#POSTS AND COMMENTS THAT LEAVE ME DYING AND BLEEDING ON THE GROUND

[sensivs]

Could you please do a mitsuri x obanai x male reader when mitsuri and obanai died at the infinity castle?

OFC SHMOOKIMS ∩^ω^∩ !!!

(MAJOR INFINITY CASTLE ARC SPOILERS ALONG WITH A BUNCH OF MENTIONS OF BLOOD/MAJOR INJURIES!!!)

(also I didn’t really know if u meant in the infinity castle where yushiro did that little stunt with nakime or when they actually died so I went with them actually dying, if this wasn’t was u requested I’ll be happy to make a separate post!!)

(Females/fem-aligned r free to interact/read just pls don’t act weird and comment fetishizing stuff in my comments)

Everything hurt.. everything… the feeling was absolutely unbearable.. but.. you had to push through.. for mitsuri.. for obanai.. for everyone..

You dragged yourself into an alley, one of muzans blows had hit you straight on the calf and now the entirety of it was gone. You bled everywhere, the burning sensation making you feel like you were on fire.

You ripped a part of your haori off, tying it above your knee to stop the bleeding. You then hoisted yourself up with the brick wall behind you, making the whole getting up process much easier.

You looked across from you only to see mitsuri and obanai, the two sharing a conversation which led Mitsuri to tears. You hated seeing your dear wife cry.. she was sensitive but to an extent..

You hopped on your working leg, making you look a bit goofy but it was whatever. “Y/N!!” Mitsuri yelled out happily, she was happy to see you but you saw in her eyes that she was in despair.

“Y/n.. you must take care of mitsuri while I battle muzan.. okay..? You two are in far worse conditions than me” you looked at obanai as if he had two heads. “You.. you can’t seriously be going out there to fight..! You must stay with us obanai!!” You now saw why mitsuri was crying as you felt warm tears drip down your cheeks.

“I.. I must make sure that muzan’s rain of terror comes to an end.. if I’m able to survive then I surely will come back to the both of you.. but for now you two must stay here with the kakushi” just as obanai was about to leave, you grabbed onto the sleeve of his haori.

“You can’t leave us obanai!! Please.. please don’t leave us..” you saw tears well up in obanai’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away, gently ripping his sleeve away from you. “I’ll be back.. I promise you that” obanai took the hand he put your wedding ring on, giving it a loving kiss before he ran away.

You and mitsuri tried calling him back to no avail. He was going to defeat muzan and that was that. You held onto mitsuri as she cried into the crook of your neck.

You felt numb.. the pain you were experiencing was now (slightly) gone. You held mitsuri close to your chest, her ear connecting to your chest. Listening to the therapeutic beats of your heart.

You tilted your head to the right, watching as the night slowly turned into the morning. You no longer could hear the constant noise of muzan crazing into the ground/building as your brain was slowly shutting down, as if it was going to take a nap.

You then saw obanai make his way to you and mitsuri, your eyes wasted no time to start welling up with tears. “Obanai.. I’m so happy your back..” you quietly said, a smile grew on your face but was quickly shot down as you saw the state of obanai’s face.

“Obanai! Y-Your eyes!!” You wanted to move but you didn’t want to disturb mitsuri. “I’m fine my love.. are you and mitsuri okay..?” “Yes we are but.. her..” you paused for a bit, choking back tears “her heartbeat is slowing down..”

Obanai hummed, he felt around until his hand landed on yours. He then felt it up and down, wanting to cherish your touch. Kaburamaru slid onto obanai’s arm and began making his way to yours, his scales felt weird to say the least but you never made a big deal of them since you knew how much obanai’s snake meant to him.

Kaburamaru then perched himself around your neck, as if he was trying to give you a big hug (he wasn’t choking you or anything but he was applying a bit of pressure on your neck). You sniffled softly as you then grabbed obanai by the arm and pulled him into a tight hug with mitsuri in the middle.

“Ah… obanai.. your back..” mitsuris eyes fluttered open as she took in his once beautiful face. “Oh my.. obanai..” you saw tears prickling mitsuris eyes, she wanted to hold obanai’s face so bad.. but she couldn’t.

Obanai then took off his haori, draping it over mitsuris poor, cold body. “What a gentleman..” you chuckled as you then transferred mitsuri into iguro’s arms. Letting him be able to hold his love.

He couldn’t see her, but she knew that she was being looked down in love by the snake hashira. “Ah.. I don’t feel any pain so.. I guess I’m dying..” you saw the sparkle in mitsuris eyes slowly dull down.

“I’ll probably die soon too. You’re not alone” obanai held mitsuri closer, her head now pressing against his chest. “No.. don’t die yet.. I’m sorry I wasn’t much use in the fight..” mitsuri then began to cry once more.

“Don’t say that mitsuri..! You definitely did damage to that rotten man, your actions will go down in history..” y/n wrapped his arms around obanai’s and mitsuri. Embracing them in a tight, long hug.

“Please.. don’t leave me.. you two..” you sobbed silently with your head pressed against the middle of iguro’s chest. “Please y/n.. live your life as long as you can.. we may be gone, but remember that we’re always with you..” obanai started. “Yes n/n.. you must live and love without us.. but you’ll be fine.. when we are reborn.. we can all be together.. hand in hand.. and love once more..” Mitsuri said through choked sobbed.

You all held onto each other tightly, until the kakushi came around the corner and finally assisted you.

But when you tried removing yourself from obanai’s grip, you found yourself stuck. Turns out, his grip on you was so tight you ended up with a deep, dark bruise on your waist.

extra ending cs I’m feeling nice (*^ω^*)

You worked with your wife in the kitchen of your brand new diner you, your wife and husband had opened. You three could finally live in completion..

“Ah! It’s.. uh.. OH!! YOSHITERU!!” You called out to the boy across the street. His attention shifted to you, the glint already in his eyes glowing bigger.

“Wanna come over here and have a quick snack before school!?” You called out once more, just as he was about to answer, his face contorted into one of fear. Before he quickly shook his head and quickened his pace towards his school.

“Hm? Why’d he turn down the offer? He always gets a quick bite before going to school!” Mitsuri sounded quite sad, “do you know why he left iguro?” You saw your husband jump a bit before turning around and shaking his head, a bead of sweat slowly running down his temple.

..

SOB SOB I LOVE OBAMITSU 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#obanai x reader #obanai x male reader #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri x male reader #demon slayer x male reader

[rowansparrow]

By Any Other Name: Chapter Nine (READ WARNINGS)

Summary: After devastating news, Rex and Reader must rush to stop Fives from taking drastic action.

Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: There are descriptions of a s*icide attempt in both the italicized sections and non-italicized sections of this chapter. When reblogging this, I ask that you please include a trigger warning in the tags for the safety and comfort of others. Thank you. (If you do not like these themes or these things upset you, DM me and I can give you a quick summary of what happens so you can skip this chapter)

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Echo x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 3.3k of pure agony

A/N: Welcome to hell. 

As always, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight 

It hurt. You had not expected it to hurt. After being numb for so long you thought you were beyond feeling, now.

For a brief moment it had succeeded in distracting you. Your grief, your exhaustion, the numbness that had filled your every moment… it all dissipated between one heartbeat and the next as the blood cascaded down your knuckles. The fractured mirror distorted your reflection. A large piece of glass glared back up at you from the basin of the sink. Your blood steadily dripped onto it from where it streamed down your bloodied hands.

The glass had ribboned your hands where you’d struck the mirror, glass jutting painfully from your skin. But all the same, you felt relieved. You could not stand the sight of your own face anymore. Not when Rose wasn’t there behind you, with his beautiful smile and loving eyes.

Picking up the piece of glass from the sink your body sunk down to the ground. You pressed your back weakly against the wall. It would be so easy. So quick. One quick movement and you’d be dead in a matter of minutes..

You absently noted the blood flowing down your arms at an alarming rate. You felt dizzy, cold. You had obviously injured yourself worse than anticipated. Maybe the decision was made for you and now you’d bleed out on your own...

You were still holding the glass in your red hand when you heard the front door open. Dimly, you registered someone calling your name.

You shifted, deciding to lie against the floor instead. The tile cools your hot cheeks and dried some of your tears. The blood from your hands and arms filled the crevices of the tile, inching towards your face.

You’d locked the refresher door. A knock. Someone was calling your name again.

In your feeble state you thought that the voice belonged to Rose. That Rose had come for you. A weak smile pulled the corner of your lips. He’d just come home from his mission. Rose was looking for you. The world grew quiet and dark around you. Cold. But Rose was calling for you. You could feel his hands on you. They were warm. You gasped upon feeling his hot breath against your lips but felt too weak to open your eyes to see him.

“Wake up.” His voice called, barely a whisper.

You let out a soft sound, trying to reach out to him. To reach Rose.

“Wake up.” Muffled, like he was calling to you from far away.

I’m trying, you wanted to tell him. I’m trying, I’m coming, I love you, I’m coming.

The voice grew louder and you suddenly remembered Rose was dead, cold and buried somewhere far, far away. Somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You gripped the glass tighter and the jagged edges dug even deeper into your flesh.

“WAKE UP!!”

Your eyes flew open. The bright light of the bathroom was partially obscured by the face looming overhead. Groaning, you closed your eyes again. Too bright. Too much. 

“No, no – dammit all! Keep your eyes open! You’re okay. You’re okay! You’re going to be fine.” Fives was frantic, his voice higher than you had ever heard it before. Wild panic flared in his expression. One arm wrapped around your shoulders as he half-held you in his lap, the other hand pressing roughly against your wrist.

“You’re going to push the glass in deeper!” Echo snarled somewhere to your left. You caught a glimpse of him tearing through his pack, a med-kit strewn open on the floor before him.

“She’s karking bleeding, Echo! Give me a better solution if you have one!”

“Both of you stop arguing.” Kix’s voice echoed from a comm-link on the floor near Fives’ thighs. “Focus or she’s going to bleed out. Where’s the worst of it coming from?”

“Her palms – n-no, her wrist. Her left wrist.. it’s bad.” Fives said, looking you over quickly. “Kriff, she’s ripped to hell, Kix.”

“Go away.” You mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

“Respectfully, shut up.” Echo replied, focused as he grabbed one of your arms, finding the wounds without glass in them and wrapping them in bacta patches. Your skin burned as the bacta took effect almost immediately.

“Give me the tweezers.” Fives snapped, pulling your other arm up towards him.

“No, your hands are shaking. Focus on keeping her conscious, I’ll handle the glass.” Echo shook his head and you heard him take a steadying breath. “What were you thinking, mesh’la?”

You saw blood – your blood – on Echo’s gloves and Fives’ armor plates. You wondered if Rose had bled when he died too, or if his heart stopped beating instantly.

“You aren’t kriffing dying.” Fives hissed. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud. “Echo? How’s it coming?” He demanded.

“Almost got it.” Echo murmured, his tweezers focused on your hands as he plucked the glass quickly from your skin.

“I’m almost there.” Kix’s voice echoed across the comm-link again. “The Captain is with me.”

“Got it!” Echo was triumphant, flinging the last bit of glass aside and ripping a bandage open with his teeth. He passed a second one to Fives as he wrapped the biggest of your injuries. “This’ll hold until Kix can get a look at her.”

Fives sagged with relief, muttering a prayer to whatever gods were listening before turning his head to the comm-link. “Should we move her?”

“No, keep her still. I’m coming up now.”

You felt Fives’ gloved hand brush against your cheek, clearing away tears you hadn’t realized you’d been crying.

“It’s alright, we’ve got you.” He murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”

~

You lost count of how many hours you’d stayed curled up on the couch, sobbing against your knees.

When Fives had broken the news about Echo you wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to break things, hurt people and wail to the gods; why, why, why would they let this happen again!

But you did none of those things. Instead you took a steadying breath, trying to keep yourself together.

“What can I do?” You whispered. “Fives, what do you need?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Fives seemed oddly calm himself. “I think – think I might be in shock, still.”

“Should I call Rex?” The tears were coming but you kept your voice in check. “Do you want me to meet you at the base? I can wait for you right outside the watch posts -.”

“No. I think I need to be around vode for a little bit.” His voice cracked slightly on the Mando’a word and your heart clenched.

“Okay. I’m here, whatever you need.”

“Are you okay on your own?”

Your heart twisted all over again. Fives had just lost his twin and he was still worrying over you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me. Fives, I’m so sorry.”

“I – I couldn’t keep him safe.” Fives whispered. “Kriff, I’m the last one. I’m the only one left.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one left.” He mumbled. “I can’t.”

“Fives? Talk to me.”

He hadn’t responded. Instead letting the call end with the soft click of his communicator. Then you’d finally allowed the tears to flow.

It was the soft knock on your door that finally pulled you from your stupor. With that, you rose to your feet sluggishly, wiping hot tears as the door slid open.

Rex’s expression softened the second he took in your face. “C’mere.” He murmured, stepping into the apartment and pulling you gently into his arms. His armor was uncomfortable, but you tucked your head against his chest nonetheless, finding comfort in his actions.

“How’s he doing?” Rex asked softly, pulling away and wiping at your tears with his gloved hand. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get over here. I… I came as soon as I could -.”

“Who?” You sniffed, your breathing still a little shaky.

“Fives.” Rex repeated. “Is he in your room?”

“He isn’t – he isn’t here.” You mumbled, taking a slow breath. “He said he wanted to stay with the boys tonight..”

Rex screwed up his face in confusion for a moment. “Okay. Alright, cyar’ika, hang tight.” He guided you back to the couch, settling you against the cushions before heading into your kitchen, talking softly into his comm-link as he went.

“Anybody have eyes on Fives?”

You were too far from him to hear the responses of his men. When Rex returned to you a few moments later with a cup of water, you accepted it gratefully and listened in.

“Negative sir, thought he was dismissed?” Came Hardcase’s response.

“He was. I sent him to Y/Ns’ but he’s not here.” Rex replied, his voice measured.

“He told me he was staying on base.” You repeated.

“I know, little one.” Rex sat a little closer, putting a comforting arm around you. “When we landed, I told him to come straight here and wait for me. I even had Kix file a medical report giving him additional leave.” Rex redirected his attention to his comm. “Kix, have you seen him?” 

“Not since you landed, sir. He came by asking for Downers. Said he just wanted to sleep.”

Rex’s expression darkened. “Did you give him any?”

“Negative. Just told him about the medical leave and sent him on his way.”

There was something about the way Rex’s expression tightened, the way in which his jaw was set a little too tense, that made your gut knot.

“Rex?” You asked him quietly.

“Nobody’s seen him anywhere on base?” Rex repeated.

“I can ask around, sir. But I don’t think he’s here.” Jesse said.

“Maybe he went to 79’s? Or the Lounge?” You suggested.

Rex nodded absently though you could tell he was still concerned. Regardless, he focused back on you. “What do you need?” He asked softly. “Have you eaten?”

“I…” You shook your head, unable to stop your next words. “..I need Echo back.”

You knew it didn’t help anyone to say it but you couldn’t stop yourself. Rex squeezed your shoulder gently though his eyes avoided your own.

“I know, cyar’ika. I know.”

“What – what happened?”

Rex sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “They blew up our ship.” He said finally. “Echo was.. He was too close.”

You felt the tears start up fresh and you buried your face in your hands. Rex’s hand moved to your back and began a soothing rhythm. 

At least it had been quick. Quick and painless, just like Rose -.

Each thought that raced through your brain tumbled over the next, remembering suddenly what you’d been doing before Fives called you.

“Rex,” You lifted your head, swiping at the tears again. “Rex, about – about what happened with -.”

“Hold on.” He cut you off, his communicator beeping at him again as he flicked it on. A little holo-projection appeared before the two of you, a single red blip beeping on the map.

“What is that?” You asked.

“Fives’ location. Er, his armor at least. There are trackers embedded in clone armor, so we can find our people if anyone goes MIA.” Rex answered, distracted, zooming in on the blip. “Looks like he’s right outside the Lounge.”

You frowned and looked a little closer. You recognized the topography, the layouts of the building, the way the blip flickered just slightly off the Lounge itself -.

“Rex.” You murmured. “He isn’t outside the Lounge, he’s above it.” You looked up at him, eyes alit with worry. “He’s on the roof. On the landing platform. I’m sure of it.”

You thought back to his call. The way his voice shook, how unsteady and yet oddly calm his demeanor was. The cadence of his breathing. The fear, the grief, the loss.

“We… We talked before.” You said quietly. “He said he couldn’t be the only one left.”

You had heard stories from your boys. They’d told you about Domino Squad. About how their brotherhood was the only thing that had kept them going through all the loss.

And now Fives was on the roof.

You and Rex both reached the same conclusion. He leapt to his feet, opening your front door and flying down the hall, you hot on his heels. There was no time for hesitance.

“Do you have a speeder?!” Rex shouted over his shoulder. He was darting down the stairs, too impatient to wait for a turbolift.

“Yes!” You shouted back, heart pounding in your chest. You held your communicator in one hand, taking the stairs two at a time as you frantically tried calling Fives. Rex was doing the same thing a few feet in front of you.

His feet hit the ground first, peeling across the hangar bay floor towards the docks. “Which one?!”

“Here!” You shouted back, grabbing your speeder. He swung one leg over and mounted it quickly. You hopped on behind him and held tight to his waist with one arm while your other one kept trying to call Fives. “Fives, pick up!! Answer me!”

A rare Coruscanti thunderstorm peeled across the horizon, rain smacking your face like bullets, despite the bit of cover Rex’s back gave you.

“Kix, how close are you to the Lounge?” Rex shouted into his own communicator, whizzing through traffic as fast as your speeder would go.

“Er, I’m still on base sir, is everything -.”

“Get to the lounge, now!” Rex ordered. “As fast as you can.”

“Yes sir.” Kix knew better than to question the Captain. 

Rex gunned it, forcing you to hold on tighter.

You made it to the lounge in record time. Rex forced the speeder into a slide as he came to a stop right by the front doors. He wasted no time, bolting into the club and vaulting over the bar, booking it for the back stairs. You followed a few breaths behind, taking the stairs two at a time and throwing the doors to the roof open.

The rain battered the rooftop, the neon from surrounding buildings reflecting back onto the rain, but you barely noticed the rain. Your eyes were trained on Rex, his hands raised to the level of his shoulders, extended slightly in front of him in surrender. Ahead of him, gripping the railing of the loading dock with one hand and a blaster pistol in the other, was Fives.

Even from a distance, you could see the wild look in Fives’ eyes. It was easy to see the state of manic desperation he was experiencing. The rain and wind whipped around him, the old dock groaning and jerking in the storm.

“Get down from there!” You shouted, starting to move towards him. It was then that you realized the blaster pistol in his hand was trained on Rex. Then as you took a step forward, it moved to you instead.

“DON’T KARKING MOVE!” Fives shouted. Lightning cracked behind him, briefly illuminating all three of you.

Rex shifted immediately, pushing you behind his back with one hand and keeping the other extended. “Easy, soldier.” He called, blinking away the rain on his lashes.  “Come down off that thing. Let’s talk, alright?”

“I’m not going to talk to you about a kriffin’ thing!” Fives shouted back, switching the blaster back to Rex. Whether it was rain or tears on his face, you couldn’t be sure. You thought it might have been both. “You made me leave him!”

“He was gone, Fives!” Rex said, shaking his head. “You know that.”

“No! Y-you left him to die!” Fives’ voice broke, the blaster shaking in his grip. His hair clung to his forehead as the rain continued its barrage against him.

Fives gripped the blaster tighter and straightened up slightly to square his shoulders. “I’m done taking orders.” He snarled. “I’m not going to be a pawn anymore! Not to you, not to anyone else.”

“Fives,” Rex warned and took another step forward. Fives pulled the blaster towards himself, driving it up under his chin instead.

“I can’t do this, sir.” He whimpered, pressing the barrel against his jaw. “I can’t.” His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Fives, think about what you’re doing!” Rex shouted, stepping forward again. “Stop!”

“I wish it had been you.” Fives gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Alright!” Rex threw his hands in the air again. “Alright, be angry at me! Hate me all you want, I can handle that! But don’t punish her like this.”

