#wanted to play around with the glow tool today!

[macehysteria]

He's such a good boy! 🦈⚡️

OC belongs to the amazing @elleinmotion!

Vi's looking a little crazy in this one but who doesn't experience a little cuteness aggression when presented with such a baby!

[mephisto-reporting]

Take A Break

About: You’ve been pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion. Someone needs to step in and help you rest before it takes a serious toll on your health—or worse. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

XAVIER

You could feel exhaustion creeping into your bones, but your hands still worked, fixing up your equipment, mindlessly checking and rechecking everything.

“You should take a break.”

Xavier’s voice, calm and devoid of inflection. He was seated at the table, eyes half-lidded as if he could fall asleep at any moment. His usual expression didn’t waver, but you’d been around him long enough to recognize the care beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed the truth. You kept busy, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

Without saying anything, Xavier reached into his jacket and pulled out a deck of Kitty Cards, placing them on the table between you. “Play a round with me.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Now’s really not the time for games, Xavier.”

He shrugged, his expression unchanged. “You won’t rest, and there is time until the next mission, so this is the compromise. Besides…” His eyes glimmered with the smallest trace of mischief. “I want to win this time.”

Xavier’s boyish charm peeked through his usual calm, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly how to get to you, and this was one of those moments where he wasn’t above using it.

“Fine,” you said, reluctantly setting down your tools. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

His lips quirked up. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if I win, you listen to me and get some rest., Deal?”

Knowing how he usually was in this game, you confidentally accepted his deal. There was no way you would lose. As the game commenced, Xavier’s focus was unwavering. He played his cards methodically, and before long, he had amassed a considerable lead. You frowned, desperately trying to catch up. Just as you were about to make a move, Xavier leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Xavier!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed as he dozed off, completely unaware of the game progressing without him. You couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. The sudden quiet felt oddly peaceful, allowing you to relax for just a moment. You noticed how the soft glow of the lights illuminated his serene expression.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, feigning innocence, though you could see the way he fought back a smile.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but fatigue was making it hard. Xavier’s hand was steady as he played his next move, drawing the game closer to an end.

He was winning. “Looks like you’re distracted,” Xavier commented, his voice still soft, though there was an edge of teasing in it. “Maybe you're too tired to concentrate?”

You glared at him playfully. “You’re just lucky today.”

Finally, with a quiet triumph in his eyes that didn’t quite reach his face, he played his last card. "I win."

You exhaled, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside. “Alright, you got me. What now? Another round?”

He shook his head, leaning forward just slightly. His gaze softened, his unreadable expression giving way to something more sincere. “No. Now you rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Xavier cut you off. “You’re exhausted. I can see it. If you keep pushing yourself, you won’t be able to fight the Wanderers. You won’t be able to protect yourself. this is my win. You rest.”

You blinked at him, a warmth settling in your chest at the unexpected care behind his words. Xavier, the one who barely showed emotion, was looking out for you in his own way. You couldn’t deny it any longer. You were tired, so incredibly tired.

“Alright,” you conceded, leaning back into the sofa. “I’ll rest.”

Xavier gave a slow nod, his eyes softening further. “Good.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt him reach over, the deck of cards disappearing from the table. The familiar sound of shuffling filled the air, and though he didn’t say anything more, the steady presence of Xavier nearby was all the comfort you needed.

He had won, but in that moment, so had you.

ZAYNE

The makeshift hospital buzzed with activity, filled with the low hum of hurried footsteps and murmured instructions. The air was thick with exhaustion, tension from the recent attacks on the area palpable. You’d been at it for hours, taking on shift after shift without a break, ensuring that everyone in the hospital remained safe. Your body ached, your limbs felt heavier with every passing moment, but you pressed on.

There wasn’t time to rest.

Zayne was nearby, performing triage on the injured, his face as stoic as always. Despite the weight of the situation, he remained calm, moving with precise efficiency. His hands—deft and careful as ever—made sure each patient was stabilized, patched up, and prepped for whatever came next.

You caught his gaze for a fleeting moment, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the concern beneath his composed exterior.

“Still standing, huh?” Zayne said, his voice low as he approached you, eyes scanning over your fatigued form. His tone, as usual, carried a hint of dry amusement despite the serious situation. “Or at least trying to.”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s not like you’ve been up for nearly 24 hours or anything.” He sighed, his lips twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to smile.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off his words. “I’m not the only one working without rest.”

Zayne gave a short nod, acknowledging your point. “True. But there’s a difference between pushing yourself and running yourself into the ground.” He glanced around the ward before turning his full attention back to you. “Come with me. You’ve done enough for now. I’ve got something that might help.”

You hesitated, but Zayne’s insistence was always hard to ignore. “What, now?”

“Yes. Now,” he replied, his tone firm but not without warmth. “I’ll even make sure it doesn’t take long.”

He didn’t give you much room to argue. Without waiting for a reply, he placed a gentle but guiding hand on your arm and led you to a small side ward, one reserved for staff members to take quick breaks. You gave him a quizzical look, but he just waved off your concerns with a simple, “Trust me.”

There, on a nearby table, sat two sealed containers of food. It wasn’t anything extravagant. “Eat,” he said, his voice calm, but there was an underlying firmness that told you he wasn’t asking.

You frowned, stubbornness rising up despite the exhaustion. “I don’t have time to eat, Zayne. There are still—”

“Eat,” he repeated, cutting you off. This time, his gaze softened, a rare show of tenderness slipping through his usually stoic exterior. “You can’t protect anyone if you collapse. This isn’t a negotiation.”

With a sigh, you took the container, too tired to argue further. You sat on one of the nearby beds, picking at the food slowly. Zayne stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching you with what seemed like affection. After a few bites, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you more than ever. You leaned back, letting the exhaustion creep in despite your best efforts to resist it. The bed beneath you was far too comfortable for your sleep-deprived mind to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Zayne quietly removed the empty container from your hands.

“You’re done,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. His touch was firm but soothing, and you found yourself slipping further into the comfort of the bed. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “I wasn’t planning on resting…”

“Of course not,” he said dryly, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you are now. Doctors orders.”

Before you could protest, Zayne’s hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a gesture so tender it left you speechless. “And if it gets you to rest, I’ll take a break too.”

Despite your determination, the exhaustion finally won. Zayne’s gentle touch and the warmth of his words lulled you into a peaceful surrender. You felt his presence nearby as your eyes fluttered shut, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting sound in the otherwise chaotic hospital. “I’ll be right here,” Zayne added softly, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep overtook you. “Get some rest.”

And with him by your side, for the first time in what felt like forever, you did.

RAFAYEL

You hadn’t seen Rafayel in days—not since your latest string of missions had taken you deep into the conflict with the Wanderers. As much as you tried to keep up with everything, exhaustion was catching up to you. Your movements felt sluggish, but you pushed on, determined not to let fatigue show. After all, you had work to do. Rafayel had a mission for you.

When you finally stepped into Rafayel’s space, his studio, he greeted you with a pout. "Well, look who finally decided to show up." His tone was bratty and haughty. "I was starting to think you forgot about me, Miss Bodyguard. "

You could hear the petulance in his voice, but you knew better. Beneath the teasing, there was always something softer with Rafayel, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He took a slow, deliberate look at you, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was annoyed by what he saw. He noticed your exhaustion.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“I’ve been...occupied,” you replied with a tired smile. “I’m sure you’ve been managing just fine without me.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, turning his head dramatically. “As if I’d need you around to keep me entertained. But—" He paused, his voice dropping into a more playful, roguish tone, "It is terribly boring without you. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “So, what’s this mission you’ve dragged me here for?”

Rafayel hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then, with a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed whatever real task had brought you here. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned forward slightly. “Ah, the mission? Well, I’ve decided I need a muse for my next painting,” he said smoothly. “And you, my dear Miss Bodyguard, will do just fine.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you over to a plush chaise lounge, his touch light but insistent as he maneuvered you into place. "Lie down," he ordered in his typical, half-commanding, half-teasing way. "You’re far too stiff to inspire anything worthwhile."

“What? A painting?” you began to object, trying to sit up. "Rafayel, I don’t—"

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and gave you a lazy, charming smile, as if you were the one being unreasonable. "Don’t move. You’ll ruin the masterpiece.”

Despite the flirtatious teasing, there was a strange warmth in his tone that had your heart skipping a beat. He made it impossible to argue, his words dripping with that roguish charm of his. Before you knew it, you were sinking into the softness of the chaise lounge, your limbs too heavy to resist.

"Now stay perfectly still,” he instructed, settling down with his canvas and brushes. “I want to capture you just like this.” His voice was almost a purr, amused by your protests but not letting you get a word in edgewise.

“Rafayel, I don’t have time to—” you tried, but he waved you off with that same infuriatingly relaxed smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk. I’m the artist here, remember? You’re just the subject,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to pretend like this was all part of some grand artistic vision. “Don’t ruin the vibe.”

You couldn’t help but scoff softly at his antics, but your exhaustion was winning. Between his teasing words and the comfortable softness of the chaise, your body was betraying you. The fight to stay awake was quickly becoming a losing battle.

Rafayel's voice was a soft hum in the background as he began to paint, each word drawing you further into a haze of warmth and comfort.

"See? Isn’t this better? I’ve always preferred my muses to be calm...and peaceful.” Lies. He knew it. He glanced up, his lips quirking in a knowing smile as he saw your eyelids drooping. “Don’t worry, Miss Bodyguard. You’re perfect just like this.”

As your consciousness started to slip away, the last thing you felt was Rafayel’s hand brushing against your hair in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. His bratty, teasing nature had softened, just for a moment, as he watched you drift off to sleep.

When you were fully asleep, he set down his brush, a satisfied smirk still on his face. He pulled a soft throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over you, his voice low as he spoke to your resting form.

“You really shouldn’t overwork yourself like this, you know?” His tone, for once, was gentle, almost affectionate. “I might not say it, but…I miss you when you’re gone.”

SYLUS

The small town was quiet as you finally made your way back, the distant hum of your motorbike in sight. It had been a grueling week spent battling through the Metaflux high zone and clearing out the Wanderers. The mission had taken its toll—your body was heavy with exhaustion, your muscles aching, but you had pushed through. You always did.

Reaching for your comms, you were about to check the latest updates when you noticed a shadowy figure leaning casually against your bike. The unmistakable silhouette made your pulse quicken. Sylus. He was dressed as sharp and intimidating as ever, his hair tousled just enough to give him that rogue-ish charm. His signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was amused by your surprise, but his sharp gaze gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not hiding the confusion in your voice. Even though he wasexactly the type to show up unannounced without a reason. And his reasons were rarely straightforward.

“Business,” he replied vaguely, the smirk never leaving his lips. He made it sound like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Had to deal with something. But… I seem to have found something else worth my attention.”

Before you could react, his hand reached out, gently but firmly taking hold of your wrist. His touch was surprisingly warm but assertive, and with a deft flick of his thumb, he shut off your comms.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, leaving no room for argument.

“Sylus, I don’t have time for—”

But before you could finish the sentence, you felt the familiar tug of his Evol—his will imposing on yours. In a swift, almost effortless move, he guided you onto your motorbike, positioning you behind him as he took control. The engine roared to life under his command.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said over his shoulder, that smug confidence radiating off him as he drove you both away.

The ride was fast and purposeful. You tried to protest, tried to convince him to stop, but he was always a step ahead. His control never faltered, and your words fell flat against the rush of the wind. Sylus didn’t let go of the reins until the bike finally came to a stop in front of a lavish hotel on the outskirts of town.

“Really? A hotel?” you muttered, incredulous.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead using his Evol once again to guide you inside and straight into a large, opulent room. Everything about the space screamed luxury—the soft lighting, the plush velvet furnishings, and the enormous bed that took center stage.

Still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, you tried to stand your ground. “Sylus, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back, there are Wanderers—”

“They’re being handled,” he interrupted smoothly, crossing the room with a lazy, confident stride. “Luke and Kieran are on patrol. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for the past week. It’s time for you to stop.” He gestured toward the bed. "Sit."

“Sylus—” you began, but before you could argue further, you felt that familiar pulse of his Evol, urging you toward the bed. His power wrapped around you, persuasive and unyielding, as if coaxing your tired body to comply with his silent command.

Your legs betrayed you, and you sank down onto the soft mattress, glaring up at him as he stood over you, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of triumph and something more difficult to place.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled.

“Me?” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk finally softening into something closer to amusement. “I’m not the one pretending to be invincible, sweetie. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and we both know it.”

You scowled, but deep down, you knew he was right. The exhaustion clung to your bones, and the idea of resting—even for a moment—was becoming more tempting by the second. Still, giving in to Sylus felt like losing a battle you hadn’t agreed to fight.

“Look,” he said, leaning down, his voice dropping to a softer, more persuasive tone. “Let’s make a deal.”

You eyed him warily. "What kind of deal?"

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly grin. “You rest—just for a little while. Take the next few hours off. In return…” His voice lowered, taking on that smooth, almost dangerous quality he used when he knew he had the upper hand. “I’ll let you decide what you want from me afterward. Something I can’t say no to.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the offer. Sylus never relinquished control easily, and for him to offer anything in return… well, it was enough to give you pause.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, kitten” he replied, his smirk widening just a fraction. “Think of it as a rare moment of generosity. You rest, really rest, and I’ll owe you a favor. Deal?”

You hesitated, trying to weigh your options, but the exhaustion gnawing at you was impossible to ignore. You’d been running on fumes, and Sylus—infuriatingly—was giving you a way out, even if it was wrapped up in his manipulative charm.

Finally, you sighed, giving in. “Fine. Deal.”

He smiled, that smug, triumphant smile that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he moved to the edge of the bed. “Now rest. I’ll make sure nothing happens to this town while you do.”

Before you could protest further, he covered you with a soft blanket, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. His hand brushed against your cheek for a moment, his fingers gentle—almost tender, though he’d never admit it. “You don’t have to play the hero all the time, you know,” he said quietly. “Let someone else handle things for once.”

“You... really owe me a favor?”

He chuckled softly, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “I always keep my promises... especially to you.”

Before you could say anything else, your exhaustion finally overtook you, and the last thing you felt was Sylus’s hand lingering on yours, his thumb tracing a light, almost affectionate circle against your skin. You realized—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind letting Sylus win this one.

Just this once.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[bigfan-fanfic]

Tradition and Ritual (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request a full fic where Dean does the classic asking his bf's very approving dad for permission before popping the question? Just full, teeth-rottingly-sweet fluff.

Dean isn't necessarily dense. He can be pretty clever at times, though he's not a great wit.

But there is just some kind of mental block when it comes to your father.

Maybe it's his own awful relationship with his own, but he seems almost afraid of your dad.

This is despite the fact that the man is a total sweetheart, and has been your biggest shipper since you first told him you were going to ask Dean out.

Your dad loves Dean - he's always talking him up to you about his skill with cars at the machine shop.

When you and Dean got a place together, your dad has been super excited, certain a proposal can't be far behind.

"Daaaaad!" You protest, and he chuckles.

"What? He's an old-fashioned kind of guy, despite his past. I bet he wants Sweet Child O' Mine played when you walk down the aisle."

You roll your eyes. "Maybe we don't count my chickens before they hatch?"

"You mean your rings before they... get fingered? Nope. Not that."

Your dad chuckles at the weird phrasing. "You two going on another date later?"

"Yeah, he's taking me to dinner tonight."

"Oooooooh..." your dad teases. "Proposal alert!"

"Dad...."

"Fine, fine, just teasing. I won't blab to him at work, don't worry."

"Thank you." You say, smiling as you say goodbye as he heads off to the shop.

Dean is already there prepping when he arrives.

"Heya, kiddo." your dad grins at Dean.

"Ah! Sir."

"Whoa, you're jumpy today."

Dean chuckles nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

Dean tries to play it off and leave his nervousness behind, but he's anxious all day.

He's clumsy today, accidentally dropping tools more than once and jumping when addressed.

Your dad is pretty concerned about him, and asks him to take his lunch break at the same time as him so they can talk.

"Hey, Dean-O. You doin alright?"

Dean sighs. "I... Look, I know I'm not a very... appealing guy, you know, for your son."

"Whoa, what are you talking about?"

"I'd be protective too, and I-"

"Dean! Dean. Calm down."

Your dad reaches across the table to put a hand on Dean's shoulder to steady him.

Dean looks at him. "It's... there's a right way of doing these things. And I... I love your son, sir. I really do. I know we moved in together and all, but... You have been so kind and welcoming to me, and... honestly, a lot more like a dad to me than my own dad was. And I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't..."

Dean runs out of words or breath, and falls silent, trying to calm himself.

"Say what you need, Dean-O." your dad says softly.

"I want to ask for your blessing. To marry your son. I was planning on proposing tonight."

"Oh my god!" Your dad jumps up and practically scurries around the table to draw Dean into a big hug.

The poor man is so stunned by this enthusiastic reaction, his eyes wide, arms hanging limply by his side.

"Kiddo, this is fantastic! Oh, god, he's gonna flip!"

"So, you... you're okay with-"

"Absolutely! You don't need my permission or my blessing, but I give it wholeheartedly. I'm so happy for you both, kiddo."

Dean tries not to cry, but his eyes are misty, and your dad isn't exactly unmoved either. It's something Dean has loved about him - your dad is masculine enough in his eyes to own and enjoy running an auto shop, but he doesn't feel ashamed at all about showing his feelings.

"I'm so proud of you, Dean-O."

"Thank you, sir."

"Ah! Ah-ah. You gotta call me Dad now."

Dean blinks several times, before he breaks out into a grin. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks... Dad."

Your dad is all smiles that evening when Dean leaves to go shower and pick you up for dinner.

But not as happy as Dean, who is practically glowing. He's about to join himself to you together, and even more, he finally has another father figure in his life who actually cares about him and supports him.

[lovehypegirl]

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK

synopsis: You're a first year at Jujutsu Tech and your mentor is Nanami Kento. You try to get the man to open up a little after a visit to the bakery and record store information: reader's technique uses firearms pairing: platonic!nanami x platonic!gn!reader WC: 958 warnings.ᐟ : none

Gojo had assigned Nanami to be your mentor in attempt to get Nanami to work more with the students

Honesty, he thought that you and Nanami were somewhat similar, calm and collected but slightly classy

I mean, even your uniform looked like what he wore. Your uniform was a dress shirt, suspenders, shoulder holsters for you handguns, dress pants, and Louboutin dress shoes (that you had bought with Gojo's card)

You had just finished up your mission at an abandoned warehouse and as the multitude of curses faded away after exorcism, you placed your sniper rifle in your case and your handheld gun in your shoulder holster. Closing the clasps on your rifle case you stood up holding the case and adjusting the shoulder holster.

Nanami stood to the side wiping his hands on a handkerchief of any blood that the curses spewed

"Nanamin!" you called out "are you ready to leave? We've cleared the area of any curses"

"Yes. We're leaving now" he answered shortly as he turned around. He placed his cursed tool on the back of his shoulder holster

You followed after him carrying your rifle case out of the dark warehouse

Nanami walked on the street side of the sidewalk and you walked on the building side

You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light

"It's sunset already" you stared up at the sun with a smile "how pretty" you walked next to Nanami as you looked at how the golden glow rested on buildings

You turned to a window that so happened to be a bakery and you saw how the sunset softened your features and how Nanami's sharp features were highlighted by the sunlight in certain places

"Do you wish to go in there?" His deep voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts

"Oh um...I don't wish to trouble you" you turned away from the bakery

"No matter, If your hungry then we can eat...you had a harsh mission today so it's best if you ate" he opened the door to the bakery with a ding!

You followed after him unsure of what to say

The girl at the counter greeted in a cheery manner

"Hello! You're back again!" she smiled (IT'S THE BAKERY GIRL FROM THE MANGA!!)

"Pick what you want" he looked over at you

You hesitated slightly unsure of letting your mentor spend his money on you

"I told you, it's no matter" he placed a hand on your shoulder "Pick what you want"

"Uhm...okay then...(favorite food)"

"Let's get that for her and...a danish for me"

"The usual then huh? Who'd you bring with you?"

"She's my pupil as of 2 months ago"

"Wow! I'm sure you're a great teacher" she smiled at you and you smiled back

"He is" you grinned as he paid for your food

He walked out of the store with you by his side taking your rifle case from your hand as he handed you the food he bought for you

You felt slight relief as you finished your food, you were really hungry but didn't want to bother him for food

You looked to the side as you crossed the street spotting a record store

Throwing out the wrapper for your food as you reached the other side of the street

"I can carry my rifle now, and you can head on back to the school. I wanna stop here for a bit I wanna buy something" you pointed to the record store

"Don't worry about it I'll go with you"

"But our mission is over..."

"The mission doesn't end until we reach the school safely. It's also getting dark soon and you shouldn't be out alone in the dark"

He placed a hand on your back and guided you into the store

The record store held a nice ambiance, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald's Autumn In New York played in the background on a record

A young woman with short red hair sat behind the counter shuffling through records

"Oh, y/n! You're back"

"Yea, do you have any new Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra?"

"Yeah, we just got Songs For Swingin' Lovers a few days ago. Should be in the back. A couple of Sade came in as well!"

"Thanks!" you called as you walked towards the section she pointed to

"Do you come here often?" Nanami asked

"I do! I really like vinyl...y'see I collect 'em. I think my first was a Beatles record...I got it for Christmas when I was...seven? Eight? I dunno, but I also got a record player the next year, so I started collecting" you rambled on as you went through the Jazz C-D box looking for a Dean Martin record that you could add to your collection

"You collect them hm?"

"Yeah! I wanna own every album from every one of my favorites one day"

"...Who are your favorites?" Nanami had begun to go through a Crooners Classics G-H box

"Oh gosh, well I love Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Louis Armstrong, ect. The classics y'know? I really like jazz...but lately, I've been into Neo-Soul...I'm thinking that this summer can be the Neo-Soul Summer 'cause during the winter I listened to a lot of Jazz...." you trained off "...uhm...am I talking too much?"

