know you were there and not completely rejecting him. Zoe had spoken to him, so he knew you’d be there during his shift and how nervous you were. You were grateful for her, she’d told him the gist of what you couldn’t say yourself, but some things she’d said were best heard from you. 

You sat down, fingers twitching. God, did you want to pick at something. You settled for scratching at the table, not feeling like making a mess of lint in the same booth you’d drenched in coffee not three weeks prior.

Douxie came with your drink, already having memorized what you ordered last time. Your purse was strapped across his body, laying at his hip. He gently placed it on the table and pushed your coffee towards you after carefully slipping something under it out of your field of view. You went to check and he covered it with a chuckle.

“You really aren’t very patient, are you?”

You covered your face and laughed. Taking a deep breath, you pulled the mask under your chin and placed your hands in his. “No, I’m not. Which is why I won’t wait any longer. I’m sorry. I was so caught up in myself I never thought to properly communicate with you. I hurt us both unnecessarily, can you forgive me?”

His eyes softened, lips lifting into a gentle smile. “Of course, love. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I had my part in this misunderstanding, so of course I can. I’m still on shift, but- ah, just check under the cup, would you?” He lifted one of your hands to his lips, gently brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, darling,” he said, getting up and back behind the counter.

You took a slow sip of your now-cooled coffee and nearly spit it out at what he’d placed under it. Two tickets to Warped Tour laughed at you from the tabletop. You eyed them warily as you picked up the accompanying note. 

“Hey, love! I hope you haven’t been to Warped Tour, it can be our first first! Apologies for the strange wording. I’ll see you at 7:00 on XX/XX/20XX outside your flat, I’m taking you to dinner before we go. Plus, we can get that romantic boat ride in the clouds I promised so long ago out of the way too! I can’t wait. You must be rubbing off on me. I’ll be seeing you, love. -Hisirdoux”

Next to it was a paw print. Did he have a cat? Either way, he was an absolute cheek. You drank your coffee in silence, a new calendar event to look forward to. 

[buferfliz]

My (Not So) Sweet Ice Prince

So I’ve decided to post this because Natsuo needs more love. This is straight up smut so you should be 18 or older if you’re going to read it. Enjoy.

Warnings: 18+, swearing, breeding talk, dirty talk, oral sex (receiving), vaginal sex

         You stood at the kitchen table looking over the day’s mail when you felt two strong hands grip your hips, body pressed against you, warm breath on your ear.

         “Hey there, sweetheart.” He says in a warm deep voice. You tilt your head to the side and smile at the man who was now resting his chin on your shoulder.

         “Hello, my sweet ice prince.” You say to him as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you closer against his body.

         He begins whispering in your ear in a low sexy tone. “Do you know how gorgeous you are baby? You shine brighter than any star in the sky.”

         “Aww, you’re so sweet.” You respond.

         Natsuo Todoroki, the sweetest man you had ever met and always so caring and generous too. That was whose embrace you were held in and who was saying such sweet things in your ear. Always so sweet, you thought to yourself.

         Natsuo places a sweet kiss upon your lips before continuing to sexily whisper in your ear. “I want you so badly.” He says as he grinds into your ass causing you to feel his hardening length against you. “I want to feel that sweet pussy gripping my hard cock like a vice. I want to be so deep inside of you that I forget where I end and you begin.” He grinds into you more as he nips at your earlobe, a flush to your cheeks appearing at his words and actions.

         Natsuo Todoroki, the sweetest man you had ever met until he wasn’t. But you loved every sweet and filthy thing that left his mouth. You loved all the delicious things he did to your body, the way he took care of you, pampered you, and of course the mind blowing orgasms he gave you.

         He runs his hands up and down your inner thighs as he begins to kiss and suck on your neck and then onto your shoulder. You let out a low moan as he finds your sweet spot and begins to suck and bite at it in earnest. When he is satisfied with his mark, he looks at you and gives you another sweet kiss.

         “What do you say princess? Going to let me bend you over this table and fuck you senseless?” He asks you with a seductive smirk.

