#she was limping so bad today I feel awful

[dragon-huntress]

.

[beesspacedotorg]

Handle With Care

Summary: You've had a truly awful day, luckily, your adoring boyfriend Minho is there to make it better. 2.5k words

Warnings: there's sex, but honestly it feels like someone accidentally got porn in my fluff so do with that what you will. reader is as gender neutral as physically possible. reader is also lowkey a crybaby, sorry but actually I'm not

Notes: Hello adoring public. It turns out, I can write fanfiction, and with the encouragement of Juno and Ems, I can also post it! There is a cat in this, she was inspired by a cat my family used to have and a cat my family currently has. They're both calico which I think explains everything you need to know about them.

There’s a lot you can say about the day you had today, and most of them start with sh- and end in -itty. You’re thinking on this as you dive head first onto the rough material of your couch, great for sitting, bad for face planting. You hear a scratching by your head and absentmindedly bat your cat away from the arm of the couch, mumbling something about how she has a perfectly good cat tree two feet away before resuming your completely justified sulking.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come home. How was your day?” There’s a voice above you and you can picture him in your mind's eye, leaning against the back of the couch as he stares at your limp form, probably eyeing the shoes you didn’t take off by the door. You mumble something half hearted in response and he huffs before the sound of walking hits your ears and all the breath leaves your body at once. He’s sitting on you. This motherfucker is sitting on you.

“Get off, Minho” You had to tilt your head to the side, it’s hard enough to breathe through couch fabric as is, much less when there’s a full grown man sitting on your back.

“You should answer people when they try to talk to you, jagiya.”

“You shouldn’t sit on people while they’re laying down, yeobo.” Your voice is a lot more acidic than his was and a twinge of guilt settles on you before it dissipates as he shifts and manages to place more weight on your back.

“Hmm. I guess we’re both doing things that we shouldn’t then. How tragic.” His voice is deadpan, and you still can’t see him from where your head is turned- your view is limited to the back of the couch and his arm in your periphery- but you can feel the dead stare he’s aiming at your skull. There’s a silence for a few moments while you engage in a war of attrition, neither of you willing to give up just yet, but it’s getting genuinely hard to breathe and your back is starting to hurt.

“It sucked, please get off.” He does, patting your back consolingly.

“See? Was that so hard?” He guides your head to his lap as you both sit back down, petting over your hair like he would his cats. “Tell me, what’s got my baby in such a tizzy?”

You grumble at him, rolling over to shove your face into his stomach, tired and petulant. He sighs softly, but keeps patting your head, so you know he’s mostly just doing it for show.

“That kind of day, hmm, jagi?” And you nod again. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from a normal day, it’s just that the right things managed to go very wrong and subsequently ruined your day in a way that has pressure forming behind your eyes and your voice cracking stupidly every time you try to talk.

You both sit for a while before he puts something on the TV and gently shoves your head off his lap.

“Hey-”

“Do you want the dinner I worked so hard on to go cold?” He has his hands on his hips in front of you and you laugh slightly at how funny he looks. He rolls his eyes and goes, coming back with two bowls of something before he forcefully sits you up and shoves it in your hands.

“Eat.”

“Yes, chef.”

The food is delicious, it always is when Minho cooks it, he’s got a talent for it you’ve never really seen firsthand, and you consider yourself truly blessed to be able to eat it as often as he’s able to make it for you. Still, gratefulness and taste aside, your day was shitty enough that every mouthful tastes like ash and turns to rot in your stomach, leaving you with an unsettling queasiness that shouldn’t ever be attributed to your boyfriend’s cooking. You’re shoving the contents around with a spoon before he huffs- a real one this time- and takes the bowl from you, setting it on the coffee table next to his own before he mutes the TV.

“Okay. Quite clearly something is wrong. What can I do to help you?” You think he knows, but you like that he asks anyway. Minho always asks, always lets you talk and sort out whatever’s going on before he tries to help. Even if your answer is a simple shake of the head, a simple, I don’t feel like it, become a mind reader, he always asks before he helps. Sometimes you wonder how he always knows what you need, others you just decide to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

You huff and your lip wobbles pathetically and he coos, slightly condescending.

“Crying already? I haven’t even done anything.” He’s teasing, but his hands are gentle as he pulls you into his lap, his hands are gentle as they find their way under your shirt, his mouth is gentle as it kisses down the side of your face to your neck.

“���M sorry,” you’re not the biggest fan of crying, neither is he, but for different reasons. He’s not someone who’s brought to tears easily, you are, but there’s an inherent shame in it, you think. Something so embarrassing about getting worked up enough to start crying like a baby, and so as much and as often as you feel like crying, you don’t. This he also knows, because he knows everything.

“Aish, why are you sorry for? I didn’t tell you to apologize, did I?” He taps your cheek lightly, causing you to look up at him, he plants a kiss on your nose, then your mouth.

“Sweet thing, don’t worry about anything except for what I tell you to, okay?” And you nod and he smiles.

You’re not much for talking in times like these, everything is so sensitive and soft and talking feels like a cheese grater on this cloudlike moment so you don’t and he knows, so he doesn’t chide you for it. Usually, he would. He’d crack a hand down on your ass or grab a fistful of your hair and tell you that he asked you a question so he expects an answer, but that’s not what you need right now, so he doesn’t. He just kisses your jaw again before he puts both of his warm hands under your shirt and lets his fingers poke at your chest.

He always says his hands are small, but really, you wouldn’t be able to tell, not with the way he cups your chest in his hand and lets his thumb brush over your nipple, gentle and reverent. It’s not much, not as much as he usually gives you, but it’s enough to have your mouth dropping open with a gasp and your back arching into his hand, it’s enough to have him giggling softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive today?” He’s teasing again, as soft as he is right now, he’s still Minho, he still likes to poke fun. You huff, biting at his shoulder softly in retaliation and he lets you, pinching your nipple just this side of too much in retribution before one of his hands wanders down to your ass, groping and squishing the flesh. Your breath stutters in your chest as he pushes your hips forward onto his, friction sending sparks up your spine.

“Min-” You’re desperate and he hasn’t even done anything yet, not really. A few stray touches and you already feel yourself shattering to pieces in his grasp, you’re not afraid though, and not quite ashamed. He’ll take care of you, he always does.

He does it again, guides your hips forward until you’ve gotten the hint to keep going by yourself and you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, so you do, removing your head from the home it’s made on his shoulder and making a go at his mouth. It’s messy, your coordination shot already, and you almost smash your forehead into his nose before he catches your head with a laugh.

“Easy there. Bloody noses aren’t exactly sexy.” You disagree, he could make anything sexy, but you don’t have time to voice that thought as he pushes his mouth onto yours and lovingly shoves his tongue down your throat. The kiss is messy, they always are. However gentle he is, he can never seem to stop himself from kissing you until your face is covered in drool and spit, and if it were anyone else, you’d be mildly repulsed, but you like the way he looks at your mouth after it’s over, so you let it slide. 

You pull away, chest burning and heaving and look at him before you still, eyes drawn to something by his head.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You don’t answer, gaze still drawn away from him.

“There’s a little white girl staring at me.” He turns his head to the side and laughs as he comes face to face with your cat, her green eyes boring into him. He scratches her head affectionately and lets her headbutt him before your center of gravity is shifting drastically and you’re clinging onto him for dear life.

The bedroom door shuts before you’re very aware of it and suddenly there’s a mattress under your back and a Minho over your front and his hands are up your shirt again, this time shoving it off of you until your chest is bare. You shiver slightly from the cold and then there’s a blanket being shoved around your shoulders and you smile up at him. He knows you so well, he loves you so much and your eyes are welling with tears.

“Aigoo, my little crybaby. It’s just a blanket,” there’s a kiss on each of your cheek bones, “silly thing. Save your tears for when my cock is in you, hmm?” Your breath stutters again and your hands are tugging at his shirt until he takes it off, he laughs again when your hands immediately find his chest.

“I’m glad someone appreciates my hard work.”

“They’re nice boobs.” The sentence catches him off guard, makes him laugh hard enough that he loses his balance a little and his weight settles onto you more. It’s comforting, like a weighted blanket that can talk and walk and kiss you silly.

Then, his hands are under your bottoms, tugging them off your legs and you’re suddenly wearing nothing and he’s still in his pants, which you find disgustingly unfair. You reach down and tug on the hem off his sweats, pouting and huffing until he gets the message and tugs those off too.

“You just want to get me naked,” he starts. “I can’t believe you just want me for my body.” You nod cheekily in response and he smacks your shoulder.

“Yah! See if I’m ever nice to you again!” But he’s kissing your neck again as his hands guide your legs to cross over his hips before he’s touching you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head tip back into the pillows.

“There we go. So pretty when you’re like this, hmm? So soft and sweet for me.” His fingers are in you now, pressing insistently against that spot that makes white splash in your vision and reflexively forces your legs shut. He grunts slightly as your thighs squeeze around his hips, pressure just this side of uncomfortable. He doesn’t say anything though, just keeps his pace steady inside you until you’re almost tipping over and he stops. You look at him with something akin to betrayal, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but before you can open your mouth to complain he’s sliding home and you don’t have enough air to say anything anyway.

He catches it though, rolls his eyes as he sees the way your attitude was about to flare up.

“What did I tell you earlier, jagiya? Don’t worry about anything unless I tell you to worry about it. I always take care of you, don’t I?” He does, he’s good to you like that. He sounds slightly out of breath already, unusual for him, but you don’t mind because it feels like you’re seconds away from God’s doorstep yourself.

His pace is slow and deep, bass knock steady even as you squirm under him. If this were a normal situation, he’d stop, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly until you stayed still, but this isn’t a normal situation so he lets you wiggle, only huffing in mild irritation before he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna knock us off the damn bed, baby.” But he doesn’t make any move to stop you, and you feel too good to really process his words anyway. You love him, you really do, and you’re struck with the overwhelming urge to tell him, to let him know, to make him know. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging in until he hisses and levels you with a glare, one that instantly softens when he meets your eyes.

“I love you,” it comes out of you as a sob, like it was wrenched from your vocal chords before you gave yourself permission to think it. “I love you so much.” You’re rambling now, repeating those three words over and over and Minho coos, hips faltering just slightly. He always goes weak when you tell him you love him, and you keep it in your back pocket like a weapon for the times that you’re in trouble.

“I love you, too, jagiya. ‘S that why you’re crying? Hmm? Love me so much it’s gotta spill out from your pretty eyes?” You nod in response, breath hitching from the pleasure and the tears and his hand drifts from its place on your hip to touch you again and you’re spilling liquid heat before you can really register what’s happening. You feel him inside you, too, insides suddenly molten warm but you’re floating too high for it to feel like it’s happening to you, like you’ve been temporarily ejected from your body.

When your soul settles back into your bones, Minho is laying next to you, staring at you with his wide eyes, you look over at him and smile.

“Is boba really worth it?” He looks confused at your question before you poke him on the eyelid and he laughs.

“Feel better?” You consider for a moment. Your teeth don’t feel like they’re too big for their sockets and your bones no longer feel itchy. You’re hungry, but mostly, your mind is quiet. There’s no overwhelming pressure behind your eyes and when you talk your voice cracks from sleep instead of from the force of choking back tears.

“Much. I’m hungry, though.” You give your best impression of puppy eyes at him and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. You’ve been told that your pleading face looks mildly perturbing, but Minho always says you remind him of Soonie when you do it. It makes you feel slightly bad for Soonie, soon the cat isn’t going to be able to get anything off of Minho because you’ll have rendered him immune.

He comes back with your reheated bowl in one hand and your cat in the other.

“She screamed at me until I picked her up. Stood on my feet and hollered.” He winces slightly. “I should’ve put on boxers because she almost mistook my dick for a toy.”