Fives looked at you for just a moment. His dark eyes swirled with a pained melancholy that broke your heart. HIs posture seemed to dip inwards. Rex continued.

“You get to be angry at me. Gods know I’d be angry too.” Rex called, inching closer to the platform. “But she’s right here, Fives. She’s watching you. Don’t make her watch this. This is between you and me, yeah? Don’t bring her into this.”

Fives hesitated.

You inched around Rex, keeping your hands outstretched in front of you like Rex had been doing, reaching for Fives. “It’s okay.” You said, your own tears streaking your cheeks as you edged onto the platform with him. “It’s okay. Let’s just go home, okay? We can go home, Fives. We can just go home.”

You realized he was shaking, his breathing ragged as tears and rain soaked his face. He crumbled in on himself, the blaster lowering just slightly as you cupped his cheeks in your hands.

“Come on. Put it down. Let’s go home.”

Fives leaned into your touch and gripped the gun tighter.

“It’s not home anymore.”

He brought the blaster back under his chin and closed his eyes.

“Fives, don’t!!” 

Your scream was lost in the sound of the thunder, wind whipping the platform once again and knocking you and Fives off-balance. His blaster went off, the stray bolt sailing up into the dark sky instead of into his head as the platform creaked dangerously. The sudden jolt forced Fives to his knees and the blaster clattered out of his hand. The metal dipped, the platform dropping at a sharp angle, threatening to fall entirely. You landed in a roll, tumbling down the slippery metal, your hands scrambling for purchase as the platform went out from under you. You heard Rex shout your name and a beat later a hand was on your bicep, hauling you off the ground and shoving you back towards the stable ground of the roof.

You connected with the hard plastoid of Rex’s armor, Fives scrambling off the platform right behind you as the entire thing collapsed moments after you’d landed on the roof. You listened to the groan of metal as it broke away from the rooftop, descending from the sky until it clattered against the ground below. The sound reverberated across the buildings around you.

For a while the three of you were frozen in place, squinting through the rain at the empty space where the landing platform had occupied only moments ago.

“Sir!” Kix’s voice echoed from the far-end of the rooftop, the medic’s boots skidding through the puddles and coming to a stop beside the three of you. “Are you alright? What the kriff happened?”

“We’re okay.” Rex managed, turning to Fives. The ARC Trooper’s sobs had returned but were reduced to little more than gasping breaths, trying to steady himself in the aftermath of what he’d almost done.

Rex wrapped an arm around both of you, pulling you both against his shoulders and closed his eyes. Relief.

“We’re okay.” 

---

TAG LIST:  @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex @bubblegumcat229

#tw suicide #cw suicide #ro writes #by any other name #BAON #OC Rose #Ro's OCs #Captain Rex x Reader #Rose x Reader #Echo x Reader #Fives x Reader #ARC Trooper Fives x Reader #Star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #tcw

[today-only-happens-once]

out of focus

title: out of focus

word count: 3955

summary: 

The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other. 

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?” 

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Warnings: burns (description of), violence, threats of violence, discussion of canonical child abuse, characters curse but no curse words are written, character is non-permanently injured, yelling/arguing, trauma

A/N: me? writing a zukka AtLA fic and posting it an hour short of midnight? Apparently, it’s more likely that you’d think. 

Read on AO3

--

Zuko has the patience of a saint, Sokka thinks to himself.

It’s an unusual thought, he realizes. A year ago, if you’d told Sokka that he’d come to think of the Banished Prince as ‘patient’, he’d probably have thrown his boomerang at you. A year ago, Zuko was one of the most short-tempered people he knew. A year ago, Zuko was the face of the enemy.

A lot changes in a year.

Sokka barely stifles a frustrated sigh. The attempt does not seem to go unnoticed by Zuko, who glances at him quickly before the corner of his mouth twitches with something like amusement. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Sokka can’t help but feel that very little progress on the treaty had been made. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Sokka knows, but war leaves messy problems in its wake. He knows that both the literal and metaphorical shrapnel left behind by a century of conflict can’t be swept away in a night or a week or a month.

It doesn’t make these meetings any easier to sit through.

“I want immediate release of all prisoners of war,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador demands.

“I second that,” Sokka hears his father--sitting across the table from him--add, a bit more calmly but no less firm. “I have men in those prisons that haven’t seen their family in a decade.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies at the same time a Fire Nation soldier snaps, “absolutely not.”

Zuko levels a hard look at him. “Admiral, people who were arrested as prisoners of war have no need to remain so after the war has ended.” He looks to Hakoda, then to the Earth Kingdom ambassador. “I’ll draft that mandate tonight and will ensure it’s circulation as soon as possible.”

“This is an outrage!” The slam of a fist against the table makes Sokka’s hand fly to the boomerang strapped to his hip instinctively. The admiral is on his feet.

“Admiral,” Zuko says, his voice steely as he rises from his own chair. The Fire Nation soldier cuts him off.

“Where is the justice for the Fire Nation families whose sons and daughters were slaughtered by those criminals?”

“Admiral--”

“I remember a time when you cared about Fire Nation soldiers! And it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten, seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror--”

“Enough!” Zuko snaps. “You will watch your tongue or you will be escorted out. You approach insubordination.”

“You are a child,” the admiral sneers. “Though one that ought to know a thing or two about insubordination, given your father’s attempts to brand you with a permanent reminder of its consequences--”

“Warriors!”

“Then again, he always was twice the leader you will never be. Long live the Phoenix King!”

Sokka sees the warning signs—the slight shift of weight, the clench of the man’s fists—and leaps to his feet. “Zuko--!”

“Sokka!”

There’s a blinding light and scorching heat. Sokka feels something slam onto his shoulder and he dives instinctively for cover as the familiar roar of a fireball explodes in front of him. The flames are bright and lick around him, and Sokka throws a hand up to protect his face. He blinks the spots from his vision as he yanks his boomerang out of his belt.

Zuko is standing beside him, his stance ready and his hand outstretched, having evidently dispelled the fireball that had been launched at him. Sokka leaps back up to his feet and hurls the boomerang in his hands towards the Admiral, hitting his hand right as he moves to launch another attack and forcing it to go wide. A burst of flames slam against the wall to the left.

The room is in chaos.

Sokka barely hears the shouts of alarm and curses over the roar of dying flames. He sees his father, already on his feet, diving underneath a bolt of red fire. Across the room, the Earth Kingdom ambassador jerks their hand. There’s a rumble in the ground before it rises and anchors around the Admiral’s feet, holding him in place.

Sokka sees the admiral’s gaze meet his own and narrow. The Fire Nation soldier bares his teeth in a snarl, his fist shooting out. Before Sokka can blink, Zuko steps in front of him, dispelling the flames just as the door ricochets open. Two Kyoshi Warriors flood in and in a series of quick strikes, the admiral drops. Awake, but limp.

Sokka thinks idly that he’s grateful that Ty Lee taught them how to block chi.

“Your father should have killed you that day!” the admiral shouts as he’s dragged through the doors. “He showed mercy on your pathetic, worthless—” the door slamming shut cuts him off.

The silence that follows makes Sokka’s ears ring. He can still feel stale adrenaline coursing through him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. For a moment, nobody moves. Zuko awkwardly clears his throat.

“Apologies for the, uh, disruption. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Firelord Zuko,” Hakoda assures him, but there’s something odd in his father’s expression when he looks at Zuko that Sokka doesn’t understand.

Zuko says something in response, but Sokka doesn’t catch it. As the adrenaline bleeds out of him, his muscles relaxing, Sokka realizes that his fists are still clenched. Sokka forces them to relax, and hisses as it sends a jolt of hot pain through his left hand. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin on the top of part of his hand near his knuckles is a blistering, angry red.

Sokka’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed. Zuko looks at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn together in confusion before his eyes fall to Sokka’s hand. Then, they go wide.

Zuko turns back around suddenly to address the room, his back straighter. “We will adjourn the meeting for the afternoon. We will reconvene tomorrow.”

“Firelord Zuko—” an ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe protests, but Hakoda interrupts him.

“I think we could all use a breather, Kovrik. Coming back tomorrow with a clear head is a good decision.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

Sokka is finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. His hand hurts, and it’s taking every last drop of his willpower and pride to grit his teeth and swallow back the whimper that wants to push up his throat. It’s not until Zuko’s face is taking up his entire field of vision that Sokka realizes everyone but the two of them and his father have left the room.

“Let me see,” Zuko says quietly, then curses under his breath when he looks at Sokka’s hand. “Where’s Katara when you need her.”

“Do you have anything that can help?” Hakoda asks from behind Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replies, his brows still furrowed in concentration. “Though it’s not quite as immediate as waterbending healers. But it should help with the pain, and prevent infection. Follow me.”

Sokka feels Zuko take his elbow and guide him out the door of the meeting room and down the hall. He’s distantly aware that Zuko is moving quickly—not quite a jog, but only barely shy of it—through a network of corridors. His hand feels like it might still be on fire, and Sokka looks down at it again just to be sure that’s not actually the case. He tells himself that he’s endured injuries more painful than this. The broken leg was worse, he thinks, though it does little to actually help with the burning sensation in his hand.

He’s vaguely aware that Zuko says something quickly to two guards that are flanking a set of doors before he rushes in. Sokka looks up and realizes it’s Zuko’s chambers. He’d only been in here a couple of times before, largely while Zuko was still recovering from Azula’s lightning strike in the weeks following the end of the war.

“Wait here,” Zuko tells him before disappearing through another door on the far side of the room.

“You had good reflexes in there,” Sokka hears his father’s low, soothing voice speak up. He’d had almost forgotten he was there. Hakoda moves the chair that had been beside the bed closer to Sokka in a clear direction to sit down.

“Lots of practice,” Sokka replies as he sits. He hisses a little again as his hand flares and grits out a swear behind clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Hakoda says softly. He places a bracing, comforting hand between Sokka’s shoulder blades. It’s grounding, and he’s grateful.

“Wish Katara was here,” Sokka tells him, echoing Zuko’s comment from earlier.

“I know. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s coming to Caldera for a while. She’s still in Ba Sing Se with Aang.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Her magic water comes in handy though.” Sokka gives his father a tight smile. “Get it? Hand-y?”

Hakoda snorts just as the door opens again. Zuko has his arms full of a large bowl, his hands fisting a few vials and some bandages. There’s something pinched about Zuko’s expression, and the way he doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes as he kneels in front of him feels odd. The bowl is full of water, Sokka realizes, as he sets it on the ground and begins to empty the vials into it.

“Can I see your hand?” Zuko asks, and the question—for some reason—catches him off guard.

Sokka blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He grimaces as he places his hand in Zuko’s, but the excessive gentleness surprises him so much that Sokka almost forgets that his hand hurts.

Zuko was many things, but Sokka can’t remember a time—even after he started to get along with the Fire Prince—that he would have described Zuko as gentle. But his grip on Sokka’s hand is careful. Almost excessively so.  

Zuko hums in the back of his throat as he inspects the burns. “I don’t think it’ll have permanent damage,” he says quietly. “But I still need to treat it so it doesn’t get infected. It… might hurt, a little. But then it should feel better.”

“No permanent damage. That’s good,” Sokka says. He swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

For a long moment, the only sounds that fills the room is the quiet splash of water in the bowl as Zuko submerges the cloth rag again and wrings it out. Sokka lets his gaze float around the room.

Zuko has left it mostly bare. There’s a portrait of Iroh and a woman that Sokka remembers being the Fire Lady—Zuko’s mother—hanging on the wall near the headboard of the bed. On the dresser beside it is a drawing that Sokka did of the group of them months ago. He sees a pile of papers on the desk across the room. He thinks one of them has Aang’s signature at the bottom, but it’s too far away for him to know for sure.

Bright, painful heat searing his hand slams his attention back to Zuko in front of him and Sokka yelps, yanking his hand away. Zuko grimaces, retracing his own hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more earnest than Sokka expects. “This part is painful, but it’ll stop hurting in a minute.”

Sokka fights to pull his breathing back under his control. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “Right,” he manages, his voice tight. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it hurts.”

Something about that line—and about the fact that Zuko still hasn’t met his eyes since returning from the other room—drags Sokka’s thoughts back to the conversation in the treaty meeting. There were several things that the admiral had said to Zuko that Sokka didn’t quite understand. He could only remember pieces of things said, but they repeat in Sokka’s head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle that he can’t quite make fit together.

seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror… insubordination… your father’s attempts to brand you… consequences…

Sokka’s gaze falls back to Zuko, dutifully bowed in front of him. There had long been pieces about Zuko that Sokka had found puzzling. Things about him that didn’t quite fit together. Sokka considers himself a person pretty good at figuring out how things worked together, and that extended (with less success) to figuring out how parts of people make up the sum of their whole.

Zuko, though… Zuko had always been something of a mystery. But as the words of the admiral ricochet in his mind, there’s a picture beginning to come together that is still just a little too hazy, a little too out of focus, to fill in the spaces that Sokka felt were missing.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Sokka’s brow furrows as Zuko presses the rag to the back of his hand again. Sokka realizes that his hand has stopped hurting, but he’s too preoccupied with what Zuko said to pay it much mind. “After the stuff at Ba Sing Se? When you went home?”

“No, I, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “Before that. Before… yeah. Earlier.”

Your father’s attempts to brand you…

“What happened?” Sokka asks. The way Zuko’s shoulders seem to tense doesn’t escape his attention, and there’s a part of him that wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But it also feels like a question that once asked, is too late to take back.

Zuko pats Sokka’s hand dry with another towel and begins to gingerly wrap a bandage around it. He keeps his gold gaze steady on the work. Sokka keeps his gaze steady on Zuko.

“My uncle allowed me to attend a war meeting where they were talking about some battle strategies to use against an Earth Kingdom battalion. There was a general that wanted our newest fleet to serve as a distraction while we mounted an attack from the rear,” Zuko begins. There’s something off about his voice, though. Something detached and careful. He keeps wrapping the bandage. Around and around and around.

Sokka frowns. “That’s not fair,” he says. “Your newest recruits? They’d be slaughtered by an experienced battalion like that.”

Zuko sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he says in a low voice. “And that’s what I told them. I wasn’t thinking. I just… yelled at him.” Sokka opens his mouth to disagree—it sounds like Zuko was thinking, unlike anybody else at that meeting—but Zuko cuts him off as he secures the end of the bandage to Sokka’s palm. “My father didn’t… take it well. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be facing the general in it, so I accepted.”

Zuko gathers the bowl and empty vials as he stands, crossing the room to set them on the edge of his desk. Sokka stands up slowly as Zuko does so. The pieces that had been out of focus for so long are starting to come together, and Sokka feels his stomach rolling with a leaden weight against what he can sense is coming.

“No…”

“It wasn’t the general,” Zuko continues, his voice so quiet that Sokka is sure he would have missed it if it hadn’t been dead silence around them. “It was my father.”

“You faced your father in an Agni Kai?”

“Not exactly. I…” Zuko stares down into the bowl of water beside him, his gaze distant. “I couldn’t fight my own father. Instead, I begged him for forgiveness. I was met with a fistful of flames.”

Zuko gestures vaguely at his face, and Sokka’s blood turns to ice.

“He…” Sokka’s throat closes, cutting off the rest of that sentence. All this time being chased by Zuko—all this time being friends with him—and he’d always assumed that the scar was the result of a training accident, or a fight with a firebender he lost. Sokka thinks bitterly and viciously that the second assumption wasn’t far off but his own father—

“I was banished after that,” Zuko says, and his voice is hollow and empty and wrong. And he finally, finally, meets Sokka’s gaze. “I was told to bring the Avatar back and all would be forgiven, or to not come back at all. That was before you and your sister woke Aang up from the iceberg.”

Sokka stands very, very still. He glances down and realizes his hands are trembling. He curls the non-bandaged one into a fist to get the shaking to stop. “How old were you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why—of everything he could say—that’s the question that tumbles past his lips, but he feels like it matters.

“Thirteen.”

“Thir—” Sokka cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and swallowing hard. “Thirteen. Tui and La, when I was thirteen—”

Sokka breaks off again, his throat closing, his gaze falling to his father. When Sokka was thirteen, his father had left to go fight in the war and told Sokka he couldn’t come along. He’d protected Sokka, and though Sokka had found his way into fighting in the war regardless a few years later, he knows his father had only been trying to keep him safe. The idea of his own father striking him—let alone with a fist full of flames to his face—was incomprehensible.

Hakoda doesn’t look back at Sokka. His gaze is trained on Zuko, and there’s something in his eyes that Sokka doesn’t quite understand. But he’s seen it before. It was the same look Hakoda wears when he hears other water tribe soldiers recount war stories. The late-night ones. The ones where their voices betray the weight on their shoulders and tremble with the generations of nightmares on their backs.

Sokka takes a sudden, faltering step forward, and Zuko instinctively tenses. Sokka freezes. “Zuko…”

Zuko shakes his head. He coughs a little, as if trying to clear his throat. “Anyway. That’s—that’s what the admiral was talking about.”

“You…” Sokka tries again, his voice carrying just the barest hints of hysteria. “You were his kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Zuko’s gaze meets Sokka’s again. “He spent most of my life wishing I wasn’t.”

“Zuko,” Hakoda speaks up, his voice a low, soothing rumble to Sokka’s trembling nerves. “I… hope you understand that you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know, sir,” he replies, sounding steadier than Sokka feels. Sokka feels a little like the ground has shifted beneath his feet as he stares at his friend across the room. Zuko continues, frustratingly calm. “It… I didn’t at first. It took me a long time to understand that it was wrong of my father to do that. But I know now.”

“Where is he?” Sokka demands, flushing with a sudden and intense fury.

Zuko blinks, looking taken aback by the vehemence charged through Sokka’s voice like a steel rod. “Where’s who?”

“Ozai.”

“Sokka, what are you gonna do? Fight him? He already lost.”

“Against Aang, not against—did Aang even know?”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I guess I don’t know. I never told him. I… never told any of you.”

“Yeah—and what’s that about, huh?” Sokka demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, but Sokka’s words are already bubbling up throat and spilling past his lips, hot and bitter and angry.

“What, did you think we wouldn’t care? That it wouldn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko waves a hand towards the window that overlooks the courtyard. “My father already lost to the Avatar, Sokka. The war is over. The fighting is over. Aang took his bending. And that—I don’t know about you, but that’s the best, most justified end to his legacy I can think of.”

Sokka is still shaking. He can’t explain why. He knows, logically, that Zuko is right. He’s right. But Sokka can still feel his hands shaking, can still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with the urge to run something through with sword, can still feel the way his eyes sting with tears he won’t let fall. Sokka clenches his jaw and rips his gaze away from Zuko out towards the window, where he can see the sun setting on the horizon and painting the palace courtyard in an orange light.

“Wherever he is, I hope he rots,” Sokka says finally, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. “He deserves worse.”

Sokka looks back at Zuko, whose gaze is a little wide. He looks… taken aback. Sokka cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you disagree—"

“No,” Zuko replies, shaking his head. “I just… Nothing.” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Sokka doesn’t understand why, just like he doesn’t understand why it uncoils the tight knot of burning anger in his chest.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Wills himself to relax. It helps… a little. There’s a beat, and then Sokka hears his father take a step forward. “Thank you for helping Sokka’s hand, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, and Sokka swears his cheeks take a faint pink tint as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, of course, sir. And… just Zuko is fine.”

Sokka glances over and sees Hakoda smile, inclining his head. “Understood.” He looks to Sokka. “I should draft a letter to Bato tonight to update him on the treaty. Will you be okay without me?”

Sokka rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yeah, dad. I think I can manage.”

Hakoda squeezes his shoulder, nods to Zuko again, and quietly slips out of the room. The silence afterward seems to stretch, and Sokka feels the lingering tension bleeding out of him as he looks at Zuko, who quietly shuffles through the papers on his desk. Sokka watches him for a beat, his gaze lingering a little on the scarred tissue across his face. Sokka swallows.

There are other questions Sokka thinks he could ask. Like why—after doing that—Zuko was still so bent on returning home to his father. But there’s a part of Sokka that thinks he maybe understands.

Spirits know that he understood what it was like to crave the approval of your father.

