#and making sure they keep seeing the promise of land ahead

[vorbarrsultana]

another headcanon: finrod and fingon became truly close friends in helcaraxë. they spent a lot of time together because someone had to step up and be fingolfin's right and left hands. (fingolfin is sure he would have gone mad without them. fingon and finrod are sure they would have gone mad without each other.)

#they are both hope personified #and the kind of elves that would go around during short periods of rest just chatting with their people #cheering them up and allowing them to cry on their shoulders #and making sure they keep seeing the promise of land ahead #also if i had to pick a finwëan cousin who could have known about /rescue maedhros/ plan #i would pick finrod! #he's the only other elf who would say #sure fingon go ahead a harp and faith in inherwnt goodness of the world is enough to take on melkor #*inherent #tolkien #the silmarillion #fingon #finrod

[catboyieejeno]

seventeen reaction ˚୨୧⋆˚

⋆ hhu ver.

oddly specific details/key points of their relationship with you

cw: sfw, 'girl' is only mentioned once in wonwoo's, mentions a period once, and mentions showering together in mingyu's but it's not sexual, npr!

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol

⋆ seungcheol, who refuses to wake you up when he leaves early for practice/schedules, no matter how much you insist that he should.

when you bring it up, he always promises you that he will next time, and in that moment, he really isn't lying! he fully intends on fulfilling your wishes and waking you up to let you know he'll be heading out; in fact, there's nothing he wants more than to selfishly wake you and bid you a proper goodbye each and every morning he has to leave for work. except on the day of, when his alarm rings at nearly six in the morning, his plans change completely. he spends the better part of an hour talking himself up to the grueling task ahead of him, reminding himself that you literally want him to wake you up.

after he's showered, gotten ready, and is moments away from heading out, seungcheol's eyes land on you, face poking out under all the blankets that you love hogging, cheeks smushed and drool gathering at the corner of your lip. that's when he realizes he doesn't have it in him to disturb your slumber, and he probably never will. ultimately, he breaks his promise, settling instead for leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek and a note or text where he expresses his apology and explains that you deserved the rest. secretly enjoys the earful he gets later, and makes it up to you so sweetly.

⋆ seungcheol, who doesn't let you lift a finger when it's not necessary: "don't worry, i'll take care of it."

it doesn't matter to seungcheol that everyone sees him as responsible and reliable—what really matters to him, is that you see it, too. has no problem with you being independent, but he definitely feels a healthy surge of pride at the prospect of being able to facilitate things for you. having you depend on him, or at the very least having you know you can depend on him for anything, is so important to him. no task is too grueling, and babying you is a partner privilege i can't see him not indulging in. the members definitely call him out for it if it ever happens in front of them, but he could not care less.

if your car needs an oil change, he'll go get it done while you're taking a nap so you don't have to worry about it later. if he notices any laundry piling up throughout the week, he'll do it while you run an errand so that you have one less thing to do when you get home. if you want to redecorate or renovate something, he's invested in your ideas, learning how build complicated furniture and polish floor tiles—anything it takes he'll do, as long as it means he can make you happy. very much an 'acts of service' kind of guy.

⋆ seungcheol, who calls everyday to check-in.

it might seem like it's the bare minimum, but when he works the job that he does and is as busy as he is, knowing that he puts time aside to call you throughout the day is so, so meaningful. especially when he's in a different time zone, staying up late into the night or getting before the sun so that he can wish you a good morning/night. always asks if you've eaten, what you're planning to do that day, etc. and he'll talk to you until he's confident that you don't feel neglected in any way. you're never a second thought to him, and he wants to make sure you feel like he's dedicating time and attention to you, even when he's not physically there to do so.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo

⋆ wonwoo, who replaces all of your favorite things the moment they run out.

the level of attention to detail he has for things involving you is both concerning and extremely endearing. he's so attentive to you and remembers all of the things you like and dislike. at the start of your relationship, it was pretty subtle: keeping your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up at his apartment for when you came over or buying a few pairs of shorts or sweats (since you’re obviously wearing his shirts) for when you’d stay the night. keeps them neatly folded in a drawer for you to wear on days need to cover up a bit more, like if Mingyu is around.

eventually, this evolves into restocking your favorite shampoo and conditioner when he's showered at yours and noticed you're out. same goes for your favorite perfume that's running low, and other house-hold things like your detergent or your favorite candle.

always makes sure you're taken care of during outings—brings hair ties and little battery-powered fans for hot days, and on cold winter days, opens his jacket so you can hug his waist and he can wrap it around you, swaying the two of you side to side. presses his cheek against yours to warm it up or kisses the icy tip of your nose.

⋆ wonwoo, whose love language is ambiguous

not only is he receptive to any love language you may have, he is somehow amazing at giving you all five (regardless of which one is your actual favorite).

gift giving? the most thought-through, special gifts for his special girl, as frequent as he deems necessary, too, because you deserve nothing less. quality time? one of his favorite things is sitting with you in a comfortable silence, making occasional jokes and comments to get you to crack a grin. a smile is his favorite look on you. acts of service? waters your plants, cooks for you, cleans or organizes things just how you like them so that you're at your most comfortable, massages your shoulders and feet after long days, runs warm, scented baths—you name it, he does it. physical touch? scoops you into his lap because he's obsessed with how warm you are, and the way your weight feels on him is so, so infatuating. likes leaving light and airy kisses on your cheek or pressing his lips into the crook of your neck. all of his kisses take your breath away, but the ones on your shoulder where he mumbles soft confessions of love are particularly awe-spiring. words of affirmation? don't be fooled by his quietness—he always has something he's eager to say to you, and if it's to pay you a compliment, there is no restriction to his words. loves telling you just how happy you make him, how pretty you are, how you're his safety-net and his soulmate and all of his favorite things put in one.

⋆ wonwoo, who sets aside time for you

you'd never have to ask him to put a book down or hop off a game. the moment you appear, he's putting everything aside to greet you and hold you and ask how you've been. if you're upset or sad, he'll glue himself to your side until you feel better. he seems like the type of person who feels very deeply for the people he cares about, so it's extremely important to him that you are always feeling your best, for his sake and yours. listens so deeply to your concerns and complaints for any matter—whether it's in an argument and you're sharing your views, or after a bad day at work where you ramble and rant about what went wrong.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu

⋆ mingyu, who is impatient when it comes to you

he's understanding of the fact that the two of you cannot always be together, considering his career and the fact that you're also busy at times; regardless, he has an inability to be away from you for longer than a few hours. it’s endearing, his neediness showing in the form of longing text messages or voice notes where he whines and mumbles, “what are you doing? i miss youuuu,”

his impatience is also evident in person, like how he runs up to the door when he hears your keys jingling because he's that eager to greet you. most of the time if he's cooking or tasting something, you end up tasting the food on his lips because he's never patient enough to wait until he swallows a bite of food before he kisses you.

⋆ mingyu, who is so gentle and thoughtful with you

loves pampering you, whether its by scrubbing your shampoo into your scalp as he sits behind you in a hot bath, or getting up before you to bring you breakfast in bed. most of the time, showering together isn't even sexual; he'll hold you close and mumble soft compliments or talk about his day, wrap you in a towel when you get out, dry your hair for you, apply lotion, whatever your regular routine is— and he truly enjoys every part of it. if he comes home after you've fallen asleep, he'll make sure your phone is plugged in and any alarms you may need are on. finishes any tasks around the house you may have forgotten to do prior to your slumber, like folding clothes you left in the dryer or washing any dishes in the sink.

treats you as if you were made of glass, covering the corners of tables when you walk by or holding your hand while you cross the street. pouts while he takes care of you if you're sick or injured, cooing and bandaging your cuts and scrapes or insisting you take your medicine around the clock and rest (perhaps even excessively... you could have seasonal allergies, and he'll still scold you for wanting to get out of bed).

⋆ mingyu, who dedicates a section of his phone to you

loves candid pictures and loves your face. simple.

there's a hidden photo album on his phone with all the pictures he has of you and with you and there are various playlists dedicated to you, too. any song that reminds him of you is on a playlist with a cheesy name. another playlist consist of songs he knows you like or even thinks you might like. plays these for you on drives where his hand clutches yours and the windows are down.

if you're an individual who gets their period, he has your period tracker on his phone so he can plan accordingly and make sure he's extra sweet to you around that time. has recipes you like/he wants to make for you set aside in a pinterest board or bookmarked on his search page. also keeps your favorite shopping apps with the cart full of things you mentioned so he can get them for you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon

⋆ vernon, who can't watch shows without you

there's certain tv shows that he completely avoids unless you're there to watch them with him. even if the guys beg him to watch it, he'll refuse and lock himself in his room so there's no chance it might be spoiled. when he's with you though? a few nights of the week, the two of you sit down with snacks and sugary drinks to watch your favorite series together like an old married couple watching their nightly programs.

loves when you you curl up in his lap, both of you wrapped under one blanket with your head resting on his shoulder and his arms circled around you. his gasps and laughs and overall reactions are so loud by your ear but it's adorable and it's such a domestic and comfortable experience. it feels very familiar, and more often than not, both of you prefer this to going out.

⋆ vernon, who rests the best when he's around you

needs his afternoon naps, but specifically, he needs them with you. limbs tangled and light conversation before you drift off that just becomes slurred, pointless babbling. quiet snores and soft breaths take over as the early afternoon hours go by. just the warmth of having you near makes his heart so happy and his rest so fulfilling, especially before practice or after long hours of travelling.

it's a treat to wake up beside him after these catnaps, too. the sleepy features and tousled hair are so very boyfriend, and the way he looks at you when his eyes peek open is so cute.

⋆ vernon, who always tries new things with you

a yes man, any time, all of the time. whether you ask to go on a grocery run at two in the morning or a hike at dawn, he's saying yes. whenever you want to try something new, vernon is your partner in crime and your greatest alliance. he's not only your boyfriend, but your best friend, and it makes everything so fun. always puts a smile on your face, too. he's so goofy and easy going that it's difficult to not feel great around him.

enthusiastic and supportive when you wanna try new hobbies. always asks so many questions so you know he's interested and invested, and will get you any tools or resources you need to excel. trying new foods and restaurants is also high up on the list of things the two of you like to do. he might like keeping a little list of your favorite spots so he can find similar ones to try with you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

#svt scenarios #seventeen #wonwoo #mingyu #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt #svt imagines #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen imagines #seventeen icons #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #vernon #svt vernon #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #svt icons

[whispersoftheton]

This idea has been on my mind for a while… Anthony seeing you in the bridgerton blues for the first time, can either be smut or fluff :) thanks

Ahhhh I love this so much, thank you for sending it in! :)

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, smut, p in v

Word Count: 1.2K

The family gathered around the room on another sweltering summer day. Hyacinth and Gregory bickered over yet another sworn tie in their endless chess matches while Eloise quietly read her book in the opposite corner. Anthony sat between his brothers, Benedict telling him of his endless tales from class among the unspoken soirees he discreetly attended from time to time and Colin of his many travels. Anthony found himself growing bored, awaiting your arrival. You were to accompany him and the rest of the Bridgertons to the races this afternoon, as it would be your first outing as a family since your marriage to the Viscount. And he could not bear to listen to another one of Benedict's tales for one more second; he needed to see you.

"Mother." Anthony stood hurriedly from the gold-trimmed sofa to approach Lady Bridgerton as she entered the room. "Where is she?"

"Now, calm down, Anthony; she is nearly ready." Lady Birdgerton assured him while straightening out his neckline to perfection. She knew Anthony's antics well enough by now to understand his growing impatience was only a product of his theatrics.

"I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity. Surely she must-" Anthony made his way past his mother and into the hallway, his words stammered as soon as his eyes landed on you. You'd been making your way to the main room when he appeared in your path, a smile gracing both your lips. There was no word in the English language to describe how beautiful you looked. The most impeccable dress draped over every curve in a more delicate shade of blue than he wore but complimented his outerwear perfectly. Warmth blossomed in Anthony’s chest at the sight of you in that color. His color. He never thought he'd see the day when the one he loved, the one his heart eternally yearned for, would wear the color that meant so much to him and his family. He would never tire of how easily you overpowered him whenever he was in your presence.

"Do I look alright?" You nervously patted your skirt, ensuring everything was as it should be. Hesitation apparent in your tone as you approached him.

"Alright?" Anthony's eyes widened as he took your hands in his. He couldn't believe you would use a modest word such as 'alright' to describe how exquisite you looked right now. "My love, you look…absolutely stunning. Beyond words, truly." Heat filled your face, and your stomach fluttered at his flattery. Anthony had a way of making you feel as though you two were the only person on the face of the earth, easily melting under his gaze. It was an exquisite feeling you wished to relish in forever. Anthony glanced around and took advantage of the privacy to steal a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against your own. They parted slightly, allowing you to move more passionately as your hunger for one another became apparent in mere seconds. It shouldn't be surprising, seeing as you and your husband could hardly keep your hands off each other since your wedding night. The moment grew heated with every swipe of his tongue, hands caressing the soft flesh of your waist and hips hidden beneath the restricting fabric of your dress.

"Mother!" Anthony reluctantly pulled away, panting, and shouted. "Go ahead without us. We will join you shortly, as promised." Without so much as a second thought or a response from anyone, he whisked you away toward a nearby closet in a closed-off hallway he was sure no one wandered by.

"Anthony, what are you doing? The races are starting soon." You protested before he cut you off with another chaste kiss and shut the door behind him.

"We will join them in a moment. I must have you right now." The passion flowed through his words, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and a chuckle escape you. He pulled you close, continuing his ministrations. His lips scattered kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Your dress was bunched up toward you as Anthony hastily removed his trousers just to his upper thigh. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

"Seeing you in our family color," Anthony spoke between kisses. "You are so beautiful." He was rambling as he often did when he was this worked up. The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every beautiful sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now. Anthony abruptly lifted and pressed you against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic groan from his chest.

"Anthony, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his cock prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as the tip slid over your sensitive clit. He lined himself up and pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison, and he waited, letting you settle as you nodded for him to move. Anthony began to plunge into you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he bottomed out inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him as low whimpers escaped you.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Anthony craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even being inside you now, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already aching for attention. Your bodies rocked in sync with one another, desperate for relief. Anthony felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed on his cock, pulling Anthony to spill himself inside of you.

Anthony pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. He made sure you were settled on the ground and took the time to adjust himself. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before opening the door to confirm no one was outside and stepping out of the closet. You may have missed the race's first leg, but with the knowing smirks and blissed-out looks on both your faces, it was well worth it.

Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 (let me know if you would like to added here or dm me if you’d like to be removed)

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton angst #bridgerton netflix #lady bridgerton #viscount bridgerton

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo's reaction to his s/o, who has the ability to perceive the future, getting harassed because her client's not happy about their future?

Satoru hummed a happy little tune as he walked down the busy streets of Tokyo to go see his wife.

He had been blessed with an unusual day off after a quick meeting with the ‘old men’; probably because they were so annoyed with him that they just wanted him to go away. Still, it was a rare treat. So he thought he would surprise his wife by taking her to lunch. She could afford to close the shop for a day.

The sorcerer giggled a little as he wondered if she knew he was coming. With her innate ability to see and predict the future, it was hard to pull surprises on her. But he always tried. Taking the challenge on at every turn to keep his wife guessing and marriage spicy.

“That’s not right! You’re a liar!!”

Satoru’s eyebrows jutted up over his sunglasses, hearing the yelling once he had come in the door. He walked in further to the shop towards the back, where [Y/N] would hold private readings, and saw a woman who had clearly just jumped up from the table and was pointing at [Y/N].

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the angry looking woman, “but that’s what I see.”

“No! That’s not true! He promised he would leave his wife and be with me! That has to be what my future will be next year!”

“I mean….there’s a possibility that the prediction could change. The future isn’t set in stone but-“No buts! I want my money back!”

“I can’t give you your money back just because you don’t like your prediction. This is a business. If you wanted someone to just agree with you, then you should have just called a friend.”

“They told me to come here! I see now that they just wanted me to get cheated too! You’re nothing but a liar and a con artist! I know my future and it’s to be with him, and you’re just making this up because you’re alone & jealous!”

“If you knew your future, then why did you even come here? Clearly there’s some underlying trust issues if you asked your friends, I assume family, and now a premonitions expert. This is just free advice at this point but maybe this relationship isn’t what you want for you’re future.”

The woman went full red at this point and raised her hand to presumably strike [Y/N]. She never got the chance though as Satoru grabbed her forearm to stop it just as soon as it was raised. “Now, now. Let’s have none of that.”

The woman looked startled and jerked out of his grasp and away from him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Just a concerned customer.” He replied with a cheeky grin, which he could see that [Y/N] did not appreciate out of the corner of her eye. “And also, her husband.”

The woman’s face went from shocked, to a mixture of crushed, back to angry. Clearly realizing that the only person alone in the room was her, but not yet willing to accept it. “I want my money back! Or I’ll sue!”

“Go ahead.” Satoru told her. Then pressed his fingers to his temple, “but I see an arrested in your future if you keep pressing this. Attempted battery is almost just as serious as if you actually landed that punch.” The woman let out an angry huff, then grabbed her belongings and dashed out. “Another satisfied customer.”

“Don’t be mean Satoru.” [Y/N] replied once they were alone and stood up to clean the mess the woman had made of her reading table. “It’s not my fault she’s chosen a hard path. I didn’t even have to use my ability to tell her this wasn’t going to end well. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. Delusional people like that only want to hear what they want to hear.” No one needed psychic abilities to see that.

“What are you doing here by the way?”

“Oh! I came to take you to lunch!” In the commotion, he almost forgot why he was there. “The old men gave me the day off, so I thought I would spend it with you.”

“That’s nice.” [Y/N] said with a smile. “But I have to work Satoru.”

“Why?” He asked with a pout. “You know we don’t need the money. I know you like to work but….you can take off for one day. Plus, shouldn’t you get hazard time for almost having a client flip a table on you?”

[Y/N] chuckled a little. Even if it was a sad sort of noise. “Well…I guess you’re right. The shop will be fine if we close early for today.”

“Hooray!”

Satoru helped her clean up the last little bit and they left. He asked her once, when they were dating, to use her powers on him but she said that she couldn’t. His future had too many variables. Too full of potential. But he knew, even when they first met, that his future was going to be with her.

He didn’t need psychic abilities to see that.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #female reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[hintsofhoney]

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you. 

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least. 

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you. 

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?” 

“Dean!” 

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later. 

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.” 

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.” 

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods. 

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. 

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust. 

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap. 

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage. 

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.” 

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time. 

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night). 

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain. 

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion). 

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile. 

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter. 

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now. 

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside. 

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face. 

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.” 

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now. 

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head. 