[hawnks]

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

[coolyum]

𓍯𓂃 𝓟ink 𝓟ony 𝓒lub

warnings : probably ooc dallas, fem!reader, mention of puke, mention of hooking up (nothing happens), hungover!reader, kindahungover!dallas, i've never been hungover b4 so i'm really bad at writing it, not proofread

pairing : dallas x reader

your vision was blurry as you slowly woke up, everything seeming dull at first. your eyes felt heavy and your mind felt fuzzy. a headache hit you like a train, pulling a soft, raspy groan from your throat. that's when you heard a similar sound from beside you. a little grumble could be heard followed by the rustling of bedsheets, causing you to lazily turn your head.

you could just tell that you were going to be so hungover today. your brain hurts, your stomach aches, your limbs are asleep. it feels awful. but you try to focus on whoever is laying next to you at the moment. you blink heavily, but even with blurry vision, you can see that it's a boy. not just any boy, dallas winston.

what's dallas winston doing here? why is dally laying next to you? you furrow your eyebrows and rub your eyes. you don't even notice he's awake until he says something to you.

"you feelin' better?" he mumbles, sleep evident in his voice. he's probably hungover, as well. his head rests against the pillow, and you can't help but notice at his position that he's not wearing a shirt. he's still wearing his signature necklace, though. you can't help but wonder something. it may be awkward, but you're too sleepy and hungover to care much. for now.

"did we hook up?" you ask, lazily forcing yourself over onto your side. you can't even make sense of how you feel. you've never drunkenly hooked up with someone before so you don't know how it'd feel the next morning.

a low chuckle comes from dally's throat. he shakes his head. "nah, we didn't. i wouldn't take advantage of ya like that."

it was a nice reassurance. your eyes slowly adjusted to the light streaming through his bedroom window. this is when you realize you're in his bedroom, in his bed.

"why am i in here?" you ask softly, genuinely wondering but also too tired to comprehend too much information.

dally caught this, so he made sure to keep his answer simple and understandable for your poor hungover brain. "you were really drunk. you ended up blackin' out so i brought you up to my room."

you let out a half-assed mumble in response. your eyes slowly closed as you couldn't keep them open any longer. you slightly adjusted yourself, pulling blanket up a little bit higher. that's when dally reaches out to gently brush something off your collarbones. he lets out a little grunt.

"damn glitter won't come off," he complains, giving up on getting it off of your chest.

at this point, your body feels aware of the body glitter you sprinkled on yourself the night before, and the makeup still on your face. you'll take care of it when you feel better. your shirt is slipping off of your shoulder, but then you realize it's not your shirt as you become more and more aware.

you open your eyes tiredly and look down to see if it's any of your shirts. nope. it's a simple, oversized black tee. dally notices how you look kind of confused. he finds it endearing. he finds you endearing.

"oh yeah, you puked all over your shirt last night so i gave you mine."

dally is acting kind of unusual. at least in anyone else's eyes. he's not the kinda guy to leave a severely drunken girl to fend for herself, but he's also not the kinda guy to care to the point of bringing her to his room to make sure she's alright. you, of course, couldn't grasp that information at the moment.

"think i'm gonna puke again," you say simply, the sickness evident in your voice. dally sits up, gently pulling you up with him. he's sure to be careful as he attempts to hold your limp body in his arms and pick you up without causing more sickness. he knows you need some time to sober up and feel better.

he brings you to the bathroom successfully, gently holding your hair back as you bend over the toilet. although he's this tough guy or acts like one for everyone to see, he cares about you. you and him aren't that close, so he sees pampering you today as an opportunity to get to know you better. he's never felt like this before. he's tried to avoid it, but now, he knows he can't. so as he holds your hair back and rubs his hand up and down your cold back, he realizes that this is almost if not completely at your lowest. he wants to see you at your worst and at your best. he's seen both. he knows he likes both. he wants both.

he's willing to try for you, even if it just starts with making sure you don't get sick and you sober up today.

xoxo,

coolyum!

[heyiwrotesomethings]

DEMON SLAYER CUZ YESSSSSSSS.

shinobu x female reader

I wanna kick uzuis ass again soooooooo

Uzui is being a dick to everyone because he is in a mood and make fun of shinobu (u find the reason nth comes to mind rn) and the reader having an awful day herself kicks his ass and brings him to his wives "next time that disgrace you call a husband insults my soon to be wife again I'm gonna cut his tongue of and shove it so far up his ass it will come out of his mouth again 🙃

have a good day ladies oh and do keep him a check or I will 🙂 byeeeee"

gl finishing all of those rqst

Bad Morning

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know what’s up with me, but this threat was a bit too descriptive for me and since this is like, at least the third time we’re beating Uzui up, this one is kind of lackluster, apologies! Hopefully I still got the message across lol. Hope you still like it! Word Count: ~1,220

Uzui Tengen woke up on the wrong side of the bed earlier that morning. Which was to say Suma had accidentally pushed Makio out of bed, which in turn lead to Makio dragging her out of said bed by the ankles in retaliation. Tengen tried his best to ignore them and focus on Hinatsuru’s cute mumblings as she turned to lay on her other side, but Makio’s growls and Suma’s cries made it downright impossible.

“Could you two keep it down, goddamnit! Why does this have to happen every morning?!”

“Maybe we should invest in a bigger bed.” Hinatsuru murmured, pressing a pillow over her head.

“Or we just make Suma sleep on the floor. She kicked me last night too and I have the bruise to prove it!” Makio pulled up the hem of her sleepware to show the bruise her thigh was sporting and Suma wailed.

“I’m sorry! Let me kiss it better! Don’t make me sleep on the floor Makio, please!”

“Nobody is sleeping on the floor!” Tengen groaned. “I’ll get a bigger bed, okay? Can I just get one more hour of sleep—“

“Caw!” Nijimaru came in through the window with flapping wings and rattling beads. A damn fine, flamboyant bird if Tengen did say so himself, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see less at the moment. “You’ll be late for the meeting if you stay in bed any longer, Uzui!”

“Damn it all, that’s today?” Tengen shot out of bed, jamming his toe against the bedside table. He cursed and limped his way to the bathroom, now even more pissed because he would have to skip his morning skin care routine if he was going to make it to Oyakata-sama’s mansion in time.

He barely had enough time to bathe and put on his makeup before heading out the door. No time to even eat breakfast. At least Suma ran him some toast at the door and jumped up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It certainly made up for the rude awakening at least, sweet girl.

Still, all the toast and kisses in the world couldn’t make him shake off the sour mood he was in. His morning routine was sacred. When his routine was disturbed, it honestly felt like his whole day was ruined.

People have bad days. It’s normal to maybe ask for a little space, to tell people you aren’t really feeling yourself, but the moment you use your bad morning as an excuse to be shitty to other people, then expect your day to get much, much worse.

“Iguro, come on man. Can you get your scrawny ass outta my way? Shouldn’t you be sitting like a broody tree’d raccoon by now?”

“We’re talking, walk around. It’s a fucking garden.” Sanemi was quick to shoot back as Obanai glared.

“Nobody can make anything easy today, can they?” Tengen sighed loudly, bumping into Sanemi as he walked past the two fuming men.

He rested in his usual spot, hoping to maybe get a little bit more sleep in before the Master arrived. However, Mitsuri was talking up a storm with Shinobu and (Y/n) and the excitement in her voice as she spoke made it hard for Tengen to relax.

“She made me dango for helping me get her cat out of the tree! Isn’t that great? It was really good too! And then—!”

“Gods, Kanroji,” Tengen groaned, “would it kill you to take a page out of Tomioka’s book and be quite for once?”

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” (Y/n) scowled.

“Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it doesn’t give you license to make everyone else around you feel miserable as well.” Shinobu chimed in, she put a reassuring hand on Mitsuri’s shoulder while she gave Tengen a disapproving look.

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Obanai growled, Kaburamaru hissed in agreement.

“Perhaps you should take a page out of Tomioka-san’s book and butt out of conversations that have nothing to do with you, hm? Contrary to what your ego may tell you, the world does not revolve around you.” Shinobu added for good measure.

“Big words for somebody so small. I could crush you like a grape between my fingers.”

“Uzui, my friend! You should stop talking before you say something you’ll really regret!” Rengoku advised.

“So disgruntled,” Shinobu tisked pityingly, “Given how out of sorts you are this morning, I doubt you could even brush me with those meaty, perpetually sweaty hands.

Tengen took a deep breath through clenched teeth, but (Y/n) spoke up before him, her voice low, warning,

“Uzui-san, I’d listen to Rengoku-san if I were you. Act like an adult and let it go. With any luck, the meeting will be over in an hour and you can sleep the rest of the day away.”

“Tch,“ Tengen sneered, “how about this, you tell your little, and I do mean shrimpy, puny, girlfriend to zip it, and then I will too.”

“I am not her keeper.” (Y/n) said through gritted teeth.

“Well if she can’t keep her mouth shut, why should I?!”

“Ah, my deepest apologies, Uzui-san,” Shinobu began, not looking very sorry at all, “(Y/n) and I had a rather late night in the lab ourselves. My mistake for trying to hold you to the same standards we hold ourselves to.”

Tengen was seeing red. He wanted to wipe that perfect little smile right off of Shinobu’s face and before he could think better of it, he had thought of something to say that would hit her where it would hurt.

“Wipe that fake-ass smile off your face, little Kanae wannabe. You want to imitate her so bad, start by acting like less of a bitch maybe.”

Well, that sure made the smile fall from Shinobu’s lips. Her expression became impassive, an eerie blankness, but no one took the time to really notice because (Y/n) was already leaping to her feet, kicking up pebbles that scattered over Tengen’s thighs as she got closer.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Sanemi growled, his head snapping towards Uzui.

“Uzui-san, I know you can be abrasive, but that kind of talk is unacceptable.” Gyomei spoke up for the first time that day and that was how Tengen knew he might have really fucked up.

“Okay, okay, you are a fucking dead man now! I don’t give a damn about you not getting your beauty sleep, you wanna play nasty, we’ll play nasty alright!”

(Y/n) knew Shinobu could take care of herself, but she also knew that Uzui had hit a nerve. Like Shinobu had said, they had a tough night, tougher than Uzui’s, she imagined. She had been helping Shinobu with her latest experiment on her journey to find a poison that could end an Upper Moon.

Despite all of the promising research, the experiment had fallen flat, or well, more accurately caused a small explosion that (Y/n) and Shinobu spent the next three hours cleaning up after. Thankfully they had been wearing the proper gear during the whole ordeal, but they still smelt overwhelmingly of wisteria.

(Y/n) got close enough to Uzui that he could smell it on her and the potency stung his nose. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and he engulfed her wrist with his hand—

“Oyakata-sama is coming!” Mitsuri squealed, noticing two of the Master’s children leading him around the building. It must have been one of his good days and he decided to take a stroll.

“I’m not done with you.” (Y/n) hissed, letting go of Uzui’s uniform with a shove before quickly dropping to the ground.

“You’re like a yappy little dog,” he sneered, “All I gotta say is, ‘boo!’ and you’ll be shaking in your sandals.”

“The first thing I’m gonna do is cut out your own tongue and feed it to you, asshole.”

Tengen grit his teeth together. The Master was much too close now to continue trading vulgarities.

Tengen started out the meeting boiling hot, but listening to the Master speak had its usual calming affects and before Tengen knew it, he was in a relaxed, meditative state. It was the closest thing to sleep one could have while awake. It was like magic. The Master bid them all farewell and Tengen inhaled deeply, then released a relaxed exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. He felt so much better—

(Y/n)’s fist came sailing at him with all the force of a mantis shrimp and she decked him, making direct contact with his temple.

“Alright Uzui, how about you and me go for a little stroll?” (Y/n) grunted, heaving the hulking man to his feet was no simple task, especially now that he was having a hard time standing up himself after that vision spotting hit. She turned to look back at Shinobu with adoration and concern, “Would you like to come along, dear?”

“I suppose.” Shinobu shrugged before rising to her feet as well. Truthfully, she didn’t want to have to look at Uzui for another minute, but if (Y/n) accidentally killed him, that would be one less Hashira and they were already spread thin enough as it was.

The remaining Hashira, that cared enough to, watched on as (Y/n) pulled Tengen away from the mansion by his ear, very thankful they weren’t in his shoes at that moment.