“Hey,” he says, and Zuko’s gaze snaps over to him. “I… thank you for telling me. I… know that wasn’t easy, and… it means a lot that you trust me with that.”

“It… it wasn’t a question of trust, you know,” Zuko replies quietly, averting his gaze. “Not telling you, I mean. It was just—”

“I know,” Sokka says, and means it. “But I also know what it’s like to have things you don’t necessarily… want to relive. So it means a lot that you told me.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches again. He takes a deep, slow breath. “Thank you for listening,” he says.

“I like to think I’m a pretty good listener,” Sokka teases, shrugging.

“You are,” Zuko says, with far more sincerity than Sokka felt was warranted for what he’d meant to be a joke. Sokka blinks at him, and Zuko clears his throat, ducking his head a little. “I was thinking of getting some tea. There’s a place just outside the palace. It’s not as good as Uncle’s, but um. Did you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Sokka replies with a small smile. “I could use a cup of tea.”  

#avatar the last airbender #zukka #zukka fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #zuko #sokka #not ts #we interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to give you this fic for an unrelated fandom woops

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 1

Introductions

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: Explicit (for future chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Blood, Injury, Longing, Pet names

A/N: After the feedback on my preview, I decided to make this into a full-fledge fic. This chapter is a little slow in terms of action but I wanted to establish some things before we dived into filth. I’m honestly so excited and I hope y’all enjoy. Comments and feedback always appreciated. ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing 

Chapter 2

P.S. Mira is an OC I created for this story and she will be in future chapters.

P.P.S. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer that forum.

Summary: You run into a Mandalorian who wants to repay a debt. Little did you know you'd meet the most alluring man along the way. Din Djarin.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes, I have,” you sighed.

“And?”

“I accept"

—

You can’t recall when the calm began and the fighting ended. For most, the lines between peace and war blurred a long time ago. It certainly affected the locals of the planet you were currently living on. Manual labor was the only thing you could offer to the galaxy, picking up jobs here and there to buy rations of food. Scavenging for metals, digging, harvesting, and menial tasks were all that made up your day. You survived this long, longer than your family, longer than most of the galaxy, but it felt part of you had died long ago.

After the empire, life was truly never the same for anyone. They drained the galaxy of everything it had, leaving destruction and barrenness in its wake. The Imps had caused most of the galaxy to become a shell of what it once was, the only thing that seemed to thrive was lawlessness. You saw it in the faces of people in the market, in the seemingly empty homes that ran alongside the town, an emptiness that was buried deep in wounds trying so desperately to heal.

Everyone tried to live their lives just as they have done before. Children still played in the streets, people walked together laughing, but the happiness was only skin deep, masking the grief of the galaxy. It was something that ate away at you, an emptiness that created a growing void over time. You could feel your mind falling away, going numb to the routine of your life. Your conscious embraced something that seemed to root from deep inside you, it had burrowed into your soul one ago, slowly eating away at the rest of you. It was becoming suffocating, exhausting you past the point any manual labor could. You feared you would never escape its clutch. Living and working and dying on this horrible little planet, where no one would miss you. Your loneliness became your one solace and your worst enemy. Alone, all you could do was immerse yourself in work, trying desperately to hold onto something you never had in the first place. It was a vicious cycle you weren’t sure could ever be broken. That was until the woman happened.

You couldn’t remember exactly what transpired. How any of it happened really. It was a day like any other, just as routine and conventional as they had been since you got here. You do remember being smacked across the face with something hard, falling to the ground. The taste of copper flooding your senses, and wetness pouring down your face. You had reached up to cradle yourself, blood seeping through your fingertips.

Everything surrounding that moment was a blur. The woman had offered her hand, apologizing for the injury. You had seen her before; walking through the market and even arguing with some of the townsfolk. She was truly hard to miss, she walked with a swagger of confidence and carried practically every weapon known to the galaxy on her back. She was always dressed in a maroon color, her armor is the only thing that offsets the monochromatic trend. It was much different than anything she had seen before.

If anyone else stood in her place you would've fled fearing the worst, but your mind was muddled, unable to comprehend the Mandalorian standing above you. Something was different about her, at least from the other mercenaries that came through. You had witnessed her differing moral compass at work before. She once threatened a man who came through town, a common criminal like most who came through. Unlucky for him, he robbed one of the places she frequented, taking the entirety of the merchants’ earnings. Everyone, including yourself, just stood by, too afraid of the confrontation. She, however, intercepted him before he could leave, disarming him quickly and leaving his unconscious body on the ground. She gave the credits back to the merchant.

“There is no honor among thieves,” she had huffed, annoyed with the disturbance of her day.

As she turned to leave you spoke up, asking her why she had even bothered.

“This is the way.”

—

“How long have you lived on this planet?” She inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Her helmet glinted in the sunlight, causing her presence to practically glow in the shade of the alleyway.

“Long enough,” you huffed, holding a cloth to your nose trying to reduce the bleeding. Why would she ask such a question? Since when did Mandalorians care for small talk?

“You don’t like it?” The woman didn’t sound surprised. Her tone rolled in an almost sarcastic way.

You just huffed in response. You hoped if you seemed uninterested the woman would leave you alone. It felt like an interrogation, intimidated by the domineering presence of a Mandalorian. At this point, you just wanted to return to your day, no matter how draining it would be.

“Would you like to leave?”

Those words rang in your ears, echoing even now as you sat in the belly of the woman’s ship, being carted off to a planet unrecognizable. The dizziness from earlier seemed to subside, especially since the woman gave you a shot of some sort, claiming it would help.

“Where are we going?” you mumbled.

“To my clan,” the woman responded, busying herself with the controls in front of her.

“Your clan?”

“To my home,” she clarified, not bothering to look up. “You will be welcome there and can rest, heal.”

“You’re taking me to your home because of this?” you gestured to your face, no doubt bruised and blooded. If it looked as bad as it had felt, you were sure it wasn’t pretty.

She paused in her actions, thinking carefully about her next words.

“It is my fault you sustained these injuries, you were innocent and did not deserve my wrath. Therefore, I will make sure you are healed and it will be much more comfortable for both of us if we return to my clan.”

The Mandalorian seemed unbothered by the notion of taking a stranger back to her home as if she does it regularly. But you figured it didn’t concern you. If this Mandalorian and her clan lived up to the stories you heard, they weren’t afraid of anyone.

“What’s your name?” you asked. If you were going to be staying, you couldn’t keep referring to her as “the woman.”

“You can call me Mira.”

—

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. You eventually moved to sit with Mira in the cockpit. Watching as she worked to prepare the ship for landing. You wondered what Mira’s home would be like. The Mandalorians were known to be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You had heard the stories before; tales of battle, triumph, and loss. Stories of the most formidable soldiers in the galaxy.

Regret started to cloud the corners of your mind. Fear of what you had gotten yourself into seeped into your chest, tightening your rib cage with each breath you took. Truly, you had no desire to stay and heal with Mira, you mainly wanted to escape her life previously. Opportunities to leave we’re few, especially with no status in the New Republic. When Mira had offered, there was no hesitation to get off that forsaken planet. You weren’t sure if things went sour you would be strong enough to get yourself out of it.

When the ship fell out of hyperspace, Mira’s home finally came into view. It definitely wasn’t what you expected, it was such a beautiful and peaceful looking place, tucked away in the far corners of the galaxy.

The planet was covered in a green lushness, the sky littered with enormous clouds that reflected the sun giving them faint hues of color. As you entered through the atmosphere, you saw the planet was lined with dense areas of forest. Trees reached the heavens, with fat brightly colored leaves adorning them. The forests stretched for most of the planet's surface, with large mountains that loomed far in the distance.

Mira landed in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Some other ships surrounded them, you recognized a few of the models from your time working as an apprentice. You figured these probably belonged to the rest of Mira’s clan. Mira couldn’t have been the only one who left the planet.

You stood staring at the mountains while Mira unloaded your ship. You had never seen a place this mesmerizing in your life. The sun was beginning to set, painting the landscape in red and purple rays. The air was fresh and crisp, filling your lungs with a gentleness you hadn’t felt in years. Everything seemed so bright and livid compared to your previous homes.

Mira called for you, climbing onto the back of a speeder driven by an R2 unit, loaded with supplies. You murmured an apology, settling among the crates and stretching your feet in front of you, Mira did the same mirroring her position.

“It will take some time to get to the village.” Mira’s tone was passive, in a matter of fact sort of way.

You gave a nod to let her know you heard her. As you tried to sleep, cushioned by the bags lining the speeder, you were reminded of the dull ache still permeating your face. The excitement of arrival had clouded the pain, but as you sat consumed by only your thoughts, it returned. Your face was no doubt swollen and puffy. You just hoped your nose wasn’t broken, you hoped it was nothing more than some swelling. Exhaustion was creeping up, and you wanted to succumb to it but the persistent throb of pain kept you from it.

Suddenly the speeder came to an abrupt halt, jolting you to the side.

“We’re here,” Mira started getting up and slinging sacks of supplies over her shoulders. “Follow me.”

You got up to follow as quickly as your legs would let you, holding onto the crates for support, your balance became unsteady as the pain pulsed harder. Whatever Mira originally gave you was wearing off. Before you could step foot off the speeder you were overwhelmed by the presence of what you can only gather is Mira’s clan.

People rushed to the speeder to help unload, brushing past you except for a curious glance. Most of them wore helmets like Mira, some of them didn’t. Either way, it was hard to keep track of the direction Mira moved. You were sure you’d lost her until you saw the glint of her helmet ahead.

That woman moves entirely too fast.

You continued to follow her, securing your own bag across your shoulders. You tried to move quickly, bumping into people on the way. You apologized to everyone you ran into, which was seemingly the entire clan at this point. You could feel the embarrassment rising, you just wanted to find Mira and it was getting frustrating at this point. It was hard to focus on the surroundings with the pain shooting through your skull. You nearly fell and ran into something you were sure was a wall. It was firm whatever it was and caused you to wince, jolting back from the pain that pulsed in her face.

“Easy,” a voice said that was much deeper than Mira’s.

Arms came up to steady you, and a warmth radiated towards you. You looked up and saw a dark visor staring back at you that was certainly not Mira’s

He was a Mandalorian but stood out from the rest in a way that demanded attention. His authoritative demeanor rolled off him in ways. His helmet was shiny and unlike Mira’s, two large tusks jutted out from the bottom, curling around to the front of his mask. His clothes were the same deep maroon Mira donned. He wore a cape with a large fur that sat on his pauldron covered shoulders, draping down his back. His forearms were accented with sleeves made of leather and cloth that bleed into a tattooed pattern tracing along his arms. Yet, his chest was bare except for the necklaces he wore; round beads and animal teeth were woven together to sit in the middle, set off by the toned muscle of his chest and torso. At his waist was a thick belt with a large buckle resting in the middle. It shone with the same luster as his helmet, it was molded into the shape of some creature. It seemed familiar but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

His fingers lightly traced your chin, bringing your eyes back up to his visor. You didn’t realize you were just standing there, ogling over him. It was entirely unintentional, you had never seen anything like him before. You felt scolded like a child, almost embarrassed by your staring. Face suddenly growing very hot under his gaze.

“You must watch where you’re going,” his hushed baritone hit her ears, “or you’ll hurt yourself.” That voice quite possibly the most heavenly sound you had heard. You willed herself to speak but nothing came out, your mind was completely blank. It was as if you were stuck, only able to stare back up into this stranger.

“It’s a little too late for that,” Mira appeared to his right, arms crossed over her chest. The man turned to her and offered Mira a greeting in an unfamiliar language. They shook, hands clasped together at the forearms as if they were old friends.

“Who is this sweet girl?” The man asked, turning back towards you. The name he called you did not go unnoticed, and you felt your face getting even hotter. Mira began to explain the details of your meeting.

Mira refers to your injuries, and gently takes your chin and tilts your head so the Mandalorian can examine it better. Your instincts told you to run, to go anywhere else but here, but you remained planted firm to the ground. They were so close to you, examining as if you were just some object. You couldn’t even see their faces and yet they overwhelmed you. You had never wanted to disappear so badly at that moment.

They continued conversing in whatever native tongue they possessed. You stood there feeling much too exposed for your liking. More people seemed to notice your presence, looking in the direction of the three of you. Some murmured, looking between you and the two Mandalorians. There was no malice behind their intentions; you knew this but standing there with all those eyes watching your every move was not where you wanted to be.

Eventually, the man gestured to something behind him, Mira nodded and took a hold of your arm leading you away.

“One of the elders will be with us to help you shortly,”  Mira led you in the direction of what you assumed was her home. You didn't even register you had moved until you were almost inside. You weren’t entirely sure if it was your wounds or the domineering exchange between the Mandalorian that left you light headed. Either way, you wanted nothing more than to lay down in a quiet place and hide away from the events of the past days.

You glanced back at the speeder, the Mandalorian was still in the same spot where he intercepted you, watching you both walk away. You turned back to Mira.

“Who was that man?” You asked much more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You couldn't lie and say he didn't intrigue you. His aura was overpowering but also enticed you in a way you couldn't explain.

“That was our clan leader, Din Djarin.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #star wars fan fiction #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #clan leader au #clan leader mando #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian imagine #dyn jarren #dyn djarin x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #my writing #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

ALL 40 BAYBEE!!!!! GIMME SUM ANSWERS

5) Share one of your strengths.

Being,,, prolific?? ?????? ??? ???????????

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

My own mind. No really I'm basically my own worst enemy because I'm too much of a perfectionist and hate myself and mess myself up.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stars are the many, many eyes left behind of the Old Gods.

Arya heard this before. She's heard that the stars are the last of the Weeping Lady's tears. They are the eternally bleeding wounds of the Great Shepard according to the Dothraki. They are the drops of poison given to Baelor the Beloved as he laid asleep. They are the immortal sparks of R'hallor's breath. Arya believes the stars are nothing. They exist in a chasm of darkness and death, and no-one is meant to understand why.

Evermore (T, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones, 1179 words)

I HAD A LOT OF FUN GOING THROUGH WESTOROS MYTHOLOGY AND TALES IN HISTORY TO MAKE THAT PART. AND THEN WRITING OUT ARYA'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"I liked this shirt, you know," Will complains faintly.

Behind him, one of the car-windows rattle. A badly burned hand emerges from the smoke, clawing helplessly.

"We will find you another," Hannibal tells him, disregarding the murderer's intense, gagging screams.

"That's not the point."

"You're holding on needlessly to the limited value of your material possessions, Will. That's not like you." Hannibal lightly clucks his tongue as if disapproving, approaching him and thumbing down Will's jaw. He's warm and wet, and glorious. He's evolving.

"Says the man who buys Patek Philippe wristwatches," Will retorts softly. "For his own pleasure."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth smirks.

"And what kind of pleasure exists within your mind's eye right now, Will?"

"Ripping out your jugular vein with my teeth," Will murmurs, stroking his lambskin-gloved thumb against Hannibal's neck.

"I would be honored."

The Crescendo Of Dying Screams (M, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), 908 words)

THIS IS JUST FUN!!! THEY WERE FUN TO WRITE FOR AGAIN AND I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR HANNIGRAM IN A WHILE!!

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Even if you think it sucks,,,, write it down anyway and then fix it later. The important part is to write and start writing.

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Thankfully,,, I don't think I've come across any yet.

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to see Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline & Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, Adventure Time, 1358 words) done in a comic at least because I NEED THESE TWO CANON COUPLES TO MEET AND BE SILLY. CANON WLW AND MLM.

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

NOT REALISTIC. I DO NOT FUNCTION LIKE THAT

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I start out from beginning to ending but sometimes I gotta skip around to keep it going if I get stuck.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

*shrugs*

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

It's probably a little moth trapped in a jar and beating itself senselessly against the glass, but it kind of enjoys it??

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Wrapped in a blanket, alone in my room with headphones and music blasting, with a large water bottle and a little bit of chocolate.

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends really! Sometimes I'll go through and correct once, and sometimes I will go through like 14 times in one day!

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I have! I will upload it again sometime but like,,,,, the person I had made it for in an AO3 fest basically fucked off and me removing it was me going "nah fuck this,,,, it ain't yours anymore!!!"

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I have done them! I think they're nice! I do not like long term collaboration projects but for a oneshot, yes!

28) Share your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@glove23 - I look up to this fic writer so much! They have been battling depression and anxiety, and the complexities of their ADHD, for such a long time and whenever they post something,,, I get so excited! I'm really proud of them! It's hard enough for me to write on a bad mental health day, and I know the struggle they go through, and it's INCREDIBLE to see what they can do! They have been writing since they were young and it really shows how much they love writing and how hard they work on getting the characterization and dialogue to be spot on! Obsessed with their work! (AO3)

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 - What a powerhouse! Incredible writing and fantastic handling of how she structures plot! Constantly in awe of the ideas she has and when they are well-executed (and they are all of the time)! If you are a fan of Will/Lyra from HDM, this is the person to go to for quality! I promise! (AO3)

other writers I really like are @spookywitchnerd24, @theschubita, @anxiouss-princess, @asajjvxntress, @kingburu, @rapha-writes

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

ngl I really wanna do the "they get back from horse riding and Aleksander refuses to leave Alina's side while she's getting healed" sequel to you are too well tangled in my soul by @glove23

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Meh. It depends on the thing I'm writing.

32) How do you feel about smut?

I write it all of the time and read it all of the time. I don't think it's a big deal at all. I respect that it's uncomfy for a lot of people

33) How do you feel about crack?

It's fun! And it can be done well! I saw more crack fic being done back in,,,, like the early 00s and now I don't see it as much,,,,, sad

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

You know what,,, I was just discussing the psychology of why noncon fic is so popular on AO3 (and I have written it before and to my surprise IT GETS THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF VIEWS) and,,, I think the key components to answering this question is understanding that 1) AO3 allows noncon fic to exist therefore it's a dumping ground and 2) rape culture is so embedded into US-centric society especially and 3) there's a lot of traumatized people on AO3 and likely creating noncon to process what happened to them and 4) it's a taboo subject and humanity has been drawn to and obsessed with what is taboo since forever,,,, and tbh the taboo is fascinating to me! It does draw me in! I have written for it and I've read it, and I think it's important to ask questions and examine why we do this!

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

HELL YEAH. ABSOLUTELY. I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!! I prefer more "oh my god they're dead--OH! now they're alive! yayyyyy!" over permanent character death

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3. AO3 is queen. I'm not gonna badmouth FFN and Wattpad in terms of people who go there because that's your business however FFN and Wattpad are largely restrictive and mainstream corporate owned areas of interest that don't give a single shit about their users.

38) Talk about a review that made your day.

Whenever my writer friends comment on my fic,,, I literally get emotional. Like those are my favorite comments to see :)

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

BE SAD FOR HALF A SECOND AND THEN FIGHT.

#ask #WELL THIS GOT LONG KLFKFFDDF

[untamedficrecs]

any fics where wwx gets injured and lwj gets really worried and protective or smth? sorry for being boring haha

You’re not boring anon!! Sorry for taking a while to get to this!! I’ve been taking a break from tumblr for the past couple of days, but here you go! (this is gonna be long!) 

company by withbroombefore

Rating: Teen & up | Canon Divergence | Status: Complete | Chapters: 10 | Word Count: 29827 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian

Author’s Summary: Lan Wangji is fourteen when the dying boy comes to stay at Cloud Recesses.

☆ personal comments: so like...wwx comes to the cloud recesses early because he is injured (i wont spoil how) but there are some soft moments in here, lwj wondering if wwx is going to survive and im a sucker for the lxc and lqr liking/caring for wwx also...so i figured i would throw this one in here! it’s really good!! def should read! 

lover please stay (i know you’re weary) by laylabinx

Rating: Teen & up | Slight Canon Divergence | Status: Complete | Chapters: 4 | Word Count: 15368 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian

Author’s Summary: Lan Zhan lost Wei Ying once and is determined to never let it happen again.

Which might be a problem considering the other man is actively bleeding to death on his back.

(Post Carp Tower)

☆ personal comments: i pretty good fic!! not super long, but its basically like the missing scenes between the carp tower stabbing and wwx waking up back at cloud recesses! 

