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milliedazzledust · 3 years

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Even When It Hurts (Clark Kent imagine)

Request by @icyhollands : Clark comforting the reader after she got hurt by someone pretty badly, and him comforting her from a anxiety attack after she gets hurt

Words: 2009

A/N: I know a lot of you were waiting for this so I’m sorry it took so long to write - thank you for your patience and I hope you’ll like it :)

“Clark, you need to come down, now!”

Flying across his enemies on the battlefield, he faintly heard the sound of a voice, even with the distance. As soon as Bruce had found the aliens associated with Darkseid, they had been quick to act and the whole team had made the trip to fight.

While the others were keeping most of their opponents on the ground, he had taken upon himself to divert their attention from the precious object they were trying to steal by attacking from the sky. Too focused on the task, he had missed Arthur and Y/N going after a bunch of them. When she had seen her friend in bad posture, she hadn’t hesitated to put herself between him and the alien, taking the full blast of his hit. Her body had flown across the field before landing on a large tree trunk, breaking it in half. Her vision had been blurred for a moment, too disoriented as her breath was knocked out of her by the hard impact. She hadn’t been fast enough to notice the monster running toward her until she had felt the pain. Arthur had come to her rescue and killed him, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

When she looked down, all she saw was the tip of the weapon he had used, the other half was deep in her side, buried between what she guessed was her ribs.

“Y/N’s been hit!” Arthur yelled as he grabbed her when she fell on her knees.

High above their heads, Clark looked down and quickly spotted the wounded woman. He wasted no time in making his way to her, sending some of the aliens flying with a flicker of his hand. When one of them launched at him, and conjuring up all his frustration and his anger, he punched him with a force that knocked him out instantly.

His eyes remained on her, always. He felt his heart clenched when he saw pain twisting her features and instantly understood the gravity of her situation. She was holding onto Arthur, clutching her side, holding the weapon steady in her flesh. Fear is all he could feel when he landed on the ground, staring at the large gash of blood around her wound. He could even hear her heartbeat getting faster by the second.

Furrowing his brows in concern, he kneeled in front of her and grabbed her face. For a second he just studied her, softly brushing a tear with his thumb, until his eyes landed on hers.

“How bad is it ?” She asked him, her voice a weak whisper.

“You’re gonna be fine” He assured her.

“You’re a terrible liar, Clark” She tried to smile but even that simple movement seemed too much in her state.

She knew if she didn’t feel a thing yet it was purely because of the adrenaline. Tiny little molecules running through her veins, urging her body to fight back, to survive and fix what the foreign object had torn. She could sense fluid pouring out of her injury, the hand clutching her side was already covered in red. She was waiting for the moment the hormone would stop working and she would feel like a bomb had exploded inside of her.

She closed her eyes and a sob escaped her mouth. Her breathing was getting irregular and she was losing her grip. She was exhausted.

“Y/N, stay with me” The superhero tried to motivate her, slowly shaking her head. “Show me those pretty eyes”

She was starting to lose consciousness, and that observation alone terrified him. He kissed her forehead in a sign of encouragement and laid his hand over hers so she wouldn’t let go. She cried out in pain and glanced down. It only took a couple seconds before he was covered in blood as well. He pursed his lips, forcing himself to keep his eyes on hers and not look at the wound. His face was betraying him and he wasn’t even aware of it. She could so easily see the reflection of his own fear in his gaze, the depiction of worry over his features that she lazily traced with her fingers. The shadow of a smile appeared on her lips knowing only she could read him like an open book.

“It’s alright, baby” He comforted her.

“You should work on your poker face” She tried to joke. She was glad it made him smirk.

He turned his head toward Arthur, still holding the woman’s body.

“We’re gonna lay her down” He told him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” Y/N warned him, grabbing his biceps to stop him.

“Do you trust me ?” He muttered, stroking her cheek.

“You know I do”

“Then trust me”

She faintly nodded and let the men handle her wounded body. Arthur was behind her, holding on her shoulders, and Clark was in front of her, one hand on her wound, the other behind her neck. As gently as they could, they started to rotate her. Clark never moved his gaze away from hers, not even when her hand gripped his shoulder in pain or when her tears flowed freely as the pain started to become unbearable.

The moment her head touched the ground, she began to cough blood. Her eyes widened at the realization and her heartbeat hastily palpitated.

“We’re alright” He reassured her.

“We’re alright” She repeated in a whisper. She could no longer focus on anything around her. Anxiety was creeping up and threatening to take over. She knew it would do no good but she couldn’t stop it. Her hand tightly clutched the fabric of her man’s costume and her chest started to rise more rapidly as bile rose in her throat.

“Clark” She called for help in a single breath.

“I’m here, baby. I’m not leaving your side”

He wiped the blood on her mouth with his finger.

“You and I have a date tomorrow, remember ?” He spoke, smiling when she faintly nodded. “So you’re not allowed to fall asleep. I haven’t even introduce you to my terrible cooking yet”

Her laugh started a coughing fit, bringing more blood out of her mouth.

“I have to take it out, Y/N” He said more seriously, motioning to the weapon in her body.

Her eyes widened in panic and she shook her head, ignoring the pain.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, beautiful. I’ve got you”

“A .. plan ?” She asked.

“Yes, I do have a plan” He understood her question. “But you’re not going to like it”

“Tell me” She murmured.

“You’re hemorrhaging,” He explained. “If we let it in, you’re risking an infection”

“And if you take it out, I’ll bleed out” She weakly responded.

“Not if I cauterize the wound”

“How ?”

She understood the moment she saw his eyes flashing red. She gulped, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

“I trust you” She repeated the words she had said already.

He nodded and gave her one last encouraging smile before motioning for Arthur to come closer. He explained his plan in a hurry before standing up, letting the King of Atlantis take his place.

“Ready ?” He questioned the woman.

“Do it” She said, clenching her teeth.

She averted her gaze toward Clark, mouthing one last ‘I love you’ before Arthur pulled out the weapon in a very fast movement and held her down. Superman’s eyes immediately started glowing and he directed his heat vision to the open wound. The moment the high temperature laser touched her skin, she screamed in agony. A horrible, searing pain suddenly invaded her body and she was convinced she was going to die right there. She felt the urge to get away from the source but Arthur had a good grip on her. She kept shouting, as if it would ease the burning sensation. Clark’s jaw tightened and a tear rolled down his cheek, hating to be the one causing her pain.

After only a couple of seconds, she could no longer handle the torture and lost consciousness. The superhero stopped his ministration when he was sure the wound was closed properly and no blood was leaking anymore. Ignoring the smell of burned skin, he silently picked her up in his arms, listening closely to her heartbeats to make sure she was alright.

“I��ve got her” He told Arthur before bolting in the air.

She woke up hours later in a bed, completely disoriented. It took her a solid minute to recognize Clark’s bedroom inside the Kent farmhouse. She felt a throbbing ache on her side and muffled a scream when she touched it. When she looked down, she realized Clark had taken off her suit and had replaced it with one of his shirts. She lifted it to inspect the damage but all there was left of her wound was a small scar made by the man she loved. She shuddered at the memory and swung her legs off the bed. The moment her feet touched the ground, her body crumbled and she lost her balance. A pair of strong arms caught her before she could injure herself.

“You’ve not healed yet” A voice scolded her.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes closed, she let her head fall on his chest and circled his waist, squeezing him in a tight embrace that she so desperately needed. He was her safe line when she was spiraling down, which was happening now that she remembered she had almost lost him.

“How are you feeling ?” He inquired, kissing her head

“Alive” She replied. “I got … I really got scared for a minute”

She brushed a tear and tried to stop the hurricane of negative thoughts hitting her. He felt it too when her body started shaking and ran a hand on her back to calm her down.

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you” He swore, holding back the anxiety creeping in. “And I hope you know I won’t let you out of my sight for at least a week”

She knew it was his way of lightening the mood when he could feel her darkness hovering above both of their heads. He had a way of guessing when it was coming and always reacted quickly, diverting her attention to anything else but her mind playing games.

“Do I, at least, get to spend that week in your arms ?” She smirked, raising her head so only her chin was resting on his chest.

“I have conditions” He replied with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

“Name it”

She saw the change in his attitude and tilted her head in confusion when he took a step back. Cupping her face with both his hands, he stared deeply at her. She could see his quiet emotion through the way his eyes bore into hers, his fear and his devotion.

“Never say I love you like it’s the last time I’ll ever get to hear it” He told her, his lips quivering as a shaky breath escaped his mouth.

Instead of answering, she led him to the bed behind them and together they laid down. He pulled her close and she raised her head until her lips found his. She didn’t need words when she could condensed a million loving thoughts into this moment. The emotion of that kiss alone spoke volume. A simple gesture that meant ‘you’re my home and I won’t leave’

“I love you, Clark”

She repeated the words again and again, making him laugh with happiness. He tightened his hold around her waist until she was almost laying on his chest. Her ear against his heart, she listened with a smile and closed her eyes, soothed by the steady rhythm.

“Thank you” She whispered after a while.

“What for ?”

“Bringing my head and soul back home to you when they get lost”

“Always” He promised.

Her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, she kissed his cheek and peacefully fell asleep in his protective embrace.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent imagines #clark kent fanfiction #superman #superman x reader #superman x you #superman imagine #superman imagines #superman fanfiction

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imagine-nation20 · 3 years

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Sunshine and The Art of Picking Your Battles

Summary: “I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.”

Requested By: Anon

Request: “I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.” for Jason Todd (with the reader being kidnapped by any villain you want)