         You turn around in his arms to face him and say with a smile, “Well when you ask so nicely, how can I say no?”

         Natsuo lets out a little growl and removes your shirt before laying you back onto the table. He places kisses all over your face, neck, and chest causing you to giggle. He briefly rises up and removes his own shirt before descending onto your soft breasts. He kisses and licks the flesh before swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple and taking it into his mouth. He fervently sucks it while his hand shows attention to its twin.

         At the feeling of his mouth, you can’t help but to groan low in your throat. “Oh Natsu,” you breathe out as you weave one hand into his snowy tresses while the other rubs along the toned muscles of his shoulder and upper back.

Natsuo gently bites down on your hardened nub as he gives it a particularly strong suck. The sensation causing you to let out a loud moan as you arch your back slightly and tighten your grip on his hair, tugging just a bit. Your other hand digging your fingernails into the hard muscles of his shoulder. He groans at the actions of your hands, enjoying the feeling of it.

He removes his mouth from your breast and moves to the other, lavishing it in the same treatment as the first, you revel in the pleasure he is heaping upon you. You feel your desire warm your entire body as it pools in your heated core. You feel your thighs become wet from the excess amount of slick, your ruined bottoms no longer able to contain the deluge anymore.

With his leg up against your hot center, Natsuo feels your wetness as it soaks through his gray sweats. He removes his mouth from your breast and proceeds to liberate you of your bottoms. He smirks.

“Damn sweetheart, you’re fucking drenched. You really want my cock badly, don’t you princess?” He asks you as he palms the hard outline of his fat cock still covered by his sweats.

“Look at my leg, you made a fucking mess of my pants and I’ve hardly done anything to you yet.” He smugly states as you see the large wet spot on his pants leg. You feel your cheeks burn at his words and the obvious evidence of your arousal on his leg. Natsuo continues to palm his cock over his pants.

“Do you want my rock hard cock baby? You are the reason it’s like this after all.” He teases you. You nod your head yes at his question. “Come now sweetheart, ask me nicely.” He continues to smirk at you as you squirm under his gaze.

“Yes Natsu, I want your hard cock inside of me.” You tell him, cheeks flushing darker. He smiles at you warmly.

“Aww, you’re so cute princess. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.” He says as his smile turns into a teasing one. You pout and let out a whimper at his words. “Oh don’t worry baby, it’s just that I’m parched and I need to get a drink of that sweet love nectar of yours.”

He gives you a Cheshire grin before licking his lips and spreading your legs open wide before him. He licks your inner thigh clean of the slick that had collected there before doing the same for your other leg. He bites your inner thigh eliciting a gasp and a moan from within you. Natsuo licks a stripe up your dripping slit. “Ohhh Natsu” You groan in pleasure.

“You like that princess? Like the feeling of my tongue on those sweet lower lips of yours?” He gives you a devilish smirk. “Itadakimasu, baby.” He dives into your glistening folds as he drinks up the wetness present there. He latches his mouth onto your sensitive clit and sucks hard, two fingers easily gliding into your tight canal.

Natsuo places his free hand onto your lower belly to hold you in place as you try to buck your hips. “Ah ah, baby. Hold still and let me devour you.” He says against your clit, sending delightful vibrations up your spine.

Moans and curses tumble from your lips at his ministrations. He hooks his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you, sure to hit that spongy spot inside you while continuing to feast upon your clit. His fingers pick up speed as he feels your walls begin to flutter around them.

“Ahh fuck Natsu! I’m going to cum!” You cry out.

“Do it then sweetheart. Give me all that sweet nectar of yours.” He says before he bites down hard on your clit.

“Fuucckk Natsuuu!” You scream as your orgasm rocks through your body.

Natsuo removes his fingers and drinks down all you have to offer him before licking his fingers clean. He wipes at his glistening face with the back of his hand. “You’re fucking delectable baby.” He says, another wide grin on his face. “Now I think it’s time I give you what you really want.” He smirks as he sheds his bottoms. His fat cock slapping against his toned stomach as it is released from its confines. He grips his cock in his hand and gives it a couple of pumps as he lines himself up with your quivering pussy.