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets)

Rating: Mature | Post-Canon | Status: Complete | Chapters: 9 | Word Count: 54585 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: Wei Wuxian opens the letter and skims through, feeling his frown deepen with every line. “Oh. A request from Yiling. This man Tong Shen writes, 'I can’t explain what’s happening — you wouldn’t believe me if I tried. The hills are moving and they are hungry. Please send aid, Hanguang-jun, this humble one begs you.' Well, my curiosity is certainly piqued."

A few months after the events of Guanyin Temple, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji take on a night hunt of an unusual sort: The Burial Mounds are spreading, quickly and with no apparent explanation.

 In Wei Wuxian, it brings old, long-buried things bubbling to the surface.

☆ personal comments: this is one of my favorite fics. I love it so much. It’s a case fic and it’s just so well written. lwj in this fic is very much worried about how the burial mounds are affecting wwx in this fic. this is just them trying to figure out what the hell is going on and trying to solve it with a mix of them coming to terms with their feelings w each other and getting together anyway...this fic...so good...just read...

hunters seeking solid ground by attila

Rating: Explicit | Post Canon | One-Shot |Status: Complete | Word Count: 23633 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary:  “Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian repeats. His heart clenches. He wants—but he’d really meant to have this nightmare stuff down before they met again, so he wouldn’t find himself relying on Lan Wangji’s nearness. He’s not supposed to go back yet. But he’s so tired, and his will crumbles. “Yeah,” he says. “All right. Take me back to Gusu with you.”

☆ personal comments: another fic that is my fave...just sleeping issues...wwx showing up to the cloud recesses sleep deprived and lwj being worried about him and yeah :( i really love this fic. 

do not take that which does not belong to you by selene210

Rating: Explicit | Canon Divergence | One-Shot | Status: Complete | Word Count: 7712 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: “You are not in a position to ask for my secrets”

“Is that a threat, Yiling Laozu” Bad Breath said, pushing him towards the entryway of the crumbing shack.

When Wei Wuxian laughed, it was a wild sound, free and unrestrained and at odds with the current situation. He was not afraid, for he knew what was coming. Who was coming.

The men’s second mistake was daring to take that which belonged to the Second Jade of Lan.

☆ personal comments: ahhhh this fic...very spicy....just beware of that...

before we get started, does anyone wanna get out? by iggysassou

Rating: Explict | Post-Canon | One-Shot | Status: Complete | Word Count: 13583   Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: “You’re hurting him.”

“And we’ll do much more if you don’t do as we say,” the man promised, pressing the dagger in just a little deeper to spur Wei Ying into obeying.

Lan Wangji hissed, closing his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to look back at his husband. The sting from the blade was bearable but combined with his injured arm twisted back, it was difficile to hide the pain in his eyes. Not that it would have worked anyway, Wei Ying knew every line of his face, knew all of his expressions, no matter how small.

Wei Ying’s eyes darkened as his hand settled on Chenqing. “Lower your dagger or you won’t leave this forest alive."

Or, 5 times Wei Wuxian protected his loved ones and one time Lan Wangji protected him.

☆ personal comments: gonna switch it up some and add some protective wwx but there is also protective lwj in this...also its just a good fic all around. 

the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by ravenclawloki

Rating: Teen & up | Canon Divergence | One-Shot | Status: Complete | Word Count: 11274 Pairing: Lan Wangji x Wei Wuxian 

Author’s Summary: “I understand many of you may not be taking this indoctrination to heart.” Wen Chao pompous voice rang through, finally breaking the silence. If Wei Ying was next to him, he would roll his eyes so dramatically that Lan Wangji would be able to hear it - the thought comforts him. “Which pains me; submitting to the rules will makes this a much more pleasant experience. This is supposed to be educational for all of us. So, in case any of you aren’t taking this seriously still…” He eyes traveled to his side where two guards holding something lifeless by either arm, walking towards Wen Chao and the teens following his gaze.

Nie Huaisang stiffened next to him.

Jiang Wanyin screamed his brother’s name.

Jin Zixuan’s inhaled sharply.

But all Lan Wangji saw was Wei Ying.

☆ personal comments: all the bros thinkin wwx is dead?? the pain oh no!!! no but this is a pretty good fic :-)

#answered #fic recs #mdzs #mdzs fic rec #wangxian fic rec #ahhh im blanking on fics ;; im really sorry i wanted this to be longer ;; if i can think of anymore ill add them later ;;

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: The Promise

(A/N: Way way WAAAAY Pre-Eragon. It’s rough and a majority of it was lurking in my drive folder for weeks. I wanted MIC!Brom and MIC!Arya interacting alone (aka without Izzy hovering and smothering Arya’s personality) together for the first time. The ending is shit and makes no sense, but I literally just wrote it and I’m having a hard time switching off the Japanese sentence structures (Japanese Sub-Obj-Verb vs English SVO) and whatnot and it’s just…a to-be-cleaned-later mess. But y’all gettin’ it anyway!!

Oh, also. I wanted Post-Fall Brom to be an angry jackass. Donno if that came across enough.)

{Secondary A/N: Ever go back read your stuff and thing ‘damn that feels clunky?’ Posting all these to the new side blog has me really thinking that way too often. As I’m literally doing this as a way to avoid an end of semester presentation project, I don’t have time to rewrite at the moment, but maybe one day....} 

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

“You’re leaving already?”

Brom’s head snapped back, eyes narrowed as he searched the trees for the source of the voice. So the person– or thing, as you could never be sure in the heart of Du Weldonvarden– that had been following him for the past week was finally ready to reveal itself.

Keen as he was, the Rider couldn’t pick out his second shadow from the mottled greens and browns above. They seemed content for him to answer before speaking again.

No way around it then. Brom shifted his pack on his shoulders, and dropped a hand to the pommel of his borrowed sword. His pistol and rifle were dismantled in their cases tied to his backpack, a precaution Oromis and Glaedr had insisted on ever since their former student nearly attacked Rhunön more than a decade ago. “I have things to do.”

“Well, yeah.” There was the scuff of dried outer bark crackling as it was compressed. Brom whirled to the sound, blade halfway out of its sheath before he stayed his hand, now more annoyed than ever. “But it’s not like you’re finished here, are you?”

Crouched upside down with her bare feet planted on the bottom of a pine branch and fingertips digging into the bark, was an elf. She cocked her head at him, dark hair waving as she observed his nearly threatening stance and foot of naked steel that was still exposed at his side.

And she gave him a sly smirk.

“Are you going to draw on me, ebrithil shur’tugal?”

Brom felt his blood pressure jolt up several levels. “What do you want? Either say your piece or go away. I don’t have time for this.” He slammed his sword back into the sheath, locking the hilt in place.

“Fine, fine.” The elf let go of the branch and twisted in the air, landing deftly on her feet. “I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t with everyone else around.”

He wanted to say that the time for talk was over. That he was done playing politics in this damned forest and he was going to back to fix the problems the elves had abandoned when they retreated there.

But his voice died in his throat as the elf came closer. No, not a full grown elf. An elfling, a child. He could see the faint silver of her skin now that she was not haloed by the dappled sunlight dripping down the tree.  

She bowed slightly, hand twisted over her heart in the elvish greeting before straightening and hesitantly held out her hand, almost appearing unfamiliar with the second gesture. “Stars watch over you. I’m–”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are, girl.” Brom ignored the offered hand and stepped around the elfling. Now that she was on the ground, she didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

There was a sudden snap in the air. Brom felt the hair on the back of his neck rise but refused to turn as the girl jogged to his side, obviously piqued. So she was still young enough to be bleeding uncontrolled magic into the world. “I was going to say, I’m Arya and my mother is not me and does not get to introduce me.” There was venom in her tone, something that the Rider had honestly not expected. What he had seen of Arya before was only a glimpse, usually several strides behind the Queen and watching the goings on quietly with wide, dark eyes. “And I want to talk to you.”

“Go home.”

“No. I’m not letting you leave without talking to me.”

“We’ve talked. A conversation with several back and forth utterances has taken place. You can go.”

“Master Glaedr was right about you. Look, just take me with you.”

Brom stopped. Now that was something he had not expected. The request, that is, not the comment about Glaedr. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“You heard me.” Arya crossed her arms, firmed her stance and glared at him with brilliant fire in her dark green eyes. “Take me with you.”

For a moment, Brom saw Evandar again. The elvish king’s rage at Galbatorix’s mindless slaughter of the dragons and innocents was something that was not easily forgotten.

For the briefest flicker of time, Brom saw that rage again, barely contained within the small, half grown elfling planted defiantly before him. It was simmering just beneath the surface, threaded through with the innate defiance of youth and stubbornness that all but screamed Islanzadi’s name.

There was conviction there as well. That, it seemed, was Arya’s claim alone.

He turned to face her fully. “You want to go out there and fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of hearing about people dying.” Despite having to tilt her head back to keep steady eye contact with the Rider, Arya stepped forward into Brom’s personal space. “It’s time someone in this forest did something to fix the problems we brought about instead of moaning about the how Golden Age is gone while people out there die! So make no mistake, ebrithil shur’tugal. I’m going to help you stop this war so that no one else has to die for it.

“I’m going to help kill the Forsworn and Galbatorix, and help to end this war.”

Unlike any other who could have heard them, Brom did not laugh at the young elf’s words. He searched her face, letting the ring of the bond in her last statement, forged in her switch the Ancient Language, cool in the air. In all that time Arya did not flinch. She did not back down nor show any flicker of doubt on her face or in her eyes.

The elfing still did not move when Brom nodded slowly and rubbed at the stubble that patched his face. “Alright then. Seeing as how you just royally screwed yourself at…what, eight years old?”

Another snap of static flicked the air, this time pinging Brom on the neck as Arya’s eyes flashed. “I’m twelve.”

“Right, right. Royally screwed yourself and your entire life by magically forcing yourself to join a war and probably get yourself killed, then fine.” Brom put his finger up to halt the growing excitement he could see rising in the little elf. “But. Not now. Give it a few years. Ten, maybe twenty or so…and I’ll see if you’re ready to start working on your promise.”

The near feral grin that split Arya’s face startled him. This was something he had not seen before in Islanzadi nor Evandar. The wild, vibrant spirit waiting to be unleashed on the world was all Arya’s own. He shook hands with the elfling to seal their agreement.

“Tell the Forsworn I’m coming for them, yeah?”

Brom grinned despite himself. He knew that the girl had likely signed her own death warrant this day. But something about that half crazed smile she wore told him otherwise.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #brom #pre-eragon modern inheritance #arya #arya drottningu #scrawny little wild elf child #brom always gets stuck with kids how does this happen WHY does it happen #and thus started a beautiful friendship of PURE CHAOS

[faustrinus]

Warm

* Drarry (TW: mentions of blood and injuries). This is my second time posting this haha I am sorry. “Bloody hell, Potter.”

Harry lifted his head, staring at the blood pooling from his torso, “Yeah, it’s really bloody,” he agreed, “in case you couldn't tell.”

“This is no time for jokes, you git!” Draco rushed over, fumbling for his wand. “What did you do?”

Draco staunched the bleeding with a flick of his wrist and sighed, trying to assess the damage. How did I end up here? He asked himself for the hundredth time. Finding your Auror partner bleeding out on your driveway should be a strange sight, but it was one that Draco was all too familiar with.

“Where is the injury?” he asked, siphoning the blood off the ground with his wand.

“'m fine,” Harry slurred, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

“Bullshit, where is it?”

Harry huffed. “Torso. Right side.”

The injury was starting to bleed again, so Draco didn't waste any more time. The slash across his ribs had torn a hole in Harry’s robes, so Draco used his hands to widen the hole to get a better look at the area. By now, the blood was pooling again- and the way Harry was squirming like a fish out of water was making it worse.

“Stop moving!” Draco snapped, using his hands to press on Harry’s ribs.

“It hurts.”

“I know, but it will hurt a lot more if you keep moving. Just listen to me for once in your bloody life.”

“Fine, just-” Harry gestured with a limp hand. “try and make it quick.”

Are you really in the position to be bossing me around? Draco shook his head, trying to remain calm. Healing was easier when you were calm, and Draco needed a steady grip on his wand for this to work.. He couldn't let Harry die, not like this.

Draco pointed his wand at the wound, forcing his arm to stop shaking as he began muttering an incantation that made Harry wonder if Malfoy was singing to him at that moment by the tone every word was pronounced, the wand tracing the long injury slowly, it seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, coming from some knowledge buried deep down in his memory. The flow of blood got slower and there was less, provoking a breath of relief from Draco, the spell was repeated one more time before the wound started to knit itself, making Harry flinch in discomfort for the suddenly burning sensation in the area. At least he's alive. “Now that you're not dying, could you tell me what on Merlin's beard happened here?”

“Thieves. They were trying to get into your house.”

“Potter. While I appreciate the concern,” and Draco coughed to hide the fact his heartbeat was louder than he expected it to be, “I am, in fact, fully able to defend myself.”

“Even without magic? The Ministry wouldn't like knowing you performed magic in front of muggles.”

“I would have managed.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“That doesn't matter. Why were you outside of my house?”

Harry tried to shrug, wincing from the movement and biting back a whimper, “I was just checking on you.”

“Checking on me? Why?”

“I haven't seen you at work in a few days. I wanted to find out if something happened to my partner.”

My partner. Draco was thankful that the streetlights were dim enough that this blush was hidden. "Luckily, it seems like no one saw anything," Draco changed the subject, "so if you could get up-" Draco cut himself off as he got a better look at Harry's face. "Is that a black eye?"

“Ehm.. yes?” Harry prodded at his eye, “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Well, I dunno, you're the one who can see me,” Harry grumbled, he made no move to get up.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. Did Harry have any survival instincts? He'd survived dozens of harrowing situations- both during and after Hogwarts- and yet here he was, bleeding and bruised on Draco's driveway. If Harry always acted like this when his life was at stake... it was a wonder that he hadn't been killed yet.

“Come on, let's get you inside," Draco sighed, "before someone sees.”

“You didn't mind that earlier. When I was drowning on my own blood.”

“That's because I wasn't interested in your blood staining my best rug, Potter," Draco said dryly, "besides, your life is a little more important than the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Thanks for that, I think. Can't wait to see your fancy rug.”

Draco huffed and slipped an arm under Harry's back to help him sit, cringing inwardly at the blood that soaked through his robes. He just needed to get Harry inside and make sure he wasn't about to die- and then he could worry about the states of his clothes. “I think I'm okay,” Harry grunted, relying heavily on Draco to stand.

“Careful,” Draco said sharply, “the wound is only knitted. It'll still hurt. “

”'m fine,” Harry insisted, but he let Draco wrap his arm around his waist anyways, "What about my glasses?”

“Draco cast his eyes to the ground, but he couldn't see anything in the darkness. “I'll find them later." he said.

Harry nodded and shuffled forward, and he would have fallen over if it wasn't for Draco supporting nearly his entire weight.

“You alright?” Draco asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Harry grimaced, "doesn't hurt so bad."

Draco nodded, pretending not to notice the way Harry was gritting his teeth. He resolved to use a pain relief spell as soon as they were inside.

They both started walking towards the black door that opened itself with a flick of Draco's wand. Harry felt a wave of warmth envelop him as they passed the threshold, like a welcoming hug for his shivering body. From the outside, Draco's house looked like it'd be similar to what time ago was the Malfoy manor, but on the inside, it was the total opposite. Rugs covered the dark wood floor under each piece of furniture, and despite the monochromatic (green, of course) colour scheme, it was still very home-like.

“Your house is much nicer on the inside," Harry said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“I have a lot of wards to keep things warm,” Draco explained, slowly guiding Harry to the sofa, "mostly for when winter comes around since I'm generally a pretty cold person.”

Harry huffed a laugh, “cold, as in personality or…”

“Right, that too, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes.

The candelabrum hanging above the living room was what reminded Harry the most of the Malfoy manor, with its expensive design and sparking metal accents. The sofa that Draco lead him was clearly expensive, too- and there was a certainly reason for its price. Harry sighed with relief when his body hit the soft cushions. It even smelled good- he sighed deeply as mil citrus scent- Draco's scent- surrounded him.

“I like your sofa,” Harry murmured.

Draco arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile, "I noticed," he said, rolling up his sleeves, and kneeling on the ground next to the sofa, "You look like a mess."

Harry tried to laugh, but he felt dizzy instead- like the world had stopped for a moment before getting back on route. His eyelids dropped, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the worried expression across Draco's face. “Potter, stay here.” And then everything went dark.

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

When Harry woke up he felt weak, the type of weakness where you move a little and your body sends a big alarm reminding you you're going to faint if you try to move a lot. It was annoying to feel so useless when there was probably someone out there needing his Auror services.

Well, the good thing was that he did faint once, so it wasn't that probable for him to do it again. And seeing how the wound was already recovering thanks to what seemed like Draco healing abilities, Harry's spirits lifted up, it looked so much better and it also didn't hurt half as much. It was a really well-done work.

But of course, his muscles were still aching like he had run some type of marathon.

“You're awake.”

His eyes tried to focus, but it was hard when his classes were nowhere to be able to reach them, “Did you get my glasses?”

“Good morning to you too, Potter. And yes, yes I did,”

“Morning...?” Harry mumbled, looking around for a window to check if it was truly a new day, “How much time did I sleep?”

“Like fourteen hours? It was a lot. I don't know how you can sleep so much.”

Harry yawned and looked at Draco, who was sitting on the ground next to him, a blanket covering his legs- it wasn't really clear, but Harry could see the pillow laying on the floor and the rug wrinkled under it. Connecting all the dots was easy.

“You slept on the floor?”

“Yes, I stayed to make sure you didn't die in your sleep.”

“Sweet,” He answered rolling his eyes, “Thanks. You are very good at healing.”

Draco searched for Harry's glasses and handed them over to him, they were shining clean and looked more new than ever, “I fixed and cleaned them. They probably broke when one of the … assholes yesterday hit you.”

“You're acting very nice to me,” He started putting on his glasses, “Is it because I almost died?”

Draco ignored the comment and cracked his knuckles softly, his gaze noticing how messy Harry's hair got. It was cute seeing it sticking out in different positions and falling in a funny way on the man's face, “You were saying I'm good at healing?”

“Oh, yes. You are, the wound almost doesn't hurt anymore.”

“I'm glad. I had a lot of practice, I guess I became good without noticing.” Harry knew exactly what he was talking about- the whole sectumsempra thing. He knew Draco could not have healed himself that time because of how badly injured he was at the time, but he assumed he had to learn how to treat his own wounds after it happened.

“I'm sorry about that.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sorry about what?”

“The whole... “ Harry coughed, “curse thing.”

“Oh.”

“You weren't talking about that?”

“Not necessarily. But I guess it came to my mind now that you say it.”

Harry tried to make himself more comfortable to carry on the conversation, shifting around the couch, “Did it… leave scars?”

“Why are you asking?”

 “Knowing if I left some mark on you thanks to how irresponsible my actions were is something I deserve to know. Right?”

“You want to make sure you have reasons to feel guilty?”

“Yes.”

“Potter…” Draco tried to convince him subtly to change the subject, but Harry was a stubborn bastard and he was about to start complaining again if Draco didn't tell him, “Yes, it did. Only one though, It wasn't healed fast enough I'm guessing..”

“I'm really sorry...Draco,” Harry tried to sit correctly, groaning when he felt a pull to the side due to the wound, “Can I see it?”

“What makes you so interested? I don't get it.”

“I don't really know. I guess…. to make sure you're okay?”

Draco couldn't help but laugh a little, “It was years ago. Why wouldn't I be okay?”

But Harry was still staring at him to what looked like his attempt of puppy eyes- how old was he again? ten?

“Please.”

“Just because you almost died doesn't mean now you get everything on a silver plate.”

“We haven't seen each other in a long time. As Aurors we need to have a bond.”

He really wasn't giving up.

“Fine.”

Draco mumbled something and grabbed his wand that was laying next to him and muttered some spell. It took a few seconds for Harry to see it, there was a long scar going up from his neck to what it seemed down his chest. It wasn't really striking, but it was noticeable at a close distance. That's why Draco used a glamour charm- they were always working side to side, Harry would have already noticed and asked about it.