A/N: Jason Todd will forever and always be the best robin and I will not take criticism. Also I love writing established relationship with superheroes where one doesn’t know the other is a vigilante, so enjoy some reader having no sense of self preservation, and Jason outing himself as the red hood.

~~~

You hated Gotham. Or rather, you hated the criminal underbelly of Gotham, which wasn’t so much an underbelly as it was a very obvious toupee on the top of the head of the city. Gotham was built on crime, and it would probably crumble under the weight of crime. Most people who lived there were either involved in crime, or involved in the vigilante justice served by the masked crusaders.

Running a bar in Gotham was bad, running a bar in the crummy part of Gotham was worse. That is, if you could claim any part of Gotham wasn’t crummy.

Still, it was a better job than some of the other options. Who could blame the owner of the place appointing you manager and fucking off to his apartment in the only part of Gotham that could afford working deadbolts.

So it was no wonder that you got jumped on your way home after a particularly grueling shift.

Three men dressed in suits too nice for the area. It was pretty much common sense to learn some form of self defense if you were going to live in a city like Gotham, however, three against one wasn’t exactly fair odds.

They tied your wrists, dropped a bag over your head, and then hit you with something heavy and blunt that was probably going to leave permanent damage.

Waking up was a headache, to say the least. Your head pounded like a drum, the blood rushing through your ears sounding like the waves against the harbor. Or maybe that really was the harbor.

It didn’t really matter, because you had a bigger problem to worry about than whether or not the ‘whooshing’ in your ear was blood or water.

A man, dressed in an expensive suit, stood a few feet away. His head was covered in the dark, slightly shiny material of a mask, shaped like a skull. Beady eyes peered through, staring you down.

“So, what is a bartender like yourself doing associating with the Red Hood?” Roman Sionis was easily recognizable, and his identity was not a secret to the citizens of the city. He seemed almost proud to lord the fact that everyone knew who he was, but couldn’t put him away for anything tangible.

Unless of course that person was Batman or one of his many disciples.

“What the fuck are you on about?” You slurred. You cursed yourself internally for your inability to keep your mouth shut. Most of the time you were okay, but you were tired, and in pain, and this was the third time this week you had been assaulted, so you were over it. Criminals and crime lords were a dime a dozen, and despite his very intimidating reputation, you could not care less about Black Mask.

He laughed, and it almost sounded genuine, “I’m talking about the fact that I have on good word that Red Hood has been in your shitty little bar almost every night for the past week.”

You were going to kill Kallista.

You avoided associating with vigilantes, but your coworker, and the woman who worked most night to day shifts, was known for giving vigilantes free drinks when they dropped in. Now, it seemed you had been mistaken for her. Serves you right for having the audacity to pick up her shift when she was sick.

You had seen a few of them drop in on your way out, but never Red Hood. She probably told him not to catch you, since you would have reemed her for it. Red Hood wasn’t a criminal, but he was known for incurring their wrath like no one else, and that usually ended up in situations like this.

Yes, Kallista was going to die… so long as you made it out of this.

“Listen pal,” you started, glancing around the room for a way out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t a bad friend, and you certainly weren’t going to sick Roman Sionis on your friend. Even if she did get you in this situation in the first place.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He yelled, taking quick steps towards you. You winced back, hearing the flick of a switchblade, and feeling the cold press against your cheek.

“Listen, if I was associating with the Red Hood, I would have told you by now.”

“For some reason, I just don’t believe you.”

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,” A voice echoed through the warehouse. From above, you could see the familiar brown leather jacket, and bright red helmet of the Red Hood. He was reclined against a support beam, legs dangling off the one he was sitting on. “I’m going to be honest with you, I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.”

Hopping down from the beam, he landed, knees bent, feet light. It was almost impressive, the way he could silently drop. If you weren’t so tired, you might have taken the time to marvel at the way his pants bunched and stretched. Kallista was right after all, there was a certain appeal to the vigilantes in uniform.

Roman shifted around you, knife going to your neck. You took in a sharp breath, glaring at the Red Hood as he faltered in his pace.

“Take another step and she dies,”

“I was gonna say thanks for coming, Hood,” You glared, “but you’ve kinda made the situation worse.”

You could almost see the tick of annoyance through the mask. His fists clenching slightly, he grumbled, “This is the thanks I get?”

“I’ll thank you when I don’t have a knife to my jugular.”

Black Mask tightened his grip on you, knife digging in a slight bit. You didn’t think it had pierced skin yet, but you couldn’t be sure.

The next few seconds seemed to go by in an instant. The shattering of glass, the whizzing of something through the air, the knife nicked your neck, then was gone, and so was the grip of Roman Sionis.

Red Hood moved towards you, gloved hands untying the ropes that kept you bound to the chair. You looked to the side, seeing Black Mask passed out on the ground, a strange arrow sticking to the outside of his helmet. You could have sworn you saw little strings of electricity still moving over the black material.

The masked vigilante hoisted you from the chair, his arms slipping behind your back and beneath your knees.

“Seriously?” You deadpanned, “I can walk, you know. My legs aren’t broken.”

It didn’t seem like he cared, as he scoffed, “I still haven’t heard a thank you.”

“I didn’t think heroes were so egotistical.”

“Not really a hero, sunshine,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even through the strange effect his helmet gave off. You went stiff at the name.

Jason faltered mid step, and you knew you had him. Spewing a flurry of curses, you wriggled out of his hold and onto the gravel below. The rocks bit into your skin, and Jason moved to crouch and help, but you were already up and slapping at his arm.

“You son of a bitch, Jason,” you whisper shouted, “you’re so stupid. How long have you been the- no, I don’t want to know.”

“Sunshine-”

“Don’t you sunshine me, Todd,” you growled, “You didn’t think to tell me you were a fucking vigilante? And moreover, you were getting free drinks from my coworker while she ranted to me about your thighs?”

“What?” Jason asked, shaking his head. “No, no, I wasn’t… I was looking out for you! I was trying to make sure you got home safe! What about my thighs?”

You paused, mouth hanging open. You hadn’t known Jason for very long. He had come in during one of your shifts with a busted lip and a dazzling smile, and left with your number and the promise of a date. You should have guessed back then, if you were being honest, but you believed him when he said he had gotten jumped. Maybe he had been telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

Stalling so that you didn’t give in to his guilty look so easily, you glanced around. So it had been the ocean you were hearing. You turned back around, trying and failing to hold the vicious glare.

“You better have a ride back to my apartment, cause we are about to have a long talk about impulse control, honesty, and the art of picking battles.”

“You sound like my dad.”

Silence.

“OH MY GOD IS BRUCE WAYNE-”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd oneshot #jason todd fanfiction #dc

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evienyx · 3 years

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DSMP Citizens POV 2: The Prime Path Florist

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

There were many florists in the Dream SMP. With how much destruction there was, people were constantly having to rebuild their yards, and the gardens, and the planter pots that would rest outside of businesses, and so being a florist could result in a very successful business.

The Prime Path Florist had been there the longest.

Before even TommyInnit had arrived, the Prime Path Florist had settled down in the Dream SMP, creating a simple garden for themself and enjoying life with their cat, bees, and every flower known to man.

As the server's population grew, and the Prime Path truly came into being as the main way to get around, the Florist claimed a piece of land, built up a humble shop, and started their business.

While there was no competition at first, as the chaos and wars began to rage through the server, more and more businesses popped up offering services to help with rebuilding. One of these such businesses was the Greater SMP Flower Shop, who opened just after the end of the L'Manburg Revolution.

Then, when another, smaller war broke out across the server and the Greater SMP Flower Shop was destroyed, they didn't build it back.

That was where the Prime Path Florist beat out all of their competition. They would always rebuild, if they even had to. The one time damage had been caused to their shop, though, what they had done to the person who caused the damage made it so that everyone knew from then on to not mess with their flower shop.

(Then, eventually, the land that their shop was on accidentally became part of the Holy Land, and it didn't even matter anymore anyway, because nothing on the server could harm the Holy Land.)

Out of all the leaders of the SMP, the first that the Prime Path Florist met was Nihachu, a resident of L'Manburg who was known to be close friends with the president.

"Good morning," Nihachu said when the Florist first met her. "How are you doing?"

"Well, and you?"

"Great! I'm just looking for some flowers to brighten up my bakery!"

"Of course. What kind of flowers are you looking for?"

Nihachu (Niki, she had insisted quickly) had left that day with arms full of white mullein. The next morning, the Florist had opened the door to find a package sitting inside, filled to the brim with baked goods.

The Florist had no idea how Niki Nihachu had gotten the things inside.

The door had been locked all night.

As the L'Manburg election loomed ever closer, it felt as though tensions were rising throughout the server. The Prime Path Florist was fine, though. Their shop was safe, and business was good as the pavilion and stage were set up for the day when the results would be released.

They turned off the public announcements on their communicator as the day of the results arrived. They didn't care to hear about politics. They just wanted to sell some flowers.

The day after the election, the Prime Path Florist was on their way to their shop when they saw VP Tommy running down the back roads that they took to work every day, what looked to be a piglin-hybrid in tow.

All three of them stopped. The stranger's hand floated to their side, hovering over the hilt of an iron sword, which looked like it had been hastily wrapped.

Then, the Prime Path Florist gave the teenager a nod. "Vice President," they said, greeting him the politest way they knew how to.

VP Tommy smiled a little too wide, and glanced at his companion before shooting off down the path again, not even acknowledging the Florist as he passed.

(Later that day, when a customer off-handedly mentioned that Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit had been banished by Schlatt, the new president, the Florist realized that the teen had thought that they had been telling him that they supported him.)

(The Florist shrugged.)

(They didn't care much for politics, anyway.)

Still, customers began coming into the shop more and more frequently (more than usual, at least, especially during a time without too much destruction), and they would lean across the counter and whisper about news from a place called 'Pogtopia.'

When the Prime Path Florist found out that it was the name of a rebellion, fighting against Manburg and led by Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, who were bent on getting their country back, they were a bit surprised. They said nothing, though.

The Florist didn't care much for politics.

Less than a week after the election, the Florist met their third SMP leader face-to-face, as ex-President Soot's son Fundy walked into their shop.

"Could I, er..." The fox tugged at the edge of his cuff. "Do you have anything for first dates?"

"How long have you known them?" The Florist asked, already thinking through possibilities.

"Well, a while," Fundy said. "It's Dream."

The Prime Path Florist stalled. Then, they said, "I think I have the perfect one." They gathered up a bunch of prairie roses, passing them over to the other. Fundy paid for the flowers, gave a bit of a wobbly smile, and then set off, running down the path as soon as he set foot outside.

The next morning, when two customers gossiped to one another as they browsed, the Prime Path Florist found out that the Admin of the SMP and the son of the banished president of L'Manburg were engaged.

The customers wondered what would happen as a result of this. They wondered how the alliances would work, what with Fundy's father being the leader of the rebellion, Fundy himself working for the new leader of L'Manburg, and Dream being the Admin in charge of everything.

The Florist did not offer their thoughts, because the Florist did not care much for politics.

A few weeks later, the day after the announcement of the Manburg festival, Secretary Underscore arrived, looking a bit too small in his suit, but a smile on his face as he entered the store, the smile widening when his eyes landed on the Florist's bees zipping between the flowers.

"Bees!" He exclaimed, taking another step inside. "I love bees!"

The Prime Path Florist smiled gently. "I do too. What can I do for you today, Secretary?"

"Tubbo, please," the teenager replied. "And I don't know if you heard, but I'm in charge of decorating for the festival! I was wondering if I would be able to order some flowers to be put in the morning of?"

The Florist nodded. "Of course. Would you like to come pick them up at, say, 7:30? I normally open at 8, but I'll delay opening by an hour so I could help you put them in."

Tubbo grinned. "That would be great, thank you!"

"Of course, Secretary Tubbo." The teen looked a bit uncomfortable at the title, but he nodded as they asked, "I assume the Government of Manburg will be paying?"

"Yep. The color scheme is going to be based around the flag, if that helps!" Then, without another word, the kid waved to the bees and was gone.

Just under a week later, Tubbo helped them cart dozens of red Imperial Montagues and Dark Geranium.

"What do these flowers mean?" Tubbo asked them as they moved together down the Prime Path, the air crisp and the sun just beginning to shine over the landscape.

The Florist cleared their throat, tapping the side of the cart handle with their finger. "The lighter ones mean Power," they said as they turned the corner of the path, moving down toward the festival grounds.

"And the darker ones?"

The Prime Path Florist thought of the customers who murmured to them about Secretary Underscore, a secret spy for the rebellion. "...Melancholy. They mean melancholy."

Tubbo's smile dimmed, his eyes darkening just a bit, but he plucked a geranium from the cart he was pushing and pinned it to his suit before continuing on.

(After he gave his speech later that day, the flower ended up being darkened, stained with the blood of a teenager who went out with a bang.)

When Secretary Tubbo disappeared, soon followed by Vice President Quackity, both of them supposedly cementing their places in the Pogtopia rebellion (if the whispers were to be believed), the Florist continued on with their job.

After all, the Florist had never cared much for politics.

One day, when the businesses across the SMP were warned to lock their doors as a battle between Manburg and Pogtopia was expected, the Prime Path Florist was looking after their bees when abruptly the ground shook with a force that nearly knocked over some of the plants. The Florist, perturbed for the first time since they watched a teenager get shot full of fireworks, ran to Manburg, where smoke was rising into the sky.

They arrived just in time to watch the hybrid they had seen with VP Tommy months ago (Technoblade, they had heard, the Technoblade) spawn two Withers and laugh as the people of two countries, one decimated and one not, banded together to fight off the creatures.

(The Florist, glad they had brought their weapon, quickly joined in. Withers, when killed, dropped wither roses, and there was no way that they were letting those flowers end up anywhere but in their gloved grasp.)

A few weeks later, once the reconstruction of L'Manburg, now under the direction of President Tubbo, had just about been completed, the bell above the Florist's door chimed, echoing through their shop.

"And this is the Prime Path Flower Shop!" President Tubbo said, spreading his arms out wide. "And here's the Prime Path Florist themself!"

The president seemed to be giving a tour to the person who stood beside him, a lanky hybrid of what looked to be part-enderman and part-something else. The hybrid had to duck to enter the shop, and they expressly did not make eye-contact with the Florist as they stood beside Tubbo, looking just as stressed as he did during Schlatt's presidency, but somehow in a different way. The Prime Path Florist wondered why the President of L'Manburg was giving a tour to a new resident. There were sometimes hundreds of new people who moved to the server every day. What made this hybrid so special?

"Florist, this is Ranboo! He's new to the SMP. Niki already showed him around the Greater SMP, but she's got her bakery to watch, so I'm here to show him the rest!"

The Florist nodded. So, that was it. The hybrid, Ranboo, had been friends with Nihachu. "Nice to meet you, Ranboo," they addressed the hybrid, who nodded, his eyes still not meeting their own. The Florist turned back to Tubbo. "Would you two each like a flower? Free of charge. To welcome a new member of the server."

Tubbo took a dark geranium (he seemed to have developed a liking for them after the festival), and Ranboo asked for an allium.

The Florist handed him two. The tall teen sputtered and attempted to pass one back.

"I only need one," he said, stumbling over his words.

The Prime Path Florist shook their head and pressed the flowers further into Ranboo's hands. "Alliums always come in pairs. Every good florist knows that."

Ranboo visibly swallowed, but he took the flowers nonetheless.

About an hour later, VP Tommy ran past the shop down the Prime Path, and the Florist could just barely make out an allium clenched in the teen's hand.

Time passed, and tensions rose between the factions of the server. The Florist, nestles comfortably in the Holy Land, knowing that they were protected by the Higher Gods and by the Prime itself, rested easy. People from any side still bought their flowers, and business was still good.

When the destruction of L'Manburg came, the Florist did nothing but offer a discount to those whose homes had been blown down to bedrock, for the Florist had never cared much for politics.

(And then, months after that, after Dream's imprisonment in Pandora's Vault, when peace was on the server once more, the door opened on a particularly slow day with a surprisingly sad chime.

The Florist looked up to see Ranboo standing in front of them, tear tracks burning into his skin.

"What can I do for you?" They asked.

"I... I need flowers. For a grave."

"...Would you rather them be somber or bright?"

"Bright. As bright as possible, please," Ranboo said. "I want to remember him for how he was in life."

The Florist soon passed over a bundle of marigolds and helenium, a few harebells interspersed between them. "Symbolizing grief and tears," they said as they handed the teen the flowers.

"Thank you," Ranboo said, preparing to pass over payment. He froze and looked back up at them, eyes wide. "Actually... could I also get an allium?"

The Florist felt a sinking in their stomach and nodded, plucking the flower from a nearby vase and tucking it into the bouquet. The teen paid and left, and the Prime Path Florist went on with their day.

That evening, the official news broke that Dream had murdered TommyInnit in prison. The server cried. The server mourned.

The Florist did not do much of either, because, beyond their cat, their bees, and their flowers, the Florist never cared much for anything.

At least, that was what they tried to tell themselves.

It was easier that way.

It always was.)

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp citizen pov #dsmp citizens memes #tw blood #tubbo #tommyinnit #technoblade #mcyt #fundy #nihachu #i am having a great time writing these dsmp citizen things #and ppl seem to be enjoying #if my askbox is anything to go off of #so ill keep going in between writing for my actual fics #i promise i will write a less angsty one soon!#it just turns out flowers can be really sad on this server idk what to tell you

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ac3id · 3 years

Text

Plaything | 18+ | part i

plaything 1/ ?? | part 0

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 1: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation, masturbation, filming w/o consent, boot grinding, a little bit of bakusquad + reader....this is filthy :D

summary: by luck you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt and powerful brats who just seem to hate you and among them, a certain red eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 1: you bump into bakugou by accident, dropping your vanilla ice cream all over him, you try to apologize and run away but wants more...oh wait why are his friends standing there recording everything too?

wordcount. 4k+

a/n: sooooo, it’s finally out! huge thanks to @sawamooora for proof reading this! helped me out a lot <3 sorry for making u sit through that mess x[

this scene was inspired by that one episode of boys over flowers where the mc’s best friend drops ice cream on the main guy’s shoe and he asks the mc to lick it off...obviously that didn’t happen in the show but it really got me thinking......

alsO the netflix show elite,,, i just saw it and knew,,,,

taglist: @mocha-focha, @erenyeagersbasement , @haribo-pop, @sunshine-fangs, @kuremis, @amazing-fandoms,

dm/ inbox/ comment to be added/ removed.

—navigation

It was a great opportunity. Never in your life would you have thought you’d manage to land a scholarship at the prestigious U.A Private Academy.

The school was a dream, the best in your city, and only affordable for the rich. Graduating from such a school could have helped you with life in so many different ways. Not only would it open doors you could never touch before, but it would help you to form connections which would make your life undoubtedly easier.

Graduating from U.A. was a blessing, but obviously, it did not come easy. It was rather unfortunate. After your previous school building had collapsed, due to some accident, the board announced its year-long closure.

At the time, you were beyond lost and understandably frustrated - it was your last year before college and you simply couldn't risk waiting the year out. The whole situation was nerve-wracking, looking for decent schools which would allow you in.

Honestly, you had no idea what you would’ve done if U.A. hadn’t called you that night.

It was the last day of the summer holidays, a week after your school building had collapsed. Luckily, no one was hurt - but the damage on the campus was severe.

You had been talking to your friends when your mother rushed into your room with exciting news. Apparently, the chairman of U.A was feeling generous. He had decided to offer four excellent students from your school a scholarship to U.A.

You were overjoyed being one of the students along with your two other friends; Shinso Hitoshi and Izuku Midoriya.

At first, the thought was a little scary - going into a completely different world than you were accustomed to. The kids there would be much different than you, you didn't want to be the laughing stock, you didn’t want to be their silly little entertainment... The thought made you nervous, but when your best friend, Izuku, called you the next night explaining how he also won the scholarship; followed by Shinso, you were relieved.

Yes, you were stepping into a whole different world but you at least had your two friends with you.

And that brought you to the first day of school.

You stood outside the huge gates of the even enormous academy all alone shaking in your little, expensive skirt they forced you to wear as the uniform waiting for your friends. You promised the two boys you’d wait for them, and besides, you weren’t planning on entering the building all alone.

Your friends, Shinso and Midoriya, lived close to each other. They were supposed to meet you at the gates of the school that morning, but they were running late. Your anxiety grew the longer you stayed there, with students filling the place- arriving in their fancy cars with their expensive bags and accessories. It easily made you feel out of place.

“Hey,” you heard someone before someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly turned around to greet the voice. Staring back at you was Uraraka Ochaco.

You remembered she was in your school too, Midoriya has a huge crush on her.

“Yes, Uraraka? Right?” You weren’t close to her, nothing but mere acquaintances. But seeing her face - right here, right now - it made your day.

Uraraka was dressed in the same uniform as you, there was no doubt that she was one of the four kids who won the scholarship. Both of you talked while you implored her to wait for Midoriya and Shinso. You didn’t fail to notice the way her cheeks turned pink when you mentioned Midoriya. The two of them were so obvious.

Your friends arrived, they were late, but they came.

Apparently, there was an accident that forced them to stay back a little longer, but they managed to make it before the first bell.

“I actually have an old friend who goes there now,” Midoriya confesses out of the blue as the four of you enter the gates. You look at him in awe.

During the three years in high school that both of you had spent together, he had never mentioned any friend of his going to the U.A. academy ever.

“Why did you never tell us?” Uraraka asks.

“well, we’re not on good terms. He used to live in the same neighborhood before his parent’s business took off. He left after middle school.” Midoriya says, a slight frown forming on his face.

“Who is he?” Shinso asks.

Midoriya pauses briefly before explaining his entire history with a temperamental and rude blonde. Bakugou Katsuki, he calls him. His childhood friend. But from what you managed to gather, Bakugou was anything but a friend to Midoriya.

Bakugo was once just a simple boy, living a simple life, destined to do great things - but once his parent’s clothing line ‘Dynamite’ blew up and became mainstream, he started drowning in wealth. Bakugo moved out of his old neighborhood at the starting of high school before enrolling in U.A., just like all his rich friends.

“Maybe you should say hi,” Uraraka suggests. Midoriya’s expressions turned sheepish.

“About that…” he started. “I called him yesterday, got his number from mom, and-” he stopped.

“What did he say?” Shinso asked.

“He told me to get lost and die,” Midoriya said with a slight frown on his face, looking down.

That was your first impression of Katsuki Bakugou. For a man you had not even met, you sure loathed him.

School went smoothly for a week, everything was going great. The four of you kept your profile low, didn’t talk until spoken to, kept your distance, and everything was okay.

People often starred and whispered amongst each other when they saw you in the hallways, but that was about it. Everyone seemed to be decent but… there’s always a but.

Everything took a turn for the worse when you managed to piss off the wrong person, Bakugo Katsuki himself.

It was an honest mistake, not even that big of a deal - especially for his standards Yet, for some reason, Bakugo wanted to get under your skin.

It happened after your lunch break, you were on your way back to your classroom with an ice-cream cone fasted tightly in your hands. You mindlessly dashed through the hallways, trying your best to get back to class as fast as possible - you don’t want to be late. It’d earn you a bad reputation. You don’t need that- you don't want anything which could jeopardize your scholarship.

You walked straight and took a turn. Just by fate, you bumped into a stiff, hard chest making you wobble on your feet and sending your ice cream from your hand flying straight to the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed, looking down seeing what you had to work with.

The ice-cream cone splattered on the floor, the white creamy liquid flushed all over the floor along with staining an expensive-looking, black leather boot. A snarl comes from above you along with a group of chuckles. More expensive shoes come into your line of view as you realize you’re not alone.

You slowly bring your gaze up, ogling at who you just pissed off.

Staring back at you is a furious blonde, glaring at you with such intensity that it makes your stomach drop. It’s the infamous Bakugou Katsuki, you don’t want to deal with him.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you don’t give him a chance to complain as you take your flight. Quickly, you try running away but a large hand grabs your forearm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

You look to the side, deep red eyes stare right back at you.

“Where are you running off to? Don’t you think you owe my friend here a proper apology?” Kirishima says, his grip on your arm growing tighter. He towers over you, his huge body trapping you with intimidation.

Going to U.A for over a week there’s a thing or two that you’ve learned about the rich, snobby brats who own the school. Not everyone is bad, a few of them are actually but the rest are just bad.

Bakugou was the worst. From how Midoriya described him, you knew for a fact he’d be a horrible person. But hell, he managed to prove himself even worse.

He was crude, mean, downright arrogant, and ignorant. Always screaming unasked opinions on top of his lungs, and gets mad whenever someone disagrees. He acts like the world revolves around him.

Bakugo had a bunch of friends who he called his “followers” and they weren’t any better.

They just watched while Bakugou ruined everything, they were there to support him.

Kirishima Eijirou the redhead, he was captain of the football team. He was a jock, brawns over brains kind of person. Girls cooed over him and his overly attractive, hot body. It looked as if he was sculpted by God himself.