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

[simp999]

Medic x Reader - The Red Means I Love You

Wc: 2.7k

Themes: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort(reader was feeling down beforehand)

A/N: I really haven't been writing huh,, sorry about that, guys!! I've been real busy with work n' other stuff- but I promise I still love seeing your ideas! I can't promise I'll get to them, but I still enjoy seeing them :3

Taglist: @electro-omen @skeleton-stomper-xoxo @moopy-milk @pillow-14 @emotionallyunwellmedic

Masterlist

Optional Playlist!!:

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not again.

It's always that damned static that manages to hum itself back into your ears; almost romantically. The idea sounds so beautifully comforting; lovingly pulling you away from reality, holding you in a close embrace.

It sounds so much nicer in thought than in practice.

But as much as you can't help but zone in and out, every sound around you feels so loud yet hushed at the same time. The buzzing of the lights, the crickets outside, at one point you think you may have heard someone walk past your room to go to the kitchen, but it was just one sound among many.

You sat alone in your bed, staring blankly ahead. You couldn't make out what you were staring at, nor did you care. - It was all just a blurry mess.

But you needed a distraction. You knew that if you were to be left alone it would only get worse.

And suddenly, you were standing in front of Medic's lab. You didn't remember the slow journey there. Maybe you've walked the path so many times that you went on autopilot? That doesn't matter right now.

You can hear footsteps from inside, and a soft, muffled voice. You can't quite make out the words, but with his tone, you can assume that he's talking with his birds.

You reach out for the door handle, hesitating. Did you really need to go bug him? You'll get over it, you're sure.

What exactly is it that your body needed? You shuffled through a short list of things. You ate earlier, drank water, you got an... okay amount of sleep. Well, more than usual- which is a start.

You just needed to be in someone's presence, you think.

But not just anyone, you're sure that someone like Scout would be too energetic, and Soldier would be too loud.

You always end up right back here, don't you? Maybe it's because you feel comfortable around him? You couldn't be too sure.

You lightly shake your head, your vision continuing to stay just a bit more blurry than usual. With the blurred shapes that you know spell "laboratory" in front of you, you finally crack the door open a smidge. Then some more.

Medic was standing in front of his doves, holding his bloody finger up to Archimedes. You're assuming he'd just given him a piece of meat or maybe he was petting him. In the middle of the action, Medic tilts his head your way, opening his mouth for a greeting-but deciding against it when he does a quick once-over of your tired form. Though, a gentle smile does make its way on his face.

You slowly hobble over to an empty counter, ignoring the chair stacked with a lab coat and papers, hopping up on said countertop. You stare ahead at the body on Medic's operating table. You haphazardly analysed it. It sat lifeless, it seems it'd been that way for a while now. Well, at least you knew you and him were truly alone.

You leaned back, letting your arms hold you up. Medic silently went back to his spot beside the corpse, picking up a scalpel with a soft smile. He began to hum. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find it comforting. The buzzing of the lights surely didn't leave, but they felt less overbearing. It was also late, and Medic rarely had all of the lights on at this time, only keeping the one main one he needed for seeing the corpse with.

He could tell something was up, but he didn't want to pry- though it was nagging at him. Perhaps Archimedes could tell, or maybe it was pure luck- or maybe Archimedes saw you as someone to care for too. Soon enough he was carefully flying towards you, gently landing on your shoulder and rubbing his head up against your cheek. It became tough to hold back a small smile, and you relaxed your shoulders. You gently brought up a knuckle to very carefully pet him with. Along with whispering little nothings- most of which Medic couldn't make out, only sometimes hearing his own name.

He couldn't help but admire the sight before him. It's a good thing that the corpse in front of him was indeed just that- a corpse- or else dropping the scalpel in it probably wouldn't have been too good.

"..Hey,"

He snaps back to reality, his face warming up just a bit at how you caught him dazed- one could even say with a somewhat lovestruck expression. You weren't about to point that out though, were you?

"Why'd you stop humming?"

He.. he was humming? No- well, yes he does tend to do that a lot while working to busy himself, but you noticed? His eyes widened a bit. It's not exactly a conscious thing he does- and it doesn't help that now that he's put on the spot he can't quite come up with anything to hum.

So, he carefully sets down whatever tool he was holding and quietly makes his way over to the music player. You recognized the first song as "Bust Your Kneecaps". You giggled at how fitting it seemed to suit him. The song was so calming but morbid at the same time. He carefully adjusts the volume and begins to sway his hips as he once again as he works on the corpse in front of him. The music player sounds a bit staticky, but the music was still enjoyable.

And now it was your turn to admire him.

He sure was skilled at what he did. Even with music playing and him obviously focused on the sounds surrounding him, he nonchalantly makes such precise and careful incisions. The soft smile on his face, and the way his hair was a bit messier than usual- a given after a long day of battles. You caught the way he'd absentmindedly twirl the scalpel between his fingers before deciding where to place his next incision. The blood coating his gloves glistened,- hey, that's odd, he very rarely wore his gloves while working. May he knew you'd-? No, no, you doubted it.

You noticed the way he had a small pep in his step whenever he had to walk around- it seems his boots may be newly polished, too. His voice when he hummed or softly sang any lyrics was always so comforting too. So much so that you'd absentmindedly join in on the humming at times if you knew the song.

Which is what happened. You only noticed that your soft hums could be heard as well when you caught the way his smile grew and he glanced over at you with hope in his eyes. It was always reassuring to him when you'd slowly warm back up in the subtlest of ways. Of course he knew when you weren't doing too well, and he was always glad to help you out. Honoured, even. It made his heart warm knowing that he was your go-to person to feel comfortable and safe again, even if it just meant being in the same room as him.

It means you willingly trust him. Yes of course, people trust him with their wounds in life or death situations- but they have no choice. Yet you come to him for the most mundane of things.

He must admit, he might be catching feelings.

And there wasn't any major event that caused him to realise this- no. Actually, it was something quite small that you'd done many times before.

This must've been roughly a month ago now; he was sat at his desk, his pencil going back and forth over some paperwork at ungodly hours of the morning. Everyone at the base should have been asleep, but he should have known better as mercenaries. None of you were normal- but you all still needed rest.

Which is why he was surprised when he heard soft footsteps slowly approach him. He recognized them, of course- had he not, he would have been reaching for his bonesaw.

Your presence alone relaxed him. But then he remembered how late it was, and was about the question you on why you might be up at this hour- damn hypocrite.

But before he could, there was a small plate with snacks being placed beside his paperwork, and a hand giving his closest shoulder a small, absentminded massage.

Then, you stood behind him, slowly snaked your arms around his shoulders and slowly leaned against him- almost all of your weight. You rested your chin on top of his head and you hadn't said a word.

This meant two things: one, that you had finally accepted that you simply couldn't tell him to get to bed because it would never work, to which you had adapted. Second, you were up at this ungodly time, and the first thing on your mind was taking care of him.

The thought of asking you why you were up at this hour left his mind, instead opting to let you watch whatever he was working on. Well, as much as you could with your eyes half-lidded, sometimes closing on you.

Every so often, he'd grab a piece of the snack you had brought him. One time, he brought a piece to your lips, and you lazily ate it with a hum. From that point on, he'd eat a piece, then offer you one. Then, because he was so entranced in his work, he had forgotten about the snack. Until you gently brought a piece in front of his mouth, still wanting to take care of him.

"...You don't have to do this, you know."

You gently shook your head, leaning a bit more on him and giving him a gentle squeeze, which was enough of an answer.

And yes, he did notice the way you'd begin to lose your balance due to how tired you were. He himself would lean just enough to keep you upright when he could tell you were beginning to doze off.

That was the first night you managed to get him to go to sleep early- and that was without a single word spoken by you.

That was the night he learned he may have feelings for you. He felt a growing urge to care for you; in subtle and non-subtle ways. Of course- the mercs could tell that he'd slowly become more of a pocket Medic, that much was obvious. But he'd also watch out for you in ways he knew how to. He'd make sure to give you a proper dose of anaesthesia, always be gentle when he did anything involving you, clean his lab and equipment thoroughly before even thinking about using any on you. He never thought too much of it, either.

You began living in his presence more often too, and he appreciated it so very much- he'd never brought it up, but he did care. There were a few times where you'd swing by and he'd offered you a snack; or if you were cold, he'd offer you his labcoat.

Then he realised that he became happy when you were happy.

He never thought of himself as an empath- far from it, really. But suddenly when your mood was down, he'd find himself alone in his lab, doing what he always does. It felt like he was on autopilot, and he felt dull. But when your mood was better and you were more excitable- or even simply happier overall, he'd hum more often, and he wouldn't notice the smile that seemed to constantly spread across his lips, nor the pep in his step.

Which brings us to the present moment. You two humming along to the song. It slowly drowned out, and a new song came on, You recognized it as: "The Red Means I Love you."

Medic's lips curled up a bit, and you gently kicked your feet, his seemingly happy mood becoming contagious. You were still somewhat zoned out, now accidentally staring off into space, which just so happened to be his boots this time. And suddenly, they were right in front of you, along with an open hand blocking the view- hey, when did he remove his glove? It just have been just now, as it wasn't bloody.

You looked up to him and recognized the expectant gaze he sent your way. That warm smile on his face was what convinced you to take his hand, and he carefully guided you around with small steps.

He hummed as he gently placed a hand on the small of your back, and held your hand in his as if it were made of glass.

Once you two began moving a little quicker, he began to sing. He started out in a very quiet tone as to not startle you;

"'Cause my insides are red,

And yours are too.

And the red on my face

Is matching you~"

The two of you continued to sway along to the music, slowly becoming more comfortable, but keeping the volume low. The two of you were tired but content. Then, the reoccurring line in the song came up, and the two of you sang it together in hushed voices;

"The red means I love you~"

You couldn't help the small smile that slowly played on your lips, his was contagious. He offered you a wide grin when he noticed you looking up at him, but it quickly went back to a small, calm, and reassuring one once your eyes were elsewhere. One could even say lovestruck. Paired with a gaze that was admiring every part of you, simply glad to be right there, right now, with you. He'd take lives to be able to do this at any given time- there was nothing more perfect to him than this.

You looked so perfect to him in this very moment. Even the dishevelled hair, darkened eye bags, and slumped shoulders were to be admired. Any imperfections of your skin he found absolutely stunning- they made you unique. But with his background, he's pretty sure that telling you you had fascinating skin wouldn't come off the way he'd hoped- so he'd keep that to himself.

He longed to gently card his fingers through your messy hair, run his finger from your hair to behind your ear, along your jaw and finally tilt your chin up and admire your eyes with the warmest, most loving smile he's ever worn. To pull you a bit closer with the hand that was still resting against the small of your back, with barely any force to be noticeable.

And then he'd lean down, analyse your face for whatever emotions you may be feeling and go from there.

Now, he wasn't a shy man.

So that's what he did.

And that's where the two of you now stand.

After analysing your emotions, checking for any sort of discomfort- he tilted your chin up just enough for you and him to meet halfway.

It was a small kiss- short, sweet and loving. It could even be considered a small peck. There was nothing more to be added, enough was said- even if the only words spoken aloud tonight were mostly just lyrics.

You stood a little stunned, but that was only because you weren't quite ready to fully comprehend what had just happened.

Medic on the other hand was already pulling you into a gentle hug that had the both of you calmly swaying back and forth as he played with your hair. He gave you a small kiss on the crown of your head as you finally relaxed into him, and allowed your hands to rest on his back. Barely audible, he muttered;

"I love you, liebchen."

A gentle squeeze was offered that reassured him that you felt the same way, and you could feel his smile widen before opting to rest his chin on your head, and gently rest his hand on the back of your neck, caressing the base of it with his thumb as the two of you continued to sway together.

He looked forward to more nights like this. Nothing extravagant, just you and him, comfortable in eachother's loving presence.

.

.

.

Nov.10.23

#tf2 #tf2 x reader #medic x reader #team fortress #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 x you #tf2 medic x reader #team fortress medic x reader #tf2 medic onesot #team fortress medic #tf2 medic #team fortress fanfic #fanfic #medic #team fortress 2 x you #team fortress x you #medic x you #tf2 medic x you #x reader #Spotify

[ghostchems]

a grave date - preview! mary goore x female!reader

a/n: been thinkin on this for a while and finally am writing it. this will be multiple "parts" but all will be posted together as one complete fic. stay tuned! :D

one

One of your New Year’s resolutions is to “embrace the spooky”. You are regretting it now that you’ve decided to take a shortcut through the local graveyard on your way home. The cool air pricks your cheeks, the temperature having dropped drastically once the sun went down. Your hands are shoved deep into your sweatshirt pocket and you keep your eyes on the path in front of you. Another one of your resolutions is to make more time for friends, which is why you’re walking through the graveyard in the first place. One of your closest friends lives within walking distance of your apartment but you’ve barely seen each other over the last year due to busy schedules and lack of effort. Not anymore, though! You’re being social and remembering how much fun it can be to catch up with friends and do activities.

You’ve been a bit of a shut-in — but at the moment, you can’t wait to be back home. Fog clings to the trees and obelisks, dim lights spaced out along your path barely fighting off the dark. There are some urban legends, some completely made up but some based on historical true crime. About fifty odd years ago, a woman was here visiting the grave of her mother and ended up sadly being murdered as she mourned. People talk of sightings, calling her Mother’s Ghost, but that is just a load of local gossip, right?

Right?

“Evenin’! Are ya lost?” You’re just about to spiral when he calls out to you, a lanky arm in the air to catch your attention as you slow your walk to a stop, eyes focusing on him. Oh, lord. He sounded cheerful, polite but your eyes land on his face covered in blood, throwing several red flags up in your brain. You sputter, blinking to make sure what you’re seeing is real.

“I’m trying to get to Hitchcock Ave.” Finally, the words come out in one quick breath. The man comes closer, the faint light allowing you to see him more clearly. He’s lanky, has long legs and skinny arms complete with a sleeveless, ripped t-shirt.

“Ah, you’re already on the right track.” He’s standing about an arms length of you now, scratching the back of his head. You should be afraid of this man but there’s something about his demeanor and the kindness in his voices make you decide to at least hear what he has to say. “If you go a lil’ bit further down the path til’ you reach the crypts and then make a left, the Hitchcock entrance is straight ahead.” He gives you direct eye contact with his cool green eyes while also using his hand to point along with his directions. You don’t say anything, silently digesting his words. His eyes roam your features and his full lips start to tug into a small grin. He lifts his hands up in surrender. “Promise I’m tellin’ the truth. If you have any trouble, you come right back here and I’ll bend over so you can kick my ass.”

You snort. You can’t help it! In no way were you expecting him to say that.

“Alright, alright. Thank you.” You smile at him and his grin only grows. He waves you off as you continue down the path. There are a few times you look back to see him lingering in the same spot, seeing you off at least until you reach the crypts. Who the hell is he? Was he just hanging out in the cemetery? Is he a ghost? You follow his directions and end up right on Hitchcock like he said and something about him helping you out makes your heart flutter.

Still, a strange feeling comes over you for the rest of your walk home.

#mary goore x reader #mary goore x female reader #mary goore #repugnant #repugnant fic #mary goore fic

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 20 - Lavender 3

So. I know in my vote post. I mentioned that it probably won't have any Mihawk/Shanks. HOWEVER! My ass went and had to read some MiShanks stuff and now I can't get them out of my head. But I also do not want to leave Peppermint Tea behind because I love my little islander and her snowy devil fruit.

Anyways! I hope you enjoy the direction that I've chosen to go! I promise this will have a happy ending!

Warnings! Drinking! Shanks and Mihawk are mean and their past is peeked into!

Masterlist

A week is all it takes for Mihawk to track Shanks and his crew down. He finds the redhead in the cove of a chain of merchant islands near Sabaody and flairs his haki to get the Emperor’s attention. Shanks jerked his head up from where he’d been dozing in the mid-day sun. He rubs the crust from his eyes and gives the warlord a wide smile in greeting as he approaches.

“Hey, you! Just the guy I wanted to talk to,” Shanks smirks at his old friend, and he pushes himself up, leaning heavily on the tree he’d been dozing under. The warlord looks immaculate as usual, and Shanks doesn’t hide the way he casts his eyes over his bare chest.

Mihawk comes to a stop a foot away from the other man, far closer than he would usually deem to get nowadays. Dracule narrows his eyes at the other man, mood already soured.

“If you weren’t such a drunk buffoon, I would suggest a duel, if only so I could kick your ass,” Drcaule sneers at the redhead. The Emporer looks tired and hungover, not an unusual sight, though at least Shanks seemed sober enough to pay attention. It’s more of a struggle than it should be for him to keep his stance relaxed and nonchalant. Shanks knew more than anyone on the Grand Line how to push Mihawk’s buttons.

“Ohh, now you want to fight? You know I’d win, right?” Shanks sways straight, feet planted as his hand lands on the hilt of Griffon. The tension in the air skyrockets, getting the attention of the rest of the crew that lazes around.

The two of them had not fought since Shanks lost his arm, so having the Hawk's attention on him was riveting. He grins at Dracule, his own haki flaring in response to Mihawk's that is still raging at the redhead.

Beckman takes one look at the two men and rounds everyone up, directing them back to the Red Force. Who knew what was about to happen, and the first mate would rather not have any possible casualties if Mihawk and Shanks decided to actually duke it out.

Mihawk takes a half step forward, not backing down from the challenge that Shanks presents.

“I would like to see you try,” He sneers. Lip curling as he looks down his nose at the bum. The only thing that is keeping him from making mince meat of the younger man is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounds oddly like you, telling him how bad of an idea it would be to cause a scene. His snow angel surely wouldn’t be happy with him.

The two powerful men eye each other for a while, ready for the other to make the first move. Shanks sighs and removes his hand from his sword, shifting to gesture at the port town down the beach.

“How about we act like adults and go have a drink? My treat?” Shanks suggests, and Dracule huffs at him but dips his head in agreement. He follows Shanks back into town and to the first bar they come across. They order, and Dracule picks a table in the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Shanks pays like he agrees, and Mihawk takes that as a win.

“This is about that treasure, huh?” Shanks starts after taking a deep pull of his ale, “I just want to go ahead and let you know that you can’t make me stay away. She said that we’re more than welcome to come by her island.”

Dracule could strangle the smug prick across from him. Shanks speaks nothing but the truth, but Mihawk can’t help but bare his teeth in a silent snarl at the redhead’s self-satisfied tone, acting like he had already won whatever argument that had yet to be had. He hadn’t expected Shanks to bestow you with such a familiar nickname, and the older man doesn’t know how he feels about it right now.

“I’m not here to warn you to stay away from the island, Shanks,” Mihawk clears his expression back to one of uninterest and shelves the earlier thought for later. The Emperor can see the displeasure lurking in Dracule’s ringed eyes despite his best efforts, “I’m here to tell you to stay away from,_.”

“I found her first, she is mine, and I am not going to let you of all people ruin the relationship I have with them,” Dracule continues, tone deadly and not booking any kind of room for argument. He sips his wine, finding it subpar, “That girl is worth more to me than any treasure in this miserable world.”

