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maskedmando · 2 years

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I Need You Here

Part 1

Paring: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's a normal day on the Razor Crest when you get shot in the stomach by the bounty that Din is out looking for. The reality of it all changes everything.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: heavy angst, blood, injury, detailed description of wound, getting shot, talk of dying (no death), general fear of dying, smut in next part, this work is 18+ minors do not interact

a/n: pls take warnings seriously. this is my first time posting a fic to tumblr in a long time, so please let me know the general vibes. will include a part 2 later! (this is cross posted to my ao3 account as well)

Looking back, out of all of the many days that you have spent parading targets on your back with Din Djarin, it had felt like the least likely one for you to die. But you suppose that, in reality, that’s more often when these things happen. On days they’re not supposed to.

You’ve been hit by blaster shots before. They’ve grazed arms and legs, singed hair, nothing serious. You’ve chuckled at the way that Din tenses while cleaning flesh wounds that you can’t reach.

You knew this one was different about 8 seconds after the bounty on the other end of the blaster fell in a heap at the bottom of the open ramp of the Razor Crest. He had only made it about 4 steps in before you realized it was either him or you making it out of this.

As those seconds ticked by, you were hit with a third option that you hadn’t initially considered. This outcome being that you might just die right here on a planet that you weren’t supposed to be on for more than a day, the child still locked in the bunk where you left him after being alerted to someone that was definitely not Din approaching the Crest, next to a bounty that you and Din had jokingly placed bets just this morning on how quickly he would have him frozen in carbonite.

The bounty had fired at the same time as you and hit you just left of your belly button. You knew it was different the moment you were sure that the bounty was dead and your 8 seconds were up.

Your vision narrowed rapidly as your hands flew to the fire that was starting in your midsection. For a moment, you genuinely thought that you were holding your organs in your hands, but you physically shook the image out of your head as you realized that your hands were simply slippery with an alarming amount of blood.

The bounty must have had some sort of attachment to his blaster, because the hole in your stomach was not the size of a typical blaster wound. It was bad. This was bad.

Your next choices felt like a blur. You needed to com Din. You needed a med kit. You did not know if you had time for both of those things. You stood frozen while those two options took precious moments away from you.

The child wailed from the bunk.

The noise sent your body into some sort of uncontrollable mission. You could grab the med kit and take it with you into the cockpit while you commed Din to let him know that he needed to come back immediately. A small part of your brain wondered exactly what you thought Din would be able to do for you, but the larger part knew that it wasn’t about anything that he would be able to do. It was simply about the fact that you needed him here right now.

You remember the feeling of your hand wrapping around the handle of what you truly hoped to be one of the spare med kits as you did everything in your power just to get yourself to the ladder of the cockpit. You have no recollection of how you got yourself up, all you know is that you weren’t able to stand back up after that point. You crawled the rest of the way to the controls, leaving a trail of blood that would haunt Din even after washing it all away for months.

Of course, the only way to get a hold of Din was through the communication device that he carried with him that could radio back and forth with the control panel of the ship. You reached up and fumbled around until you got a hold of the radio piece and pulled the cord just far enough for you to half-sit half-lay on the ground beneath the blinking lights of the controls above you.

You breathe in deeply and hit the button that allows Din to hear you. “Mando.” You spoke it eerily calmly considering that, to your own ears, your voice sounded miles away. You’re sure you might actually be holding your organs at this point.

Letting go of the button, you hear Din quickly respond. It’s not often that you com each other while he’s out hunting. The sound of his voice comes from the speaker on the panel above you. You close your eyes as you listen. “I know, I know. I had him in my sights about 30 minutes ago, but I lost him. Looks like I owe you 10 credits. No need to rub it in.”

He sounded so lighthearted. He was always so serious, but he was in such a good mood today. You noticed it this morning. Your eyes welled as you brought the radio back up to speak. You were about to ruin his life. “Din.” This time your tone was much shakier.

There was a pause before a much more serious sounding Din responded, “Y/N?”

You let out a sob, hearing him say your name. You register in that moment just how scared you are. You can’t die without him there. He’s going to get back to the Crest and find your dead body in his cockpit and your blood all over the place and the child locked in what is basically a closet and he’s never going to be the same. While you’ve never spoken about what you are to each other, you know that Din Djarin loves you and that you love him just as fiercely. You’ve left it unspoken to protect yourselves from this moment right here. But now that this is happening, really happening, you're not sure if leaving things unspoken will make all of this easier or harder for him in the long run. You force yourself to focus on how the tears feel running down your face.

“Y/N!” His voice snaps you out of it.

You take yet another deep breath and steady your voice. Your other hand is still holding your lower half together. “Din, I’m sorry. You have to come back to the ship. The bounty found the ship.”

“What do you mean?”

“The bounty came to the ship. I shot him, but-” you let go of the button quickly as you let out a genuine scream of pain. You don’t know if you can get your breath back.

“But what?” This time it sounds like Din is moving quickly, but you still can’t get enough air to respond to him. “Y/N, respond!”

You cry openly this time as you respond to him, knowing that the pain isn’t going to go away and there’s no point in hiding the damage that’s already been done. “I got- I got shot. I’m sorry. The kid’s okay; I h-hid him. But I got shot. T-There’s too much blood, I don’t know what- what to do. I need you to come back. P-Please.”

He responds the moment you let go of the button. This time it’s clear through the radio that he’s in the air. “Where?”

“I’m in the cockpit.”

“No, mesh’la,” he corrects gently, “Where did you get shot?”

You're sweating profusely at this point. “My s-stomach. It wasn’t a normal blaster, Din.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you're also starting to notice that you may not be fully aware of your surroundings at this point. It’s entirely possible that he’s talking and you're just not aware of it until you start to pick up on his voice again.