Next was Kaminari Denki. He was in the school band, dating the lead singer. And yet, he managed to find time to flirt with other girls. He was the goofball of the group, dumb and stupid But he always knew what he was doing. Even though it was barely noticeable, you could always see a devious glint in those amber eyes of his.

Sero Hanta was famous for a lot of reasons. Most notably for having brought illegal drugs on the campus and skipping classes to go down to his junkie hangout spot to smoke weed. The man had no shame. Sometimes, he’d walk into the classrooms high as fuck. The teachers couldn’t do anything even if they tried, his parents practically owned the school; he owned the school. There was no going against the tall, lanky man who looked like he couldn’t even smash a bug. He held the most power and his friends sure knew how to abuse it.

Last but not least was Mina Ashido. The one and only girl member of the self-proclaimed ‘bakusquad’. Sometimes, Jirou Kyouka, the lead singer of the school, would hang out with the boys and her boyfriend, but she wasn’t a permanent member. Mina was.

In your opinion, Mina was a nightmare dressed like a daydream. With her short, pink hair and bright smile, she seemed like an angel. But she was the devil. Worse than even Bakugou, perhaps.

She knew everything about everyone, she had leverage galore: screenshots ready to leak, videos ready to ruin lives. She had them all, and frankly- she scared you the most.

Kirishima pushed you back, and Bakugo caught you by your shoulders.

“That was fucking rude,” he growled, biting his fingers into your shoulder blades tight and hard making you squeal. “Are you fucking blind or something? Fucking extra.”

“I said I’m sorry, let me go will you?” Even in such a terrifying situation, you try to remain calm.

“What do you think, Sero?” Kaminari began. Your heart sank, including Sero into anything was never a good sign.

“She ruined Bakugou’s new shoes,” he continued. Bakugou’s hold on you tightened and you winced, turning back to him and returning his glare.

“Okay, what do you want?” you give in, finally. A mischievous spark lights up in his crimson eyes as flashes a cocky smirk to his friends before turning back to you with a frown. He pushes you towards Mina and she catches you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Those were expensive, right?” she looks at you and then back at Bakugou. He grunts, nodding.

“Fuck yes, I’m pissed as hell. Some fucking extra managed to ruin it.”

You look back down to steal a glance at his heavy, leather boot. The small, white stain melted away.

“What will you do to make up for it?” Mina whispers your name and you cringe. They were teasing you. For their fun, they were making fun of you.

“What can I do?” you say, sarcastically. Prying yourself away from her hold. The crowd goes dead silent before speaking. Sero is the first one to talk.

“Lick it off.”

There’s a pause, no one speaks. Your stomach drops and your face pales at the look the five of them are giving you- it’s serious. Dead serious.

Kaminari bursts out laughing followed by Sero and the others. The four of them get a great laugh but Bakugou stares at you head-on with his grave expressions burning through your soul.

“Whatcha looking at? Do it,” he commands.

The laughing dies down and Kaminari speaks, “are you serious? You want her to lick your shoe,” he can’t control his laughter, a chuckle breaks with every word.

“Yes, I’m fucking serious. Besides, Sero recommended it,” he smirks. “Do you really want to say no to him? I don’t know so much about this but-“ he leans down close to your face, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “it might complicate your scholarship.”

There’s a twisted rhythm in his voice. He’s enjoying tormenting you. You still want to believe that they’re just messing around. That they’ll have their laughs and let you go, but the way Sero stares at you says otherwise.

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bakugou asks.

“Of course she doesn’t! That’s gross, oh my god.” Mina exclaims, earning a chuckle from the rest of the boys.

“Hey, let’s hear it from Sero himself.” Kirishima pats Sero’s back, pushing him forward. The five of them have circled around you, coiling you inside their venomous nest with you in the center. You turn to Sero with pleading eyes, looking up at his huge form, begging.

He smirks looking down at you, you look so tiny beneath bim. He wants to mess with you, even more, you look like a nice toy to him. He wants to play with it until he can’t.

“I guess, I did say that-” your blood runs cold, heartbeat picking up in nervousness. “-but you don’t need to do it.” He finishes. Your face lights up while the others groan in disappointment. Bakugou looks livid.

“Just know that, you’re the one who dropped the ice cream on Bakugou’s shoe and now you’re not even helping him out. That’s not very noble, is it? I don’t know if I even by mistake slipped that info back home- my parents might reconsider whether you truly deserve to be here or not. They don’t really like disrespectful kids who comprise the school’s name.”

Sero ends his speech with a wide, ear-to-ear grin, followed by a pat to your head.

“The choice is yours.”

You pause for a moment and think. Where they were really going to make you do it, where they were really going to humiliate you like this. They were. But were you willing to do it?

From Sero’s threat, you could tell he was serious, this was legit.

It wouldn’t have been the first time the school expelled someone who had beef with Sero, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They don’t care about anyone but their loving son. They wouldn’t even think once before expelling you.

“What’s your answer, princess?” Kirishima teases.

Mina and Kaminari once again break into fits of laughter.

“What do you mean? She doesn’t have a choice here, kneel you extra.” Your heart hammers in your chest as Bakugou gestures you to kneel. You stop for a second, breathing unevenly- thinking. After a long, thoughtful sigh, you answer.

“No, I am not going to do it.” Your voice is meek yet clear. Even though you’re trembling under the heavy gazes of five snakes, you choose to stand your ground.

Bakugou glaring at you while the others boo.

“Aw, c’mon you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t be a little brat.”

Bakugou stays silent while the others continue to throw insults at you - calling you names and trying to make you regret your decision. You look straight forward into Bakugou’s cold, red eyes, searching for his next move. Your heart beats even harder in your chest with increased anxiety. After watching your torment for more than a few minutes, Bakugo decides he’s had enough of this game.

“Hey, shitty hair,” Bakugo starts. “Punch me.”

“What?” Kirishima asks, vividly shaken. “Why do you want me to hit you, Bakubro?”

“Punch me real hard, give me a black eye.” The confusion grows greater on everyone’s faces. You stare at him in awe, wondering what angle was trying to play.

Kirishima raises his hands in defense. “Woah, dude slow down there. I’m not just going to punch you.”

Bakugou clicks the roof of his tongue, letting out a sound of irritation. “You all are just dumb,” he starts.

“Imagine if this punny, little,” he leans down closer to you till his lips touch your ears and whispers your name with a crude chuckle. “Were to drop all her food over me, not apologize, punch and me then run away, that’d bring her into a whole world of trouble. Wouldn’t it?”

Bakugo’s words are calculated and sly, he knows exactly what he’s getting at when he starts. His voice fills you up with dread as he makes his accusations public.

“She would be expelled on spot and Kacchan could also raise charges,” Kaminari adds.

Your eyes widen in fear.

“Yeah, I’ll fucking do that.” Mina giggles. “That would succck,” she cheers. Your lower lip quivers as you stare at them in disbelief, your eyes open wide only to be covered with fear.

“Hey, c’mon, why are you doing this to me?” You feel them inch closer to you, their warmth leeching onto you the longer you stay surrounded by them.

“Because you have no fucking manners.” Bakugou snarls.

“Kiri, punch him. What are you waiting for? If you don’t wanna do it I will!” Kaminari cries, growing impatient.

Kirishima laughs before he charges Bakugou. Your heart hammers in your chest.

You think about your family, your future, and how disappointed everyone would be with you. Your dreams and aspirations, all were rooted in this school.

It was honestly sad, pathetic even. Your entire future was just a joke to these spoiled kids. These kids who could control you, and everyone else, with just a flick of their fingers. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the price to pay for a piece of the beautiful cake known as U.A... You resign yourself to your fate.

A piece of your mind.

“N-no, don’t do that. I-I’ll do it,” you murmured, your voice timid and weak. The five paused looking at each other with an ominous glint in their eyes. Bakugou was the first to speak.

“Well, then fucking get on with it. On your knees.” Obediently like a trained puppy, you got down onto your knees, not letting your eyes fall from Bakugou’s face. His red, fierce eyes barked at you with an unknown look, keeping you lost.

“Holy shit, she’s actually doing this,” Mina squealed watching you lean forward, bringing your face next to Bakugou’s expensive boots.

“Kaminari, record this.” Sero taps at the energetic blonde, forcing him to take his phone out and hit ‘record’. As you lean further to the ground, your short skirt rides up behind you, giving the audience a clear view of your round ass and pastel panties. The sight brings a smile to Bakugou’s face as he scoffs.

“Cute panties,” he remarks.

You jerk, trying desperately to sit back, but Bakugo stops you. Smashing his other foot on top of your shoulder, he holds you there facing the ground.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” he growls.

You squirm, almost falling under his weight and as much you hate to admit it, a tingle of excitement runs down your spine. This was turning you on.

A row of whistles flood in, the boys start teasing you and praising Bakugou.

“Lick it off,” he commands.

You look down at his leather boot, the ice cream almost melted. There’s still a bright white spot of the sweet now liquid splayed out. Even though it’s not a lot, it still makes you cringe. You peek your shy, little tongue out timidly, forcing yourself to do the heinous deed.

Bakugou watches you hesitate and pushes on your shoulder harder making you reach towards him.

You give in after a final attempt, diving into his wishes. Your wet tongue touches the rough, cold leather. You cringe after a single touch, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose at the salty taste. “Clean it all off,” he commands.

You dive back in, this time letting your tongue glide across a larger portion. The humiliation burns through your body. It makes you uncomfortably hot, mostly from anger and but a little bit of arousal.

“Nice ass.”

There it is. The excitement comes back the moment they start making suggestive comments, the attention riles you up and it’s horrible.

“Kaminari are you even supposed to be here? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Mina asks at the blonde pervert who was currently zooming on your ass.

“Oh? We’re cool as long as I don’t stick my dick her,” he points to you. “That’s hella fucking tempting but I’m in love, dude.” He chuckles to himself, thinking about his girlfriend.

They treat you like an object, talking about you like you were some sort of a toy.

“Bet her pussy is tight,” Sero says.

Kirishima turns to Bakugou, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Yo, Bakubro, can we touch her?”

Bakugou looks on from watching you lick his boot and turns to Kirishima. A dark, unsettling gaze falls across his eyes as he speaks, “No. This one is mine.” he stares down at you.

You stop lapping on his shoe and stand back on your knees, buckling your knees you try to get up but Bakugou harshly kicks your shoulder, throwing you back and making you cry.

“Why did you do that?” you squeal, holding onto your bruised shoulder, glaring at him intently.

The rest of the group goes quiet at the display of Bakugou’s sudden violence.

He stands between your thighs, lazily resting his foot atop of your soft thighs.

“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” the angle you were spread out in had your skirt flipped over hips, displaying your pretty, pastel panties to everyone in the room.

Even though it’s subtle, masked by everyone’s fear of what Bakugou was planning, you still feel everyone’s gaze focused right on you and more specifically at your clothed cunt. Bakugou presses hard on your thigh making you cry.

“Useless Deku’s friends are just like him. The fucking second you walked in here, I knew you were just another useless insect for me to stomp on.” He pauses, smirking, pressing his foot onto you even harder, twisting his ankle to increase the burning sting surging across your right thigh. “And I’m doing just that.”

He steps off you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and recover from the burn. His eyesight travels lower down to your panties. He admires the cute pair you had on. Normally when he’d see girls naked, they’d dress themselves up the most luxurious to match his standards. But that’s not you, that could never be you.

He rejoices at the thought of seeing your flushed, tear-stained face breaking down under him. You’ll never be like those girls, always a step behind. He can build you up and break you however he likes, you’d have no say in it.

The power trip drives him crazy.

He presses the tip of his boot over your clothed clothed cunt, pushing the hard material right over your sensitive clit.

You gasp at the feeling, looking up at him with terrified eyes. He smirks down at you, moving his foot in a steady rhythm, rubbing the fabric of your cotton panties against your little pearl.

“This turning you on? What a freak.” The rest of his group basks in shock. They watch intently as the scene spiraled out for them, too captivated to make any comments. They just keep quiet and stare.

The way you squirm under Bakugou as he plays with your cute clit so unforgivingly makes them hot with excitement. Kaminari feels a little guilty but he blames it on his nature as a man.

Sero feels a little bad for you, they all do. But then again they wouldn’t waste the opportunity to be in Bakugou’s footsteps- literally.

“You’re a little slut, you know that?” Bakugou sneers.

Your gasps turn into whimpers as his simulation becomes harder. You clench your fists, desperately wishing it to be over. Tears brim in your eyes at the sheer humiliation of your corrupted form. This was just too much, too much for you to handle.

“Please, stop,” you beg, knowing he wouldn't listen. “I’ll report you,” you cry. A roar of laughter starts, shutting you up.

“Go for it, you do that.” Mina comments. Kaminari walks closer to you, bringing the camera down to your face recording your horrified expressions.

“We’ll just go ahead and post this online.” he threatens.

A drop of tear falls down your waterline following a waterfall. You cry, leave all of your dignity behind and cry. You beg them to stop but as your pleas mix with your moans, it’s hard for anyone to understand what you’re saying. It’s not like they don’t know what you’re asking them for, they just turn deaf, simply because they can.

Bakugou stops, he takes a step back, leaving you alone. You let out the tiniest cry when he leaves, ditching you just when you need his touch the most.

“Feels like I’m doing too much of the work, if you want it so bad, do this yourself.” He says. Your body still burns with desire, your clit still hard and cunt salivating, you are nowhere close to being done...

It’s as if something takes over and you are possessed by the dire need to cum, you do exactly as he says.

You snake your fingers down your panties, deliberately rubbing on your swollen little clit before pushing your finger into your drenched cunt. You cry out as you clench around your finger, the pleasure becoming unbearable. Your legs shake and you close your eyes shut.

You stay there on the floor, fingering yourself in the corridor, without any shame, while Kaminari records all of it.

“She’s gonna give me a hard-on,” Kirishima says and you moan.

“She really is a slut, huh?” Sero comments.

“She’s cute,” Mina adds with a smile.

Bakugou scoffs, “does Deku know how much of a whore you are?” He asks.

You don’t pay any attention to what he says, too busy bringing yourself to your climax.

“You’re getting all this right?” Mina looks over Kaminari’s shoulder and onto the phone screen which captures you beautifully losing yourself for everyone to see.

“You close?” Bakugou asks as you feel yourself clench around fingers tightly, he bends down on his and pulls your panties down your hips, admiring your precious cunt.

“Cute pussy,” he remarks before flicking your sensitive, hardened clit.

A rush of pleasure washes down your body as you cry while cumming. Bakugou pushes you right over the edge, a nasty grin screaming atop his face as he watches you. You curse at yourself for letting him see you like this, but there’s not much you can do but cry while you feel your juices gush around you before sliding down your thighs and onto the dirty floor.

It takes a second for you to calm down and when you do come to your senses, dread fills you up. Tears shamelessly fall down your face as you realize what you just did. The others laugh at you, without feeling any remorse.

Bakugou continues to stare at you with an unsettling look, while the others discuss the heinous crime you’ve just committed.

Sero looks down at you and you catch his dark eyes staring at you. A toothy grin scavenges his face as he speaks.

“Awesome,” he says as if he just finished some mediocre movie.

Finally, you find the courage to get up and run.

This was totally not awesome.

805 notes · View notes

cheelduh · 3 years

Text

How to get your crush to walk you to the nurse’s office (Highschool AU)

This is part 3, but it can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of a monster schlong, and unedited.

Parts: 1 2

Synopsis: Childe offers Lisa a shady deal to yet again sit next to you. However, all his efforts are in vain after he makes a complete fool out of himself by tripping over literally nothing because of a stupid cold. Maybe getting a cold isn’t so bad if he gets to be escorted to the nurse’s office by none other than yourself.

Note: Pure unedited crack luvs. Can’t wait for Childe rerun tmr I hope I get the ginger and the emo nun! 🥲💖

The eyes on you are suffocating, to say the least, enough for you to consider peeling a layer of your own skin off just to breathe. Every now and then, you get a teasing glance from a classmate, and you're sure you'll be an entire puddle of guts on your desk before home room even gets a chance to begin.

There's no doubt it's Signora that spread the news of your date yesterday as a means to some sick revenge. Knowing this was going to happen, you packed some salt in your backpack to cancel out all her evil. Now all you need is a chance to knuckle ball it in her face.

Fingers crossed, you pray to the archons that Childe didn't slip anything about your...brick slip yesterday. It's a good thing you weren't in a school uniform yesterday because that would've been the end of your high school life right there.

Thinking back to it, you collapse into your open hands. How could you have beaten a bunch up losers up...risking your flawless reputation for a sadistic ginger with an affinity for chaos? And worst of all, why did you care about them shit talking him in the first place?

"You okay dear? Something you want to tell me?" Lisa feigns concern, already knowing why.

With a sigh, you blink an eye open through the gap in your fingers. "Doing just fine."

"Oh it couldn't have been that bad." Her eyes shine in mischief. "I bet Childe was a real gentleman."

"He sure was." Kaeya pipes up from the back, leaning in to show you the image on his phone. It's a picture Childe took of you absolutely oblitering an ice cream cone.

You groan and slump deeper into your chair from embarrassment as Kaeya and Lisa engage in chatter, mostly revolving around your date.

Ignoring them completely, you start to ponder about Childe. Where is he? You were sure he'd be here bright and early to reminisce on your eventful date yesterday, which mostly consisted of a competition of who could win the most stall games at a local festival.

Maybe he'd even tease you about the Monoceros Caeli keychain attached to your phone. The very one he'd won for you, and the reason that started the competition in the first place.

Your cheeks warm when you fidget with said keychain, and you can't tell if the fast pace of your heart is because you're nervous to see him or because of the biology quiz you have second period.

So wrapped up in all these foreign emotions, you fail to notice the shadow that looms over you, a glittery finger guard tapping at your desk.

The student council President, Ningguang, plops down a stack of budget files on your desk during homeroom. She's gives you a light smile, and you know what's coming when you meet her alluring gaze.

"Be a dear Y/N," Ningguang smiles, tight lipped, all pretty with her hair pinned back to crown her face. "Even with all hands on deck, i'm afraid the student council's efforts will not come to ripeness concerning all of this paperwork."

This isn't the first time you've done her a favour by becoming the president's personal accountant, and it definitely isn't going to be the last.

Ningguang is powerful, with wit like no other, and you want to be able to call in a chit when the time comes.

"Of course," You reply with a smile that rivals her own. "I'll have them done by the end of the day."

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Y/N." She departs elegantly, probably opting to sit next to Beidou and bicker.

You're halfway on the third sheet for total income, a minute before class starts, when you're interrupted. Childe stumbles through the door quite noisily, a shitstain of a grin plastered on his face that is directed at you.

You sigh and shake your head as he approaches you. Thankfully the seat next to you is occupied by—

Shit! Where's Lisa?

Across the classroom, Lisa gives you a thumbs up with a bar of vending machine chocolate in her hand. You should've known she'd betray you yet again.

Childe slides in smoothly after bumping fists with Kaeya, and he falls short of containing his giddy nature.

"Hi Y/N." There's something weird about him today, because you're sure you haven't seen his cheeks so flushed ever. His eyes land on your phone, which is splayed on the desk, and the keychain widens his grin.

You snatch your phone and hide it in the middles of your thighs, but the damage is already done. The urge to shrink against the wall has never been as strong as it is in this moment.

"Hi." It's a miracle you haven't combusted on the spot. Is it usually this awkward? Everything went so fine yesterday, so why can't you ease into it today?

He takes that as a go ahead and instantly reaches for your hand on the table, but you retract at the speed of light.

"Don't even think about it." You're ready to connect the tip of your trainers to his bleached asshole, nose crinkled at his behaviour.

Kaeya whistles lowly, leaning forward for the HD show that is your life.

Childe's smile is sheepish as he's scratching the back of his head. "So we're not on that stage yet huh? I seriously thought you had a change of heart after you beat up those high schoolers for m—"

You muffle his statement with a hand on his mouth, and send a pointed glare to Kaeya. "You didn't hear shit."

The Captain of the skating team nods innocently, and salutes. "Yes boss."

Returning your gaze to Childe, who looks like he's having the time of his life with your small hand on his mouth, you narrow your eyes. "Stop trying to spread rumours."

He can only hum in reply, but you feel a weird pressure on your palm and—

The smug asshole kisses your palm.

You pull back your hand and wipe at your pants, full of disbelief. "Did you just??? Did you just? Kiss my hand???" Mouth twisted, you have no idea what to think.

Childe's throws his head back, and his laugh rings in your ears. You hate yourself for wavering slightly at the sound before smacking his arm. His laughs turn into coughs, probably because he may have swallowed his saliva down the wrong pipe. Charming.

Where the fuck is Zhongli? It's already been five minutes too long into homeroom.

Rolling your eyes, you opt to continue and scribble down budget numbers and add sums up or whatever you were doing earlier after Childe pipes down, choosing to admire you quietly by leaning his weight on one arm. It's enough to make you squirm, face flushed.

"Can you not?" Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you don't look up as you speak.

"If you give me a kiss, then maybe." Childe's cheeky, ridiculously so, and he points a finger at his cheek.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." You deadpan, fingers itching to choke something or rather...someone.

Childe pouts, and then his eyes close for a second, almost as if he's exhausted when he gives you a sort of smile. With how he's leaning in so close, you can easily spot the swelling in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

For the first time today, there's no bite in your tone when you ask with a slightly raised brow. "Are you okay Childe?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to answer ecstatically, snapping out of his tired haze by straightening himself up. "Better more than ever now that I've seen you, girlie."

You blush madly, the compliment enough for you to drop your pen on the ground. It rolls over beyond your reach.

"I'll get that." Childe jumps out of his chair and you're unable to stop him as he goes to go fetch your pen like the chivalrous idiot he is. There's a slight pause in his movement, his body taking longer to process the messages his brain is sending.

He recovers from the muddle in his cognition by shaking his head, and casually goes to pick up the pen, then ends the move by falling over backwards in unconsciousness.

"Childe!" You lunge for him, managing to catch him a second prior to his ass hitting the floor with the help of Kaeya, who somehow looks like he's expected this outcome from the very start.

The entire classroom clamps up and turns to look for the root of all the commotion.

"Don't just sit there and watch!" You hiss angrily, waving them off. "Someone get Zhongli!"

Aether doesn't need to be told twice as Venti and him race down the hall together. Venti probably just to use this opportunity of sudden chaos to skip homeroom.

"Looks like a fever." The Captain accesses the situation as a small crowd forms around you two. "There's no way he didn't feel it in the morning."

"The absolute idiot." You groan at his words. "Of course he'd try to have a pissing match with a cold."

"I'm still here you know." Childe slurs, leaning into you for warmth, chest rising and falling softly. "Just a...a little sleepy. Am I dreaming angel?"

You roll your eyes, but don't make any moves to lean away from his touch. "Anyone got a water bottle?" Curling your hands around his shoulder, you shift your gaze towards the crowd.

Somebody passes you an emerald green water bottle with dandelion charms that clink against the hard plastic handle from a nearby desk. It screams stupid, but you don't have time to judge the owner.

Opening it up hastily, you're about to let Childe take a sip until it's snatched away from you at the speed of light.

"Hey what gives!" You call out to Kaeya, who inspects the bottle closely with his one eye. He then nods in affirmation as if his suspicions are confirmed.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Is all he says when he motions for you to take a whiff, which you do so reluctantly, eyes closed.

The scent hits you all it once. It's watered down vodka, except without the watering down. Tears form from the intensity.

"The goddamn bard." You choke out, and it earns you a drained chuckle from the ginger that has his head situated on your forearm.

He has half the mind to nuzzle in further, but the position is convenient enough for you to crush his skull if you wish to do so. So he refrains, albeit reluctantly.

Zhongli manages to make it in less than two minutes, sipping on a cup of steaming tea as he breaks apart the crowd to crouch down. "Is everything alright? I came as soon as I could after I made this tea. I assumed it was just another prank."

Everyone in the room shakes their head incredulously.

"Unfortunately it isn't a prank. Childe fainted briefly." You tell him politely despite the urgency, since you're whipped for all your teachers.

"I didn't faint!" Childe groans, exasperated. "Got a little dizzy s'all."

"Yeah," Kaeya cuts in to summarize the situation. "I'll be happy to take him to the nurses office with Y/N—"

Zhongli clears his throat. "You won't be going anywhere Mr.Alberich. I'm sure you have five overdue assignments in my class. Y/N here can walk him just fine." He then attempts to wink at Childe secretly like the wingman he is, but everyone in the classroom and their grandma notices.

The facepalm you do is not enough to render you brain dead.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh for the nth time today, and it's only eight thirty in the morning. "No worries, Lisa can help—"

"Sorry cutie. I'm manifesting for the biology quiz." Lisa deflects, lighting three candles on her desk unceremoniously with her eyes closed.

You don't understand why no one has confiscated her box of matches yet. This entire school is a law suit waiting to happen.

You succumb to the team effort everyone is trying so hard to display. "I guess I can go." The hall pass is already written, signed, and neatly folded into the chest pocket of your uniform. "How did you even..."

You don't even get a chance to finish before both you and Childe are whisked away to the outside of the classroom, the door shutting behind you with a slam. Your ears perk up at the sound of a lock clicking in place.

"Looks like you're stuck with me." The smug bastard still has the audacity to beam even when he's pale in the face. "Might have to hold my arm. If I fall and crack my skull—that wouldn't look too good on your record." He makes grabby hands, like a toddler.

The smile you give is unnerving, and with the speed of a snail, you manage to loop in your arm with Childe's. "Another word and let's move on to how your hospital record is going to have more than just a cracked skull."

"If you'd nurse me back to health, it'll all be worth it." The quip he sends without a beat lacks its usual goof, but it does manage to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

—

Childe's busy thumbing at his phone while you pace at the foot of the bed, arms crossed with a frown etched on your features. You hope you don't look too worried, don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Can we just get this over with?" He wails uncharacteristically from his spot on the white sheeted bed after ruling out everything he wanted to do on his phone. His hair is tousled more than usual, as a by-product of his constant restlessness.

"Shut up." You answer monotonously, arms crossed as you lean against the wall. "Let her finish her tiktok."