Tengen shuffled down the path, bending with (Y/n)’s sharp pushes and pulls while the two women discussed what they should eat for lunch. Sadistic beings…

Though it was hard for his eyes to focus because of that sharp punch to his temple, he soon recognized the scenery and realized (Y/n) was taking him home, to what end, he was afraid to find out.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He heard (Y/n)’s muffled voice through the ringing in his ears.

“Oh gods, what did he do this time?” Makio groaned.

“(Y/n)-san, I don’t know what he did, but please, be a little more gentle with him.” Hinatsuru requested hesitantly.

She was hesitant because she knew her husband had a track record of saying or doing stupid things. Even Suma, the most sympathetic of the bunch, could agree that sometimes getting slapped around a little bit was warranted when it came to their husband’s unfiltered words and uncouth actions.

“Don’t worry, I caught him off guard with the first punch, so I didn’t go any further. I probably nearly fractured his skull since he didn’t think to defend himself at all, don’t you think so, Shinobu?”

“Oh yes, given how he’s been wobbling, and that he threw up in the bushes on the way here, it’s safe to say he would have been in real trouble if you had decided to keep going.”

Makio, Hina and Suma paled, quickly taking possession of their loopy husband when (Y/n) offered him to them. It was difficult to keep all that muscle up right, so they could only imagine just how furious (Y/n) was to have been able to basically drag him all the way home.

“The next time your disgraceful, woefully un-flamboyant husband says or does anything that hurts my fiancée, intentionally or not, he may not make it back to you in one piece. Understand?”

“Yes, we’ll talk to him. I’m sorry.” Hinatsuru hung her head low.

“You have nothing to apologize for, but when your husband snaps out of it, you might suggest he start looking for ways to atone because I’m not quite so sure I could hold myself back if I see him again too soon. That single punch was not satisfying at all.”

“We’ll work on it.” Makio swore.

“We promise! Please don’t kill him!” Suma sobbed.

“I won’t kill him, too much paperwork.” (Y/n) promised, then after a pause added, “Well, I wouldn’t kill him on purpose anyway.”

“Here,” Shinobu stepped up to the three horrified looking wives and handed Hinatsuru a small paper bag, “I suspect he has a concussion. I have provided all instructions and materials needed to give him proper treatment.”

“Thank you…” the three answered in unison.

Shinobu gave them a short nod of acknowledgment before linking back up with (Y/n). The two strolled off like nothing had happened, smiling and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they disappeared over the hill.

“We need that new bed stat!” Suma said with an exhausted sigh as the trio dragged Tengen into the house.

“I think our dumbass husband needs a personality check more.” Makio grunted.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

I have a request, you could pick which ever <3!! stray kids (idm the member) making a bet on the reader to get with them, stray kids comforting reader thinking they’re cheating but the reader isn’t. I’m

I saw someone else do this and it was so good, but your one of my favorite stray kids writer , but if your not wanting to I totally understand ><

- 🌷

Silly bet

Warning: None

Pairing: Han x reader

Summary: ^^

!kinda proof read!

Thank you for the request love ☺️

Hope you enjoy the story!

-🩷

**

It wasn't like I should have found out but the truth comes out at the end.

today was a long day at work. There was no lie there. Everything was so frustrating. The day started with my co-worker spilling coffee all over my brand new shoes, then losing the earring Han had just got me for our 2 year Anniversary and then lastly falling down and twisting my ankle when I was rushing down the stairs because my ignorant boss thought it would be "funny" to make me run with stacks of papers in my hand trying to see if I can make it for one side to the other. So yeah my day wasn't going great. At all.

"Han?" I call for my boyfriend but I hear no response. The house was quiet. Was he not home yet?

I put my shoes by the rack and limp over to our room to put everything away before I could start on dinner. All the rooms were dark and had no sign of human activity.

I put my bag down and changed into something more comfortable and head back out to the kitchen.

"What should I cook today?" The thought run through my head but after some time I just realized how tired I was so I just decided to order some Chinese. 

I grab my phone to call my boyfriend to see what he would want from the shop,

"Hey baby?" I say into the phone after he picks up after a few rings.

"Hey my love!" He beams. I could hear a few voices behind. The boys must be with him.

"I've had a long day, I don't think I'm going to cook." A sigh leaves my lips as I play with the collar of my...well his hoodie.

"Awe my love, do you want talk about it now or when I get back home?" His voice is laced with worry, I can hear it.

"When you get back home please, but don’t worry it’s not that bad," I explain to him knowing Han he would literally leave work at that moment just to come home.

"Okay…rehearsals are almost done anyways so I'll see you in like and hour yeah?"

"Okay but I'm ordering Chinese. What do you want? Should I get the usual?"

"Yeah let's do the usual yeah," I hear some laughter and a few screams which cause me to chuckle. “All of you shut up!”

"Okay I'll see you in a bit,"

"I love you,"

"I love you too baby doll,"

A small smile plays on my lips as I wait for him to hung up.

"Who was that?" I hear through the phone. My curiosity took the best of me. Plus he hadn't hanged up yet so I technically wasn't breaking boundaries?

"Just Y/n, she's had a long day at work," Han softly says and rummages through something probably in the studio. "I'm worried about her, she's been so stressed lately,"

"Dude I can't believe you’re actually in a 2 year relationship, remember how this all started?" The other voice says, it was hard to tell who is was.

"Chan, I still haven't told her about it and I don't think I ever will, it'll just ruin things," Han replies to him. What will ruin things? And what hasn't he told me yet?

Was he cheating? Is he doing something behind my back?

"I'm just saying Han, she was a stupid bet I don't think she'll really care if you tell her sooner rather than later. Plus your in LOVE for crying out loud. You guys have been together for 2 years! I don't think she'll care about a stupid bet,"

My body freezes as I listened in on the conversation even more. I was a bet? A bet? What the hell? I knew Han was out of my league when we first started to get to know eachother but I thought maybe he liked girls like me….i was wrong the whole time? I was just a bet?

"I know I know but it still feels wrong and she's been so stressed lately so no I don't think I'll ever tell her,"

I remain silent as a screeching sound runs through my ear. A bet? I was a bet….

I had no words literally and the constant voices were running through my head in all directions. Heartbroken was in understatement.

Nausea hits me really hard as the thought of my 2 year relationship was being based on a bet. 

"Anyways what time is it anyway, I need to get home to the wifey,"

The phone goes quiet until I hear Han's panicked voice. Probably realizing I was still on the phone.

"Y/n? You're still there?"

I small 'fuck' in the background made my Chan and whispers start to echo through the room.

"Y/n baby? Did you hear any of that?" He asks again. Panic was very visible in his voice. His breathing getting heavy.

"I was a bet?" Is the only thing I could say and ask. Nothing else could come out. My brain couldn’t scrape anything at all.

"No- I mean- baby- let me explain-" I hung up the phone and drop it to the ground. Everything was a lie.

My heart was aching with pain and the room seemed to become very very shaky.

A heavy breath leaves my mouth before a sob escapes. The vibrations make my body shake and the ground feeling like it was swallowing me.

The floor was cold and the room felt hot. The clothes in my bidy were slowly suffocaying me. i didnt know what to think or what to do.

My phone vibrates over and over. The picture of me and Han popping up with each ring. The feeling of throwing up coming now and again as I clutched my body trying to make sense of everything.

How could a person affect you so much Y/n? Han knew how much I loved him he knew how much I cared for him, if he really did love me why didn’t he just tell me? Why didn’t he just explain it to me?

My stomach started to hurt due to how hard I was crying. As each sob left my mouth a shiver went down my spine.

“Baby?!” A voice causes my neck to snap towards the direction of the door. The love of myself stood before me as he quickly shut the door and put his shoes away.

“Han?” My sore throat is able to make a sound but my voice is hoarse and breaking.

“Babe, don’t cry my love please?” He takes a few steps before he is right infront of me. His hands reach out but my body dodges his touch.

“How could you?” Was all I could say through sobs. “I thought you loved me..”

“I do love you mama, I really do. I just- we were just young and stupid. Please let me hold you. Please let me carry you onto the couch. You’re gonna get a cold.” His eyes are soft. His lips were plump and worry was painted all over his face. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweatpants with a beanie on his head.

I nod my head slowly and his hands work quickly . He pulls me into his embrace. His scent filling my nostrils.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks. I nod in response. It’s all I could do.

We were sat on the couch now. My knees were against my chest as I watched him move back and forth around the house before sitting down beside’s me.

“Can I please explain now?” He asks, “I hate seeing you like this my love. Look at me please?” I refuse to look at him. I was afraid that I would fold, I wouldn’t be strong.

He lets out a sigh before beginning, “Y/n the bet was stupid. The bet was almost 3 years ago my love you have to believe me when I say it only last a month before I noticed I was actually in love with you. I told the boys that I didn’t want the money and that I had fallen for you. They told me it was okay and that we would never have to speak about it again but guilt was eating me alive-“

“Then why did you just tell me?” I look at him looking for answers.

“I- I was so scared of losing you…” he pauses and takes a deep breath in before wiping the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes, “ You are my first love, my first everything, I didn’t want to lose you because of some stupid mistake,”

“Oh…but what about the trust? Has everything been a lie?”

“No no no no, you have to believe me there Y/n. That’s the only thing I haven’t told you. I swear, you know everything about me, more than the boys do-“

“Oh…” a silence falls upon us as I play with the promise ring he had given me when we had gone on vacation to Greece. He had gotten down on one knee when we were on the beach and I started to freak out thinking that he was going to propose but it was a relief when I heard his question. Don’t get me wrong I will marry him one day I just thought we were still too young to get married plus he has his career still building up. It was just horrible timing.

“It hurts, you know?” I break the silence.

“I know my love, please let me make it up to you? Don’t give up on me please. I was stupid and young and my action has no excuse but please forgive me. I love you with everything in me.”

A little sigh leaves my lips as I study his face. His hand was on my lap. The silence fell upon us again. The panic attack that had happened a few minutes ago had now died down.

“I- I forgive you Han but I don’t know maybe it’ll take time to fully forgive you for lying to me,”

“That’s totally okay my love,” a small smile plays on his lips, “I’ll wait for you but just know I really do love you okay? And your my everything,”

“I love you too Han, so much it hurts.”

**

[ambersweets134]