You’re now fully laying down on your back, looking at the control panel above you. When you hear him again, it’s almost like he’s standing right above you. “You need to keep pressure on it, cyar’ika. I know you can do that for me. I promise I’m not far away.”

Your hand pushes harder into your stomach, and black spots burst into your vision. In the sheer amount of shock from the pain, you actually let out an involuntary combination of a laugh and a sob, your body having no idea what to do with what it was going through.

You never knew how much you didn’t want to die alone until right now.

“I-I really want- I’m sorry- I really want you to be here, Din.” You let go of the radio and let it dangle above you as you move to use both hands to put pressure on the wound.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’re not dying until Din gets here.

“I’m almost there, y/n. I promise, everything is going to be fine. I’m not going to let anything happen to you-” you know Din keeps talking, but this is truly where you start to lose touch with reality.

In pushing on your wound, you black out for an unknown amount of time. When you start to wake up, it’s because you hear someone moving around wildly below. Din basically flung his body up the ladder, and you heard him stop when he reached the top.

It’s the only time he hesitates, and it’s an image he will never forget. And there is only one thought going through his head as he has followed a clear path of your blood straight to the sight of you laying motionless on the floor of his cockpit. It’s a miracle he didn’t throw up right then instead of later that night.

This is your fault.

The thought repeats even as he bursts back into action, ripping his gloves off and kneeling at your side at a speed that makes you dizzy just lying there.

You’re confused as you see how badly his hands are shaking and he tears through the med kit you brought up with you. You watch him, almost calmly, as he spews out apology after apology. You don’t even grasp that he’s working on your wound until your brain finally catches up with what’s happening.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to panic, you couldn’t even feel it anymore.

Instead, you looked up at his helmet as it remained hyper focused on a wound much worse than his mind ever would have allowed him to imagine you having. He was polished and shiny as usual, which felt oddly comforting to you at that moment.

When you first met Din, you remember how uncomfortable you felt looking at him. Not because you were intimidated or scared, though, you might have occasionally been at the time, but because you were forced to look at your own reflection much more often than you had ever been used to. The hut you lived in prior to traveling with Din didn’t have any mirrors or overly reflective surfaces, and you only ever really saw yourself when you glimpsed your reflection on the surface of the well that everyone got their drinking water from. Your reflection in Din’s armor is much sharper, much more unforgiving. It had been alarming to you for longer than you would have expected after first meeting him.

Now though, as the edges of your vision blurred, you realized something that made your body feel warm. At least, you assume that’s why you were feeling warm. You didn’t care to think about what was happening to your body anymore as you were too focused on gingerly reaching up to grip Din’s elbow. He was moving so quickly, if he would just slow down you could enjoy the fact that you barely see your reflection anymore when you look at him. You only see him now. This fully fleshed out man before you that has shown you more of the galaxy than anyone before would have even bothered. You know him. You can die knowing that you got to see Din Djarin. It feels wonderful. You want him to know how wonderful it feels.

“I can see you,” your ears registered the nearly incoherent mumbling sound of your voice. Although, you’ve reached a point where your brain seems pretty sure you’re actually just having a dream. In fact, when you wake up later, you will never remember any of this. You continue to ramble, “It’s just you. I-I’m so glad it’s you.”

He began to shush you purely on instinct, “You’re fine. I’m going to take care of this.” His words seemed instinctual as well. His tone was what gave him away. You could write a book about the sound of his voice and what it all means. How it can help you see him.

Din Djarin was utterly terrified. His tone burrowed into your stomach and caused the warm feeling to bubble and turn sour. His tone did that, not the blaster wound. You’ve never felt more compelled to comfort him. How could anything be wrong when he was right there and you didn’t even feel the pain anymore?

“Din, it’s okay,” you squeeze his elbow to get his attention, but you’re unsure if you’re even strong enough at this point for him to feel it, “I feel safe. I just see you.”

“Mesh’la, please,” you don’t know what he was begging for. “I have to fix this. We’re leaving soon I promise. We shouldn’t have even come. I’m sorry. I don’t know- I- I’m going to fix this.”

The frenzy of his hands pulled at your attention. Looking down, you thought for a moment that Din had put his gloves back on, but soon realized that his hands were coated in a layer of your blood. You were becoming more aware of the fact that you couldn’t seem to blink away the blur in your vision anymore.

You needed him to slow down.

“I can’t!” Din was close enough that you could hear the panic coming from under his helmet. You hadn’t noticed that you had said that aloud and that both of your hands were grabbing at his while he tried to apply a bacta patch. Your wound was still bleeding too much, making it so that the patch wasn’t sticking correctly.

You and Din both knew that you had used the last of the bacta shots for a leg wound that he had gotten two weeks ago. He was supposed to pick up more shots on the last planet you were on, but the vendor was charging an abnormally large amount causing Din to decide that it would be better to wait and work through the easier bounties before finding a cheaper salesman.

Now this patch was the only form of bacta on the ship and, no matter how Din tried, it wouldn’t stick.

As you gently gripped his blood soaked hands, he let out a sob.

You began to shush him purely on instinct.

The child wailed from the bunk.

Din’s head shot up immediately. “He can help you,” you thought you heard him say. You were too happy about the fact that his hands had stopped moving and that you didn’t register his movement until both of those hands had moved to either side of your face, cradling you in a way that was gentle yet utterly desperate. His helmet was almost fully pressed to your forehead. He had never been this close to you. Right then, you think you were okay with dying.

“He’s going to help you,” This time as he said it, his hands forced themselves to slip away and his forehead to push away from yours as he stood and disappeared down the ladder.