Barbara—the daughter of the school nurse, has her phone on the window, lip syncing and dancing to some music on beat as she films a tiktok with the utmost of important.

It's concerning that her father isn't here to tend to your needs, but apparently he's in the middle of a meeting with principle Varka. Said meeting had been going on for the past few months, but this school is devoid of logic anyways so nobody really questions anything.

"I'm literally dying here."

"Archons you're such a baby," Shaking your head, you approach his bed with a newfound annoyance. "Barbara has to create a tiktok at least once every twenty four hours or her fan club goes feral and..."

"Tries to jump off the roof as the ultimate sacrifice to her majesty." Childe sighs, and for the first time you sense his irritation. "Got it."

Just in time, Barbara finishes her cute little dance and comes over to where Childe is laying.

Childe doesn't miss the way your scowl has dissipated, and you give Barbara your undivided attention, hearts in your eyes from all the adoration. He has half the mind to call you out on it, no doubt a little jealous over how the young highschool idol can get you to show more emotion than him.

"I'm so sorry! I started those tiktoks out of mild interest but now I have an obligation to my fans." The younger apologizes profusely, getting to work almost immediately.

"No worries." Childe starts, staying still as the blonde examines him. "I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Y/N here is being dramatic, she probably just wants to spend some alone time with me."

You inhale sharply, turn to Barbara, and ask. "If I jumped out of the window right now from this floor, would it be a quick and easy death?"

The younger girl's eyes widen, and Childe stifles his snort.

"Kidding." You raise your hands up to cease her worries, and then motion towards him. "Common cold?"

"Yes," Barbara moves on and writes down something on a slip. "We'll just keep him here until his parents can pick him up."

"My parents can't pick me up." He asserts in a casual tone. "Don't call them."

"We still have to call them. If they don't come, you're to stay in this bed all day." She hands you the note, which is a viable excuse for all the classes he'll miss today. "Give this to his homeroom teacher. You'd also better get to class, your hall pass is about to expire."

"Hold up." You remark, barely paying attention to the note that you've shoved down your pocket. "I'm not leaving him here alone." There's no room for argument, your decision is firmly stated.

Childe hypes you up in his weakened state, disoriented. "You tell em girlie."

"He won't be alone." Barbara flashes you a reassuring smile. "I'll be monitoring him until his parents get here."

"No, no, you don't understand." You argue, inquiring all the doubts you have. "He's gonna try to pull some shit and I'll have to be here to stop him."

"Ease up babe." Childe tries to calm you down, despite the giddiness in his chest at the realization that you want to take care of him.

His subconscious begs him to let you stay, to let himself be doted and cared for the way he's always wanted you to, but he knows he can't let you skip class. Not when you've worked so hard and come so far. "I'll be okay for a few. You can go back to class and then visit me during break."

You bite your lips, head jumbled with all the different possibilities of how shit can hit the fan. "I can't! What if Signora shows up? She'll poison you in this weakened state to get back at me for trying to exorcise her." The hesitation in your features gives away everything.

Childe's eye twitches at the thought of Signora out of all people getting the best out of him, and also the absolute audacity you have to be calling him weak. Clearly all his efforts towards the little shows of dominance (e.g. Shoving Pallad against a locker, spraying a hefty amount of cologne on, being an asshole in general, etc.) have not bore fruit.

"You tried to exorcise her?" Barbara gasps, momentarily reminding the two of you that she's still present.

"Her evil has no bounds." Your expression is hard to read, dead serious. "I do not regret my attempt at cancelling Satan's hell spawn."

Childe himself has been cancelled hundreds of times over the span of highschool because of all his problematic traits (e.g calling Venti a twink) and it is not a pleasant experience.

Though it does give him a sense of comfort, knowing that arrogant bitch Signora is finally getting what's coming to her, even if she is one of his friends.

Serves her right for trying to Pavlov her stupid Chihuahua into biting the closest human being just by the snap of her manicured finger. As if it's persistent yapping and tendency to run in front of cars isn't enough torture to deal with on a daily basis.

Childe's yanked out of his thoughts rather forcefully at the sound of the door opening abruptly, the handle crashing into the wall, shocking Barbara's attempts to reassure you.

He knows who it is because of his top tier gaydar, dreading what's to come.

Scaramouche is a morose son of a bitch with a mean streak that hasn't been broken since he was an itty bitty shit in the fourth grade.

"I can't believe you let yourself get sick!" The navy haired boy exclaims in disbelief, doubling over with tears, clapping his hands to add on some extra effects. "Natural selection finally decided to stop pussy footing around your primate-looking ass."

You press your lips together. "Isn't he supposed to be your best friend?"

Scaramouche sputters violently, using the wall as leverage to hold himself up. "You told her I'm your best friend? Oh fuck. Oh this is good. What else did you tell her huh? That you have a monster cock?"

"First of all, you make me reconsider my opinion on the death penalty, dickhead."

Barbara is mortified. Childe continues on anyways.

"—and I do have a monster cock. But why are you so interested in my monster cock huh?"

Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust, amusement nothing but a distant memory. "You don't have a monster cock you plebe."

Childe has an awfully scandalized expression on his face, but smoothly enough it transitions into an unsettling grin that you're all too familiar with. "You didn't deny not being interested in my monster cock though."

It's your turn to be mortified, shaking your head at the banter that goes on back and forth.

"How did you even know he was in here? We aren't even in the same class."

Scaramouche raises a brow as if you're some sort of toddler that's babbling out a mixture of Cheerios and spit, maybe a few digested strawberries here and there. He waves his phone in front of you, "posted it on his story."

"What the—give me that!" You snatch his phone right up, staring at the screen in bewilderment.

There's a video of you doing trick shots with your tech deck on the ledge of a nearby window with a pressed expression while waiting for Barbara to finish up, captioned with: "In the nurses office rn pray for me 🙏, there's this cute girl in front of me should I ask her out?"

You check the poll and ninety five percent say yes. Scaramouche voted no. You have mixed feelings.

Shaking your head, you give Childe, who's unable to sit still, a look of pure exasperation.

Scaramouche claws his phone back from you rather harshly, the bells on his hat jingling, making it hard for you to take him seriously when he sneers your way.

"You should be thankful you're the lover of my comrade." He shivers slightly at the word comrade. "or I would have obliterated you on the spot for that little stunt."

Childe doesn't even pretend to look fazed at the older's threat when he says "as if I'd allow a kumquat headass like you to touch my girl."

You and Barbara hastily jump in to stop the bloodbath that is seconds from happening. "No!"

Luckily, no limbs are teared apart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #kaeya alberich #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #aether #venti genshin impact #genshin impact venti #kaeya genshin impact

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enmy-writes · 3 years

Text

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off; barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body.

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff.

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest.

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

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When We Were Young Part Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Not beta-read I hope everyone's had a good week and is doing well :) Thank you for all of the likes/reblogs/replies!! Warnings: Uuuuuh none Summary: “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.”

“You seem a little agitated, if you don’t mind my saying so.” You did mind her saying so, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be irritated with Mrs. Lloyd. She was Uncle Cornelius’ housekeeper, had known you since you were very young, and was familiar with your moods. “I’m not particularly looking forward to this evening,” You excused. Mrs. Lloyd glanced at you in the mirror as she adjusted the off-the-shoulder sleeves of your royal blue evening gown. “Could it have anything to do with the fact that Lord Dawson will be in attendance?” She asked. “Among other things,” You replied stiffly. She hummed, lifting her hands to smooth over your hair. “Shall I tuck a flower into the braid? I got a lovely bunch of gardenias at the market this morning,” Mrs. Lloyd offered. She didn’t wait for your answer before she headed for the door. “Why gardenias?” You asked, turning to look at her. “They symbolize purity and gentleness,” She told you. You grimaced. “Are there any flowers that symbolize resentment?” You asked. Mrs. Lloyd frowned. “Petunias. But I didn’t buy any of those.”

-- “It’s the last thing this country needs, reform,” Mycroft had been prattling on for nearly twenty minutes now. Most of the men’s voices uttered murmurs of agreement, though you noted Sherlock’s was absent. You glanced in his direction to find him eyeing the man that had been seated across from you. Lord Fredrick Adelbert Dawson did cut a fine figure, you couldn’t deny it. With a sharp, pointed jaw, dusty blonde hair, hawk-sharp steel blue eyes, and an aquiline nose, he tended to draw the eye of many a young lady. He had even drawn yours when you’d first met him. And then you’d had a conversation with him and any interest you’d had faded quickly. You lowered your eyes to your plate as you saw Sherlock’s gaze flit to you.

“Come now, gentlemen, I do believe we’re boring our companions,” Cornelius chuckled, casting looks around the table, “Perhaps Mr. Holmes could tell us about the case he’s currently working on?” You felt yourself grow tense as everyone’s attention shifted to Sherlock. If he was rattled by this sudden spotlight, he didn’t show it. His face retained its usual mild expression; the only noticeable change was a now quirked brow in Cornelius’ direction. “What is it you’d like to know?” He asked. “Whatever it is you can tell us,” Cornelius pressed. “I’m not sure there’s much Sherlock can say about this one at present,” Mycroft’s voice was tight as he reached for his glass of wine. You watched him take a rather long sip before he lowered the glass to the table. The hand that had been holding it rested on the cloth, balled into a fist. “Is it because it’s confidential, or is it simply dreadfully boring?” Lord Dawson asked. You cast Sherlock a glance, watched him tip his head and narrow his eyes at the question. Oh dear. “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.” “The truth?” Dawson repeated, brows raised in amusement, “What excitement can one find in the truth?” “About as much excitement as you find at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. Is it still under the management of Madame Vestris?” “Sherlock,” Mycroft hurried to hiss from the other end of the table. But the damage had been done. You watched as the blood drained from Dawson’s face. The comment had landed with the other gentlemen at the table, and, unfortunately, with you. Uncle Cornelius, in one of his more intoxicated states, had once made mention of ‘the pretty ladies he’d been in the company of’ at the Theatre Royal. You weren’t naïve; you knew that they were ladies of the night. You reached for your glass of wine, avoiding the eyes of both Sherlock and Lord Dawson as they looked to you for a reaction. “I quite loved H.M.S. Pinafore!” Cornelius piped up in the hopes of breaking the tension. -- After dinner, the ladies had adjourned to the sitting room for a glass of wine and some conversation; the men had remained in the dining room for brandy and cigars. You had only been able to stand the chatter for a few minutes before you excused yourself. You stepped out into the garden, sighing into the night air and allowing your shoulders to sag just a little. Dinner had been no less than a disaster. Even after Cornelius had moved the conversation on, there had been glares and harsh words veiled as polite conversation between Sherlock and Dawson. You had hated it; you knew that this would be awful, but you couldn’t have fathomed it would be nearly this bad. “Are you cold?” You jumped at the sound of his voice. Sherlock held his hands up in apology as you brought your hand up to your chest, feeling your heart pound. “No,” You lied, the word harsh in your irritation. If he knew you were lying, he didn’t call you on it. Sherlock turned, beginning to wander around the garden in silence. You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to warm them as he was looking elsewhere. As you saw him turn back toward you, you quickly lowered your hands, clasping them in front of you. “What are you doing out here?” You asked. “I wanted some air,” Sherlock excused. “There’s plenty of air inside.” “And you?” Sherlock asked, “What drew you out?” “... It was too warm in the sitting room,” You fibbed. Sherlock hummed, clearly unconvinced before he began to wander the garden again. “Did they teach you to lie at finishing school?” He had meant it to be a joke, but you nodded and said, “In a way.” His brow furrowed. “Explain,” He requested. You looked down at your hands, considering. “Well... You’re taught to comport yourself according to the rules of society. How to sit, how to eat, how to smile, how to speak, how to laugh. And you’re taught to act that way regardless of however you may truly be, or however you may feel. You learn to become someone else, for the sake of society...Though everyone tells you that it’s for your own sake.” When you looked at Sherlock, you found him watching you closely. “...Promise me you’ll find Enola before Mycroft does,” You pleaded softly. His mouth turned down in irritation. “I’m doing everything I can, dove,” Sherlock swore. “If you were doing everything, you wouldn’t be taking breaks to ruin dinner parties,” You retorted. Sherlock grunted, turning away from you. “Your Lord Dawson is quite the character,” He commented. The butterflies in your stomach began to swirl about in an uneasy flurry. “How so?” You asked. “Well, he’s quite blunt, firm in his opinions. He seems to be under the impression that you’re meek, soft...Though maybe that was the fault of the gardenia,” he glanced back at you. You let out an irritated huff, reaching up and yanking the flower that Mrs. Lloyd had put in your hair out, tossing it on the stone bench near you. You glowered at the sight of Sherlock’s amused smile. “I’m sure Mycroft will be quite cross with you for what you said to Fredrick,” You commented. “Fredrick?” Sherlock repeated, stopping in his place, a thread of incredulity in his tone. You arched a challenging brow, silently daring him to comment on the name further. Rather than press, Sherlock said, “I’m sure Mycroft is already taking the pains to smooth things over. You’re familiar with Dawson, do you think he’s amenable?” “Your brother has a reputation for being persistent to the point of ruthlessness. I’m sure his success is imminent.” “I wasn’t asking you about my brother,” Sherlock pointed out. He tucked his hands behind his back, regarding you. “...Could you be happy with him?” The question took you aback, but your answer was prepared - it was the same thing you’d been telling yourself for months: “My family would stop worrying about my future. It would be a weight off of their mind, and therefore mine.” “That isn’t an answer.” “Yes it is,” You argued. Sherlock considered this. “I disagree,” He finally said, “Let me ask again.” He began to cross the garden toward you in slow, steady steps as he spoke, “Would you be happy, being Lady Dawson? Attending opening day at Ascot? Wearing the latest fashions? Having your name in the papers whenever your husband takes up another of his several affairs?” Your stomach churned uneasily, heart pounding as Sherlock stared you down. “Stop it,” You mumbled. “Bearing two, three little lords or ladies? Shipping them off to school--” “Stop it!” You snapped more loudly. Sherlock went still at that, close enough for you to see the flicker of shock in his eyes. You shook your head a little bit, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment to quell the tears that had begun to prickle, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you looked at him again. “You’re just as bad as Mycroft sometimes, you know? Prodding me to see how quickly you can get a rise out of me like I’m some experiment and not a person. It’s cruel.” Then you saw it again - the flash of hurt that had crossed Sherlock’s face back at Ferndell. But it didn’t disappear this time. Instead it settled, twisting his handsome features as his eyes lowered to the ground. “You did it when we were young, too. Maybe it was fair then, maybe I was just this irritating noise-making thing that you wanted away from you. But we’re not children anymore,” You reprimanded him, “And what I may have to do to maintain my family’s social standing is none of your concern, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock looked at you then, eyes skating over your face before he met your gaze. “Your eyes are red,” He said. Irritation shot through you. “I’m not a case, Sherlock,” You sneered before you turned away, intending to leave. Sherlock’s hand caught hold of yours, stilling you. “Let go,” You hissed. “Dove.” His tone was beseeching, gentle. You didn’t trust it. “Let go of me,” You demanded. He did, and you strode away, leaving him alone in the night. -- “Are you alright? ... My dear, you’re shaking,” Mrs. Lloyd gripped you by the shoulders, steering you back into the study. “I-- It was colder than I anticipated,” You excused. You allowed yourself to be steered into a chair by the fire, folded into a blanket, the others fussing about you catching your death. No one noticed the gardenia missing from your hair. No one noticed the white petals peeking out from the pocket of Sherlock’s jacket as he bid Cornelius a good night. -- “Breakfast is on the table. And there’s been a delivery for you - it’s in your study,” Your mother informed you. You thanked her quietly before turning back to your vanity to finish pinning up your hair. You were glad to be home. Your last two days in London had been entirely uneventful. You’d met with your father’s other investor (with minimal condescension; the gentleman had actually been somewhat pleasant) and dropped in on your aunt one more time before traveling home. You hadn’t heard from Dawson, which was a relief. You’d heard nothing from Sherlock. That should’ve been a relief, but it was, in fact, agonizing. You told yourself it was because it meant that you had no news of Enola, but you knew that it was more than that. You couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you may’ve said or done if you’d turned back to him when he’d wanted you to. You hadn’t sought him out despite this curiosity, either in person or by post; he had a case to work on. Besides, you didn’t know what you’d say to him even if you did see him. You two seemed to turn to bickering when left to your own devices. Your curiosity about the delivery won out over your hunger, and you went into your study. There was a beautiful white satin glass vase sitting on your desk filled with purple hyacinths. You knew what those flowers meant well enough - you’d sent them to your Aunt Mary the last time you’d failed to send her a formal thank you note for a dinner party you’d attended at her home. Purple hyacinths were for apologies. You stepped closer to them warily, gently fingering the petals. Your eyes fell to the envelope beside the vase, and your stomach gave a little flip. Sherlock’s handwriting hadn’t changed after all this time; his penmanship had always had a crisp, almost tight quality to it. You picked the envelope up, pulling the note out. Please forgive me, dove. -S.H. At the very bottom of the note was an address for Miss Harrison’s Finishing School. Tag list: @run-through-wa11s ; @thefallenbibliophilequote ; @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem ; @maan24 ; @awkward-walking-potato ; @madalore ; @alexa-lightwood-blog ; @chelseaxaz ; @marwritesgood ; @runawayolives ; @parkerismybaby

#When We Were Young #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock Holmes Imagine #Sherlock Holmes Henry Cavill #Sherlock Holmes/You #Sherlock Holmes/Reader

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cafeacademia · 3 years

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Guardian | Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: After months of no contact with your soulmate, you begin to finally act on your suspicions, only to learn a difficult truth about your close friend, Draco.

Warnings: Sadness, some fluff, mention of abusive environments (Draco being involved with his father, Voldy and death eaters).

Word count: Approx 3200

Masterlist

NOTE: This story is following a slightly altered AU, in which Fred and George are still at school and Harry does not go for Draco after Katie Bell’s possession.

A/N: Hi loves! Here’s the next chapter! I did struggle a little with this one, but I’m really happy with it. I hope you enjoy this part and I promise there is some fluff coming for these two soon, enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

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Was it ever enough? The spilled ink, the black stained fingertips having spent hours writing with a quill. The way the pages crinkled under the heavy use, words that did not spell out a work of fiction, but that of the tale of two souls meant to be.

Was it enough to bring back what was lost by writing to him often? You couldn't know, but all you could do was try.

It was well beyond the start of your first term in your sixth year and as the leaves fell and the seasons changed, the forest surrounding the grounds with deep red and orange hues, you wondered where he could have gone, what had happened to him?

But as you wandered through the grounds, the clouds drew in, bringing a sudden downpour with them. Being quite far from the castle, the closest spot for shelter in the heavy rain was the owlery and quickly, you tugged your jacket over your head and sprinted across the wet grass towards the stone tower.

Taking care not to slip on the steps on your way up, you heaved out a sigh when you finally got yourself through the doorway. It wasn’t much warmer in the enclosed space, but it was at least dry.

It was a particularly odd Sunday, the weather had been changing all day, though you knew as winter drew in that this time of year was often very rainy and ever changing, just like autumn itself.

Backing further into the owlery, you shivered, trying to warm yourself up a little bit, but as the strong winds blew across the grounds and swept through the openings between the stones in the owlery walls, you chilled even more.

Suddenly, without even a whisper, having seemingly appeared out of no where, You felt something being draped around your shoulders and you jumped, looking over your shoulder to see yourself face to face with a Slytherin. “Draco?” It came out as a gasp. All he could do was meet your gaze with the cold blue hues of his eyes, barely managing a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes, one that appeared forced and perhaps even painful. His eyes were deep with the weight of his emotions, things he wish he could tell someone, but he had to keep them locked away as far down in himself as he could.

The ashen haired boy had barely even looked at you since the end of the last school year and a few weeks after your return to Hogwarts, it was increasingly obvious that he didn’t want to be around you.

“Harry is under the impression Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater.” Hermione had said it as if even she herself could not believe it to be true and you weren’t sure if you were lucky, or terribly placed at the wrong place at the wrong time to hear something that, despite your better judgement, caused your heart to ache.

What had he been pulled into? You couldn’t know for certain, but even now as you looked up at him and met his soft gaze, you knew that whatever he was taking part in was not through choice.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, pulling the jacket he had draped over your shoulders around you a little more, only receiving a small nod from him. “Draco.” You reached out for him, your hand catching his wrist before he had a chance to turn away from you. And for a moment, Draco allowed himself to be touched, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of your gentle touch, but as he met your eyes, he slowly slipped his wrist out of your grasp and took a step back. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He said, attempting a smile before ducking out of the doorway and disappearing down the steps into the heavy downpour.

Your heart ached at the way he had pulled away, at the deep regret he had held in his eyes as he had turned away from you. Pulling his coat around you even more, you were thankful at least, that returning his coat to him would allow you a moment to speak to him soon and you hoped you could get a moment alone with your friend soon.

Having made your way back to the castle after a ten minute wait for the downpour of cease, you headed back up to your dormitory to dry off and warm up. And as you perched on your bed with a blanket wrapped around yourself, you sighed, leaning down to gently take the small leather bound book out of the top of your school bag. Flicking through the pages, you turned to the last one that had been written on, only your handwriting occupying the crinkled, slightly yellowed paper and you sighed, your eyes landing on the words you had last written to him, drawing in a breath to speak them out loud. “Where are you?”

Draco hated it. He hated that every time he closed his eyes, all he saw, all he heard were things that haunted him. It was as if his mind could not truly allow him to rest, not without being reminded what dreadful things were happening and what were to come. But it was the worst when what he saw when he closed his eyes was the way his father had snatched the book from him, his voice full of opportunity.

***

“Do you know who this soulmate of yours is, Draco?” Lucius had asked. “No, father.” Draco lied, keeping his features neutral, his eyes passing over the book that was clutched in his father’s strong grip. Lucius cast a lingering stare at his son, judgement in his eyes as he considered his answer.

Draco knew he could not give away that he did, in fact know who his soulmate was, because surely someone might want to use you against him and he certainly did not put it past those around him to do so. Even if his father were to not use that information, he was sure someone else might, especially as motivation to carry out tasks. He knew already that anyone knowing about his soulmate even existing was bad enough, because even without knowing who you were, people could still use it as leverage. “Now, now, don’t look so miserable. You may have this back once you’ve tended to your duties.” Lucius had told him.

***

Draco looking down, pulling up his shirt sleeve to look at the image of the dark mark imprinted in his skin. Following the curve of the snake as it trailed over the veins in his wrist, Draco felt sick to his stomach. His eyes glanced up to land on the book. It was scratched up, dented and damaged, the golden gilding worn and scuffed off some of the edges, one of the metal corner protectors had gone missing and a few of the gold painted page edges were folded and ripped. It made his heart ache. It made Draco feel a uncontrollable, seething anger, a want to cry and scream and protect what was his with everything he had. But he could not.

They had all ridiculed him, used the book as a way to force him closer to the same lifestyle that they followed and Draco hated it. He resented everything they had used his book to make him do. Because it wasn’t just a book they were using, they had used you. And even though the book was now back in his possession after being confiscated more than once, thrown about and damaged on purpose to taunt him, despite the fact that he now held it as close to him as possible, he refused to use it.

What if someone were take his memories and view them? What if someone found out what he talked about? Or more importantly who he talked to. But with each passing day, his eyes landing on the old, tattered book, simultaneously a symbol of both hope and pain, Draco longer to open the cover and read the contents.

His aunt Bellatrix had tried to force him to read it out, but as if the book had known what was happening to both him and itself, it appeared blank no matter what they did, no matter how they tried to strip it of it’s concealment charms. Draco just could not bring himself to read your words, to see what you might have written in his absence, to see what his silence might have done.

“Soulmates? You can’t be serious, that’s all a bunch of old fairy tales.” Ron brushed it off. “Don’t be ridiculous Ronald.” Hermione sighed, about to curb his argument. “It’s not!” Neville suddenly burst into the argument, having seen you looking rather out of depth from the reaction you’d gotten from Ron. “My parents are soulmates too.” Neville said in a softer tone that time, giving you a kind smile as he looked across at you.

“With a book too?” You asked, now intrigued while Ron gave you both a look of confusion, having genuinely thought you had been pulling his leg when Fred and George had pestered it out of you. “No, they can hear each other’s thoughts.” Neville explained. “Do you know who yours is?” Harry asked, leaning over in his seat to join the conversation. “I can’t be sure, but I have a couple of theories.” You replied, leaning forwards and resting your chin on your hand. “Well, who is it then?” Fred asked with a big grin on his face at the idea of some brilliant gossip. “None of you would believe me even if I told you.”

“I would.” Luna smiled sweetly at you as she approached the bench, Neville almost immediately shuffling up and accidentally bumping George a little to give her some space to sit between you and him. “I believe in soulmates too, they are fascinating, don’t you think?” She asked. ”I just wish mine would talk to me again, he’s been quiet for months.” You sighed as Ron, Hermione and Ginny began to discuss something else with the twins. “You really don’t know who it is?” Luna asked. “My grandmother told me that soulmates are often much closer than you expect them to be, maybe there’s someone hiding in plain sight, waiting for you to realise that it’s them.” She told you, giving you a sweet little smile before she turned away to talk to Neville.