“It reached your neck? Merlin, it had to hurt a lot.” Draco denied softly and sighed, maintaining the charm drained his energy sometimes, “It's okay. Stop worrying about stupid things.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “I almost killed you. It's not stupid.”

“I think we can both agree it's too early to talk about this, Harry.”

Harry grunted but nodded anyways, letting himself relax a little. You almost die a few times and you get all sappy he thought, brushing the thoughts away. They stayed in silence a few seconds, and Harry could sense how his heart was beating a little bit faster than usual- how was he still paranoid after what happened yesterday? It was Draco's house, both of them were there, it was safe. Yet he still could hear his heartbeat bouncing around like it was a goddamn party in his chest.

“You know… Now it's my second bad memory with a knife, not really fond of them.”

“Well, I'm glad. I would be worried if you were fond of them.”

Harry giggled softly, making Draco smile a little when he saw he had enough strength to do it. “Well, what was the first memory?”

Draco decided to get up, stretching his legs while Harry was getting ready to say whatever he was thinking about. His eyes were squinted as he searched for the memory probably already forgotten, but when the light hit his eyes Draco saw it- he remembered.

And Harry swallowed, because he actually did not want to remember it. He was trying to keep an interesting conversation, but he had exposed himself without noticing.

“I remember that when I was living with my… The Dursleys, a lot of things happened, to be honest,” Harry started, trying to ignore Draco's stare, “clearly, they weren't the nicest people on earth. I remember this one time where I was cooking and my Aunt Petunia told me she would chop off my fingers if I messed up.”

“What?”

“It's not a big deal. But for some reason it stayed in my mind after all these years.”

Draco felt himself getting angry, “How old were you?”

“I don't remember. Seven? maybe eight.”

“Merlin's beard,” Draco eyes got wide, “You were a child, Harry, of course it stuck with you. And who in their right mind makes a seven-year-old cook?”

“I thought every kid had to do it. And I assumed Dudley didn't because well… he was their son.”

“And what were you? their servant?”

Harry shrugged, “I don't know. Something amongst those lines.”

Draco huffed, playing with the rings that adorned his fingers, “It sounds horrible.”

“But here I am,” Harry tried to play it off, but it was noticeable the subject was affecting him somehow, “all okay.”

Draco nodded and they stayed in an uncomfortable silence until he yawned, gaining Harry's attention- if he slept like fourteen hours, how many did Draco?

“...Did you sleep the same amount as me?”

“I can't hibernate like you, Potter.”

“So… you didn't sleep at all?”

“I slept a reasonable amount.”

Harry patted the empty space next to him, “How much is a reasonable amount?”

Draco hesitated a bit before slowly sitting next to the man- he would notice he was looking a bit tired. Well, it wasn't easy looking extremely bright when you spent most of your night making sure The Chosen One didn't die on your couch.

“...two hours.”

“What? Why? two hours is nothing. How are you even alive?”

“I have survived with less, thank you very much,” and with that the conversation was done, of that he thought until Harry tugged on his sleeve a little bit stronger that Draco could have expected, making him fall against Harry's body, he blushed instantly, pushing, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you get some sleep.”

“And you are planning to hold me?”

Harry yawned, “Yeah, pretty much,” he tugged again, making sure Draco stayed laying on top of him comfortably, “C'mon. Sleep.”

“I'm not your dog, Harry.”

“Then stop barking and get some sleep with me.”

Draco tried to push again, but Harry was holding him strongly. If he wanted to, he could have used a spell to get free of his grab- but it was rather comfortable to lay there. For a recently injured person, it was surprising Harry wasn't complaining about how he was closely brushing his wound, “What about the wound?”

“It's okay. It doesn't hurt.”

 Draco accommodated himself, “If one Auror knows we…”

“Cuddled until we fell asleep?” Draco nuzzled his face into Harry's neck “Yes, that. If one Auror knows that, I'm going to hex you.”

“Sounds like a deal. Good night.”

“How are you still sleepy?”

Harry was already closing his eyes, “I save my tiredness in a little box in my brain and then I set it free.”

“Dumbass.”

“Sleep.”

At the end, Draco stopped trying to ignore the idea. “Fuck it,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on Harry's chest, hearing his heartbeat.

“Draco..?”

“Oh, wow. Now you're the one interrupting my sleep.”

“It's not that.”

“Then what?”

“You lied to me about something.”

“...What?”

“You're actually warm.”

“I don't understand.”

“You're warm,” Harry repeated, sighing, “I like it.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but the faint smile drawn on his lips couldn't lie.

Maybe being warm wasn't that bad when Harry Potter was cuddling you.

#drarry #dracomalfoy #harrypotter #HarryxDraco #drarryoneshot #drarryfanfiction #drarryfanfic #dracoxharry #harryjamespotter #gay #LGBTQ PRIDE

[lvllns]

and i’m feeling colder than i feel is good

the wayhaven chronicles. ~2.5k words. little bit of felix and kincaid, but it’s not the focus. mild book 3 demo spoilers, very brief and nothing plot relevant. this idea has been rattling around in my head since the first chapter of the demo and i finally sat down to write it. detective becomes a vampire au? i guess?

Standing in a shitty rest stop bathroom, Kincaid watches his split knuckles mend and thinks that he should have seen this coming.

—

Three months ago, one month after Murphy’s attack.

Kincaid slumps back against his chair. Scrubs his hands over his face and groans as he leans forward to press his face to his desk. Between the Agency and the station, reports and paperwork have piled up. Stacks that threaten to tumble to the ground at even the slightest touch. He’s trying, really he is, to catch up even the tiniest little bit but it feels like a fruitless endeavor.

Especially when Tina sheepishly slaps another folder down, playfully thwapping it on the back of his skull. “Got more for you.”

“No thanks,” he mumbles with a shake of his head. “I’m not acceptin’ any more paperwork currently.”

Tina laughs. Pats his shoulder before giving it a squeeze. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think the Captain would appreciate that.”

With a frustrated huff, Kincaid sits up, eyes narrowing at the mess all over his workspace. “Why the fuck are there so many reports? The fuck is happening in this sleepy town?” He picks one up. Squints and scoffs as he drops it back down. “Another case of mysteriously dying flowers from someone with a dog.”

“You need a break.”

“I need to retire.”

“You have a few years yet,” Tina says with another reassuring pat to his back. “Ah, you have company.” She winks at him and heads for the door. “You’ll help him relax, right?”

Kincaid looks up from his computer to see Felix walk in, coffee cup and bag from Haley’s in hand.

He grins, bright eyes flashing with mischief, as he rests a hand against his chest in an attempt to look affronted. “In his office Tina?”

“Knew I liked you for a reason!” She taps the middle of his forehead before vanishing into the hallway, shutting the door with a muted click behind her.

Felix settles himself in the chair opposite Kincaid and cocks his head. “You look exhausted.”

“I sleep like shit, you know this.”

He hums. “I do, which is why I brought you these!”

Before Kincaid can react, there’s a steaming cup of coffee in his face, the bag rustling as it settles next to a stack of reports. He plucks the drink from Felix’s hand, letting his touch linger as long as he can before pulling away. The vampire shifts in his seat, grin fading to an honest smile, soft but no less bright. Kincaid takes a deep breath, a rumbling groan escaping him as the smell of coffee overwhelms his senses.

When he takes a sip though, it tastes...off.

His face screws up, nose wrinkling. It’s not bad, something is just a little to the right of normal. It’s like he can feel individual grains of sugar on his tongue. The coffee is more bitter, coating his tongue and throat so heavily it’s almost difficult to swallow.

“What’s wrong?” Felix leans forward, eyebrows knit together.

Kincaid holds the cup in front of him. He shrugs. Takes another sip and it’s better this time, going down smoother. “Nothin’, guess I’m just used to the shitty instant coffee here.” He smiles. “Thank you, Felix. I needed this.”

The shorter man hums. “You’re welcome. I grabbed you a couple of those scones you like too.” Kincaid could kiss him, and he almost does but Felix keeps talking. “I...may have dumped a little too much sugar into your coffee because I know you use a lot but I wasn’t sure how exactly much so.”

Kincaid bursts out laughing.

Writes off the weird texture in his mouth as Felix’s over eager hand.

—

Two months ago, two months after Murphy’s attack.

“Do you smell that?” Kincaid whips his head around, nostrils flaring.

The werewolves are retreating, scrambling away with their teeth bared and hackles raised. Something has them bolting and he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth but he catches a scent on the wind.

Mason looks at him. “Smell what?” His face screws up. “Ugh! The fuck?!”

They both throw their arms over their faces. Kincaid’s breathing goes ragged as he tries to take in oxygen without letting the smell overwhelm him. It’s musky, thick. Reminds him of old fur coats and wet dog. There’s a small part of him that is glad it doesn’t reek of death, but the musty scent isn’t that much better.

Whatever this smell is, it’s hitting him hard. He feels a little dizzy, and a little like he’s going to be sick. When he looks back at Mason, he finds himself being watched already. There’s a knot between Mason’s brows, silver eyes calculating, but he says nothing. Just keeps his own nose pinched shut as he mumbles about the benefits of not having to breathe.

He’s leaning against a tree when the other three make it into the clearing. Felix looks relieved he’s alive, heading straight for him. Kincaid is so busy trying not to pass out as they leave the clearing that he hardly pays attention to what anyone is saying.

Well, until Nate mentions the name of the plant.

“The crown imperial plant?” Kincaid wipes at his face. “That explains the smell,” he mumbles.

Mason’s eyes snap to him again and there’s something there. He makes a smart comment about having two Nates but says nothing else.

“It’s strong,” Nate says apologetically. “Even for humans.”

“It fuckin’ reeks of musty fur,” Kincaid grumbles, arms crossing over his chest.

Now Adam looks at him. Searching and seeking. He feels like he’s being pulled apart and displayed for the team leader to examine at will. Adam suggests they head back to the warehouse, though it takes longer than usual for him to pull his gaze away from Kincaid.

He writes this off as the two of them being annoyed at having another Nate in their midst.

—

One month ago, three months after Murphy’s attack.

Insomnia is an old friend at this point.

Kincaid rarely sleeps longer than three hours at a time, sometimes four if he’s lucky, and that’s on the nights he can even get to sleep. Night after night of shitty sleep, catching an hour here and there, isn’t unusual.

So he thinks nothing of it when he’s running on two hours of sleep for the sixth day in a row. A full coffee cup sits on his desk next to him, though he hasn’t touched it after he took the first sip. It’s too bitter. He’s been using less and less sugar, less creamer, less everything lately because it’s become too cloying. Trying to swallow a mouthful of sweetened coffee is like trying to eat gravel. It sticks in his throat. He didn’t realize he was being obvious about his change in taste until Felix made a comment the other day about not dumping a whole shaker of sugar into his drink.

Easy enough to write off as getting older, the sugar no longer agreeing with his palate like it did when he was in college.

He smells Felix before he sees him. A burst of bright citrus and something else that he can’t place. Kincaid looks up the moment Felix walks through the door to his office.

The vampire hits the brakes. Blinks and smiles. “I was going to sneak up on you.”

Kincaid chuckles. “Good luck, I smelled you coming.”

“What?” Felix appears in front of him, a warm hand on his chin tilting his head back. “You smelled me coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice going low and soft as it always does around Felix. “You smell like oranges and lemons.”

“Huh.” The hand falls away from his face. Felix lifts his shirt to his nose and takes a deep inhale.

“Darlin’, what are you doing?” Kincaid chuckles as he speaks, hands moving to rest on the other man’s thighs.

“You said I smelled!”

“Good! You smell good!”

Felix laughs. Leans forward to bury his nose in Kincaid’s hair on the top of his head. “New laundry detergent I think. Maybe. I don’t know, I borrowed some of whatever Nate uses.”

Simple then, to explain that away as a change in routine.

—

Two weeks ago, nearly four months after Murphy’s attack.

That...hasn’t happened before.

Kincaid blinks. Looks down at his hands. Looks up at the training dummy.

Or, what’s left of it.

He’s knocked the head clean off. It went sailing across the room, knocking against the wall. When he swung again, a chunk of the shoulder went flying.

He flexes his hands. Curls them into fists tight enough his knuckles bleed ivory. They haven’t changed. They’re still covered in freckles, a little more tan from all his time outside in the summer sun. Nothing that would explain why he’s just busted up a training dummy that he’s seen Adam hit with no problem.

Curiosity gets the better of him.

With a shake of his head, he squares himself up.

Takes a centering breath.

And swings.

Another head goes flying off the next dummy. He kicks, hard. Knocks the next one right off the metal post holding it upright. He stops then, not wanting to destroy everything in the room. This...doesn’t seem good. His mind starts racing but before he can connect any dots, he hears Adam approaching the room.

Kincaid turns. Faces the other man as he walks in and halts immediately, eyes surveying the damage. Three busted up training dummies and one man who probably looks incredibly confused.

“Did you…?” Adam trails off as he speaks, eyes narrowing.

“Uh, yeah.” Kincaid rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry?”

Adam waves his apology away. “Do not worry about it. I was in here early this morning, I must have weakened them.”

He can feel the sharp, knowing stare of the other man on him but Kincaid can’t bring himself to look his way. Instead, he takes a deep breath and nods.

Easy enough to write that off as well.

—

Present day, a little over four months after Murphy’s attack.

His knuckles just healed.

They were broken and busted, bleeding profusely, and he just watched them knit back together.

“Oh no,” he whispers. Looking up, he catches his reflection in the dirty mirror, wide-eyed and horrified. “Oh no, no way.”

Everything crashes down on him then. He thinks about the mission, the case. How he was quicker than he expected. When one of the Trappers rushed him, he slipped out of the way without a thought, his reflexes sharper than they’ve ever been. He kicked the door open to their busted up hideout, putting a hole in the wall and tearing the door off some of the hinges.

Old building, weak enough for his human strength to help it crumble.

Kincaid takes a ragged breath and jolts when he doesn’t remember the last time he did that voluntarily. The smells in the hideout had been overwhelming. Rot and dust, mold and the coppery tang of blood. He had covered his nose, pinched it shut, and as he thinks about it now, he realizes that he never once opened his mouth to take a breath.

Someone pounds on the bathroom door. “You good cowboy?”

Mason.

His shoulders drop and he presses his forehead against the mirror. “I...I don’t know.”

Silence.

No, not silence. He can hear him walking away. He can hear his heartbeat fade, and another one get stronger as someone new approaches. Kincaid realizes he can hear all of their hearts beating over the rushing in his ears.

And then, ripping him from his spiral, “Kincaid?” The door creaks open as Felix pokes his head in, amber eyes wide with worry. “What’s…” His gaze drops to what should be a mess of torn up flesh. “Um.” Felix goes tense, every muscle in his body tightening up. “Maybe I should get Adam?”

Kincaid can’t pull his focus away from his healed hands as he says, “That’s probably a good idea.”

—

They’re all piled in a tiny hospital room at the facility, Kincaid laying back on the bed with his eyes shut and an arm thrown over his face.

“I’m a right fuckin’ idiot,” he grits out.

“You are not.” Felix shoves his arm, not the one they pulled a ridiculous amount of blood from at least. “I don’t think anyone would expect, well, this.”

“He’s right Cade,” Nate says, voice calm and low. He’s speaking like he’s trying to steady a spooked horse, and really he’s not that far off. “This is certainly nothing any of us expected.”

Kincaid drops his arm to the bed. Stares at the ceiling for a minute before he says, “There were a lot of signs.”

“What?” Adam steps closer, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Food stopped tasting good.” Kincaid sighs as he sits up. “Couldn’t even dump half a cup of sugar into my coffee anymore. The sleep thing, I haven’t slept longer than three hours a night in weeks now.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, feet settling on the floor. “My senses are sharper. I destroyed some of those training dummies.”

“Those are easy enough to write off.” Felix hops up to sit next to him. Leans his head against Kincaid’s shoulder and laces their fingers together.

Nate hums. “They came on gradually?”

“Yeah, little at a time.” Kincaid shifts. Squeezes Felix’s hand. “Not surprising, given how the body makes blood. What I am surprised about, is how Mu—his blood apparently squeezed mine out.”

“We don’t know that you’ve been turned—”

Mason cuts Adam off with, “I think we fucking do.”

Adam growls. “It is possible—”

“What? What’s possible Adam?” Kincaid snaps. “That I’m only half vampire? Maybe I just haven’t fully turned yet, it’s only been four months after all. Maybe some of my own blood is still rattlin’ through my veins yet.”

Kincaid watches him deflate, shoulders slumping. Adam presses a hand to his forehead and sighs, but remains quiet.

“You haven’t taken a breath in twenty minutes,” Mason helpfully supplies.

“Thank you so much, Mason,” Kincaid growls out as he presses the meat of his palms to his eyes. “Where do we go from here?”

“There are...meetings you’ll need to sit through.” Nate grimaces. “Forms to fill out, that kind of thing.”

“Depending on where your abilities settle,” Adam’s voice is rough as he speaks, “you’ll be given training in how to handle the changes you’ve undergone. I would not be surprised if you ended up with hypersenses similar to Mason, or strength similar to mine.”

“What does that mean for us working together?” There’s a flare of anxiety that bubbles in Kincaid’s chest. He doesn’t want to lose this, he realizes. A sour smell floods his nostrils and he recoils. “Fuckin’ hell, is that me?”

Mason chuckles. “That’s fear, cowboy.”

Nate whacks him on the back of the shoulder, giving him a disapproving stare for a moment. He turns to Kincaid and shrugs. “I imagine we’ll continue to work together. There’s no reason to split us up, not when we function so well as a group.”

“Whatever happens,” Felix turns to Kincaid, “we’ll deal with it. You’ve got us to help you.”

Kincaid leans down. Presses a kiss to Felix’s temple and whispers, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

#the wayhaven chronicles #long post #caiti.txt #c: kincaid anderson #writing tag #i did research for this lmao #it takes your body roughly 4 months to replace every red blood cell it has #and we're just gonna go with Supernatural Stuff to explain why vampire blood would completely replace your own blood #but when i say i have been thinking about this for months i mean it #that bit in the demo where the detective smells the plant just latched onto a part of my brain and i'm like 'yeah okay' #so now here we are! #local southern man calls his boyfriend darlin more at 11 #is this edited? sure kind of #anyway i slapped this down in a fucking HAZE that lasted 2 hours while like that by doja cat played on repeat #make of that what you will #if you read all that i love you

[wonderful-writer]

13 - Wartime

Summary: The camp prepares to make a trip to the ocean, but the grounder army puts a stop in their plans, forcing them back to camp to fight a war.

Word Count: 2.94k

Based Off: 01x13, “We Are Grounders, Part Two”

Everyone outside of the dropship prepared to leave while Clarke cauterized Raven’s wound and Finn held her hand. 

“That should stop the external bleeding.” She put the knife in a basin and Finn started talking.

“I don’t understand, how did Murphy get a gun?” He asked.

“Long story,” Bellamy said. 

“We got lucky,” Raven moaned. “If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we’d all be dead.”

“Wait, there’s rocket fuel down there?” Clarke asked the brunette. “Enough to build a bomb?”

“Enough to build 100 bombs.” Raven replied. “If we had any gunpowder left.” 

“Let’s get back to the reapers.” Bellamy lifted Lincoln’s book to show a sketch of one. “Maybe they’ll help us.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” You asked. 

“Not this enemy.” Clarke said. “We saw them. Trust me, it’s not an option.”

“There’s no time for this.” Finn chimed in. “Can she walk or not?”

“No.” Clarke responded. “We have to carry her.”

“The hell you will.” Raven tried to sit up. “I’m good to go.” Her attempts at sitting up were feeble, and she put herself in more pain trying to do so.

“Hey,” Clarke got her attention. “Listen to me. That bullet is still inside you. If, by some miracle, there’s no internal bleeding, it might hold until we get somewhere safe. But you are not walking there. Is that clear?”

Raven nodded and laid back down on the table while Finn went to get the stretcher to put her on. 

“Can’t run away fast enough, huh? That’s brave, real brave.” Bellamy commented in a snide tone.