Shanks watches his old friend. He commends the usually monotone man for speaking about his feelings, but the redhead has a stubborn streak bigger than an island, “We’re pirates, Hawkeye. I don’t think I should have to remind you what we do with treasure.”

He lets the threat linger in the air, the tension borderline suffocating, before Shanks breaks it by sipping from his mug once more, “Anyone else I wouldn’t have any kind of reservations about taking what I want, but we’ve been rivals for a long time, and we’ve known each other for even longer Mihawk. What’s one more thing for us to scuffle over?”

“_ is not some kind of prize to be won,” Dracule grumbles, anger leaking over as his hand tightens around his glass. He must consciously think about loosening his grip, or else he would have sent wine and glass exploding everywhere, “And if she were, I have already won.”

Shanks purses his lips and sits back in his seat, amused at having gotten such a rise out of Hawkeye. He wasn’t about to give up, though, but also wouldn’t go behind the warlord’s back. He had too much respect for the other man. He sips his ale and then sets the tankard away.

“You can't be there all the time, Mihawk,” Shanks points out quietly, and his tone has shifted, more to one of careful understanding, “Your duties as a warlord pull you away from her, don't they? Leaving her vulnerable and alone for longer stretches of time than you like.”

Dracule says nothing even as Shanks lays his greatest fears on the table for all to see. The redhead isn't wrong, and just admitting that rankles the warlord in the worst of ways. However, Mihawk wasn't above putting your safety above everything else in his life. There would only be so much he and perhaps Perona could do if Big Mom somehow found out that you still lived.

“Do you know who she is? Her connections?” Mihawks asks the redhead and gets his answer when a dark expression crosses Shanks’ face, “And my involvement?”

“I knew the moment she introduced herself. Is that your reason for wanting her, Mihawk? Are you trying to atone for your sins?” Shanks sends the other man a mean grin, and Dracule matches the look with a glare of his own. Shanks can remember the day of your island's destruction and can remember the disappointment he felt when he found out that Dracule had left to help Big Mom. It's mean, and he feels guilty for bringing it up, but Shanks invested himself into your happiness the moment you told him that he and his crew were welcome back to your island.

“I don't have to explain my actions to you,” Mihawk sets his empty glass away, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms over his chest, “Besides, you have no right to judge any of what I do.”

Shanks is an emperor for a reason. He answered to no one, and while he wasn't a monster like Kaido or Big Mom, the redhead had skeletons in his closet like everyone else. He raises his hand in surrender, reluctantly agreeing with Dracule on the subject.

“Does she know about it?” Shanks pressed, and his brows shot up in surprise when the warlord sniffed and looked away from him. Shanks narrows his eyes, disbelief thick in his tone, “You really haven't told her?”

“No, and I have no plans of doing so, either. Why should I bring up painful memories when she doesn't even remember what happened to her?” Dracule draws and crosses his legs like he has done no wrong in the world, “It's best that she never finds out.”

“Oh, that way she can't get upset with you and tell you to leave,” Shanks summarizes and nods like it makes all the sense in the world, but Mihawk can see the tension in his smile and the sarcastic way he slaps his knee, “Smart man, Mihawk, keeping that away from someone you love.”

“I do not love her. She interests me, and we have a mutually beneficial relationship,” Mihawk snaps at the redhead. Panic had swept through him the second Shanks had dropped the L word. Dracule Mihawk loved nothing in this world. He only invested his time into interesting subjects, and you were the most mysterious by far.

Shanks snorts in amusement, eyes rolling skyward at how stubborn his old friend was. This song and dance were familiar, one that Shanks had the displeasure of knowing intimately. The Emperor can't keep the bitter tone out of his voice when he next speaks. Shanks can't help but want to be mean right now.

“Of course you don't,” He hums and sweeps his hand through his hair, leaving the red strands tussled, “Then you shouldn't have any problem with me wanting her, then, right? Since she just interests you.”

An image of Shanks and his angel curled up together in front of the fireplace in his home, you leaning into the bare chest of the redhead as he helps you sip from a shallow bowl of sake. He sees you pulling Shanks in for a kiss, a sweet one full of yearning.

The imagery has Dracule seething with a feeling he hasn't felt in longer than he would care to remember, though any normal person would call it jealousy. He sucks in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes, fighting to control his breathing and his growing annoyance. This insolence that Shanks wears like a second skin has always been able to set Mihawk off. How he once called this man more than a friend, Dracule didn't know.

Shanks smirks, self-satisfied at seeing the other man break even further at his scathing remarks. He thinks that Mihawk deserves it. He also thinks that the other man is a big idiot for not telling you about your past. That information belonged to you. You deserved to know about it.

“You will not touch her, Shanks,” Mihawk repeated, tone laced with finality. He was done with this sham of a conversation. He should have known that Shanks would push on this. The Emperor matched his own stubbornness.

“I won't do anything that _ doesn't want,” Shanks snapped right back, dark eyes narrowed on the other man. Dracule wasn't the only one tired of this back-and-forth. He softened after half a second, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward and rested his upper body on the table between them.

“I'm not trying to take her away from you, Dracule. I want to help you keep her safe, but I'm not doing it for free,” Shanks murmurs, and Mihawk sighs heavily when he feels defeat creeping in. He does not want to admit that Shanks makes nothing but good points. Mihawk may not trust the other pirate, not any longer, but it could have been someone far more ill-mannered than the laid-back Emperor.

“I want you to tell me when you will visit her island. I want your word that this is for her, Shanks. That you are not just doing this to spite me. That you aren’t going to run away from her like you’re known to do” Mihawk demands, and leans forward, voice dropping and becoming deadly, “Swear it to me.”

The warlord is bringing up the past. A gamble, but it gets the younger man’s attention, and Dracule feels a dark satisfaction rip through him when Shanks sits up straight and looks at him in surprise, though hurt swims in his dark eyes.

Mihawk knows how much he is giving in and giving up with this, but your happiness and your safety mean more to him than little else. He would have to contend with Shanks for your attention, and he despises the hurt and anxiety that curdled in his stomach at the thought of you leaving him for the redhead. Shanks was nothing but selfish, a problem that Mihawk knew too well. Dracule didn’t want to have to share you with the other man, but this wasn’t about him. If you wanted Shanks around, then the warlord would not keep him away.

Shanks meets his golden gaze, any trace of humor or teasing attitude gone from his expression, and he offers Dracule his hand. He thinks back to a time before none of this would ever be necessary, a time when he and Mihawk trusted one another explicitly, and the Emperor dearly wishes for that closeness. Shanks wonders if the older man ever wants the same, “I swear that this is for _.”

Dracule eyes the hand that is placed in front of him. An old tension had settled in the back of his mind, one that Mihawk hadn’t felt in well over twenty years when the two of them had been far closer. He feels that tension shimmer between them, and Shanks’ hand is familiar and warm when Mihawk finally takes it.

Shanks curls his hand tight around his old friends, holding on far longer than necessary just to feel the heat of Mihawk’s palm against his own. He grins when he catches sight of the dusting of red on the Hawk’s cheeks when he extracts his hand. While there is still much to hash out between the two of them, the air has settled, and their haki smooths along one another as if greeting an old friend. Shanks leans forward, eyes mischievous, “Let’s have another drink, Hawkeye. My treat.”

Dracule hears that little voice in his head again, though this time it matches the troublesome tone that lingers in Shanks’ voice, but Mihawk finds himself listening to it once again as he leans back in the creaky bench and crosses his legs.

“Get me something better this time.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #opla mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #opla shanks #opla x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla shanks x you #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #mishanks #mihawk x shanks #opla dracule mihawk #peppermint tea

[whatsthethinking]

A Father's Promise

In which Jake gets a harsh reminder that he’s raising sons, not soldiers.

▹Word count: 3.9k

▹Warning: Angst?? Neteyam’s had enough, my boy is tired and he’s acting completely out of character. Mentions of illness and injury, Neteyam says fuck once. Jake feeling guilty.

▹Note: Barely proofread, I wrote this in one go (kinda). Anything in italics is English. No y/n, this is about Sully family dynamics.

Neteyam had never pictured himself in this situation, walking through the forest with only his hunting knife as protection. If any creature was looking for a late-night snack, Neteyam was practically offering himself up but he didn’t care. His head was throbbing, he felt hot, his skin felt clammy and sweat gathering on his hairline. Neteyam let out a shaky breath as he pushed a low-hanging branch from his path. He started to think about how the day progressed which led him to walking aimlessly through the thick forest. Eclipse had come and gone, his only source of light was the glowing plants around him. He had no idea where he was going but turning back and going home wasn’t an option right now, no matter how sick he felt.

– 

Neteyam’s day started somewhat normally. He woke up with Tuk tucked under his arm, he visited his grandmother who had given him something for his slowly growing headache. His grandmother advised him to have an easy day, to not strain himself and get some rest, so that’s what he was going to do. Kind of. 

He returned to his family’s tent and tried to get some more sleep which was proving to now be successful since the smallest noise would make his eyes shoot open, so where was he going to get peace and quiet?

The sky.

So that’s where he went, he saddled his ikran and slowly ascended making sure to stay level and just above the trees. He was having a peaceful flight, taking in the sights, and seeing the different animals making their way through the forest in their families. He saw members of the clan hunting and foraging for food.

The more he flew, the more tired he felt so he decided that it was time for him to head back. Circling back, Neteyam was fighting to keep his eyes open, every blink becoming slower than the one before.

In the distance, Neteyam heard a faint scream but he ignored it, telling himself it was probably some kids playing around. Until he heard it again, much closer.

“Help me!”

Tuk?

Forcing his ikran to dive through the trees, he followed the sounds of his sister's cries for help. 

Once landing high enough in the trees, Neteyam dismounted his companion in his usual manner but his legs shook causing him to almost fall over. He quickly steadied himself, grabbed his bow and ran toward where Tuk was screaming.

He soon spotted his sister gripping onto vines as viperwolves circled below her, waiting for her to fall. Neteyam tried to steady himself as ran across a thick, winding branch. His swift movements grabbed Tuk’s attention almost immediately. 

“Neteyam!” She yelled in relief seeing him getting closer. Neteyam managed to reach his sister just as one of her hands slipped. Breathing heavily, Neteyam pulled Tuk up and onto her feet. Tuk instantly wrapped her arms around his waist in gratitude. Neteyam ran his hand over the back of her head to try and soothe her.

“I tried catching up with Lo’ak but he was going too fast. I wanted to call him but then they started chasing me.”

“Lo’ak was here?” Neteyam questioned her in disbelief. He knew the two siblings had their differences but Lo’ak wouldn’t just leave her to fend for herself.

“No…” Tuk stepped back slightly, her head down looking guilty. “He doesn’t know I followed him.”

With the added commotion, the viperwolves became more alert. Now snarling, the viperwolves started to creep up the base of a neighbouring tree slowly.

Neteyam urged Tuk to run ahead of him back to his ikran. He managed to draw his bow and shoot one of the viperwolves which managed to slow the pack down for a millisecond before they all lunged forward, snapping at the young warrior, barely missing him. The more the pair ran, Neteyam felt himself getting light-headed from all of the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Clumsily, he assisted Tuk over a fallen tree trunk before raising his hand to his throat.

“Mum! Dad! Anyone! I need help! I’m with Tuk and-”

A viperwolf swiped at his feet again, which caused Neteyam to stumble and it sent him and Tuk falling off the tree branch. Neteyam wrapped his arms around his sister to cushion her fall as they hit the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of him for a brief moment.

Tuk scrambled up, trying to pull Neteyam up with her.

“Neteyam! Come on! They’ll find us!”

Neteyam groaned, nodding his head. He slowly stood up, making sure he had his bow. He screwed his eyes shut as his vision momentarily blurred

A lone viperwolf crept forward, trying to sneak up on the pair, Tuk screamed as the viperwolf leapt forward swiping at her, Neteyam swung his bow knocking it away and fired an arrow, killing it instantly.

He spun around as he heard a sob behind him. Tuk stood there with her ears flat against her head and lips in a pout as she held onto her upper arm,  blood seeping through her fingers.

For the first time in his life, the sight of blood made him feel nauseous.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he tried to reassure her, “you’ll be okay.”

Tuk nodded along to her brother's words, looking down at her arm.

“Neteyam?!” Neytiri’s voice cut through the air.

“Mama!” Tuk cried.

Soon after, Neytiri broke through the trees, a panicked look on her face. Jake a second behind.

Neteyam slumped against a tree, finally able to catch his breath.

–

As the family made their way back through the camp, Neteyam could practically see the smoke billowing out of his father’s ears. Neytiri broke away, taking Tuk to the healer’s tent.

When he entered the tent, he spotted Lo’ak standing in the corner, his eyes trained on the group. Immediately telling him that his younger brother had already gotten his scolding.

“Dismissed,” Jake said gruffly, glancing at him quickly.

Lo’ak looked at his brother, a worried look on his face. Neteyam nodded tiredly, telling Lo’ak that it was okay to leave. Lo’ak nodded back before he slowly walked past him, consistently turning back before leaving fully. Neteyam closed his eyes and took a deep breath in preparation for whatever his father was going to say. He felt himself slowly sway to the side. If Jake noticed, he didn’t point it out.

“What the hell happened out there?” Jake questioned, his voice firm.

“I don’t know,” Neteyam whispered.

“You don’t… Know?” Jake asked somewhat sceptically. Neteyam not knowing is practically unheard of.

All Neteyam could do was shake his head while wincing,

“How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Neteyam whispered again, his voice firmer.

“How do you not know? What are you saying? You don’t know how Tuk got out there? You were with her Neteyam.” 

“I know but I only know what Tuk told me,” Neteyam mumbled

“Which was?” 

“She was following Lo’ak without his knowledge and then lost him.”

“So how did she manage to get hurt? She said it got her and then you killed it. How did you not see it coming?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that all you can say? ‘I don’t know’?”

Neither spoke, leaving a lingering silence between them. Jake stepped forward, with his hands on his hips.

“Neteyam. What the hell is going on with you?” Jake started, his voice slightly raising but Neteyam struggled to focus on his father’s lecture, every word felt like it was continuously striking a raw nerve.

“As the older brother, it’s your job to-”

“Why?” Neteyam questioned, cutting his father off, irritation clear in his voice.

“What?” Jake questioned, his voice quieting in confusion. Neteyam had never spoken back or interrupted during a lecture.

“Why is it my job?”

“You’re the older brother and I expect-”

“So being the firstborn means that it’s my job to watch my siblings all the time? If I’m not training that is.” Neteyam rolled his eyes which took Jake by surprise. “That’s not fair, they’re not my children. They’re yours.”

“Netey-.”

“No!” Neteyam exclaimed, “Why is it my job? I am their brother, not their babysitter. Every time they fuck up, why is it my fault? They’re their own people. Lo’ak makes his own decisions trying to match your expectations and Tuk is too damn curious. That’s not my fault! I try so hard and yet it’s my fault?!” 

By now, Neteyam's voice had gotten louder. Jake didn’t know how to react. He had never seen this side of his eldest. He noted the way Neteyam used the palm of his hand to massage his forehead before he paced back and forth a few times. This behaviour is completely foreign, all Jake could do was watch.

Neteyam stopped pacing, facing his father again, wringing his hands together.

“It is not my fault that Tuk followed Lo’ak! It is not my fault that Lo’ak didn’t see her! It is not my fault that she was hurt! I tried my best! She got herself into trouble, she knew the danger and yet she went anyway. It’s not my fault and it’s not Lo’ak’s. It’s Tuk’s! Why not give her the speech on being responsible?!”

By now, Neteyam was waving his hands around wildly. If this was any other time, Neteyam wouldn’t even imagine pushing all the blame on his youngest sister but right now he was fed up. He was tired of getting the blame any time his siblings got themselves into trouble. He just wanted a day to himself but he couldn’t even have that.

“I know, I understand.” Jake said in the softest voice he could muster, “But I need you to take a deep breath and calm down.” 

But his father’s words went over his head, he couldn’t calm down. It was like a flip had switched in his brain and all of his emotions were flooding to the surface.

“Why didn’t you notice that she was no longer in your sight? Huh?! Why can’t you take some blame? I am so sick and tired of taking the blame. I’m tired of getting blamed for every time they mess up. I’m tired of trying to be perfect. I’m tired of trying to reach your impossible standards. Why do I always have to be perfect in your eyes? Why can’t I ever make a mistake? Once. Just once, I wish you would act like an actual father and not just the clan leader. I am your son, not one of your soldiers.”

Neteyam stopped abruptly, facing his father with tears welling in his eyes, “I just want you to see me!”

An awkward atmosphere fell between them, all that could be heard was Neteyam’s heavy breaths. Jake opened his mouth before closing it quickly. Not sure how to react. As he stepped forward to try again, Neytiri marched into the tent, confusion spread across her face.

“Do you want the whole clan to hear you two? What is going on?”

Looking between his parents, Neteyam wiped his eyes angrily, slipping out of the tent. Once he was outside, he started marching towards the forest, on his way, he passed Lo’ak and Kiri but ignored their calls for him. Just as he was to step into the foliage, his father’s voice crackled through his earpiece, demanding he return. With one swift movement, Neteyam ripped off his microphone and took out his earpiece, throwing them both to the floor, not caring where they landed. 

–

The more he walked, the more guilt he felt about his outburst, he had never spoken like that to anyone and he shocked himself by speaking that way to his father, someone he looked up to. Neteyam tried to think of anything and everything to keep his mind off of his throbbing head and the sadness in his chest but nothing seemed to be working. All he felt was guilt.

Coming to an empty clearing, Neteyam looked around him with squinted eyes. Not sure where he was, which was another first for him today. As he stood there, watching the space, his body began to feel heavy.

He swayed slightly, stumbling to stable himself against a nearby tree but he misjudged it, which sent him plummeting to the floor. Closing his eyes, Neteyam felt too exhausted to try and get up.

—

Jake didn’t hesitate to follow after his son but was stopped by Neytiri demanding answers as to why her son was upset. Jake tried to rush his explanation.

“Ma Jake, you need to stop being so hard on him. He’s trying.”

“I know, I know. I’ll get him back. I promise.”

Jake kissed Neytiri’s head, rushing out of the tent in the direction Neteyam went.

Jake walked carefully, tracking Neteyam’s footsteps which wasn’t too hard since after a while, his light footprints turned into deep drag marks.

The deeper he got into the forest, the more worried Jake got. Just watching his outburst concerned him, he had never behaved that way before, none of his kids have. On top of that, from the moment he and Tuk were found in the forest, Jake noticed the way Neteyam tried to support himself on the tree and the way he walked back to the tent like he was not confident on his feet. The way he swayed, the way sweat was gathering on his brow the more upset he got. It was clear that Neyetam was sick and that worried Jake even more.