Out of everything that happened, this was the most painful. While you don’t remember, Din will never forget the sound that tore from you as he disappeared from your side. Given the state you were in, your very fuzzy and disoriented mind jumped to the conclusion that he wasn’t coming back and you were about to die right there, alone. It was entirely nonsensical, but your whole body was shaking from the way you were sobbing by the time Din was back by your side with the child no more than 15 seconds later.

The child did not hesitate to close his eyes and reach out for your stomach as Din turned to focus on calming you down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, mesh’la. He can fix this. Everything is going to be okay. I’m sorry.” His hand, still covered in blood, soothed your hair off of your clammy forehead. He positioned himself so that your head was resting in his lap. The movement allowed you to notice the child.

You smiled softly at him and reached to rub one of his ears. Din gently stopped you and you let out a soft confused whine from the back of your throat. “Let him work, mesh’la. He’s going to save you.”

You were only partially able to take in Din’s words at this point. You choked out, “He’s safe.”

“You kept him safe. You always keep him safe. You did such a good job, sweet girl.” If you weren’t dying and your blood wasn’t rushing through your ears as if you were drowning in an ocean, you might actually think Din was crying. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to keep you safe now. You’re going to stay with us and we’re going to leave this planet soon and you’re going to be fine.”

That tired smile spread on your face again as you tried to focus on the only two things that have ever truly mattered to you. “My boys.”

You were so happy you were with your boys.

The soft smile stayed on your face as you closed your eyes and, finally, went to sleep.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal #angst

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breaniebree · 8 months

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Hi.

I am so fucking sorry if this is weird.

But I stumbled across ASC in one of my old SD cards and couldn’t resist seeing if you’d actually managed to finish that giant story - and apparently you did. Kudos to you.

When I first read ASC I was in a seriously (Siriusly, because that joke is obligatory at this point) bad place. COVID was still in its early stages, I was newly thirteen and had no idea who I was, my anxiety had reached a new high and my OCD ruled my life. I was literally scared to get out of bed and half the time I wouldn’t. I sanitized everything on sight and then some, and it still wasn’t enough to get rid of the crawling feeling inside me. I can now admit that I was depressed. And on top of that I was going through an identity/gender crisis and questioning my sexuality for the first time in my life, hating myself while at it - being an ally is one thing, but being an actual member of the LGBTQ+ community is quite another, especially when you live in an country where being gay isn’t even an option and your mother is homophobic af. Basically I was majorly fucked up.

ASC wasn’t some huge life-changing thing. It was just a random fanfic I found while scrolling through HP tags. I was intrigued, mostly, at this monster of a fic that was over two hundred chapters long, and since I was looking for free books at the time, I gave it a try. Finished the first thirty or so chapters in one sitting. And, once I got over my shock at the sex scenes (I’d never even been on a date and honestly my sexual awakening was partially triggered by this - I was like, ‘If the fact that these people shagged for hours straight, and my only concern is how possible it is to manage that position for any length of time, then I’m probably going to have to sit myself down for a soul-search’) and violent scenes (your mind is a terrifying place and I am sincerely thankful you aren’t planning world domination just yet) I was hooked.

I did comment every now and then, under varying pseudonyms - SavvySpirit was one, obviously. WarrioroftheWolves was another (thirteen-year-old me was obsessed with large predators, mainly since they were everything I wasn’t) and Raindrops & Flowers is quite possibly my least original name ever. There were a few other one-time names I can’t recall. But it was a brief respite in the craziness of ’20 and most of all it was something that was mine - to hold close to my heart, to hate when plot lines threw me for a loop, to cry over and giggle over and laugh over. I printed out the entire thing using my pocket money, in minuscule script and fitting eight pages per sheet, both sides. I think I reread that story at least twice a month - entire thing, back to back as I waited for the next time my parents would let me use the computer for longer than three minutes. I got attached to characters I barely gave second glances to. Viktor. Pansy. Dean. Padma. Mandy. Theo. Him especially, since I relate so much to him it almost hurts to see him hurt.

I stuck with ASC until around the time when Finn died and Ginny was put under bloodlust. I don’t remember exactly why I stopped checking for updates - maybe it was just a lack of time, maybe it was my refilling schedule coupled with my fear of humans. Maybe it was something deeper, who knows. But I stopped at one point and just reread (imo) the best bits every now and then.

I guess, story-wise, things got a little too real too fast for me. I’d known Cedric and Sirius was going to die, and Viktor’s death wasn’t as much of a shock as Finn’s was - because it was so unexpected and so out of the blue (I cried and screamed and cursed your name for thirty minutes straight after that last mo grá. Seriously, Breanie? You just had to go and ruin things just when they were getting good? I was looking forward to seeing Finn’s POV, and seeing them mature and fight over everything from Finn’s overprotectiveness coupled with Theo’s independence to shopping problems and flavours of ice cream, to see them go through troubles and overcome them both individually and as a couple. I was so freaking excited to see more of Tara and your take on a fairy realm, to see how Finn’s pseudo-immortality and Theo’s past demons would come into play. I wanted so much more development on Finn’s character, his flaws and quirks, his skeletons in the closet since we’d never really had his POV. I even had hopes of a storyline where Voldemort tries to get into Tara(because of the so-called immortality, duh) and gets horribly burned in the process. I wanted a Feo love child, dammit(Ciara would be such a cool aunt! And with the Weasleys and Blaise/Draco on one side of the family and Tiernan and the royal court on the other than kid would be the best protected, most spoilt kid in existence). I had hopes, Breanie. Dreams. And you destroyed them all with that single scene.) and so. Fucking. Tragic. And like ten chapters later you put Ginny under bloodlust where she hates Harry and wants to kill him (this was a seriously fucked up idea and I applaud your imagination. And sincerely hope you never become a investigator, because that would be scary.) and I read this bit with my heart in my throat because even if I don’t really like book or movie Hinny(Ginny seems too much of a side character and has so little personality, as I’m sure you know) but I adore fandom Hinny and YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN YET ANOTHER OF MY FAVOURITE SHIPS IN THIS FIC DAMMIT but I chickened out and never read past that to see if she got cured. She did, right? She’s not dying slowly from poison in her bloodstream or anything? Right? Don’t correct me if I’m wrong though, I prefer to remain oblivious and happy in a world where nobody dies and everybody gets therapy.