"Don't worry about it"

You nodded slightly with a small smile "Okay um...have you listened to Sade before?" you walked over to the section where Sade's records were located

"I have not" he turned towards you as you shuffled through a box

"Here we go..." you pulled out a record and handed it to him

"This one is Diamond Life released in 1984 it's uh...nine songs...one of my favorite albums"

"Mhm.." he turned the record over and read the list of songs

"My favorite time to listen to Sade is in the evening...it really fits the atmosphere...and here we go!" you picked up the Frank Sinatra record to buy for yourself

"'Kay...I'm gonna get this one...do you wanna get that record?"

He nodded slowly "Yes, why not"

"Great!" you took the record from him

"I'll get them this time since you covered our food"

"y/n I am--"

"--my mentor I know. But this is my thank you for being a really good mentor to me. Uhm...you keep me...down to Earth in a way? It's nice having a level-headed mentor...in comparison to Gojo...who's head seem to be everywhere but his neck!" you walked to the counter and placed the records on the counter and paid for them

When you exited the store with Nanami you handed him the record

"Here you go Nanamin!" You handed him the Sade record "I hope you enjoy it!"

"Thank you, y/n" he accepted the record you handed to him "you didn't have to do that, you know"

"Oh I know! But like I said, I'm thankful for having a mentor who's head is screwed on straight" you smiled as you talked to him

He huffed out a small laugh at your statement

"While we're on the topic of thanks, I've been meaning to thank you properly for the sourdough starter. I wasn't expecting it as a gift but it was a wonderful one. How did you know?"

"Gojo-sensei runs his mouth a lot"

"That he does"

"My mom also likes bread and...she has a starter to she taught me how to make one. I think that people who like bread should make their own! 'Cause then, they can have it whenever they want. Plus it's nice to smell the bread you make when I wake up on Sunday"

He smiled "I'm glad. You mentioned your first record was the Beatles, yes? How did you go from that to Jazz?"

"Wellll the Beatles is considered Madchester which really isn't my type of music so! I began experimenting and found Jazz! My parents took me to a Jazz club and I swear I spiraled from there! I even began to learn the saxophone!"

"The saxophone you say?"

"Yeah! Sometimes I play at night since it's the only thing keeping me sane at this point...curse-killing really puts a strain on the physical body and practicing an instrument helps...it really does"

"You're the one playing at night..."

"...you can hear it..? I thought you didn't stay on campus?"

"I had to stay late one night to file a mission report that I had been holding off on"

"Well, I hope it wasn't a bother..."

"Of course not, Desmond Blue by Paul Desmond is never a bother"

"Oh you knew the song!"

"You play quite well it's easy to recognize"

"Thank's Nanamin!" you smiled up at him

He returned your smile slightly and pat your back as you both walked back to Jujutsu Tech

"Now, tell me more about the songs you know..."

You shared anecdotes about your favorite songs and artists, from the soulful melodies of Sade to the timeless classics of Frank Sinatra. Nanami listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with his own insights or questions, demonstrating a genuine curiosity about your musical tastes.

As you approached the school grounds, you realized how much you appreciated these moments of camaraderie with your mentor. Despite his initial stoicism, Nanami had proven to be a supportive and understanding presence in your life as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

As the conversation wound down, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected bond you shared over music. It was a reminder that even in the midst of darkness and danger, there were moments of connection and joy to be found.

With a sense of contentment, you and Nanami entered the school grounds, ready to continue your journey together as mentor and pupil. And as the evening descended, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a steadfast ally by your side

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Masquerade.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this was actually one of my favourite concepts to write, i'm not sure why but i think it was because of all the angst that it's filled with...

word count - 10.5k (sheesh…)

in which, your friend drags you along to a high school reunion halloween party, which you one hundred percent do not feel in the mood to attend, but his nagging doesn't hold off, so being the good friend you are, you give into his nagging. a shocking revelation occurs when your ex walks through the door who you as well as everyone else didn’t expect to turn up leading to a confrontation that's nothing but emotional.

trope: exboyfriend!harry

Teaching ten-year-old girls football has been your lifelong dream, a passion that ignited when you were just a child yourself. You remember the sheer joy and exhilaration the sport brought you, until that fateful day when you got tackled and broke your leg at the age of nineteen. That incident left you with an indelible fear of playing again, but it couldn't extinguish your love for the game. So, you decided to channel your passion into a different path - you pursued a degree in football coaching.

Now, as you stand on the field, overseeing a group of eager young girls, you can't help but smile. You see a reflection of your younger self in their bright eyes, full of curiosity and excitement. The thrill of imparting your knowledge and nurturing their love for the sport is immeasurable.

You've learned from your own experience that winning isn't everything. It's about fostering a love for the game and helping these girls develop both as players and as individuals. When they win, your heart swells with pride, knowing you've played a part in their success. But when they face defeat, you're not too harsh on them. Instead, you use those moments as opportunities for growth.

Your training sessions are carefully designed to balance skill-building with fun. You know that at this age, it's essential to keep them engaged and enthusiastic. So, you blend drills and exercises with playful activities that make learning enjoyable. You've seen firsthand how this approach helps the girls not only improve their football skills but also develop teamwork, discipline, and confidence.

As you watch them practice and play, you often reminisce about your own playing days, feeling a pang of nostalgia mixed with pride. Despite your personal setback, you've found a way to stay connected to the sport you love and make a meaningful impact on these young athletes' lives. It's not just about winning or losing; it's about nurturing their passion, teaching them resilience, and giving them the tools to succeed both on and off the field.

You're living your dream, not as a player but as a coach, and the smiles on those girls' faces when they score a goal or make a brilliant pass make every moment, every training session, and every challenge worth it.

As the final whistle blows, you gather the girls into a huddle at the centre of the field, the bright sunlight casting a warm glow around your circle. You can see a mixture of emotions on their faces, some tired but determined, others a bit disappointed, but all eager to hear your thoughts.

You begin with a smile, looking at each of them with pride.

"Alright, team, gather around!" you say, your voice filled with encouragement. "I want you to know how proud I am of each and every one of you out there today. You showed great spirit and determination, and that's what counts."

One of the girls, Sarah, raises her hand eagerly. "Coach, I scored my first goal today! I was so excited!"

You beam at her. "That's fantastic, Sarah! Your goal was brilliant. You showed excellent positioning and a great sense of timing. Keep it up!"

Mia chimes in, "Coach, I made some good passes, didn't I?"

You nod appreciatively. "Absolutely, Mia. Your passes were spot on. You demonstrated great vision on the field, and that's a crucial skill."

As you continue, you make sure to acknowledge the efforts of each player, whether it was a solid defensive play, a remarkable save by the goalkeeper, or simply the teamwork they displayed throughout the game. You want them all to feel valued and recognized for their contributions.

"Team," you say, "remember, winning is great, but it's not the only measure of success. We learn and grow from every game, whether we win or lose. Today, we saw incredible teamwork, and that's something we can always build on."

Sophie, one of the quieter girls, raises her hand tentatively. "Coach, what can we improve on?"

You smile at her eagerness to learn. "Sophie, that's an excellent question. We can work on our passing accuracy and defensive positioning. But remember, it's all part of the journey. We're here to improve together."

The huddle breaks with a round of applause for their efforts, and the girls leave the field with their heads held high.

You finish up with the girls' soccer practice, feeling a sense of fulfilment from a productive day on the field. However, you're also aware of the impending challenge of getting home, thanks to your recent leg injury. You remember that your best friend, Jamie, had promised you a ride, and that brings a sigh of relief.

You spot Jamie leaning against his car, a friendly grin on his face as he watches you approaching. His presence is like a beacon of support. As you get closer, you can't contain your excitement and rush over to him, throwing your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Jamie!" you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine joy. "It's so good to see you! How was your holiday?"

Jamie returns the hug with enthusiasm, his voice laced with excitement. "Oh, it was amazing! You wouldn't believe the places I got to explore and the food I got to try. But honestly, I've missed you so much!"

You step back from the hug, both of you wearing wide smiles. "I missed you too, buddy. And thanks a million for coming to pick me up. You're a lifesaver."

Jamie chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "No problem at all, mate. That's what best friends are for, right? Let's get you home comfortably."

As you both hop into the car, the conversation flows effortlessly. You catch up on the latest news, sharing stories and laughter like you always do. The car ride feels like a warm reunion, and you can't help but be grateful for having such a dependable and caring friend like Jamie.

As the car ride continues, Jamie glances over at you with curiosity. "So, what are your plans for tonight?"

You lean back in the comfortable car seat, enjoying the familiarity of the conversation.

"Well," you start, "first things first, I need to head home and have a quick shower. I've been running around with the girls all afternoon, and I must be a bit of a mess."

Jamie chuckles, understanding the need for a post-practice refresh. "Sounds like a plan. And then?"

You smile, thinking about your precious daughter. "After the shower, it's time to drop Lilah off at her dad's place. She's with my sister right now."

Jamie nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "How's she doing these days?"

You sigh, a mix of emotions flooding over you. "She's growing up so fast, Jamie. Four years old already, and she's as curious and energetic as ever. It's a bit tough juggling everything, but it's all worth it for her."

Delilah Rae (Y/L/N)-Cooper.

When you were twenty five, to celebrate the new year you had gone out with Jamie, his boyfriend as well as your sister, the four of you had gone up London to see the fireworks at the Thames.

That was where you met Levi Cooper.

The two of you spent the night together after both of you had a bit too much to drink at the club, you kept catching each other's eyes from across the rooms, his blue coloured eyes locking onto yours and the rest was history.

The two of you did keep in touch after your impromptu meeting, well you suppose you had to seeing as you were having his baby. The one night you spent together had given the two of you an eighteen year commitment.

He was shocked at first that you were pregnant, but he was nothing but supportive, every prenatal class he was by your side, every scan he was sat at the side of the bed and when your waters broke and you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl he sobbed.

The two of you did try to date, but it just seemed that the two of you were just better at being friends.

He was engaged now to a lovely women named Eloise.

Jamie gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder. "You're an amazing parent, you know that, right?"

You blush a little at the compliment. "Thanks, J. I'm just trying to do my best for her."

As the car ride with Jamie continues, he leans over with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, guess what? The high school reunion is tonight!"

You immediately shake your head with a firm resolve. "No way, Jamie. I'm not going to that."

Jamie raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh, come on! It could be a blast. We haven't seen some of those folks in ages!"

You let out a sigh, knowing that Jamie won't easily accept your refusal. "Jamie, there's really no reason for me to go. I've moved on from all that high school drama."

He grins, persistent in his efforts. "But it's a chance to catch up, see where everyone ended up, share stories..."

You shoot him a knowing look. "Jamie, we've got Facebook for that. Besides, I'm perfectly content with my life now."

Jamie continues to plead, "Think of the nostalgia, the old memories..."

You chuckle, shaking your head again. "Nostalgia isn't enough to make me want to relive those awkward teenage years, Jamie."

He's not giving up easily, leaning closer and trying a different approach. "What if I promise to be your wingman all night?"

You raise an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "And what, introduce me to every person there as 'the one who didn't want to come'?"

You arrive home with Jamie, your key poised to open the door. You're eager to see your precious daughter, Delilah, who's been anxiously waiting for your return after her day with your sister. The door swings open, and before you can even step inside, you hear the pattering of little feet.

"Mommy!" Delilah exclaims, her face lighting up with pure joy as she runs straight into your open arms.

You scoop her up, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around your neck, and you pepper her face with a thousand kisses. "Oh, my sweet Lilah-bug, I missed you so much!"

Delilah giggles, her laughter filling the room. "I missed you too, Mommy!"

Jamie watches the heartwarming reunion with a smile, his eyes filled with warmth and happiness.

"Hey, Delilah," he says, crouching down to her level. "I missed you too."

Delilah looks at Jamie with curiosity, her innocent eyes studying him for a moment before breaking into a shy smile. "Hi, JJ!”

As you enjoy the family reunion with Delilah and Jamie, your sister Abigail walks into the room with a warm smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You return her smile. "It was good, Abi. The footy practice went well, and now I'm just happy to be home."

Abigail looks at Jamie with a playful grin. "And what about you, Jamie? How have you been?"

Jamie chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it was a lot of travelling, but it's all worth it to spend time with these two."

You nods in agreement, then turns you attention to Delilah. "So, sweetheart, what did you and Auntie Abigail do today?"

Delilah's eyes light up with excitement. "We played in the park, and Auntie Abigail pushed me on the swings really high! It was so much fun!"

Abigail laughs, ruffling Delilah's hair affectionately. "That's right, we had a blast at the park. And afterward, we baked some delicious cookies, didn't we?"

Delilah nods vigorously. "Yep! I helped mix the dough, and we even had chocolate chips in them!"

You all gather in the cosy living room, Delilah on your lap, her blonde curly hair tickling your fingers as you brush through it. Abigail breaks the comfortable silence with a practical question, "So, what time does Lilah need to be at Levi's?"

You glance at your watch and reply, "Half past six should be good."

Jamie, ever the talkative one, chimes in enthusiastically, "Perfect! That works because the reunion starts at seven!"

Abigail's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. " reunion? What are you talking about?"

You roll your eyes playfully at Jamie, thinking he's just teasing. "He's talking rubbish, as usual."

But Jamie jumps in again, this time with a more serious tone. "No, seriously, there's a school reunion tonight."

Abigail looks genuinely surprised. "A school reunion? Why wasn't I informed?"

You sigh, not thrilled with the idea. "Honestly, I'd rather just sit at home and relax."

Abigail, ever the one to push you out of your comfort zone, raises an eyebrow. "Come on, it might be fun! You need a good night out."

You let out a reluctant sigh, knowing your sister's right. "Alright, fine, we'll think about it."

Abigail's eyes twinkle mischievously. "Who knows, you might even rekindle something with a certain someone."

You give her a knowing look, realising exactly who she's referring to. "Abigail, we broke up in high school. It's been ages."

Jamie joins in with a laugh. "You never know, sparks might fly."

In the midst of the bustling high school hallway, you stand at your locker, neatly organising your books for the next class. The sound of lockers slamming and laughter fills the air, creating a lively atmosphere.

Suddenly, you feel two warm arms wrap around your waist from behind, and the familiar scent of Harry Styles' aftershave instantly captures your senses.

With a playful giggle, you turn your head to the side, your eyes meeting his.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Styles," you tease, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Harry's emerald green eyes twinkle mischievously as he leans in closer. "Couldn't resist sneaking up on you, m’darlin’. Y’look t’cute sorting y’books."

You blush at the compliment, playfully batting your eyelashes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

Harry's lips brush against your earlobe as he whispers, "Everywhere, y’say? might have t’take advantage ‘f’that."

You can't help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the charming boy who has stolen your heart. "Harry Styles, you're incorrigible."

He grins, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Only when it comes to you, babe."

/ /

Harry stood in his cosy kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as he watched the snow gently fall outside the window. It had been a while since he'd seen Ellis, his best mate from high school, and he was glad for the company on this chilly day.

They had grabbed coffee together in the morning, before deciding to have a little walk around the twin they both grew up in.

Ellis sipped her own coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter, looking thoughtful. "you remember the school reunion is tonight, right? What time is it starting?"

Harry stirred his coffee, a pensive expression on his face. "Ye’, m’remember. S’supposed t��be at seven, but m’not sure if m’gonna go."

Ellis raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Not going? Why not?"

Harry sighed, his gaze distant as he remembered the old days. "I don't know, El. S’been ages since I've seen those people. M’not sure I'll fit in anymore."

Ellis chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. "Mate, you're Harry Styles. You could fit in anywhere."

Harry gave a small smile but still seemed uncertain. "S’not about fitting in, really. S’just... v’moved on from that time in m’life, y’know?"

Ellis nodded in understanding. "I get it, Haz. But it could be fun to catch up, see how everyone's doing."

Harry considered his friend's words. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

As the snow continued to fall outside, Harry contemplated the idea of attending the high school reunion. It was a chance to reconnect with old friends and revisit memories, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd truly find his place in a world that had changed so much since those school days.

You sit in your cozy bedroom, the soft glow of natural light filtering in through the curtains, as you prepare to apply your makeup. Your vanity mirror reflects your anticipation, and you're ready to transform your look for the day.

With a steady hand, you pick up your favorite foundation and begin to blend it evenly across your skin, creating a flawless canvas. As you work, you can't help but appreciate the therapeutic rhythm of the makeup application process.

Next, your eyes catch the eyeshadow palette you've chosen for today's look. With precision, you carefully sweep the hues across your eyelids, creating a captivating blend of colors that complements your style.

You reach for your mascara, preparing to enhance your lashes, making your eyes pop and adding a touch of allure to your gaze. Each stroke brings you one step closer to the final result you envision.

A hint of blush adds a healthy flush to your cheeks, while a sweep of your favorite lipstick completes your look. You can't help but smile as you admire the transformation you've achieved, feeling confident and ready to take on the day.

Your boyfriend at the time, is lounging on your bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. It's one of those mornings after he stayed over, and you're getting ready for school, sitting at your vanity and applying makeup.

As you focus on your makeup routine, you can't help but hear Harry huffing behind you. You ignore it at first, thinking it's just one of his playful quirks. But when he huffs again, you can't help but turn and ask, "What's your issue, Harry?"

He shifts on the bed, looking earnestly at you. "Y’don't need makeup, y’know. Y’already beautiful."

You smile, appreciating his sentiment. "Thanks, baby. But makeup just makes me feel better about myself."

He's not willing to let it go, and he comes up behind you, draping his arms over your shoulders and leaning down so both of you are in view of the vanity mirror. "Seriously, y’don't need it. Y’stunning without it."

You meet his gaze in the mirror, his green eyes filled with genuine affection.

He takes a makeup wipe from your vanity, turning your chair around so that you're facing him. With a slow, deliberate motion, he starts wiping away the makeup from your face. His touch is gentle, and his eyes never leave yours.

As the last traces of makeup disappear, he smiles softly. "See, there y’are, just as beautiful as I knew y’be."

You can't help but laugh, appreciating his effort to make you feel special.

He presses a loving kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped around you. "And that's why I love you."

Just as you're finishing up, your daughter, with her unruly curls and a cheeky smile that reminds you so much of her father, rushes into the room. She stands at your side, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You scoop her up and place her on your lap, where she traces the outline of your lipstick with her tiny finger before gently tracing the eyeliner around your eyes.

With a tilt of her head, Delilah grins mischievously. "Mummy, you don't need makeup."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, reminding you of a time long ago when a certain someone had said the same thing. A sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you can't help but smile at the memory.

You ask her, "Why do you say that, sweetheart?"

Delilah looks up at you with those big, innocent eyes. "Because you're beautiful."

As Delilah kisses your nose, you can't help but smile at her sweet gesture.

Levi, her father, may not be present at this moment, but you're grateful for the strong co-parenting relationship you have, which allows Delilah to feel loved and secure.

However, as Delilah's innocent words about your beauty echo in your mind, you can't shake the feeling of déjà vu, reminiscent of your first love, Harry Styles. Your heart aches at the memory of the deep connection you once shared with him, even though you're no longer together.

As you make your way down the stairs, Jamie is waiting for you, dressed in a sharp suit and a warm smile.

Jamie had offered to drive you to Levi's, knowing that your heels might not be the best for walking. He greets you with a friendly grin and says, "Looking stunning, as always."

The dress that Jamie had picked out of your closet was an emerald green one that hugged your body in all the right places. You didn’t exactly know what the colour theme for the Masquerade party was, but you trusted your best friend with his decisions.

You chuckle and adjust Delilah in your arms. "Thanks, J. And thanks for the lift. It's much appreciated."

Delilah, clutching her beloved bunny, looks up at Jamie with a bright smile. "Hi, JJ!"

Jamie leans in and ruffles her hair playfully. "Hey DD. Are you ready to have some fun with your dad?"

Delilah nods eagerly, her excitement contagious. You feel a pang of nostalgia thinking about the family dynamics that have evolved over the years.

The three of you leave the front door behind, the night sky gently illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. You carefully place Delilah in the car seat that Jamie has in his car, a familiar seat from their countless playdates together. Her eyes are droopy, the weight of a busy day finally catching up to her. You press a loving kiss to her forehead before making your way to the passenger front seat.

Jamie takes the wheel, and the car pulls out of the driveway, embarking on the journey to Levi's place. The cityscape passes by in a blur of lights, creating a serene backdrop to the silent drive. The gentle hum of the engine and the occasional soft lullaby playing on the radio are the only sounds that fill the car.

Delilah's eyelids grow heavier with each passing mile, her breathing steady as she drifts into a peaceful slumber. You glance over at her, a feeling of warmth and contentment washing over you as you watch your daughter sleep, knowing that you're on your way to reunite her with her father. The car moves steadily through the quiet night, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into your own thoughts

As Jamie pulls the car to a stop outside Levi's house, you turn to him and explain, "I'll just five minutes. I need to get her sorted."

Jamie nods in understanding, giving you an assuring smile. "Take your time. I'll wait right here."

You unbuckle your sleeping daughter from her car seat, noticing how her head has lulled to the side, and her tiny thumb has found its way to her mouth. Gently, you lift her into your arms, making sure not to jostle her. She snuggles closer to you, still lost in the embrace of a deep slumber.

Carefully, you shut the car door behind you as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her peaceful rest. With Delilah cradled on your hip, you make your way towards Levi's house,

You stop outside Levi's front door, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. You wait patiently, giving it a minute and a half before the door finally swings open. Levi stands there, leaning against the door frame, a smile of genuine warmth spreading across his face as he sees the two of you.

His eyes light up when he notices Delilah fast asleep in your arms. He reaches out to take her gently, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. Delilah instinctively snuggles in closer to his neck, her tiny thumb still in her mouth.

Levi, cradling her in his arms, starts to sway his hips back and forth, a nostalgic smile on his face as if she were a baby all over again. He whispers, "Hey, little one, how long have you been asleep?"