Omg I'm posting a short story for the first time

I wrote it around 4 in the morning so it might be a bit bad but oh well

Comfort in your arms

Perekoo fanfic

*some spoilers*

~~~~~~

Alma had just got back to the building where her wards and her were supposed to be settled it, Isabel having fixed them space to stay there. She tried not to think much of Jacob or her children, knowing that wherever they were, she hoped they were alright.

Alma was already late to the meeting she was supposed to host, her mind too stuck on so many situations and issues that could occur with her wards loose in America. For birds sake, there was already warnings of a war possibly occurring.

Her cane echoed in the dark hallway of the building, her limp seeming worse today than the past few weeks. The older woman felt her heart racing, too much on her mind. Despite being asleep for so long that morning, she still felt so incredibly tired and she felt guilty for being so. Her wards were lost- possibly even trapped somewhere- and here she was feeling tired.

With a huff, she leaned against the wall, leaning down and slowly sitting down on the floor of the dark office. A dull pain in her ankle began and spread up her leg, the ymbryne feeling even worse about herself when she felt tears return to her eyes. She's been trying so so hard to keep her wards safe. Jacob was there and with him being Abe's grandson, she needed his help, but like this? The last thing she wanted was them to be running birds knows where and that's exactly what they did. During a possible war. In America.The press was awful with questioning them all, on top of that there were still people who could cause them harm and it drove Miss Peregrine insane that she wasn't there to stop them. To protect them. She failed her main duty as a ymbryne: to keep her children safe. Now they were gone. She didn't know whether they would return or not. All because she slept longer than she should have.

"Alma?"

The woman snapped out of her thoughts and finally felt the tears that ran down her cheeks freely. It didn't take her long to recognize the owner of the voice, immediately seeing the silver glint of their hair and she felt some relief it wasn't a different person.

Isabel walked over, slowly kneeling down and looked over her, the younger ymbryne looking down at the floor to hide her tears. The older woman didn't need to ask her what was wrong, she already knew well what it was. She noticed how stressed and on edge she was during that whole meeting and just seeing her now she realized how tired she was.

"Fay, you can talk to me." Isabel says, her gaze gentle and loving, gently wiping away her tears and Alma just shook her head, annoyed with herself for acting this way. "I'm not one to judge, you know that." She mentions and the younger woman nodded with a small sniffle.

"I know it's been stressful, I truly do. There's no denying that there is a potential war happening and your wards haven't been heard from yet, but I can assure you Jacob will keep them all safe." The cuckoo says, her tone firm but understanding. "After all, Abe was his grandfather." She adds, managing a small smile which Alma tried returning, but she couldn't. Instead she looked back down at the floor, Isabel feeling her jaw clench against her hand that was still resting against her cheek.

"It's alright, Alma." Isabel says. The younger woman didn't even mind when she brought her close in her arms, needing the contact as she felt her heart racing so incredibly fast.

"I can't believe I slept in, I shouldn't have, I didn't need to. I've been staying up perfectly fine and then suddenly, the day I somehow sleep, this all happened." Alma says, annoyed with herself and it clearly showed in her voice. "I'd go after them if I could, if it wasn't for my stupid cane!" She snaps, her talons digging into the older ymbrynes sleeves for a moment as she shoved the buried anger down even further. "I don't even know where I would start." She whispers.

"As sad as it is, you wouldn't be able to leave the council to find them, Alma. I know that's upsetting, I truly understand, but there's nothing we can do." Isabel says quietly, gently running her talons over her back. "The only thing we can do is wait for their return. Jacob may be hot headed at times and short tempered, but that boy has his grandfather's instincts. Whether he knows it or not." The ymbryne assures, Alma feeling slightly better. "And please don't talk yourself down like you do. It upsets me more than it does to you." She says softly, the younger woman leaning further against her as she felt her heart slow.

"I'm sorry, Izzy." Alma says softly against the woman's suit, her arms wrapped around her waist as she leaned against her, her cane long forgotten in the corner of the room.

"It's alright, Fay." Isabel replies, tightening her hold on the woman.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 70: A Cursed Day

The Story of a Family

While Luigi was still coming to terms with sharing captaincy of the e-sports team, the universe gave him a bunch of new things to worry about!

He jolted awake early one morning drenched in sweat, with a lingering sense of terror fresh in his brain. Rising to grab a glass of water he noticed a strange book on the floor that hadn’t been there when he went to bed the night before.

Luigi was no mage, but he’d grown up around enough of them to know that this book was trouble. Picking it up he attempted to tear it in half, and when that didn’t work, he slammed it to the ground and stomped on it several times until it finally flew apart, disintegrating as if it had never existed.

Luigi was congratulating himself on a job well done when an awful headache struck out of nowhere. It came on faster than his usual anemia headaches, and he didn’t recall missing any iron supplements. With a sigh he popped a couple pain killers and settled down at his PC to do some work.

No sooner had he logged into his account than his laptop started to smoke, the ominous “blue screen of death” replacing his icons. It seemed nothing was going to be easy this morning! As he began repairs, he reflected that at least handiwork always reminded him of good times spent with Papa Jack.

Luigi was just finishing up when Noemi called to remind him that he’d promised to come to her gym that morning to play some basketball.

His head was still aching, but the meds were helping, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as before. Not wanting to disappoint his friend he told her he’d be right there, spinning into his athletic wear and heading out the door. Arriving in record time his stomach chose that moment to demand the breakfast that he’d skipped in his haste to arrive.

Noemi was happy to make a pit stop at the snack bar. Settling down to dig in, the soft fruit and yogurt parfait he’d grabbed somehow managed to cause a sharp stabbing pain in his mouth! Luigi groaned, answering his friends worried look with a quick recap of his fantastically terrible day so far.

She was sympathetic but encouraged him to power through it. A fitness loving sim like Luigi, Noemi found exercise to be a great natural pain reliever.

Heading upstairs to the basketball court they started with some quick free throws. Once warm and limber, Noemi upped the stakes by wagering 5 simoleons on a slam dunk contest.

Luigi went first, launching himself up in the air to attempt a one-handed dunk. He missed, the ball rebounding off the rim, his landing trajectory a chaotic tumbling mess. He tried to laugh it off and spring back to his feet like that guy at the bowling alley after prom… what was his name again?…

He only got as far as putting his full weight on his right leg when a red-hot spike of pain shot through his ankle. His jaw clenched involuntarily in surprise, which only caused a different stabbing pain to radiate outwards from the tooth that had started bothering him during their meal.

Luigi’s laugh turned into a curse as he used his arms to push himself to his feet and limped towards a nearby bench, Noemi following behind.

His ankle didn’t feel great, but it didn’t look terribly swollen. Rising he said “its not so bad. I’m sure I can finish the game if I’m careful”. That idea got Noemi’s pragmatic and immediate veto. “Sit your butt back down. Playing on an injury is an idiotic move that just takes you out of the game longer.”

Luigi sighed as he obeyed, joking that now she sounded like Professor Silva! Apologizing for ruining their fun he agreed she had a point. He was sure his injury wasn’t serious but regardless he should probably be done with basketball for the time being!

First a headache, then a toothache, and now his ankle… what was wrong with the universe today!?

Noemi pulled him close, telling him “don’t worry about it. Basketball isn’t the only way we can have fun here. In fact, since exercise is out as a means of pain relief, I might just have an alternative that’s sure to make you forget all your aches for awhile...” 

Luigi liked the sound of that, returning her smile before slowly following her over to one of the saunas lined up near the food stand. For the next little while he did indeed forget his troubles as they basked in the super-heated air and each other's touch.

Luigi had enjoyed their hot and steamy adventure but when they were finished, he was ready to head home and get off his feet.

He kissed Noemi goodbye, thanking her for “making this bad day a whole lot better”. She replied “it was my pleasure. I will, however, expect that 5 simoleons in the mail soon – screwing up your dunk so bad you had to forfeit the game counts as a loss if ever there was one!”

I was honestly impressed with how cursed this day was for Luigi. A lot of what I ended up using in the episode came from mods or other in-game events, but I was impressed with the “vanilla” things that went wrong in game considering the team only had For Rent and Basegame to work with.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[monkeytrick]

ausjswoidwi0xei2w93294232

Ok like. Executive dysfunction. And trauma response. Are both phrases that might earn an eye roll from you and I get it. But I feel like one is the other for me and they’re both just causing a horrible loop that is making my life worse constsntly man. It really hit me today that like. Oh my god I am traumatized. I regularly will have flashbacks and either go totally limp and try to ignore everything happening and play dead or I’ll freak the fuck out and start screaming and sobbing and shit and I feel like this entire past month I’ve just been constantly going back and forth between both without any time dedicated t being a normal person which makes me feel so awful and insane because I’ve had like actual fun shit to do this month but I’ve been breaking down so fucking bad bc I literally don’t think I have the capability to live like a normal adult person is supposed to and I don’t have a choice at all because I don’t think I can ever be in contact with my family again. My dad is a domestic abuser and a methhead and an attempted rapist and I’m so scared he’s done more than attempt it since I last saw him. MULTIPLE times he just showed up st my workplace which is across the country from where he actually fucking lives without warning and when he went to jail it was in this state and not his home one. I still don’t know what the fuck he did because I only heard about it from my brother and I can’t fucking talk to anyone else in my family because I’m afraid of them all! My mom is actively without exaggeration trying to ruin my fucking life as revenge against me not talking to her because she was already doing this shit before I cut contact and will steal my money and try and track me down and threaten suicide over my continued existence. I don’t have anyone I can go to in real life about any of this shit and even the people who understand can’t help me at all. I’ve been trying to move in with my friend and after recovering from the extended mental breakdown I’ve been having all month I’m realizing I literally like. Do not have the shit I need to do that. And I don’t know if I ever will because of my family situation. I don’t know how to break it to them and I don’t know what the fuck to do because I don’t think I have an option that isn’t fucking them over extremely badly and it’s entirely my own fucking fault man bc I’ve just been trying to ignore my life so bad. I feel so bad about my current living situation bc my friend and their family were kind enough to let me stay and were really understanding initially but they all just really fucking want me gone by now which is like. Understandable. And the reasonable way to respond. But I’m so scared because I need to be out of here by the end of june and I think my best option is subletting on my own but I feel more certain and terrified every day that I’m just going to be homeless and fired from the job I currently have before I’m 21. I don’t even want to be someone that wants to kms anymore but I feel like god is like literally actually punishing me for existing and I can’t bring myself to deal with living at all. I’m not going to kill myself now and I have stupid reasons to continue being alive but they are reasons but I feel like the only way to stay set on that path and not change my mind and go insane and fucking die is if I get in a psych ward right the fuck now and trying to review my options there is making me even more miserable bc I don’t think I’m even on health insurance anymore and I don’t think I’d be able to get on it in time to not go insane and be a danger to myself. No matter what I am going to be in horrific debt. I just don’t know what to fucking do man. I haven’t looked at any of my texts in like 3 days because I am so fucking scared. I no wanna be around anymore. I cannot bring myself to do fucking snything