“Are you ready princess?” He asks.

Still catching your breath from your previous orgasm, you pant out, “Yes Natsu. Please give me that fat cock of yours.”

He gives you a big smile as he plunges into you, slowly stretching you inch by inch.

“Ohh fuck. You feel so fucking good, stretching me out so much.” You groan out.

“Fuck baby. Your pussy is always so fucking tight. So fucking perfect for me. I’m going to make you mine sweetheart.” He tells you as he bottoms out inside of you. He sucks in a hiss of air at the feeling of your walls fully engulfing him.

“So fucking tight. So fucking mine!” he growls out deeply as he slowly begins rocking in and out of you, steadily increasing his pace. Moans and curses escape the both of you as the pleasure builds.

Natsuo increases the speed and power of his thrusts until he is slamming into you, hitting your sensitive spot with each movement. The table shakes and moves across the floor from the force of his thrusts, the items on it crashing to the ground. He hitches your legs around his waist so he can bury himself as deeply as possible with every thrust.

“Fuucck, are you gonna cum around my fat cock baby? Gonna milk me for all I’m worth?”

“Hnngh, fuck yes Natsu!” You exclaim as you feel the edge of your orgasm begin to build until it washes over you, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head in pleasure. “Gahh, Fuckk Natsuu!” You scream out as the walls of your pussy begin to milk his cock.

Natsuo feels your walls milk him as he increases his pace chasing his own release. “Fuck! Milk that cock princess! I’m gonna cum so hard and so deep inside you! I’m gonna flood that ripe womb! I’ll make sure to fill you with lots of little Todorokis! You’ll look like a goddess pregnant with my baby! Unngh!” He cries out as he shoots rope after rope of thick cum deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, panting hard as he feels the last twitches of his load come out. You stroke his damp hair as you both catch your breath, his cock softening inside you.

After a few minutes, Natsuo removes his cock from within you and you both end up sitting on the floor. Natsuo with his back against the kitchen island and you snuggled in his lap, his arms around you and your head against his chest. He places sweet kisses against your hair.

“That was amazing, my sweet ice prince.” You say to him before chuckling a bit. “Though maybe my not so sweet ice prince would be more appropriate.” You laugh a bit more and feel the rumble of laughter in Natsuo’s chest as well.

“You know you love my sweet and not so sweet sides, princess.” He says with a smirk.

“You’re right, I do love all of you.” You respond.

“I love you too, sweetheart. You belong to me.” He says as he gives you a big hug.

“I beg to differ, Natsuo.” A cool voice says from the doorway drawing the attention of you both. You look over and see Shoto leaning in the doorway, eyes fixed on the two of you.

“She belongs to the both of us.” He says with a smirk. “And now, baaby,” he flashes you a predatory look, “It’s my turn to play.”

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

Whirling Birds

This is the 10th time (what, seriously!?) joining @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ! Thank you again for the creative theme! This story might be a bit difficult to understand so here is the context. Two characters met in the past, then they meet again in the present. It’s a sort of reincarnation story basically, and it sets in Camden Market in London, the place I love. And I just want to say big thanks to FFF team and those who have read my stories. it means a lot to me! Hope you enjoy. 

Word Count: 1019

T/W: nightmare, flashback 

Ray (He/Him): warrior (past), student & part-time worker at bakery (present)

Hrafn(They/Them): mage (past), kid in early teenage (present)

This nightmare again... Ray woke up in tears in the middle of the night. Despite the chilly autumn air slipping into the bedroom, he was sweating heavily from head to toe. He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down. He looked at his arms and hands carefully. No wound, no cut, just smooth as always. Usually, the beginning of the nightmare faded away as he woke up. But he remembered the very last part vividly.