From what Jake had experienced, the Na’vi rarely got sick. Sickness is mainly seen in young children or in the elders. Jake felt the guilt piling up, he was starting to think that whatever was wrong with Neteyam was from his side. His human side. It was this human side that he knew he had to tap into to sympathise? Empathise? With his son. He had to strip back the many hardened layers that had built up while on Pandora. Strip back his title of being Olo'eyktan, Toruk Makto or being a marine. He had to be the person before that. The caring boy from Earth who felt deeply for others.

“Shit.”

Jake had lost Neteyam’s trail. Had he taken a wrong turn? He stepped into the clearing, eyebrows furrowed. Should he turn back and try again? Looking off to the side, deciding where to go next. Jake spotted a crumpled heap at the base of a tree. Neteyam?

Jake slowly walked over, gripping his tomahawk tightly in his hand, the last thing he wanted to do was sneak up on a sleeping viperwolf or young ​​thanator. 

Jake’s heart started to beat faster once his brain registered that the heap on the ground was not one of Pandora’s predators but his son. He slowly rolled Neteyam onto his back, noting that the boy felt like dead weight, his body not resisting the movement. He could feel Neteyam’s clammy skin under his hands and his breathing was shallow. Jake’s hands frantically hovered over Neteyam’s body, wondering what to do.

“Neteyam?” No response.

Raising a shaky hand to his throat, Jake waited for a crackle in his earpiece. He first got through to Neytiri, explaining Neteyam’s condition to her. At first, Neytiri refused Jake’s suggestion of getting medics at the lab, adamant that Mo’at could cure him but after Jake explained his concerns, Neytiri reluctantly agreed. 

Jake cradled the side of Neteyam’s head once the boy began to respond to his name, trying to get his attention but the boy's eyes were unfocused.

With some difficulty, Jake managed to manoeuvre Neteyam onto his back. Making sure his son’s arms were secure over his shoulders and that Jake’s arms were secure under Neteyam’s knees.

—

Jake dabbed the lukewarm cloth across Neteyam’s forehead, down to his neck. Glancing to the side and out the small window, Jake could see the sun beginning to peek out from behind the high trees. He had been with Neteyam all night, not leaving his side for a second. Jake put the cloth back into the bowl before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His knee began to bounce anxiously. Jake’s head dropped with a deep sigh thinking back to his conversation with Max. 

“These symptoms Jake, they’re quite serious.”

“Do you know what is it? What caused it?”

“From what I can see, his symptoms are showing me that it could be hypoglycaemia, but I’m not sure if Na’vi can get it. I won’t be sure until Neteyam wakes up and tells me how he’s feeling. But whatever this is, must’ve been brewing for a while for it to get to this point. Has he been acting out of character for the past few days? Off his food or hungrier than usual?”

Neytiri gripped her mate's arm anxiously as Jake combed through his memory to see if he could pinpoint anything different about Neteyam’s daily habits. 

“Last night he was tossing and turning in his sleep for a while and he skipped breakfast,” Neytiri started, “my mother told me he visited her, complaining that his head was hurting.”

Max nodded, noting down what he heard. Jake thought back to the day before. He had taken his sons out for target practice. Jake had noted almost immediately that when Neteyam was drawing his bow, his arm was shaking slightly but that wasn’t stopping him from hitting his target. But Jake did take a mental note of it. Jake told this to Max, a solemn expression on his face. “He picked at his dinner last night and barely ate anything.”

How could this happen?

—

Max and Norm had come in to check on Neteyam as the day went on. Max had set up a drip for the teen since he had noticed that he was rather dehydrated. They had brought food for Jake but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Kiri, Lo’ak and little Tuk had joined Neytiri in the afternoon to check on Neteyam. Tuk had been blaming herself for what had happened, no matter how much everyone around her told it wasn’t. Lo’ak had heard his brother's outburst and felt very apologetic for all the times Neteyam had taken the blame for his antics. Making a note to apologise to him as soon as he was able to leave the lab. Kiri felt so sorry for her older brother. Growing up, Neteyam had taken on so much responsibility when he didn’t have to and it broke her heart to know that all the pressure may have contributed to his illness.

—

The sun was slowly setting and the lab was growing quiet as the scientists made their way to the small cafeteria to have dinner. Neteyam’s state hadn’t changed and Jake was becoming increasingly concerned.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Jake lazily leaned towards the small table where the plate of food had sat all day. He smiled a little bit at the sandwich that Norm had crafted. Just as he was going to take a bite. He heard shuffling beside him. Dropping the sandwich back on the plate, Jake watched as Neteyam slowly eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light above him. Jake felt his breath hitch as Neteyam’s head fell to the side and they made eye contact.

Bending down to his level, Jake brushed his hand on the top of his son’s hair.

“Dad?” Neteyam questioned, his voice groggy, trying to sit up. “What happened?”

“Sh sh sh, stay still for me, okay?”

Neteyam nodded, releasing a shaky breath and closing his eyes again.

—

Jake notified the rest of his family of Neteyam waking up. They immediately rushed over, showering the boy with love which Neteyam received with tired smiles. Neytiri had gotten him to eat something small, and the drip was removed. Soon after it was clear that Neteyam was ready to sleep. 

“Dad, can you stay?”

Jake looked at Neytiri briefly before nodding, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Neytiri kissed her eldest son’s head before ushering the rest of her family out of the room and out of the lab. Jake sat back in the chair next to Neteyam’s bed. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, Neteyam shuffling uncomfortably before he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Neteyam’s voice wavers, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“No, no. You do not have to be sorry, okay?” Jake reassured, leaning forward

“I was rude,” Neteyam stated, looking at his father briefly before he looked down at his fists resting on his lap. 

Jake’s heart clenched, not sure what to say. Not sure where to start. I paused trying to gather his thoughts. He reached forward, taking Neteyam’s hands in his.

“Neteyam.” He sighed, “I am so, so, sorry.” 

Even though he has spent 16 years on Pandora. Learning and speaking the language. Jake was not sure he had enough vocabulary to express himself clearly.

“You never have to apologise for how you feel.” Neteyam’s ears twitched at the language change. “I don’t even know where to start. I am just so sorry, and I am a fool for not realising this sooner. It was never, ever, my intention to make you feel the way you have been and I feel like shit knowing that I have caused you pain and sadness. In terms of Tuk, that was not your fault at all. I understand that you tried your best and it was mine and your mother’s fault that we didn’t notice she wasn’t in the camp. It was a coincidence that you were flying overhead, who knows what would’ve happened if you weren't there. You were right. Yes, you’re my eldest child. Their brother. It is not your responsibility to watch out for them consistently."

Jake moved forward in his seat, getting closer to his son as he continued to say whatever came to mind, hoping it would make sense.

“You were also right in saying that I should be acting like your father, not the leader of this clan. I need to separate the two and I will. I promise you. It is wrong of me to expect you to live up to the expectations I pushed onto you due to my own fears. I have been so harsh on you without considering your feelings. I don’t know when things changed. When I started to see you guys as squad members. I have been so focused on pointing out what was ‘wrong’, that I never praised you in the way you kids deserved. I’ve never let you make your own mistakes without being lectured.”

Jake sighed, running a hand over the side of his face.

“I know that just saying this won’t change anything but I will take steps in the right direction to prove that there will be a change. That I will change. For you and your brother. I want you to know that I am so proud of you, Neteyam. I will always be proud of you. No matter what. And I do see you. I have always seen you. I see you so clearly.”

Neteyam bit his lip, nodding and looking down as the corner of his eyes began to burn with tears. Jake leaned forward, pulling his son into a tight hug. Neteyam buried his head into his father’s shoulder as the tears began to fall. Jake smiled, the corners of his mouth as tears began to well up in his eyes.

The door to Neteyam’s temporary room slid open, causing the hug to end, Lo’ak’s head peeking around the corner. Jake smiled softly, motioning him to enter the room. He cautiously walked in, pretending he wasn’t outside eavesdropping the whole time. Neteyam patted a place on the bed. Lo’ak sat down stiffly. 

Jake took a hand in his, giving it a squeeze causing Lo’ak to look down shyly. 

Things will be different. 

Note: When I started writing this, I was just throwing symptom after symptom at Neteyam, just thinking of things that may seem unusual to the Na’vi population but humans may be familiar with. My medical knowledge goes as far as my mum’s nursing books. Out of curiosity, I did Google these symptoms and I was given hypoglycaemia (low blood sugar). Obviously this isn’t an accurate representation of hypoglycaemia and it was not intentional.

#avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar x reader #jake sully #neteyam x reader #atwow x reader #avatar fluff #avatar angst #platonic jake sully #neytiri #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar #jake sully x reader #avatar fanfiction #angst #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #neteyam sully x reader #jake sully angst #jake sully fluff #neteyam sully angst #lo'ak sully #jake sully oneshot #neteyam one shot #avatar twow #twow #atwow angst

[throneofsmut]

BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 5

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

Warnings: None. (at least I don't think so)

Author's Note: None.

Word Court: 3.5k

****

The estate sprawled across a rolling green land. You'd never seen anything like it; even your former home and the Archeron Manor couldn't compare. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. The grounds were encased by woods, but stretched so far that you could barely see the distant line of the forest.

Your awe might have overpowered your confusion at the sight of Feyre looking at the place as if it was wholly empty and silent. Above the array of amethyst irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal ticked your nostrils. Quickly realizing that she couldn’t see what you saw. Feyre couldn’t see all the fairies that were stealing glances at both of you.

The faerie meandered on ahead, leaping nimbly up the grand marble staircase that led to the giant oak doors in one mighty, fluid movement. The doors swung open for him on silent hinges, and he prowled inside. You felt for your knives, finding the feel of them still beneath your clothes comforting.

Feyre’s horse came to a stop of her own accord at the foot of the stairs. The message was clear enough. The towering estate house seemed to be watching, waiting.

You glanced over your shoulder toward the still-open gates. If you were to bolt, it would have to be now.

South—all you had to do was go south, and you would eventually make it to the wall. If you didn't encounter anything before then. You could make it but you wouldn’t risk losing Feyre. She tugged on the reins, but the mare remained stationary—even as she dug her heels into her sides. She let out a low, sharp hiss. Her knees buckling as she hit the ground, blinking as if bits of light were flashing in her vision.

She grasped the saddle and winced as soreness and hunger racked her senses. Now. You had to go now. You made to move, grabbing her arm, but she looked like she was going to pass out.

Only a fool would run with no food, no strength.

You wouldn't get half a mile like this. Wouldn't get half a mile before he caught her and tore her to ribbons, as he'd promised. She took a long, shuddering breath. Food. You need to get her food and water, then run at the next opportune moment. It sounded like a solid plan.

When she was steady enough to walk, you let go of her and left the horse at the bottom of the stairs, taking the steps one at a time. Arms hovering around her, just in case she did pass out. Your breath tight in your chest, as you passed through the open doors and into the shadows of the house.

Inside, it was even more opulent. Black and white checkered marble shone at your feet, flowing to countless doors and a sweeping staircase. A long hall stretched ahead to the giant glass doors at the other end of the house, and through them you glimpsed a second garden, grander than the one out front. No sign of a dungeon—no shouts or pleas rising up from hidden chambers below. No, just the low growl from a nearby room, so deep that it rattled the vases overflowing with fat clusters of hydrangea atop the scattered hall tables. As if in response, an open set of polished wooden doors swung wider to your left. A command to follow.

Tensing as you entered the room. Making sure to keep Feyre behind you.

A long table—longer than any the Archeron’s had ever possessed at your family manor—filled most of the space. It was laden with food and wine—so much food, some of it wafting tendrils of steam, that made your mouth water. At least it was familiar, and not some strange faerie delicacy: chicken, bread, peas, fish, asparagus, lamb… it could have been a feast at any mortal manor. Another surprise. The beast padded to the oversized chair at the head of the table.

You lingered by the threshold, gazing at the food—all that hot, glorious—food that you knew Feyre wouldn’t want to eat. Even if she needed it. That was the first rule humans are taught as children, usually in songs or chants: If misfortune forced you to keep company with a faerie, you never drank their wine, never ate their food. Ever. Unless you wanted to wind up enslaved to them in mind and soul— unless you wanted to wind up dragged back to Prythian. Well, the second part had already happened, but she didn’t know most of what she was taught was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

The beast plopped into the chair, the wood groaning and in a flash of white light, turned into a golden-haired man.

You hoped your face remained an unreadable mask, blinking was the only reaction you’d show, as your worst nightmare became real. Continued to hope he didn’t know you or about you, even though you knew who he is—what he is—to you.

Feyre pushed herself against the paneled wall beside the door, you could hear her feeling for the molding of the threshold, trying to gauge the distance between her and escape. As she realized this beast was not a man, not a lesser faerie. He was one of the High Fae, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful, lethal, and merciless.

His nose, cheeks, and brows were covered by an exquisite golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. Just like it was described in the stories you were told. It left only his eyes—looking the same as they had in his beast form, strong jaw, and mouth for you to see, and the latter tightened into a thin line.

"You two should eat something," he said. Unlike the elegance of his mask, the dark green tunic he wore was rather plain, accented only with a leather baldric across his broad chest. It was more for fighting than style, even though he bore no weapons you could detect. Not just one of the High Fae, but. . . a warrior, too. He filled a glass of wine from an exquisitely cut crystal decanter and drank deeply. As if he needed it.

"Who are you?" Feyre managed to say. His light golden hair was so similar to the color of his beast form's pelt. Those giant claws undoubtedly still lurked just below the surface of his skin. If the stories embedded in your memory were true.

"Sit," he said gruffly, waving a broad hand to encompass the table. "Eat."

You knew Feyre’s silence meant she was reciting the chants in her head, again and again. No doubt deciding it wasn’t worth it—easing her ravenous hunger was definitely not worth the risk of being enslaved to him in mind and soul. And you had never fought the urge to drag her to the table to eat and drink as much as you were now.

He let out a low growl, directed at Feyre. "Unless you'd rather faint?"

"It's not safe for humans," She managed to say. It took all your focus not to roll your eyes at her. But you couldn’t fault her, she didn’t know and you had never told her.

He huffed a laugh—more feral than anything. "The food is fine for you to eat, human." Those strange green eyes pinned her to the spot, as if he could detect every muscle in her body that was priming to bolt. And every muscle in yours was fighting to sit and eat for her sake or bolt with her. "Leave, if you want," he added with a flash of teeth. "I'm not your jailer. The gates are open—you can live anywhere in Prythian."

You could survive. Just needing to make it your family’s cottage—your real family’s cottage. And no doubt risk Feyre being eaten or tormented by a wretched faerie. But while every inch of this place was civilized and clean and beautiful, you had to get out, had to get back. That promise to your mother, cold and vain as she was, was all you had. You both made no move toward the food.

"Fine," he said, the word laced with a growl, and began serving himself.

You didn't have to face the consequences of refusing him another time, as someone strode past you, heading right for the head of the table.

"Well?” The stranger said, another High Fae: red-haired and finely dressed in a tunic of muted silver. He, too, wore a mask. He looked familiar but you couldn’t be sure. He sketched a bow to the seated male and then crossed his arms. Somehow, he hadn't spotted you where you were still pressed against the wall.

"Well, what?" Your captor cocked his head, the movement more animal than human.

"Is Andras dead, then?"

A nod from your captor—savior—whatever he was. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"How?" The stranger demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped his muscled arms.

"An ash arrow," said the other. His red-haired companion hissed. "The Treaty's summons led me to the mortals. I gave them safe haven."

"Two girls—two mortal girls actually killed Andras." Not a question so much as a venom-coated string of words. He glanced at the end of the table, where your empty chairs stood. "And the summons found the girls responsible." Not a question, a fact.

The golden-masked one gave a low, bitter laugh and pointed at you. "The Treaty's magic brought me right to their doorstep."

The stranger whirled with fluid grace. His mask was bronze and fashioned after a fox's features, concealing all but the lower half of his face—along with most of what looked like a wicked, slashing scar from his brow down to his jaw. It didn't hide the eye that was missing—or the carved golden orb that had replaced it and moved as though he could use it. It fixed on the both of you. On you.

Even from across the room, you could see his remaining russet eye widen. Something flashing in it, but as quick as it came it was gone.

He sniffed once, his lips curling a bit to reveal straight white teeth, and then he turned to the other faerie. "You're joking," he said quietly. "Those scrawny things brought down Andras with a single ash arrow?"

Bastard—an absolute bastard.

“And a dagger.” You added with a feral smirk and wicked gleam in your eye.

"And a dagger," the golden-haired one said tightly, repeating what you said, tracing the rim of his goblet with finger. A long, lethal claw slid out, scraping against the metal as you fought to keep your breathing steady. Especially as he added, "They didn't try to deny it."

The fox-masked faerie sank onto the edge of the table, the light catching in his long fire-red hair. “Well,” the red-haired one seethed, "now we’re stuck with the that, thanks to your useless mercy, and you've ruined—“

You stepped forward—only a step. Body moving on its own, you didn’t care being spoken about like but. . .Feyre. It was enough. Letting out a warning growl, sounding more animal than human, had them tensing. Even if they tried to hide it, you noticed.

You were noticing everything. As soon as you made it to the other side of the wall it was almost as if your senses were on overdrive. Like the fog had finally cleared.

"Did you enjoy killing my friend, human?" the red-haired one said. "Did you hesitate, or was the hatred in your heart riding you too hard to consider sparing him? It must have been so satisfying for a small mortal thing like you to take him down."

Scoffing, not bothering to hide the sharpness in your voice, “It doesn’t matter, whatever we say doesn’t matter, he’s gone.”

The golden-haired one said nothing, but his jaw tightened. As they studied you. You reached for your knives.

"Anyway," the fox-masked one continued, facing his companion again with a sneer. "Perhaps there's a way to— "

"Lucien," your captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to you. "My apologies, ladies." Another joke at your expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to Feyre with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."

Then he turned to you, eyes narrowing, mouth opening and closing before opening again, “You. You’re different. Who are you?” He cocked his head—waiting for you to give him your name. But telling him anything about you and where you came from—

"Her name is Y/n," said the one in charge—the beast. He must have learned your name at the cottage or when Feyre said it on the trek here. Those striking green eyes met yours again and then flicked to Feyre. “And that’s her sister, Feyre.”

“Sister?” The red head questioned, disbelievingly.

You held his gaze not wanting to give him any trace of a doubt about who you really were. What you were.

Then the blonde faerie looked to the door. "Alis will take you to your rooms. You could both use a bath and fresh clothes."

Suddenly there was a firm hand at your elbow, and you whirled around. Forgetting that you had to continue to act as humanly as possible. A rotund brown-haired woman in a simple brass bird mask tugged on your arm and inclined her head toward the open door behind her. Her white apron was crisp above her homespun brown dress—a servant. She wasn’t high fae, her ears were pointed but she had tree-bark like skin.