You reply with a soft chuckle, "She fell asleep on the car ride over."

Levi continues to sway, his voice filled with tenderness. "Oh, my sweet girl. I've missed you so much."

Levi smiles as he looks at you and compliments your dress, "You look beautiful in that dress. Are you heading somewhere nice tonight?"

You chuckle, knowing that he's well aware of your reluctance. "Jamie's dragging me to a school reunion."

Levi laughs in response. "Ah, I see. Well, you'll survive, I'm sure."

You smile and then turn your attention to Delilah, who's fussing in his arms, shifting her head from one side to the other. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to her nose and whisper, "I love you, sweetie."

Looking back at Levi, you speak with genuine concern, "If she needs me or anything happens, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

Levi nods with understanding. "Of course, you know I will. Have a good time tonight, and we'll see you on Sunday when you pick her up."

With that, you reluctantly leave Delilah in Levi's care, trusting that they will have a wonderful weekend together while you attend the reunion with Jamie.

You make your way over to Jamie's waiting car and get inside, letting out a deep sigh as you settle into the seat. You turn to him and say with a hint of resignation, "Let's just get this over with, Jamie. Drive, please."

As the engine revs to life, you brace yourself for the upcoming school reunion, knowing that it's not exactly your idea of a fun evening.

Harry stands outside the school, his eyes fixed on the familiar building that holds a lifetime of memories. As he gazes at the entrance, a million images flood his mind, and they all seem to revolve around you.

He remembers the day he mustered up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, his heart pounding in his chest as he nervously stammered out the question. It was a moment of pure happiness when you said yes, and he couldn't stop grinning for days.

Then, there's that vivid memory of the night he finally confessed his love for you, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, afraid he might lose you if he didn't say it right then. Your eyes had sparkled with joy, and you'd hugged him tightly, saying you loved him too.

But there's also the painful memory, the one he's tried to push to the back of his mind for so long. The day he didn't turn up, the day he walked out of your life, leaving you none the wiser about the future that awaited him. It had been the hardest decision he'd ever made, but he believed it was the only way to chase his dreams.

His best mate, Ellis, notices his distant demeanor and approaches him with concern. She furrows her brows and asks, "Haz, everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of nostalgia that has settled upon him. "Do y’think she'll be ‘ere?"

Ellis studies him, her expression a mix of sympathy and uncertainty. "I'm not sure, Haz. She's hardly kept in touch with anyone since you left. She's started a whole new life."

Harry's heart aches at the reality of it all. The years that have passed, the choices he's made – they've all taken a toll on the life he once shared with you. It's a stark reminder of the chasm that has grown between them, and he can't help but feel a profound sense of regret.

As he stands there, Ellis places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, Haz, I know this is tough, but it's been years. People change, life moves on. Maybe it's time for both of you to see where you stand now."

Harry knows she's right, but the uncertainty gnaws at him. The thought of facing you after all this time, not knowing what to expect, fills him with anxiety. He's haunted by the memories of his past decisions – the day he walked away, the day he left you behind, oblivious to the superstar journey that awaited him.

His gaze remains fixed on the school's entrance, a mixture of hope and trepidation swirling within him. Deep down, he yearns for a chance to reconnect, to make amends for the pain he may have caused.

But as the minutes tick by, the fear that you've truly moved on and created a new life without him intensifies. Harry can't help but wonder if he's about to face the consequences of the choices he made long ago – choices that have left him with an overwhelming sense of longing and regret.

A sea of people surrounds him. The reunion is in full swing, and the familiar faces of former classmates and friends fill the courtyard. Laughter and chatter echo in the air, mingling with the strains of music playing softly in the background.

Groups of friends huddle together, sharing stories and reminiscing about their school days. Some are holding photographs, while others exchange yearbooks, a tangible link to their shared past.

Brightly lit string lights and decorations adorn the outdoor area, casting a warm and inviting glow over the gathering. Tables are set up with snacks and drinks, a makeshift bar where people gather to toast to old memories and new beginnings.

A live band plays a familiar tune, setting a nostalgic backdrop for the evening. Couples dance under the moonlit sky, their movements graceful and sentimental, lost in their own world of memories.

Ellis, sensing Harry's inner turmoil, gently asks, "Haz, should we go inside?"

He looks at her, his thoughts still heavy, and nods in agreement. With a deep breath, he reaches for the masquerade mask resting beside him and places it over his face. It's like a protective shield, concealing his emotions as he prepares to face the unknown.

Harry then links his arm with Ellis, who offers him a reassuring smile, and together, they enter the building. The vibrant sounds of the reunion wash over them as they step into the bustling venue, ready to confront the past and whatever it may hold.

The walk to the hall feels endless, each step stretching into an eternity. Harry's heart races in his chest, the rhythm of his breath quickening as his anticipation grows. He can feel a lump forming in his throat, threatening to choke him, but he refuses to let it deter him.

The closer he gets to the entrance, the more he becomes aware of the pounding in his chest, the deafening thud of every heartbeat echoing in his ears. His hands tremble slightly, and he can't shake the unease that courses through his veins.

As he finally steps inside the hall, he's met with a sudden hush that washes over the room like a wave. It feels as though time itself has slowed, and every eye in the room turns toward him. The weight of their collective gaze bears down on him, a silent judgement that's impossible to ignore.

He can sense the curiosity, the recognition in their faces as they try to place him in their memories. It's as if he's stepped into a world that he both longed for and feared, a world that has continued without him.

Harry takes a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he has left. The room seems to spin around him, and he wonders if he's made a colossal mistake.

You find yourself standing near the drinks table, a masquerade mask adorning your face, and Jamie by your side. Surprisingly, you're starting to actually enjoy yourself, despite your initial reluctance. The soft music in the background and the lively chatter of old friends create a pleasant ambiance.

You and Jamie are engaged in a friendly conversation, reminiscing about the past. You share a laugh as you recount the time you tried to get out of gym class by telling the teacher you had a sore throat.

"Remember that time I told the gym teacher I had a sore throat, and he said I didn't need my voice to play sports?" You chuckle, shaking your head at the memory.

Jamie grins and nods, "Oh, I remember. Classic move, but it didn't work out too well for you, did it?"

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. "No, it didn't. Ended up running laps instead."

Amid the lighthearted conversation with Jamie, the hall suddenly falls into a profound silence, prompting you to turn your head and see what has captured everyone's attention. It's as if time stands still in that moment, and your eyes meet a sight that you never expected.

There, bathed in the soft, romantic glow of the hall's lighting, stands your ex-boyfriend, your one true love – Harry Styles.

He's dressed impeccably in a green suit, a masquerade mask adorning his face. The mask conceals his emotions, but his presence is unmistakable, sending a ripple through the room.

Of course the two of you were matching.

You were a vision of elegance in your light grey prom dress. The dress flowed gracefully as you descended the stairs, every step feeling like a small journey towards an unforgettable night.

The anticipation was palpable as you made your way down. You knew it was a night that marked a new chapter, a night of celebration and hope. Your heart was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a beautiful cocktail of emotions that filled you to the brim.

And then you saw him. Harry, standing at the bottom of the stairs in a perfectly matching light grey suit. Time seemed to slow down as you took in the sight of him, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at the coincidence.

It was as if the universe had conspired to ensure that you and Harry were in perfect harmony. Matching in not just attire but in your hearts as well. The smile that adorned his face when he saw you was a sight to behold, and your heart swelled with affection.

Lydia, your mother, couldn't resist commenting on the adorable match. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she said, "Well, don't you two look adorable, matching in grey? It's like you were made for each other."

Harry's grin only grew wider as he extended his arm towards you, ready to escort you to the grand event.

"I guess we were," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and love.

As you took his arm, you shared a knowing look, an unspoken agreement that this night was not just about the dresses and suits, but the love that had brought you together.

Your heart leaps in your chest as memories flood back – the stolen glances in the hallways, the laughter shared in the cafeteria, the way he looked at you with that warmth in his eyes that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You watch as he moves gracefully through the crowd, a confident stride that betrays none of the turmoil that might be lurking beneath the surface. People part to make way for him, their eyes following his every move.

As your eyes remain fixed on Harry's approaching figure, your heart races and your words catch in your throat. You turn to Jamie, your voice trembling as you confide in him, "I knew I shouldn't have come, Jamie. Seeing him… all these feelings have just rushed back, and I'm not sure I can handle being in the same room as him."

Jamie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. "Hey, it's okay. We can leave anytime you want. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

You appreciate his understanding and support, but the turmoil within you is still palpable. The mix of emotions – the longing, the memories, the unresolved feelings – swirls around you, making it difficult to think clearly.

"I appreciate that, J," you reply, your voice steadier but still tinged with uncertainty. "I just need a moment to collect myself. Maybe this is an opportunity to finally confront the past."

With a deep breath, you turn your attention back to the reunion, knowing that you have a decision to make – to stay and face what lies ahead or to leave and continue the life you've built without Harry.

Harry makes his way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with a few familiar faces along the way. His heart races as he moves closer to the corner of the room where Ellis stands. Once there, he doesn't waste any time and leans in to speak softly to her, "Do y’see ‘er?"

Ellis follows his gaze, scanning the room before nodding and saying, "Yeah, she's over at the bar with that guy, Jamie, from chemistry."

Harry's breath catches in his throat as he locks eyes with you for a brief moment. The connection is electric, and he can't help but feel a rush of emotions flood back.

He turns his attention back to Ellis, his voice filled with uncertainty. "Do y’think I should go over there and talk t’er?"

Ellis places a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering her advice. "Maybe give it a little time, Harry. Let things settle for a bit. You'll know when the right moment comes."

Harry nods, torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of making things awkward.

Later in the evening, you find yourself engaged in a lively conversation with an old classmate named Roxy. The two of you are catching up on everything and anything that has happened in your lives since school.

Roxy animatedly shares stories of her career, her travels, and her recent adventures, and you reciprocate by telling her about your journey into football coaching and your beautiful daughter, Delilah.

The camaraderie and laughter flow freely as you reminisce about the antics you got up to during your school days, and you can't help but appreciate the sense of nostalgia that hangs in the air. It's moments like these that make you realize the value of rekindling old friendships and sharing the experiences that have shaped your lives.

You excuse yourself from the conversation with Roxy, telling her that you're just going to the toilet. Inside, the bathroom is a haven of solitude amidst the bustling reunion. You attend to your business, the silence offering a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions outside.

As you step out of the bathroom and start to make your way back, lost in your thoughts, you collide with something firm and unyielding. Your heart leaps to your throat as you look up, only to be met with a pair of familiar green eyes that you've missed deeply yet haven't at all. It's the man who still owns your heart, Harry Styles.

The world seems to stop around you as you lock eyes with him, the years of separation and unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It's an encounter that leaves you feeling both awkward and full of angst, a moment you never thought you'd have to confront, and one that could change everything.

And as you stand there, face to face with Harry, you can't help but wonder if this unexpected collision is a twist of fate, a chance to finally address the feelings that have remained unresolved for so long.

You shuffled past Harry, your heart pounding in your chest, the encounter outside the bathroom sending waves of uncertainty through you. It was as if time had reversed, and the emotions you had tried to tuck away came rushing back.

As you walked away from him, you couldn't bring yourself to look back. The weight of the past and the complexities of your emotions left you feeling conflicted and vulnerable. You knew that seeing Harry again was going to stir up old feelings, but you hadn't anticipated how intense it would be.

Harry stood there, watching you walk away, his heart heavy with disappointment. He had hoped for a warm greeting, a chance to talk and maybe find some closure, but the way you had avoided looking at him stung. It was as if he didn't even exist in your world, and that thought was more painful than he had imagined.

He let out a sigh, running a trembling hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. It was difficult for him to comprehend that you could just walk away without acknowledging him, without even a brief exchange of words. The reunion had been his chance to reconnect, to possibly mend what had been broken, but it seemed like that opportunity had slipped away.

In a mix of emotions and frustration, Harry decided to step into the men's bathroom, leaning against the sink for a moment. He tried to process the anguish he felt at your avoidance, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you might still want to talk and make sense of the unresolved feelings that lingered between you.

You hurriedly returned to the bar, your heart still racing from the encounter with Harry. The vodka you ordered was a lifeline, a familiar friend that would help you navigate the unexpected twists of the night.

The bartender, efficient and understanding, prepared your drink without a word. As he handed it to you, you offered a curt nod of gratitude and took a long, fortifying sip. The strong, bittersweet taste provided a momentary reprieve from the turmoil of emotions that had surged within you.

In the midst of your solitude at the bar, Ellis, a former classmate, approached with a soft, friendly smile. You acknowledged her with a tight-lipped expression, your eyes conveying a mixture of apprehension and fatigue. The reunion had thrust you into a whirlwind of nostalgia, and now, the complexity of your feelings threatened to overwhelm you.

Ellis, eager to bridge the gap, tried to initiate a conversation. "How have you been?" she asked, her voice gentle and empathetic.

You hesitated for a brief moment, the question prompting a whirlwind of thoughts. How could you summarize the years that had passed, the heartache, the joy, the transformation of your life, all in one sentence?

Finally, you responded, "Life's been alright." It was a carefully worded answer, a guarded response that didn't reveal the depths of emotion and experience you'd encountered.

The conversation seemed to stumble into an awkward silence, the weight of the past and the unresolved emotions hanging heavily between you. You took another sip of your vodka, the familiar warmth spreading through your body, offering a temporary refuge from the discomfort of the moment.

Ellis, perceptive and caring, couldn't help but sense the underlying bitterness in your tone. She leaned in closer, her expression filled with concern, and admitted, "I know Harry feels really guilty about leaving you."

Your response was laced with bitterness.

"Yeah, I bet he does," you sighed, the memories of the past and the heartache still very much alive in your mind.

Ellis tapped her nails lightly against the bar, deep in thought.

"Maybe you should talk to him, let him explain everything," she suggested, her words gentle yet persuasive. "You might find some closure, or who knows, even rekindle what once was."

You let out a sceptical chuckle, your eyes scanning the room, but your thoughts lingering on the man you'd tried so hard to forget.

"Why should I?" you questioned, the weight of years of unanswered questions heavy on your heart.

Ellis's voice was soothing and earnest as she continued, "Because, deep down, I know for a fact that the two of you still have feelings for each other. Sometimes, facing the past is the only way to move forward."

The idea of confronting Harry and revisiting the emotions you'd buried felt both daunting and enticing.

You were seated at your desk in math class. The room was filled with the usual chatter, but your focus was on something entirely different. Your crush, seated a few rows ahead, had a way of capturing your attention.

Every time you glanced in his direction, you seemed to catch his gaze, and your heart fluttered. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with a tinge of nervousness. Math class was suddenly a lot more interesting.

Beside you sat Ellis, who happened to be your crush's best friend. She observed your interactions with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned over and whispered, "You know, I don't get why the two of you just don't admit your feelings."

You blushed, surprised by her comment.

"What? I don't even think he likes me like that," you admitted, trying to downplay your infatuation.

Ellis shook her head with a chuckle. "Trust me, he does. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not looking. You're both just too stubborn to admit it."

You finished the last of your vodka just as the DJ's voice filled the air, announcing the start of the slow dance. The music shifted into a gentle melody, setting a romantic ambiance that enveloped the room.

As you looked around, you noticed the eager faces of the reunion attendees, everyone seeking out a partner for the dance. Friends and acquaintances paired up, swaying to the music, but you couldn't help but notice that no one approached Harry. It was as if they were all a bit intimidated by his presence, the weight of his fame making him an enigma to most.

Harry stood in the corner, a lone figure amidst the couples on the dance floor. There was a vulnerability in his expression that was rarely seen, a hint of longing that was both endearing and bittersweet. It was clear that he was just as much a part of the reunion as anyone else, yet he remained untouched, like a distant star in the night sky.

With a deep sigh and a final adjustment of your clammy hands against your dress, you made a resolute decision. The pull toward Harry was undeniable, and you couldn't ignore the feeling any longer. It was time to face what had been left unresolved for far too long.

You began to navigate the room, and at first, he remained oblivious to your approach. It wasn't until you stopped right in front of him that he looked up, a bewildered expression in his eyes. In his gaze, you sensed surprise, almost disbelief, as if he had convinced himself that you didn't want to be near him.

You held your hand out, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and said, "Want to be my dance partner? I think it's time we talked."

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken emotions and the weight of the past. Harry's surprise slowly gave way to a flicker of hope, his eyes meeting yours as he contemplated your offer.

You took Harry's hand and gently guided him to the dance floor, the anticipation and uncertainty palpable in the air. As the music started to play, a soft, melodic tune that filled the room, you both hesitated before finally finding your place on the floor.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingertips grazing the soft hairs at the nape. Harry reciprocated by placing his hands on your waist, his touch light and tentative. The proximity felt both foreign and familiar, and you started swaying to the music, finding a rhythm that was uniquely your own.

The silence between you was awkward, filled with words left unsaid, emotions unexpressed. It was as if the weight of the years apart, the unanswered questions, and the unspoken feelings had manifested in this dance.

You couldn't help but steal glances at each other, each fleeting look revealing a complex mix of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a hint of uncertainty.

The two of you swayed to the music in the awkward embrace of the slow dance, caught in a moment that had been a decade in the making. As the silence grew more uncomfortable, Harry finally broke it, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history.

"How have you been?" he asked, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for a glimpse of the girl he used to know.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal.

"Life's been fine," you replied, the words feeling both superficial and loaded with unspoken complexities.

Feeling the tension in the air, you decided to shift the focus.

"And how's it living the life of a rockstar?" you asked, trying to break through the awkwardness. It was a loaded question, but one that seemed safe enough.

Harry's expression tightened, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "S’a lot. Busy, y’know. But s’what I've always wanted."

As you pressed Harry for answers, the weight of the past seemed to hang in the air.

"Why did you leave, Harry?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and pain. "You didn't say anything. You just disappeared."

Harry sighed, and as he met your gaze, his eyes held a hint of regret.

"M’didn't want t’hurt ye’," he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

The words hit you with a mix of emotions.

"You didn't want to hurt me?" you repeated, the realisation sinking in.

Just as he seemed about to elaborate, your phone rang, displaying Levi's name on the screen.

The phone call from Levi seemed to have come at an inopportune moment, breaking the fragile conversation between you and Harry. With a sigh, you held up a finger as if to say, "I need to take this." You turned and walked away from the slow dance, your steps guided by the beckoning ring of your phone.

As you distanced yourself from Harry and the dance floor, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment. The unanswered questions and unspoken feelings lingered between you, a weight you had carried for far too long.

In the crowd, Harry caught Jamie's eyes, and their silent exchange was filled with unspoken understanding. Jamie nodded in the direction you had left, mouthing the words,

"Go after her." The silent encouragement was a reminder that some things were worth pursuing, even after a decade of silence and distance.

As you stepped outside the venue to take the call, your heart raced with concern. You quickly answered the phone, bringing it up to your ear, and without preamble, you asked, "Is everything okay with Delilah?"

Levi's voice came through the line, reassuring but tinged with understanding. "Yeah, she's fine. She woke up just now and started crying because she didn't get to speak to you before bed."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Levi. Put her on the phone. I need to talk to her."

The phone was passed to Delilah, and her voice, small and tearful, reached your ear. "Mummy?"

Your heart ached as you replied, "Hey, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm sorry I missed our bedtime chat. I love you so much."

Delilah's voice was still laced with sleepiness and a touch of uncertainty. "Love you too, Mummy. When are you coming back?"

You glanced back at the venue, where the reunion was still in full swing, and then back to the dark knight beyond. The choice you were about to make felt significant, not just for yourself but for your daughter as well. "I'll be back soon, baby. I promise. You be good for daddy, okay?"

As you finished your conversation with Delilah, ending with an "I love you," you hung up the phone and took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your choices bearing down on you. The brisk night air provided a welcome contrast to the warm and crowded venue behind you.

Just then, Harry walked outside, and the timing was uncanny. He caught the tail end of your call, hearing your affectionate words to whoever was on the phone. A wave of mixed emotions washed over him. He thought he had missed his chance, that you had moved on with your life and no longer needed him.

Turning around, you were startled to find Harry standing there in the shadows. His sudden appearance caught you off guard, and you let out a little jump in surprise.

Harry, concern etched across his features, asked, "S’everything alright? Y’looked panicked when y’saw y’phone."

You quickly collected yourself, offering a reassuring smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just needed to answer it without the loud music," you explained, hoping to quell any worries.

Harry, seemingly relieved, asked, "Was that y’boyfriend?"

With a sigh, you shook your head. "No, not my boyfriend. It was my daughter."

The silence that followed was heavy, and Harry's eyes widened in realisation.

You were sprawled out in Harry's garden, a patchwork of the evening sky painted with shades of deep blue and a tapestry of stars, twinkling like a thousand distant dreams. The soft scent of flowers and freshly mowed grass wafted through the air, blending with the comforting scent of Harry's cologne.

As you lay in his arms, cocooned in the embrace of young love, the world beyond seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you and the vast expanse of the night. The grass cradled your bodies like a feathered mattress, a canvas for the dreams that flowed freely.

Amidst this tranquil backdrop, Harry's voice broke the tranquil silence.

"Do y’ever want t’ave kids?" he asked, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. His words were like a gentle breeze, laden with curiosity and the promise of an uncertain future.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes meeting him in the dim light. A smile graced your lips as you replied,

"Yeah, I'd love to have kids someday. Especially our kids." The words tumbled out with an ease that only young love could inspire, a declaration of your shared hopes and dreams.

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and he kissed your forehead, his warm breath mingling with the cool night air.

"Our kids," he repeated softly, his voice filled with promise and the intoxicating scent of first love. In that moment, under the canvas of a starlit sky, you both painted a picture of a future filled with shared adventures and laughter, not yet aware of the challenges and heartaches that lay ahead.