In the dream, he was equipped with heavy armour and carrying an empty scabbard. His chainmail was torn apart, and he could see the blood-stained sleeves of the tunic. He was on his knees, unable to move at all. His own body felt so heavy and alien to him. The world flared up, and the roaring wind deafened his ears. Among the fire and turbulence, he could hear screams and battle cries. The end is near, he thought. The end of what, though? His own life, or the world itself? He didn't care about it anymore. His mind was about to go blank. Then something fell on him at lightning speed. At first, he thought it was a shower of black arrows. He shut his eyes firmly. However, the stinging pain he expected never came. Instead, something like mist embraced him tenderly. He could feel that all of his wounds were healing by the soft touch of feathers. Feathers? What!? He opened his eyes in surprise and found a pale face with shining dark eyes just a few inches away from his own. That person's raven-black hair was blowing in the hot gust. They reached out to him and shielded him from the heat and blast with their thick black mantle. 'It's alright, hold on to me close.' They whispered. Their voice was so subtle, yet it echoed like a choir's hymns in Ray's head. He leaned forward and grabbed the wings, which were a mantle a moment ago. The pale face smiled gently. Oh, why your smile made me so sad? Oh no, no, I know what is going to happen. I must not let my hands go, I MUST NOT! Not this time! His chest felt so tight, and tears started rolling down his dusty face. But the winged person broke the eye contact and looked up. Then they uttered some words he could not understand. A sudden strong blast nearly blew him away, but he clung to the person with all his strength left in him. Then calmness washed over him. He slowly opened his eyes again. The fierce fire was all gone, so was the burning heat. He was in the middle of the whirling dark feathers - the eye of the black cyclone, where everything was unbelievably quiet and still. And he looked at a beautiful, yet fragile smile slowly collapsed in the air.   No, no, no!! As the wind calmed down, the face completely faded away. Ray could hear his fellow warriors approaching in haste, shouting in joy. 'Everything was restored! Even the burnt forest! And look my wounds, it completely healed!' 'Mine, too! Oh my, my lost horse is coming back to me!' But Ray could not stand up. He knew that winged person saved him, and cleansed the blood-soaked battlefield by using their own source of life. He just knew it.

Ray made a cup of coffee and grabbed his longboard. Skateboarding was the best way to reset his tangled mind. 'Ok, I still got half an hour till I gotta head out to work. All good!' The sky was clear, and the rising sun was turning the horizon gold. Ray worked at a local bakery, so he had to get up very early sometimes. But that meant he could finish work in the early afternoon. A visit to the nearby street market after work was one of his favourite things to do. He loved the hustle and bustle of the street market and the smell of exotic street foods. 'But I guess I'm gonna go to the canal today.' He murmured to himself. There was a charming canal running through the market area, and there were many colourful canal boats moored alongside the waterfront walk. After work, he walked down the path leading to the canal with his longboard in one arm and a bag of freshly baked bread in the other.   And then, he saw a strange graffiti on the brick wall by the canal. It was a chalk art of hundreds of whirling birds. As he traced the silhouette of the birds with his eyes, he reached a skinny figure at the edge of the brick wall. A boy, or a girl, he couldn't tell. But their raven black hair looked somewhat familiar. Without realising, he approached the young artist who was mindlessly standing in front of their drawing. 'Hey, you got such a talent! This graffiti is amazing. You drew it all by yourself?'   They looked at him, totally caught off guard. They widened their eyes. Whoa, what beautiful eyes this kid has! But their eyes give an impression that they belong to a much older person for some reason... He thought. But before the raven-haired kid answered, some cyclists shouted at them from behind. 'Oy! Watch out, get out of our way!' Ray managed to catch the raven-haired kid in his arms and jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the passing cyclists. Both of them fell to the ground.   'Geez, damn rude cyclists! Did you get hurt? Are you OK?' Ray looked at the pale face, just a few inches away from his own. Their eyes met. He felt like being hit by a thunderbolt. He pulled them closer as if they might vanish otherwise.   'Have we met before...?' Then Ray realised how silly it sounded. But the raven-haired kid gently smiled in return. 'I can smell something nice!' They suddenly said as they hopped up. 'Oh, yes! That's my lunch. Hey, why don't you have some freshly baked baguettes? It's my treat!' Ray asked, and the kid smiled again. Hand in hand, they started walking towards the bright side.