[dozenssporks]

*the camera is tilted upward to show vash clinging to a redwood tree very very far from the ground*

wolfwood: how's it working out for you up there my guy

vash, whining: don't be meeean that was a very big mosquito and I have a very strong startle reflex. if it had been a real threat I'd be up here laughing and you'd be down there being eaten, so there

wolfwood: yuh huh, sure, spiky, sure. Comin' down now or do you want to hug that tree a little longer?

vash: gimme a sec--yeep!

*the camera blurs as wolfwood struggles to track vash's rapid descent from the tree but there is only a streak of red, the sound of vash yelping, and, finally, a crash*

wolfwood: holy mother--are you alive?!

*the camera focuses and vash, draped over a pile of moss covered logs, gives a feeble thumbs up. a moment later a large piece of bark falls and smacks him on the head*

vash, whimpering: I want to go home, maman, s'il vous plaît

*the scene cuts to vash standing at the base of the tree looking scuffed up and rumpled, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose*

vash: ahem! I was recently informed that people leave comments on these videos, which surprised me. I thought it was mostly the cops and, like, fbi who looked at these.

wolfwood: people always have somethin' to say about witnessing a walking disaster

vash, making an angry face: ANYWAY. This was brought to my attention by--well, naming no names, I can tell you she's a real stunner. Knock you right off your feet if given the chance. This lovely lady, too good for this sinful world, has kindly compiled what she believes to be the best comments and questions. Here we go.

wolfwood: please, dear viewers, understand that this creature before you can be explained neither scientifically or religiously. Don't expect to experience clarity today.

vash:, holding up a paper with the questions written on it it's called mystique. First question: "Mr. The Stampede, why is the guy behind the camera called--"

*breaking off, vash presses his fist to his mouth and makes high-pitched noises that nearly pass beyond human hearing*

wolfwood: I've got a bad feeling about this

vash: "why is--why is the guy behind the camera called . . . 'woof woof'?"

*sitting down on the ground, vash bursts into obnoxious laughter, pounding his fist on the ground. the camera tilts and shakes*

wolfwood, sputtering: that's not--that's not what I'm called! Mary, mother of Christ, that is not--

*the scene cuts. vash is back on his feet, facial expression strained as he struggles to remain solemn*

vash: I have been instructed to clarify that my assistant behind the camera is not named 'woof woof', has never been called 'woof woof', and never will be called 'woof woof'.

wolfwood: it's because you keep starting to say my name and stammering when you cut yourself off. This is your fault, needle-noggin, and I'm gonna take it out of your hide later, I swear.

vash, coughing: there's a second part of this question, um, "is he called that because he's a furry?"

*vash collapses to the ground again, shrieking with laughter*

wolfwood: a what

vash: a furry is a--it's a--

wolfwood: I know what a furry is!

vash: from--from personal experience?

wolfwood: no!

*vash rolls around laughing, kicking his legs. the camera jolts up and down while wolfwood marches over and snatches up the list of questions*

wolfwood: aw, geez, they really asked that, you didn't make it up. I can't believe the big girl did this to me--would you shut up?!

vash, shrieking from pain this time: don't kick the messenger when he's down, woof woof!

wolfwood: no, no, no, no. this is not going to be a thing. I will end you, I will shoot you right through your spiky head, I will--

*the scene cuts to vash laying face-down on the forest floor, limp and lifeless. cigarette smoke is puffing from behind the camera and wolfwood's hand can be seen gesturing*

wolfwood: the person who asked that question, I don't know who you are, I don't know what you want. If you are looking for blackmail money, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career, skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. I will find you, and I will kill you. Buh-by.

*video ends*

[dausy]

Well, I was anticipating a Vet visit this upcoming weekend because I needed to follow up for my dogs weird UTI. She had something funky in her bladder and I'm brain-googling the worst but the vet insisted its just a really bad uti this last time. This last round of antibiotics were killer. She didn't like the taste of it and it gave it her really bad diarrhea. Because she was having diarrhea, I didn't want to take her to the groomers. She was starting to look scraggly and I'm having to wipe her butt everyday.

The weather was really nice the other day and she threw her ball at me to play, so we went outside and on throw number 3 she snapped her dew claw half off. Started bleeding everywhere. Dog thought she was going to be limp forever. It was really sad, so I took her back to the vet to get it removed and follow up with her UTI.

Her bladder and urine apparently looked really good. Got another round of antibiotics though because of the toe.

now she looks even more scraggly because I tried to clean her paw as best I could but she doesnt want me touching it. So she has an ungroomed body, bloody foot and diarrhea butt. /sigh.

The moment she has normal poops she's going in for a professional bath. I'm like profusely apologizing to my dog walker that I'm not a lazy pet owner (I mean I'm sorta lazy).

otherwise I have no plans for this weekend other than grocery shopping. Pray for my work day today, I feel it may be awful.

[deedee-the-first]

Sick and in love

After her usual patrol with Chatnoir, Ladybug was swinging across the roofs of Paris when she reached her balcony, she detransformed, tired, she hit her ankle hard and fell to the floor. She tried to stand back up but couldn't she resolved to just sit on the floor.

. "Atchoo", Marinette sneezed.

After Marinette fed Tikki,.

"Marinette are you ok", Tikki asked. "yeah just a little atchhoo cold"."Marinette its freezing out here let go in". Tikki asked, trying to find warmth.

"I would if I could. I can't feel my ankle. It hurts really bad". "You have to get into bed or try and limp to your bed while I get your pyjamas".

After she had changed into cute bunny pyjamas, she climbed into bed. "Goodnight, Tikki, what would I do without you?", Marinette said.

Tikki cooed and said " Goodnight Marinette". "Atchoo".Marinette sneezed again. And fell asleep.

The next morning, Marinette couldn't get out of bed,. "Mommy" she yelled. She only called her mother 'mommy' when she was sick. Sabine was surprised, ran upstairs to check on Marinette.

"Marinette you look awful. Let me check your temperature" She rushed for the thermometer and ran back. She checked her temperature

"oh my God you have a high fever", Sabine said. "Mom *atchoo* don't even think about it *sniffs*you've planned this trip for months and*atchoo* it is not a pleasure trip. You have to get that award because you deserve it*atchoo* and I would be the worst daughter *atchoo* to keep you here" Marinette was stopped as her mother gave her a box of tissues.

"we will go on this trip but we will call you every hour to check up on you and I will call Mr. Damocles and tell him you are not going to school today and I'll make soup for you" Sabine answered.

Meanwhile, at school, Mr. Damocles enters Marinette's class. Everyone says "Good morning Mr. Damocles" Alya whispers to Nino, "Marinette's gonna be big trouble " "I know that dudette is super late", Niño answers. Mr. Damocles says,

"Good morning class, Unfortunately Marinette is sick and cannot come to school "

Adrien's thoughts " What? Why? When? I have to go to pay her a visit after class. That is"

That news made everyone sad.

Everyone was just waiting for class to be over so they could each send her messages.

Back at Marinette's she was really sick. She had slept all morning, but she wasn't feeling any better. By this time, her mom and dad had already gone on their trip and called 3 times before.

" Tikki my head hurts, my nose is running, I keep sneezing *atchoo*, and I'm hotter than the sun. What should I do?", Marinette said

"Well you go to those things called doctors", Tikki said.

"Out of the question, Tikki and they are people, not things", Marinette said with a little fear in her eyes.

" I know you better than anyone. The only thing you are afraid of is talking to Adrien, so why do you have fear in your eyes"?

"First I was nervous and not afraid and second, my heart belongs to my boyfriend now, so I'm no longer nervous when talking to him and third, I'm not afraid of anything", she said with a face that was like I'm not hiding anything, stop trying to find out.

"I want an explanation. Why don't you want to go to the doctors"? Tikki asked, disappointed that Marinette had hidden something from her

" firstofallIcantwalkandsecondifIgohemightsayIneedashotandI'mafraidofshots- so good to get that off my chest"

" Marinette, you know when you talk like that i can't understand you. Please say that again", Tikki said.

" first of all, I can't walk and second, if I go, he might say I need a shot and I'm afraid of shots". Please don't laugh", Marinette repeated.

" What are shots?" Tikki asked. " They are needles that contain medicine that they put in a sick person's body", Marinette said, "Why would they do that, isn't that painful? I would be scared if I were you, don't worry, I won't force you to go".

Back at school, every 2 seconds, Adrien checked his watch. He wished school would finish now and wondered how the princess was. The bell rung and he was about to fly out the door when Alya said,

" Everyone Marinette called and said she's contagious, so I thought that we should send her video messages ok"

Immediately after everyone had sent the messages, Adrien went home.

"Didn't you hear that she's contagious", Plagg said. "I don't care, I need to see my princess" Adrien. "Claws out" He ran over the roof tops until he reached Marinette's balcony. He ran through her window and saw her in her bed. He transformed.

" What happened to you? I heard you were sick. Why don't you ever take care of your self". Adrien said

"You and I both know *atchoo* I take care of myself. Kitty is just a *atchoo* little cold", Marinette replied,

" If it is just a little cold, why is your face so red? It is obvious that you have a fever. If it is the flu, I have to take you to the hospital".

"My doctor came over*atchooooo* already I'm ok Adrien really" she lied. She didn't want to tell him she didn't want a shot.

"You know very well that I can tell when you are lying to get up and go have a bath. You are coming to the hospital with me whether you like or not. Now stop being lazy", Adrien demanded.

Marinette thought 'why does he have to know me so well'. " *atchoo* I'm contagious and it is better you leave, I don't want you getting sick *atchoo*" Marinette said.

"Enough of that nonsense. I'm not leaving, get ready. I'm taking you to the hospital, " Adrien said, not having it anymore.

"Well I injured my ankle after a patrol last night", Mari replied

" let me see gosh it is really bad". It is blue. Your ankle might be broken Mari. We have to get you to the hospital". Adrien said.

He goes in and out of the bathroom, setting it up for her to bathe comfortably.

" I'll carry you to the bathroom. There is a chair in there and you can use that. Then I'll pick out your outfit". She just didn't want to go to the hospital. Now, going for two things. Could this day get any worse?

She pondered these facts, and she said " I done" he passed her a towel and a grey sweat pants with a white sleeveless shirt with a gray jacket. She wore it and she limped out of the bathroom.

Adrien rushed and carried her and looked at her disapprovingly, " Why didn't you call me to carry you out? I don't want you to stress your ankle while you hurt".

Adrien said he was not able to stay angry with his princess.

He braided her hair and took her to the hospital in a cab.

Marinette was completely against this idea. When they reach a hospital, "Please Adrien I don't want to be here. Don Don't make me please *atchooo*" Marinette whined.

" I'm sorry Princess but i cannot allow you to stay in pain", Adrien replied.

"I can handle the pain or Tikki can cure it. Please don't make me go in there", Mari said.

"Mari please, " Adrien persisted and carried her in.

In the waiting room after Adrien signed up.

She looked at Mari. She was really upset. Then, her name was called.

They went into the doctor's office. Immediately, she saw who it was. She was terrified, which was her childhood doctor.

"Ah Marinette, what's wrong with you don't look too good?", Dr. Elena. Scared to death, Marinette managed to say, "I'm sick*atchoo*".

Dr. Elena giggled and said, " I can see that you are still afraid of doctors".

Marinette thoughts *breathe in breathe out* she speaks a little bit less scared" No I'm not and Well I have a fever, I can't stop sneezing *atchoo*, my nose is stuffy and I 'm pretty sure I have the flu". Adrien said, "It wasn't that hard was it?" "shut it" she snapped, angry that he brought her there to start with. "Ok so according to your symptoms, you might have the flu, so I'll give you a check up and then if you do flu shots" Dr. Elena said.

"What" Marinette exclaimed, limping for the door, but was stopped by Adrien. She pushed past him and bolted for the door.

Adrien ran after, Mari suppressed the pain in her ankle, trying to get away as fast as she could, but Adrien was right behind her. She reached the parking lot and hid behind a car. She slowed her breathing with the adrenaline rush gone her ankle was throbbing, which hurt so much. Adrien passed by where she was hiding and his sharp ears heard her breathing.