You lay there, sharing your dreams and aspirations, your hearts intertwined like the constellations above.

Harry looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Y’ave a daughter?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You nodded, the weight of the past and present pressing heavily upon you.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "She's four."

The question hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. Harry's voice broke the silence, asking, "Are y’with the dad?"

Your eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration. You looked at him with a hurt expression before saying, "Is that all you care about? Whether I'm with her dad or not?"

Harry, seemingly flustered, quickly responded, "No, f’course not."

The anger and hurt simmered beneath the surface as you shook your head, the words pouring out with the force of years of unspoken resentment. "You lost the right to care about who I'm with or my life a long time ago when you up and left. You didn't even deserve to know that I had a daughter."

Harry's face contorted with regret as your words hit him like a tidal wave. The argument had grown intense, and the emotions that had been suppressed for years were now surging to the surface.

He took a step closer to you, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he finally said, "M’sorry."

Your eyes met his, but the anger still smoldered within you.

"Sorry isn't going to change anything," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and pain.

As he began to speak, his voice wavered with raw emotion.

"M’sorry that I left ye," he admitted, his words tinged with guilt and sorrow. "But I knew f’a fact that y’wouldn't want t’live the life with a rockstar, a life where y’hardly see me."

Your confusion and worry grew as you stood on Harry's doorstep, knocking anxiously.

When Harry's mother answered the door, her expression was sombre. You immediately asked, "Where's Harry? He was supposed to meet me today."

His mother hesitated for a moment before delivering the news that would shatter your world. "Harry didn't tell you? He's left, dear. He left early this morning to head to London."

You blinked, struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation.

"But when will he be back?" you implored, your voice trembling.

His mother's gaze remained sympathetic, but her words were final. "He won't be coming back, love. He's a part of One Direction now, and their tours are about to begin."

You knew he was part of the band, you had gone to a few live shows and even looked after him after the band finished in Third, when all he wanted was you.

He never told you about a tour, about anything, although you noticed that he was on his phone quite a lot, you just thought he was playing that stupid game.

But you must have been wrong.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, and the initial shock gave way to a growing sense of despair.

"Why didn't he tell me?" you managed to stammer out, your voice cracking as you tried to understand.

You had thought your relationship was built on trust and communication.

His mother's sympathetic gaze only deepened the emotional turmoil you were experiencing.

"I think he didn't want to hurt you," she offered gently. "This opportunity means a lot to him."

Too late for that.

Your mind raced with a million questions. How had everything changed so suddenly? What would this mean for your future together? You couldn't imagine life without Harry by your side.

"He's been practising with the band for weeks now," Harry's mother continued, "and their tours are about to begin. It's a big chance for him, and he didn't want to hold himself back."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of sorrow, confusion, and frustration. You had never expected this turn of events, and the sense of abandonment was overwhelming.

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air. Harry continued, his gaze locked onto yours,

"T’band was just starting out, and I knew I'd be on the road, seeing y’less and less. I didn't want t’hurt ye."

The argument, once fueled by anger, seemed to transform into a tumultuous sea of emotions. Your heart ached as you listened to his words, realizing that he had walked away not out of indifference, but out of love—or what he had believed was love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you heard Harry's confession, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the anger and resentment that had fueled your argument. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice, and replied, "I didn't get to choose what life I wanted to live. I wanted to be with you, but you made that choice for me."

Harry's eyes glistened with remorse as he implored, "I wanted t’protect ye’ t’keep y’from a life that would hurt ye."

Your voice trembled as you spoke, the tears now flowing freely.

"The only life I wanted to live was one with you, but then you up and left me, our relationship," you said, your voice breaking as you confronted the years of pain that had been buried deep within.

Harry's response was a whisper of regret. "When I auditioned, y’had t’walk out halfway through because y’didn't do well in the crowd."

At this, your emotions spiraled, and you couldn't contain the rush of memories and feelings that overwhelmed you. You cried as you defended yourself and the relationship you had once cherished. "I was scared, Harry, scared of the expectations, of the distance, but I still loved you. I didn't want to let you down, but you walked out on us, on me."

The weight of all the years of heartache and misunderstandings became too much to bear, and you started to sob uncontrollably. The tears flowed freely, and your body shook with the intensity of your emotions.

Without hesitation, Harry wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close, his chest becoming a sanctuary for your broken heart. His voice, gentle and soothing, whispered into your ear, "M’so sorry, m’love. I'll spend the rest f’m’life making it up t’you."

Amidst the tears and the weight of unspoken words, your voice quivered as you finally found the strength to speak.

"Harry, you don't understand how hard it was...how hard it still is," you confessed, your words choked with emotion. "You were my everything, and you just left without even a word."

Harry's grip tightened, and his voice was filled with a deep sense of remorse. "I know, and I can't change the past, but I want t’make things right, t’be there f’ye."

You paused for a moment, looking up at him, your eyes red and swollen. "It's not just about me, Harry. I've moved on, and I have a daughter now. You just can't come back into my life like this."

His voice was filled with sincerity as he replied, "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes t’earn y’forgiveness and be a part f’y’life again."

The weight of the years hung heavy in the air, but as you held each other amidst the tears and the apologies, there was a glimmer of hope that perhaps, with time and effort, wounds could heal and a new chapter could begin.

[grievous-writes]

"Mimic" - Part One - Ramattra x Reader

Welp, I think this one is gonna be more then a one shot XD

You were one of the most single-handedly annoying Humans Ramattra had to endure, and given all of Humanity was on his knives’ edge, that was saying something. He had his mission, his war, his duty to all Omnic kind, and you as a Talon agent were making this muddled - A Human who was an ally, even if it was hesitantly so. 

Those who worked with the organization were a colorful bunch, some fatalistic and grim, and then others were like you with your flashy attitude and manic personality. Sombra and you were in that same vein, snarky and short, but you were different enough to stand out from the hacker by coming to Ramattra on your downtime. Where Sombra’s RnR was spent on her various data collections and pulling threads behind a monitor, you spent your time pestering the Omnic leader.

Your particular flavor of pestering Ramattra was your vocal mimicry, hence your code name “Mimic”. You loved to use his voice against him.

Ramatraa read your file, he knew it was a Blackwatch raid on your small town that caused you to loathe the sham that was Overwatch, and you had to survive a traumatic childhood by mimicking everything around you. You could be disguised as anything, from a dog limping down the street to a trash bin dumped over on the side of the road, and through this unique skill you would steal food for other orphaned kids in your town … or you’d pilfer heavy munitions for rebel cells. You were a survivor, durable and capable, and slightly insane. You had to be if you kept pestering him so often. 

You caught him several times when he was leaving meetings with the other Talon top-brass, appointed his escort to and from his ship, and would poke and poke and poke:

“So, got any plans to make people suffer as you have suffered today?” You asked with half of your voice being your own, and the other more embolden part being his tone repeated back to him. Uncanny. 

He tried to ignore you, walking onward as you trailed behind; sights set forward to his docked ship. 

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging!” Your smile was too wide for his taste.

He growled. “Surely you must have some task other than to bother me, Human.” 

“Oh, ouch, are we back to that sort of name calling, Omnic?” You frowned with a mischievous eye roll. “Come on, give me something to work with besides your broody mode. A laugh, a joke!”

“You are a joke.” Was his quick spitted response, and he felt rather juvenile after letting it out.

“Again, ouch.” You chuckled and he watched from the edge of his vision as your smile faded ever so. “How about this then - When you’re in a better mood, and if you have free time, come find me?”

Ramattra paused in mid step and snapped his head down to look at you. “And why would I seek you out?” 

“Cause I’m charming and fun to be around.” Your smile grew in full force; hands on your hips and head held high.Cocky and confident. 

The Omnic aimed to give another quick retort, a quick bit of his words, but he faltered. That’s what you wanted from him, banter and conversation - You were collecting more of his voice. And for what end? You were using him, just as how he was using you. 

“Enough of you, Mimic.” Ramattra’s tone was deep, level, and it made your stomach churn. His red glowing gaze was intense and you felt your grin falter once more. “Be gone and find your sport elsewhere. I have no interest in mingling with the likes of you.” 

“Likes of me? W-What’s that-?”

“You are an adventitious tool for Talon and nothing more. You are barely subpar above the hacker and sniper, nowhere near important enough to be mentioned by your leaders, and your only real task is playing babysitter to someone who could crush your skull in with a flex of my palm. It is trivial and a token task given to placate someone as desperate as you.” The Omic turned away from you and kept walking to the ramp of his waiting vessel, leaving you in your spot. 

Your feet refused to move and you couldn’t find any words. 

“Keep that in mind when you try to talk to me as if we are equals.” Was Ramattra’s last comment as he ducked out of sight, and you stood frozen as his ship flew away into the early evening’s orange sky. - - -

The last meeting with the Omnic got to the ears of Reaper, with some deck crew tattle-telling on you, and the masked man gave you a mouthful of not so passive threats to back down … and a new assignment that would take you away from Talon’s HQ for sometime. Talon couldn’t risk pissing off Null Sector, not for the amusement of a mid-range agent like yourself.

You were assigned to the ass end of nowhere, at a monitoring station high in the mountains of the western United States, where Talon was piggybacking off official comms channels around the world. You were set in charge of a small team that was meant to monitor air traffic and report anything useful. You were essentially tossed to the side, put in time out, and your skills and true talents left unused for months.

To anyone else, they’d have probably been pissed off and brooding about the new job, but you had been discarded before many times, lonely and forgotten, that this was a walk in the park. You had learned to mimic contentment, to fabricate joy, and masterfully masked your hurt emotions with diligence to your task. This was all first nature to you, with the founding blocks of your skills set by a little kid who had to fake it till they made it. You remembered a time where you had to literally mimic the sound of a dying bunny to lure in a starving cat, a fine meal you caught with your bare hands; just barely above the age of ten. 

You were so alone, so sad, and scared.

In all your bravado and flashy facade, you had thought that maybe Ramattra would understand what it meant to feel alone; given his situation. You couldn’t imagine the weight on his shoulders, his task was unique to him alone, but you could still sympathize. And you dared that maybe, just maybe, you told yourself, if you could make him “smile” there was hope that neither of you would be so lonely.

But alas, he pushed you away. Red tape was laid out and you were officially told to back off.

That didn’t stop you however from using the monitoring station to your own ends.

You had your own hacking subroutines that Sombra didn’t have access to, your own unique flavor of single mimicking, and you easily tapped into Null Sector and Talon communications. You at first used your connection to pinpoint where joint operations were held, then you would figure out who was in command and leading the missions, and eventually you got access to an area’s security system and watched the battles from the comfort of your desk via CCTVs. And unabashedly, you were keen on watching Ramattra work out in the field. 

You watched how dominating Ramattra was on the field, and was fascinated with how precise his attacks were. His defensiveness was calculated, his offense ruthless, and he would annihilate his enemies with efficacy. You couldn’t help but find yourself mimicking his voice and actions in the comfort of your room, playing out fighting along his side and working out in your head how you could aid the Omic in battle. You found yourself roleplaying as well, making fake conversations back and forth with his voice and your own in your throat. Silly things, funny things, a side of Ramattra you were making up in your spare time. 

You imagined him congratulating you on a task well done, complimenting you on your fighting style, and after a few close calls in combat, finally him taking that offer on spending time with you. But in reality, you were talking to yourself, sitting in a barely lit room and dreaming of something that would never come to be. It was pathetic. The solitary time in the mountains was getting to you, and you knew that there was a line between boredom and obsession. 

On the morning you set out to end the little spy network on Ramattra’s missions, you noticed something interesting stirring in the signals codding. The Omnic and a few other Talon agents were set out on a stealth mission to steal a payload out from Overewatch’s nose, and where Sombra was there to hack her way through doors and watch through the building’s cameras, you caught signs of another person’s work doing the same thing you were doing. They were mimicking Sombra’s signal and watching everything she was doing. You watched from a third eye position as Sombra’s attacks were being counter blanched, no doubt by someone in Overwatch, but you couldn’t act - Or else you’d be found out. It was one thing to have a little network insight like you had, and another thing to be found out. 

You could get into real trouble, like the sort that left a bullet in your brain knowing Talon, but as you watched the mission go to shit, as you saw Ramattra’s shield being beaten down again and again, all thoughts for self preservation fell away. 

“Fuck it.” You snarled under your breath and got to work. Your signal turned onto the Overwatch line and began to attack it from the preverbal backdoor in a sparking battle; counter-acting every move it tried to do, by acting as stray code within its own network. You began to cause internal damage into the Overwatch hacker’s routine, mimicking your way in and out of its trappings to have the program destroy its own code.  

The actions caught Sombra’s attention as she was trying to open a door for escape, a weird glare set to her features. “What the-?!”

“Sombra, the door!” Reaper shouted out between shotgun blasts.

“Yeah yeah, I’m getting there - Finally!” She barked back with a sudden smirk as the doors flew open. 

“What took so long?” Widowmaker asked through the commlink, snipping off targets from above.

“Eh, someone in Overwatch was being fancy. But - …” Sombra stood up and dashed through the door; leaving her remark unfinished. The others followed behind her, with Ramattra pulling in the rear as he used his tanky tactics to cover the retreat. 

Reaper hummed and looked to Windowmaker, who had joined the escape from the shadows of a corner and a glare was set to her cold, blue features. 

You watched the interactions going down, heard every word, and both you and Sombra knew that; she knew you were watching and listening now. The hacker was the closest thing you had to a “friend” within Talon, and you knew while she’d try to not toss you under the bus, she might not have the choice; self preservation. But you couldn’t help but feel sudden burning guilt as Reaper and Widowmarker set their eyes onto Sombra. They had their suspicions on her already, you knew that after the failed assassination a few months back, and this could be the perfect opportunity to get her. And by “get”, they could easily kill her if they wanted. 

You couldn’t hide. Your shame of spying on Ramattra was meager compared to seeing Somrba get shot down. Your own self preservation was tossed out the window in a foolish flick of our comm into their joined link. 

“Welcome to Talon Airlines, this is Mimic, and I’ll be your pilot this evening!” Your voice mimicked that of a cherry commercial pilot, masterfull masking your nervousness. The group took a collective halt, stunned for a moment, but none of you had time to talk or argue. “If you could kindly get going? I can’t copy their single for too much longer and Sombra needs to get out of there before the whole compound goes into lock down.” 

Wordlessly the team booked it for the exit, with Sombra leading the way to freedom as you battled on; holding the line. You managed to lock and close doors behind the fleeing troupe, blocking Overwatch agents from getting to them at every turn. You watched as the Talon transporter came flying down to pick up the team, with Ramattra taking a quick glance at a security camera. You watched his crimson glow lingered into the feed, and even as he ducked out of sight and into the safety of the ship, you could feel the red flare burned into your gaze; with no amount of blinking being rid of the speckles in your eyesight. 

You were so fucked.

---

Ramattra stood to one side of the debriefing room, silent and arms crossed, and he was impressed by how you held your ground while Reaper drilled into you. You didn’t flinch, didn’t show emotion. But it couldn’t last; you were only Human, after all. Sombra was brought in as well, the two of you getting an earful, but the masked-man’s ire was majorly on you. Rightfully so, of course. 

You were spying on special operations of some of Talon’s highest ranking agents, and that would've gotten any other soldier a death sentence. Your only saving grace was that you never recovered what you saw. And with Sombra’s input, it was understood your system was nearly flawless. The hacker would have improved things here and there, a few tweaks into your algorithm, but it was enough passive praise to get Reaper to cool down. 

And then there was Doomfist. He was as quiet as Ramattra during the entire interrogation, and only spoke after Reaper had stepped back from your person. Reaper was the gun and Doomfist was the person who could’ve pulled the preverbal trigger.

“Agent Mimic.” Akande began, his baritone voice calm as he was reading over a datapad. Ramattra recognized the passing words on the pad as your personal file, specifically the disciplinary record section. It was a clean slate. 

“Yes, Sir?” You asked at full attention. 

“I shall make this simple.” Doomfist put down the datapad onto a nearby table and began to walk his way around the room, slowly making it to your side. Ramattra was reading your vitals and while you were keeping collected on the outside, your heart rate was steadily rising. “While you have been a loyal soldier to Talon’s cause, and resourceful tool, and have skills I’d hate to see wasted … You’ve made yourself a loose thread, one that has no damaging repercussions if I decide to have you removed. Do you understand?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Doomfist’s large gauntlet, with its golden fingers and heavy metal, was delicately laid upon your thinly padded shoulder. He held firm and Ramattra could see in your hardened stare a small spike of emotion breaking through. 

Fear. 

Ramattra could feel his system whirr alive from within his chest cavity, a fan kicking in to dispel a heat he hadn’t felt till that moment. 

“Very good.” Doomsift gave your shoulder a pat before he moved the heavy hand from your body, and your heart race quickened at the lack of his touch. Silent as the night, the tall Human walked back to the head of the table and sat down in a blackened swivel large chair. He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking. 

Reaper shifted his weight from side to side, waiting.

Sombra’s sharp eyes were fixated on Mimic, then onto Ramattra for a brief moment. 

“Ramattra.” Doomfist spoke and his golden gaze shifted to the Omnic. “If Agent Mimic was in your charge, how would you proceed with discipline?” 

Your eyes shifted to him, your fear growing cold in your once bright eyes that teased him with his own voice months ago, and Ramattra’s fan kicked up a level in intensity. You were breaking, as any Human would do in time. There was something undeniably egotistically uplifting at knowing your fate was dependent on his word; something cruel and bitter. Mondatta’s words of compassion echoed within Ramattra’s mind, a failure of a lesson, and it was one he swore never to head again. 

And yet. 

Ramattra uncrossed his arms and reached for his staff, with long metal fingers curling about the weapon’s shaft as he hummed a thought. “Were this left to me? This tool is still usable, even in such a blunder.” 

Your eyes never moved off Ramattra as he continued. “Agent Sombra has given her account on how Mimic’s network was undetectable, to herself and to Overwatch until the big reveal. With some reworking, and with proper guidance, this tool can be repurposed.”

Doomfist hummed deeply. “To be repurposed, a novel idea. And if I were to offer Mimic into your service?” 

The Omnic didn’t trust Doomfist as far as he could throw him. This was a trick. “I would decline.”

“I see.” Doomfist sighed. The tone was set and Mimic’s fate was sealed.

Unless Ramattra acted quickly. But did he want to? It was no secret you were using your network to watch him, an unspoken thing said in the report and after a quick dissection of your data. Why were you watching him? What did you want? Were you seeking the thrill of an obtuse fetish? Trying to gather information on Ramattra that could bring him down? Were you secretly working on the derivative of Talon? There were too many questions.

And thankfully for you, Ramattra wanted answers. 

“However,” Ramatta took a step forward, using some of his massive form to block you from Doomfist’s gaze. Your heart was accelerating at every passing second and there was a mild thrill for Ramattra in your panic. “If Mimic was to choose to transfer to my retinue, I would see this repurposing done. Personally.” 

“You believe they have a choice?” Doomfist raised a singular handsome brow. 

“I do. They can either accept the transfer,” Ramattra and everyone turned their attention to you, and he watched as you swallowed hard. “Or they die. There is no use in vague threats over their life now. They understand … don’t you, Agent Mimic?”

Your throat was so dry that it burned like a sunburn. You rolled your tongue behind closed teeth, trying to find some saliva for reprieve, but there was none. There was only one answer you could give. 

---

And that is how you ended up as the only Human in service of Null Sector, a Talon lesion for Ramattra’s personal use; half hacker and half confidant. Ramattra used your mimicry to every advantage, both in the physical sense and in data collection. You were given quarters deep within the recesses of his primary base, where the sun barely showed and work was grueling. But you were at least alive. You would adapt to your new life (for however long it lasted), as you had so long ago as a child. You swore to yourself to thrive, to make yourself useful, and to survive no matter what suffering the world would toss upon you. 

And of course, you wouldn’t let your flare fade away, not all the way at least. You just had to go about it differently then you had before. The first rule change was to not piss off Ramattra. The second was to not get caught.

So when you felt the need to speak to yourself, you did so in your room. You couldn’t hold back those ticks for sassy conversation. Using his voice, however meager and in private, provided some aspect that you still had free will in your new life. 

“Did you think me forgiving?” You asked yourself in Ramattra’s voice. 

“No, Sir.” You responded with a smile. “I think you are a dick.” 

“You dare?!” Ramatra’’s voice scoffed in your throat. “You’ll pay for that, little one.” 

“Oh, little one~? Don’t make a promise you can’t keep …” You blinked at that and felt your face flush. That came out of nowhere, and it was extremely unhealthy. Creepy and gross, even. You cleared your throat and reached for a cup of water, sipped it to soothe the ache from copying Ramattra’s deeper voice. 

“I’m fucking weird.” You chuckled at yourself nervously and got back to work, typing away at a report.

Meanwhile, from across the base, a solitary Omnic was in his workshop with an array of monitors before him. 

Ramattra knew your first task when setting up your room would be to weed out any listening devices and cameras, all which you found with ease … save one. But it’s location he kept to himself, for now.

You weren’t the only one who was capable of mimicking.

[heejayy]

Shuri U. || Unexpected Love

Warning • a little angst, swearing, suggestive

Genre • fluff, friends to lovers

Pairing • Shuri x fem! Black Reader

Wc: 2.7k

A/n: I needed to write something wholesome after all that smut 🤭🫶🏾

It wasn’t suppose to happen like this. You only made monthly visits once in a while to cheer her up and make sure she was level headed but over time something grew in Shuri. She couldn’t name it but anytime it was time for you to leave she would watch you board the Talon fighter with an aching pain in her chest and it grew and grew until your next visit.

Which is today, Shuri waited for you on the landing pad with her palms sweating and her heart pounding. She was so eager to see your smile again and embrace you with a warm hug.

“Nervous?” Shuri was startled when a voice appeared from behind her. She turned around to scowl the person, only to realize it was Okoye.