Perhaps Luna was right and perhaps, despite feeling a bit silly for thinking it might be someone you already knew, she was right and if your soulmate, whoever he really was, was very much absent and maybe it was time to really find out for sure.

Ron had suggested the use of Felix Felicis, but it felt wrong to use a potion in an attempt to cheat your way into knowing who your soulmate was, but as the weeks passed and you left the falling leaves behind, along with the events that took place and had shaken everyone who had seen Katie Bell tragically possessed, you began to wonder if the idea wasn’t so bad after all. The year seemed more bleak as time passed and even as you passed into spring, it felt as if the tension in the castle was ready to snap at any moment.

Despite the tempting idea of brewing liquid luck and using it to find him, another part of you was reluctant, not because you felt it was wrong or like it was cheating at something you obviously should see through to the end, but because you had a feeling you already knew who it was.

But just as you feared his sudden coldness being the only worry and the fact that you had not found a single moment in which Draco would take his coat back from you from months ago, you feared the reasons he might not be speaking to you at all. Why was he so cold to you? The chill hurt. Walking into the great hall, the chatter between the trio as you passed them seemed to only be of one thing and it shook you as deeply as it had everyone else who had witnessed it. The horrifying way she had moved in such an unnatural way, how she had contorted and her face had been taken over by something terrible. Katie Bell’s possession.

“It was Malfoy, I’m sure of it.” Harry was adamant and the conviction in his voice was enough to chill everyone in earshot. And when you had swept passed the trio, looking for a seat elsewhere, you turned to see Draco standing in the middle of the hall, his face riddled with regret, shame and something that swam deep in his eyes as he looked at you. He held your gaze for a moment, your movements still as you stood in front of a bench, your eyes not leaving his. It was as if he was silently pleading you, as if he was asking you to help him, reaching out for something, for someone.

But just as you slowly moved a step in his direction, he turned and fled, Harry leaping up from his seat, but being yanked back by Hermione as you rushed after the Slytherin.

You tried to keep up with his quick pace, Draco weaving around corners and slipping through half open doors so quickly that if you hadn’t been paying enough attention, you might have lost him.

Finally, you rounded the doorway into the bathroom, seeing Draco hunched over a sink, his hair messed up and out of place, sobs shaking his body as he tried to wash the pain away with water.

“Draco,” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to startle him and he turned to look at you with fear in his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Your heart broke, your throat clenching tight at the sight of him in such a state. “I had to do it.” He sobbed, backing against the wall and sliding down onto the cold stone below. “He made me do it.”

Slowly, you crossed the bathroom, carefully kneeling down in front of him and reaching out, tentatively at first to brush his hair from his face. “I tried so hard to protect-.” He stopped himself, a sob interrupting mid sentence and Draco heaved for breath as he reached for you. And just as he had done for you, when he had held you so many times when you felt nothing but pain and hurt and everything in between, you held him in your arms too. The beating of your heart soothed him as he cried against your shoulder, his hands holding you with a weak grip and slowly, his sobs softened as you held him tightly, softly stroking his hair.

“He made me do it.” Draco repeated, parting from you for a moment, pulling his sleeve up to show you, but he would not meet your eyes. The dark mark was like binding seal on his wrist, one that bound him to a life he did not want and you knew that the Draco his father was trying to make him be, was not the Draco you knew.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, pulling him back against you and hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Draco.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes, seeing someone you cared so deeply for, someone who you had secretly bonded with for years was being torn apart and put back together as someone he was not meant to be and you hated to see it happen.

“I can’t be around you, I can’t look at you, he’ll know.” Draco whispered, hugging you tightly around the middle. “You don’t deserve this pain, you deserve something more, something better.” You told him. Draco didn’t feel like he did, he didn’t feel like he deserved anything better and he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved you either.

“I’m sorry.” Draco cried, pulling away and wiping harshly at his tears. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.” He said, moving to get up, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could go. “Then talk to me by paper and quill. Like we used to.” You told him, and while your words could have implied your little notes during class or the letters during the summer, both of you knew what that had really meant. “Okay.” He nodded, trying to move away again, but you stopped him once more.

“Hold on, take this.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffling as you reached into your robe pocket to pull out the beautiful green handkerchief he had given you three years prior. “You still have it.” He whispered. “Of course.” You nodded, reaching up to wipe your tears away. “I can’t take it, love. You keep it.” Draco said, gently using his fingers to close your own around the handkerchief and pushing it back against your chest.

“I still have your coat.” You added as you felt his touch linger on your hand. “You’ll keep it safe for me, won’t you?” He asked. “Of course.” You nodded. “Why, are you going somewhere?” You asked. Draco paused, almost daring himself to look up at you, to meet your eyes one last time, but he resisted and sighed. “It might be a while before you see me again.” He told you, gently trailing his fingertips over the back of your hand. “But… I will see you again, won’t I?” You asked. “I promise, we will.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” Draco whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left you alone in the bathroom, walking away to prepare to carry out his biggest and most dreaded task. And he wondered as he descended into the dungeons, how you could ever love him after he had performed the things he must do.

But Draco had been right, because only months later, with no communication with each other aside from the odd glance here and there, he disappeared completely.

Promise me, you will not come looking for me. It was scrawled quickly onto a page and for the first time in nearly a year, you saw his writing join yours again on the paper of your book. You sighed as you read those words, sitting in your dormitory amidst the horrible realisation of what had taken place, that death eaters had killed Albus Dumbledore.

Leaping up from your bed, you grabbed a quill from your bag and opened the inkwell at your desk before writing your reply. I promise, but you must promise to find me when it’s safe. You wrote back.

Minutes passed and not a single drop of ink came through. Minutes turned into hours and while you thought he might not write back at all, you cast a quick glance at the page before you finally decided to try and sleep to see his words amongst yours again.

I promise.

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

The Misty Planet

Here we go. By request, a story (or, in this case, story line) where the Scoundrels meet Deus from the Empyrean Iris stories by starr-fall-knight-rise. Things play out a little differently here, because this time, the Great Game has begun, and there are now more players...

“The game is afoot.” -Sherlock Holmes

The view from the starship’s bridge was quite the sight to behold. A massive red star, glowing with power, shone from outside. The windows were tinted, of course, to allow the individuals inside to see without damaging their vision. But, mighty as the star was, it was another structure that the individuals were examining. The second star. Smaller, but no less beautiful than the first. This one, though, had strange, alien structures orbiting it. Which was why the group was here.

“So. We’re the bloody universe’s problem solvers, I suppose,” muttered Thomas Drake, itching his nose with the edge of a black-gloved finger.

“Well, we were the first to make contact with each other and the other galaxies after the… time-screwy thing. We also prevented the attack on the Citadel, and found out who was behind it,” replied Shepard. “Still working on finding the Shadow Broker and why he… or she, possibly, would want to kill the members of almost every government in the universe.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll figure that one out later. One problem at a time,” sighed Krirk.

“I’m good with that,” said Drake. “Now. On to business. Admiral Vir. Why the hell are we here?” Vir walked up to the viewing glass and let out a low sigh.

“Well, basically, here’s the deal. My crew and I came to the Polaris star, which most of you ought to recognize as it exists in all of your galaxies except one, and saw this weird, unknown structure on Polaris Ab, the smaller star of the two main ones. We have also discovered a planet nearby.” Vir went to a console and pulled up an image, taken from the ground of a strange looking alien wasteland. He let out a deep breath before going on. “This was a picture taken on a very similar planet that my crew found in the past. The two seem to be related.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” muttered Solo. Cooper gave him a blank stare.

“Do you ever not?”

“Occasionally,” huffed Solo. “When we aren’t going to mysterious planets covered with red mist and big black pillars.”

“I agree. The whole thing is rather… ominous,” said Shepard.

“Well, if in doubt, we nuke the whole thing and be done with it,” said Drake. Vir gave him a long-suffering side glance.

“No. We are not going to nuke it,” he said. “There is too much information at stake.” He sighed again. “On that planet, we, or some of my crew and I, received visions of an entity called ‘Deus.’ What Deus is or what it wants we do not know. However, we believe that these planets are somehow aligned.” The holographic image changed, showing the Polaris system interlinked with the other strange, red planet, the Drev homeoworld, the Celzex homeworld, and Earth. “What this place is, who created the massive structure on Polaris Ab, and why these systems are all interlinked is what we are here to find out,” finished Vir.

“Visions?” asked Cain. Not good. Most definitely not good.

“Yes,” replied Vir. “Not harmful or long lasting, though.” The group was silent for a moment, as they decided on how to approach this. Throughout his career as a ship’s captain, and later, admiral, Vir usually operated on his best judgement. While occasionally shaky at times, it usually won the day. However, when wasn’t sure what to do, he usually asked himself one question: what would Captain Kirk do? Well, Kirk was now here, in the same room, and apparently he didn’t have any clue either. Might as well find out what he thinks, I suppose. “Captain Kirk? You seem to be in these sorts of situations a lot. What do you think we should do?” Kirk looked over with a frown.

“We should investigate,” he said finally. “I don’t particularly like it, never have, never will, but we have to see what’s going on all the same.” The group nodded to each other.

“Cooper and Solo, you stay up here in case anything… funny goes on,” ordered Vir. The two nodded their consent. “The rest of us… prepare. Meet you on these coordinates on planet in 45 minutes.”

Aboard the Apocalypse

“Right you sorry lot! We are going planetside to investigate a bunch of alien architecture. There may or may not be hostiles, but this place gives me the creeps,” announced Drake. The Third Squad of armsmen looked over to him. Lucky them. They drew duty rotation when we’re above disturbing planet central. “I’ve been around long enough, seen enough, heard enough stories, and watched enough horror movies to know what’s probably going to happen.” As he said this, a pair of robotic arms locked his armor in place. The armsmen were gearing up and checking their weapons, but still listening intently. “You are going to bring full combat gear, full weapons, the works! The whole works! Everyone is going to be wearing fully sealed armor, and carry an extra respirator on hand, just in case. You are also bringing provisions, again, just in case.” Drake grabbed his plasma rifle and double, then triple checked it. He then keyed his comms. “Richter. Ordelphine. If for some reason we do not make it back, you are not to send any more soldiers down. You have full authorizations for Genesis 19 protocols. Use your best judgement. I trust you two more than anyone else in this fleet, so do not allow them to override you. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” On the other side of the comms line, Richter and Ordelphine winced. Genesis 19 was code for the complete nuclear annihilation of anything on a planet deemed to be a threat. Drake wasn’t taking any chances here, it seemed.

Aboard the Normandy

Shepard took up a heavy machine gun and checked the ammunition. This place reminded him too much of old Prothean planets, and the beacons located on them. The massive black pillars and the visions Vir and his crew got from being near them were too much like the beacon he had touched on Eden Prime… He still had nightmares about that mission. This time, he was taking no chances. Instead of taking a full team with him, he decided to go with what he normally did, and take three ground crew members. All were carefully selected. Garrus, because he wouldn’t trust anyone else to have his back as well as the Turian sniper. Samara. An ancient Asari biotic. None more powerful or calm in a crisis. Lastly, Mordin. A Salarian scientist. The only expert he had at the moment who might be able to figure out what these ruins were. He hoped it would be enough.

Aboard the Enterprise

Kirk, Spock and Master Chief stood next to the cylindrical grey transporters of the Enterprise. The two Starfleet officers stood, checking their phasers and respirator masks, making sure nothing would go wrong once they got planetside. Alongside them were a group of low ranking redshirts (hopefully they wouldn’t die this time, though Kirk was less than hopeful) and the massive, green-clad figure of the Chief. Said figure was currently looking over all of his weapons, making sure they were all there and battle ready. Out of all the Scoundrels, it went without saying that he was the most physically powerful. It would be his duty to eradicate anything particularly big or nasty they found on the planet. If, of course, there was actually anything there. The fleet’s scanners had picked up no life signs, but everyone was still on edge. Kirk nodded and the group stepped into the transporter.

“Beam us up, Scotty.”

Aboard the Omen

Commissar Cain leaned against a shuttle in the Omen’s massive hangar bay. Of course, as the regiment’s champion of all things strange and alien, he had been chosen to lead the surface party. He couldn’t say no. How would it look to refuse to partake in a mission of this calibre in front of not only the Valhallans, but the Omen’s crew as well? He would lose his status if he did. So, it was with a very heavy heart that he warily donned his tattered set of carapace armor, strapped on his weapons, and made his way to the hangar. Sargent Grifen was already there, along with her squad. At least it was Grifen. Cain had gone through a necron tomb with her squad and lived. If he trusted anyone in the regiment with this mission, it was her. And, of course, Jurgen. Cain’s aide stood by his side, his ever present smell lingering in the air. In his hands he held his melta gun, a weapon that had saved both their lives on numerous occasions. Cain was sure Jurgen had other trinkets hidden in his pouches, in addition to the las rifle slung across his back. Jurgen was ever prepared for anything.

Cain looked up and over to where Admiral Vir entered the hangar. He was backed up by a full contingent of marines and members of the Drev clan, followed by a few of the ship’s scientists. Vir was wearing his suit of Iron Eye armor, fully insulated against the outside atmosphere. Inside it, he was one of the group’s resident super soldiers, able to perform feats no ordinary person could ever aspire to. Vir nodded as the Drev came to ease, resting their spears on the floor, and the marines checked their rifles one last time.

“Let’s get going then, shall we?”

On the Planet

The Omen’s shuttle had landed in some sort of marshland, brackish water reaching up to the group’s shins. Red mist stretched as far as the eye could see. Black plants and a few totally black, dead trees littered the ground. The Milano was parked nearby, on a larger solid stretch of ground, and Quill lounged outside it while his crew looked merely bored at the lack of action on this strange planet. The Valhallans filed out of the shuttle, looking apprehensive in contrast to the Quill’s boredom and Vir’s excitement over exploring new planets. A tiled black road led to some sort of black mass in the distance. A city, if Vir had to guess. How exciting!

A high whining sound rang out, and Kirk, Spock, and Master Chief teleported in alongside a contingent of Starfleet red-shirts. The Chief stood statue still, weapons ready, as the Starfleet operatives joined the crew of the Omen in examining the black plant life that dotted the ground and the spaces in between the road tiles.

The roar of shuttle engineers pierced the air, and the Normandy’s sleek shuttle made its descent alongside the Apocalypse’s heavy gunship transport. Shepard, Garrus, and two aliens Vir and Cain didn’t recognize stepped out of the first, while Drake and a full contingent of armsmen.

One of Shepard’s crew, a Salarian, by the looks of him, made a b-line to the scientists examining the plants, while Shepard and the other two greeted Quill. The Apocalypse’s armsmen disembarked quickly, weapons at the ready as if they were on an active battlefield. Drake made a circular motion to the shuttle pilot, who gave a thumbs up and immediately took off. Drake approached Cain and gave a curt nodd.

“This is your galaxy, Vir, so you’re in charge, but I don’t like the looks of this place. I don’t want to spend a second longer here than I need to.” Cain nodded.

“I agree. This reminds me too much of some of the… stranger things I’ve seen.” Vir pointed to the buildings on the horizon.

“I understand,” he said reassuringly. “Plus, we need to investigate that way anyway. Let's move on.” Vir made a motion to the scientists still crouched along the beginning of the pathway. Dr. Wilson, one of the Omen’s scientists, looked up and held out a vial of the black plant.

“These are all dead. But they’re remarkably well preserved…”

“Wilson is right. Planet is dead. Was once alive, but now everything here is lifeless. Strangely well preserved, though,” rattled off the Salarian, almost without any breaths.

“I’m liking this less and less,” muttered Cain.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The group had walked the long titled road in silence, the red mist swirling around them. At one point, there was a rain storm, and Vir had ordered everyone inside one of the decayed buildings they had finally reached. Everyone had taken it differently. Shepard and his crew looked apprehensive. The crews of the Omen and Enterprise were looking over everything with curiosity. Master Chief, Drake, Cain, the Valhallans, and the Apocalypse’s armsmen were fanned out, weapons raised, clearing corners and rooms as if they were expecting something to pop out of the dark any minute. Quill and his Guardians merely looked bored. Again.

They had moved on further since then, into the city itself. Huge black buildings, in varying states of decay, loomed ominously through the fog. The scientists were all muttering to each other as the took readings, while the soldiers had all unconsciously moved into wedge formations. Drake’s gunship whined overhead, ready to provide close air support at his request. Some might have called it overkill and over-caution, but Drake hadn’t lived this long by not taking such measures.

At this point, Vir was starting to get creeped out. Everything here was… wrong, somehow. It was like a faint childhood memory that one knew they remembered, but couldn’t actually remember. The place was… familiar. Sacred, somehow. In addition, it was a decayed city with no signs of life, and no signs of what had happened to it.

“Anyone know what might have happened here?” he whispered to the rest of the group. Somehow, it felt wrong to raise his voice.

“No. Not the Borg’s style,” replied Kirk.

“Reapers would have been more thorough,” whispered back Shepard.

“I have no idea…” trailed off Cain. In actuality, he had a few ideas. None of them good. None of them he could say, either.

They came to a central spot, the roads all branching into what looked to be a main square. A large building rose up in front of them, looking distinctly human in style.

“Should we investigate?” asked Shepard.

“Yes, and no,” replied Drake. “I think some of us should stay here, outside, to make sure no one attacks our rear, while others go inside to investigate.”

“That makes… tactical sense,” replied Vir with a nodd. “Alright. Quill and Chief, along with some of the Enterprise’s crew and Valhallans, stay here. The rest of you, follow me.”

The building, as it turned out, was some sort of massive laboratory. There were test tubes of strange, glowing liquid, some form of massive, incomplete mech hanging on calves, and endless rows of filing cabinets. There were huge factory floors, complete with conveyor belts, all decayed and rusted into ignominy, and rooms filled with rows upon rows of vats of sludge. With every passing room, the entering group got more and more apprehensive. What the hell is this place? What were they doing? Vir wanted to yell. It was all so very strange. So very… creepy.

This went on for some time, the invaders of this strange sanctum touching nothing, until they got to a central room. The heavy blast doors that should have protected it were open. Not a good sign. In the center of the room was a pedestal, and upon the pedestal, a glowing white ball.

“Safeties off,” hissed Drake. “If there’s an ambush coming, now’s as good a time as any.” Vir, Wilson, Kirk, and Shepard walked up to the ball.

“What the hell is this?” asked Shepard warily.

“I don’t know,” replied Vir. “Maybe… some sort of artifact? Communication device? No clue.” Wilson reached out.

“Don’t touch it!” screamed Cain and Shepard as one. It was too late. As soon as Wilson’s skin made contact with the glowing ball, a blast of pure white energy rang throughout the room, knocking everyone off their feet. Soldiers flew in tangles of weapons, and scientists stumbled and knocked into walls.

Cain slid on the floor, and shook his head a moment to clear it of the force the ball had unleashed. He looked around. The Valhallans stood up, checking their weapons to make sure they were still working. Shepard’s team stood up, Garrus bringing his rifle around and Samara glowing with blue energy. Kril and the Salarian scientist stood up. Rigaldis, leader of the Apocalypse armsmen, pushed himself to his feet. All of the aliens were fine. All of the Imperial humans were fine. But the rest, the other humans… Cain checked Shepard’s neck for a pulse. It was there. They were all alive, but completely unconscious.

“What the hell was that?” asked one of the Valhallans.

“Don’t know,” murmured Cain as he studied the unconscious humans. With a suddenness that caused the medic checking him to recoil, Vir’s one organic eye snapped open. It looked straight ahead, completely unseeing, and seemed to have an incandescent white glow about it. The medic waved his hand in front of Vir. He didn’t blink.

“Deus…” he murmured, before falling once more into unconsciousness. Everyone looked around uneasily.

“What do we do?” asked one of the red shirts.

“Don’t touch that,” Cain pointed at the white orb, “But bring them outside. We can’t leave them here.”

Outside was calm, or, as calm as a planet filled with roiling red fog could be. Quill and Master Chief walked up to the group, noticing the bodies flung across many of the soldiers’ backs.

“What the hell happened?” asked the Chief.

“One of the scientists touched some sort of strange white orb,” replied Cain. “It knocked them all unconscious.”

“We noticed some sort of burst of white energy,” said Quill. “Didn’t know what it was. Now we do, I guess,” he added with a shrug.

“What do we do now?” asked the Chief once more.

“It’s a strange, alien artifact, and they seem to be… possessed,” replied Cain. He didn’t want to say it, but there was no avoiding it. All of the unconscious humans had a white glow around their eyes.

“Hmm,” muttered Quill. “Possessed… I think I know someone who might be able to help us here,” he announced after a moment’s deliberation. “I’ll send a message to him.”

“I need to send a message too,” said Cain. “We need to call in the experts.”

Stay tuned, because next time, the experts will arrive, and things are about to get pretty cool...

As per usual, none of these characters except Drake and his crew belong to me. If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns, please, feel free to ask!

#stories #story #writing #my writing #magnificent scoundrels #humans are weird #earth is space australia #mcu #warhammer 40k #empyrean iris #crossover #crossover story #star trek

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scarlet-star-witch · 3 years

Text

Fade Into You - Part 19 (Mandalorian/OC)

Summary: Din has spent a year grieving the love of his life. While he thinks he has lost her forever, she lingers in the darkness, her mind twisted and manipulated, with no memory of him or the love they shared. What will it take for Din to help her remember?

Warnings: SMUT (they just reunited, can you blame me?) and a whole bunch of fluff

First Part Previous Part Next Part

She didn’t leave his arms for the rest of the night. Din wouldn’t let her go even five feet from his grasp. Even when they landed on Nevarro, and Cara had announced their arrival, she could tell by the look on Iella’s face and the rigidity of Din’s body that they needed to be left alone.

Their solace was well needed.

They lay tangled in their cramped bunk, Iella’s legs over his, his arm a comforting weight over her waist. His head lay on the pillow next to hers, his eyes taking in every inch of her as she did the same.

Her fingers gently traced every inch of his features, down the length of his crooked nose that she loved, the wrinkles around his eyes and the crease of his smile. Her eyes greedily drank in the sight before her as if she was still trying to come to terms that this was real.

Din was thankful the child was still tired. Once he’d woken from his deep sleep after using his powers, he refused to let Iella out of his sight, but he now lay sleeping peacefully on her chest, allowing him to finally take off his helmet and look at his wife without any hindrances.

“What was your mother’s name?” He asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence that surrounded them.

“Nivaya.” Iella answered without hesitation.

“How many siblings did you have?”

“Two brothers, both older.”

“What’s your middle name.”

“Sakari. It means sweet in my native language.” She answered swiftly. “How many more questions do I have to answer?” She asked through a stifled yawn.

Getting stabbed and healed within the span of one afternoon really takes it out of a person. And the throbbing in her head, in her now healed brain, hadn’t subsided just yet. She’d been seconds away from sleeping for the last hour, but she refused to let her eyes close, needing to see her husband, to take in his features, just a while longer.

But the need for sleep was quickly becoming too great to ignore any longer.

“Enough until I know that you’re really back.” Din answered, his eyes looking into hers intently.

She could see his fear, his intense need to keep her at his side. She knew he was suffering, that the day was laying heavily on him, and that he needed resolution. The only way she could give it to him was to just simply exist.

Just breathing was a relief to him.

“Din, I know you’re freaking out, I know this is a lot for you to go through, but you have to trust me. I’m ok.

“I can’t take any chances.”

“I know, but I’m so tired, I just wanna sleep.”

Din hesitated, his eyes watching her intently. He could see how exhausted she was and he felt guilty that he’d been keeping her awake, but after what they’d been through, after how terrified he’d been, he found it hard to let himself slip away into unconsciousness.

He kept telling himself, just one more minute, until they had been awake for hours, drinking each other in for almost the entire night.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and Iella frowned, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his lips, which he eagerly responded to.

“Don’t apologize.” She mumbled against his lips. “It’s not like I was ready to stop seeing your beautiful face any time soon.”

Din blushed slightly. He hadn’t heard one of those flirty comments from her in what felt like forever. He’d been living with a shell of the person she had been, the person he had fallen so deeply in love with, and his heart felt like it was about to burst knowing he finally had her back.

“Get some sleep. We’ll take as many days off as we want to, go anywhere we want to.”

“I don’t think Karga would be thrilled.”

Iella just scoffed. “I think we’ve more than earned a vacation.”

“What about the kid?”

Iella paused, looking down at the sleeping creature snuggled into her peacefully. An involuntary smile grew at the adorable sight of him, though it stiffened when she realized they would soon have to work on finding his true home.

“Vacation first, then work.” She answered the difficult question simply.

Din nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly, and tightened his grip on her waist, nuzzling in closer in the crook of her neck, his eyes blissfully falling closed.

“If you wake up first, don’t leave. Wake me before you do.” He whispered and Iella’s heart felt like cracking at the vulnerability she heard in his voice.

“I promise.” She spoke softly, hoping he wouldn’t hear in her voice just how close to tears his words brought her.

Knowing how damaged her husband felt from this, how terrified he was to even let her out of his sight now, it made her want to kill Voros all over again.

The image flashed in her mind again, her master bleeding and panicked as the life drained from him.

She swallowed thickly and began brushing her hands through Din’s curly hair, as if to ground herself.

No more thinking about him, she told herself, the mantra repeating in her head as her eyes closed and she easily drifted off to sleep in her husband’s arms, feeling more content than she had in a long time.