You barely made it a few steps before Lucien growled, "That's the hand the Cauldron thought to deal us? They brought Andras down? We never should have sent him out there—none of them should have been out there. It was a fool's mission." His growl was more bitter than threatening. "Maybe we should just take a stand—maybe it's time to say enough. Dump the girls somewhere, kill them, I don't care—they’re nothing but a burden here. They'd sooner put a knife in your back than talk to you—or any of us."

You tried calming your breathing, not clench your fists, but—

"No," the other bit out. "Not until we know for certain that there is no other way will we make a move. And as for the girls, they stay. Unharmed. End of discussion. Their life in that hovel was hell enough.”Your cheeks heated, even while you loosened a tight breath, and you avoided looking at Alis as you felt her eyes slide to you. A hovel you suppose that’s what your cottage was when compared to this place.

"Then you've got your work cut out for you, old son," Lucien said. "Maybe they can even train with the others on the border."

A snarl of irritation resonated through the air. From the blonde.

And before realizing what you were doing you pulled out of Alis’s hold, walking right up to Lucien, pushing him against the wall. You heard a chair scrap back and Lucien lifted a hand—stopping him. Stopping the other high fae. Your left forearm braced against his throat as your right hand now gripped one of your ash daggers, pressing it against his ribs—angling it at his heart.

“Watch it.” Your voice was lethally soft as you whispered your confession, quiet enough for only him to hear you leaned in, “I didn’t want to kill him. I said a prayer for him in his final moments. I stayed with him until his last breath. Holding him, trying to comfort him and let him know he wasn’t alone. But if your High Lord. . . you or anyone tries to come after my sister I will kill you. All of you. I won’t even use this dagger or an ash arrow. . . I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands.”

When you leaned back, his face was pale. In that moment you let him take in the death promise in your eyes before giving him a wicked smirk. Heading back towards Alis and Feyre.

The shining, spotless halls swallowed you up before you could hear what the blonde was saying to him.

****

Alis led you both through halls of gold and silver until you came to a lavish bedroom on the second level. Alis led you into one and three other servants ushered Feyre into the one across the hall. “Alis?”

“Yes?”

“If they hurt her, I’ll-“

“She’s safe.” She promised.

You’ll admit you didn’t fight that hard when Alis and two other servants—also masked—bathed you, cut your hair, and then plucked you.

You took one look at the velvet turquoise dress Alis had placed on the bed and wrapped your white dressing gown tightly around you, sinking into a chair and asking for your old clothes to be returned. Alis refused, “Princess, why would you want to wear those rags again?”

You stiffened at the word, the title—Princess.

“Don’t be so shocked. I can see your mother in you, Princess.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied nonchalantly.

She stared at you, and when you held her stare telling her you hadn’t worn a dress in years, and wasn’t about to start now, she stormed out. Not when you wouldn’t be able to move freely in it, to fight in it. For Feyre and you if it came down to it.

Bundled in your robe, you sat for minute after minute, the chattering of small birds in the garden beyond the windows the only sounds.

The bedroom was larger than your entire cottage. Its walls were pale green, delicately sketched with patterns of gold, and the moldings were golden as well. You might have thought it tacky had the ivory furniture and rugs not complemented it so well. The gigantic bed was of a similar color scheme, and the curtains that hung from the towering headboard drifted in the faint breeze from the open windows. Your dressing gown was of the finest silk, edged with lace—simple and exquisite enough that you ran a finger along the lapels.

The door creaked, and Alis returned a bundle of clothing in her hands. She lifted your sodden shirt. "You want to wear this?" You stared at the holes in the sides and sleeves. "It fell apart the moment the laundresses put it in water." She held up a few scraps of brown. "Here's what's left of your pants. Will you wear the dress now?" she demanded. You scoffed, you knew you should get up, should agree, but you slumped farther into your seat. Alis stared you down for a moment before leaving again.

She returned with trousers and a tunic that fit you well, both of them rich with color. A bit fancy, but you didn't complain when you donned the white shirt, nor when you buttoned the deep purplish blue, almost black tunic and ran your hands over the scratchy, golden thread embroidered on the lapels. The tunic resembling night. You rolled your eyes at her, knowing she picked this tunic for its color specifically.

Alis herded you into a low-backed chair before the darkened fireplace, and you didn’t fight back as she ran a comb through your hair and began braiding it. "You’re hardly more than skin and bones," she said, her fingers luxurious against your scalp.

"Winter does that to poor mortals. " You said, fighting to keep the sharpness from your tone.

She huffed a laugh. "Princess, you forget yourself. You are neither poor nor mortal. What would your mother think, hmm? What would the late Princess Rhaenyra think? ”

Meeting her gaze through the mirror, making sure to speak low enough so only she could hear you, even if it was just the two of you. You spoke through clenched teeth, “I’m only going to say this once. I’m not who you think I am. The Princess you knew is dead, she died when her mother did eleven years ago. That princess lost everything when she lost her mother. So this is the last time I’m telling you this, I’m not “Princess Y/n”. I’m just Y/n.”

Alis gave a curt nod, something like sadness lacing her features. She remained quiet as she finished braiding your hair. But once she was done, she placed her hand on your shoulder and finally spoke. “Be careful. Keep your wits about you. Some folk are bound to be upset about Andras. Yet if you ask me, Andras was a good sentinel, but he knew what he would face when he crossed the wall—knew he'd likely find trouble. And the others understand the terms of the Treaty, too —even if they might resent your presence here, thanks to the mercy of our master. So keep your head down, and none of them will bother you. Though Lucien—he could do with someone snapping at him, which you obviously have courage for."

When she realized you weren’t going to say anything, she gently squeezed your shoulders and then moved to open the door to the hall.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #bound in flames #eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x y/n

[tiny-tini-imagines]

Aragorn is in love with a female human reader

So, since i wrote some headcanons about Legolas being in love with a female elf, I thought about writing some for the other members of the fellowship too. If you'd like to read diffenrent character constellations than mine, (characters, races, franchise), feel free to ask, I'd be really happy about it.

Headcanons - Lord of the rings

summary: Aragorn is in love with a female human reader

time setting: shortly after Aragorn's coronation

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Sunrise Conversations: In the early mornings, when the kingdom is still asleep, Aragorn and you would often sit on the walls of Minas Tirith, watching the sunrise and sharing quiet conversations about your hopes and dreams for the future.

Handwritten Letters: Despite your close proximity, Aragorn takes pleasure in sending handwritten letters to you, sealed with the royal seal of Gondor. He enjoys the anticipation of your response, no matter if its by letter of in person. (He writes you every day, if he ever has to leave you for some days or other way around)

A Willing Listener: Aragorn is an attentive listener, hanging on to your every word, showing that your thoughts and feelings matter deeply to him.

Dances in the Courtyard: Occasionally, when the court is not in session, Aragorn would occasionaly sweep you into an impromptu dance in the castle's courtyard, your laughter echoing through the stone walls.

Endless Respect: Aragorn treats you with unwavering respect, valuing your opinions and decisions as equal to his own.

Shared Journeys: You embark on long rides through the countryside, exploring the lands of Gondor together, taking solace in the beauty of the kingdom and the comfort of your presence. (You'd often talk to your people, especially after thw war and try to listen and help them as best as possible, people love to see you together).

"My love, every day I am reminded of the incredible strength and grace you bring to our kingdom, and to my heart."

Regal Courtesy: As King of Gondor, he still maintains the same level of courtesy and humility with you as he would with any subject.

Shared Responsibilities: While he bears the weight of the kingdom's responsibilities, he makes sure to include you in important decisions and trusts your judgment.

"She possesses a heart as courageous as any warrior I've known, and her wisdom has guided us through many trials. Gondor is fortunate to have such a steadfast ally by its side."

Respect for Your Independence: Aragorn respects your independence and encourages you to pursue your interests and passions, even as his queen. (His loyalty to you is unwavering, and he will stand by your side through any challenge or adversity.)

Healing Touch: Aragorn tends to any injuries you sustain with a gentle touch and skilled hands, his care and concern evident in every motion.

Understanding Silences: Aragorn understands the power of shared silences, finding comfort in simply being in your presence.

The King's Lullaby: Aragorn hums a soft, ancient lullaby to you when you can't sleep, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

The Kings's Comfort: You'd often find yourself in his arms, after a nightmare and him whispering soothing words into your ear.

"I know it was a frightening dream, but I promise, I'll chase away the shadows and keep you safe."

Gentle Affection: His gestures are filled with gentleness and affection, whether it's a tender kiss on the forehead or a warm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Protector and Champion: He takes his role as your protector seriously, ensuring your safety and well-being are his top priorities.

"No matter what challenges lie ahead, I want you to know that I will always be by your side, my heart forever entwined with yours."

Laughter-Filled Evenings: You share evenings filled with laughter and storytelling, surrounded by a circle of close friends and trusted advisors, reveling in the joy of being together.

His Favorite Book: Aragorn keeps a copy of the your favorite book in his personal library, its well-worn pages a testament to how deeply he values your interests. He'd often read it to you, when you have troubles falling asleep.

Moonlit Picnics: On clear nights, Aragorn arranges secret picnics in a hidden garden, the soft glow of moonlight casting a romantic atmosphere over your intimate moments. He also manages to get all your favourite foods (other things), to make you happy. (Aragorn takes pride in blending herbal teas for you, each concoction carefully chosen for its calming properties and unique flavors.)

Quality Time: He treasures the moments you spend together, whether it's a quiet evening by the fire, exploring the city, or attending formal events.

Unexpected Surprises: He enjoys surprising you with small, thoughtful gifts or spontaneous adventures, keeping the spark of romance alive.

His Crown and Her Crown: Aragorn places a small, delicate crown made of wildflowers on your head during your private moments together, (also before an offical celebration etc.), a symbol of your shared sovereignty.

Heartfelt Vows: You would exchange heartfelt vows of eternal love and commitment, sealed with a kiss under the ancient White Tree of Gondor. (When you look at each other, there's a shared understanding that you are bound together for eternity, your love enduring through everything.) - Together, you create cherished traditions, marking significant moments in your relationship with meaning and love.

"When I look at you, I see the future of Gondor, and I am filled with hope for the days to come."

#lotr x you #lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr oc #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings headcanons #lord of the rings x reader #aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #aragorn headcanons #aragorn headcanon #gondor #aragorn son of arathorn #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit imagine #hobbit #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #tolkien #lotr movies #aragorn x arwen #arwen #fantasy art #lotr art #lord of the rings art #lotr fanart

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 7

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 7,200

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

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Though the street signs are blurred in a shade of green and completely unreadable to you, something tells you that you’ve finally reached the correct block. Maybe it’s the sigh of relief that Matt lets out, his shoulders relaxing the tiniest amount, that gives it away, but before you can say anything, Matt is pulling you to the right as he jogs across the street. You’re not a runner, not someone who exercises much past your daily walking around the city, and sweat drips down your face as the exertion and heat of the city attempts to wear you down. Your palm is sweaty from where it’s grasped in Matt’s, but the hold is firm and solid as it takes you along behind him.

When you’re close enough to see the blurred sign indicating the entrance of the subway station beneath the ground you stand upon, colored dots decorating the metal that are supposed to tell you where you’ll be headed, your heart stutters in a sharp sense of relief, one that has never felt so visceral before. Your eyes well with a brief bout of tears as you stumble along to a stop.

Thank God.

“We made it,” Matt says over his shoulder, dark eyes landing somewhere behind you. “There’s nothing blocking it.”

“Good, that’s…good,” you mumble with a sniff as you throw your head back in an attempt to dry your eyes, words temporarily failing you. It feels like your whole life has been headed here, the dirty underground of New York City beckoning you with promises of protection. Above you, tall buildings tower around the city, large and imposing and more fragile than you wanted to believe. Your less-than perfect vision makes it tough for you to tell which ones now have large gouges in the side, which ones have shattered glass, which ones are far too close to losing their strength and tumbling to the ground. You figure it’s only a matter of time before buildings begin collapsing if they haven’t started already.

The smell penetrating the New York air is unpleasant, and the flames and shrouds of smoke that rise up and up into the sky leave behind shattered infrastructures and battered people. The sky had seemed so untouchable until today, nothing but an airplane or a bird soaring through the heights, but now it feels so wrong and dirty and violated.

“Come on,” Matt says, hesitant to linger outside any longer, his dress shoes in awful condition as they maneuver around brick and steel that has fallen to the ground. “Let’s get inside.”

He holds your hand as he walks down the stairs, one step ahead of you, subtly putting himself in a position to catch you should you fall. Your legs feel unsteady, two limbs made of jello, as you follow after him, the muscles having a hard time adjusting to moving downwards after what felt like a lifetime of walking quickly through the damaged blocks of NYC. 

The tentative promise of safety starts to ease the fight or flight mode, leaving you with nothing but a body with flayed nerves and a beginning sense of horrified clarity that you’re not quite sure you’re able to handle at the moment.

You’re not exactly shocked to find that the power has gone out, the opening platform lit up with nothing more than glowing exit signs and a few emergency lights lit up sporadically. It’s hot and stuffy, the warm, humid air sticking automatically to your skin like a thin layer of grease, and you can’t help the shudder of disgust that runs through your body.

Ew.

Matt seems to feel the same, if the scrunching of his nose is anything to go by. You’re not quite sure how he’s managed in long sleeves and pants, though he had thrown his suit jacket in an alley dumpster somewhere along the way, the fabric torn and coated with a mixture of his blood, yours, and Bill’s. It’s a brutal montage to pain and the ending of life.

He's a poster child for heat exhaustion and extreme tension, and you don’t envy the clothing that sticks to him like a second skin. And even in the limited lighting, you have to forcibly tear your eyes away from the sweat that plasters his shirt to his chest, leaving the fabric slightly sheer in a way that is far too enticing.

Not the time, you tell yourself.

“God, it smells awful down here,” he mumbles under his breath, his lip curling slightly.

You nod in agreement as you run your wrapped hand over your forehead to wipe away the sweat. “Doesn’t feel like any air is being circulated,” you say with a grimace, “which makes it so much worse than it normally is.”

“It’s awful no matter what,” Matt tells you with another scrunch of his nose. “That’s why I don’t normally take the subway, to be honest.”

The look on your face is thoughtful as you look up at him. “And the sound too, right?” you ask almost hesitantly. “I imagine it’s too much for you.”

He throws a small smile your way, his expression less guarded than it had been before when he’d explained the way his hearing worked, the way that each and every tick of sound within a certain distance is picked up. “Yeah, that, too.”

The corners of your mouth twitch marginally, matching the slight grin that had been aimed your way, before you clear your throat quietly. Your eyes, limited though their sight is, bounce around the empty entrance to the subway from where you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “So, what now? Where is—”

But your words cut off when the quiet sounds of voices, hiccups, and soft sobs hit your ear. Mouth parted in shock, you take a few steps further in, tugging Matt behind you slowly, and a swift sense of sheer joy hits you at the confirmed notion of other survivors, relief flooding through a system that has been nothing but overwhelmed and petrified all day. 

“How…how many people are down here?” you ask him with a hushed voice, unable to hold back the tint of excitement that colors the words. “Can you tell how many–”

“A few hundred,” Matt cuts you off in response. “They’re a little further in, but they’re here.”

With a smile that suddenly splits open your face, the thought of safety suddenly seems so much more concrete. If hundreds of people were here, if hundreds of people had found refuge in the subway station, then surely you’d found a decent place to ride out the rest of the invasion…

…right?

You continue pulling Matt along behind you, but he quickly takes the journey into his own navigation, tugging you left when you had twisted ever-so slightly right, broad shoulders tense and squared in front of you as if instinctively guarding you from any surprises that might force themselves between you and the destination you so desperately needed to get to. 

A swift turn brings the pair of you into the openness of the platform, and with it, brings the view of a large mass of people hiding and huddling together underneath every shudder and cackling boom that lights up the world above. They’re shockingly quiet, only random conversations and murmurs standing out amongst the crowd, and while it initially strikes you as odd, you suppose fear has a way of quieting people down just as much as it forcefully elicits cries of terror and pain.

You can personally relate to those who are filled with so much horror that it’s difficult to speak, difficult to articulate any words that might accurately sum up how every crash on the surface world chips a hole into the security they had felt just hours before. 

Earth had never been prepared for something like this.

The lack of light and missing glasses make it difficult to view the world around you, but you’re able to make it out bits and pieces here and there. People eye the pair of you warily as you slowly approach them, some of them offering tiny smiles that look more like a grimace, and others look away with open disinterest. There’s blood amongst the crowd, faces weary and limbs newly scarred, but overall the injuries amongst the survivors seems rather limited, indicating that people had either already been down here when the attack started with a literal bang, or they had been nearby and had been able to find shelter relatively quickly.

You’re grateful that so many people had made it through so unscathed, a much kinder fate given to them that hadn't been offered to Bill or those who had been on the bus of burning oranges and reds.

“What do you want to do?” Matt asks, turning back to you, his face lowering towards yours and speaking softly, seemingly unwilling to disrupt the quiet that the crowd had shrouded themselves in. “Do you want to go further in? We could hop the gate and get closer to the tracks.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What do you think we should do?”

He considers the question for just a brief second before blowing out a heavy breath. “There’s convenience stores and stuff down there, right? Maybe we should see if we can find some water.”

You nod your head in swift agreement, because yeah, that makes sense. “I…yeah, we should–”

“It’s a madhouse down there,” says a man suddenly from where he leans against the wall just a foot or two away. You turn your head swiftly to face him, eyes squinting to see him better and taking in the shredded sleeve of his collared shirt and the scratch that runs down the right side of his face. Matt slowly turns to face the stranger as well, still without the black lenses that had been resting on the bridge of his nose before you’d been forced to the ground with a large burst of warm air. 

It’s too dark to make out much detail, but if the man notices how Matt’s eyes don’t meet his, he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s absolute chaos, or at least it was when I was down there,” the man continues with a wince. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

You frown. “Why not?”

“When people realized what was going on, they went nuts,” the man replies. He leans heavily against the wall, nudging slightly at an old black backpack that sits on the ground just in front of him. The croaking voice only matches the disarray of his face and hair, and the longer he stares at you, the more wary you become. Eventually he lets out a loud sigh, shoulders slumping down. “Everything’s been picked over. Even saw some people fighting over whatever food and water was in the shops. People don’t know how long it’s going to last, so it was a mad rush for everything.”

You can’t help but deflate a little, but you suppose it’s fine. The important thing was getting a heavy roof over your head, one to withstand the desolation and destruction above. “Got it. Guess we’ll stay up here then,” you say with a shake of your head, wincing in disappointment. “What do you think, Matt? I’d rather not deal with the chaos, not after all it took getting here. I need to sit down.”

“Are you sure?” Matt frowns as he twists so that he’s once more taking up your entire field of vision. “We can go wherever you need. Where would you feel safest?”