Shuri scoffed, "I see you're back from your world tour, what impeccable timing," she muttered sarcastically, causing Okoye to chuckle.

"I'm not staying long, just a week home before I'm back out on my journey again," Okoye says proudly, looking off in the distance. "But I have one thing to say to you...just don't freeze," she teases, patting Shuri's shoulder.

“Wha- I am not my brother, I won’t freeze!” Her reaction was a little too late as she had already began walking off. Shuri then began fidgeting, adjusting her sweatshirt, muttering about how annoying Okoye was. While going on a self rant about how she won’t freeze in front of you before she knew it the Talon fighter was landing and off come you with the most heart melting smile.

“Ahh Shuri!” You ran down the steps towards Shuri dropping all your luggage jumping into her arms “oh it’s so good to see you, it been so long!”

You looked extremely good, you hair was done in waist length box braids, face glowing and you smelled of vanilla. Shuri’s favorite scent on you, she couldn’t help but stare you were gorgeous.

“Shuri?”

“Oh- yeah six months and two weeks to be exact but who’s counting?” she jokes holding you in a bond crushing hug, damn it I froze she thought mentally smacking herself hoping you didn’t notice.

But all you noticed was how nice it felt to be back in her arms.

“So what’s should we do first?” You grinned excitedly looping your arm into hers.

“Well we have an ice cream date planned shall we go now?”

“Yes!”

“Boo you suck!!” You grumbled swinging around in Shuri’s swivel chair picking ice cream from the bottom of the tub.

She chuckled wiping her oiled covered hands “What so ever do you mean by that?” You stuck you lip up at her giving her a stank face.

“You said ‘I have an ice cream date planned let’s go” you mocked her in a horrible Wakandan accent “but what you failed to mention was that you actually meant ‘I’ll buy you a tub of ice cream if you sit in my lab with me bored out of your mind’ now does that sound fair?” She shook her head rolling her eyes at your dramatics.

“I remember no such thing” ok, that’s how she wants to play this?

You nodded in a mischievous way before quietly making you way over to her, you wondered around her circling her like your prey acting as if you were interested in her work. Before she could notice you snatched her tool out of her hand and made a a run for it, you knew you wouldn’t get far but that wasn’t your goal.

“Get back here!”

She caught you by your waist lifting you off the floor, “gotcha you little thief” you giggle wriggling around.

"Put me down!" She chuckled as she placed you on a table with your hands above your head, "not until you apologize for interrupting my work," she smirked, making your heart skip a beat. You two stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, hers filled with masked pain but also love, Shuri was full of so much love and she wanted to share it with you.

“My queen- oh!” You two quickly broke apart staring awkwardly at Aya who had interrupted you.

“Um my queen we have a slight problem at the border nothing too serious but I’d just thought you’d like to know” Shuri nodded stepping away.

“I’ll be back then we can do something I promise” you smiled nodding, shooing her away to attend her problems.

Waiting for Shuri grew tiresome, so you what did you do to pass the time? You rambled through your best friend’s room “what’s hers is mine and what’s mine is mine” you smirk looking through her closet.

"Oh, this is cute... Yes, I'll take this one and- what is this?" you spoke to yourself, as you drew out a brown plaid scarf that was neatly hung on a hanger. It was the scarf you had wrapped around Shuri's neck the night she took you to the Jabari mountains. You can't believe she kept it; you thought she'd lost it. Knowing she kept it warmed your heart.

“What are you up to?” You jumped dropping everything you held in your hands.

“Fuck me!” You yelled startled “good god Shuri can give me a warning” she rolled her eyes walking further into the closet e among the clothes you’ve taken.

“Why are you in my things?” You shrugged retrieving your things from the floor. She watched you with an amused grin, “no no go ahead take them what’s mine is yours right? ” she said with her words dripping sarcasm.

“Ha ha very funny but yes you’re right these now belong to me” you smiled walking out of her closet and she followed.

“Oh and for the record you’re taking me out tonight you owe me big time” she took a seat on her bed watching you put each piece clothing to your body seeing how they would look on you.

“That would look good on you” she complimented staring at you with her big brown doe eyes, the same eyes that made you flustered when they looked at you.

“Well um anyways” you cleared your throat placing her clothes on the bed “to celebrate my return can we go out parting like I don’t know…to a club?” you looked at her with pleading puppy eyes hoping your tactic will get her to leave her house and go clubbing with you. She tilted her head mocking your look before she uttered a no.

“Come on Shuri we don’t have to drink we can just dance, listen to music and vibe that’s all” you grabbed grabbed her hand giving it a comforting squeeze “it’ll be just me you together, that’s all we need right?”

There’s that feeling again, her heart started pounding, her stomach turn and her hands sweat. Your gaze made her feel whole again, made her feel like she didn’t have a gaping hole in her heart unable to be filled.

“Alright what the hell we can go out” she said in a defeated tone “but only for a few hours!” You cheered throwing yourself onto her.

“Yes!” You grabbed her face smashing your lips into her cheek “I’ll go get my things and we can get ready in your room.”

As she watched you leave her room she reached up to caress the spot on her cheek you kissed with a wide grin appearing on her lips. She was smitten with you.

“Mmm damn I look good, ” you smirked staring at yourself in her body mirror, you wore a white two piece skirt and crop top paired with white strapped fur heels, while she wore a black suit, opened blazer with nothing but a brallete underneath, and my god did she looked good.

“Did my ass get fatter?” She snickered at your comment messing with her curls trying not to make herself noticeable as she stared at you.

“Y/n shut up and let’s go” she grabbed your hand snatching you away from the mirror, what she wanted to say was yes your ass was fat and yes she wanted to smack it, and it made it no better that you walked right in front of her with that small cloth around you called a skirt. The way your hips moved with each step you took mesmerized her, she took a deep breath in stuffing her hands deep in her pockets tearing her eyes away from your ass. You were going to be the death of her.

When you arrived at the club, you two seemed to have split up right away; a swarm of women whisked Shuri away to the dance floor, and you let them go, but not without feeling a twinge of jealousy. You brushed it off, reasoning that she doesn't get out much and thus deserved it, and went on to find your own dance partner. It's more likely that she found you. You gave her a chance because she was cute.

“What are you doing here all alone beautiful?” You rolled your eyes at the lame pick up line.

“I’m not alone I came with a friend” you yelled over the music as you continued to dance.

“Well where is he?” She asked pulling your hips closed to her.

“They’re a she and she’s out having fun.”

"Well, why can't we have our own fun?" That's my cue, you thought as you walked away from the stranger, ignoring her call behind you. You took a seat at the bar and asked, "Can I get a margarita on the rocks?" As the bartender turned to take your order, you heard a scoff.

“What are you a middle age white mom?” You gasped ready to defend yourself when you realized the snarky comment came from none other than Shuri.

"You little fucker, I thought you were dancing?" She shrugged as she sipped her mimosa. You rolled your eyes at her beverage selection.

"Really a mimosa?" You asked mocking her, she smacked her lips at you "Don't judge me, they're good.” You two share a giggle before calming down.

"How about you and your little fangirls? What happened to them?"

“I wasn’t feeling it, it felt really weird getting all that attention” you nodded.

“It shouldn’t be weird at all Shuri, you’re an attractive woman with an incredible personality and you’re insanely smart” she glanced at you for a moment before staring her drink down.

“Why thank you, you’ve boosted my ego yet again” she joked trying to play it cool, she turned to say something else but you interrupted her with a gasp “oh my god I love this song” you hopped of your still putting your hand in front of her.

“Shall we go dance m’lady” she giggled taking it, “we shall.”

While the song was playing, you wrapped Shuri's arms around you and grinded on her. She was taken aback at first and didn't know how to react, but after feeling you sway to the music, she quickly got the hang of it. She moved with you, following the flow of the music, feeling the beat rattle inside her body; she couldn't deny how much she enjoyed this sensation. The sensation of you two being so close and intimate made her feel things she shouldn't have felt for her best friend.

“aren’t out enjoying yourself?” You asked laying you head back on her chest.

“I- I think we should go” before you knew it she was gone, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor confused and hurt. You didn’t take long chase after her finding her outside pacing back and forth, you’ve seen this before it’s her calculating pace. When she can’t figure an equation out she’d pace to get her mind going but what equation was she trying to solve now?

“Shuri what the hell was that all about, I thought we were having fun?” No response.

“Shuri Udaku speak to me!” Your outburst made her abruptly stopped and turnto you.

“You’re confusing me, why are you confusing me!” She yelled pointing at you.

“What on gods green earth are you talking about?” She let out a dry chuckle as if you were suppose to know.

"This! US!" She screams frustrated “Every second I spend with you feels like my heart is about to erupt from my chest; you drive me insane in the best way! You make me flustered with the smallest action, you and your beautiful smile make me want to grab your face and kiss you a thousand times over, there isn’t anything in this entire universe I wouldn’t do for you. You make me feel special and cared for and I'm just trying to figure out whether it's friendly love or you...you actually love me." She was breathing heavily fidgeting with her fingers staring at you for an answer, your mind was spinning, maybe it was the liquor catching up to you, you were always a light weight.

“Bast why did I just say that, look at you, you looked frightened” Shuri was now confused and embarrassed.

You grabbed her hands holding them tightly in yours “Shuri just breath,” listening to your soft voice she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“i am not afraid of you my love, I’d never be afraid of you. And if you were feeling this way you should’ve came to me sooner not holding all these emotions in at once.”

"If you had come to me, I could have told you that I was feeling the same way..." hearing that lit spark in Shuri's eyes, so you decided to finish "it started a while back, watching you care for your country and your people making sure they were ok all while trying to handle the death of your family. It was astounding to me, I admired your strength and determination but then I realized you were masking your pain. So I wanted to be an outlet for you, to make sure you kept the little bit of the happiness you had left, and the more time we spent together, the harder I fell for you, so to answer your question, yes, I do love you."

A smile took over her worried face, she gently cupped your face in her hands looking into your eyes “can I kiss you sithandwa sam?” You nodded, she leaned down connecting her soft lips with yours, your lips instantly moved in sync with one another, she deepened the kiss as one hand trailed down to your waist bringing you closer to her. The kiss was electrifying all those held back emotions are now being released, you were so in the moment you almost forgot you were outside a club.

You came back to earth pulling away trying to catch your breath “Mmm shit Shuri we’re outside anyone can see us” she ignored you bringing you back into the kiss, but you giggled moving back again.

“Shuri” you warn, she groaned annoyed as she bit her bottom lip looking down at you. She’s never looked at you liked this it was almost like a yearning desire behind them, you liked it.

“I’ve finally gotten the girl I want and now you don’t wanna kiss me how hurtful” you scoff smacking her arm “don’t be so dramatic we can continue when we get back to your place” you pulled her in by her blazer leaving one last kiss on her lips.

“If we make it home fast enough I’m all yours” liking the sound of that Shuri quickly wrapped her arm around you as you both walked to the car.

“Can I ask you one more thing love?” You nodded with a smile “of course cutie what is it?”

“Can I please smack your ass I’ve been dying to do it all night?”

“Shuri don’t be dirty!”

“Oh please says the one who was grinding all over me” you sighed defeated “fine just onc-“ before you could finish she smacked your butt the hardest she could before taking off running, with her giggles echoing through the night.

“Shuri i’m going to fucking kill you! That shit hurt!”

Taglist 💌: @abenomeiiii , @lustfulbarbie , @locoforshuri , @zayswriting , @pinkwright , @6-noir , @saintwrld , @inmyheadimobsessed

Shuri’s Masterlist

©heejayy 2023 — any reposts or translations of my works outside of tumblr are strictly prohibited unless granted permission 🤍

[swan-of-sunrise]

Three's Company (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

Summary: A week before Christmas, (Y/N) and Loki help Peter maintain his secret identity and find themselves faced with a surprising addition to their happy duo.

Pairing: Loki X F!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi there! Today we've got a little holiday fluff for our favorite newlywed couple, and I'm not even joking when I say that this is pure tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading, I hope that you enjoy! (And happy holidays!!)

Three’s Company December 17th, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Spellbinding Masterlist)

After drilling the last screw into the wall, (Y/N) set the heavy power tool down on an empty shelf and leaned back to admire her handiwork with a proud smile on her face. “There! Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder to see Loki saunter into their new shared suite, an impressed grin spreading across her husband’s handsome face when he spotted her fully assembled bookshelf. “Darling, while it’s commendable that you pieced together this infernal Ikea bookshelf all by yourself, why in all the Nine Realms didn’t you just use your Alf Seidr?”

“Because I wanted the satisfaction of having conquered this stupid piece of furniture with my own bare hands,” (Y/N) confidently answered back, drawing a chuckle from Loki as he moved to stand beside her ladder. “And besides, I lived almost all my life without resorting to magic to solve all of my problems; I hardly think it’d be right to start now, even if it meant spending an entire day assembling this damn bookshelf and missing out on-” At that exact moment, the shelf bearing her clunky electric drill collapsed and set off a chain reaction that saw each shelf fall one by one, the last of them slamming against the ladder’s leg and sending her toppling backwards into her husband’s waiting arms. “…Lunch.”

Taking note of the purple-hued glow beginning to emanate from the palms of (Y/N)’s hands, Loki hummed in sympathy and pressed a comforting kiss onto her furrowed brow. “You’ve lost this battle, darling, but you certainly won’t lose the war. How about I draw you a bubble bath and prepare dinner while you relax for a spell, and then the both of us can conquer the bookshelf after we eat?”

(Y/N) heaved an exasperated sigh but gave him a relenting nod, willing her magic away and giving her husband a thankful kiss before pulling back and flashing him a flirtatious smile. “Or…you could always order some take-out and join me in the bath? My arms are pretty sore, after all, and I might need a little help washing my back.”

“Are you trying to tempt me, darling?” Loki arched an inquiring brow as a mischievous smirk played on his lips, his emerald-green eyes alight with a burning desire that sent shivers of anticipation through her body. “Because if so, you should know that it’s working remarkably well.”

Giggling, (Y/N) looped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss, but a frantic knocking on their suite’s door caused them both to jump as the romantic atmosphere was shattered by the reality of their superhero lives. They exchanged matching looks of regret and once Loki carefully set her onto her feet, they both crossed the room to see who was on the other side of their door; when (Y/N) opened the door, her brows furrowed in concern when the panicked and pale face of Peter Parker was revealed. “Peter? Is something wrong?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Loki observed, throwing (Y/N) a worried glance as he opened the door wider and ushered the teenager into their suite. “You haven’t attempted to prank Romanoff, have you? Because I already warned you once that your young age won’t stop her from seeking swift revenge for whatever scheme you might dare to concoct.”

Peter shook his head as he began to quickly pace across their living room, and it was then that they both spotted the large cardboard box clutched tight in his arms. “No, no, of course not; if the God of Mischief himself warns me not to prank someone, then I’m definitely gonna pay attention.” The teenager carefully set the box down onto their couch and started to unfurl its lid. “I’ve got a pretty big problem that I could really, really use your guys’ help with.”

“Well, I’m sure that we can help you with…” (Y/N)’s reassuring words trailed off when a muffled bark emanated from the box and a moment later, the small black head of an excited dog popped up and gave Peter’s hand a slobbering lick. “A puppy?”

“While I was out on patrol earlier in Queens, I stopped a couple of jerks from jacking my neighbor’s car and beating him up and to thank me, he gave me one of his flat-coated retriever’s new puppies; I can’t keep him, ‘cause Mr. Rodriguez gave him to Spider-Man and if he sees me with this little guy in the apartment building, then he’ll start to suspect who I am and then he’ll tell Aunt May and then?” Peter sighed as he plopped down onto the couch beside the box and scratched the onyx-colored puppy behind his floppy ear. “Then I’ll be toast with a capital ‘T.’”

Taking a seat on the other side of the box, Loki confidently extended his hand out for the puppy to sniff and chuckled to himself when he began to lightly gnaw on his long fingers. “So, what would you like us to do?”

“Well, I texted MJ and she said she’d help me find a good home for him but she’s gonna be out of town for a week to visit her grandparents, so…could he maybe stay here until she gets back? Please?”

(Y/N) bit her lower lip in contemplation, torn between her desire to help the desperate teenager avoid accidentally revealing his secret identity to his aunt and entire apartment building and her uneasiness around dogs of all shapes and sizes; because of her aunt’s meager salary as a music tutor and their strict building manager, she never had a dog while growing up and very rarely had the opportunity to interact with one, leading to a reluctant but life-long wariness of them as a whole. But as she watched her beaming husband lift the puppy out of the box and cradle him in his arms while the puppy’s tail excitedly wagged in response to Peter’s ear scratches, her pursed lips softened into a small smile. “Well, since it’s only for a week…I suppose we can look after him for you.”

“Thank you, Miss (Y/L/N)!” Peter jumped to his feet and flung his arms around her in an overly-enthusiastic bear-hug. “I’ve gotta head home and finish up my Trig homework before Aunt May comes back from grocery shopping, so I’ll see you guys next Saturday!”

After giving a bemused Loki a fist-bump and patting the top of the puppy’s head one last time, Peter dashed out of their suite and used his web shooters to close the door behind him. Her husband shook his head in amusement before looking over at her with a pleased smile spreading across his face. “That was very generous of you, darling; I know that you’re not exactly comfortable around canines.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Peter needed help, and I still owe him one. Nothing could ever repay him for saving my life, but working to keep his secret identity a secret for a little while longer seems like a good place to start.” A dark shadow crossed Loki’s handsome features as the abrupt reminder of her near-death experience in the wake of the Battle of Boston hung heavy in the air, and she leaned down to press a soothing kiss onto his cheek before moving to sit on the arm of the couch right beside him. “And besides, I was thinking that this might be a good opportunity to rectify my inexperience with dogs.”

“And you just couldn’t turn down this adorable little face,” Loki lifted the puppy so that their faces were side-by-side and playfully pouted, making (Y/N) roll her eyes at his playful teasing. “Could you, my love?”

A reluctant smile began to play on her lips and while her husband grinned in triumph, the puppy let out a joyful bark and licked the entire side of his face, causing his nose to scrunch up in displeasure as she giggled in amusement. “It looks like the God of Mischief has finally met his match!” Throwing caution to the wind, she stretched a hand out and ran her fingers through the thatch of onyx-hued fur around the puppy’s neck, her shoulders relaxing and her smile softening when she saw his tail vigorously wagging in response. “I think we’re all going to get along just fine this week.”

Loki, setting the puppy down onto the ground and wiping the dog slobber off of his cheek with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, chuckled to himself as he gently pulled her onto his lap and wound his arms around her waist. “It’ll certainly be an adventure; if this little one is anything like the hounds that Thor and I grew up around, then you and I won’t be getting much rest for the foreseeable future.”

“But he’s just a little puppy, sweetheart! How much trouble could he possibly cause?”

The sudden clatter of the ladder toppling over onto the ground caused them both to jump in surprise, and (Y/N)’s head whipped around just in time to see the rambunctious puppy speed by and clamp his small jaw onto the hem of their living room curtains. Loki’s emerald-green eyes sparkled with mirth as he glanced over at her, and his voice shook with barely-concealed amusement as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come up with an idea or two.”

It was when (Y/N) and Loki were attempting to coax the puppy into letting go of the torn curtains and the puppy decided that it was the perfect time to relieve himself that (Y/N) started to realize that it would be a long, long week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m pretty sure I told you that the training bot was just for running your sword drills, Melisandre, not your Alf Seidr,” Tony joked as he yanked the dismembered torso of an Iron Legion droid out of the training room’s wall. “He’s only been rated to handle medieval-style combat; I haven’t figured out how to make him immune to Light Elf magic.”

(Y/N) tossed one of the droid’s legs into the pile of limbs and winced at the harsh sound it made. “Sorry, Tony.”

“What made you go all Cosmic Sorceress on the poor guy, anyhow?” Natasha asked, setting the fire extinguisher down and crossing her arms over her chest as her expression morphed into a look of concern. “Usually you have a pretty good handle on your emotions and your magic during your workouts and drills. Do I have to grab my Widow Bites and go have a little chat with that husband of yours?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not about Loki.” Giving the spy an exasperated smile, (Y/N) flicked her wrist and used her swirling purple-hued magic to repair the damaged wall before them. “It’s about that puppy we’re taking care of as a favor to Peter.”

The billionaire shrugged as he began re-assembling the dismembered droid. “Puppies are hard work; at least he’ll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow and you two’ll have a canine-free Christmas.”

“That’s sort of the problem…” Both Tony and Natasha frowned in confusion and (Y/N) continued. “He’s grown pretty attached to the little guy; he takes him for walks, plays with him for hours, and even cooks him fresh food for every meal. And look, this is what I woke up to this morning,” (Y/N) trailed off as she strode over to the nearest bench to retrieve her cell phone, opening her photo gallery and showing her friends the image on the screen; it showed a sleeping Loki sprawled out beneath their thick bedding, one arm tucked beneath her pillow while the fingers of his free hand were weaved around the onyx-colored fur of the snoring puppy that was curled up close beside him. “They’re adorable together, aren’t they?”

Natasha smiled at the photo. “I never knew that Loki was a dog-guy; I always figured that he’d get along better with cats.”

“Temperamental and aloof? Yeah, that’s our Reindeer Games,” Tony chuckled, tightening the bolts connecting the droid’s head to its neck and throwing (Y/N) an inquisitive look. “Sounds like the solution to your little problem is to adopt the pooch; the doggie gets a loving home with you two and Loki’s heart won’t be broken, so it’s a win-win.”

“Unless…” The spy tilted her head as she absentmindedly fiddled with the end of her long braid. “Do you not like the puppy?”

(Y/N) emphatically shook her head. “I absolutely love the puppy! It’s just that…well, Loki and I are Avengers with close ties to different realms; we never know when we’ll be assigned a mission or how long we’ll be gone from the tower, and we’re always traveling to and from Asgard and Alfheim. Wouldn’t all that combined make for an unstable and pretty lonely life for a dog?”