He quietly made his way to her and held her still. Mari started thrashing around, begging, screaming, crying for him to let her go. Then he hugged her, and took her inside while cradling her. Once they were back in Dr. Elena's office.

"Mari what's wrong." He said he was really worried. Right then she felt the urge to puke. She looked at Dr. Elena, who pointed to the bathroom door. She limped in and after she had finished, and she said to tikki "what am I going to do? Adrien is going to make me take the shot. What should I do"?

Adrien was waiting for her outside. "Marinette are you okay in there? I'm coming in" Marinette said "no don't I'm coming out" she said to Tikki, wish me luck.

"Marinette your ladybug you can do anything".

" Ok I don't want to make a fool of myself".

She goes out and sees a worried look on Adrien's face when she said, "Its not about me having to take a shot or more. What hurts me is that I didn't want to come here, but you still made me. I knew this would happen. I just knew it". Adrien started to chuckle then he was now laughing hysterically.

Marinette was now furious, "what's funny fact, forget it. I'm gonna go get my shots", she said, turning away. He held her arm.

"Wait for all this because you were afraid of a shot, why didn't you tell me " he laughed again.

"What kind of boyfriend are you? Instead of comforting me, you laughing and making me go through my fear" she said, really frustrated, and caving in.

" You know I'm the best boyfriend ever because I would rather see you get a shot than suffer from the flu *atchoo* oh no it's like I'm catching the *atchoo* flu. " He said/sneezed. "Haha now I am not the only one getting a shot today", Marinette countered.

The finally settled down, in front of Dr. Elena. Dr. Elena asked them many questions. When she came to this question, she looked at Marinette

"Why were you limping? ". Chat decided to answer her " Well, Marinette told me she hit her ankle on her balcony earlier"

Dr. Elena let me take a look.

She was about to lift Marinette's ankle. She touched it and Marinette shrieked "Ow please don't" "But i have to take a look" Dr. Elena told her. Chat held her hand, she took a deep breathe and said, " Please be gentle".

Dr. Elena lifted Marinette's leg gently and said, "oh dear, it seems to be broken"

"It didn't look like that at her house. She *atchoo* probably stressed it when she ran off, Doc watcha*atchoo* gonna do about it", Chat said, trying to lighten the mood which obviously did not work.

Dr. Elena looked at the Adrien worriedly and said, " Can we speak outside" "Yes *atchoo* doc".

When they were outside, "So you *atchoo* say her ankle is broken*atchoo* and shifted", Adrien said.

"Yes so i have to rearrange it like shifting it to the proper position. It seems that you are catching the flu too". Dr. Elena said,.

"In that * atchhooo* case, you have to do it while she's not aware”, Adrien said

Dr. Elena said'', I have noticed that she is very uncomfortable here ''

*phone ring*

Alya :Hi Adrien

Adrien : alya I'm at the hospital right now

Alya :ok

Adrien :Actually I brought Marinette here. She was really sick".

Alya: Did you say Marinette because she hates going to the doctors? She must be scared to death I'm coming.

Adrien : Yh because it is only you that can handle her

Alya: Bye

"So while you were on the phone, I prepared Marinette for the procedure but she's still on edge"

Dr. Elena said, " you and Marinette are both going to receive flu shots when her friend gets here"

Alya arrived, and Mari thought I could still make a run for it.

Alya looked at her and said in a no-nonsense voice, " Don't even think about it. "

Adrien was frustrated, "Mari stop *atchoo* acting like a child and get ready for your *atchoo* shot".

"No you are going first'', Mari said, trying to stall.

"Ok fine princess*atchoo* if i get mine you promise *atchoo* you'll get yours" he said so calmly but on the inside he was panicking, but then he said in his mind "I'm doing this for my princess".

" I can't promise you anything", Marinette scoffed. He did as he was told and he got himself ready and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve.

Immediately, the needle impacted his skin, he whimpered, which made Marinette really scared and everyone could see that. She closed her eyes, too afraid to open them.

Adrien touched her hand and she opened her eyes with tears and said " I can't do this" she stood up forgetting about her ankle and fell into his arms. They gazed into each other's eyes passionately.

"Marinette you are stronger than you think", Adrien said, putting her back in the bed. Dr. Elena, tired of all this drama, said "Marinette I never knew you to be such a drama queen. Just because of this little shot, you're almost hyperventilating. Gosh kids" she said, holding up her syringe that was ready for her 15 minutes ago and is 2 times bigger than Chat.

Marinette, more terrified than before, Adrien said, "Why is it bigger than what I took"?

"Well yours was just a vaccine. Hers is a cure, please shift aside I have things to do", Dr. Elena said, fed up with this rubbish. "Marinette please just do what she says, "Alya said

He said, " Marinette, please take off your jacket", Adrien said, giving her a sympathetic look.

She took off her jacket and accepted her fate. Closing her eyes, she held Adrien's hand.

She felt sharp pain, as the needle entered her arm. She covered her hand with her mouth and, for fear of screaming, a tear ran down her which Adrien immediately wiped away.

"Not that bad was it? " Adrien asked Marinette when she was done with the shot. " What are you talking about? It was worse than I thought-" and she fell asleep.

" I loved my princess but she was really a pain in the neck today", Adrien said.

"So you finally gave her anesthetic, please go over and give her the flu shot and straighten her ankle. Today has been a long day", Adrien said, disappointed that this was the only way to.

"I never knew Marinette could be so dramatic, " Adrien said

"This time she got a shot in and even saw a doctor. She couldn't have handled it in a normal case. I think she's very brave even I stalled when I've got to take a shot and Marinette just stalled her shot from the afternoon to the evening", Alya said, defending her best friend.

The next morning, Marinette woke and saw Adrien beside her, she jokingly pushed him off her bed and sat up.

After an 'oh so hard' push, Adrien woke up with shock on his face. Marinette recalled the events of yesterday.

"Mari I can explain ok, Mari reason I can't just leave you in this condition", Adrien said, trying to pacify Mari.

Marinette looked down and saw her ankle in a cast "Spill what happened yesterday.

Adrien jumped, "Well instead of a flu shot, Dr. Elena gave you an anesthetic because she also needed to straighten out your ankle without you in pain or scream" he gave her an apologetic smile.

She stood up to check her ankle on the ground but was stopped by Adrien. "How am I going to get around if I can't even stand"? She said.

"Alya thought ahead and brought you this", Adrien said, holding bluebell crutches that matched her eyes.

"Thank you", Marinette said. "for everything”.

He leaned in, and Mari mimicked him until their lips met in the middle. Then Marinette giggled'

[janzoo]

A Nameday Gift for the WoL's Little Sister

I don't do enough with Lakelta, Drakyr's younger sister, especially since I decided I would ship her with Magnai since he appeared during the Starlight Celebration this year. What better day to give her more spotlight than today, her nameday, a.k.a. Halfoween (since I made Halloween Drakyr's nameday). Gposes and lore under the readmore~

First, some info on Lakelta/the Saovine tribe -

The Saovine tribe travelled to Eorzea when Lakelta was a toddler. She was always curious about this faraway homeland of her people - more so than Drakyr. Lakelta often asked the elders who remembered the Steppe about it, and grew up dreaming of visiting it one day.

While Lakelta was also skilled with archery, she had more of a mind for numbers and organization, and became more of a behind the scenes contributor to the tribe's performance/tournament. She is also skilled with conjury. Between those skillsets, she made a living in Gridania as a conjurer, and as an accountant for Fen-Yll Fineries (Leatherworking Guild).

(Tentative) At a young age, the tribe was attacked by wolves/wild dogs. One of them got hold of Lakelta and savaged her calf to the point that she had to walk with a cane going forward. She's terrified of canines; Drakyr is especially wary of them (and feels bad that she couldn't stop the wolves from hurting Lakelta even though it wasn't her fault). Drakyr's Starlight gift to her was a special magitek prosthetic harness of sorts that stabilized her leg so she could walk without a cane, albeit with a limp.

Lakelta and Magnai met after she received the aforementioned harness. She was dancing outside in celebration when she lost balance and fell back - right into Magnai's arms. The clouds parted briefly, a moonbeam shone on them as gentle snow fluttered through the air - the whole nine yards yalms. A true to life meet-cute. Drakyr's jaw hit the ground as she watched.

So the two of them struck a chord, but with Magnai returning to the Steppe, it's become a hell of a long-distance relationship. Luckily, Drakyr agreed to facilitate since she can teleport between Gridania and the Dawn Throne with ease. (Thanks, aetheryte tickets!)

BUT TODAY IS THE DAY! For Lakelta's nameday gift, Drakyr personally took her all the way to the Dawn Throne! (Ok so it takes more than a day to get from Gridania to the Dawn Throne the old-fashioned way but you know what I mean.) Not just to attune to the aetheryte, but to get some one-on-one face time with Magnai AND to make her dream of visiting the Azim Steppe come true!

Drakyr welcomes Lakelta to the Dawn Throne. Here at last! Magnai sent his gift with Drakyr ahead of time: some proper Steppe clothes (in Oronir colours, of course). Thus Lakelta arrives already looking the part.

Meeting up with Magnai. (I probably should've posed a dramatic hug but I didn't - that's on me, not Lakelta.)

Looking out over the Steppe in all its glory - Magnai talking about the Steppe, Lakelta looking on in awe.

And there we have it. Yay more spotlight time for Lakelta! And some romance to boot.

[steeltraptrainer]

Ferro groans when he and Giacomo tumble out of the nook they had crammed into last night. The moon in the sky hasn't moved, so they can't quite gauge how much time passed. Ugh.

"So... Where to? We collected most of the chapel-dwellers to be." Giacomo rolls his neck, affixes his axe to his back. He is stoutly not thinking about yesterday afternoon. That way lies madness.

"... We could find the workshop. Try to find something for Miss Doll. She deserves something nice."

"That is true. She deserves something nice."

---

They forgot about the Bloodstarved Beast. This sucks ass. So much. Ferro rolls out of range, screaming his head off, allowing Giacomo enough time to drive his axe into the beast. It yowls and flails, the limp threads of flesh writhing. They're both drenched in blood and unmentionable fluids. It sucks. But if Ferro is right, they're almost done. He lunges, cane unfurling and segmenting, whirling around the neck of the beast. The segments snag, hit just right. A short burst of speed, leverage against the flailing beast, and with a truly awful squelching noise, it topples. Head separated from the body. Done.

"I need a shower," Ferro groans, before shaking the cane out and transforming it back. "But hey. Road's clear, we didn't need the executioner, and we got a chalice."

"Not bad at all. But can we go, please?" Giacomo eyes the corpse with thin disdain and disgust. "I don't like bloodstarved beasts."

---

"Remind me to not go rock climbing and parkouring, like, ever." Giacomo tries his best not to look down. He really doesn't like this balancing act. The wooden beams leading to the old church workshop look like they are six seconds out from rotting and falling apart underneath him.

"You're a wimp, Momo." Ferro looks far more at home on those beams than he has any right to. "We're almost there anyways. Look. The ledge is down there." He jerks his chin forward. Then he straightens and takes a step forward, letting himself fall the rest of the distance.

"FERRO! STOP GIVING ME HEART ATTACKS!"

"THIS ISN'T AS BAD AS I COULD BE! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

---

It's strange to see this area without the perpetual hazy fog of the dream. To see it desolate and without the half-life the dream gives it. Dirt and rubble, plant life reclaiming it all. The door to the workshop itself is all too easily bypassed, allowing entry to the inside. Dust. So much dust. A few chests, rotten floorboards that creak with every motion. Ferro wanders over to the cabinet, almost dazed as he pulls it open. The hair ornament looks oddly thin and fragile in his hands, and it clearly, clearly, has been cared for greatly. An ornament left to rot. He gingerly sits down on the floor, begins to softly clean it. He doesn't notice Giacomo walk further in, right to the memory altar. Right to the altar housing a thing that should not be used. Should not be consumed. It is dark when he fishes it out, the dark grey of long dead flesh, with oily, eye-like beads on it. If he tilts his head, it's almost like they follow him, gaze at him.