“With you,” you answer without hesitating, ignoring how your cheeks seem to flood with heat at the quick and honest answer. “I would feel safest wherever you are.”

Matt nods grimly as his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand. He gives you a look of consideration, dark eyes dancing blindly over your form, and it’s only a split second before he’s finally relaxing against you. “There’s space along the wall a few yards away. Let’s go sit down.”

But before Matt can turn away to take you to the spot he’s referencing, another sweat soaked hand lands on your elbow, startling you into rocking back on your heels and nearly losing your balance in an effort to dislodge it. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the old man says quickly, swiftly bringing your attention back to him. He gives a pained smile as he lets go of your arm and reaches down to grab the backpack at his feet. “It’s just…I was one of the ones who grabbed a ton of supplies from one of the stores down there,” he tells you with an awkward smile. “I’ve been saving some of it, but I think you might need it more than me right now.”

You watch in bewilderment as he unzips his backpack, arm disappearing inside as it searches for something by touch. It’s only a few seconds before he’s pulling out a few granola bars and placing them in your hand, the slick slide of the wrapper sticking to your skin almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you gasp out, grasping them tightly in your hand, stomach suddenly grumbling at the thought of the snack. “I–” But before you can finish speaking, he’s reaching back into his backpack and pulling out two sweating bottles of water. He hands them to Matt who reaches out quickly, large hands gripping both bottles easily. 

“Thank you,” Matt echoes you, voice lilting in light surprise. “Thank you so much.”

“You didn’t have…just, thank you. We really appreciate it,” you tell the man with a sudden grin. You let go of Matt’s hand to grab the stranger’s, squeezing it in appreciation. The man seems almost embarrassed by the gratitude, his face shifting to a light shade of pink that’s visible even in the glow of the scattered emergency lights. 

“You’re welcome,” he responds, the tone somewhat bashful. “Gotta take care of each other, right?” You open your mouth to respond, but he shoos you away with a grin. “Go sit down. You look like you’ve had it rough.”

From beside you, Matt snorts. “You have no idea.” And with one last grateful smile at the man, you reach back for Matt’s outstretched hand, and let him tug you away.

It’s a quick walk, just about twenty feet away, really, though it’s a hesitant one, stepping and moving past people who are both sitting and standing, doing your best to not brush up against someone or step on any fingers. When you reach the empty spot along the wall, you immediately slide down it, allowing yourself a brief moment to dismiss the energy that’s already started leeching away. Matt sits down on your right, his movement smooth and quiet as he guides himself to the ground, and you take a split second to envy the grace that exists in a form that has to be just as exhausted as yours. 

“Granola bar?” you ask him once he’s settled, offering it out to him.

Matt seemingly can’t help the quiet laugh he lets out and it makes you pause in surprise.

“What?” you ask with a confused grin of your own. 

“Just seems so mundane,” he says with a tilt of his lips, and though the smile is there, it quickly takes on a haunted edge. “After everything…just settling in and eating a goddamn granola bar feels a little ridiculous.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” you tell him with a small huff of bitter laughter because he’s one hundred percent correct. You place the granola bar in his hand. “Still, eat the bar. You need it.”

He tears it open, shoving a large bite into his mouth as you watch with thinly veiled satisfaction. Glancing away and reaching over, you grab one of the water bottles that sits at Matt’s feet, twisting the top open and taking a long sip. It rushes down your throat, the cool liquid almost a harsh slide compared to your overheated body that’s still struggling to bring the adrenaline down. But you drink it happily, sighing when you pull it away from your parched lips.

“Aren’t you thirsty?” you ask him, gasping for breath after a large gulp of water, wiping the small drops that had slid down your chin in your haste. His own bottle sits next to his knee and he makes no move to grab it.  “Why aren’t you drinking?” 

From beside you, Matt shifts slightly before he shakes his head, putting on a grin that you can immediately tell is a lie. Still, you observe him curiously as you lift the bottle in your hands back up to your mouth. Eyes close as the water floods your mouth and rushes down your throat. “It’s alright,” he responds nonchalantly. “We need the water to clean those cuts on your knees and arm.”

Choking on the sip, your eyes startle open and fly to his face incredulously. “What? What are you talking about?”

“From when you fell,” he tells you as he gestures at the arm that is still oozing from the concrete and asphalt you’d been scraped viciously against. “Those need to be cleaned out. We should do it while we’re resting.”

Your mouth drops further open in disbelief. 

Oh, hell no.

“So you’re gonna sacrifice your water so that you can help clean them out?”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” he disagrees with a tilt of his chin that suggests a layer of defensiveness as if he feels the need to explain why he’s putting himself last. “You need them cleaned up. The water is going to good use.”

“At the expense of you having some water.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” you argue, twisting the cap back onto your own bottle, resting it in your lap. The look you send him can only be described as absolutely flabbergasted. “You will not be fine. You’ve got to be extremely dehydrated. Drink the water.”

“The cuts needs to be taken care–”

“I’ll get them looked at later.”

“They could get infected.”

Fucking hell, why is it so hard to convince him to put his own needs first, for once?

"Matt, that’s what antibiotics are for.”

“We don’t even know when we’ll have access to those,” he continues with an aggravated growl. His voice is low, trying to keep the conversation between the two of you, but you know you’ve drawn some attention. His eyes narrow at you and you match the look. “Maybe we won’t even get them at all. I should—”

“Drink the water,” you respond in kind, sounding both irritated and staggered that he was still pushing back on the matter.  “It’s more important right now.”

“But-”

“Look, Matt,” you say, interrupting him quickly with a hand that pushes lightly against his chest when he tries further to protest. “You’ve…you’ve been the only safety I’ve had through this all. I wouldn’t have even made it this far without you. I need you to be okay, okay? Both because I need you to help me make it through, and because you need to make it through for you. So drink the water and stop worrying about me.”

The look he sends you has a tint of hurt in it. “I can’t just stop worrying about you, that’s–.”

“Fine. Do it later. But for now, drink the fucking water, or I’ll shove it down your throat myself, I swear to God, Matthew. ”

From somewhere a few feet away, a woman lets out a quiet, yet startling bark of amusement at the conversation, but you’re too busy glaring at the man at your side to process the sound. Matt sends you one last glare of his own before he opens the bottle, throws back his head, and takes a long gulping sip.

The second he takes the bottle away from his lips, only half full at this point, he gives you a pointed look, dark eyes narrowed as they land somewhere on your cheek. “Satisfied?”

“For now.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking annoyed. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no easy walk in the park, either.” 

Someone else snickers loudly before covering it with a cough, and the sound catches your attention this time. The faces of the crowd are blurry, but somehow you can tell they’re looking at you, and it strikes that maybe they’re not interested in the conversation, but really just something to keep their minds off of every sound that screeches above. Still, you look at them sheepishly, disliking the attention, before falling back against the wall behind you.

Next to you, Matt continues to hold the bottle in his hands, thumb swiping over the condensation that gathers over the plastic. He fiddles with it, mouth easing from a frown to something that’s more neutral, flinching when something shakes the ground enough that it’s felt down in the tunnels.

“What you said earlier,” you begin, drawing his focus back to you, “about eating a granola bar feeling ridiculous?”

“What about it?” he asks quietly, curiously, the tiny spat from just a few minutes ago all but forgotten.

You inhale and sigh, pulling open the wrapper of your own snack and frowning down at it. “I bet everything will feel that way for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

You shove a bite of the granola bar into your mouth, savoring the sugar and small chocolate chips that were included in the snack, even if it somehow tastes bland in the terror of the day. A few feet away, a child lets out a snore as they sleep in their mother’s lap, and you find yourself envying their ability to find rest in this hellhole. 

“I just…how do you go on after this, you know? How do you heal, how do you find the will to move on and put yourself back into a life that seems so silly in the grand scheme of things?”

Matt lays his head back against the wall behind him and closes his eyes in a grimace. “I don’t know,” he whispers in an honest response. He plays with the granola bar wrapper in his hands before rolling it into a lopsided ball. 

You find yourself echoing his movement and let your head tilt backwards against the wall, bitterness beginning to seep in more heavily, the next bite of the granola bar chewed harshly and without a sense of taste this time. “I work in advertising, for God’s sake. Who's going to want a new perfume or a diamond necklace or the next iPhone when they’re too busy rebuilding their lives, rebuilding their homes, rebuilding a family that’s now missing someone. I just don’t…I don’t know what we’re all supposed to do once it’s all over.”

You can’t help the way the words have flown out, nor how hopeless the tone sounds. 

A large hand settles on your right knee but it doesn’t startle you, his touch now a familiar brand on your skin wherever it chooses to settle, even if it's over fabric. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. “All of us will figure it out. Won’t be easy, and not everyone will choose to stay, but we’ll get there eventually.”

“Do you think you’ll stay?”

Someone coughs loudly a few feet to your left and you wince at the hacking sound, probably a result of inhaling dirty or ash. 

“In New York?” Matt clarifies and only continues after you nod. “Yes, I’ll stay. New York is my home. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“That’s right,” you say with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Born and raised, right?”

“Born and raised,” he says with a confirming nod, and you detect the smallest hint of pride. “Hell’s Kitchen is home. The furthest I’ve been away is Columbia, and I don’t feel the need to go any further.”

You raise your eyebrows. “That's only like…five miles away.”

The smirk that lights up Matt’s face causes your grin to slightly widen. “Exactly.”

“City boy through and through.”

“And proud of it.”

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you tell him as you reach down and squeeze the hand that still rests on your knee. You’re in no rush to push any part of him away from you, the touch confident and soothing, unwavering in its attempt to ground you and himself.

It’s comfortable.

It’s calming.

You would probably never have met him had the sky not opened up today; someone in advertising didn’t exactly run in the same circles with law students, and with over eight million people living in New York City, your paths were unlikely to intersect. If one good thing was to come out of the day, it would be meeting him, no matter how fucked up the situation was.

“What about you?” he asks you suddenly, drawing you out of your head. “Will you stay?”

You shift in your seat, angling your body ever so slightly towards his from where it rests against the wall, considering the question. “I’m…not sure,” you reply quietly, honestly. “I’d have a lot to think about.”

“Understandable.”

You shrug your shoulders, glancing out at the crowd of people who whisper quietly amongst themselves, tear-stained cheeks and torn clothing covered in dust. You’re sure you look no different, though you’re certainly covered in more blood than they are, but there’s an ever present haunted edge to you right now that surely reflects on your face. It’s present in everyone else’s eyes, each a perfect match to their neighbor’s.

“I love it here,” you tell him, eyeing the corner of his lip that rises at the corner. “The people, the food, the energy. I haven’t been here very long, and I’d be sad to leave, but I’d...I’d have to figure out how to live in a place that went from beautiful to t-traumatizing in a split second.”

“That’s fair,” he says softly. “Where would you go? Back home to California?”

You send him a quizzical frown. “Why do you think I’d go back to California?”

“Oh,” he says in mild surprise, followed by a small shrug. “You mentioned living in California earlier, after the building almost collapsed. I just assumed that was home.”

“Ah,” you say with a tilt of your head. Suddenly exhausted, you twist so that you’re laying fully against the wall again, your head leaning back to rest on the stone. “No, I just lived there at one point. I was an army brat, we moved around all over. I was in California during my last two years of high school.”

Matt turns his head to face you, a look of curiosity settling on his face. “Was it rough moving around a lot?”

The wrapper crunches in your hand as you fiddle with it. “Sometimes, yeah. I liked seeing new places and meeting new people, but starting over as the new kid at school after school was rough. I’d make new friends only to move a year or two down the line. I just wanted to put down some roots.”

“Is your dad still in the service?”

“Nah,” you say with a shake of your head. “He put in his twenty years and retired. He now lives in Seattle with his new wife. They’ve been married for a few years.” 

Matt seems curious as he listens, driving the conversation with questions. Anything and everything to avoid the stress and tears of the day, you suppose. “How did you end up in New York?”

“I went to college in Oregon, put in a few years at my company in New Mexico, and when there was an opening in New York, I took it. I’d always wanted to come, and I figured it was a dream come true after the ending of a shitty relationship. I’ve spent the last year or so setting down those roots I’ve always wanted, and now…” you trail off, eyeing the hand that’s still curled up against his from where it rests on your knee. “When it’s all done, I guess I’ll have to decide if I can be one of those famously resilient New Yorkers, or if I’ll need to leave.”

The look he sends you is sad, though it’s somewhat clouded by a sense of understanding. “There’s no shame in leaving.”

“No,” you agree quietly, "no, there’s not.” With a near-silent sigh, you hesitantly release some of the tension still lighting up your body, causing you to almost deflate against the wall, the conversation ending without a protest from either side. Matt must realize the rapid shift because suddenly his hand is leaving your knee and wrapping itself around your shoulders. At first you mildly protest about the loss of contact, but then he’s drawing you in against his side, the heat of his body pressing against you thigh to thigh, hip to hip, arm to arm. You’re not quite sure what to make of it, not sure what it might mean, but you find yourself lowering your head to his shoulder anyway.

It’s only a few seconds before he’s resting his own head on top of yours.

You’re not sure how long you doze on and off for, eyes sliding shut for a few moments at a time, too exhausted to keep them open for much longer than a minute. It’s not a heavy sleep; how could it be with a loud boom and shudder and crash that sounds from up top, rattling pipes and brick? It leaks little pieces of dust and dirt that fall down on the crowd below, people covering their faces and heads to avoid getting them in their eyes, and you barely notice Matt turning his head so that you’re pressed cheek to cheek, blocking both of your eyes from what rains down.

For the most part, his head still settles back up to rest on yours, further gentled by the occasional soothing murmur or the tightening of his arm around your shoulders when there’s a particularly loud and startling shaking of the ground. He seems pretty drowsy himself, the heat and physical exertion from getting to the station perhaps taking a bit of toll, but you know without a hint of doubt that despite the tiredness, he’s alert and one hundred percent focused on his surroundings. He takes that from you, takes the need to be hyper vigilant off of your consciousness, and lets you rest as much as you can against him.

It’s not a lot of time, but you’re grateful all the same.

The wail of an infant pulls you fully out of the drowsiness, your eyes snapping open in surprise at the shrill sound that echoes sharply off of the concrete from just a few feet in front of you. The crying continues, the father’s face surprised at the child’s sudden outburst, though it immediately settles into a look that does its best to offer comfort even in the face of his own terror.

The forms are blurry and stunted in the limited lighting of the station, but you’re able to make it out well enough, the child’s screams an outward expression of everything you’ve been feeling since the sky split wide open. Others face the child, offering words of comfort to both the infant and father, cooing and reaching out to grab its hand or run fingers down its arm. You watch in slight awe as they do their best to reassure a child that isn’t their own, solely because it takes a village to raise children, and right now, those huddled in the hot and stuffy underground is the only village around.

Beside you, Matt groans lightly, his opposite hand rubbing at his right ear, and you’re sure the sound is painful in its own way, based on the way his face scrunches up. But the crying of the infant eventually settles into loud whimpers and gurgles, and the tension visibly bleeds away from his face.

“Are you doing okay?” you ask him quietly, shifting lightly against him, rubbing your cheek on his shoulder in a way that feels almost too intimate. He copies the gesture, shifting his head atop yours, and you can’t help but sigh and learn further in. 

“I’m okay,” he responds with a light groan. “You?”

“Exhausted.” As if to punctuate the statement, you let out a loud yawn that would have been embarrassing if the world didn’t feel like it was ending. “I feel like I could sleep for three days, though I’ll be lucky to sleep after this. I’m assuming nightmares will be a part of my life for years to come.”

“You and me both.”

You grimace. There won’t be a single person within a ten mile radius who won’t be afraid to sleep when all is said and done. It’ll stick around in everyone’s head, everyone’s battered life, everyone’s goddamn cells as they try to move forward, spending their days looking over their shoulders for whatever haunting surprise could come next, and spending their nights trapped in a mind that wants nothing more than to drag them back to this warm, horrendous, spring day.

Everyone knows that the horror isn’t over when the horrifying thing ends; it sticks around and settles within you until all you can do is either fight tooth or nail to function again or allow the despair to pull you down into nothingness. It’ll rip its claws into you regardless, bandages and gauze and stitches not nearly enough to hold you together until there’s a conscious decision to let yourself heal.

Not everyone will make the decision to heal, some will allow it to fester, and you’re not yet sure which example you’ll be. The aftermath is coming closer with every second you stay huddled in that station, and you’re fully aware that sometimes…the aftermath is worse.

The sudden stillness of Matt’s body against you startles you, his breathing paused and fingers digging into your shoulder. It alarms you enough that you pull away from him, and he takes the opportunity to yank his arm from around you. The sudden loss of contact sends off warning bells in your head.

“Matt? What is it?”

Matt’s too quiet for a moment, head tilted away from you and back towards the brief hall that would take someone back up to the dirty New York streets should they desire to leave. Confused, you can’t help but stare at him, watching as he frowns heavily, some knotted piece of gravity pulling the corners of his lips down. His hands have tightened into fists at his sides, and as if he can feel your gaze on him, he whips his back to you.

“I have to go,” he tells you hurriedly. He moves to stand up, bracing his hands on his knees as he leans forward to help push back to his feet. Alarmed, you grab his hand tightly in yours, all but yanking him back against the wall. 

“What?” you ask, your tone absolutely bewildered. What could he possibly be doing, trying to rush out of here? 

He tries to pull away, though he doesn't really fight your grip. “I can’t–people need–”

“Matt,” you hiss, trying to keep from attracting attention as the man next to you begins to spiral, “what are you talking about? It’s safe down here. This is where–”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects swiftly. His eyes are wide, and it looks like he’s ready to jump out of his body, the tension so extreme that it’s a wonder how he’s even able to speak with his jaw as tight as it is. “But there’s–”

“Where could you possibly be going?”

He licks his lips, a nervous tick you’ve picked up on. "I'm going to go…there’s–there’s a building that sounds like it’s collapsed. I can hear people needing help to get out. I need to go. But you need to stay down there, keep something over your head, you’ll be safe down here.”

No. He can’t–

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me,” you tell him in a voice that sounds far too shrill for your liking. Panic all but lights up your skin, little sparks of electricity threatening to start a fire and sear you from the inside out. “You said we’re in this together, right?”

Matt looks extremely pained as he pulls his hand out of yours and lunges to his feet. You only remain on the ground for a split second before you’re shoving yourself to your own full height, standing on legs that still feel far too jittery in their exhaustion. “I know, and I promise I’ll come find you after. But I need to go help those people. There’s no one else–”

“What do you think you’re going to be able to do?” 

He gives you a look that somehow makes you feel like he can see right through you. Without a word, he pulls you behind him as he walks back towards the stairs, expertly navigating you through the crowd of people.