“If you and Loki were normal people with normal careers, yeah, but like you said, you’re both Avengers. You two’ve got a tower full of friends who’d love nothing more than to dog-sit for you, or do really anything for you, to be honest.” Natasha reached out and slung an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as she gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise you right here and now that that dog’ll never be lonely while we’re around.”

“And besides, you two’re pretty set on having kids someday, right?” A grinning Tony shrugged his shoulders in a playful manner. “Seems to me like getting a dog is the best crash-course in parenting to have before a little bundle of joy comes along.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed in her chest at the helpful words of her friends, her earlier fears and reservations beginning to dissipate as she finally allowed herself to imagine their happy duo expanding into a more chaotic but even happier trio. “Well, in that case…it looks like Loki’s getting an extra Christmas present this year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Christmas Eve, after they’d come home from the charity Avengers ice skating party at Rockefeller Center with the knowledge that they raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for a handful of children’s charities, (Y/N) and Loki bundled up in their coziest sweatpants, stockings and ugly Christmas sweaters and lounged on their suite’s couch together, where they basked in the bright glow of their illuminated tree and sipped their hot chocolate as they debated which Christmas movie to watch.

“It appears as though we’ve reached an impasse, darling,” Loki sighed dramatically, his long fingers fiddling with the fuzzy end of his Santa hat as he fought to keep the mischievous smile off his face; parting with the puppy they’d been briefly fostering earlier that day had been a subtle but significant blow to him, so it was nice to see that their evening of ice skating had helped to cheer him up. “It’s between a surprisingly faithful adaptation of Charles Dickens’ timeless tale of the true meaning of Christmas that stars the delightful Muppets, and a film that depicts the many misdemeanors and felonies that an eight-year-old commits after his rather neglectful family leaves him home alone for Christmas.”

“Mm-hmm. Decisions, decisions…” (Y/N) playfully pondered as she tilted her head to the side in faux contemplation, the colorful jingle bells decorating her reindeer antler headband sounding and making her husband’s eyes twinkle in silent amusement. “How about this: we can watch The Muppet Christmas Carol tonight, if…”

Loki arched a curious brow. “If?”

“If…you let me give you one of your Christmas gifts first.” She watched while he considered her offer, silent anticipation bubbling up within her as she continued. “There’s no catch, sweetheart; this is just the sort of gift I’d rather give you in private than in front of the others tomorrow morning.” His emerald-green eyes darkened with an all-too familiar desire and she shot him an exasperated look. “It’s not that sort of gift, Loki Odinson. So, how about it?”

“Well, I do enjoy receiving gifts and since you’re such an excellent gift-giver,” He grinned and shook her outstretched hand. “Then I graciously accept.”

With an excited smile on her face, (Y/N) extricated herself from her husband’s arms and hurried over to retrieve a small wrapped package from beneath their Christmas tree, plopping back down onto the couch and eagerly watching while a bemused Loki worked on opening it; when he removed the lid, he cocked his head and looked up at her with polite curiosity. “It’s…a tiny green sweater?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? This gift’s a two-parter!” Raising her hand, (Y/N) summoned her Alf Seidr and flicked her wrist, sending a ball of purple-hued magic across the room and using it to create a crackling portal, beaming as a familiar onyx-colored puppy dashed through and leaped onto a surprised Loki’s lap with a joyful bark. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“But I thought…? Didn’t Parker come by this morning to take him away?”

Pleased that she’d managed to successfully out-trick the God of Mischief himself, (Y/N) smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I may or may not have called him yesterday to tell him that we were considering adopting him; after he left, he dropped him off at the lab so that Bruce and J.A.R.V.I.S. could keep an eye on him until tonight.”

Loki’s eyes went wide and filled with an earnest emotion as his long fingers scratched behind the happy puppy’s ears. “My love, I…I-I don’t know what to say. Are you certain about this?”

“Absolutely,” She replied and leaned over to press a sweet kiss onto his smiling lips. “…But I do have one little request, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything, darling.”

“Can we name him Mischief?”

Before Loki could answer, the sound of shredding paper caused them both to look down and they laughed at the sight of the puppy vigorously tearing into the wrinkled wrapping paper. “It would seem as though he’s already decided that for me, doesn’t it?” (Y/N) giggled when Mischief barked and licked the side of her face, and Loki grinned before kissing her forehead and ruffling the onyx fur of Mischief’s fluffy neck. “Welcome to our little family, Mischief.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: See? I wasn't lying about the tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk?si=5fcb3ef04de544e7

“Spellbinding” Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva​​​​​​​​​​​ @ravenclawbitch426​​​​​​​​​​​ @cminr​​​​​​​​​ @confusedfandomwriter​​​​​​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​​​​​​ @nickkie99​​​​​​​​​​​ @austynparksandpizza​​​​​​​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​​​​​​​ @a-laufeyson​​​​​​​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itscomplicatedx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @0-artemis​​​​​​​​​​​​ @vivloki​​​​​​​​​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​​​​​​​​ @groovy-lady​​​​​​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​​​​      

[morataarts]

Long post!!

Some stuff I wrote today inspired on my drawings :D

I'm not the best writer so sorry for any errors

Enjoy !

Macaque fights Wukong

Disclaimer I made this as a guide so it's not supper detailed for that

Macaque leaves the place MK and him were staying at and goes to get new tools, food and other bare necessities like clothes for MK

“Last on the list... my dojo, that kid broke the last tools we had there” he sighs as he starts collecting various weapons that could be useful in training the unstable MK that fell at his door asking for solitude and training

“Macaque”

The dojo turns a golden color lighting everything

Astral projection and the voice, Wukong

He turns around to face the voice “Wukong! Astral projection?…you must be pretty desperate to do this” he says as he turns around continuing with the task at hand

“what can i help the great king in this fine day?” He says with sarcasm in his voice

“you know damn well what im here for macaque” exasperation fills the golden monkeys voice

“No, i have no idea what you’re talking about” macaque keeps ignoring the other collecting what he needs and going through the list he has, almost completing it

“Macaque im not playing around your stupid games” slightly raising his voice “where’s MK”

Macaque breathes trough his teeth “uuuh sorry can’t tell you…” he turns around collecting the bag of weapons, swings it on his back securing the straps and looks at wukong raising a smirk “that’s confidential info, welp see you next time bud”

As macaque was leaving wukong’s voice roze “Macaque i swear if you don’t tell me where MK is i-“ wukong pointed a finger at macaque who was watching him with a growing angered expression

“you what Wukong? What are you going to do? The kid left on his own and stoped at my door looking for help” he pointed a finger at himself and fixed his bag “he was terrified of his power and of hurting anyone, for heavens sake he was scared of his own kaiju!!” he sighs “I didn’t kidnap your student if that’s what you're implying, he went to me for a reason and he wants to be alone for a reason” he points a finger this time at Wukong’s chest “leave him be and for once be something you never where” he grabs the bag he left by the door and opens a portal “patient” he leaves through the portal ending the astral projection and arriving to his place of stay with Mk

Leaving wukong back in pigsy’s restaurant speechless and with no answer for the others

_______________________________

Context to my “i miss my friends” drawing I made

“That’s it! Get into it and feel it” macaque moves quickly dodging and hitting MK “make it feel as if it was normal, as blood pumping or as breathing, remember relax into it, its a part of you”

Mk breaths and pants trying to concentrate and follow up with Macaque trying to control his glowing monkey form but suddenly “ach” Mk falls to the floor seemingly in pain holding his head

“Shit…MK!” Macaque hurries to Mk’s side and holds his arms “calm down MK!!” MK mind runs while hearing the scrolls words

‘chaos harbringer’

“stop stop STOP!”

The earth slightly shatters, tears flow from MK’s eyes

“Don’t let it control you kid, you’re way stronger than that!!” macaque screams trying to calm down MK, kaiju flowing out and forming before them “Mk listen to me calm down you are safe! You are not what you think you are! Snap out of it kid!”

Mk’s kaiju retreats and he goes back to normal breathing hard, tears still falling trough, he feels a warm embrace holding tight and he reciprocates while sobbing into macaque’s shoulder

Things calm down sometime later and they are sitting on the edge of the mountain, clothes changed and wounds cured

MK thinks of everyone back home and how they might be doing, he thinks about the choice he made a month ago to leave and get macaque to help him control something like himself

“I miss everyone macaque”

Macaque looks at Mk, worry and sadness fill his face

“Im sure they miss you as well kid” macaque looks back to the horizon, feeling Mk press up against his shoulder and on instinct he wraps an arm against Mk

Mk sniffles “you really think so?” He smiles weakly, macaque smiles back “oh I know so kid”

Macaque remembers the time when they where still staying at his house and on the middle of the night Wukong decided on astral projecting to him repeating ‘give me your location, give me your location, give me your locat-‘ ‘omg fuck off wukong’ but too no avail

It lasted all night…

Macaque shudders at the thought

he hates seeing mk like this, but he knows Mk need this time away from everything and gather his thoughts, without the pressure and the constant nagging of the world

“Well lets go have dinner, you have a long day tomorrow” macaque stands reaching a hand to mk who giggles “i thought everyday was a long one at this point” they follow arm to arm reaching their stay “well tomorrow will probably be a little bit more difficult”

“ill be ready for it!” He puffs his chest, macaque chuckles “im sure of it kid”

“Thanks macaque, for helping me”

“You’re welcome kid, anytime”

Thank you for reading 💞 :D

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 6,200

Summary:  It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: none really, just some references to violence, some ableism

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

When you were younger, you'd spend a few weeks at your grandparents house during every summer break. 

It was something they always did, taking in all five grandkids for two weeks, letting them run wild and celebrate the end of a successful school year, releasing all the pent up energy that came from nine months of sitting at desks and memorizing various facts and figures and historical dates. It was a win-win-win for all parties involved, really. Parents got to have peace, quiet, and alone time with their spouses; grandparents got a few weeks of spoiling their grandkids rotten; and kids got to spend time with cousins at the lakehouse. 

You'd loved it, and it was always extremely difficult to leave, trading open, non-fenced back yards for a cookie-cutter house in the suburbs. 

You were an only child, and existed smack dab in the middle of the five cousins with two older and two younger. And before the two older kids had reached their teen years and suddenly thought they were too cool for the younger ones, the five of you would spend countless hours playing hide-n-go seek across the property. 

Katie, the oldest, was extremely smart and observant, always seeming to know exactly where each kid had gone when it was her turn to seek, a master in knowing her cousins well and their favorite places for hiding. The game always went fast when it was her turn, quickly and ruthlessly hunting down the younger kids with no sweat. 

You were no different than the other kids, usually sticking to the same sorts of places; the types of places you could get in and out of easily, places that were difficult to see into. Dirt crusted on your fingertips and shoved under your fingernails as you hid under the porch, trusting the shadow to keep you hidden. Splinters forcing themselves into the palms of your hands from wrenching open the shed and squeezing yourself against the wood paneling inside, kneeling behind various boxes and tools. 

The shadow was home to you in these instances, trusting it to keep you hidden from your cousins, but your habit was well known to all, so it had never lasted long.

Today, darkness was once again keeping you hidden, keeping you away as much as possible from those that would do you harm. Gone were the days of games with your cousins, replaced gradually with the presence of adulthood, and now viciously tossed aside for something that quite literally could keep you out of reach from your family for good. This time, there would be no laughter as Katie or another cousin pulled you from your spot, no giggles to tell you that you lost and it was your turn to seek, no snicker as they remind you you're too predictable. 

No. No, not this time. 

This time, your reluctant exit will be met with a sight you'll have nightmares about for weeks, and without the childish laughter or your grandmother's voice calling you in for dinner. For once, you're trapped in a sense of darkness that is suffocating. The irony doesn't escape you, being afraid of the dark next to a man who has no choice but to live in it. 

The bathroom is eerie with nothing more than a glowing exit sign and a sliver of daylight creeping in from underneath the door, offering a pathetic attempt to provide you with any light. It's not nearly enough to give you a solid visual of the counter and stalls, but you suppose you're not in here for the scenery. It seems odd to you that such a tiny bathroom would even need an exit sign, though you certainly aren’t going to complain. Odder still is the fact that it’s even working when flipping up the light switch had done absolutely nothing.

You suppose you don’t get to be the one to decide what things will work and what won’t work during an alien invasion. It’s beyond your pay grade, apparently.

Both beside you and pressed against you, Matt pants heavily, though it's less from exertion and more from the adrenaline of almost dying, you're sure. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders tightly, and you're incredibly grateful that his strength is holding you up because you're not sure if the muscles in your legs would be able to support you with the way they're trembling. He drops your hand to brace it against the wall behind you, and he shifts so that he leans against it slightly. 

He could easily release his hold on you, easily move you so that you're balanced against the wall instead of on him, but he doesn't. Instead, he’s somewhat bracketed you in, large frame angling you so that his back is to the door. Without you noticing, he’s once again placed himself so that he’ll take the full force of whatever could come at the pair of you. And once you’re aware of what he’s done, you move to shift away, not liking the idea of him being the one to take the pain first, but his grip tightens just enough to make it difficult to move.

You don't fight him on it, your frame trembling too hard to have any chance against him.

Matt lets out a loud exhale and leans forward to lay his forehead against the wall, resting it there while his lungs struggle to calm down. You're not doing much better, one of your hands reaching up to cling to his suit jacket, and the shudder that wracks through his body is only mirrored by the one that seethes through yours. 

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, chest still tighter than you would like, but unable to relax enough to let your breathing settle completely.

“I’m fine,” he whispers, and his voice in your ear is almost as close as it had been when he’d placed himself on top of you when the window had shattered. “Just some cuts, I think. Nothing major. You?”

Your head is nodding before you answer. “Same. My hands and knees are nicked pretty good, but I think that’s the worst of it.” You’re trying to ignore the stinging, you really are, but even in your fear and heightened adrenaline, your palms and knees hurt.

Matt finally pulls himself away and off of the wall and drops his arm from your shoulders, apparently having regained some of his composure, but he doesn’t step away from you, nor does he move enough to keep you from being shielded from the door. He still stands in front of you, though he’s straightened his spine, and somehow he seems both taller and broader than you had originally thought. 

“Give me your hand,” he orders suddenly, brow furrowed from what you can see in the low light. 

You can't help the confusion that flits across your face, or the way it colors your immediate question. “Why?”

“Just–just give me your left hand,” Matt says again, and though the tone is almost urgent, it’s not necessarily impatient. You consider him for just a moment, curious about why he’s asking, but you ultimately decide you have nothing to lose by placing your hand once again in his. He wastes no time in cradling your hand in his own left hand, and you can’t help but look down as he tentatively brushes a finger across your palm, directly over one of the cuts you’d sustained while clamoring to your feet in a mad rush to get to the bathroom. With a hiss, you try to yank your hand back, but he doesn’t let you, other hand tightening around your wrist.

“This one is going to need stitches,” he says quietly, fingers still running lightly around the cut in question. “It’s pretty deep.”

“How do you even know that?” You ask, hand throbbing in his, palm trying to instinctively curl in and push his fingers away. Matt finally lets go, allowing your hand to slowly pull away from him, and you immediately find yourself cradling it against your chest. Multiple parts of your body sting, including your other hand, but how could he possibly know it’s worse than the other cuts?

Matt’s head tilts in a question you're unsure he even wants to ask, but he does so anyway. “You said you trusted me, right? Did you mean it? Will you…trust me to keep you safe?”

You can’t help but frown at him. There’s not a single inch of your body that doesn’t want to keep clinging to him, to beg him to see this through with you, no matter where the horror of this Wednesday leads you. But the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that it’s not fair to put that on one person, to make your life their responsibility.

“Matt,” you begin slowly, eyes searching his face as best as you can in the limited lighting, this beautiful stranger who had placed your hand in his on that door step before immediately taking control of the situation in an effort to save you both. “That–that’s a lot to put on you. I can’t ask that of you, it’s…it’s not right.”

He’s shaking his head before you finish. “That’s not what I asked. Will you trust me?”

“I–”

“It’s a yes or no question, do you trust–”

“Yes.”

The bathroom is quiet for a moment after you finally answer his question to his satisfaction, even while the sounds you’d rather not think about continue to rage outside. The tile of the bathroom carries the word for just a moment longer, as if the word yes needs to be heard more than once for it to really settle in. It had only been one word, one single syllable, but for some reason, you think the word has never been more heavy, more resolute than anything else you’ve ever said in your life.

You can’t help but think that it’s tied you to the man in front of you more concretely than a rod of steel that's been welded to another, and it’s a tie that will last long after the dust of New York City has settled.

Matt inhales sharply as your lips finish forming the word, and his reaction is immediate. His shoulders square and stiffen, and he takes a sudden step around you, feet carrying him to about a yard away towards the counter you can faintly make out. Confused, you turn your body so that it still angles his, and you see the vague outline of him reaching for something. It’s only a split second before the sound of water trickling out of a facet fills the air. With a small gasp, you take a step towards him, hip bumping into the counter, suddenly desperate for a sip. You move to cup your hands to form some sort of makeshift cup, but the sharp sting in your left palm flares back to life.

His body twists towards yours, and a hand settles on your wrist. “Let me wash my hands, and then I’ll help you clean that cut out.” You wince, but you can’t really argue the idea of trying to clean the cut, especially if it needs stitches like he says. Nodding and sighing hesitantly, you listen as he washes his hands. When he’s done, his hand gently grasps your wrist, and so you reluctantly let your hand be led under the cool water. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers quietly when you hiss and jerk your hand back instinctively, but he doesn’t let go, just helps you hold your hand in place while the water runs over it. The smell of soap hits your nose before he adds it to your hand, and you turn your head away with another wince. He helps you clean your other hand, rubbing soap into the other smaller cuts, before he turns off the water.

You bring your left hand up to you for inspection, sighing when you see in the low light that it’s still bleeding sluggishly. He’s right, you think. It will need stitches.

Nose scrunching up slightly, you glance up at him. “I think…I think I need to wrap it. Can you help me tear a strip off of my shirt?”

“You can use my tie,” he answers instead, quickly removing it from around his neck, the fabric smoothly sliding against the collar of his shirt. A single second later, he’s reaching for your hand again, and you're able to catch a quick glimpse of the tie, barely noticing the blue with flashes of black, as he wraps it around your hand quickly. The fabric is too thick for him to tear, so he tucks the end of the tie underneath the layers. It’s bulky and feels strange, it doesn’t allow you to fold your hand in much, but you’re hopeful it’ll keep things from aggravating it further. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, the sound barely traveling.

“You’re welcome.” Matt’s head shifts slightly, the sounds of outside momentarily drawing his attention. The sound startles you, too, having been focused on the man who had been working on your hand so tenderly, and you can’t help the way your heart speeds back up as you're reminded of the death and destruction that's wreaking havoc on the other side of the building's walls. Jumping slightly, you glance up at the man, seeking the face that's managed to bring you comfort in moments of terror, and it just so happens that the light from the exit sign catches the skin of his forehead pretty clearly. Eyes wide, you notice for the first time the large cut just past his hairline, one that has caused a trail of blood to trickle down the side of his face.

“Matt,” you say in rapidly rising concern. “Your head, it–”

“I know,” is all he says, his shoulders vaguely shrugging. “We can take care of it later.”

You shake your head quickly in disagreement. “Uh, no. Let’s take care of it now.”

“It’s not necess–”

“If you’re honestly about to tell me it’s not necessary when you have a giant gash on your head, then you can just find a way to deal with me cleaning it anyway,” you tell him, already moving to turn the water back on. A wad of paper towels are in your hand a second later, and you wet them before he even responds. When you turn back around, Matt’s still directly behind you, hands on his hips. 

“Tilt your head down.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m fi–”

You can’t help but snort, despite the situation. “I told you to tilt your head down, Matthew. I let you clean up my hand, and now it’s my turn to clean up your head.”

Instead of tilting his head down, he lifts up his chin and tosses his head back in something resembling defiance, sighing loudly . His shoulders are still stiff, every inch of body seeming untouchable, unwilling to accept help. Normally, you might have kept your distance from a man like this, someone who would fight you every step of the way to have someone take care of them. You’ve dated enough men who were closed off, men who pushed you away when they were hurt or scared, desperate to save face, as if experiencing such emotions made them less.

But this isn’t a man who seems afraid to accept help, but rather one who perhaps believes his pain wasn’t worth the trouble. So, respectfully and as calmly as you can, you take a step further into his space, thread your fingers in his hair as best you are able to, and pull his face down to yours. 

He makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat, but keeps his mouth shut otherwise. Without a word from either one of you, you maneuver your fingers around his glasses and carefully wipe the blood from his face with the wet paper towels, grabbing new ones and wetting them as needed, until his face is as clean as it can be. His face is still hardly lit up in the dark of the bathroom, but you can't help but notice the small winces he makes every time you get closer to the cut, and the tongue that darts out to wet his lips.

Frowning, you grab one last set of paper towels and press it gently to the large cut that stretches an inch or so just past his hairline on the left side of his face, causing hair to be sticky and matted down slightly. He hisses, but unlike you, he stands still while you clean it, and it only lasts a few seconds before you are done.

Outside, the isle of Manhattan continues to collect a large number of gashes and bruises and fatal hits to its infrastructure and population, but nothing is more important in that moment than the man whose face is just a foot from yours.

Eventually, you sigh and take a step back, throwing the bloodied paper towels in the trash can, and Matt straightens, face clear of the blood that had been violently decorating his fair skin. 

“Uh…thank you,” he tells you haltingly, shifting somewhat awkwardly. He steps around you, once more settling his body between yours and the door, as if attempting to act as some sort of shield should anything come barging in, before turning back to you. 

You shrug lightly, almost helplessly, wishing you could convey the thought that his pain, his body mattered, even as he all but offers himself to go first in the battle that is raging outside. “You did the same for me.”

“Yeah, but—”

Matt doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when the building suddenly rumbles and shakes, the walls creaking and groaning loudly. The sound is as terrifying as the actual vibrating and trembling of the building, and it causes your heart to drop to the floor. 