Finn turned at his comment and walked back over to the man. “Dying in a fight you can’t win isn’t brave, Bellamy. It’s stupid.”

“Spoken like every coward who’s ever run from a fight.” Bellamy walked closer to Finn as he spoke, getting dangerously close. The tension in the room was high due to their verbal fight, and you could feel that this was going to escalate quickly.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You spoke up from beside Raven. “You two need to stop. We have to go.”

“If they follow, it’s a 120 mile walk to the ocean.” Bellamy informed you. 

“Like I said,” You moved closer to Bellamy. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take to make sure my people don’t die.”

“Look, we’re wasting time.” Finn interrupted. “If he wants to stay, he can stay.” 

“No, he can’t,” Clarke replied, but Finn was already out of the dropship. She turned and walked up to Bellamy to try and get him to come along.

“We can’t do this without you, Bellamy.” She told him.

“What do you want me to say, Clarke?” He replied angrily and with a steeled expression, keeping his gaze looking over her shoulder.

“I want you to say that you’re with us.” She said.

“Those kids out there,” You stepped in to help persuade him. “They listen to you, Bellamy.” 

“They’re lining up to go. They clearly listen to you more.” He countered. 

“We gave them an easy choice.” Clarke said. “But 5 minutes ago they were willing to fight and die for you. You inspire them.”

He looked up at the doors, and then to you without saying a word. “I’m afraid we’re gonna need that again before this day is through.”

She turned and walked out of the ship, while you took her spot in front of Bellamy and out a reassuring hand on his arm. “Come with us, Bellamy. You’re one of us, and like it or not, we need you.”

Not long after, everyone was ready to leave camp. The gunners were leading the walk to protect against any attacks, while the others stayed behind them and carried what they could. You and Clarke waited until everyone else was out of the camp to make your way to Bellamy, who was still looking at the ship. 

“You did good here, Bellamy.” Clarke assured.

“18 dead.” He said.

“And 82 alive.” You countered. “You did good.”

He nodded and tossed a bucket of water onto the fire, throwing it to the ground and walking away with you and Clarke. 

You’d walked a fair bit, keeping your hand on your sword’s hilt in case there was someone you needed to fight. It wasn’t very long until the group stopped moving, and from where you, Bellamy and Clarke were, you couldn’t see what was going on. It was then that you heard a loud thump and Jasper scream out that the grounders attacked did everyone rush to get back to camp.

You and Bellamy directed everyone inside the walls of camp and everyone moved to their own stations or foxholes, prepping hastily for the battle. You helped to close the door and unsheathed your sword while Bellamy was at the watchtower. 

“Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive.” Clarke said, directing her sentence to Finn.

“If it’s just scouts then we can fight our way out.” Octavia chimed in. “That’s what Lincoln would do.”

“We’re done doing what that grounder would do.” Bellamy jumped down from his post. “We tried it and now Drew’s dead. Do you wanna be next?”

“That grounder saved our lives.” Finn defended. “I agree with Octavia. For all we know there’s one scout out there.”

“Yeah, a scout with insanely good aim.” Jasper said. 

“Clarke, Y/n, we can still do this.” Octavia pleaded. 

“Looking at you guys, what’s it gonna be?” Bellamy asked you. “Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?”

You took a mental step back and assessed the situation. If you agreed with Octavia and fought your way to the ocean, you might not make it out alive. The grounders would surround you and you’d be in their territory, vulnerable to a major loss. If you stayed in camp and tried to do what you could to fight, you’d have a better chance of surviving and you’d likely lose less people to the grounders. 

You looked at Clarke and voiced your opinion as she looked out into the woods before jumping back down. “I say we’re staying. If we use everything we’ve got and fight like hell, we could actually make it out alive.”

“Clarke,” Finn grabbed the blonde’s arm. “If we’re still here when Tristan gets here-”

“Lincoln said ‘scouts’. More than one. He told us to get home before the scouts arrived. Finn, they’re already here.” She turned to Bellamy. “Looks like you’ve got your fight.”

“Okay then.” He spoke loudly to address the other campers. “This is what we’ve been preparing for. Kill them before they kill us.”

“Gunners, to your posts!” You shouted beside him. “Use the tunnels to get in and out. From now on, the gate stays closed.”

You watched everyone move into position as Octavia did, too, but Bellamy caught her arm, telling her she wasn’t a gunner and she defended herself before moving to the exit to help with the battle. 

“So, how the hell do we do this?” Clarke asked. You all moved into the dropship to explain the plan and information you had to her, Finn, and Raven.

“We’ve got 25 rifles with 20 rounds each, give or take.” Bellamy said. “Roughly 500 rounds of ammo.”

“While you two were gone, we made some improvements.” You took over. “Thanks to Raven, the gully is mined.” 

“Partially mined.” Raven corrected painfully. “Thanks to Murphy.”

“Still, it’s the main route in. If the grounders use it, we’ll know.” Bellamy told the room. 

“She also made grenades.” You picked one up to show Clarke and Finn.

“There’s not many,” Clarke commented.

“Again. Thank you, Murphy.” Raven said sarcastically. 

“We’ll make them count. If the grounders make it through the front gate, guns and grenades should force them back.” Bellamy pointed to the scale model of the front gate on the table. 

“And then?” Clarke asked worriedly.

“Then, we close the door and pray.” Raven said. 

“And pray what? That the ship keeps them out?” She asked. “Because it won’t.”

“Then let’s not let them get past the front gate.” You said, looking at the scale model and gripping your jacket sleeve in hopes to relieve some stress. 

“All foxholes, listen up.” Bellamy spoke into the radio. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.”

“That’s always your plan.” Finn said. “Just like the bomb at the bridge.”

“Damn right. You got a better idea?” 

“I think I do.” You spoke up. “Raven, you said there’s fuel in those rockets, right? Enough to build 100 bombs.”

“I also said we’ve got no gunpowder left.” She told you. 

“I don’t want to build a bomb.” You said. “I want to blast off.” 

“Draw them in close, fire the rockets. A ring of fire.” Clarke explained simply, smirking along with Raven. 

“Barbequed grounders. I like it.” Bellamy agreed.

“Will it work?” Finn asked Raven.

“The wiring is a mess down there, but yeah.” She turned to you and Bellamy. “If you give me enough time, I’ll cook ‘em real good.” 

You smirked at her and nodded, liking that you had an even better plan than what was formed before. Clarke and Finn went underneath the floor of the dropship to look for the ignition system while Raven sat near the floor entrance and worked on repairing the electrical board, while you and Bellamy headed out to prep for the impending and inevitable war.

It was nightfall when you heard the drums. You were by the fire, sharpening your own and other people’s blades in case it came time to use them. You looked to Bellamy, who seemed to have the same idea as you, and ran to the main foxhole. 

“Where’s Octavia?” He asked Miller.

“No idea. She left 5 minutes ago, didn’t say where to.” He responded. “She thinks she’s a damn samurai.”

“Do you see anything?” You asked, sword drawn.

“No.” Monroe replied frustratedly. “What the hell are they waiting for?”

“The longer they wait, the better. This is about buying time for Raven.” He told her.

“I see them! They’re moving!” Sterling’s voice cut through the air, slightly staticy. “I count 2, 3- no, wait, there’s more. I don’t know man, there’s too damn many of them!”

A gunshot rang through the air and Bellamy asked Miller who was on the radio. “Sterling, I think. South foxhole.”

More gunshots rang out as Bellamy pulled out his radio. “South foxhole, report now.”

“Yeah, yeah, We’re okay. They didn’t attack. It’s like shooting at ghosts.”

You kept your eyes on the terrain ahead of you, seeing grounders move across your field of vision. “There!” 

“I see them!” Monroe shouted, shooting at the grounders. Miller joined her and Bellamy shouted at them to stop.

“Reload, now.” He commanded, as they were both out of bullets. 

“Those were our last clips.” Miller told him.

“We should- we should fall back.” Monroe suggested, panicked.

“No.” Bellamy said. “If this position falls, they’ll walk right through the front door.”

You unsteadily readied your sword as Bellamy positioned himself to look through the scope of his gun. You kept your stance and listened to the radio, Jasper confirming that the land mines worked.

“Jasper, we need you in the dropship, now.” Clarke’s voice came through.

“Negative.” Bellamy responded. “We can’t give up the west woods.”

“The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out.” Clarke said. “Jasper, get in here.” 

“All gunners, listen up.” Jasper spoke. “The grounders are not attacking. They’re making us waste bullets. Don’t shoot when they’re running laterally.”

“Jasper’s right,” Bellamy confirmed. “Don’t fire until you’re sure it’s an attack. Repeat, do not fire until you are sure.”

Jasper then told Clarke that he was coming to help out, and you looked around worriedly. Something was feeling off to you. You didn’t know what it was, but your gut instincts were telling you to flee, to leave now and save yourself. But you knew to go against them, that you had to stay and fight. This was your battle, too. 

Then it came. The gunfire, the battlecry. Grounders were headed straight towards you. You swung your sword as they ran for you, Monroe falling back with Miller. You slashed one grounder's throat and spun as you did so, plunging your sword into another grounder’s chest. 

One of them attacked Bellamy and pushed him to the ground, Miller attempting to go after him, but failing when another grounder shoved his spear into Miller’s shoulder. Bellamy managed to fight the grounder, but failed when he was pushed to the ground again, the grounder’s hands tightening themselves around Bellamy’s neck. 

You were busy fighting one of the other grounders and couldn’t help, but once you had killed him, you saw Octavia shove her sword through the back of the grounder’s head and straight through his eye, saving her brother.

“Admit it, you want one.” She said, panting. Before she could help her brother up off the ground, an arrow fired from behind her and struck her in the leg, causing her to falter and fall, Bellamy catching her. 

“Miller! Fall back! Now!” He stood and grabbed Octavia by the arms to support her. “Can you walk?”

She stumbled and he put her arm over his shoulder. “O, hey. Hold on to me. Let me get you behind that wall.” He carried her bridal style and you followed behind, serving as cover for the siblings in case any grounders tried to attack them while they were vulnerable.

When you neared the gate, you heard screaming and metal clashing, causing Bellamy and you to skid to a halt. 

“What is that?” Octavia asked.

“I don’t know, but they’re distracted.” Her brother responded, placing her against a tree. “Let’s move.” 

“We’ll never make it.” Octavia panted. “Leave me. I’ll find another way.”

“No way in hell are we leaving you here.” You said. 

“Octavia!” Lincoln said from behind you as he broke through the trees. A small smile came to your lips as they hugged. 

“You did this?” Bellamy asked, nodding his head towards the reapers and grounders fighting one another.

“With Finn.” He told Bellamy. He looked down at the broken arrow in Octavia’s leg. “It’s deep.”

A grunt came from nearby and Lincoln spoke quickly. “I can help you, but you have to come with me now.” 

“Go.” Bellamy said. “Let him help you.”

“No way,” Said Octavia. “I have to see this through.”

“You can’t walk and we can’t get you to the dropship.” You intervened. 

“They’re right. This fight is over for you.” Lincoln told Octavia. 

“O. O, listen to me.” Bellamy said. “I told you my life ended the day you were born. The truth is, it didn’t start until then. So go with him. I need you to live. Besides, we’ve got this.”

You put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled at her, letting go so she could hug Bellamy and say their own goodbyes before being carried away by Lincoln so she could remain safe. 

You both paused for a minute until the shouting began again, revealing that the grounders were advancing on the wall. You and Bellamy picked up the pace and ran to the entrance. Clarke and Finn spotted the both of you, screaming for you to run, which you did. Bellamy picked up a gun and attempted to shoot at Tristan, but it was out of ammo. 

You didn't make it very far from the entrance when four grounders closed in on you. You managed to take down the first one with relative ease, slicing his throat. One of the others attempted to bash your head in but you sliced his arm, causing him to fall with pain. You kicked him over forcefully and plunged your sword into his heart.

You spun around to face another grounder, thrusting yourself and your sword forward, stabbing him in the stomach. You watched the dropship door close, and you feared you were running out of time. You froze in your spot, but not for very long when the last grounder that had surrounded you shoved his dagger all the way into your right side, more towards your back. 

The grounder left you once you collapsed to your knees, attempting to tear the dropship down to nothing with the rest of the army. You knew the blast was coming soon, so you dragged yourself to the exit and attempted pulling yourself to your feet. You groaned in pain, coughing at the sting of the blade. ‘I’ve been here for what, a month? And I’ve already been stabbed twice.’

You stumbled to the path that led out to the main gate as the rumbling of fire and the heat touched your skin. You slowly walked as the energy further drained from your body, feeling blood drip down your skin. The knife moved and tore your flesh every time you made a movement, but you knew it was important that you got to the main gate. You needed to survive. You needed to live. 

You felt yourself getting lighter with every step, pushing through bushes and shrubbery. A sigh escaped your dry and pale lips as you saw the treeline, the wall. You reached out to stabilize yourself on it, but you fell to your knees instead, collapsing as darkness surrounded you. Your torso and head hit the ground with a thud, but no pain was felt when you hit the dirt. You just closed your eyes, feeling at peace. 

Taglist:  @soullessbabee​ | @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis​ | @dummythiccwitch​ | @sireddobrev​ | @gxvrielle​ | @hurricane-abigail

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #this is war series

[the-delta-42]

Fallen

Based on This Post by @nerdasaurus1200

Fallen

Marinette scowled at the sky. Ever since Lila came back, everyone’s IQ had fallen to single digits, Max included. Alya had brushed Marinette’s concerns off a jealousy, but Marinette didn’t have any proof, aside from her own word and Adrien, who wanted to go with the high road approach.

Marinette inwardly snorted, Adrien had a heart of gold, but he seriously needed lessons on social skills. Marinette glanced down at the stub in her hand, if her parents found she had started smoking, they would flip. Marinette didn’t actually intend for smoking to become a habit, but another one of the class presidents had noticed she was stressed and given her a cigarette, it happened a few more time and it eventually stuck, Tikki always tutted and gave Marinette a disapproving look. Thankfully, no one came on to the roof to look for smokers, they always looked on the ground. Marinette stubbed the cigarette out and put it in a disused flower pot.

“Well, well, well,” Crooned a sickeningly sweet voice, making Marinette spin around, “what do I have here? Why, if it isn’t Marinette, breaking a school rule.”

Lila smirked smugly at Marinette, Marinette looked behind Lila and spotted Alix, Kim, Chloe and Sabrina.

“Can I help you?” asked Marinette, tiredly.

“You weren’t at lunch.” Said Lila, faux sweet voice lacing her words.

“Well, here I am,” Waved Marinette, “you can go now.”

“Oh, but, Marinette,” Said Lila, sweetly, “I don’t want to go.”

Marinette sighed, hauling herself to her feet, “Okay, but I don’t want to know what you’re doing up here.”

“But, Marinette,” Lila’s smirk went cold, “I want to talk to you.”

“How unfortunate, because I don’t want to talk to you.” Said Marinette, plainly.

Lila took a few steps closer, “I told Alya that I could help you start your fashion career, I told her I could introduce you to so many people.”

“I’m not interested in your lies, Lila,” Said Marinette, folding her arms, “your stories don’t work on me, it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone else cottons on.”

Alix went to advance toward Marinette, but Kim held his arm out.

“Let’s see how this ends.” Kim whispered his voice quiet.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lila grit out, fuming.

“It means, stop lying, once everything comes to light, the class, hell the school, will turn on you like a pack of dogs,” Said Marinette, “And believe me, they will tear you apart.”

Marinette stopped at the edge and looked across the City, for some reason, she felt oddly calm.

Lila let out a yell and charged at Marinette, her hands pushing Marinette’s back away from her, causing Marinette to topple over. Marinette let out a scream as she fell, abruptly cutting off as she hit the ground with a sickening crack-thud.

“Marinette!” Screamed Alix, as she ran past Lila and gawked over the edge of the roof.

Alix stood still for a moment, before she rushed back down the stairs, the others following after her, leaving Lila alone on the roof.

*/*

Adrien laughed as Nino imitated an elephant.

His father allowed him to have lunch at school, which gave him the opportunity to introduce Kagami to his other friends. Kagami had brought some of her classmates with her, Adrien presumed for moral support.

“Didn’t you say Marinette was going to be here?” Asked Kagami, looking around for the blue-eyed girl.

“Yeah, I think she’s caught up in something.” Said Adrien, making Alya snort.

“The girl is turning into a workaholic, one day she’s going to run herself into the ground.” Commented Alya, “She said someone wanted to speak with her and she’d join us as soon as she was done.”

Kagami hummed in response.

Alix suddenly burst into the courtyard.

“Lila just pushed Marinette off the roof.”

*/*

She was dead.

Lila could only stare at the body of the class representative that she had pushed off the roof. In hindsight, the push had been a bit much, she hadn’t meant to push her off the roof.

Lila could see her classmate slowly gather around the body, someone screamed and there were more than a few wails. Adrien looked up and made eye contact with Lila. She had never seen such hatred before and now she was witnessing it, all because Lila Rossi had murdered Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She didn’t think she could lie herself out of this one. She knew she couldn’t lie her way out of it when the class began hunting her down.

Lila started frantically looking for a way to get down without having to use the stairs she used to get up here. She spotted a fire escape, and ran for it, hastily rushing down the steps and into the alley that it let out into. Lila wasted no time in running home and hiding away in her room, she needed a way out of this mess without getting arrested.

*/*

They’d moved Marinette into an empty classroom. It had been an hour and the whole school had heard, and everyone was quiet when they were informed. Everyone was told that it was probably planned by Lila, as Kim, Alix and Sabrina had told the staff. The Art teacher had donated a sheet so her body could be covered. The Police and Ambulance were arriving, paramedics being taken to Marinette’s body.

An officer was questioning Marinette’s classmates when one of the Paramedics rushed in.

“We have to move her.” Said the Paramedic, gasping for air.

“Why?” Asked the Officer, “The Coroner’s van will be here in a minute.”

“She’s still alive, she’s being loaded into the Ambulance now.” The Paramedic then rushed out of the room, the Officer looking back at the class, before following her.

The classroom was silent, before Alya made a shuddery gasp.

“She’s alive.” Gasped Alya, her arms wrapped around Nino, “She’s still alive.”

“But for how much longer?” Came Adrien’s response, his tone dark.

No one wanted to give a thought to that possibility.

*/*

Tom and Sabine were in the middle of the lunch rush, when Police cars and an Ambulance arrived at the school across the road, one of their usual patrons entered, babbling about how someone had been pushed off the school roof.

The poor person left without collecting their change. Shortly afterwards, a Police Officer walked in, quietly asking to speak with them.

“I think you should sit down.” Said the Officer, as soon as they were somewhere private.

“Is something wrong?” Asked Tom, as he closed the door.

“I am afraid something has happened, concerning your daughter.” Answered the Officer.

“What’s wrong? Has she been arrested? Is she hurt?” Sabine threw a fast flurry of questions.

“No, she hasn’t been arrested,” Said the Officer, “at 13:47 today, one of her classmates had lured her up to the roof of her School and pushed her off. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the chances of your daughter dying is more likely than her survival.”

Neither spoke, before Sabine let out a shuddering gasp.

“Where is she?” Demanded Tom, his tone a mix of grief and rage.

*/*

The doctors were rushing around when the trolly came in, a doctor rushing over to them.

“Okay, what’ve we got?” Asked the Doctor, matching the pace of the paramedics and trolly.

“15-year-old female, Caucasian-Asian, was pushed off her schools’ roof.” A paramedic listed off, “The Police will want to question her if she wakes up.”

“When she wakes up.” Said the Doctor, looking down at the girl, “Anything else?”

“Severe trauma to the head and spine, possible punctured lung, her right arm is broken.” Came the response, “There’s also suspected internal bleeding, so there is a chance of there being other punctures.”

“Right,” Said the Doctor, before calling out, “Can someone prep her for surgery?”

*/*

By the time class had been released Marinette had been released from surgery, with Tom and Sabine sitting by her bedside.

“How is she?” Asked Alya, as she entered the room, Nino and Adrien trailing along behind her.

“They say she’s stable, but they don’t know if she’ll wake up or not.” Came Tom’s reply.

“Who did this?” Came Sabine’s quiet demand.