“Where are you going?” a woman cries out from somewhere behind you. “It’s not safe out there!” And as if on cue, something crashes on the surface world, leaving the platform to shudder and groan. People scream and sob, pressing further against each other, and you don’t waste a second pushing yourself against Matt’s back and hiding your face in his shoulders with a gasp.

When the movement stops, Matt continues pulling you along, ignoring the other people who call out and ask where you’re going. When you’re at last alone, back in the same small entrance way that sits at the bottom of the stairs, he swivels on a step and turns to you, his expression grim and holding an anxious energy.

You can tell he’s desperate to get to wherever he feels he needs to get to, but his conviction to help others doesn’t lessen the sheer amount of fear that courses through you at the thought of him leaving.

He runs a hand down his face. “I think we both know you’ve picked up on the fact that I am…not as helpless as I may seem. Am I right?”

You don’t pretend to not know what he was talking about. He may have seemed that way at first, anxiously standing on the doorstep all alone, but the second he took your hand and guided you to the bookstore, he threw every blind stereotype you’d ever had out the window with one heavy footstep. “Yes.”

He inhales sharply at the confirmation. “Good. I need you to do what I said. Go sit back down.” He hasn’t even finished his demand before he’s turning away with one final squeeze of your hand, silk clad shoulders moving to begin their journey up the stairs.

The way you reach for him is almost instinctual, hand grasping at the fabric that covers his hips and tucks into his pants. “Wait!”

“I can’t, I’ve got to go,” he says, barely turning around while trying to untangle your finger from his shirt. His hand is gentle as ever even as he urgently tries to pry himself away.

“I’m coming with you.”

The words are out your mouth before you can stop them, and while they terrify you, they’re strong and leave no room for argument, even though you’re fairly certain he’s going to make it into one, anyway. 

He whirls around, jaw dropped. “No–”

“In this together, right?”

Matt’s face takes on the first flash of anger you’ve seen from him. “No, you need to go back down to safety.”

“You don’t own me, Matt,” you hiss as you take a step closer and back into his space. “I’ll make my own decision. If you’re going…if people really need help, then I’m coming, too.”

“You can’t see further ten feet ahead of you,” he grinds out, throwing your words back at you when you’d panicked and explained your fear after you’d lost your glasses. “How do you expect to help?”

“Pot, kettle.”

Matt runs an aggravated hand through his hair. “That’s hardly fair–”

“Bullshit,” you tell him angrily as you lift a hand and poke his chest to fully demonstrate your point. “It’s bullshit. Expecting me to stay down here while you go out and help more people. If your lack of sight isn’t going to hold you back, then neither is mine.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I don’t care how this works, none of it matters. And the more we argue about it, the higher the chance of people getting hurt,” you argue, squaring your shoulders and glancing up the staircase that will take you back to the Manhattan streets. “So let’s go.”

“I really don’t think–”

“Lead the way, Matt.”

He seems so torn, as if the idea of leading you into something like this will completely defeat the purpose of him shoving you into that bookstore while fire and ash fell about the city in a quick effort to keep you safe. But even while his fear is justified, even while your own fear is tearing yourself into razor-thin pieces of flesh from the inside out, you can’t fathom the idea of him walking away, not when you’re determined to see this through with him.

“You’ve done nothing but save me since I met you,” you tell him quietly, softening your voice. “Let me…let me do the same for someone else.”

Matt’s face is stony, his frame stiff, but he slowly nods his head, the fight seemingly draining out of him as he figuratively sizes you up. You let out a quick sigh of relief, though it doesn’t last long because the scent of fire suddenly hits your nose. You can’t help but flinch at the smell, but you push past the sharp strike of fear that rises up, and without a word, you climb the few steps back out onto the street, turn left, and wait for him to follow.

It’s barely a second before he’s passed you, walking briskly. He gives you a sharp glance and sucks in another deep breath. “I need…I can hear–”

“Run ahead, Matt,” you tell him with a gentle shove. “I’ll follow you.”

“Are you su–”

“Do what you need to do, Matt. You’re...you’re truly a man without fear, and I don’t want to be the one who keeps you from helping others,” you tell him, reaching a hand up to brush a lock of dark hair back from his face. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he surprises you when he reaches out to grab your hand, the motion abrupt as he yanks you to a complete stop. Matt’s mouth is set in a hard line as he turns you to face him directly. Your lips open to protest the movement, utterly bewildered at the sudden halting of movement. 

In a motion that shocks you, Matt lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a hard kiss there. Eyes wide, you watch as he leans into you slightly, dark eyes gleaming and face pale against the blood and dirt that sits across his skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

And then he’s off, sprinting down the block, as if he had been waiting for your permission to leave you behind so that he could go do what he felt was right. You’re not quite sure what to make of it, this urgency to both save others while also making sure you don’t feel like you’re being left behind, but it’s something you need to think about another day.

All you can do is marvel at the strength and grit of a man born and raised in Hell’s Kitchen.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #reader insert

[writingseaslugs]

Octavinelle: Injured Reader

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Injured Reader Headcanons

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is, sadly, used to getting injured, especially as a child. Mermen were harsher when it came to outcasts, and the bullying often got physical. Not to mention as a kid, if the terrain under him wasn’t good, he would get scraps on his tentacles. So he was well versed in how to treat them since his mother always made a big deal out of it. Even now, paper cuts were part of his life so he knew the importance of keeping things disinfected.

When he sees you get injured, he’s a bit entertained but also concerned. He normally didn’t have you working in the kitchen since he had more than enough cooks, but he had allowed it. He watched as one of the students bumped into you, knocking over a pot and causing boiling water to spill your legs. In that moment he swore you’d never handle boiling water again. He froze while you tried not to scream as your legs took on an angry red shade.

Azul likes to take you to his private lounge area and call for Jade to bring some things. Azul has potions aplenty, so he has something for burns. He’ll be pouring an entire bottle on your burns and asking if you’re doing alright. You’re getting the rest of the day off as well, and if he can, he’d prefer it if you just stayed on his office couch so he can make sure the potion is doing its job. It’s totally not so he can keep a close eye on you.

Jade Leech

Not only was it common for eel siblings to physically fight each other as bonding, getting bite marks and scraps, but he also always got some form of injury on his hikes. Just small things, like scratches from tree branches or thorns. He once twisted his ankle while on a hike by himself and had to splint it to make it back down the mountain. Needless to say, injuries were a common occurrence for him and he didn’t think twice about it.

When he watches you dislocate your ankle by trying to jump off a rock and landing wrong, he’s pretty amused. Not at your scream of pain (maybe a little) but as to why you thought that would be a good idea. It had rained the night before and the rock was slippery, so why did you want to jump off it? It seemed like something his twin would do, not you. Still, he is a bit concerned as to how you’d be making it down the mountain because he’s certain your ankle shouldn’t be twisted like that.

Jade will place you on a rock and lean down. If he has something for you to bite down on, he’s handing it over. He’ll give you a small quip about stupidity and before you can shoot one back, he’s popped your ankle back into place and by the Sevens, it hurt. Good thing you had something to bite or else others would think you were being murdered. The good news is you get a piggyback ride down a mountain by Jade, with promises of tea and snacks when you guys get back.

Floyd Leech

Like Jade, he’s used to getting several injuries while rough housing. Not to mention he is also getting into fights with others all the time, so injuries are second nature to him. The thing is that he simply doesn’t care. He’ll walk to his next class with an angry, bleeding bite mark on his arm and act like nothing happened. Might even enjoy others being freaked out. Only time his injuries are treated is if Jade notices, Azul orders him to deal with it to not scare off clients, or one of his close people does it for him.

If he sees you get injured, he’ll probably find it amusing until he notices you’re not having fun like him. He thought it was comical when that glass broke, but seeing those shards in your hand and some in your legs…well, now he’s just upset. He’s going to be going up and asking why you went ahead and got yourself hurt. He’s concerned, this much is obvious, but he’s also annoyed because you shouldn’t be getting injured. All because some idiot tossed something and it shattered the glass in your hands. Whoever did it will be getting squeezed once he knows you’re okay.

To no surprise, he’s scooping you into his arms, even if it hurts you. He’ll just shush you as he goes to Azul’s office, dumping you on the couch before dragging Jade to fix up his little Shrimpy. After you’re fine, he’s going to be following you like a puppy. Arms wrapped around you and head on top of yours if you happened to be shorter. Anyone he deems a threat to you is getting glared at until you’re being left alone. Expect him to also spend the night because you’re not leaving his sight until he’s sure you’re fine and can play with him.

Beta Fishies: @kingheinrey, @epiphyllous, @mint-moushi

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #Jade Leech #Jade Leech x Reader #Jade x Reader #Floyd Leech #Floyd Leech x Reader #Floyd x Reader

[topguncortez]

Court of Thieves

|| Prologue

Jake Seresin x Reader AU | series masterlist | main masterlist

synopsis: years after your wedding to the King, a wedding in which he promised to love and care for you till your final breath.

word count: 625

warnings: mentions of being imprisoned, mentions of burning flesh, mentions of beheading, betrayal, treason.

It was raining. You were never one to like rainy days. You couldn’t go outside and enjoy the vast gardens that surrounded the palace grounds. The scent of mildew and copper made your head hurt. And the castle felt more like a prison when the sun wasn’t able to shine through the large windows. But you assumed, if you were going to die, you would rather it be on a rainy day. 

Your throat felt like sandpaper from the hours you spent crying on the floor of the tower room you were in. You were sure that your stomach was starting to eat itself. You could hardly bring yourself to eat, the anxiety in your body was making it hard to keep anything down. Occasionally sounds of other prisoners would filter in through the walls, reminding you that you weren’t the only one awaiting your fate from the King. You buried your head in your pillow when the noise would get too loud, knowing that someone was about to lose their head. The scent of burning flesh made your own skin crawl. 

“No Queen had ever been put to death in Brinefell.” 

Those words had been spoken to you many years ago when you first traveled to Landing Center. You had feared getting married to the then Crown Prince of Brinefell. You didn’t know a single thing about him other than that he was a flirt, a pretty boy with a pretty face. He wasn’t one for settling down and had no intention of ever settling down. But that had all changed when he found himself suddenly in charge of the throne. 

You knew your marriage was only because your father had a debt to pay to the then King. But somewhere along the line, you had fallen in love with your King. You had tried not to, for so many months, you had tried so hard to not fall in love with those gorgeous green eyes, his devilish charm, and his beautiful smile. But Jake made it easy. He made it almost too easy to fall in love. 

“Maybe I was always the fool,” You whispered to yourself. 

“What, your majesty?” One of the maids, Katherine, asked, as she pinned back your hair. 

“Nothing,” You said, looking down at the small bible in your hands. Katherine nodded and finished your hair, stepping back and curtseying to you when she was finished. 

From hearing the guards talk, you knew that today was your trial. You were hoping that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to change your fate. That the King was still the man that you had fallen in love with. That he was still the man that you had children with. That he was still the man who would stand between the heavens and earth to see you smile. 

There was a knock on the door pulling you out of your thoughts. You stood up, smoothing your hands over your black dress, trying your best to collect yourself. 

“Come in,” You said softly. Your voice felt rough from the days of not speaking. 

The head guard, Sir Anthony walked in through the door, a grim look on his face. You felt your legs begin to shake, and bile rise in your throat. You didn’t even need to be told, it was written clearly on his face. Swallowing, you nodded your head, giving him the go-ahead to tell you the news from the Castle. Sir Anthony sighed, pulling the scroll in his hands, and sparing you a glance before reading the script. A single tear fell down your face as you fell to your knees. 

“No Queen had ever been put to death in Brinefell.”  

Well, that was once true.

taglist: @cherrycola27 @Itsmytimetodream @yanna-banana @laneylovesglen @dempy @elijahmikaelsonbitch @desert-fern @callsignharper @prettiewittie @hangmanscoming @damrlova @captainmoonknight @jazminlahey20 @Bradshawseresinbabe @rebellionofthetoys

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note: if your name is crossed out, it's because I can't tag you. Two lets play a game on how many references to other shows and moves I make in each chapter

#top gun #top gun AU #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick AU #Jake seresin #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin x y/n #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin AU #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman AU #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #court of thieves

[thejediscrolls]

You Drew Stars

Hunter x Jedi reader

Mess around and find out.

Angst

Pt 10 to You Drew Stars

“We’re almost there.” Tech’s voice rang out through the otherwise silent cockpit as he exited hyperspace.

Hunter glanced up from sharpening his knife and took in the view of the large planet. The world seemed flush with life as mountains rose and trees filled the land. You wouldn’t think that this world would have a secret lab conducting unlawful experiments with kidnapped clone troopers… Clearly the perfect choice for the empire to set up such a dangerous operation.

“We will have approximately three minutes when I land to get inside without being detected by security.” Tech stated once again.

“Got it.” Hunter put the storm trooper helmet on that Rex obtained for them.

He already didn’t like the way the suit fit him or how it was a lot less mobile then the uniform he used to wear when he was fighting for the republic… How times have changed.

“Wrecker, make sure you get the ship somewhere inconspicuous and wait for our signal… And it all else fails… Do what you do best.” Tech stated.

He then motioned for Wrecker to take the controls as soon as he landed the ship near one of the secret entrances to the mountain.

“Let’s go.” Hunter stated.

Echo and Tech followed behind him, each wearing an identical storm trooper outfit to Hunter’s. They remained quiet and vigilant as they entered the mountain and made their way up one of the ventilation shafts.

When Echo peaked his head out and saw that the coast was clear, they exited the vent and began pretending as if they belonged there.

The three stayed clear of any suspicious personnel that could blow their cover as they made their way to the level that they were keeping clone troopers.

“Up ahead and to the right.” Tech voice spoke through their personal comms.

They entered the room and was met by rows of multiple clone troopers being held against their will.

“He should be in one of these cells.” Echo said as they began their search.

Each cell was met by another familiar face, but none with the signature crosshair tattoo and permanent scowl.

…

“Can I come with you? Please? I can’t just sit here waiting a moment longer. I’ll go crazy.” Omega pleaded with Phee as she was boarding her ship.

“I know, but your brothers insisted that you stay here and I didn’t expect an urgent call from Sid. It should only take half a day tops and I’ll be back for dinner alright?” Phee tried to say.

“See! You said it yourself. Only half a day tops which means I should be able to go with you!” Omega begged and the look in her big eyes that quickly made Phee fold.

With a sigh, Phee motioned for the young girl to follow her, “Alright, but you have to listen to everything I say. Promise?”

Omega nodded eagerly as she strapped herself in the copilots seat, “Promise.”

“And I expect to get one of those smoothies that you and Wrecker have been making.” Phee said with a small grin.

Omega crossed her heart, “As soon as we get back I promise to make you one.”

…

“Do you think he might be on another level? Did we miss something?” Hunter asked as he looked into another cell.

Each cell they past left an empty feeling in each of their hearts. One, that their clone brethren were locked up and two, because their brother was nowhere to be found. The image of what has become of their brothers in arms have left a permanent scar in their minds.

Tech shook his head, “Negative. All clones have been stationed here in this cell block.”

“But he’s not just any type of clone.” Hunter shook his head, “They could have transferred him somewhere else.”

“I highly doubt that. He has to be here. There is no other place where he could be.” Tech urged as they moved forward.

“I’m going to check the layout and see if there’s a turn up ahead.” Tech looked at his data pad following behind Echo and Hunter.

“Let’s not give up just yet. We’ll keep searching until we find him.” Echo said with certainty laced in his voice.

…

“What did Sid say that she needs to talk about anyways?” Omega wondered as she swung her legs.

“Don’t know.” Phee shrugged, keeping her eyes on the stars while she flew her ship, “She just said that it was important. Maybe if we’re lucky enough, it’ll be another treasure hunt.”

“Oo!” Omega’s eyes lit up, “We haven’t gone in one of those in a while! That would be fun and I’m sure my mo-” Omega suddenly stopped swinging her feet as her happy expression fell realizing she caught herself forgetting again.

“I lost my mom when I was young too.” Phee mentioned when the silence grew heavy, “She was an amazing women. The best treasure hunter in the entire galaxy and one day… Something went wrong and I never saw her again.” Phee spoke gently, “It’s the memories that you have that counts so don’t be sad. Be proud.”

Omega nodded, “I just… I feel that she’s still here with us somehow.”

“I feel like that about my mom too.” Phee said.

Omega fell back into her seat, leaning her head against the headrest, “She would have liked a treasure hunt.”

Phee smiled softly, “I’m sure she would have.”

…

They were cutting it close as their pace quickened with each turn. They knew that it was only a matter of time before storm troopers will be poking their heads around the corner and figuring out they weren’t actually one of them.

This whole mission was dangerous and yet none of them would turn back. Not if it meant saving their brother.

“There!” Echo quickly pointed towards one of the last few cells.

Hunter let out a breath of relief as the three of them ran up to the cell.

There they found Crosshair, barely moving on the ground with bruises swelling over his skin. It looked like he had been through hell…

What happened to him? Hunter thought as Tech quickly got to work on disarming the cell shield.

“None of the others look as bad as he does.” Echo mentioned what Hunter was just thinking, “They wouldn’t have done this to just any clone… There must have been a reason…”

Hunter and Tech both nodded in agreement.

“Maybe because of Omega?” Hunter questioned.

“That is highly plausible. The cell should be open… Now.” Tech stated and suddenly the shield vanished.

Hunter and Tech quickly made their way to help their brother up as Echo stood guard.

“Crosshair.” Tech gently shook his brothers arm and doing a quick scan to check his vitals.

To that touch, Crosshair reached up and held his brother’s arm in his own death grip.

“Don’t touch her.” Crosshair growled before he fell unconscious again.

“Her?” Tech furrowed his brows underneath the helmet, “Crosshair, who are you talking about?”

“What does he mean by her?” Echo asked as he glanced towards the three in the cell.

“I don’t know, but we have to go. We’ll ask him later.” Hunter shook his head before helping Tech lift their brother in their arms.

“Echo, we need to get to a database. Rex requested we obtain all information about Project Light.” Hunter ordered and as quickly as he was trained to do, Echo tracked down where they needed to be.

“You need… Go…” Crosshair was once again fading in and out of consciousness as he muttered each word, “In… Trouble…”

“We’ll go soon, brother.” Hunter tried to console his brother as they entered a room filled with computer systems, “Just hold on a bit longer.”

Echo quickly inserted himself into the data base and began searching for the proper file that he needed.

Suddenly they were sealed shut inside the room as red lights and a loud alarm started blaring throughout the base.

“I think they suspect we are here.” Tech stated as a matter of fact.

Echo, Tech, and Hunter took off their helmets.

Hunter sighed, “Didn’t notice.”

Hunter looked to Echo with urgency, “Echo where are we at with those files?”

“Almost there.” Echo muttered without looking away from the screen, “You just need to buy me some time.”

…

“Come on. Up out of your seat little copilot.” Phee patted Omega’s shoulder as soon as she landed the ship.