Once upon a time, you’d lived on the other side of the country in San Francisco. The apartment you’d tried to make home was small and in a gross part of town, but you’d done your best to make it work in a city where the cost of living was almost as bad as New York. You hadn’t stayed long, only a year or so, having moved there for a man you thought was worth the abrupt change at the time. It hadn’t worked out, for multiple reasons, and though you’d learned many lessons about what you wanted and deserved in a relationship, in this moment, you can't help but think that the best lesson you ever learned was what to do in an earthquake.

The collection of sinks to your right sits on top of a counter, but from what you can see in the dim lighting, it's one that doesn’t have anything underneath it, just a few twisting pipes and a stack of unopened paper towels. It’s not a great solution, the pair of you will have to make yourselves as small as possible, but it’s better than nothing should things really start to fall. 

Matt had grabbed you and done his best to shield you from the glass, but this was something you perhaps had the leg up on, so you waste no time in yanking him forward and pushing him underneath the counter, making sure his head doesn’t knock against the stone. You’re not standing for much longer, shoving yourself beside him, covering your head with your sliced up hands.

You’re not quite sure how long the building shakes and rumbles, but then again, the rest of the terror-filled moments had seemed to last forever, though in reality it had only been seconds. Matt’s breathing is loud and harsh in your ear, his head not too far from yours, one hand covering his face, the other forcing you further against the wall. You want to struggle against him, want to tell him that he needs to worry about protecting himself, too, but you can’t quite get the words out.

The building lets out a raging groan, shaking the walls loud enough that you can hear books outside crashing to the ground, rattling the glass that is already littered across the floor. With a groan of your own, this one filled with pure terror, you smash your face into your hands as roughly as you can, wishing for nothing more than your death to be a quick one, one that knocks you out hard enough that you just don’t ever resurface from the dark.

It’s incredible how quickly your life flashes behind your eyelids, and you want to laugh at how cliché the whole thing is. Your mind sifts through memory after memory, brief pictures of family members and old friends, thoughts of every heartache and accomplishment. A lifetime of moments all summed into a three second montage, and it leaves you feeling…unfinished.

No, you won’t die here. You’re not done, you can’t be done.

Eyes flashing open, you reach for Matt’s hand, pulling it away from where he’s attempting to cover you as best as he can at the awkward angle, and instead grasp it tightly in yours. His grip is bruising as it locks on, he’s only indication that he’s perhaps as terrified as you. But his fear doesn’t stop him from offering a level of steadiness you hadn’t thought possible in this moment. It’s almost as if he takes the small bit of comfort and determination you had been trying to convey, and somehow manages to return it tenfold.

Earlier, you’d told yourself that you’d met men like him. Men who hold things in for the sake of appearances, not wanting to appear weak, doing their best to come across as impassible and in control. 

But you’d been wrong, as he had already shown you. There are no men like Matthew Murdock, and you have a feeling you’ve only scratched his surface.

The shaking suddenly comes to an abrupt end, and you’re left reeling at the sudden quiet that spreads throughout the bookstore. The calm only lasts for a second, though, before the sounds of sirens and explosions creep back in from underneath the door, your moment of peace vanishing as swiftly as a strike of lightning.

The tension seems to drain from your body, but it doesn’t completely disappear. Your head rests against the wall, and you take in deep, gasping breaths, lungs still on edge but slowly regaining their ability to fill up completely rather than being all but frozen in your chest.

“I think…I think it might be over,” Matt says softly after a moment. “Something–something large landed on the building, but I don’t hear anything else.”

Nodding slightly, you squeeze his hand, acknowledging the quick reciprocal action with a small smile you forget he can’t see. “Do you think it’s safe for us to get up?”

Matt’s close enough to you that you can see the way he licks his lips as he pauses, some action he must do when deep in thought. He nods, or tries to seeing as how his head is all but crunched up next to a pipe, but the motion is enough for you to understand what he’s saying. With a shaking breath, you let go of his hand so that you can push a lock of hair behind your ear so that you can see better, and then steel your spine and force yourself to move.

Because you’re the one who sits slightly in front of Matt, the one who had pushed him underneath before clamoring in next to him, you need to get up first before he can join you. You find a way to get on your knees so that you can crawl out, doing your best to avoid putting pressure on your left hand. When your head is clear and runs no risk of banging against the counter, you awkwardly pull yourself to your feet and step to the side so that Matt can come out as well.

His exit from beneath the counter is much smoother than yours, untucking his long legs and standing a split second later, broad frame solid and bold even in the dark. You roll your head back and around, trying to shake out the stiffness that had set in from sitting so awkwardly, even though you hadn’t been underneath the counter for long. Matt does the same, rolling his shoulders as well, grimacing as he does so.

“You alright?” You ask as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. It had ridden up uncomfortably when you’d dove underneath the sinks, causing the skin to scratch on something. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies with a loud sigh. “Hit my head against the wall at some point.”

You can’t help but wince. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he says easily, still sounding slightly out of breath. “Thanks for pushing me under there. I’ve never…I wouldn’t have known–”

The huff of laughter that comes out is less from humor and more from a sense of shock that hasn’t left your body since the second you looked up and saw the sky being slashed open. “I lived in California for a small period of time. Small earthquakes are just a part of life over there.”

From what you can make out in the dark, his face appears to be one of incredulity. “That felt small?”

This time the laugh that comes out is a little more genuine. “Well…no. But you get used to knowing what to do when one happens, even if it’s small. The shaking of the building just…triggered something, I guess.”

“Gotcha,” is all he says in response, placing his hands on his hips. He takes a few more large deep breaths as if trying to orient himself. You move to take a step back, trying to give him the space you think he might need, just in case he needs a moment to reset himself without someone being so close to him. But before you can shift completely away, his hand snatches out and wraps itself around your wrist, halting your movement.

“Trashcan,” he says quickly in explanation, dropping your arm. “Careful, there’s a trashcan right behind you.”

Flushing, you step to the right and then take a step back. “Thanks.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he pulls himself together. He’s held it all in pretty well, this man who has somehow become your rock in this. But you see little nicks in his armor, little pieces of damaged steel decorating his form. You can only imagine what a man like him looks like when he falls apart, some sort of wilted frame that only sinks when no one else is looking. You can’t help but be immensely grateful for his strength, but there’s a part of you that wants to be around when he plummets, if for no other reason than to repay him in kind.

You find yourself leaning back against the tile next to the door in sheer exhaustion. “So…what next?”

Matt tilts his head. “As in, what should we do next?”

“I–yes,” you rely, hands twitching at your sides. You can only imagine what the rest of the bookstore looks like, can only imagine what the street directly outside looks like, and you can’t help but think that you’d happily wait inside the bathroom until emergency services came and got you.

But...what if they never did?

You try not to think about New York City being completely wiped out by whatever had come into the atmosphere from the gaping gash that had been ripped open over Stark’s tower. The whole time, you’ve been operating on the assumption that things would end, that Iron Man and god knows who else would be able to fix it. But what if they aren’t able to? 

What if…this is just the beginning?

Matt exhales loudly and it pulls you out of your head. “Honestly?”

A garbled laugh gets caught in your throat. “No, I want you to lie to me.”

You’re still standing close enough to see the way his mouth twists into a slight smirk before it drops back into something more grave. “I think…I think we need to leave.”

You wish you could say you were surprised, but you’re really not. And while it certainly doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, you seek to understand his reasoning. "Why? Tell me why you think that. Why do you think we should–"

"I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay here," he tells you, and his words are rushed and loud, as if trying to leave no room for argument.  "I know what I said about us staying, but I really don’t think it's safe here. Not with the Hulk so nearby."

You can't help the way your eyes widen in alarm. The Hulk had been larger than life, bare feet digging into concrete and glass and God only knows what else on the street outside, muscles rippling in aggression, but he hadn't taken a single step towards you. "Matt, he was fighting them, he was on our side."

He runs an aggravated hand through his dark hair. His fingers catch on the tangled strands, which clearly makes him more irritated, and he drops his hand quickly. But you know that irritation is just a distant cousin of panic, and you can see it lurking on a face that is more expressive than he probably thinks.  "Are you from New York?"

"No–"

"But did you hear about what happened in Harlem a few years ago?"

"I–yes."

"Then you know what he's like when he's out of control," he says, his voice suddenly taking on a tone that sounds a little breathless, as if trying to keep some sort of panic at bay. Matt begins pacing in the small bathroom, the dark form of him difficult to trace, though he manages his steps and turns expertly. "He wrecked entire city blocks. It doesn't matter who he was fighting, it was a disaster. Things are only bound to get worse here."

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what he’s saying. You know what happened, know the destruction Hulk had left behind a few years ago, know the mess and disaster he’s likely causing right at this moment, even if it might not be intentional and might actually be in service to the people of New York. "He protected us. He made eye contact with me and didn't come towards us," you argued, unable to think of much else to say.

"It doesn't matter," he replies tensely as his hands settle on his hips, voice still sharp and pushing back against your objections as hard as he can. "Even if he’s going against them, trying to help people, he’s still in this part of town going after them. And if he’s in this part of town, it means we're still far too close to the action, and we need to leave before things get worse."

Your mind is taking too much time processing the words, and you struggle to breathe through the anxiety. Nails digging into the palm of your hands, or as best as they can with the tie wrapped around your left hand, you stand there quietly for a moment, brain sifting through the situation and doing your best to acknowledge the fear before forcing its way into some sort of clarity. 

Yes. Yes…you did need to move. 

Fuck. 

The idea is terrifying, but so is staying here and doing nothing, just praying that the building won’t collapse on you from the weight of whatever has apparently landed on it.

"Okay," you say, finally relenting and taking a deep breath, nodding your head at the same time. "Yes, let's go. Where to?"

Matt stalls, and it's clear that he had been clearly expecting you to push back again, but the agreement causes him to pause briefly. He rubs at his temples in a sign of anxiety and frustration, though he stops his pacing altogether. You watch as he turns his attention to thinking about where to go, and you wrack your brain, too. 

"North. Definitely north."

The words have no sooner left his mouth when your head snaps up, an idea occurring to you. "Do you know where the nearest subway station is? It might be a good place to get to. It might–it might offer some real shelter, something more solid than here. No glass like this."

Matt freezes, as if a light bulb goes off in his head. "That's uh…yes, that's a good idea. There's one on 50th. Just a few blocks north."

"Do you think we'll be sitting ducks down there?"

He seems to think about it, head tilting in consideration before he answers. "We're going to be sitting ducks anywhere. At least there we won't have to worry about anything collapsing or falling on us."

“Ok,” you say with a loud gulp. Your hands twitch at your sides, and your lungs inhale with a full, heavy breath, resigned to leaving the space that’s been a safe haven until now. “I think…I think that might be our best bet. What do you think?”

Matt’s nodding before you even finish speaking, his dark hair momentarily lighting up from the glow of the exit sign. “Yes, I think-I think that’s what we should do. It’s, what? Four blocks north. We should be…we should be able to make that.”

Your feet shuffle on the ground loudly, and you let out an equally loud groan as something else occurs to you, this one not as beneficial as having an idea of where to go. Instead, what’s occurred to you is quite detrimental, and your shoulders sag.  His head tilts towards you in question as if he already knows you have something negative to say. 

You blow out a loud breath. “Matt, I’m wearing heels.”

He gives a curt nod. “I know.”

How could he…? No matter. Not the time.

Your spine straightens even as you glance down at your feet, hating your shoe choice for the thousandth time that day. “I can’t–I can’t take them off because of glass and everything,” you say quietly. “But we need to move quickly and I don’t know if I’ll be able to in these fucking shoes.”

“But you were able to make it when you ran with me,” he tells you, sounding vaguely curious but mostly concerned. “And when you ran to the apartment stoop.”

“Yes,” you agree, because you had, and you even have the popped blisters and torn skin to prove it. “But that was only a block or so, and with you it was only across the street. But four blocks might be…difficult. It makes me nervous.”

“Ok,” he says with a sigh, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His pause is extremely brief, his moment of quick contemplation over before you had realized it had even begun, and he suddenly steps into your space, raising his hands to rest on your shoulders. “We’re going to do the best we can. If you trip, or lose a shoe, we’ll figure it out.”

Your lips twist into a wry, self-deprecating grin. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left and saved yourself.”

The dark frames of his glasses seem to flash in the limited light of the bathroom, his face almost like stone in the way it leaves no room for argument. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Your eyes land over his shoulder in some sort of defiance, though you’re not exactly sure in defiance of what. Perhaps it's the idea that someone would find you worthy enough to save. “But still–”

“I’ve been with you and holding your hand since you walked up to me and grabbed it,” he says quietly, and despite the war raging outside, it’s all you can hear. “What makes you think I’d let go now?”

It's exactly what you need to hear, even though your heart can't help but ache again, realizing this man was willing to do whatever he could to help you, possibly to his own detriment. They…don't make men like this anymore.

You'd taken one look at him on that doorstep, eyeing the blind man with some sort of pity, thinking that his odds of survival would be smaller than everyone else's due to his lack of sight and lack of anyone offering to help. You'd dismissed him as a vulnerable person, labeled him as a liability even as you rushed towards him, certain that the right thing to do was help a man who seemed helpless. 

But this man isn't a liability, he's your greatest strength, your greatest sense of safety on this random Wednesday, and nothing is going to keep you from linking your fate to his when he’s offering it. 

Something settles across his face, some sort of understanding from your silence, and wordlessly he reaches for your hand, links his fingers in yours, and pulls you behind him as he opens up the door and steps into the light.

[zarvasace]

Vollan

Hearts Linked Together character masterpost

Link Vollan is vaguely Swedish. He has never had most of his left arm, which he didn't actually realize was strange for a long time, because he was raised by the dwindling Minish population. He's the cryptid hero mentioned in the Four Swords game that was bundled with Link to the Past once. He came out of the forest, split into four, defeated Vaati, and returned to the forest, never to be seen again. He chose his last name, which means roughly "lives in a meadow."

Vollan has a talent for channeling environmental magic, which is why the Picori Blade turned into the Four Sword when he wielded it. He prefers the company of animals. He's an amazing survivalist, though he is used to a lush kind of coniferous forest. He's very kind but very awkward around people.

Before meeting other Links, he'd assumed he would spend the rest of his life a loner in the woods. After meeting them, he gets a cabin on the edge of town and brings in game sometimes and starts to make friends. He eventually courts and marries a brash redhead with a lot of friends.

His version of splitting into four different versions of himself didn't involve fully realized individuals, just literal pieces of him. He didn't really enjoy the experience, and only splits now if he needs to have a serious emotions talk. It left him with mental scars, and he occasionally hallucinates the feeling of multiple bodies. His nephew takes the Four Sword to the Sanctuary after his death.

--- (634 words and bigger art under cut!)

Today was the day. 

Today was the day. Today was probably the most day of them all.

Link tried to ignore the way his palm sweated as he stared out at the town that stood bustling on the other side of a thin line of trees. There were just so many people, everywhere out there: walking on the dirt roads, talking to friends, tending animals, swinging hammers on glowing metal…

He'd been there before, of course, several times. Perhaps even a dozen. That didn't even count the time that he'd marched in, gotten information about Vaati, and headed out again. That had been terrifying, and an entirely different town. He hadn't been able to bring himself to visit that one again. 

This one, however, contained his goal: a very fancy (to him) knife. All of his were old, sharpened too many times, wearing out. He'd seen one on an earlier foray, last year, so he was pretty confident they'd have one. 

Hopefully his pouch of rupees would do. He had a lot, after his adventure and all he'd gathered. 

Link took a breath, wiped his hand on his tunic, and stepped out toward the nearest building. 

One step in front of the other. Dust kicked up under his feet. Were people staring at him? Oh, gods. Did they recognize him? Was his tunic a strange color? It was his arm, wasn't it. Or maybe his eyes. He'd noticed that most people had the same color in both of them. 

Could he go back to the forest already? 

No. He had a mission. An important one. A knife was the most crucial tool he owned, and it would be so nice to have a new one. 

Link found a shop that sold knives fairly quickly. Nice of them to have a picture of a knife above the door. He could read, but it took a bit of effort. He pushed in, startled at the bell, and found the nearest knife on display that didn't have fancy etchings or a hilt inlaid with opal. He hefted it, looked down the spine for straightness, and took it to the counter. It made a nice, heavy clunk. It would do nicely, yes. 

The man there, heavy with a mustache, leaned forward on his elbows. His caterpillar eyebrows rose quite high. "You want to buy that?" 

Link nodded. Then, remembering his manners, added, "Y-yes, sir." His stutter came out to play, with how hard he was trying to look normal. Great. 

The man eyed him, the patches on his tunic, and the green needles in his hair. Oh, whoops.

Link combed those out. "I-I-I can pay." His hand hovered over the pouch at his waist, a magical one with all of his things in it. He'd be prepared no matter what happened. As he'd been taught, though, he didn't reveal how much he had. 

The man picked up the knife. "A hundred and three rupees for this one. It's quite the knife."

A hundred and three? Oh, Link had that easily. He didn't feel up to haggling today. He dug into his pouch, pulled out the requisite amount in a total of five cut gems, and handed them over. 

Although the man had to think that Link was strange, he sold the knife. Link managed a smile and a thank you, but not a goodbye. He wrapped the knife in the bit of leather he'd saved and tucked it away. 

Just before Link exited the shop, a feeling deep in his gut called out to him. He paused, getting a read on it. Natural and yet unnatural, the feeling urged him to turn the handle of the door. It wasn't malicious, at least. Link hesitated one more moment. 

The shop bell rang again as he stepped out into mist. 

[goodfish-bowl]

Saving Throw

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 6: Tabletop

AO3 Link

Summary: Danny invites Sam and Tucker over to play D&D, asking Spike for a favor to DM the game for them.

Warnings: minor character death, only dialog

Words: 829

“Okay, I’m going to enter the dungeon.”

“I follow into the dungeon.”

“I…  also follow into the dungeon.”

“Okay… so what do we see?”

“It seems to be some sort of laboratory, with metal tables lined up against the walls, open chests full of vials and potions all this bright green color. There are all sorts of tools, journals, and pieces of… something, lying on the tables, and it’s decently cold down here. And, taking up the entire back wall is a cavern, circled by runes, that the entire laboratory seems centered around. What do you do?”

“Oh! The artificer in me loves this place already! I go and investigate the things on the table! Gotta start with the small stuff before looking at the big picture.”

“Yeah, have fun with that. I go and investigate the big hole in the wall.” 

“Eh, why not? I follow… Raven to the back.” 

“Okay, Swave, let’s start with you. I need you to roll both an arcana and… eh, an investigation check works.”

“Cool, okay… that’s a… 7 for arcana and 16 for investigation.”

“So, on the table, you can definitely tell whoever lives here was tinkering with something magic, but you can’t tell what kind other than green and glowy. It’s just a bit too far removed from your area of expertise. Whatever it is, they don’t seem to be getting the results they want, judging from the notes. But, they’ve definitely accomplished something recently.”

“Damn, really wish I rolled higher on that arcana.”

“It is what it is. So, with Raven and Orion. Now that you’re closer, you notice that there are runes inscribed around the cavern, roll an Arcana.”

“Nice, 18 plus 3, 21.”

“I rolled an 8.”

“Okay, well, Raven, you completely recognize these runes, you even notice some blatant errors in some of them. They seem to be an activation sequence of some kind, a gate, even. Orion, you know what a small handful of the runes mean, but nothing coherent.”

“Okay… I uh… go inside the cavern.”

“Eh! I dunno dude, I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk into the giant magic gate in the underground lab.”

“Nah, let him, I’m curious.”

“It’s too late to take it back now. Raven, what are you doing while he’s walking inside?”

“Hmmm, do I notice Orion walking inside?”

“Roll a perception.”

“… that’s a solid 3.”

“Then no.”

“Okay, I’m going to fix the runes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey! Don’t do that! I’m literally walking inside of it right now! Can’t you wait until I’m out?”

“First off, I didn’t notice you go inside, second, the runes are wrong, of course I’m going to fix them. It’s what my character would do!”

“Oh no…” 

“Swave, I want you to also roll a perception check.”

“… Sorry dude, that’s a 5 at best.”

“Ughhhh.”

“Raven, roll an arcana again to correct the runes.”

“17.”

“Congrats, you’ve fixed the runes. Orion, roll a dex save.”

“NO!”

“AH!”

“Oops.”

“… a 2.”

“Ouch, man. Okay, so Raven and Swave. As Orion enters the cavern, and Raven fixes the runes, they start glowing, and there’s a tearing sound as green pours out from the hole in the wall.”

“NOooOooo…”

“Hmm, just for kicks, Orion, roll a con save.”

“Okay… man, this sucks, first session and I’m already… that’s a nat 20.”

“Seriously?!”

“Wow, this will be interesting. So, Orion, as you enter the cavern, now known to be a portal, it lights up with green magic, and races through you, like it’s cooking you alive. But due to the force, it launches you out, and you land in the middle of the laboratory floor… Lower your hp to 1, and use up two death saves. Also, change your race to tiefling. I’ll send you the rest of the stuff when I figure it out.”

“YOOO!”

“Haha… yeah… wow.”

“Hey, Spike, thanks for coming over to DM today.”

“No problem. It’s good to help a friend's sibling with something I’m good at. Especially when he’s trying to make new friends, and it’s not like Jazz was ever going to call in that favor.”

“Yeah, it was really cool. Thank you, but wasn’t it a bit ‘on the nose’ to use my parent’s basement as a reference?”

“Hey, it’s a good inspiration. Besides, you’re the one who walked into it, prior knowledge or not.” 

“Haha… yeah that’s on me… didn’t think it was actually going to do anything until Sam decided to fix the runes.” 

“Yeah, not the best move from a group perspective. But… Jazz said they’re expecting to finish it within the next year.”