But anyway, the point of me spilling my life story to you here was to thank you. You may not have intentionally made this fic for me, but it was a lot more effective than most of my therapy sessions since I could get my thoughts and feelings out in a roundabout way. ASC may not be a major part of my life currently, but it’s still a large part of who I am, and I am indebted to you for making this safe space. I turned fifteen and came out as panromantic/asexual. I turned sixteen and came out as a demigirl. I have career aspirations and I’m actually working on them. I’m working on long-term plans, which I never could’ve imagined having three years ago. And though I lost hearing in one ear last month, I didn’t consider ending things, not even once. Still haven’t. I have midterms but I’m not stressing myself to the max over them, and I actually have a social life now. And it’s not all completely thanks to you, but there is still a large part of my sanity that owes itself entirely to the fanfiction writers of 2020. And a slice of that pie is yours. So - thank you. For everything. You’re a truly gifted writer.

And before I forget - does Theo like, ever get closure? Hypothetically the fae have realm glasses. Which might come into use. Can fae get reborn? Just asking.

And does Zee ever date again? Like - I know Sirius was her person, but when the kids get older and she grows older…

One more question: how does someone like Delta turn out to be evil?! She was so freaking supportive when Hermione was researching human rights. Another question: Blaise survives, right? Because that guy is a riot. And another: I reread chapters 200-272 for this and realized that Finn just randomly carries around a pair of golden handcuffs? Like what was the story behind that. Did he get cornered one day and decide that ‘henceforth, I shall carry handcuffs’? And Crouch’s ‘wives’…do Millie and Hestia ever escape? My last random question: whatever happened to Arnold the Pygmy Puff?

Also is there any way I can send you a virtual fruit basket?

Hi, @savvyspirit

Wow! Thank you very much for sharing so much for me. I'm honoured my story had such a profound impact on you personally. Good for you for being honest and open with yourself about who you are. Nothing is more important. Thank you so much for sharing that my story helped you in a roundabout way. That's very cool to hear.

I understand that the story took a darker turn and did get too real too fast, but I do hope you go back to it now that it's complete and now that I'm finishing up the trilogy. Harry and Ginny are definitely getting their happy ending, that I can promise.

Finn was an important part of Theo's life and an important part of the story, but unfortunately he wasn't who Theo was meant to spend his life with. That's someone else and if you keep reading, I promise you'll see him much happier than he ever was with Finn. Yes, he does get closure. As to Zee, well... yes, she does find love (you have to keep reading to find out). Delta aka Belladonna was a lot of fun to have be evil the whole time and you learn more about her how and why as the story goes on. Blaise does survive and we get to know more about him too. Finn carried around handcuffs because he was part of the Royal Guard of Tara. Millie and Hestia do survive. Arnold is still around, promise.

Ha, as to a virtual fruit basket -- I'll take those in story reviews on Ao3 or ff.net please and thanks.

Thank you very much for sharing this with me and I sincerely hope you delve back into the world of ASC because I really do think it's worth it. Thank you!

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everafterfics · 2 years

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Unsaid Emily [Viktor x Reader]

I’ve been sitting on this one for a little bit now. It is inspired by the song Unsaid Emily from Julie and the Phantoms. I wanted to try something a bit different and write something thats got a bit of angst to it. The entire fic is written from Viktors point of view. It is a female reader, but there is no use of Y/N

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Summary: Viktor reflects on his departure from Piltover after he transforms himself using the Hexcore

Warnings: a little bit angsty, not an overly happy ending, but its not an angsty ending

First things first

We start the scene in reverse

She was the light of my life. The shining sun that brightened my darkest days. And she was the only thing on my mind as the council room ignited. I had felt pain before, but it was nothing compared to that day. The searing flames that enveloped me left me wishing for death, but I had spent so long fighting my own demise that I couldn’t let it end like this. Not for myself, and certainly not for her.

I was rushed to the hospital along with the other members of the council. Somehow Jayce and councilor Medarda made it out unscathed, if only I was as lucky. I could hear voices, of Jayce and the doctors, and hers most of all. She pleaded for the doctors to help me, but I heard them doubt that I was even worth it. My body was already dying of disease. Those burns and broken bones only helped to speed up the process. They were unsure if I would even survive.

That was not the first time I had heard doctors predict my end. The hardest part perhaps was hearing her reaction to the news. Wailing sobs that echoed through my heart. Unfortunately I could do nothing. My mind swung between sleeping and waking but my body refused to move nonetheless.

She spent countless nights at my bedside after that. Her soft hands grasped my own scarred ones, never letting go. I could hear her crying for hours. The final catalyst to will my body to finally wake was hearing her words, desperate and sorrowful.

“Please Viktor. You have to wake up. I’m not sure my heart could survive if you die. You were so close to curing yourself, it just isn’t fair!”

My eyes had finally opened to see her. I caressed her cheek with my hand, cold and metal from the Hexcore, but unscathed from the explosion. A thought passed through my head at that moment. She couldn’t bare to see me die, but I couldn’t bare to see her suffer at my tragedy. There was a solution, but one that would drastically change me forever…

No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken

After weeks of me being in the hospital she finally left my side to sleep in her own bed, content that I was on a path to healing. This was a lie, I could feel my body getting weaker.