~~~

Iella stirred awake, whining softly as she was broken from her sleep by the feel of soft kisses on her neck. Her eyes opened to nothing but darkness and she immediately began to panic as she no longer felt the weight of the child on her chest.

“Din?”

“Right here.” His voice answered in her ear as he continued to plant soft kisses on her skin and she sighed in relief.

“Where’s the kid?”

“In his cradle.”

“Why? I wanted-” Her voice cut off as she felt the blankets being pulled from her, Din’s eager hands crawling up her thighs to the waistband of the sleeping shorts she wore.

He hesitated, his fingers gently teasing the exposed skin at her hips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you… I-I just…” He paused, taking a moment to collect himself of the emotion that threatened to choke him. “I need you. I need to feel you.”

Iella’s heart began to race, the pure want dripping from his voice causing the hairs on her body to stand upright in eager anticipation. She leaned upwards, reaching out in the darkness for him. Her hands wound around his shoulders and she pulled him down so his body lay over hers, his weight a comforting reminder of what she’d missed for so long.

“Please.” She breathed out and she felt Din tremble against her, the sound of her hushed voice making him weak in the knees.

His lips crashed to hers barely a second later.

They moaned against each other as they kissed slowly. Iella expected it to be fiery and frantic, a coupling that was desperate and quick, portraying the overwhelming emotions they were both feeling, but it wasn’t.

Din was careful with her, pouring every ounce of relief and happiness and love into the kiss. He took his time, showering her with affection. He made his way over every inch of her body, revelling in the small gasps, light whimpers, and cries of desperation for more he pulled from her.

He slowly rid her of the remaining clothes she wore, his breathing becoming heavy as he felt her wet heat against him.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Without any warning, he threw her legs up over his shoulders, making her gasp in surprise, which soon turned into a long, loud moan as his mouth began to devour her.

Iella’s back arched as his tongue worked its way through her folds, her hand flying down to grip at his hair, chasing just the little bit of stability she could possibly have in this moment.

He moaned against her, the taste of her driving him wild. He had missed this so much and he would cherish every single moment.

Every one of her moans, every twitch of her legs, every tug on his hair, he would remember forever and never take for granted again.

Her hips slanted upwards, her eyes squeezing shut as he moved his hot tongue over her wet slit.

“Din!” She panted, her head falling back to her shoulders as pleasurable tingles spread throughout her body. Goosebumps arose where he held onto her thighs tightly, his fingers splayed against her skin in an attempt to keep her still.

But her need for him was too great to keep her grounded.

She writhed underneath him, a litany of moaned curses and whimpered pleas escaping her parted lips.

A sharp tug on his hair made him groan against her and he eagerly pushed two fingers inside her, desperate to get her over the edge.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned against her and she bit hard on her bottom lip to hold back the whimper his words caused her.

Hearing the muffled noise, he added another finger inside her, desperate to get her loud, to hear exactly what he was doing to her. He wouldn’t stand for any stifled noises of pleasure.

Her mouth dropped open, a loud moan, bordering on a scream, escaping her without any warning as he worked her body like an expert musician with their instrument.

The sound of her voice laced with ecstasy had him just about ready to explode. He doubled his movements, his eyes closing in bliss at the taste of her and the way she spoke his name over and over like a prayer.

“Din, please, please.” She moaned, her body going rigid as he curled his fingers inside her at the same moment his tongue met her bundle of nerves.

It only took a few more seconds before Iella was arching against him, her hips bucking upwards as she cried his name loudly. He moaned against her, only heightening her release that seemed to go on for ages.

Her chest was heaving with each heavy panting breath that left her lips. Her head was swimming in a dazed pleasure and before she could even come down from her high, Din was hovering over her, his lips crashing to hers frantically.

“I love you so much, my beautiful Riduur. Never letting you go, never losing you again, Cyare.” Din babbled against her lips, his voice strained.

She felt wetness against her cheeks, the knowledge of his tears bringing her own to her eyes. She cradled his face in her hands, kissing him gently, as if it could heal every negative thought in his brain.

“I love you, Din, more than anything in this galaxy.” She whispered to him reverently. “Nothing is ever going to take me away. I’m never leaving your side ever again.” She promised him and she hoped to every god that ever existed that her words would be true.

Her words had a shaking breath escaping him and before he could break down fully, he kissed her again as he slowly slid his throbbing length inside her.

They both tensed and moaned softly, holding onto each other tightly as he settled within her.

He moved slowly, taking his time and savouring every hitched breath and pull of her hands on his skin it earned him. His breathing became ragged, her name a groaned prayer in the quiet room.

Iella blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to stop her tears from falling, but it was no use. She held onto her husband like a lifeline, like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. She never wanted to let go, she knew she would feel lost the second she did.

Her love for him, which had returned to her so overwhelmingly, and being back in his arms, making love to him again, made her break.

A soft sob escaped her, one she couldn’t hold back and the second Din heard it he was raising his head from where he had been placing greedy kisses against her neck and he leaned his forehead against hers, looking down at her worriedly.

His thrusts stopped and he gently wiped her tears.

“El?”

“Don’t stop.” She pleaded, her hands holding tightly to his hips, rolling her own against his to goad him into moving again.