The two were off the ramp and heading towards Sid’s bar without a worry in their mind, save for the boys of course. They both only wished that they would come back safe and sound with Crosshair.

“Oddly quiet tonight.” Phee remarked as she noticed the streets were pretty bare, unlike what she was used to seeing.

“I’m going to head to Sol and grab some cakes for my brothers if that’s okay?” Omega asked.

Phee nodded her head, not seeing the harm in it, “Sure thing. Grab me a snack while your at it too. Something fruity.” Phee smiled as she pulled out some credits and handed them to the girl.

Omega nodded her head and took off, leaving Phee to continue the rest of the way to Sid’s.

“Hey Sid!” Phee called out the the older woman as soon as she stepped into the bar.

It only occurred to her then that the place was empty also and a unwanted feeling began to make its way through her chest, sending pulses to her brain that told her to run.

“I’m sorry, but I need to know where the kid is Phee.” Sid appeared from her office, followed by two storm troopers, a short man in a coat and…

“You…” Phee’s eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

The cloaked woman’s body was covered by a black coat with a hood to conceal her face.

Phee held her breath as she waited for the mysterious form to reveal themselves. Slowly, the figure pulled the hood down with a metal arm to reveal a face that confirmed Phee’s gut feeling.

Phee breathed out in disbelief and happiness, “You’re alive.”

It was the man in the coat that spoke next.

“My name is Dr. Hemlock. Sid here told us all about you and how much you love treasure.” He threw a bag onto a nearby bar table and the remnants inside revealed jewels that she has never even seen before, “I know you are a smart woman and you don’t want to be caught up in this mess so be a dear and tell us where Omega is.”

Phee glanced at the bag intently. She slowly looked at the Jedi who had a glazed look over her eyes as if she wasn’t even present.

“What did you do to her?” Phee glared at the doctor.

“Don’t mind your friend, she wouldn’t even remember you even if you tried to tell her.” Hemlock waved his arm and without a second thought, the General ignited her lightsaber.

“Now. I am pretty sure I have made us a fair trade here.” Hemlock said and this time his voice was far from kind, “Tell me where the girl is.”

…

Hunter could hear footsteps quickly approaching them. He placed the rest of Crosshair’s weight to Tech before he smashed the key code to enter the room.

“That should buy us some time, but not a lot.” Hunter stated, but with a less than confident look as the banging continued outside of the door.

“Hunter…” Echo’s voice was oddly quiet as he stared at the screen in front of him.

“What?” Hunter turned to look in Echo’s direction.

He didn’t like the way that Echo looked up as if he had just seen a ghost.

“What is it?” Hunter repeated, his voice snipped as he waited for Echo to give him an answer.

“It’s.. It’s the general…” Echo took a pause to collect himself, “She’s still alive.”

…

Omega felt herself slow her run as she reached the Sol cafe. The lights had been shattered inside, leaving the cafe as dark as the street outside.

“Omega?” A familiar voice called out to her.

She hasn’t heard it in quite a while, but the waiter poked his head out from behind a booth with wide blue eyes, “What are you doing here?” Indul asked.

Omega rushed to him, wincing as she saw the deep gash that scarred his right leg.

“Are you alright? What happened to you?” She asked as she looked around at the destroyed restaurant.

“I don’t know who they are… There was one one… Black robe, they wore a hood and wielded a lightsaber. They killed Jun.” He pointed shakily to the kitchen.

He looked up panicked and scared, “They came in here looking for you Omega… You need to run. Get away as far from here as you can.” He struggled to talk through the steering pain, but the urgency was president in his voice.

Her hands hovered over his wound, not sure of what to do, “I can find Phee and she can help you.” Omega said as she stood.

“I don’t need any help.” Indul shook his head with a sigh, “But you can’t go out there by yourself.” Indul struggled to stand, “I’ll go with you.”

Omega immediately shook her head and gently sat him back down, “I’ll be fine, you need to stay still.”

“Mary is grabbing some medical supplies for my leg.” Indul assured as he placed his hand on top of hers, “Go… And may the force be with you.”

…

“Tick tok.” Dr. Hemlock spoke in a bored tone as he glanced at his watch.

“I won’t.” Phee shook her head as she took a step back and crossed her arms, “I don’t know how many pirates you’ve come across, but I ain’t one of them.”

Hemlock sighed, “I really hoped that you would have been more easily suaded like your dear friend Sid here, but I suppose it can never be that easy twice, can it?” Hemlock motioned to his new toy, “Kill her and find the girl.”

The Jedi stepped forward, a murderous look in her gaze as she lifted her lightsaber.

Phee raised her hands up, “You don’t have to do this. Please.” She said as she took a few steps back, the jedi matching with a step of her own.

Suddenly the doors to the cantina swung open and two cans of smoke rolled through the doors.

“Hurry!” Omega shouted to Phee who took no time in following the young girl out the door.

The two bolted down the street as they headed straight for their ship.

“How did they find us?” Omega asked.

“Sid sold you out kid!” Phee said as they ran.

“What? No. That can’t be!” Omega yelled shocked.

“We’ll talk about it later, this way!” Phee yelled as they took a right.

They were almost to their ship when suddenly large rubble and stone broke from a building, sealing their path shut. As they turned they could see the glowing purple from a lightsaber.

“Who is that?” Omega asked as she squinted at the cloaked figure.

“It’s…” Before Phee could answer, Omega was falling to the ground in a heavy sleep.

As Phee looked up in shock, she watched her old friend wave her hand and in a second she was out like a light.

…

“What do you mean?” Hunter’s voice was cold.

He could quiet literally hear his heart beat loudly in his eardrums blocking out the banging on the locked door as he stared at the screen that showed the very being he couldn’t live without.

He could see her face, void of any emotion as she stared at whoever had taken the photo. Her scanner showed active on the screen with the word successful project written in the top right corner of her file. His mind was racing with confusion as he tried to piece together what could have happened to her during these last few months…

The pain she must have endured. That thought alone sent a knife through his heart.

“She must have been alive when… They took her.” Echo muttered as he glanced at his brother’s reaction, “She must be who Crosshair was trying to protect…”

“Alive?” Tech echoed the word as Crosshair leaned into his side. He kept a tight grip on his brother to keep him balanced, but that didn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat, “She was alive and I left her.”

Hunter’s fury laced in his bones as he ripped the frame piece from piece. His voice roared through the sealed room as he ripped through everything he could find. Echo, Tech and Crosshair stood against one of the walls as they watched Hunter mentally loose himself. They listened to the sound of the shields disappearing in the next room, letting them know that Hunter had just inadvertently released the clones being held hostage.

“We left her.” Hunter’s voice was barely a whisper.

He headed straight to the sealed door that now opened up to the stormtroopers on the other side. Each swift movement, each yell gave way to a storm trooper falling to the ground until Hunter stood above them remaining victorious and blinded by rage.

His brothers slowed stepped to the entrance of the room, watching their brother with concern.

Hunter stood there, unmoving as each clone warily stepped out of their cells.

“Burn this place to the ground.” Venom laced his voice and fire filled his eyes as the sirens blared and the battle cries of his brethren rang out through the halls.

“We’re bringing her home.” Was Hunter’s final words as he grabbed his blaster and led his brother’s back to the Marauder.

Just hold out for me a little longer mesh’la, I’m coming for you.

Taglist

@dragonrider9905 @sarahskywalker-amadala @spacebaby1 @cocolinagoodnight @that-one-potato-girl @originalcollectionartistry @arctrooper69 @brynhildrmimi @ttzamara @fandomtrashwhore @i-just-like-to-read @kanakarbakar @dramamouse-blog @quince-xd @sunshinesdaydream @dangraccoon @solstraalaa@darkangel4121 @curious-cat-10-6 @dollyniini @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @red-plaidedandcladed @eternalwaffles @thesirenscallmelo @idoubleswearimawriter @nerdyglasess @nick-djarin @mysticcreatorfox @aeryntheofficial @originalcollectionartistry @elp-art @sunipostsstuff @andrakass2 @dangraccoon @motte-the-goblin @the1sunshine1girl @endofthexline @dalu-grantkylo @not-reilly @leafyturtle @waytoooldforthis78 @immarriedtorex @kixismybestfriend @endofthexline @pheesupremacy @kittykatslender @gisselleherrerasposts @onyxtides @techmexicanvieja @dalu-grantkylo

#star wars #star wars imagine #starwars #clone wars #bad batch #star wars x reader #bad batch imagine #bad batch x reader #starwars imagines #crosshair #hunter #hunter x reader angst #bad batch hunter #tbb hunter #hunter angst #tbb hunter angst #hunter fluff #hunter x you #hunter x reader

[pebblethestone]

Fading Life ¹`¹

Crosshair x reader

Type - sort of modern Zombie AU

Masterlist

Fading Life Masterlist

Summary - finding food and running into a child by herself

Words - 2580

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Looking around the abandoned shop, walking down an aisle with unwanted toys, going towards where the till is seeing painkillers and all sorts of medicines, keeping awareness of your surroundings as you move towards it jumping over the counter onto the other side. Sliding your bag off your Shoulder opening it and stuffing the stuff inside, you had already grabbed the cans of food you had found as well.

Stopping what you're doing you move towards the ground and behind a counter as you hear groaning, moving your head to peak over the corner, heading towards your direction it must have heard you while you were just stuffing the stuff in your bag as you swear to yourself. Grabbing your bow as you stand back up then grabbing an arrow to hold in place, pulling the string back and shouting it down, watching as it falls to the ground. Jumping back over the counter to retrieve your arrow from the dead.

Looking towards the window seeing it getting darker, you should head somewhere safer than this place. Heading towards the entrance of the shop you had come through, looking around deciding what part of the forest you should rest in this time, looking to the right it did look promising to say the least.

Looking around the forest seeing a decent-looking tree you start climbing it, breaking some of the lower branches, as you keep climbing getting closer to the centre of the tree where it splits leaving space for you to sit on grabbing the rope on your bag as you tie your bag onto the tree, taking another rope and Connecting it to your harness, you had found it in a house and took it just in case it came in handy which it has.

The sun had set taking the thin sleeping bag from the bottom of your bag as you fit into it, it was getting colder, you needed to find somewhere safer and warmer before it got too cold, and you needed to stock up on food and somewhere that has water. Feeling yourself drift off as you close your eyes.

--

Eyes snapping open hearing birds sing and the sun out lighting up the forest, Take a look around as you untie your bag back the tree taking out a tin of food, Turning it around to read the label 'Spaghetti-O' as you make a little face opening it as you grab your spoon you had and started to eat it after you had finished throwing the can off the tree and then taking your water bottle out of your bag and drinking some of it before putting it back. Untiring the rope from your harness put it back into the bag and put it on.

Looking around to make sure it was clear before you started to climb back down the tree, it looked to be clear. Moving so you can climb down as you get closer to the bottom you stop to check your surroundings again before jumping down safely, readjusting your bag and making sure that it's secure you head out of the forest.

Seeing a road up ahead deciding if you should check them out or not, might as well. Moving towards one of the cars again looking around before you open one of the doors, looking inside seeing a bag in the back seat, opening the back door of the car as its alarm starts to go off.

“Shit,” you say to yourself as you open the open widen and grab the bag opening it to so what's inside as you only see a child's toy and book, well that seems to have gone well, hasn't it. Moving away from the car as it continues its loud beeping sounds and gets farther and further away, your eyes land on some smoke in the distance, should you go and check it out, would they be friends? I mean you've got nothing to lose might as well check it out.

Getting closer to the smoke, it's in the forest you'll have to be very careful, being quiet as you can you start heading in the direction of the smoke you had seen getting closer you see a little girl sitting next to the fire she seems to be by herself, taking some steps closer, one of you shoes landing on a twig making a loud snapping sound. Watching the girl look up as your eyes make contact 'fuck' she's going to run now.

“wait! Wait am not here to hurt you” you say as her big eyes look at you, she seems unsure as you take steps closer towards her as she moves back.

“Look, am just as scared as you are, how about we try and get to know one another?? Mmm, how does that sound?” you say as she looks unsure but nods her head anyway, moving towards her as you take a seat next to the fire. The girl looking at you with curiosity as she takes a seat on the ground across from you, she does look like she needs some food. Taking off your bag you grab a rundown can of food you had and put it next to her. Watching her look at you before she takes it and opens it. Your eyes move to the fire and watch as it dances.

“Thank you! Am Omega, what's your name?” you hear from beside you, she is quiet you don't even hear her move as you look down at her.

“Well Am Y/n, you're quite young to be on your own aren't you?” you say to her as you frown watching as she continues to eat the canned food before putting it down and looking at you.

“I lost my brothers, we got separated on a road by a heard of walkers, but I found an old cabin in the woods be staying there since” You felt bad for the girl as you got a closer look at her, she had short blond hair, tan skin and brown eyes. You've never heard them be called walkers before as you had called them the dead.

“how about I help you find your brothers, it would be safer with them than being on your own,” you say to her as you stand up looker towards the sky to see how bright it is, the sun still high the sky as you look back down as Omega.

“I have you and you seem to know what you're doing,” she says to you, your eyes widen at what she says not expecting her to trust you so easily, she seems smart already knowing her for a little while.

“You shouldn't trust someone so easily Omega. but we do need to get going somewhere safe before it gets dark” you say to her as she looks at this her big eyes as she head turns to the side.

“what about going to that cabin I was at? I know where it is” she says to you as you nod your head at her, you didn't think of that and a plus she knows where it is. This could be a perfect place to settle during the winter.

“well then you should lead the way then, we can get settled for the night get to know one another and then we can figure out how to find your brothers,” you say to her as she gets up from where she is sitting. The fair was still going, stomping at it to let it out and kill the fire so no one would go towards the smoke.

“yeah, that sounds good,” she says as she starts walking off you walk next to her, keeping your eyes sharp and listening to the sounds around you. As you continue to walk you put your arm out front of Omega to stop her, grabbing your bow seeing a rabbit run by, something to eat. Watching the rabbit as it stops to eat some grass you ready your bow. Your eyes moving to Omega.

“Turn around, Omega it'll be fast” you whisper to her watching her turn her head as you grab an arrow putting it onto the bow and letting it go as quickly as you could watching as it hit the rabbit killing it instantly. Moving from where you were you go over to the now-dead rabbit pick it up and take the arrow out of it.

“Do you know how far we have to you Omega?” you ask her Turing looks at her as she looks at with a nod of her head.

“We are not too far I think only around ten minutes till we get there,” she says as she takes the lead and you next to her. Walking towards a path, guessing this is the way towards the cabin, it sure looks like it.

“We haven't got far now” you hear her speak up taking you out of your head, Turning your head a little to look at her she looks innocent and looks like her brothers looked after her as best as they could.

“All alright, when we get there, we can eat that rabbit, alright” you say to her her eyes sparkling seems like she hasn't had a warm dinner for a while giving her a small smile.

You come up to a small cabin after a while it wasn't too big or too small, looking at it looked like it had a chimney good for a fire to keep warm the windows do need to be boarded up though it would be safer. Omega walks ahead of you as she enters the cabin and you follow after her it looks to be abandoned and dusty, some cans of food have been opened you guess that was Omega when must be hungry.

“Right then, I start getting this food ready and you can rest You had a long day” you say seeing the cabin had a kitchen wow this place seems too good to be true placing the rabbit on the counter and looking around again there's a bunk bed and a couch seems good so far. Watching as Omega climbs the ladders up to the top bunk as she flops down with a small sigh. You get rid of your bag on your back dumping it onto the floor.

Turning back around as you start to skin the rabbit and get it ready to eat cutting out all the unwanted parts that you didn't see fit to eat carrying on what you doing looking outside and seeing it was starting to get dark but you were almost finished.

You take a look in the cupboards to find any type of pan to cook it on, and finding one you take it out and onto the counter at least you won't have to stick it on a stick now you can just cook it over the fire build into the cabin. Taking all the pieces of rabbit that you had cut up that looked edible put them into the pan, putting it on top of the fireplace before leaving.

Walking over towards the fireplace you take a look at it to see if it is useable, and it does look useable and it's a wood fire, looking over to Omega seeing that she's already fast asleep you move to the door opening it, it's not too dark yet looking back over at Omega to check on her as you step out the door.

Scanning around the outside of the cabin you see some logs they do look a little damp but it's something to work with, picking up two of the logs and dump them at the door of the cabin before going into the woods and picking up dried-up moss and twigs, the thing that you've gathered enough you go back to the cabin, opening the door dropping the stuff on the floor going back to grab the logs outside and locking the door putting a chair in front of it.

“what are you doing?” you hear from the top of the bunk bed as you turn your head to look at her.

“making a fire so we can keep warm and so we'll be able to cook some food,” you say watching as she climbs down the ladder walking down to you. As you start to make the fire it would be easy to light when you did so.

“You know I think my brother, like like you” you hear her say as you raise your brow at her turning your head the the side a little.

“hmm, how so?” you ask curiosity at what she means by what she had said.

“Well first off you know what you're doing, second you're good with a bow and how you decided to look after me,” she says as she now sits next to you as you grab your lighter from your pocket you're surprised at how long it's lasted oh well. Grabbing the dry moss you try and light it.

“Well, I don't think your brothers would take kind to strangers, taking their sister, right?” you say to her as you Success in light the moss watching it burn placing it into the fire gently so it wouldn't go out and so it would light the rest of the stuff in the fireplace.

“Well you didn't take me, I agreed to stay with you, because you were nice to me. Am sure my brothers will like you, if they don't I'll make them,” you chuckle a little at what she says watching as the fire goes up looking good.

“I guess, right then let's start making this food shall we?” you say as you grab the pan from the top of the fireplace and place it into the fire so it would cook the rabbit

After the rabbit had been cooked you and looked like it wouldn't poison you hopefully you take the pan out of the fire and put it on the floor Omega watching every single thing that you're doing gets up as you walk over to the cupboards looking through them grabbing 2 small plates and going back over to Omega sitting down next to her.

Picking up the rabbit bits with your hand as you break them in half to check if it's cooked through which it has been as you do that with the rest of them splitting it between the both of you giving the girl a little more than yourself. You then hand the plate over to Omega and she takes it from your hand carefully.

“Thank you Y/n i haven't had food that's been warm for a while,” she says as she starts to eat the rabbit and you do the same.

“It's no problem Omega, your first person I've talked to in a while I suppose,” you say giving her a small smile look towards the window it was dark now and it's best to have a good sleep while you still can, both of you finish the food.

“do you think we'll find my brothers” you hear from beside you as she looks at you with big eyes.

“Am not sure but there's always a chance Omega and they could be looking for you too,” you say to her to get her hopes up you didn't want to say there's a really small chance of that happening.

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Next Part

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#x reader #reader #twd #tbb #tbb x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb tech #tech #hunter #tbb hunter #echo #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb omega #omega x #AU #au #zombie au #twd au