“Yeah… maybe. Most of their stuff just covers us in goo. I just hope they finish it soon… they’ve been down there a lot, ya know?”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Anyways, I’m sure I’ll see you around. I’ll tell Jazz you said ‘hi’ whenever she gets home from tutoring.”

“Thanks, little dude. See you around.”

“Later.”

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Master Post

[phantom088]

Days 12, 13, 14, and last but not least, 15 of commanding an AI to Make Danny Phantom Fanfics

I'm so sorry, I keep getting busy and not having time to post on Tumblr, but here we are, a little time and 4 brand new AI generated Danny Phantom fanfics, I hope y'all enjoy!

Story 1: Write me a Danny Phantom fanfic where Danny has the best day of his life.

Danny Phantom woke up feeling a sense of excitement he hadn't felt in a while. It was the weekend and there were no ghosts to fight, no villains to stop, and no school projects to worry about. Today was going to be the best day ever.

He got out of bed and looked out the window. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Danny decided that he was going to go on an adventure. He dressed in his casual clothes, grabbed his backpack, and headed out into the bright day.

As he walked down the street, he came across a group of kids playing basketball. They invited him to join in, and Danny was happy to accept. He had always loved playing sports, but with his ghost powers, he had to be careful not to use them during games. Playing without his powers was a refreshing change, and he felt like a regular kid again.

After a fun game of basketball, Danny decided to head to the park. As he strolled through, he noticed a group of people doing some kind of performance. He got closer and saw that it was a circus. Danny loved the circus, but he hadn't been to one in years. He decided to stay and watch.

The performers were amazing, and Danny was in awe of their skills. His favorite act was the tightrope walker. The performer was so skilled that he looked like he was floating on air. Danny couldn't take his eyes off the performer and was completely mesmerized.

After the circus, Danny decided to go to his favorite ice cream shop. The owner was a friendly old man who always had a smile on his face. Danny ordered his favorite flavor and sat down to enjoy it. The ice cream was so good that Danny decided to order another scoop.

As he walked home, Danny couldn't help but feel happy. It had been a long time since he had such a carefree and relaxing day. He felt like he was on cloud nine.

As he entered his house, his parents greeted him with a surprise. They had constructed a new ghost portal for him to use. It was a gift for all his hard work fighting ghosts, and they wanted him to have the best tools for the job.

Danny was thrilled. Not only had he had the best day ever, but he also had the best parents ever. He went to bed that night with a huge smile on his face, thinking about all the adventures that were yet to come.

Story 2: Write me a Danny Phantom fanfic that revolves around Cujo.

Danny was already having a pretty bad day when he heard a loud growling coming from the outskirts of Amity Park. He was out on patrol as his ghostly alter ego, Danny Phantom, trying to keep the town safe from any ghostly threats.

When he arrived at the source of the growling, he was surprised to find a massive dog-like ghost with fire in his eyes staring back at him. It was Cujo, one of the most ferocious and powerful ghosts he had ever encountered.

Danny's first instinct was to fight back, but he quickly realized that Cujo wasn't attacking him on purpose. The ghost dog was in pain, writhing on the ground and howling in agony.

Danny carefully approached Cujo, trying to figure out what was wrong. It didn't take long for him to see that the ghost dog was covered in terrible burns and wounds, as if he had been in a deadly battle recently.

Despite the danger, Danny decided to help Cujo. He used his ghostly powers to heal the wounds as best he could, soothing the ghost dog with his gentle touch. Cujo slowly calmed down, his eyes losing their fiery glow.

As Danny turned to leave, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. It was Jack Fenton, his father, who had been tracking the ghostly energy in the area to find Danny.

"What are you doing here, son? And why are you helping that ghost?" Jack asked, surprised.

Danny explained what had happened, and Jack's attitude softened. "Well, I guess it's good to see that you still have a heart for those in need, even if they're ghosts," he said.

The two of them helped Cujo back to the Fenton lab, where Danny and his parents worked together to create a special device that would help heal the ghost dog's injuries more quickly.

As Cujo healed, he became more and more friendly towards Danny and his family. Despite his formidable appearance, the ghost dog was actually quite gentle and grateful for their help.

Soon, Danny found himself spending more and more time with Cujo, playing fetch and going on adventures together. The other ghosts in Amity Park soon learned to fear the duo, as Cujo's powerful abilities combined with Danny's ghostly powers made them an unstoppable force.

In the end, Danny realized that even the most ferocious ghosts could have a soft side. And as for Cujo, he had found a new home and a new friend in Danny Phantom.

Story 3: Write me a funny Danny Phantom fanfic that involves Jack

Danny Phantom: Jack's Latest Experiment (and yes, this is what the AI titled the fanfic)

It was a typical Saturday morning at the Fenton household when Jack decided it was time for his latest experiment. He had been working on a new invention that he was sure would make ghost hunting even easier. However, Danny and his friends were skeptical of Jack's latest invention.

"What's this one supposed to do?" Tucker asked, eyeing the contraption warily.

"It's my latest invention for capturing ghosts," Jack proudly proclaimed. "It's a new and improved Fenton Ghost Net!"

"Um, Dad, that's just a laundry basket tied to a broomstick," Danny deadpanned.

"Exactly! It's genius!" Jack exclaimed, ignoring his son's sarcasm.

"Uh, Jack, are you sure that's a good idea?" Maddie asked, eyeing the makeshift ghost net with concern.

"Of course it is! What could possibly go wrong?" Jack replied confidently.

With a shrug, Danny and his friends followed Jack outside. As soon as they stepped outside, they were met with a glowing blue ghost hovering in midair.

"Alright, let's do this!" Jack yelled, charging at the ghost with his makeshift ghost net.

However, the ghost was too quick for Jack and quickly dodged his flimsy trap. Jack stumbled and fell flat on his face, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

"Dad, I think you need to go back to the drawing board," Danny chuckled.

Undaunted, Jack continued to try and catch the ghost with his laundry basket, but only ended up getting tangled in it instead.

"I got this! I got this!" Jack exclaimed, flailing around in his net.

Finally, the ghost had had enough and took off into the sky, leaving Jack flailing behind. As Danny and his friends doubled over with laughter, Jack continued to wave his ghost net around like a madman.

"Well, I guess it's back to the drawing board for me," Jack muttered dejectedly.

Danny and his friends couldn't help but laugh as they watched Jack stumble back into the house, still tangled up in his makeshift ghost net.

"Looks like Jack's latest experiment was a bust," Tucker quipped.

Danny could only nod in agreement as they all made their way back into the house, still chuckling at Jack's latest ghost hunting mishap.

Story 4: Write me a Danny Phantom fanfic that has Wulf in it.

Danny and his friends had just defeated Skulker and were taking a break in the Ghost Zone when they stumbled upon an unlikely ally – Wulf. Although at first Wulf was hesitant to trust Danny and his friends, he soon realized that they were not like the other humans he had encountered in the past.

Danny explained their mission to Wulf – to protect both the human and ghost world from the evil ghosts that threatened to destroy them. Wulf took an interest in their cause and decided to join them on their journey.

As they trekked through the Ghost Zone, Danny and his friends encountered ghost after ghost. With Wulf by their side, they were able to defeat them all. Wulf proved to be a valuable asset to the team, using his incredible strength and otherworldly powers to help them in battles.

But their mission would not be without its setbacks. Vlad Plasmius had caught wind of Danny’s plans and was determined to stop them at all costs. In a fierce battle, Danny and his friends faced off against Vlad and his army of ghost minions. It was a tough fight, but with Wulf’s help, they were able to pull through and finally defeat Vlad once and for all.

After the battle, Wulf expressed his gratitude towards Danny and his friends. He had never been able to trust humans before, but Danny and his group had shown him that not all humans are bad. Wulf decided to continue helping Danny and his team, offering his strength and knowledge of the Ghost Zone to aid in their future endeavors.

Together, Danny, his friends, and Wulf vowed to protect both the human and ghost world from any threats that may arise, standing tall as the ultimate ghost-fighting team.

The End

And that's the batch I missed, sorry yet again but hey, ya got 4 stories outta it lol.

[jaesxnuwu]

Chapter II: The Adaptive Training Facility

I was playing with first person vs third person perspectives to see what I liked, so sorry for any jumpiness this time.

The young captain let out a soft sigh as he scrolled through the new reports of the day. He reached for his milk tea, taking another generous sip, bracing himself for more tedious work.

“Another increase in robbery and assault cases today, all in my district. What was going on, and where did they keep coming from?” Jae thought to himself.

“There’s way too much distance between each case too, probably too much for them to handle. I would handle this myself but…” Jae’s thoughts trailed off as he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a pain.

It’s not that he was against doing work, but all these extra tasks since he had been promoted to Captain just seemed like a waste of time. Not that he could do much about it.

Knock knock

Speak of the devil.

“Come in”

An older and rugged man passed through the automatic doors. He wore a dark uniform, like the ones issued to all Guard members, with some personal modifications. He had a dark fitted tank top, with matching pants. There were straps and belts fastened throughout the uniform for carrying tools and additional ammunition. He wore a black mask that blended in with his hair so well it was almost difficult to see where each ended.

“Captain. The new recruits are ready for the demonstration,” the soldier spoke stiffly, his glowing amber eyes met Jae’s.

My lieutenant. Apparently, he had been reassigned from a different unit when I was promoted in order to fill out the ranks. I had never met him prior, but he seems like a decent guy. I wish he would lighten up a little though. Maybe it’s because of his age and how long he’s been serving? I noticed a lot of the older guys, well basically everyone here is older than me, but the much older guys tend to be more uptight about rules and protocol.

He managed to get some of his other members to at least engage in some casual conversation with him, but his lieutenant felt like a wall.

“Right. Thanks, for the heads up,” Jae waved him off. He picked up his drink and followed behind his lieutenant.

The hallways were constantly brightly lit with strips of blue light running along the corners. It was usually livelier here with other unit members chatting and walking about, but everyone must have been waiting in the training area. It’s not like they needed to though. The older members probably didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to take a break though, or at least that’s the possibility Jae settled on.

A blast of cold air hit the two men as the doors opened. The sound of chatting and laughter echoed through the room, but things came to a sudden stop as Jae stepped through the doors.

Woops. Didn’t mean to kill the mood, guys.

The Adaptive Training Facility. It was a massive cuboidal room, with large, pure white tiles spread across the floor, walls, and ceiling. The air smelled sterile. There was a single, orange-tinted window high up on of the sides where members could manually adjust the room settings, as well as observe.

Even from the ground level, Jae could tell that the observation room was packed. On the ground level, dozens of his members, trainees and regulars, were standing against the wall, waiting.

Well, what do you know. I think this really might be everyone.

Jae gave a signal to his lieutenant to go join the rest of the members on the side.

“Alright, trainees, new recruits, and all you other members as well apparently who had nothing better to do. Today, I will be showing you how to use the Adaptive Training Facility, which is the room we’re in now.” Jae walked around slowly, making sure to note each of the new faces once more.

“You’ll be using this place a lot to train, so pay close attention. Alden, if you would,” Jae nodded toward the window.

In the blink of an eye, the pure white panels across the room dimmed and began to morph, and in the next moment, the room had transformed into the evening city streets. The newer recruits in the crowd all gasped in excitement at the show before them.

“Thanks to Kalecia’s ingenuity, this room can replicate all kinds of real-life settings. It is not the walls either,” Jae walked over to a streetlight and placed his hand against it.

“Even these structures have a physical form. Of course, the main point of this room though, is this.”

An array of lights danced around together and faded just as quickly as they appeared, as humanoid figures began to take shape in their wake.  Immediately, one of them began charging toward Jae with a sword-like weapon appearing in its hand.

Almost bored, Jae looked over at his first target. Spears of ice materialized around Jae, hovering silently in the air. A small smirk formed on the captain’s face as the spears of cold flew toward the charging humanoid, stopping it and pinning its arms and legs against the building behind. The figure thrashed in place, trying to free itself but it was futile.

Jae turned back to everyone watching.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t human of course, so they don’t feel a thing. But that doesn’t mean they don’t pack just as much of a punch as a real criminal on the streets would, if not more. You will mostly be using these rooms to practice and simulate fights and altercations you will undoubtedly have during your service here.”

“Remember, we are the line of defense that keeps Kalecia from falling to chaos, as I was told to recite,” Jae mumbled the last part to himself.

“Now, let’s continue.”

[dungeonmagister]

Duality of Form

An Armor Spirit Story

Written by Morgan Hall

I was born today, I think.

It is not the first time I was born, but it will hopefully be the last.

The first thing I saw was my own cooling body. I don’t know exactly how long it was sitting there, lifeless. I don’t remember much of anything that happened in the past day.

My thoughts are scrambled, but not clouded. It is as if all my words come out as they come to me instead of being structured as a person might say them. I feel strange in this new body, but not like I don’t belong in it. I had to learn how to see again with these new eyes. I had to learn how to walk again with these new feet. It feels like a hermit crab inhabiting a new shell.. Like a prisoner in a different cage… No..

Like someone born a prisoner who is now free.

I remember the long hours of weaving magic into steel and the longer hours of studying egg shells and practicing the same techniques on fabric and clay. Steel is a difficult medium to bring to life, but it is my specialty. For decades, I have practiced the art of enchanting. Learning sacred words and the corresponding gestures that help make the magic flow through my fingertips just right. It almost doesn’t feel real until the first advanced techniques begin to bear fruit. The glowing crystal ball is a nice trick, but every mage’s first real lesson has them making a crystal ball glow or making a feather levitate inside a glass dome. It feels like a parlor trick. Like a lie. It isn’t until you make your first crawling glove or trinket that turns into a tool that it really starts to feel real.

The Orators can manifest a ball of burning flame or a wall of force, and the alchemists can make a salve that can heal the most devastating injuries imaginable, but it’s all temporary. In seconds, that fire will fade. That salve will be used up. But not my work. As long as there is mana, that glove will crawl again. As long as there is animating spirit, the sword will glow its raging embers. And as long as I am here, this armor will walk, and carry my essence to the next experience. To the next dance. To the next recital. To the next play... To the next lesson.

It feels strange to be something else. Something else that can tirelessly dig this hole in the cemetery. Something else that can lift my body - my old body. It is much lighter than this one. Much older also, assuming you don’t consider how long the various alloys sat in the ground before becoming something new, then becoming something new again. I suppose the same can be said for the mortal form.

It is easy to put it into the box it built. Easier still to position it, and nail it in. If I had only known how comfortable I would be in this new form. How much pain I was really living with in my old body… I think I would have built the casket with these hands.

I spent most of my life living with pain. It never occurred to me how different that experience was from everyone else’s. It’s so hard to sculpt runes when your hands hurt, but I’m still among one of the best. I would have had many more years to sculpt in my old form had I chosen to keep it, but it did not suit me. My old form had particular traits that made it enticing to a certain audience. I never cared much for their desires or their affections, and less still for their lust.

My cohort always assumed I was lying. Like I really did hunger as they did, but I couldn’t prove it. All I could do was exist in my prior form.. A body that would never let me live as I wanted to live. Free from the expectations and desires of everyone else. I wanted companionship - I wanted comradery. It brought me comfort to be around like-minded individuals, and it brought me great joy to spend long hours in the night talking about characters in stories we read, or new and interesting techniques for our studies. But it always seemed to end the same way - With some boorish fool trying to climb on top of me, or convince me to try. It always felt like nothing I wanted any part of.

So I decided to change.

Now, I measure the hole. It is too shallow. So I dig it deeper. Then I lay myself to rest.

The old body, stiff and uncaring, remains perfectly motionless in the box as I lower it into the grave. The helm that is my face cannot cry, but this feels like a moment in which I should. I should cry tears of joy. My old life is over, and I am something new. Like a ship dredged from the depths and built to a new specification.

These thoughts parade through my mind as I put the first layer of dirt onto my coffin. I invited my closest companions to see me off, but they all declined. It hurts to know that they didn’t want me to abandon my old body, but I am still me. I wonder if they want anything to do with me as I fill my grave with dirt, and I cannot help but worry that I am now alone. Truly alone. My family has all died, and as someone who has earned the title of “Wizard”, no apprentice or journeyman mage can speak to me as anything but the master of an art. Especially now that I don’t look at all like the university’s biography describes me.

It is of little consequence. I begin to pack down the dirt and I heft my headstone. It was too heavy for me to lift in my previous body, but now, I can lift it. It is heavier even than my corpse and it’s casket, and it takes significant effort, but it is not beyond me. It slots neatly into the posts on the concrete that I had poured here a week ago.

It occurs to me that I commissioned the marble to have a hole cut in it for flowers. But I brought no flowers. It is such a pity that I am a perfectionist. I have to go into town and buy some now.

From the eastern gate, however, I see someone. A mourner, perhaps? No… my old student. She changed careers and became a wizard herself, only she became a Wizard of Oration instead of enchanting. She changed her mind. And she has a bouquet of flowers.

I wasn’t sure how emotions would feel in this new form, but it’s clear to me that they are not lost. I cannot cry, but I can shake. And shake I do. Violently. If I could sob, I’m sure I would be doing it right now as well. She places the flowers in the hole and looks at me.

“Thank you” is all I manage to say.

“I don’t understand, but you are still my friend” She says back.

I hug her, and she hugs me. The wind stirs, and the clouds creep across the sky. She cries enough for the both of us before either of us is willing to let go.

It has been five days now, and this morning while I was preparing the first lessons for my students next week, some of my old companions must have come to replace the flowers at my grave. Lily of the valley and pink carnations.

I have not met with any of them in our usual place since the end of the last semester..

I think I will try tomorrow…

[starseedfxofficial]

European Markets Surge—What Construction & NVIDIA Mean for Forex The Undercover Trend Boosting European Bourses (And What It Means for You) It’s a good day in Europe—the kind of day when even your skeptical cousin with that “I only invest in crypto” attitude might glance at the green board and give a nod. European bourses opened brightly today, with all major markets moving firmly into the green. Let's decode what this means for you, the savvy trader. European Gains: The Hidden Player Behind the Numbers So, why are the markets glowing like a trader after a winning streak? Well, today it's all about positive risk sentiment. It’s a bit like that feeling you get when you find a winning trade others missed—the Construction & Materials sector is topping the leaderboard, with Tech and Basic Resources tailing close behind. But don’t be fooled; this is no free-for-all. The market’s positive breadth remains relatively narrow, meaning it’s mostly good news, but not quite the fireworks display we hope for. In the background, Real Estate—the sector we all secretly want to love but often let collect dust—is struggling. Blame it on those pesky higher yields. It’s like trying to jump hurdles with a new pair of cement boots. Why Construction & Materials Are Leading—And How You Could Benefit Okay, so Construction & Materials are having their moment, but why? Well, think of it this way: when governments and big players sense a bit of optimism, they often throw a lot of money into big infrastructure projects. And when the money flows, these stocks tend to shine like an old favorite tool pulled out from the back of your toolbox. That’s where you, the Forex insider, can find a unique edge. These infrastructure projects don’t just boost stocks—they stir the pot for currency movements, especially in economies heavily investing in infrastructure. If Europe’s building, chances are the Euro might start to shift gears too. U.S. Equities Hint at a Tepid Rally—Eyes on NVIDIA Across the Atlantic, U.S. equity futures are up, but just barely—like someone hitting snooze on an alarm clock. S&P 500, Nasdaq, and Russell 2000 futures are all moving at a modest +0.2%. Traders are already looking forward to NVIDIA’s earnings like it’s the season finale of their favorite TV show. Spoiler alert: the AI darling could either shoot for the moon or face a bumpy ride, with a 9.9% move priced in by options traders. NVIDIA's earnings are more than just a stock ticker—they're a lighthouse for the tech industry. You see, when NVIDIA’s data center revenue—expected around USD 28.51 billion—is climbing, it’s not just stocks that react. Currency traders watch too, especially those whose economies hinge on tech exports. It's the kind of news that could make tech-heavy currencies wiggle with excitement. NVIDIA, AI, and the Currency Question Here's the kicker: while NVIDIA is an S&P 500 star, its influence casts a long shadow over other tech-heavy indexes and sectors. If the results come in better than expected, we could see a surge in the Nasdaq, followed by moves in Forex markets like the USD/JPY or EUR/USD—currencies typically sensitive to risk-on/risk-off sentiment in the tech space. But what’s even juicier for the in-the-know Forex trader is understanding the supply-side issues NVIDIA faces. With limited supply of their next-gen Blackwell chip, there could be an interesting ripple effect. If tech struggles to keep pace due to component shortages, markets could react negatively, and a sudden risk-off sentiment might push safer currencies (like the Yen) higher. A Quick Thought: Supply Constraints and How You Can Act Remember Morgan Stanley’s note about cautious projections due to supply constraints? That’s a potential goldmine for a contrarian play. If the crowd starts losing its cool over short-term NVIDIA issues, currencies like the Swiss Franc (safe-haven classic) could see some action. Look for opportunities in the news that signal supply delays—it could give you the chance to ride the risk-off wave. How to Use This News for Your Forex Advantage To sum it all up: European markets are up, U.S. futures are taking a cautious step forward, and NVIDIA could make or break today’s mood across the board. If you’re keeping an eye on major currencies, don’t overlook the nuances behind infrastructure booms and tech earnings like NVIDIA—they’re a trader's hidden signal. - Opportunities Today: Watch European data releases that hint at more infrastructure spending. Positive numbers could buoy the Euro. - Tech Watch: NVIDIA’s results could impact broader tech sentiment, with FX implications for the USD, JPY, and potentially even the GBP. - Stay Agile: Supply constraints in tech are an opportunity—if things look tough for NVIDIA, think about safe-haven currencies and risk-off movements. Markets can be a minefield, but with a discerning eye, there’s gold to be found. Stay sharp, stay agile, and as always, use what the big players overlook to carve out your gains. And hey, if you’re looking for even more of these hidden gems, consider joining the StarseedFX community—where insider tips and elite tactics are always just a click away. Latest Forex News | Forex Courses | Community Membership | Free Trading Tools —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article