A choked moan escaped him, his eyes quickly squeezing shut as he tried hard to not lose it then and there. He kissed her firmly as he began to slide in and out of her slowly once again.

They stayed there, intertwined, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths intermingling as each moan echoed the others. He reached down, hiking her thigh upwards higher on his hip, allowing him to move even deeper inside her, causing him to grunt and move just the slightest pace faster.

Iella moaned loudly, her nails digging into skin at the toe curling feeling.

Din huffed out a heavy breath, his jaw clenching as he felt his end nearing all too soon. He was too worked up, too desperate for her that he couldn't hold back any longer.

“Iella,” He warned, his voice stiff as his fingers dug into her thigh tightly. The briefest of fears of bruising her flashed through his mind, but before he could even think of easing up, her walls tightened around him, turning his mind to mush and erasing any trace of worry. “Fuck!” He yelled out, his thrusts becoming jarring as he approached the edge.

Iella’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and with just a few powerful thrusts later, she reached ecstasy again. A scream of his name fell from her lips as she trembled against him.

His own echoing scream of her name followed just seconds later as he came hard inside her.

He practically collapsed against her, but she didn’t mind. He was a comforting weight against her. Their heavy breaths were soon the only thing heard in the dark room as aftershocks flowed through them like rolling clouds.

She raked her hands up and down the length of his back that was still shaking slightly.

As their racing hearts slowed, their breathing calming, their bodies becoming limp with pleasured exhaustion, they didn’t move from each other’s arms. The press of his lips lazily moving across her shoulder made her smile lightly and she hugged him against her tighter.

They were perfectly content, something the both of them had needed to feel desperately.

~~~

The next morning Iella woke with a smile on her face and a pleasurable ache between her thighs from the night before.

Din was draped over her like a blanket, his hair tickling her nose, making her face crease happily. She looked down at him, biting her lip to stifle a laugh at how tightly he clung to her, even in his sleep.

“Hey, baby, wake up.” She called out softly, her hands toussling his messy hair.

He moaned tiredly, stirring slightly before waking with a displeased groan. He tightened his grip on her, nuzzling in closer to her.

“Don’t wanna get up.” He moaned and she laughed lightly at the childish whine to his voice.

The sound of her laugh had his own smile growing and he craned his neck to look up at her. Those beautiful eyes of hers felt like a gift to him. The relief that shot through him was so intense he could’ve sworn it stopped his heart.

“We should stay like this for the rest of the day.”

“And who would look after the kid?”

“He has powers. He’s more than qualified to look after himself.” He shrugged, earning him a playful shove from her. Din huffed out a laugh and snuggled in closer to her, his eyes falling closed once again. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

Iella was left unable to refuse. Being back in arms felt too good to give up just yet.

The couple stay wrapped up in each other, indulging in a closeness that had been lost for so long. They were both content, more content that they had been in over a year, and were just moments away from falling back to sleep, when the muffled whine of the child stirred them out of their daze.

Din cursed lightly under his breath and began to slowly heave himself out of bed and away from his wife with a groan.

“I’ll be right there, kid.” Din called out as he began to put his armour on, the helmet being the last piece he put on.

Iella watched with a faraway look in her eye. She always admired how he looked in his suit. It portrayed a controlled figure, one she loved to be dominated by. It stirred something within her, even years later.

The shining new beskar that adorned his body only heightened her admiration and attraction, one her manipulated self couldn’t appreciate fully. She didn’t think the suit could get any better, but she’d obviously been wrong.

“You look good in the new suit.”

Din looked back at her and smirked, her compliment only sending him further into irresponsibility. He was ready to take off every inch of armour he’d just put on and keep themselves locked away from reality until the end of time.

“You better get out there before he tears the ship apart.” She spoke again, knowing exactly where his mind had wandered to and reminding him of what he had gotten out of bed to do.

The mischievous smile on her face made his stomach flip pleasurably. She was her again. She was the teasing yet shy woman he loved and it continued to drive him crazy in the best way possible. He shook his head and opened the door of the bunk.

I’ve missed that, he thought to himself fondly.

Iella slowly sat up, stretching out her aching muscles. She could hear Din tend to the child and the happy coos he received in greeting. Her smile grew, butterflies erupting at the noise. The feeling of completeness she felt being with both of them wasn’t something she expected to feel so greatly.

It always sent a thrill inside her, watching him with the child, but now, with her mind fully restored, her memories of and feelings for Din fully restored, it sent her into a tizzy. She remembered just how much she loved this man and it was the greatest feeling in the galaxy.

It still felt surreal, having all these memories back, finally having a past, a personality, a sense of self.

She slowly crept out of bed, making her way to the fresher, the smile still on her face as she heard Din and the child get breakfast started.

As she stepped into the fresher, not bothering to close the door behind her, her eyes met her reflection in the small mirror in front of her. She pursed her lips at the unkempt state she was in and grabbed a brush, working to undo the mess of tangles Din had caused the night before.

As she pulled her hair back over her shoulder, a glaring red mark on her neck caught her attention.

But it wasn’t a mark left by her husband in passion.

No, it was the mark of torture, where her tracking device had been. The one she had Din cut out her first day back on the Crest, when she’d been… someone else.

Her wistful smile fell, a blank expression overtaking her once bright features. She looked deeply at her reflection, at her eyes, not recognizing the haunted ones that stared back at her.

Who are you?

No one.

Who do you belong to?

You, Master.

What is your job?

To kill.

The words echoed in her head on a loop. Memories swirled in her mind so quickly it left her dizzy. Each one filled with blood and torture and violence, making her wince. Her chest began to feel heavy and tight with despair.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she turned the tap on, splashing cold water on her face, hoping it could lessen the anxiety she suddenly felt.

Like a siren calling to her, she looked up again, meeting her own haunted gaze. It was like she couldn’t resist meeting her trauma, like she felt she needed to face it, like there was no other option but to face it.

Screams of pain and terror echoed in her mind, the screams of her victims, innocent people whose light she snuffed out mercilessly, without remorse.

Now, the remorse was catching up to her and hitting her full force, it felt like it would suffocate her.

“Iella.” Din’s stern voice called out from beside her, making her jump in her spot, her gaze snapping to his. “I was calling you.” He said, slowly reaching out to turn off the tap she’d left running.

“Sorry, I was… zoning out.” She breathed out, plastering on a small smile in the guise of her stability that clearly was severely damaged. But she wasn’t ready to tell him that just yet and ruin this loving reunion they were both basking in.

“Zoning out? Do you think the child did something when he healed-”

“No, no, not like that. I was just lost in thought. You know how I get. My head’s always in the clouds.” She assured him, patting his arm as she passed him to leave the fresher that was suddenly feeling too small and cramped for her to breathe.

Din knew his wife was a dreamer, that she was usually lost in daydreams, but this was different. He had a feeling those clouds her head was in were dark and thunderous, shrouded with horrible memories.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” He said slowly, slightly feeling out of his element as to how to approach the incredibly traumatic events she had faced. He didn’t exactly know what to do to help her, but dammit, he would try his absolute best.

“I know. But there’s nothing to talk about.”

Her side stepping of the situation made him roll his eyes and he walked after her, unable to let this be the end of the conversation.

“El, you were just brought back to life after the man that tortured you and wiped your mind for a year tried to kill you. No one would be ok after that.” He reached for her hand, making her stop in her tracks. The way she refused to meet his eyes was very telling and he could tell just what her anxious mind was telling her.

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong. You’re allowed to have a moment of weakness.”

“I don’t need one. I just need you.”

Din’s expression softened slightly. He didn’t want her to breeze through her trauma, to ignore it and let it fester, but he couldn’t deny that hearing her want him healed his aching heart. After so long of practically begging for her affection with her twisted self, it felt so good to hear her need him again.

To feel wanted by her again was all he wanted and it was such a relief to hear it again.

“Din, I swear to you, I’m ok. I’ll tell you when I’m not.” She told him genuinely, holding his hands tightly.

He nodded, trusting that she would confide in him when she needed to and knowing he shouldn’t push her now.

“So, where are we headed?” She asked, changing the subject. The promise of a vacation was enticing, something she desperately needed to take her mind off things that threatened to break her.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care. As long as I get a king sized bed to stretch out on.”

Din laughed, he certainly couldn’t blame her for that. Their cramped bunk was something they had talked about replacing for years, but they had never gotten around to it.

“I was thinking Naboo. I know you love the waterfalls there.”

Iella smiled widely and nodded. “Yeah. Naboo sounds perfect.”

Din tightened his grip on her hands and leaned down, pressing his armoured forehead against hers, unable to resist the slightest contact.

He had just gotten her back and he would be damned if he didn’t indulge.

“I’ll set the course.” He whispered, taking a few extra seconds to linger in her embrace before he finally forced his feet to move and he made his way up to the cockpit.

It was only a minute later, when the Crest had taken off and was in hyperspace, that he jumped back down into the hull, refusing to be away from her, if only for a few minutes.

He didn’t care if he looked clingy. He was taking every opportunity to be with her he could get. It was the least he could get after what he’d been through the past year.

As Iella held the child in her arms, she leaned back against his sturdy frame behind her. She certainly wasn’t complaining about his closeness.

She was as happy as him to have it again.

Landing on Naboo was easier than they expected. Din had booked a small cottage, away from the city center, in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for them to lay low in.

Iella was beaming as he led her inside. It was the sight of their own room, with their own full sized bed, that had her practically bouncing up and down in her shoes that made him unable to stifle his smile.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” She breathed out happily. “This is amazing. It reminds me…” She trailed off, biting her lip in hesitation.

“What?” He asked, a worried frown suddenly overtaking his features at her suddenly serious tone.

“This cottage… it reminds me of Scarif, of where we stayed on our honeymoon.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat at her words. Just days ago she had forgotten about Scarif, about where they had gotten married, and now… she had memories of things he didn’t even need to remind her of.

It was almost too much to handle.

Iella’s soft smile, one of happiness and pride for herself, for remembering, fell quickly as Din left the room suddenly. It was only when his heavy footsteps were heard just seconds later and he stormed into the room, throwing his helmet off his head, the child no longer in his arms, that she realized what he had been doing.

“If we keep putting the kid to bed at all hours, we’ll start becoming bad parents.”

“He’ll get over it.”

Iella felt a shiver race down her spine at the heated tone of his voice and the look of hunger in his eyes. He was on her a second later, taking a few long strides before he was in front of her, his hands cradling her cheeks as he kissed her deeply.

She lost all sense of the world as he kissed her hungrily and they fell onto the bed in a throw of fiery passion.

“I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here with me again.” Din babbled. He suddenly pulled away, taking in a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried hard to ground himself, to not burst into tears with the emotion that flooded him so overwhelmingly.

“I’m right here.” She whispered, her arms winding around him, holding him closely. “I’m not going anywhere, not again.”

He crashed his lips to hers before he could burst into tears. As he kissed her deeply and stripped her of her clothes, he realized he hadn’t felt so right, so at home, since he’d lost her over a year ago.

As he touched her, as he made love to her, everything suddenly seemed right in the galaxy.

Hours later, they lay curled together on the large bed, barely letting even an inch between them. They had always been a couple that relied on physical touch, but now they were barely able to let each other go now.

Her head was perched on his bare chest, her fingers tracing mindless patterns on his skin. She felt a strange puckering on his side that she wasn’t familiar with and her brows furrowed. She raised her head, looking down intently at the scar on his ribs as her fingers brushed it gently.

“This is new.”

Din looked down, following her gaze. “Oh yeah, that was a few months back. Some drunk Rodian got rowdy when I tried to handcuff him.”

“Hmm.” Was all she said.

A strange feeling overtook her at his explanation. It made her uncomfortable to know there was this entire year apart where she knew nothing about what he’d been through. They had been attached at the hip for so long, leaning on each other during jobs, being partners and best friends. It felt strange that there was now so much she didn’t know, so much she wasn’t there for.

“I’m fine. It was just a graze.” He told her, knowing from her silence where her mind had drifted to.

“That’s more than a graze, Din.”

“You know I’ve never been good with that medical shit.” He joked, making her smile and hug his side tighter.

Her eyes fell closed again as his hand moved to caress up and down the length of the back. A loud sigh left her lips as pure relaxation washed over her at his touch.

“We don’t have any food.” Iella spoke up, her sleepy voice breaking the calm silence that coated the room.

“I can go out and pick some things up.” He offered, watching with a small smile at the relaxation on her face, relaxation that he was causing her.

Suddenly, a loud whine from the other room broke them of their loving daze. Iella sat up, moving to place her clothes back on to tend to the child, causing Din to frown as the heat from her body left his.

“You want me to leave him here?”

“No, you should take him with you. Let him get some fresh air. I’m sure he’s gonna be sick of us holeing him up in here.” She answered.

“If he knew how much fun we were having holed up in here, he wouldn’t complain.” Din muttered, only slightly sarcastically.

“Don’t you dare corrupt that sweet, innocent child.” Iella warned, making him laugh.

Iella bit her lip at the sound, one she would never tire of hearing. She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off into space again, though this time her happy smile gave away what she was certainly not thinking about, unlike last time.

“What?” Din’s voice made her focus again and promptly blush when she noticed his gaze on her and that she’d been caught staring dreamily at him.

“Nothing, I just… missed you, a lot.”

Din’s face softened and butterflies erupted within every inch of his body. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, not even having words capable enough to describe to her how much he missed her, how much he loved her.

Suddenly, the door flew open and, thanks to his quick reflexes, Din practically threw himself from Iella and tossed the blanket over his head. Iella laughed loudly at the sight of the child standing in the doorway, his little hand raised, his eyes closed in concentration as he used his powers to open their door.

“Hey, buddy. What do you think you’re doing?” She stood and, as his grabby hands signalled, picked him up into her arms. “I’m sorry we’ve been ignoring you.” She told him and the way he nuzzled into the crook of her neck was enough to let her know he wasn’t mad.

“Can you hand me my helmet?” Din’s muffled voice from under the blanket called out.

Smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation, she grabbed her husband’s helmet and held it out to him. His arm shot out and grabbed it, his form finally revealing itself once his face was covered.

“He’s part of our clan. Doesn’t that technically mean he can see your face?” Iella asked him, knowing to tread lightly when it came to questions of his creed which he adhered to very strictly.

“It’s different.” Was all as he said as he stood to place the rest of his armour on.

She nodded wordlessly, knowing this wasn’t a conversation to have now.

“Now, you better be good for your daddy.” Iella spoke to the child as she rocked him in her arms. “No causing trouble and no stealing sweets. He does that, watch for those hands, he’s sneaky.” She told Din who nodded with a slight chuckle.

“Got it.”

Once he was fully armoured with his weapons strapped to him, he took the child from Iella’s arms.

“You sure you’ll be ok here by yourself?” He asked, a small, selfish part of him wishing she would cave and come with them, but he knew it was safer for her to stay here.

“I’ll be fine.” She assured him, gently brushing a knuckle over the child’s head whose eyes closed in contentment. She smiled softly and moved to caress the bottom of Din’s helmet. “You make sure you’re careful. We don’t need rebels on our ass.”

He nodded and leaned down, pressing the forehead of his helmet against hers as his hand covered hers.

“I’ll be quick.” He promised, squeezing her hand and moved towards the front door, sparing a look back at her before leaving.

Iella let out a long exhale as the door shut behind him and she was alone. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, her fingertips tapping against her skin as her eyes roamed the empty room she stood in, looking for something to occupy her time.

She sat herself on the bed, smiling softly at the fluffy pillows rested beneath her, something she considered to be one of the greatest luxuries. She grabbed a book she’d brought with her, one she’d found at the back of a shelf on the Razor Crest.

The book occupied her for a little while, allowing her just a little bit of reprieve from the real world. But it didn’t take long for her mind to begin to wander. She soon found herself rereading the same sentence over and over, the words on the page never registering.

She let the book fall from her hands and she looked around the empty room once again, her nerves beginning to rise.

The silence that greeted her made her stomach turn.

She thought some solitude would do her well, that it would calm her nerves, but it was having the opposite effect. The silence soon turned to screams that echoed in her mind.

They were her own, hers that sounded while her mind was wiped. They were others, her victims that pleaded for their lives.

They intermingled into a symphony of torture, one that threatened to break her completely.

Without much thought, she raced out of the cottage, stumbling on her feet as she moved and slammed the door closed behind her.

She took in a ragged deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed as she let the cool breeze wash over her.

Images flashed in her mind, images of bloodshed and carnage that she had caused. Placing her hands over her face, she breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down, to rid herself of the horrifying memories that plagued her. She could feel a haze coming over her, a familiar numbness taking over. A breath got choked in her throat.

That assassin was still in her, fuck, she was her.

Iella stumbled over to the hillside and sat herself down in the grass, her legs dangling over the edge and her hands taking fistfuls of the earth below her, trying her hardest to ground herself, to not let that numbness rule her.

~~~

His mind was on her as he made his way back from the market. To be away from her on a foreign planet, even for just an hour, had him on edge.

He finally had her back in his life, they had a second chance - well, a third chance he presumed - and he wasn’t going to take that for granted. He knew she needed her space, but it was killing him to think of all the horrible things that could go wrong in his absence.

Voros was dead, but the Empire was alive. They were still at risk and he wouldn’t rest until they were all dead and buried.

As he walked along the beach as he approached their little cottage on the hillside, he looked upwards, noticing her form sitting on the hill’s edge. He smiled softly at the sight of her. The way her long hair flowed in the wind was mesmerizing.

Everything about the sight of her was mesmerizing.

The child cooed at the sight of her, his face lighting up in anticipation of playing with her.

Din rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll see your favourite person soon. Don’t need to rub it in.” He mumbled playfully.

He was looking down at the child with a smirk, when his content face suddenly turned into one of fear as a loud cry of worry left him. Din’s head snapped upwards, looking for what had suddenly spooked him.

His heart dropped, a feeling of terror as heavy as lead settling in his stomach as he heard the splash of water and saw the hill’s edge suddenly void of Iella’s figure.

She had jumped into the water.

He screamed her name and sprinted as fast as he possibly could. As he made his way to the water’s edge, he hastily dropped the bag of food he was holding and snatched the satchel off his shoulder that held the child, placing it down in the sand.

“Stay there!” He yelled back to the child firmly as he raced forward into the water. He moved as quickly as the crashing waves would allow, eventually leading him to dive under the water, swimming as fast as he could to reach her.

His heart was racing, his body tense with terror that was beginning to feel all too familiar for his liking.

With a slew of curses racing through his mind as his heavy armour slowed his movements, he eventually found her, her still form floating in the clear water. His heart jumped and he wrapped his arms around her, not noticing how she suddenly began to struggle, trying to push him off her as he hauled her to the surface.

Iella sputtered, coughing and heaving for breath as she pushed herself out of the grip she hadn’t realized was her husband’s.

She turned, ready to strike, but immediately deflated when she noticed the visor staring back at her.

“Din?” She asked breathlessly, her face creasing in confusion at the sight of him and why he was pulling her out of the water like a lifeguard.

“What the fuck was that?!” He screamed, his grip on her waist tight, like he still felt he needed to keep her afloat.

“What? What the hell are you doing?”

“Me?! You jumped off the fucking cliff!”

“Din, it’s ok. It wasn’t that far. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” She argued back. There had been a time, when they were young and reckless (and a little drunk), that they’d gone cliff jumping in the middle of the night.

She didn’t think this was much different.

Din obviously didn’t agree. He didn’t even have time to be relieved by the knowledge that she’d blatantly brought up a distant memory, something that, in any other circumstance, would’ve elated him.