That night without her was dark and quiet. Somehow I was able to bring myself to my feet. My body could move just enough to walk, ehh limp, back to the lab. I had made a decision, a selfish one, but it was my only option.

I practically collapsed when I entered through the doors, but relief had struck me to see that Jayce had yet to destroy the Hexcore. I crawled my way towards it. Once I had reached the desk I weakly extended my hand to the Hexcore. Either it would heal or destroy me, but a deadman has nothing to lose. The Hexcore whirred to life with my touch, the scarred runes etched into my skin glowed, and I could feel it changing me. Magic coursed through my veins allowing me to stand. Strength returned to my whole being. I took the Hexcore in both hands, invigorated by my newfound health. It was working! Until it began to happen…

My muscles changed, encouraging my skin to as well, to become metal. The more I tried the harder it became to remove my hands from that cursed invention! The more the changes progressed the more my body was wracked with pain.

Was it luck? Or perhaps it was misfortune that there was nobody near the lab to hear my cries? Nobody to help tear me away from the Hexcore. Yes, it must have been luck. For anybody that tried would have ended up like Sky. With a final flash of light I found myself on the floor.

As I came to I noticed just how much I had changed. Like my leg and altered hand from my first uses of the Hexcore, it was as though my muscular structure and skin had merged. My body had become a sort of living metal, some sort of cyborg abomination. I quickly made my way to a mirror in the lab to see what changes had become of my face. Most of it seemed unchanged, aside from my sclera becoming black, my golden eyes now glowed in the dark room, and up to my cheeks retained the same purple metal as the remainder of my body.

It was an interesting development. And while I had felt stronger than I ever had in my entire life, I knew that here in Piltover I’d be seen as some sort of monster. And I feared that she might see me the same. So I took to Hexcore and ran.

I ran from Piltover to somewhere I presumed I would be alone, my old childhood home on Emberflit Alley… in Zaun. I was honestly surprised to see it still empty after all of these years. The structure was not the most sound, and cobwebs filled every nook and cranny. But I thought I could stay for some time. Until I decided if I wanted her to see me as I am now. Just some time…

If I could take us back, if I could just do that

And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace

Then maybe time would not erase me

How long had it been? A month, maybe two? Perhaps longer? Time was irrelevant when all that matters was progress. And I had made much progress since returning to Zaun. I adapted to my new metal body, creating augmentations to myself to improve my body and my mind. I augmented others as well, when they desired. Although only the truly desperate ever sought me out. Unfortunately my new position in Zaun earned me a strange nickname amongst the people, the Machine Herald. I didn’t mind the name so much as I thought it unnecessary to use such a thing. Not matter, all of this was simply a distraction.

While my goals to help the people of the Undercity had never changed, my reasoning had become warped. I simply longed for a way to distract myself from the thought of her. From my guilt of leaving.

I have hated myself for not leaving a note, for not telling her what happened. For not even going back to let her know I’m alive. I cant bear to think about the grief she must have suffered on my behalf. Perhaps she worried herself sick looking for me before Jayce finally convinced her to let me go. A part of me selfishly hopes that she still believes I’m alive.

As I tinker with a new project at my desk those thoughts echo in the back of my mind. How come the past never ceases to haunt me?

A light knocking echos through my small house. I stop my work and listen. Usually the knocking continues if someone truly wants my help. Instead I hear a voice that makes my blood run cold.

“Hello?”

For a moment I remain at my lab desk. The voice that resonated from the other side of my door leaves me paralyzed. Then it comes again. The wrapping of knuckles lightly on the front door followed by the familiar cadence that has plagued my mind since leaving Piltover.

“Hello? Is this where I can find the Machine Herald?”

I place my mask over my face and rise to my feet. My hands remain planted firmly on the desk, unsure if I can answer the door. How can I face you like this? As a man changed beyond recognition. As a man that was supposed to be dead. Surely if you find out who I am you will be furious. Perhaps it would be better to just ignore you. Again those knuckles found themselves knocking my the door, drawing me from my thoughts.

“Hello? Is anybody-“

I whip the door open a lot harder than I mean to. Immediately, I regret my decision to face you. You were like a small rabbit cornered by a wolf. I had forgotten that my augmentations came with an enhancement to my height. My looming figure must have caught you off guard. I try to soften my stance, but it is rather difficult to soften a figure made of steel.

“Are you the Machine Herald?” Your voice squeaks with terror the likes of which I have never heard from you before.

I have to take a moment to compose myself before I answer. “Yes.”

You hold yourself steady but there is no denying the trembling of your legs. How my heart aches to know that I frighten you so.

“Please… I need your help.” You sound so desperate. It takes everything in my power to not show how worried I am for you. Perhaps I should let you know who I really am? But would that help? Or perhaps make whatever you are coming to the Machine Herald for worse? I gesture for you to come inside. You spared a small glance as you pass into my home, one of fear and distrust.

I lead you into my lab, keeping a careful distance from you. I pull up a chair for you and take a seat myself beside my desk. “Please, what’s wrong? Why have you come here?” I ask, perhaps with more concern in my voice then I meant to add. And for a moment I see something in your eyes. A glimmer of recognition behind them. Perhaps my voice, though modulated by my mask, was enough to tip you off to my identity. But as quickly as I saw it, it faded into a look of hopelessness.

You open and close your mouth, take a deep breath, and answer. “I’ve heard that you can remove a persons emotions. I’ve been plagued by mine for too many months now. I can’t bear it anymore. Please mister Machine Herald, can you take them from me?!”