“Mrs. Cheng, I don’t think we’re allowed-” Sabine cut Adrien off mid-sentence.

“Who did this to my daughter?”

Everyone was quiet, before Alix piped up behind them.

“Lila pushed Marinette off the roof.” Said Alix, quietly pushing her way to the front.

“The girl with the lying disease?” Questioned Tom, as Adrien shifted slightly.

“Mr. Dupain, I don’t think that was a disease,” Said Adrien, “the only thing that would remotely match that is a compulsive lying disorder, which isn’t a disease.”

The room was silent, before Tom got up and muttered about how he needed to get outside. No one stopped him from walking out of the ward, while Sabine was gently stroking Marinette’s head.

*/*

Lila cowered under her desk in her room, she had heard someone knocking on the door to her home, Lila was desperately trying to think up something to get her out of this mess. She couldn’t fall back onto the lying disease, because there had been witnesses to Marinette’s murder and they all saw her push Marinette. She couldn’t claim self-defence, because Marinette was facing away from her. Lila was stuck in a corner, both figuratively and literally.

Lila stopped. She could say Marinette jumped and her push was actually her trying to save Marinette. Yes, that should work, it would take a few well-placed lies to get the class to believe her, but she might be able to get it to work.

Lila nodded to herself, she could work with this, and maybe, she could ruin Marinette as well.

There was a splintering sound as the front door was kicked in.

“Lila?” Came the voice of one of Paris’s heroes, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Lila clamped her hands over her mouth to prevent ant sound from escaping.

“Come on, Lila,” Whined Chat Noir, his claws scraping against a wall, “I only want to talk.”

Lila was breathing as quietly as possible, unwilling to remove her hands, lest she makes a noise, tears were streaming down her face. Lila’s door was kicked open and Chat Noir walked in.

“There you are.” Grinned Chat, as Cataclysm glowed in his hand.

Chat then rushed towards her, his cataclysm hand outstretched.

Lila woke with a gasp, sweat rolling down her body. She was in her bed; how did she get here? Then it all came crashing back to her. She pushed Marinette off the roof of the school and she planned on twisting it to make it seem Marinette was the aggressor.

Lila was drawn from her thoughts by the front door slamming shut.

“Lila!” Yelled her mother, making the girls heart sink.

“Y-yes, Mum?” called Lila, hoping her mother hadn’t already heard.

The sound of her mother stomping towards her room put a dull feeling of apprehension in her. Her door slammed open and her mother looked livid.

“What’s this I hear about you pushing someone off a roof?!” Demanded Lila’s mother.

*/*

“She’s lucky, I’ll say that much.” Said a Doctor, looking over Marinette’s file, “She’s going to need to rest to get the bones in her arm and leg to heal properly. Although, we’re going to want to keep an eye on her lungs for a while.”

“Why, was one of them punctured?” Asked Sabine, making the Doctor frown.

“Yes, but they’re just showing signs of smoking damage.” Said the Doctor, “It might be an idea to see if she has been smoking, just to be safe, since it could be smoke inhalation.”

The doctor finished up and left the room.

“Well, now we know why she was on the roof.” Said Sabine, looking over at her daughter, “Do you think we’ve been pushing her too hard?”

“I think it’s been a gradual thing, she started to struggle with things, and someone gave her a stress release.” Replied Tom, watching Marinette as she breathed in and out.

“We’ll have to talk to her about it when she wakes up.” Said Sabine, as Marinette shifted a little.

Both adults went silent as they watched Marinette wiggle around, before rolling over onto her side, her broken limbs resting on top of her non broken limbs. Marinette gave a little sigh and soft snores started coming from the bed.

“Well,” Said Sabine, her eyebrows raised, “at least we know she’s not in a coma.”

There was a flash and shutter sound at Tom took a picture.

*/*

A couple of weeks passed since Marinette woke up and was forced to come clean about her new habits, now she was sitting awkwardly, trying to take down notes from Ms. Bustier’s class. Her classmates tried to do it for her but stopped after Marinette made it clear she could manage. Marinette was avoiding Adrien’s gaze, she didn’t want to look at his smug face.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Marinette?” Asked Adrien, leaning towards Marinette, “It’s not to late to ask for help.”

“Bite me, Dracula.” Retorted Marinette, before swearing as she dropped her pen.

Ms. Bustier stopped and sighed.

“Adrien, please take Marinette’s notes for her, that’s the twenty-sixth time she dropped her pen.” Said Ms. Bustier, before continuing with the lesson.

Adrien looked beside himself, while Marinette pouted.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #alix kubdel #le chien kim #kim le chien #sabrina raincomprix #chloe bourgeois #Kagami Tsurugi #tom dupain #sabine cheng #delta writes #lila rossi #i left lila's punishment up to the reader #it's finished #finally #it's been in my folder for little over six months #as i casually ignore the works that have been there for two and a half years

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance Cycle: The Promise

(A/N: Way way WAAAAY Pre-Eragon. It’s rough and a majority of it was lurking in my drive folder for weeks. I wanted MIC!Brom and MIC!Arya interacting alone (aka without Izzy hovering and smothering Arya’s personality) together for the first time. The ending is shit and makes no sense, but I literally just wrote it and I’m having a hard time switching off the Japanese sentence structures (Japanese Sub-Obj-Verb vs English SVO) and whatnot and it’s just...a to-be-cleaned-later mess. But y’all gettin’ it anyway!!

Oh, also. I wanted Post-Fall Brom to be an angry jackass. Donno if that came across enough.)

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

“You’re leaving already?” 

Brom’s head snapped back, eyes narrowed as he searched the trees for the source of the voice. So the person– or thing, as you could never be sure in the heart of Du Weldonvarden– that had been following him for the past week was finally ready to reveal itself. 

Keen as he was, the Rider couldn’t pick out his second shadow from the mottled greens and browns above. They seemed content for him to answer before speaking again. 

No way around it then. Brom shifted his pack on his shoulders, and dropped a hand to the pommel of his borrowed sword. His pistol and rifle were dismantled in their cases tied to his backpack, a precaution Oromis and Glaedr had insisted on ever since their former student nearly attacked Rhunön more than a decade ago. “I have things to do.”

“Well, yeah.” There was the scuff of dried outer bark crackling as it was compressed. Brom whirled to the sound, blade halfway out of its sheath before he stayed his hand, now more annoyed than ever. “But it’s not like you’re finished here, are you?”

Crouched upside down with her bare feet planted on the bottom of a pine branch and fingertips digging into the bark, was an elf. She cocked her head at him, dark hair waving as she observed his nearly threatening stance and foot of naked steel that was still exposed at his side. 

And she gave him a sly smirk. 

“Are you going to draw on me, ebrithil shur’tugal?”

Brom felt his blood pressure jolt up several levels. “What do you want? Either say your piece or go away. I don’t have time for this.” He slammed his sword back into the sheath, locking the hilt in place. 

“Fine, fine.” The elf let go of the branch and twisted in the air, landing deftly on her feet. “I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t with everyone else around.” 

He wanted to say that the time for talk was over. That he was done playing politics in this damned forest and he was going to back to fix the problems the elves had abandoned when they retreated there. 

But his voice died in his throat as the elf came closer. No, not a full grown elf. An elfling, a child. He could see the faint silver of her skin now that she was not haloed by the dappled sunlight dripping down the tree.  

She bowed slightly, hand twisted over her heart in the elvish greeting before straightening and hesitantly held out her hand, almost appearing unfamiliar with the second gesture. “Stars watch over you. I’m–”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are, girl.” Brom ignored the offered hand and stepped around the elfling. Now that she was on the ground, she didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

There was a sudden snap in the air. Brom felt the hair on the back of his neck rise but refused to turn as the girl jogged to his side, obviously piqued. So she was still young enough to be bleeding uncontrolled magic into the world. “I was going to say, I’m Arya and my mother is not me and does not get to introduce me.” There was venom in her tone, something that the Rider had honestly not expected. What he had seen of Arya before was only a glimpse, usually several strides behind the Queen and watching the goings on quietly with wide, dark eyes. “And I want to talk to you.”

“Go home.” 

“No. I’m not letting you leave without talking to me.”

“We’ve talked. A conversation with several back and forth utterances has taken place. You can go.”

“Master Glaedr was right about you. Look, just take me with you.” 

Brom stopped. Now that was something he had not expected. The request, that is, not the comment about Glaedr. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“You heard me.” Arya crossed her arms, firmed her stance and glared at him with brilliant fire in her dark green eyes. “Take me with you.”

For a moment, Brom saw Evandar again. The elvish king’s rage at Galbatorix’s mindless slaughter of the dragons and innocents was something that was not easily forgotten. 

For the briefest flicker of time, Brom saw that rage again, barely contained within the small, half grown elfling planted defiantly before him. It was simmering just beneath the surface, threaded through with the innate defiance of youth and stubbornness that all but screamed Islanzadi’s name. 

There was conviction there as well. That, it seemed, was Arya’s claim alone. 

He turned to face her fully. “You want to go out there and fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’m sick of hearing about people dying.” Despite having to tilt her head back to keep steady eye contact with the Rider, Arya stepped forward into Brom’s personal space. “It’s time someone in this forest did something to fix the problems we brought about instead of moaning about the how Golden Age is gone while people out there die! So make no mistake, ebrithil shur’tugal. I’m going to help you stop this war so that no one else has to die for it. 

“I’m going to help kill the Forsworn and Galbatorix, and help to end this war.”

Unlike any other who could have heard them, Brom did not laugh at the young elf’s words. He searched her face, letting the ring of the bond in her last statement, forged in her switch the Ancient Language, cool in the air. In all that time Arya did not flinch. She did not back down nor show any flicker of doubt on her face or in her eyes. 

The elfing still did not move when Brom nodded slowly and rubbed at the stubble that patched his face. “Alright then. Seeing as how you just royally screwed yourself at...what, eight years old?”

Another snap of static flicked the air, this time pinging Brom on the neck as Arya’s eyes flashed. “I’m twelve.”

“Right, right. Royally screwed yourself and your entire life by magically forcing yourself to join a war and probably get yourself killed, then fine.” Brom put his finger up to halt the growing excitement he could see rising in the little elf. “But. Not now. Give it a few years. Ten, maybe twenty or so...and I’ll see if you’re ready to start working on your promise.”

The near feral grin that split Arya’s face startled him. This was something he had not seen before in Islanzadi nor Evandar. The wild, vibrant spirit waiting to be unleashed on the world was all Arya’s own. He shook hands with the elfling to seal their agreement. 

“Tell the Forsworn I’m coming for them, yeah?”

Brom grinned despite himself. He knew that the girl had likely signed her own death warrant this day. But something about that half crazed smile she wore told him otherwise.

#modern inheritance #inheritance cycle #modern inheritance cycle #modern inheritance story #inheritance #eragon fanfiction #modern eragon #eragon art #modern eragon fanfiction #mic #mic fanfic #mic fanfiction #mi fanfiction #arya drottningu #brom #saphira #islanzadi #oromis #glaedr #elves #uhhh #eragon fic #just trying to cover a lot of bases here #anyway hit me up guys procrastinating WOOOO

[wordsfromthesol]

Past Misconceptions (1/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary:  Jason knew you from Gotham Academy, but always thought you were like the rest of the stuck up rich people who went there. Warnings:  Language (shocking, I know), violence, blood Word Count: 1.6k

Part Two

You wandered your way into the courthouse and sat near the back already dreading the events of the day. Silence overcame the courtroom and the proceedings began. The lawyers didn’t even finish their opening remarks when several armed men threw back the doors. Before you knew it, everyone was lined up against the wall and the masked men were waiting in the halls, for what – you had no idea. Trying to distract yourself, you looked around at all the scared faces in the room, including your brothers. You flashed a reassuring smile in his direction before continuing around the room. Your eyes landed on a familiar face. Jason Todd. 

Why the hell is he here? Didn’t he…like…die or something? You look up and he’s a lot closer to you than he was before. What the fuck, is he trying to test these guys? Nervously, you glanced towards the intruders and then quickly back at him, it was your attempt at a warning. Jason met your eyes and a smirk formed on his lips as he rose to his feet and sauntered over to the nearest armed assailant. You have no idea why, but suddenly you were standing beside him mumbling,

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just trying to see what’s going on, sweetheart.”

“You mean trying to get everyone killed.”

The two of you reached the man and Jason tapped him on the shoulder. REALLY JASON. You were screaming in your head, but once again your mouth opened before you knew what you were doing.

“I’m so sorry. I have to use the bathroom.” The man stared at you, unsure of what to do. Clearly, he wasn’t in charge, but you continued leaning in closer to the man. “It’s just, well I’d rather not bleed everywhere.” Playing your part, you looked down to the ground.

“Uhm, yeah…the uhm,” he glanced at Jason, “boyfriend here, has to stay put though.” Jason spun you into a hug and placed something in your hand. You followed the man to the bathroom and watched as he posted himself just outside the door, along with a friend. Great, two of them. There’s no way I can get passed them. Looking around, you hoped there would be some kind of window. No such luck. Not even a comically oversized air vent to squeeze into. All those movies lied to me. You opened your hand to find a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. I hope this number gets texts. Quickly, you pressed in the number and wrote out:

“Jason Todd gave me this number. Everyone in the courthouse is being held hostage. Seems like they are waiting for something…or someone. I saw 10 people, all armed. Could be more that didn’t come into the room.”

Before you left you dialed 911 and turned the volume all the way down before placing the phone back in your purse.

“So,” you began as you exited the bathroom, “why are you holding up the courthouse? Trying to break someone out or something?”

“Heh, why should we tell you?”

“What, aren’t all bad guys just dying to explain their plan?”

“You watch too many movies, kid.”

“I’m 24, but I definitely watch too many movies.”

Just as you rounded the corner the two men stopped answering your comments, almost as if they were scared as well. You walked back into the room and noticed your brother staring in both relief and curiosity. Quickly, you looked away, you had a feeling your connection to Jason could cause trouble…and your brother was in enough already. Your eyes wandered around the room until you found Jason, sitting where you were before the bathroom trip. Jason waited for the men turn back to the hall before he spoke up.

“Did you do it?”

“Do what? All you did was give me a piece of paper, Jason.” Jason had to admit, he was stunned you remembered his name. He was the outsider at Gotham Academy, and you, you were Miss Popular. At least, in his mind, you had always been – that was one of the reasons he avoided you in school. They are all stuck up and have everything handed to them, no one here has any idea of how real life looks. Jason remembers those words, he had thought them every day at that school. “Yes, I texted the number. I would’ve tried to get out completely, but sadly there were no windows in that damn bathroom.”

Jason chuckled, “Wow, did you really think there would be?”

“A girl can dream.”

“If you dream, you must endure the occasional nightmare as well.”

I’m sorry what did Jason Todd just say to me? You couldn’t even process his words in order to create a response so you sat in silence, risking quick glances at your brother when you could. Jason soon noticed who had caught your eye.

“So what, bad-boy boyfriend in trouble?”

“You’re an asshole.” You preferred to offer up as little information as possible, but Jason kept his eyes trained on yours until you gave in. “He’s my brother. My little brother.”

“Heh, I thought you rich people could just pay your way out of court.” The memories started to stir in your mind, bringing to light emotions that you thought were long buried and forgotten.

“Yeah, uhm, normally, I guess…” Your stuttered words were all you could manage, especially as you caught movement in your peripheral vision. Whipping your head around, you noticed your brother itching to run. Unfortunately, you knew the signs all too well – before he had time to make a move you were on your feet heading towards the armed men.

“Look, I don’t know who you are waiting for…but can’t you just let us go. It’s not like we can do anything anyways.” Someone who was clearly more in charge than the last man you spoke with hastened towards you.

“Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you are. Or why you think you’re special. But I guarantee we can make negotiations with one less hostage. So. Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

You felt a tug at your wrist and looked back to find Jason behind you, you hadn’t even realized he got up and followed you. Hoping that the outburst caused enough of a scene to allow your brother to rethink his place, you sat back on the floor next to Jason.

“Y/N,” Jason seethed, “what the fuck were you thinking.”

“That I just stopped my brother from getting shot.” In actuality you weren’t thinking at all, well you were, just not about your own well-being. Jason could see the concern in your eyes and realized this wasn’t the best time to scold you.  

He let out a sigh, “Help is on the way. Just give it time.”

“Yes, let me trust the guy who refused to talk to me in high school. Let me just hop right on that train.”

“HEY! You two, shut the fuck up before I make you!” I guess your voices had gotten a bit loud, because when you turned to face the armed assailant you noticed that everyone was staring at you. Fuck. So much for leaving my brother out of this. Nearly another hour had passed, in silence, before you noticed Jason getting clearly frustrated.

“You did text that number right?”

“Yeah, of course I did. Maybe they just don’t care.”

“No. They should’ve been here. These guys must be jamming the signals, that’s why they haven’t searched anyone for a phone.” Jason looked around, “I’m going to have to do this myself. How many men did you notice?”

“Well aren’t you all high and mighty, but you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you try and do this yourself. I counted ten on the way to the bathroom, but there are five more courtrooms. You have to assume there is at least one man in each of those as well.”

“Alright, I’m going –”

“What did I just tell you idiots. I said quite. Next time, I’m just going to start shooting.”

Jason rose to meet the masked man, though Jason stood quite a bit taller and was definitely broader, the man seemed unfazed…though so did Jason. “Yeah and next time there will be another next time. Look buddy, shooting people is scary and I don’t think you actually have the balls.” You were at Jason’s side before he finished his sentence and you knew this couldn’t end well. The man rose the gun and pressed it against Jason’s chest.

“Don’t tempt me, boy. I will shoot if I have to. Now sit.”

Jason spun on the heel of his foot and began to walk back towards the wall. He stopped short and turned and spoke before realizing that you had followed him to the man, but not back to the wall. “Oh, but what fun is life if not for temptations…how sad I couldn’t tempt you. Maybe there’s a boss I could –” The sound of gunfire rang in the air, though Jason did not feel anything. Did this amateur really fire a warning shot at me? That was when his eyes sunk to the floor where you laid, blood pooling around you.

“NO! Y/N!” The words resonated through the courtroom as a young man sprinted towards his sister. Jason just stood there in shock. Shock that the man actually fired. Shock that you jumped in front.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #red hood x you #dc imagine #dc reader insert #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #batfam #batfamily

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

The Chameleon

*Not My Gif*

Post: 12-24-19

Paring: Bart Allen x Reader (Earth-24), Barry Allen x Reader (Earth-1), Cisco Ramon x Reader (Earth-1)

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: Okay, New Series! Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged! I’m not sure how this is going to turn out so please comment and reblog your thoughts!

Also, for this series everyone is going to be roughly the same age since they’re on different earths and the timeline isn’t matching up with the show at all 😊

~Master~

~Flash Master~

Your earth was ending. The planet was being destroyed. Your planet was going up in flames as we speak. And what were you doing? Running around trying to find your friends.

“Bart!” You yelled as you entered StarLabs, dodging the ceiling falling down on you in an instant as you called for your best friends. “Bart! Nora!”

“Y/N!” A woman’s voice came from the room next to you as you stopped, trying to open the door only to find it locked.

“Nora! I need you to open the door! Nora, You have to unlock it!” You pounded on the door, hearing the girl gasp for breaths on the other.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can Nora! You just need to crawl to the door!” A beam fell next to you, knocking you over and making your head slam against the ground with a groan. The door swung open to reveal a severely burned Nora crawling while clutching her stomach.

“Y/N?” She couched out, helping you off the ground.

“Nora, where’s Bart? Where’s your brother?” You groaned as she wheezed out your name again. The room continued to fall, fire coming down from the roof as you pulled Nora’s hand around your neck, trying to get her to stand up but she just shook her head, coughing up blood as she laid back down.

“Go find Bart, Y/N. I can’t- I’m not going to make it.” She whispered before the blood started to dribble out of her mouth. Your eyes went wide, tears no doubt falling from your eyes traveling down to where she was clutching her stomach. A small sharp part of the building impaled her, blood seeping through her clothes as she grabbed your hand. “Y/N, find him.”