"Not today," he mutters quietly. "Not today, not tomorrow, and never if i have anything to say." He straightens, and flits out of the door, right past the doll leaning against the wall. It's finger is tapping quietly, leisurely, unnoticed. Giacomo looks around, before finding a small patch of earth that doesn't look like it has been reclaimed just yet. One hand is holding the cord, the other shovels the dirt to the side, until there is enough space, enough depth, that it wouldn't be seen immediately. He feels watched. Dark eyes focus on the cord as he buries it under earth, under soil, spreads leaf litter. Not today. Not tomorrow. And never if he has anything to say.

---

Ferro finds Giacomo in front of the unknown Hunter's grave, kneeling and silent.

"You okay?"

"As okay as I can be. We... We can take a bone. Make us harder to hit. But it feels wrong, you know?"

"If I listened to you enough, I have an idea who rests here. And I think she would want us to survive." Ferro's hand rests on Giacomo's shoulder. "But if you want, we can wait here until we wake up again. And then ask."

"... I like that idea more." And that is that. ---

They wander back to the lantern, enter the Dream. They can feel the sliver of awareness wander in, the reassurance that tonight, they will still wake. They give the Doll a small wave as they enter.

"Hello, good hunters. Do you want me to watch over you as you rest?"

"That would be nice, yes. The dream's changing for us. It's nice if someone makes sure we don't get... hurt." Ferro awkwardly rubs his arm.

"Don't you worry. Nothing will happen to you here. Just rest." A small, genial smile.

"You're the best, Miss Doll." Giacomo grins at her, the expression more tired than it has any right to be. They don't sleep anymore. Not truly. They don't need to, not really, not like this, but they feel it. They don't get to ponder on it too much.

T h e y

w a k e

u p

[ootori-sibs]

The Candor of Youth

part 10

tw: torture mention, blood, vomit, dissociation, f slur, internalized ableism, implied abuse

 His brothers were bloody and bruised, although most of the damage was in their legs. It was ironic, and Yoshio knew that Kokomi had engineered that irony on purpose. It didn't stop him from feeling sick, though.

"You did so well, impy, I'm so proud of you." 

He threw up. 

Luckily the floor was stone so it was easy enough to clean. Kokomi insisted on cleaning it, as Yoshio stood there, hands shaking. He hadn't dropped the tree branch the entire time, his knuckles white and his hands full of splinters. He was shaking from head to toe, and couldn't move a muscle, trying to ignore his brother's in the corners of his vision. 

Was this hell? Was Yoshio in hell?

It felt like hell. 

"Impy? Sweet thing? Pet? Are you okay?" 

Kokomi's voice cut through the fog to reach him, and Yoshio swallowed his horror to smile, wiping his mouth and turning to face her. 

"Of course darling, I'm perfectly okay," he lied, dropping the tree branch and trying to focus on the fact his leg was killing him, so he didn't have to think about the boys that caused it. "I am tired, so I think I'll head home, okay?"

"Sure! Just let me wipe the blood off first!" Kokomi responded, chuckling softly. 

The drive home was rather quiet, Yoshio wasn't sure he remembered a second of it. He limped in, he heard the sound of playing but couldn't tell if it was in his head or not, so he ignored it. 

The stairs, as always, were horrible, but there seemed to be more stairs than normal today, if possible. Yoshio didn't know if he passed anyone on the stairs, he wouldn't have noticed anyway. 

He was in his own head now, and everything looked like a reflection of itself, and Yoshio wasn't convinced he existed. He reached his room, questioning whether or not he deserved a space to himself. 

Laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling but not really seeing anything, he zoned in and out for what felt like years but was, in reality, probably only a few minutes. His leg ached but it was so far away from him right now. 

"Yoshi?"

He heard the echo of his name in the back of his mind, what even was a name? What was the point of a name when his beloved won't use it when he needs to hear it most? When he needs to be reminded he's a person, she refers to him as an infernal beast. It feels wrong... but oh so accurate. He didn't know if-

"Yoshi..?"

There it was again, his mind spitting out his name when it couldn't think of anything else to give him. Did he even really deserve a name? Truly? He was a-

"Yoshi, awe you okay..?" 

A hand on his own broke his train of thought, he glanced over, only to see the sweet, innocent expression of his little brother. Akira knew nothing of Yoshio's dilemma, Akira barely knew anything at all. What Akira did know, however, was love- and Yoshio had no idea where he'd learnt it from. 

He sighs, offering his youngest brother a weak smile. "I'm fine, Akira. Don't worry about that." 

Akira frowned, "You'we nevew fine, Yoshi... but okay. You'we lyin' down?"

"I am lying down, that's correct." 

Yoshio blinked in surprise as he felt the bed shift, Akira knelt next to him, shoving him gently, "budge up, Yoshi, I'm gonna lie with you."

Yoshio did as he was told, too surprised to object at all to what was happening. Akira laid down next to him, also staring at the ceiling. For a moment they were both silent, until Akira spoke. "this is dull." 

"Why do you say dull instead of boring?"

"Fatha don't like the lispin'" Akira responded, shrugging. 

"Father doesn't like a lot of things, does he?"

Akira nodded, "he doesn' like fun." 

"He's allergic to it, I think." Yoshio chuckled a little bit, and Akira giggled loudly in response. 

"Yeah! 'lewgic!" He clapped his little hands, sitting up. "You'we funny, Yoshi!"

Yoshio sat up as well, leaning to his right as to not put pressure on his bad leg. "You think so?" He raised his eyebrow, confused as to why Akira would think that. 

"Mhm!" Akira nodded, smilingly brightly, "Can we pway?" 

Shuddering at bit at that, Yoshio paused. "I don't suppose you can play chess..?"

"I'm fouw." 

"Ah, right," Yoshio found himself chuckling at that, his little brother's precense cheering him up immensly. "Well what do you want to play?" 

"Hmm..." Akira hopped off the bed and wandered around, pauding at the grammaphone, reaching his sticky little fingers out to grab it. 

"Don't do that!" Yoshio cried, making Akira pause. Yoshio instantly regretted yelling, and took a breath, shakily getting off the bed as his tone softened. "Please don't touch that, Akira. That means a lot to me, okay?" 

Akira blinked at him, "oh, okay!" He smiled brightly, seemingly unphased by Yoshio yelling- perhaps Yoshio just wasn't that scary? "Maybe we can watch tv?" 

Yoshio nodded, "sure, lets go and watch some tv." 

Letting Akira lead him to one of the lounges felt a lot more natural than anything that had happened that day. Yoshio managed to get Akira's favourate vhs tape in, and when he sat on the sofa, Akira sat right next to him, hugging his arm. 

Akira and Yoshio didn't really spent that much time together, but Yoshio was fairly sure Akira was one of the few brothers that didn't hate him, which was nice. Akira was only four, though, and Yoshio was pretty sure kids that age couldn't hate yet. 

Either way, Akira spent the evening pointing out details and characters in the show. Although Yoshio thought the show was just some vapid childrens program, he found himself enjoying his brother's enjoyment and perspective on the show. There appeared to be some sort of plot that Akira seemed to understand, although the bright colours and chaotic nature of the show made it hard for Yoshio to follow. 

Unfortunetly, it wasn't long before it was Akira's bedtime, and Yoshio was left alone. He was tired anyway, so he decided to head to bed as well. crawling under the covers and quickly realizing that being left alone to his thoughts when he was in a state like this realy wasn't a good thing. 

His nightmares began before he even fell asleep, and when the sun poured through the windows, he wasn't sure he got a wink of sleep. 

Yoshio crawled out of bed, dismayed to realize it was monday. He groaned, getting into his uniform and thanking whatever higher beings existed that his leg only hurt the normal amount today. 

He really didn't want to go to school today, but he had no choice really. So he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair before heading downstairs for breakfast. 

Father wasn't at breakfast today, which meant it was a free for all- although today was quiet. Yuuma nodded to him, then continued to pick at his food. Akira was happily telling the other two about the show they'd watched last night. There was absoultely not chaos. 

And Yoshio knew exactly why. 

He stared at the food, not hungry at all. He picked at it, mostly pushing it around his plate. Yuuma glanced over and, seeing what Yoshio was doing, began to eat his own food. Yoshio glanced up, realizing that Yuuma was trying to lead by example, as Yuuma had been picking at his food as well minutes earlier. They made eyecontact, and Yoshio could see the concern in Yuuma's eyes, so he copied his brother, and slowly ate some of the food, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in his gut. 

The drive to school was just as quiet, but Yoshio couldn't help but notice Yuuma glancing at him every now and then, eyes filled with guilt. A small part of him wondered if Yuuma had remembered that it had been Yoshio's birthday yesterday, but a larger part understood that it didn't really matter; too little, too late. 

Walking in, climbing the stairs, and heading towards his classroom had always been lonely experiences, but now Yoshio felt hollow- even more so than usual. He felt like glass, brittle and rreflective, letting everyone see the his shame-riddled ruby-red insides. 

"Ootori!"  Yuzuru called out, waving him over. Yoshio sighed, aproaching, trying to keep his guts inside himself. "You gotta tell me, man! What did Igerashi get your for your birthday?"

Oh god, there it went. Yoshio retched, despite trying desperatly to catch himself, and threw up- but Yuzuru must have been expecting it, shoving a paper bag over Yoshio's mouth. The bag caught all the vomit and Yuzur quickly threw it away. 

"I'm not letting you go home early on my watch again," Yuzuru flashed a grin at him, and Yoshio couldn't help but give him a weak smile back. 

"Impy!" Kokomi had suddenly appeared, wiping the remaining vomit from Yoshio's mouth and handing him a bottle of water. "You threw up! Oh darling, do we need to go to the nurse?"

Before Yoshio could begin to panic or even respond, Yuzuru spoke up with a frown. "Are you kidding me, Igerashi? The nurse'd call his old man. Think about it, for like, a minute." 

Kokomi blinked at him for a moment, before glaring. "Who the hell asked you, Souh?"

"It's...it's fine..." Yoshio spoke up, waving her off, "He's...not wrong."

"Ah. But impy, are you sure-" 

Yoshio felt his body tense up of its own accord, "Kokomi, I-" he froze, looking at Kokomi's expressiong, and the hopeful glint in Yuzuru's eyes. He caught himself, and took a breath. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." 

He walked into the classroom, trying to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest at the idea of talking back to Kokomi. 

"Ooh~" He could hear Yuzuru's voice continuing, "trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up Souh, you faggot."

Yoshio still wasn't sure what that word meant, but it had been used by his father to describe him, and by Kokomi to describe Yuzuru, so he was pretty sure it must be an insult of some kind. 

Sitting down, he become acutely aware that people were looking art him, piting him. It did occur to him that Fumihito and Yosuke's disapearances must have been in the news this morning. That thought made his blood run cold, and all he could do was stare blankly forward until he managed to actually move his mind on to thw lesson. 

Father had been convinced that since Yoshio had a bad leg, it meant that Yoshio was also slow mentally. Now, Yoshio was sure he was an inteligent boy, he was almost top of his class, but that was probab;y the fact he studied so much. Father was probably right about Yoshio being slow, although Yoshio was pretty sure that was more connected to his social skills than his academic abilities. 

Even so, Yoshio made sure to study harder than any of his peers. He had to be smarter than them, if not for his father than now, for Kokomi, for her plan and his future business.  If he was going to commit himself to being evil, then by god he was going to do it well. 

That was what he told himself, so he could focus on his studies without his guilt tearing him apart. 

He felt like a bomb today, a bomb made of paper and glass. Yoshio was one wrong move away from completely blowing up- or perhaps shattering, he hadn't figured that one out yet. 

Luckily, nothing went wrong that day. Not until the end of the day, when Kokomi aproached him and kissed his cheek. "How about it then, Impy? Wanna come to my place again?"

Yoshio desperately wanted to say no, but saying no to Kokomi seemed like a crime... and Yoshio needed an outlet for the rage he felt.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 15 - "Breaking the Habit" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

More Hearts of Gold for today's @whumptober fic! This is my Bucciarati/OC series. We're going back in time in the series: this one is set very soon after Hearts of Gold, when Bruno and Maria are still newlyweds and Maria hasn't yet figured out that Bruno is very bad at taking care of himself.

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Makeshift Bandages, Suppressed Suffering, 'I'm Fine' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Bucciarati