If you could only know I'd never let you go

And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave

Unsaid Emily

I have to grasp my desk to stop myself from jumping to my feet and consoling you. “No. I can’t do that.” I can hear my voice waver, much to my own dismay.

“But I-“

“What you heard was merely a rumor. Nasty things… rumors” I avert my eyes so that I don’t see the disappointment that I’ve caused, though I can hear you start to sob.

“What can I do? I can’t live without him! I tried, truly I did. But I just can’t!”

My heart can’t bear to hear you sobbing, especially knowing that I am the cause of such heartache. Damn the consequences! Even if you hate me for what I’ve done, that hate would be better than seeing you in such despair.

“I did try to get rid of them.” At the sound of my voice you look up. “Not too long ago I decided to do something that I’m not proud of. Using a dangerous invention of mine I was able to save my own life from fatal injuries and disease. I didn’t intend to leave my home, but looking upon my changed form I knew that I no longer had a place in Piltover.” I stop to breathe out a sigh at the memory. “Unfortunately, in the process of saving myself, I lost the woman I love. How could I have left her behind?” I spared a glance towards you. The wheels in your head were clearly turning. I continued on, pain evident in my voice. “What I’d done caused me so much guilt that I wanted to get rid of my emotions. I had begun research on how I might achieve that, but in the end it was my emotions that convinced me to stop. I’d already hurt you so much, it is only right that I live with my guilt. It is what I deserve.” Your eyes widen and a stuttered gasp leaves your lips.

“Viktor…” you whisper, the recognition settling in your sad eyes.

I remove my mask and set it to the side. “Yes, my love.” I say as I look at you through my own teary eyes.

“How?” I expected anger from you, but instead it was like I had broken your heart all over again. Your words came out in sobs. “How could you leave me behind? Why did you let me think you were dead? Why did you hide who you were when I came here?”

I reach a hand out to you but rescind it. I don’t have the right to touch you after what I’ve done. “I’m sorry. I was afraid and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” You say with surprise. But now comes the fury I’d expected from you before. “Look at me and tell me that what you did didn’t hurt me! You left me alone! You didn’t say where you went! You just disappeared from the hospital! Ive cried over you every night since you disappeared! Jayce and I assumed the worst. We looked for you for over a month.” It doesn’t seem like you can keep your rage flowing. The melancholy starts to seep into your voice. “I held out hope for so long that we’d find you alive. I think Jayce was at least hoping to find your body so we could put you to rest. To actually grieve you.” You stop and there is a deafening silence that I’m not sure I want to break. Finally you speak again, voice hoarse from shouting. “Why didn’t you come back for me? I would have left Piltover to be with you Viktor. You knew that I would’ve gone to the ends of the world for you.”

I let out a deep sigh. “I was ashamed of my new body. I feared that you might have seen me as a monster had I returned to your side.”

“I would never have-“

“I know. But it took me too long to realize that. I suppose I was projecting the feelings i had of myself onto you. It was my own way of punishing myself.” I looked to see some sort of reaction from you, but for the first time since entering my home I couldn’t tell what you were feeling. “As the days past I knew I should’ve gone back to you. But I also realized that if I did go back, you’d hate me as you do now. And as selfish as it was, I didn’t think I could bear you hating me”

“I don’t hate you, Viktor.” You look at me now with softer eyes. “I am upset, but I have every right to be. And you’re right. It was a selfish thought.”

“If I could go back and change the past I would never have left you.” I let a single tear roll from my eye.

“And I truly believe that Viktor.” You give me a quick smile before sighing. “But we can’t change the past.”

There is a moment of silence between us before I speak up once more. “What can we do? How can we fix us?”

“We could start over I suppose.” You shrug. Then you look at me with those doe eyes of yours, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Although, I never stopped loving you.”

With those words I felt a warmth in my heart that I haven’t felt since I left Piltover. I smiled at you, “And I never stopped loving you.”

You scoot a bit closer to me and place a hand over my own. I look down at you, again you’re on the verge of tears. “I missed you so much Viktor. I need some time to process all of this, but I want us to get back to where we were”

Placing my free hand onto your cheek I wipe away your fallen tears. “I want that too. Please take all the time you need.”

You smile at me before standing. “Id like you to visit me topside. Maybe dinner tomorrow? We can work on us.”

#arcane viktor #viktor x reader #reader insert #arcane reader insert #song fic #machine herald x reader #machine herald viktor #arcane machine herald #viktor x you #machine herald x you

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allwaysxtired · 9 months

Text

Midnight Thoughts

Summary: Steven has a lot of regrets in his life, but the biggest one was definitely not being there for his sister.

Character(s): Steven Universe, Nora Universe

Steven Universe has a lot of regrets in his life.

Yes, he was just a teenager, but he definitely wasn't like the others. Being half human and half alien sure reminded him.

But one of his biggest regrets was definitely not being the brother he should've been to his little sister, Nora Universe.

He was such an oblivious kid. It took him a while to develop any kind of maturity or sense of danger, but who could blame him? He was a child after all.

Although, it didn't stop Nora from reaching this maturity way before him, making her worried sick whenever both of them were allowed to go on mission with the gems.

It also didn't stop her from any injuries Steven didn't suffer, like getting a rock flying into her head when Sugilite destroyed the communication hub; Or when she got Jasper's attention, making the gem knock her out unconscious instead of Steven; Or even when she got thrown into a tree by Aquamarine.

It made Steven sick. He felt so bad for not being there for his sister, despite having powers, having to watch her sacrifice so much, including her health. Life was generous with them for not allowing Nora to die.

Now, being grown up, he realized how much of an absentee brother he has been.

He wondered how his sister had felt all those years; Lonely, helpless, sad. He always confessed how different he felt being half human and half gem, in an overwhelming combination of both universes.