You couldn’t leave her, not even if she was dying. You shook your head, grabbing her hand tighter as you closed your eyes. “I can’t leave you. You’re my family.” She smiled, kissing the back of your hand before pushing you away seconds before the ceiling caved in right on top of her, crushing her in an orange hue. Your screams were drowned out by the world as you scrabble to your feet, running out of the lab and into the streets. Tears steadily poured out of your eyes as you looked at what your world had become.

Your scream was no longer the only one as you made your way through the streets towards Bart’s house. When the sky lit up a dark red, everyone including yourself turned up towards it, watching as what seemed like pieces of the sun hurled towards earth. It covered the globe, a nonstop swarm of fire killing you all as the ground started shaking, a thick break heading right down the street towards you. You flew out of the way, grabbing ahold of anyone you could as the ground ripped apart, swallowing several hundred people who didn’t move fast enough.

A woman thanked you, grabbing your hand but you paid her no attention, your sights set on the yellow streak racing through the houses next to you.

You pushed the woman off of you and ran towards the streak. “Bart!” He stopped, turning to you and wrapping his arms around you in an instance. “Oh, Thank god.” You mumbled, pressing your face in the crook of his neck. You both held onto each other as tight as you could, Bart’s hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he took his mask off.

“Y/N, look at me.” He pulled you away from him, wiping the tears from under your Y/E/C eyes as you looked into his. He took your hand, placing something in it before kissing you. You were shocked at the action but none the less missed back, silently sobbing at the fact it very well would be your fist and last kiss with the man you secretly fell in love with. The moment ended so soon as a building not that far from you fell, collapsing in on its self. “Find Nora, Y/N.”

You felt the guilt fall from your body as you stared at him, begging you to find his twin. “Bart, Nora, I- I found her... she didn’t... she didn’t make it.” Bart’s grip on you tightened as his mouth trembled, the news breaking him to his core but he composed himself, tears freely falling as he ignored them.

“Get somewhere safe Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

You looked around and saw the men and woman running for their lives before shaking your head. “There’s no where that’s safe anymore Bart. The whole worlds gone.”

He just smiled at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Then try another world.” He let go of you, about to run off before you pulled him back.

“Bartholomew Henry Allen, I can’t do this without you.” Your voice broke as you looked at him for the last time, memorizing his face as best as you could. A woman’s shrill scream caught your attention as a building fell on her, fire forming all around her as Bart and you shared a look. “Go, be a hero.”

“Be back in a Flash.” He kissed you again, one more feel of his lips before speeding off.

You finally looked in your hand, seeing the piece of metal Bart put in your hands just minutes ago.

Your extrapolator.

Then try another world.

A crash pulled your thoughts away as you saw your world fall. You saw Bart fall. The ground was crumbling apart, breaking every which way as it took Bart down with it. You screamed his name as he tore his mask from his head, his worried eyes finding yours as he tried to run, only the ground was gone before that. Bart was gone. Your world was gone. The ground kept going, taking people with it to the earths core as you stood frozen staring at your tech in your hand.

You didn’t even know if it would work, you never got to test it, but now’s as good of time as any, you were going to die anyways.

You held the extrapolator to your heart, looking at where Bart stood one last time as you sobbed. “Goodbye Bart.” You whispered as you pressed the button. A breach opened 10 feet in front of you as the ground shook, breaking just between you and breach. You ran, faster than you ever had in your life as you closed the distance. The ground fell under your feet right as you jumped, right into the breach.

Your eyes were closed as you laid on the street, bleeding in more places than one. The first thing you felt was the sun, beaming down on you and for a split second you didn’t think the jump worked, but then you noticed the silence in screams as the birds chirped and the cars drove by.

You made it to another earth.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone asked, the voice all to familiar as you peeled your eyes open. The sun poured into your eyes as you blinked, seeing the silhouette of a man standing above you. “Ma’am?”

He crouched down, and blocked the sun, letting you get a look at the full body scarlet red suit he wore along with a mask to hide his face. Your heart skipped a beat. “Bartholomew?”

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[anamariamauricia]

An excerpt from the unfinished Part 6 of Fortunate To Be Loved By You, which takes place post S3

“I am with child.” 

Anne thought she might have caught the slightest twitch of Milady’s eyebrows, otherwise the woman only stared at her for several seconds before blinking. ‘I know a woman, I will see if she’s still in Paris, but rest assured, Majesty, I’ll get you what you need as soon as possible.”

Anne’s own eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“Surely you can’t risk suspicion that the King is also Aramis’ son, and I doubt a prolonged absence from court to have the child in secret would go over well either.”

Anne lowered her gaze, understanding her meaning. If this had happened later on, she would have had to consider that option, and it made her wonder how or why Milady knew such a woman, but those were questions for another time. 

“I carry my late husband’s child,” Anne corrected her. Looking straight into Milady’s eyes, she further clarified, “As I will explain to the Council, we were together before he passed.” 

Raising her chin slightly as understanding washed over her features, Milady then bowed her head. “Of course. Forgive me, Your Majesty, I did not realise how far along you are,” she said, easily going along with the change in direction. “What do you need of me then?”

“I need you to spread the word. I will not make a public announcement until the child quickens as is tradition, but I want the people to be aware of my condition sooner. I want to be in control of the gossip.” The people did not know the truth about her and Aramis’ relationship as Milady did, but Anne did not want to rely on their ignorance and the assumptions they might come up with on their own.

“I see. Well then, I would advise keeping things simple and vague, but is there anything specific you would like me to include?”

“Our grain of truth is that the King visited my apartments in the weeks before his death and we reconciled. Servants can attest to leaving us alone. Build on that. Embellish it. Make it romantic. He knew he was dying and so we started trying for another child, a new heir for France. He named Treville regent so that I could focus on our children. Something like that." Something to make it sound like he loved her. 

“As you wish, but may I suggest something?” said Milady, and after Anne nodded, she continued, “If you don’t want anyone to suspect that Aramis is the father, then allow me to start spending some time with him.”

“You mean to make everyone think he is sleeping with you and not me?”

“Indeed.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Believe me, I have no intention of stealing your lover from you. All it would take is me being seen entering or leaving his rooms, perhaps a few tokens of affection, and they’ll be calling me a--well, names, in no time.”

As uneasy as the thought initially made her, she had to admit that it did sound like a good plan the more she considered it. “You would do this for us?” she asked. She supposed the woman might seek an increase in pay for this, but still, to volunteer to put herself out there and sacrifice what remained of her reputation for a fake relationship was no easy thing, at least not to Anne.

“I wish you all to keep your heads on your shoulders.”

                                              MMMMMMMMMM  

“What’s all this?” d’Artagnan questioned as he and Constance reached the top of the stairs and saw the small crowd of people standing at the end of the hallway leading to Aramis’ quarters.

“Her Majesty has been feeling unwell as of late, a minor cold most likely,” they heard Aramis announce, and Constance had to stifle a laugh, knowing full-well that what ailed the Queen was no minor cold.  “Come back later and I’ll have found out whether she’ll be up to receiving anyone today.”

As the crowd of murmuring courtiers made their way to the stairs, Constance and d’Artagnan stepped aside to let them pass, and caught the odd comment as they went by.

“Shooing us away to return to his bed most likely,” one said with a shake of his head.

“Couldn’t look in a mirror before coming out?” said another.

Constance chuckled softly, and exchanged an incredulous look with d’Artagnan. That didn’t sound like Aramis. What did the first comment mean though? Did he look like he just rolled out of bed? His hair always looked somewhat of a mess, albeit an artfully dishevelled mess that many women found dashing--or so she’d heard.

“Look!” someone whispered sharply, bringing the crowd to a halt.

Turning their heads in the indicated direction, Constance saw a dark-haired woman with her back to them, walking in the opposite direction of the courtiers. 

“Is that...?” d’Artagnan wondered beside her.

Before going down another hallway, the woman turned and Constance watched as Milady de Winter put her fingers to her bright red lips and blew a kiss in the direction of...in the direction of Aramis. And now that the crowd had cleared, not only could she see him blow a kiss in return, but she could see that his hair did look more ruffled than usual and he had...he had a pair of bright red lips stamped right in the middle of his cheek. 

Her feet moved on their own accord, swiftly going after Aramis’ now-retreating figure.

"How could you!" she called out as she caught up to him just outside his office. How could he do this to Anne? Does pregnancy make her less desirable? Is she too busy, too tired to fulfill his needs?

Aramis whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of her. "Constance, wait--" but before he could say anymore, Constance punched him square in the face.

“Constance!” she heard d’Artagnan shout behind her as she clutched her now-throbbing hand.

Ignoring him, as well as the pain, she began to berate Aramis as he straightened, a hand covering his face where she hit him, though she had already caught sight of his own red-stained mouth and could even now see the outline of lips that marked his neck and, oh God, even the patch of skin where his shirt opened was not unmarked. It made her want to punch him again, or perhaps kick him where it mattered. "I ought to tie you down and--" 

"Get in!" Aramis pleaded from behind his hand. Grabbing her by the elbow with the other, he practically dragged her into his office just as Anne came through the doors connecting to Aramis’ bedroom.

“What...?” Anne asked, looking slightly alarmed. She held up a white cloth in her hand and it had a red smear on it, the same colour as the lips that stamped Aramis’s face and neck...the same colour that still partially remained on Anne’s own lips.

Constance heard the office door close behind her before d’Artagnan spoke up, “Can someone please explain what’s going on.”

Aramis groaned in pain. “You broke my nose!”

Whipping her head around, she saw Aramis with his head thrown back, fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket. Pulling his hand away from his face, she saw the blood on it, and the streams coming from his nostrils and spreading into his reddening mustache.

Anne immediately went to him, offering the cloth in her hand and guiding him to a chair d’Artagnan quickly pulled over.

“Constance, there’s a basin of water in his bedroom, could you fetch it?” 

Snapping out of her stupor, Constance unrooted her feet from the ground to fulfill Anne’s request. Minutes later, once the bleeding had stopped and Aramis was somewhat cleaned up, Anne and d’Artagnan stood on either side of the small mirror Aramis held up to examine his nose.

“Nothing looks out of place,” said d’Artagnan. “I don’t think it’s actually broken, or at least, not badly.”

Anne hummed in agreement. “Still straight, though I do believe it’s started to swell.”

Letting the hand holding the mirror drop to his lap, Aramis closed his eyes and sighed but Constance couldn’t tell whether it was out of relief or discomfort. When he opened his eyes again, they slid over to her.

“How’s your hand?” he asked.

Constance shook her head. “It’s fine,” she answered, flexing her fingers. Her hand was aching but she felt too guilty to say so. “Surprising considering how thick your head is.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile and it made her relax some. “I am so sorry Aramis,” she began, turning serious. “I shouldn’t have thought--”

Aramis put up a hand to stop her before accepting the wet cloth d’Artagnan offered him. “You thought exactly what we want people to think. And if we fooled you, we can fool anyone,” he told her, and then placed the cloth on his nose. 

Anne smiled at her sympathetically. “We were going to tell you our plan, that’s why we summoned you both, only you arrived earlier than expected.”

“To be fair, Majesty, I think your thoroughness in the, um, application of certain cosmetic touches took longer than expected as well,” Aramis added with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows, to which Anne glanced over to the bright red stain of rouge that peeked out from the opening in his shirt, a faint blush then creeping up her neck as she avoided the eyes of the room’s other occupants. 

Once she had taken a breath and composed herself, Anne looked to Constance. “It warms my heart to know you would defend my honour so fiercely, Constance, but I’m afraid we’ll have to come up with a different excuse for Aramis’ injury.”

Aramis softly groaned. “I’ll be needing your powders then, Majesty.”

“To cover up the bruising?”

“Mhm, and then d’Artagnan can re-break my nose.”

#annamis #the musketeers #milady de winter #constance bonacieux #d'artagnan #anne of austria #aramis #anne and aramis #and voila! #the start of annamis + milady becoming friends #milady goes to aramis' rooms where anne already is via secret passageways #and the three of them pass the time playing cards. talking. #annamis try to get milady to participate in their bible discussion (a no-go) #*seagull voice* mine #msktrs fanfic

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Song Remains The Same: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,934

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

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Just then, a loud-pitched noise sounded which was an angel talking. Your ears rang from the noise, but you casted your magic around the room to lessen the pain for everyone else. Your mother tried to help, but she was focused on using her magic to protect you inside of her. It became too much to bear, and everyone covered their ears just as glass and lightbulbs shattered, plunging the room into darkness. This happened for a few minutes before the angels shut up. The front door flies open, a sound of angel wings is heard, and a younger Uriel enters the room.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean glared.

“Uriel?” you asked, remembering that he died.

“So, you do know me,” he chuckled.

Sam backed up and urged Mary, John, and your mother to leave the house through the back. They turned to leave but stopped when Anna appeared.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” you muttered just as they attacked.

Both you and Dean went after Uriel while Sam went after Anna. He held the angel blade in his hands, but Anna knocked that shit right out of his hands. John saw an opportunity and took it, snatching the angel blade off the ground and going to use it. However, Anna saw this coming and threw him through the wall and into the backyard.

“John!” Mary yelled.

Turning to face Uriel, you threw magic balls that appeared out of your hands. He dodged your attempts to hurt him and grabbed Dean by the throat when he got the chance. Your eyes were the brightest they have ever been since you wanted to do maximum damage. Uriel was a lot stronger when he was younger, so he was able to overpower you more quickly. He grabbed at your throat and forced you on your knees.

Your mother took the chance to attack, but Uriel was having none of it. He held his hand out and forced her to her knees as she clutched her stomach. She wasn’t as strong as she was before since she had a baby to protect now. Anna had an opportunity and she took it. She ripped a fixture from the wall and shoved it into Sam’s abdomen.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled.

Sam began to bleed profusely through the wound since it was too much for him to bear. He slid to the floor as his skin began to pale. He was dying, if not already dead.

“Sam!” you yelled, trying to get to him.

“I’m really sorry,” Anna said to Marry who could only watch in horror.

“Anna,” John said from behind, but this time he was different.

There was a white glow around his body, and you knew that he was possessed by an angel. The question was… which one?

“Michael,” Anna gasped.

Michael placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder, and she began to burn from that spot. She quickly bursts into flames as white ones shot out of her eyes. She turned to a crisp and her body fell away in ashes. The archangel turned to Uriel once he finished.

“Michael. I didn’t know.”

“Goodbye, Uriel,” he claimed, snapping his fingers to make the angel disappear.

“What did you do to John?” Mary demanded to know.

“John is fine.”

“Who—what are you?”

“Shh,” he whispered, touching her forehead to knock her out.

She fell to the ground unconsciously. He looked at your mother before snapping his fingers. She dropped to the ground, and you were going to go to her when he stopped you.

“She’s fine, and you’re unharmed. Don’t worry,” he cleared his throat. “Well, I'd say this conversation is long overdue, wouldn't you?”

Your eyes never fell back to their normal color in case you needed to do some damage to this archangel, no matter how small it may be.

“Ah, much like me, my aunt took up a bloodline. I didn’t know that before I put her away for all eternity,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty powerful.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“Fix him,” Dean demanded as he pointed to his brother.

“First… we talk. Then, I fix your darling little Sammy.”

“How'd you get in my dad, anyway?”

“I told him I could save his wife, and he said yes.”

“I guess they oversold me being your one and only vessel.”

“You're my true vessel, but not my only one.”

“Like me?”

“Precisely.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It's a bloodline,” you answered for him.

“Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It's in your blood, your father's blood, your family's blood. You’re a bit different, Y/N. Amara chose you from the very start of creation.”

“So, she is real.”

“Oh yes, she is. She belongs where she is. She has no place in this world. I’m not sure how, but she chose a bloodline while being locked away. We locked her away millennia before humans were created.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want with me?”

“You really don't know the answer to that?”

“Well, you know I ain't gonna say yes, so why are you here? What do you want with me?!” Dean yelled.

“I just want you to understand what you and I have to do.”

“Oh, I get it. You got beef with your brother. Well, get some therapy, pal. Don't take it out on our planet!”

“You're wrong. Lucifer defied our father, and he betrayed me. But still… I don't want this any more than you would want to kill Sam,” the archangel turned away in thought. “You know, I practically raised my brother. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand, and I still love him,” he turns back to you two. “But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.”

“Oh, because God says so?” you scoffed.

“Yes. From the beginning, he knew this was how it was going to end.”

“And you're just gonna do whatever God says?”

“Yes, because I am a good son.”

“Being a good son doesn’t mean obey every command, Michael. Being a good son means you love unconditionally and make mistakes because that’s how you learn to be better,” you explained with a sigh.

“And you think you know better than my father? Two unimportant little creatures. What makes you think you get to choose?”

“Because I got to believe that I can choose what I do with my unimportant little life.”

“You're wrong. You know how I know? Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, to meet, to fall in love, and to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that led your bloodline to circle back to Amara. Think of the million random choices that you two make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random. It's not chance. It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will is an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes. It could be worse. You know, unlike my brothers, I won't leave you a drooling mess when I'm done wearing you. Can’t say the same for Amara if she ever comes out.”

“Well, what about my dad?”

“Better than new. In fact, I'm gonna do your mom and your dad a favor. Even yours, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Scrub their minds. They won't remember me or you.”

“You can't do that.”

“I'm just giving your mother what she wants. She can go back to her husband, her family—”

“She's gonna walk right into that nursery!” Dean yelled.

“My mother is going to die by the hands of Meg!!”

“Obviously. You always knew that was going to play out one way or another. You can't fight City Hall,” Michael sighed, going over to Sam. He pressed two fingers to his forehead, and the younger brother disappeared within a moment. The pipe that was inside his body clunks to the ground. “He's home. Safe and sound. Your turn. I'll see you soon, Dean.”

Michael touched yours and Dean’s foreheads, and everything went black.

Now that you were back in your own time, things were different. Well, everything stayed the same with your mom and the brothers’ parents still dying, but the atmosphere changed between you three. The room was thick with tension as you packed in silence. The only thing on your mind was Castiel, and where the hell he was or if he was okay. Looking up, you noticed the angel in question standing behind you with a look of pain etched into his face.

“Castiel,” you gasped, rushing over to him.

Sam and Dean did the same when they heard your outburst.

“Cas!” Dean said as he hurried over to help.

“We got you.”

“You son of a bitch. You made it.”

“I… I did? I'm very surprised,” he mumbled before collapsing.

The brothers held him up, and thought the best idea was to lay him on the bed to rest. Once there, you got next to him to heal him.

“You’re going to be okay, Castiel,” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek.

His skin absorbed your magic, and a white light shined through his mouth and nose. Whatever you did worked only a little bit.

“Well… this is it,” Dean sighed.

“This is what?”

“Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, Mr. Comatose over there, and a witch. It's awesome.”

“It's not funny,” you sighed.

“I'm not laughing. Want a drink?” Dean offered.

Sam nodded, but you had a strange feeling that you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol. There was something deep in your gut that told you alcohol was a bad idea.

“No thank you.”

“They all say we'll say yes,” Sam sighed, accepting the drink.

“I know. It's getting annoying.”

“What if they're right?”

“They’re not,” you muttered.

“I mean, why would we, either of us? But then again, I've been weak before.”

“We’re not you, Sam,” you snapped. His face fell at your jab, and you immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I was out of line.

“You’re right. I mean, Michael got Dad to say yes.”

“That was different. Anna was about to kill Mom.”

“And if you could save Mom… what would you say?” Sam asked.

“We should get some sleep. We can head out tomorrow morning,” you sighed.

“Yeah, good idea,” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s question.

Staring at the flickering 24-hour sign posted in the gas station across town, you took a deep breath. There was no one on the road, no one passing through because everyone was asleep.

Why weren’t you?

Something was calling you here, to do what you were about to do. The thought was planted in your mind before going back in time, but you tried to ignore it. There was no way this was happening now; you wouldn’t allow it.

Walking inside the place, you headed to the section specifically for these products. Grabbing two, you paid for them and headed back to the motel since you didn’t want to do it in a gas station. Making sure you were really quiet, you headed to the bathroom before doing what needed to be done.

The wait process was always the worst since three minutes can feel like hours. Nonetheless, when the time was up, you looked at the results. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing right now.

You are pregnant.

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