~~~~~~~

Read on A03

~~~~~~~~

Bucciarati cringed as he threw the bloody cloths into the trash can of the hotel bathroom before re-applying zippers to his injuries. That would do for now until Giorno returned in a few days and if needed, he would ask him to fix them up. For now Bruno really just wanted to get back home to his wife.

He never used to think anything about being away on missions—they were tiring but part of the job. However, since marrying Maria almost two months ago now, he was less and less eager to leave for extended periods. Which is why he had promised her a night out as soon as he got back, for both of them.

Which…he needed to be leaving soon if they were going to make the reservation he'd had Maria book at their favorite restaurant that night.

He swiftly dressed, cringing slightly at the pull of fabric over the tender skin around the zippers in his side and thigh, then exited the bathroom to find Abbacchio already packed up and ready.

"Ready?" Bruno asked him.

Abbacchio glanced over, giving him a once over. "You good?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you didn't let me look at those injuries you got in the fight last night," Abbacchio said.

"There was no need to, they weren't serious," Bruno assured him, forcing himself to not limp as he went to grab his bag. Painful, maybe, but pain would hardly kill him. "Come on, I'm not going to miss taking my lovely wife out to dinner tonight."

"Don't worry, I was tasked with bringing you back specifically on time," Abbacchio said with a fond smile.

Bruno huffed a laugh. Honestly, the constant conspiring that went on between Leone and Maria behind his back was ridiculous. They were a force to be reckoned with.

"Then we'd best get going."

It was a couple hours' drive back to Napoli from the location of their mission and Bruno took that time to rest, trying to ignore how the seatbelt rubbed against the wound in his side. There'd been more opponents at the raid last night than he had suspected, and one man had come at him with a knife, slashing him a couple times before Bruno had taken him down with Sticky Fingers. He hadn't had time to deal with the injuries at the time, simply using his tried and true method of applying zippers to close them up as they cleaned up the rest of the operation.

He put a pair of sunglasses on and tilted his head back, trying to sleep. Clean-up had taken them until early afternoon, so neither of them had slept for over 24 hours now—going on 36. Bruno was feeling it more than he wanted to admit. He hoped he wouldn't look absolutely awful by the time he got to dinner.

He dozed fitfully, body warm and uncomfortable under the afternoon sun streaming into the car.

As they finally got back to Napoli, Bruno gave up trying to sleep, rubbing his head as he checked the time.

"It's gonna be a little tight," Abbacchio apologized.

"I still have to change too," Bruno said, and pulled out his phone. "I'll just call Maria and tell her to head over to the restaurant to meet the reservation time."

He blinked back the exhaustion, rubbing at his slightly swollen eyes as he dialed Maria's number.

"Hello?" her voice came over the line.

"Hello, my love. I might be a little late, so why don't you go on ahead and I'll meet you at the restaurant when I get back?"

"Oh, that's fine, but, Bruno, if you're too tired tonight, we can go some other time."

"No," he insisted. "A night out with you is exactly what I need right now."

"Well, I'll see you there then," she replied, a smile in her voice.

"See you soon, mi cara."

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and glanced at his watch again.

"Are you sure you're up for this? You look exhausted," Abbacchio asked.

"I am," Bruno admitted. "But a relaxing night out is a perfect remedy."

Abbacchio shrugged. "You do have a point. It's probably going to be chaos at home, especially with Giorno and Fugo also out of town."

Bruno chuckled. "That's your problem tonight, amico."

"Thanks," Abbacchio muttered.

Bruno leaned back in his seat, suppressing a sigh.

His body felt like a lead weight when they finally got back to the mansion and he dragged himself out of the car.

After the initial greetings from Trish, Narancia and Mista, he hurried to change into a clean suit before heading out.

He'd thankfully been able to shower at the hotel so it was mostly a matter of fixing his hair and changing into his black date-night suit.

His muscles protested even the small movement of taking his shirt off, an uncomfortable tug on the zippered wound in his side. Bruno prodded the area lightly, gritting his teeth against the pain. The skin around it felt slightly warm and looked red and irritated.

He didn't have time to worry about it, though, and took some pills as he buttoned his shirt up, pulled on his trousers and coat and headed out the door.

"Have a good time, Bucciarati!" Trish called to him.

He smiled and thanked her as he grabbed his keys and headed out.

XXX

Maria started with a glass of wine as she waited for Bruno, eager to see him again. He'd only been gone with Leone for four days, but she had missed him, especially with the addition of him going into a dangerous situation. She knew she would have to get used to it, but it still kept her up at night, alone in their big bed.

But soon enough, she spotted her husband coming toward her table with a soft smile on his face.

"There you are!" Maria called, standing up to allow him to pull her into his arms, with a chaste kiss to her lips.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late, but I didn't want to come in work clothes," he grimaced.

Maria got a good look at him finally, holding him at arm's length. There were definite dark circles under his eyes, but he also just looked a little wan and pale in general.

She reached up to touch his warm cheek with concern. "Bruno, are you sure you're all right? You look a little…well."

He shifted so he could kiss her hand with a smile. "I am a bit tired, but I'm happy to be back. A nice relaxing dinner will be much appreciated."

Maria smiled, though there was still a furrow between her brows as she led Bruno back to the table and they sat. The waiter came over, offering more wine and taking their orders.

All the while, Maria was watching her husband, trying not to show too much concern outwardly, but he did really look a little rough, slumping in his chair, his brow pinched slightly. She would make sure to put him to bed early once they got back.

Once they had finished dinner, Bruno suggested a walk in the park nearby. "There's a gelato stand as well—we can get dessert."

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Maria asked, trying not to sound worried. "I know you're tired."

He waved her concern away. "I'd rather get some fresh air," he told her with a smile, reaching for her hand. "Come on—tell me what went on while I was away."

Maria took his hand and talked as they walked toward the park. Bruno felt rather warm beside her, but she had been slightly chilly in the restaurant and didn't think much of it.

When a jogger nearly ran into her, Maria was forced to bump into Bruno to avoid being hit, and was surprised when he staggered slightly, a small gasp escaping his throat.

"That was rather rude," she muttered before looking up at her husband, seeing his face had gone pale and there was sweat beading on his brow. "Bruno? Are you okay?"

"I—yes," he replied, forcing a tight smile. "I just—maybe I am a little more tired than I thought."

She took both his hands in hers firmly. "How about you sit here and I'll go pick up a pint of gelato that we can take home and eat in bed?" she suggested with a fond smile.

Bruno chuckled and bent to kiss her. "Well, I can't really argue with that."

"Oh, Bucciarati!"

An older woman who ran a flower stand called to him and he and Maria looked over.

"Ah, Signora Galini!" Bruno greeted with a tired smile, squeezing Maria's hand before letting it go. "Let me go see if she needs anything. Pick out whatever flavor you'd like—you know I like all of them."

Maria smiled and cast a fond glance back as the old woman asked Bruno to help her load her stand into the small trailer attached to her vespa.

She hurried to go get the gelato, picking out a rich chocolate mocha flavor, before returning to see Bruno finishing up and waving to the old woman as she drove away.

His face as he turned around though was crumpled in pain, one hand going up to press to his side. Maria hesitated, watching as Bruno reached for the back of the bench, going to lean on it.

His hand missed and he stumbled, legs seeming to give out under him.

"Bruno?!" Maria cried and pushed herself into a run, collapsing beside him, not caring about the grass stains on her dress. His head lolled and she took his face between her hands forcing his chin up to look at her.

"Just…need a second," he murmured.

Maria looked down where he was still pressing a hand to his side. She opened his coat and pulled it aside.

From the light of a streetlamp she could see a patch of red against his white shirt.

"You're hurt!" she gasped. "Bruno, why didn't you tell me you'd been injured!"

"It really wasn't that bad," he sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry to alarm you, lifting the stand pulled at the injury and I think that made me a little woozy."

Maria pressed her hand to his cheek again. "But you're fevered! The wound could be infected."

She was already pulling the phone from her purse and dialing as she wrapped her arm around her husband, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder.

"Leone," she said shakily as the phone was answered wearily. "Could you please come pick us up from the park?"

"I can get back to the car," Bruno protested before Maria shushed him.

"What's wrong?" Leone asked.

"Bruno's hurt," she said sternly. "Please—the park by the restaurant."

There was a quick confirmation and the call cut out. Maria tucked the phone away and pulled one of Bruno's arms around her shoulders. "Come on, you can sit on the bench which we wait."

He cringed as he forced himself up, right leg shaky as he sank down onto the bench. She practically forced him to lay down with his head in her lap but once he was there he sagged tiredly, eyes closed as she ran her fingers soothingly across his brow, stroking his hair.

"Is that the only injury?" she asked suspiciously.

"That and my leg," Bruno said tiredly.

"Bruno!" Maria scolded, a lump forming in her throat. He reached up to take her free hand.

"I'm sorry, mi amore," he told her sincerely. "I should have said something."

"Yes, you should have," she replied shakily, hurt and fear clashing inside of her.

Headlights illuminated the area and a car came to a quick stop on the side of the road.

Leone got out and hurried over to the bench.

"Maria," he called, stopping as he saw Bruno laying in her lap. He huffed a sigh, reaching down to help Maria heave her husband up. "Bruno, I asked you if you were hurt."

"Yes, yes," Bruno muttered, cringing as they pulled him up between them.

Leone swore and Maria pressed her lips together. They got Bruno into the backseat and then headed back to the house.

"I think he might have an infection since he's running a fever," Maria said worriedly.

Leone glanced back at the injured man. "Did you just zipper yourself shut again?"

"I didn't really have that much of a choice, Leone, we were in the middle of a fight."

"Yes, and we had plenty of time to take care of them properly this morning when we got back from the job," Leone replied in exasperation, shaking his head.

Bruno was silent, slumped against the seat as they drove.

Once they got back to the house, Maria and Leone helped Bruno upstairs to their room and left him sitting on the bench in the bathroom.

"Help me find the medical supplies," Maria said to Leone as they left the room.

Once they were downstairs, Maria grabbed Leone's arm and glowered at him. "I can't believe you didn't try to discourage him from going out tonight if you knew he was injured! You should have let me know, Leone!"

"You're right, I should have told you," he admitted. "But I honestly didn't know how bad it was—the only time he ever lets me look at injuries if he's still standing is when I actually see them happen. I know that's not an excuse but—you're not alone in your frustrations."

Maria's eyes welled and Leone's face softened again, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it. "You know he's just like this. I'm hoping that you might change that in him."

"Well, apparently not," Maria sniffled, reaching up to wipe her eyes.

Leone pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "I think he'll start to see reason once he realizes how upset you are. But let's go take care of the idiot, okay? I think we still have some antibiotics around here somewhere."

They gathered what they would need and returned to Bruno who was struggling to undress, taking his trousers off with one hand while he steadied himself with the other.

"Here," Maria said quickly and went to help him, revealing another reddened injury on his thigh. She sat him back down and eased his shirt off. The sight of his old scars sent a different emotion through her than usual. Maybe he did have a point in these injuries being relatively minor when he had suffered such grievous ones in the past.

"Undo the zippers," Leone said.

Bruno sighed and waved his hand briefly. Maria watched as the wounds parted slightly and began to bleed sluggishly again.

"They do look infected," Leone said darkly. "We'll have to flush them out."

Maria nodded stoically, lips pressed together, as they helped Bruno to sit in the tub. He lay back wearily, wincing and making small sounds of pain every once in a while as they washed the wounds out with a saline solution.

"Is that all?" Maria asked as they finished.

Leone probed the wound in Bruno's side, maybe a little more harshly than he would have normally, causing the other man to tense. "There doesn't seem to be any puss yet, so, it should be fine with an antibacterial cream and the antibiotics."

Maria nodded, dabbing the wounds dry with a swatch of gauze.

Bruno was silent as they bandaged him up and helped him to bed. Maria brought him a glass of water and the pills.

"Please take them," she coaxed.

Bruno did as he was asked. Maria took the glass and sank down next to him tiredly as Leone cleaned up the medical supplies.

"Maria," Bruno finally said, reaching for her hand. "I'm truly sorry for scaring you."

"It's not about scaring me, Bruno!" she snapped, feeling the lump form in her throat again. "Don't you get it? I know your job is dangerous, I knew that from the beginning—it's not that I don't expect you to get hurt on occasion. I know it's just an inevitability of our lives." She sighed, shoving her hair back. "What I'm mad about is that you think you need to hide your pain, and you don't. Don't you think I would have been just as happy cuddling and watching a movie with you tonight while you recovered instead of forcing yourself to go out while you were obviously not well?"

Bruno looked chastised, eyes falling to his hands as his lashes brushed fever-flushed cheeks. "You're right. I know it's something I need to work on. You understand, when I started down this path in this life, I had no one. I had to be strong constantly, otherwise I would risk letting myself break under the pressure. It made me admittedly rather negligent toward my own care so that, even when I had people I could count on, I kept some very bad habits." He looked up at her again, reaching up to brush his fingers across her cheek. "But I'm not alone anymore, and I should remember that more often."

"Yes," Maria pleaded, placing her hand over his and holding it to her cheek. "Please remember that you have a wife at home, and a family who loves you."

Leone finished up in the bathroom and speared him with a look as he carried the first aid kit out. "Listen to her, Bruno. For the love of god, change your ways for her if not for the rest of us."

Bruno sighed tiredly as Maria tucked him into bed. "I'm going to clean up." She offered a tentative smile. "If you want, the gelato is a little melted, but I'm sure it's still good."

Bruno smiled back softly and nodded. "That sounds good, amore."

Maria hurriedly went to change into her pajamas and wash her face. She detoured to the kitchen to grab the gelato before one of the kids could find it and hurried back upstairs to her injured husband.

She crawled into bed beside him, producing two spoons and the pint of dessert. "Are you comfortable, darling?" she asked, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

"As comfortable as possible," he said truthfully. "I'm rather sore."

"Well, chocolate helps," Maria smiled, before she leaned over him. "And so does kissing it better."

She pressed her lips to his and Bruno reached up to cradle the back of her head, holding her close for a few long minutes as their mouths worked against each other.

When Maria finally pulled away, she met his love-blown eyes and said, "Remember that the next time you go on a dangerous mission and promise me you'll come home safe."

Bruno slid his hand down her cheek and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. "I promise I will."

Maria, satisfied, tucked herself against his side and they both dug into the gelato.

When it was finished, Bruno could barely keep his eyes open another second and Maria kissed his cheek and folded the blankets more firmly over them both as she pulled his head in under her chin. He gave a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder.

"Thank you, my love," he whispered.

Maria kissed his head and played with his hair until he fell asleep. "Sleep well, darling. I'll look after you tonight."