But what about Nora?

While Steven belonged to both universes, Nora felt like she belonged anywhere. She was a human, but had no acknowledgement to behave like one, having 0 clue about socialization; At the same time she found herself in gem missions, but wasn't one, being unable to summon a weapon to protect herself.

Guilty crawled into his skin. Imagining her silently crying herself to sleep, believing she was less worthy than him, while he slept peacefully; Trying to imagine the amount of pain she hid while he genuinely smiled; Wondering how low her selfstem was when he was being cheered up by her loving words.

He really failed as a brother.

It was past midnight, both siblings in Steven's room. Nora had calmed down from her intense meltdown, her rosy cheeks now dry from the incessant tears, head resting on his lap.

Her breathing was steady, which meant she wasn't having any nightmares. A weak smile formed on Steven's lips as he watched her sleeping form, missing the old times when they shared the bed and cuddled while trying to fall asleep.

He used this free time to think of the best option to approach his sister after that incident. He couldn't help feeling hurt remembering Nora's words earlier that night; She said how much she resented him, hated him for being the reason she didn't go to school, angered by the fact he let her be in his shadow.

And also, how quickly, after realizing what she said, Nora desperately clutched his shirt and begged for forgiveness. Shrivers ran his body remembering the desperate tone in her voice, noticing that even in such an extreme moment she didn't allow herself to feel any negative emotions, especially towards him.

It was impossible to not blame himself for her emotional mess.

Slowly, Nora opened her dark orbits, adjusting her vision until the figure ahead her unblurred. She recognized it was her brother.

She could feel the softness of his hands caressing her curly hair. Warmth mixed with anxiety filled her chest when looked into Steven's eyes. They were so full of love, care, but worry at the same time.

She knew they would have a long talk.

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe fandom #steven universe fanfic #steven universe au #steven universe double quartz au #double quartz au #steven universe & nora universe

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commander-krios · 2 years

Note

[ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards. (if the receiver has short hair, then the sender reaches out and gently runs their fingers through their hair to smooth it back.)

Here ya go! Part 2 of a 2 part fic. Part 1 is here. Used some Jonas/Keshani in the background of this fic, but I might do a follow up later about what happens a few days later between them, once they've both stopped being shaken over the events of the fic. Enjoy!

~~~~

“I can’t believe you just let her go.”

“I didn’t let her do anything.” Jonas snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as the Rattataki woman stood toe to toe with him. Kaliyo may be a full foot shorter than him, but she was capable of a lot of violence and he didn’t have any intention of being on the receiving end of it. “If you knew Keshani as well as you say you do, you know that arguing with her has no effect anyway.”

“She can’t argue if she’s unconscious.”

Derrick stared daggers at the mercenary, not finding any of this as amusing as she seemed to. “Considering Keshani is probably getting tortured at the moment, forgive me for not laughing.”

“Calm down, spook. She owes me credits. I’m not going to let her die.”

“Charming.” He muttered, moving to the window of the warehouse where they’d set up reconnaissance. The Sith knew they were there, Jonas figured she could sense the Alliance Commander’s anger in the Force, but she hadn’t done anything but fortify her base of operations. The entire building was swarming with Imperial guards now.

“Is there anything else we can do besides standing here?” Arcann asked, standing near the same window as Derrick.

Having Arcann this close made Jonas’ skin crawl. He swore it was because the former Eternal Emperor was responsible for killing so many of his friends during the Eternal Empire’s war against the Republic. He refused to consider the other option. The one that involved Keshani.

“I vote for explosives.” Kaliyo said with a savage grin. He had no idea what the former Imperial Agent saw in the Rattataki, but he could admit that she was perfect if they needed a distraction.

“We need to be careful with how we approach this. Keshani could get caught in the crossfire.” Lana explained as gently as she could, not even bothering to glance up from her datapad. “Theron agrees with the assessment.”

Jonas rolled his eyes. Theron, of course, had been busy on another assignment. What he wouldn’t give to have his best friend here besides the Sith. Although, her powers could come in handy.

“It doesn’t matter what Theron thinks, he isn’t here.” The Alliance Commander was the tallest person in the room, a hulking mass of a Sith, a warrior with no equal. Or so the rumors said. Jonas hadn’t seen him in action before, but just by looking at him, he believed them. Kieran Zythor was well over 6’5, long blonde hair brushing his shoulders, piercing green eyes that matched his twin’s. Three diagonal scars ran along the left side of his face. Cybernetics covered the other side. If that wasn’t enough to give a person pause, the terrifying calm he radiated would.

“Then what do you propose we do?” Arcann asked, the only person in the room besides Lana who could look the Commander in the eye and not flinch. “The more time we waste, the more likely we are to rescue a body.”

Jonas winced at that, unable to imagine Keshani dead at the hands of a vengeful Sith. To have all of these people gathered together to save her, to risk their own lives to make sure hers didn’t end, said a lot about the kind of person she was.

“Who’s the Zabrak?” Kaliyo asked, sitting on a rickety chair and throwing her feet up on the only table in the room. “I don’t recognize her from the Cipher days.”

Lana typed something into the datapad. “Lord Kallig. Birth name unknown. She was once a slave on Dromund Kaas until she was found to have an affinity for the Force. She apprenticed under Darth Nox.”

That name was familiar… and a terrible thought entered his head.

“Is… Is she doing this under Nox’s orders?”

The Commander bared his teeth in a vicious growl. “If she is, I’m going to rip Nox’s head from her body.”

“Kieran- perhaps threatening to murder the Empress of the Sith isn’t the best course of action.” Lana warned him gently.

“I’m not threatening the Empress. I’m threatening my sister. And I’ll damned well do what I want.” He hit the table in front of him so hard that it shook. Kaliyo immediately returned her feet to the floor, a look of alarm crossing her face.

“Whoa, big guy. We won’t let anything happen to her.” She said, in a way that could’ve been considered comforting if it was anyone but her.

“Don’t patronize me, Rattataki.”

Kaliyo rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Probably smart on her part.

“Listen, we don’t know what we’re walking into. Lord Kallig is a powerful assassin and a sorceress, much like the Empress.” Lana explained, her voice calm in the midst of turmoil. Jonas was positive that without Lana’s presence, the warehouse they stood in would’ve been in flames.

“We need a plan that doesn’t involve getting any of ourselves killed in the process. We are useless if we’re dead.” Derrick interjected, a permanent scowl on his face. He hadn’t been pleasant since Keshani had disappeared with that Zabrak. Not that Jonas could say he’d been either.

“Yes.” Lana agreed, finally setting her datapad down to look at those gathered. “I think a good place to start would be with Kaliyo and her explosives.”

The Rattataki perked right up at those words. “Yeah? Speak to me, oh Sithy one.”

Lana’s lips twitched with a shadow of a smile, but she managed to keep it at bay. “Let’s discuss options.”