He could only feel the fear that was still buzzing within him at what he’d first thought. A loud, ragged gasp left his lips, one that sounded like he was struggling to breathe.

“You… you can’t just… fuck, El. You scared the shit out of me.” He spoke, his voice shaking.

Iella opened her mouth, ready to argue back, but no words came out. She realized what it looked like, what was running through Din’s mind. And the fear in his voice made guilt fester within her so deeply, it left her chest aching.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean for it to look… like that.” She explained. She reached out, winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist so there was no space left in between them. “Din, I’m so sorry.”

He held her tighter, his hands bunching the wet shirt against her back into fists, like he was trying to get even closer to her.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked. He remembered that time on Corellia when they’d jumped into the water like a couple of energetic kids. He remembered she’d been terrified to jump.

A change so simple wouldn’t have normally set him on edge, but now, after everything she’d been through, any slight deviation from the person she was all those years ago, sent terror coursing through his veins.

His time with that wiped version of her made him paranoid over every little detail now.

“I just… I needed to feel something.” Iella said softly, as if she were reluctant to divulge the crisis she endured in his absence. “When I was that person, when I was on jobs, I would just feel numb. It was like I was walking in a daze, like I was watching everything happen from behind a screen.”

Din’s breathing hitched and his hands instinctively began a soothing motion on her back when he heard the crack in her voice as her emotions began to break. He stayed quiet, allowing her as much time as she needed to get it out.

This was the most she’d spoken about her experience since he’d gotten her back and he wasn’t about to pressure her in any way.

“I started to feel that again.” She admitted, tears beginning welling in her eyes. “I jumped because I didn’t want any reminder of that… killer.” She spat the word with venom in her voice.

“You’re not that person any more. You never were, not really.”

“I don’t think my psyche really cares about technicalities.”

Din sighed at her cynical words and pulled her into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she hugged him tightly. The waves lapped at them methodically, effectively soothing both their racing hearts.

“I jumped because I needed to do something, anything, to not feel that anymore. I needed to shock my system or… I dunno, I just got desperate, I guess. It was the only thing I could think of.”

He nodded in understanding, his fear ebbing away the more he understood why she’d done what she’d done. It was finally sinking in that what she did wasn’t exactly deadly, tourists did that all the time in these waters, but because it was her and now, he couldn’t help but have thought the worst.

“Next time wait for me and I’ll be jumping right beside you.”

Iella smiled softly, her love and gratitude for him blossoming to new heights she hadn’t even realized existed.

“Deal.”

All Din could do was hold her and hope tomorrow would be better.

I hope you enjoyed some fluff before I put my OC through it again

Tags: @cosmo-bear @lavenderl3mons @starfirette @the-feckless-wonder @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @lil-baby27 @promiscuoussatan @assassinsasha23 @killtherandomness @dartheldur @remmyswritings @boomtownboy@saramelcky @frietiemeloen @thefact0rygirl @fantasyfan4ever @thirstyb-ches @lilliannaansalla @starlite41 @wantingtobekorra @moobaggg @altarsw

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian imagine

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sneezyminniejo · 3 years

Text

All in the Timing

This was requested on AO3

Felix gets injured during practice

TW injury

The members of the Mayfly dance unit were gathered in KQ Entertainment's practice room eating the ice cream Peniel ordered. They were also beginning discussions on what they wanted to do for their performance.

"I think it would be awesome if Peniel hyung is like commanding a bunch of dogs on leashes." Minho said. The others were quick to agree.

There was a whole host of conversation on the choreo, when San chimed in "What if one of us jumps off a platform and lands in another's arms." Everyone started to murmur in excitement at the thought of the stunt and immediately began planning out the details.

After some deliberation, it was decided that Felix would be the one to jump, while Wooyoung would catch him. The nine members then began discussing the logistics of the jump.

They decided that Wooyoung would be braced by four or five dancers, while Felix would get a running start before jumping into the older man's arms. It was also decided that four dancers would prop Felix up until he could practice on the actual set.

The practices at the studio had been going swimmingly. There was one moment where Wooyoung nearly dropped Felix, but no one got hurt. It just caused the duo to be more determined to practice the jump.

After another long day of practice, the five Ateez members invited the other four over to their dorm for dinner. Peniel declined, as he needed to get back to his own apartment for some rest before recording his podcast. Minho and Jeongin also declined, having already made plans with some of their friends. Minho merely told Felix to be back at the dorm by a reasonable hour and left it at that.

When the six men arrived at the Ateez dorm, they all got comfortable on the couch as they discussed what to have for dinner. Seonghwa insisted on making something and eventually got Felix to choose what. Seonghwa then moved to the kitchen to begin making dinner.

As Seonghwa was preparing dinner the other two Ateez members returned home and were equally ecstatic that Felix was joining them for dinner. “I know Minho hyung said that you should get back to your own dorm at a reasonable time, but you guys were also talking about how your first schedule is coming here for practice, so why don’t you just sleep over? It’ll save you the headache of travelling.” Jongho had said at one point. Soon after the others were humming in agreement about how it made more logical sense to just stay over.

Felix pondered for a minute. “I would need to borrow some clothes, but as long as I text Chan-hyung, I should be able to stay the night with no problems.” He quickly texted Chan and Minho just in case Chan was too absorbed in his own work and quickly got a thumbs up emoji in response from both of them.

“Hyung says I can stay the night, but I’m going to need to borrow somebody’s clothes for the night, and tomorrow.” Everyone was excited and the others were quick to figure out who’s clothes Felix could borrow and the sleeping arrangements for the night before they continued to eat their dinner.

At some point after dinner, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had decided to go to their rooms. Hongjoong to get some writing done, and Seonghwa wanted to continue reading a book he was in the middle of. That left the 99 liners and the 00 liners in the living room.

The six men were sitting in the living room chatting and the five members of Mayfly’s dance unit started to tell Jongho about the jump they had planned for their choreography.

“I almost dropped him last time Jongie. I feel like we need more practice, but we need four people to hold me up and four more to prom Felix up since we don’t have the platform yet.” Wooyoung pouted slightly as he was complaining to his dongsaeng. Jongho was listening intently to his hyung then got an idea.

“Hyungs, we have enough people to practice the jump right here.” The others stared at him a moment, then San motioned for him to continue. “ We could all hold up Wooyoungie hyung, and Felix could run off the couch.” The first person to move was Felix, who immediately jumped on the couch and started making power stances. The others moved some things out of the way then worked together to figure out how to properly brace Wooyoung.

One the 99 liners and Jongho were confident in having Wooyoung properly braced, Wooyoung gave Felix the go ahead to run off the couch and jump into his arms. Felix made sure he was on the opposite end of the couch from where he was going to jump, then he started running.

When Felix jumped off the armrest of the couch, his foot slipped, making it so he didn’t have a firm stance when he leapt into the air. Since Felix didn’t have a firm stance when he jumped, he was also unable to properly land in Wooyoung’s arms.

It almost happened in slow motion. Felix felt his ankle twinge weirdly when he jumped, and again when it accidentally hit Yunho’s side. Wooyoung is holding onto Felix’ shirt as if his life depended on it. However because Felix didn’t land properly, Wooyoung didn’t have a proper grip on the younger, practically taking off Felix’ shirt in the process.

Wooyoung quickly got out of the grasp of the others, and they all went to assess both Yunho and Felix. Yunho wasn’t very hurt. Felix hadn’t kicked very hard at all. It was more of his foot digging into his side a little as he fell than it was a kick. Felix on the other hand was sitting on the ground holding foot up to his chest.

“Felix-ah, are you hurt?” San asked, somewhat rhetorically since the younger was cradling one of his feet. Felix nodded as tears began to emerge from his eyes. “I think I twisted my ankle.” Yeosang quickly ran to the kitchen to get some ice, while San and Jongho helped Felix stand up. As soon as Felix tried to put some weight on his foot, he hissed in pain and brought his foot back into the air as he was helped to the couch. Meanwhile Wooyoung went to go get Hongjoong and Seonghwa, so they could be informed that their guest was injured.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were quick to leave their rooms to see what the damage was. Seonghwa took a look at Felix’ ankle and agreed that it was most likely sprained. Wooyoung was messaging Minho to tell him Felix was injured, while Hongjoong was doing the same thing with Chan.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung both assured Chan and Minho respectively that Felix had ice on his ankle and that they had bandages to wrap it up in later. The two Ateez members sighed as they put down their phones and went to help out.

Wooyoung went to the bathroom to get the bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water. When he returned to the living room, he handed the medicine to the younger and began propping his foot up on the throw pillows that had been thrown to the floor when they practiced their stunt.

“So all Wooyoung told us was that Felix had injured his ankle. He didn’t tell us how. Would anyone care to enlighten us?” Seonghwa asked the group, giving them a very stern look, daring them to lie to him. Felix was the one to confess. “We were practicing the stunt for our Mayfly performance. I got the timing wrong when I jumped off the couch.” Seonghwa just about face palmed upon hearing what happened. Instead he sighed exasperatedly and sat down next to the younger.

“We need to keep your foot elevated tonight, and you probably shouldn’t put any weight on it for the next few days.” Seongwha paused and gave everyone a stern look before continuing, “That means no practicing the choreo or the stunt for Felix.” The others were quick to nod their heads in understanding. Satisfied, Seonghwa turned on the tv and told the others to get ready for bed. Hongjoong had just returned from their storage closet holding a pair of crutches from the last time one of them had injured their leg.

“Here Felix, this way you can get around our dorm without having to put any weight on your foot and no one will have to carry you.” Felix thanked the older, glad that he wouldn’t have to be carried around until he got back to his own dorm. It wasn’t long after that the others returned to the living room. They watched tv for a little while before deciding that it was time for bed. The members of the dance unit were all thinking similar things, ‘dance practice will be interesting tomorrow.’

The following day Felix, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung guiltily waited for the others to arrive. Minho and Jeongin were the first to enter the room. Both members went over to Felix to see how his ankle was. “Hyung, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt as much today as it did yesterday, and I can move my ankle just fine. It primarily hurts if I try to put weight on it.” Felix demonstrated by rotating his ankle, showing zero discomfort. Minho sighed in relief, as that meant it wasn’t a severe injury.

A few minutes later, a completely oblivious Peniel entered the practice room. Peniel felt the tension as soon as he walked in. “What’s with all the tension? I could cut it with a knife.” Peniel joked before he zeroed in on Felix’ propped up ankle with a set of crutches at his side.

“What happened to Felix?” Peniel asked Minho. Minho shrugged, “Ask him, he slept over with Ateez last night and we got a message from Hongjoong and Wooyoung saying he got hurt and he probably wouldn’t be able to practice for a few days. Peniel looked at Felix, Concern etched on his face.

Felix Sheepishly looked down at his hands as he answered. “Funny you should mention practice. We decided to practice the jump last night at the dorm and my timing was a bit off. When I jumped off the couch, my foot slipped and Wooyoung wasn’t able to catch me.”

“Felix, did you learn nothing from the monkey’s who jumped on the bed?” Peniel asked. Felix chuckled a little at Peniel’s joke. “Nice one, but in my defence, I was jumping off a couch doing a stunt, not jumping on a bed with no regards to my surroundings.” Felix then high fived Peniel, glad that the older wasn’t mad at him. The others were a bit confused at what the two native English speakers were talking about, but decided not to question it in favor of practicing.

The day of the Kingdom performance, Felix’ ankle was almost completely healed. Throughout all the preparation Felix and Wooyoung decided that they were going to do the stunt, even though they hadn’t had as much practice as they would have liked. Felix had been dancing just fine throughout the entirety of the performance, but when it came time for his stunt, he had become nervous and hoped he wouldn’t re-injure his ankle.

As Felix was running across the platform, he hoped with all his might that he would get the timing correct and land safely in Wooyoung’s arms. Unknowingly to Felix, Chan had been watching worriedly in the SKZ waiting room and had actually worriedly said Felix’ name out loud in concern when it came time for the jump. To his, and everyone else’s relief, Felix landed squarely in Wooyoung’s arms. The members of the other three groups didn’t know that Felix did the stunt on an injured ankle and were even more impressed when they found out.

After Mayfly was done with all of their performances, Eunkwang bought ice cream for everyone.

#hurt/comfort #stray kids #ateez #btob #kingdom legendary war #sickfic

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defilerwyrm · 3 years

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⭐️ Bei Mir Bist Du Schön

FIC SPOILERS AHEAD!

Bei Mir Bist Du Schön on AO3

He opened his mouth to thank Essek but what came out instead was, “Deine Augen sind wunderschön.”

Essek stared at him, perfectly neutral save for the subtle rise of stark white eyebrows. “I don’t speak Zemnian,” he said, flashing his customary, placid little smile.

This is early Essek, well before c2e097, so this is a fully calculated move. That stare is him running simulations in his head, as it were, weighing his options, and he finally decides that he can learn more about Caleb if the guy thinks he doesn’t understand these little asides.

And boy did he ever just learn something juicy.

The second time, he was feeling petulant. Essek was normally a very patient and talented teacher, but there came a time when they butted heads over the best way to work a spell: Essek’s experience and Caleb’s contradicted each other, and neither was willing to admit that he was wrong because they weren’t. Caleb couldn’t have said why they were getting spirited over it. It was unlike them to lock horns this way, and the condescension chafed fiercely.

To my understanding, Wildemount never—at least post-Calamity—had a continent-spanning culture like the Roman Empire that would standardize learning across regions, and the Empire and Dynasty have utterly lacked in cultural exchange pretty much throughout their histories; so I reason that their approach to magic must be very damn different right down to the fundamentals. But, I also reason, magic is like math, in that there’s more than one way to come to a given conclusion—so the same spell cast by an Imperial mage might use different theory and somatic/verbal components with the same results.

I love fic that plays homage to cultural differences, so I figured that there must surely come a point where Caleb and Essek quibble about how to do a thing, with the crux being that they’re both right.

In a fit of pique, he muttered, “Du hast Glück, dass du abartig schön bist, denn du bist so ein Arsch.”

Essek’s head whipped up so fast that, for a moment, Caleb thought maybe he understood after all—but Essek just squinted at him without recognition and said, “I beg your pardon?”

Essek’s poker face is doing triple duty here because Caleb just said he’s hot af but also a dick, and this isn’t a sentiment Essek hasn’t heard before, but it hasn’t really gotten under his skin like it does this time.

Caleb passed a hand over his face and scratched at the beard he desperately needed to shave off. “Nothing,” he lied, “just annoyed with myself. This should be a moment of discovery, now that we know this can go either way. A door has unlocked and we’re both pulling it shut. Can we start again?”

The slip, and Essek’s reaction to it, made Caleb realize that they were both being dillweeds about the whole thing and it wasn’t going to move them forward at all.

It was—of course, of fucking course the intonation mattered. “A tonal shift,” he breathed. He took Essek by the lapels of his robe and shook him gently, and blurted out, “Ich könnte dein Gehirn küssen und dann deinen Mund.”

“What the hell is going on,” Nott squeaked at the same time as Essek chuckled almost nervously, “Caleb, I don’t—”

Hot boi damn near let the cat out of the bag right here. It’s certainly not that he specifically did not want to be smooched at all, but more that 1) Nott was RIGHT THERE so it would be mortifying, 2) he’s still very D: about physical contact and this point, and 3) he’s still very privately going “fuck fuck fuck WHY a HUMAN” about his own attraction to Caleb. There is very much a part of him that Wants That, but the rest of him is just not coping with it at all just yet.

The following morning, though, all he could think about was Dein Bett wäre besser and Essek’s careful fingers touching his face.

Both of them are fully mortified with themselves. They’re ridiculous. I see Caleb heading back to the Xhorhaus with shoulders bunched up, brow furrowed, and wide eyes glued to his own feet as his brain screams “DEIN BETT WÄRE BESSER” at him, mockingly, over and over. Slipping up and confessing your attraction to your crush is relatably horrifying (gods, I’ve been there, it’s awful) and Caleb is predisposed to beat himself up to begin with. Add in the rest of the party making a big deal over the fact that he spent the night over at Essek’s towers and you’ve got an abject storm in that little ginger head of his.

It did not help matters that no matter how much he insisted that nothing happened, the Mighty Nein were dead set on believing that he’d slept with his mentor, and they spent the next three days teasing him about it, none of them aware that he was simultaneously tormenting himself.

Okay so I try to be good and not talk shit about my own work these days, but that sentence just landed in a belly flop for me. I’m not sure it actually gets across what I’d meant, which was that Caleb was beating himself up for a different reason than what they all thought.

In the midst of a messy ambush by three of the wolf-cat eye-beasts, one of them managed to get the drop on Caleb, and it pinned him, screaming, to the ground. Its claws dug fiery punctures into either side of his chest. He thrashed, trying to get both hands up to cast, but it would be too late—his reflexes weren’t good enough. His body had never been nearly as sharp as his mind, and he was about to pay the price in the form of massive, dagger-like fangs lunging towards his throat. He screamed again, chest nearly frozen with fear, when—

Adventurers are generally made of tough stock, but I really wanted to dig into the POV of someone who’s being attacked by a terrifying cerature intent on ripping them apart. “You take 12 piercing damage and are knocked prone” is mechanical and dry; I wanted to show the full in-character implications of those mechanics.

Another fic that represents game mechanics narratively to absolutely stunning affect is Hard Mouth by road_rhythm, which I cannot recommend highly enough. I wrote Bei Mir before Hard Mouth started posting but had it been the other way around, it 100% would have been an inspiration in that regard.

He could not help but murmur, “Götter, ich bins so verschossen in dich.”

Fun fact: I got myself the book Talking Dirty German specifically for writing Caleb dialogue, and it really came in handy here. This idiom is from that book, as did abartig schön. The literal translation is “Gods, I am so shot into you,” which coming to think of it sounds a wee bit dirty but is figuratively very sappy.

Speaking of sappy….

“Das Gefühl ist Gegenseitig,” came the warm and sleepy reply.

Part of this is Essek being barely-conscious, but the bulk of it is this—and this is basically giving away the whole way the fic progresses: pretending not to know Zemnian began as a manipulation tactic to get intel, then became a game of “Let’s see how long it takes you to figure this out, smart boy” as their bond grew and Essek stopped deliberately trying to throw Caleb off, and finally when they were a couple he figured it would be cruel and pointless to keep up the ruse, especially since he’d been growing to appreciate pet names in their mother tongues.

Caleb took a deep breath, set his tea aside, and launched himself at Essek, who yelped, laughing, and danced out of his grasp. Essek led him on a merry chase around the kitchen and held out as long as he could before crying mercy at Caleb’s vicious tickling.

You know, I probably shouldn’t point this out in case my readers hadn’t cottoned onto it yet either, but it wasn’t until like a week after publishing this that I stopped and thought, “WTF happened to Essek’s teacup? Did he take the time to set it down? Did it get dropped and shatter? Did he show off and levitate it?? Did he bring it with him and get tea all over the place and himself?!” Smh…. Choose your own explanation, I guess, lmao.

The rolls were a little burnt that morning, but Caleb had no regrets.

Part of me feels like this is kind of a weak ending, but I justify it to myself by remembering how hard Caleb regretted his slip-ups over the course of the fic. He spends a good bit of copy beating himself up over them, so ultimately I think it fits, even if it kinda lacks punch.

#ask box games #shadowgast #before long my song is dying #critical role #plz how do i fandom

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