~~~~

Her eyes opened to darkness.

Keshani wasn’t sure of how much time had passed since she’d surrendered herself to Lord Kallig, but by the ache in her arms and back, it had been hours at least. The chair she was secured to was uncomfortable, the cuffs rubbing the skin of her wrists raw. A dull throbbing in her head made her hiss in the silence. The Sith hadn’t been kind even though she came willingly.

Her head fell back against the chair, a groan slipping past her lips. She was most likely concussed and if that was true, she was going to have an awful time trying to escape.

“Good. You’re awake.”

The lights of the cell flickered on, blinding her. Keshani shut her eyes, trying to keep her breathing even and steady, trying to keep her anxiety from overwhelming her.

“Was this necessary?” She managed to ask, her eyes opening to slits so that she could watch the Zabrak Sith without worrying about getting a lightsaber in the gut.

The Zabrak shrugged, a grin curling her lips. “I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Keshani would have laughed if she wasn’t in pain. With all of the years she worked with Sith, Lord Kallig had been a whisper in the shadows, one of those Sith that parents told their kids about to get them to do their chores. While Keshani’s older sister was a force to be reckoned with, she’d managed to usurp Vowrawn not long ago, Kallig could be considered an equal in cruelty to the new Empress.

Kallig was more than an enemy. She was a threat to the entire Alliance.

Clearing her throat, Keshani waited briefly as her vision adjusted to the brightness. Then she met the Sith’s crimson eyes. “What things am I here to do for you?”

The smile turned suddenly cruel. “Oh Cipher. You think I brought you here for your help?”

The laugh that followed her question did little to ease her anxiety.

“Oh no, my darling. I have other plans for you.” Reaching out, Kallig scraped a sharp nail against her cheek. “So let’s get started, shall we?”

~~~~

Derrick laid on the ledge beside him, eye pressed to the scope of his rifle, keeping an eye on the guards below. Kieran, Lana, and Arcann were going to clear a path for the rest of them, their Force powers more powerful than any blaster was. The rest of them would follow once the guards were dispatched and then together, they would find the Sith and hopefully, Keshani.

Lana had supplied Kaliyo with a box of grenades and mines. Jonas didn’t want to know where the Sith had acquired them. All he wanted at that moment was to be looking for Keshani. He could only imagine the sorts of torture that she was suffering at the hands of a vicious Sith Lord.

Forcing the image from his mind, Jonas focused on the scene below. Lana and Kieran had sliced through the first set of guards, red and purple lightsabers making it easier to follow their progress. He didn’t see the former Eternal Emperor at first, but when a guard dropped to the ground dead a few feet from where the Sith were, the yellow glow of Arcann’s lightsaber signaled his arrival.

Derrick noticed it as well if his snort was any indication.

Jonas was momentarily distracted by the flash of the Alliance Commander’s weapons, violet and teal creating a beautiful whirlwind of colors in the darkness of the alley. Keshani was right about her brother: he was fiercely protective of her, but he was also one hell of a dramatic Sith.

With a growl, he threw one of his sabers at a guard. The blade sliced a devastating wound into the man’s chest and he dropped to the ground without a sound. Kieran didn’t notice the cloaked figure approaching him from behind, but Derrick did. His rifle cracked loudly, a bolt finding home in the skull of his target.

The Commander’s gaze briefly dropped to the body before finding Derrick above him. The tiniest of smiles curled his lips. He nodded his thanks before turning back to the task at hand.

“Show off,” Jonas muttered, securing a blaster in each hand before moving to the ladder.

Derrick was silent, intent on keeping his focus on the battlefield. It was probably for the best, Jonas didn’t want to get into an argument when they had other pressing concerns. He descended the ladder quickly, his feet finding solid ground only a few seconds later.

The Sith and Arcann had finished clearing out what guards were posted outside the main door. He had to step over a few bodies and scattered body parts before he reached their side. He tried to ignore the sudden disgust that turned his stomach, knowing that these Imperials probably weren’t all just ‘doing their job.’ Many of them enjoyed hurting others. Perhaps this was some sort of justice for crimes they committed.

“Are you going to be alright, Agent Balkar?” Lana’s eerily calm voice broke through his morose thoughts. “You could stay behind if you can’t handle the fight.”

Jonas wanted to scoff, to snap at her, but he managed to hold back those instincts. They wouldn’t serve him here. “I’m not… used to working with Sith. I’ll be fine.”

Lana didn’t appear convinced by the words, but she stayed silent.

“Is the Rattataki ready?” Kieran asked no one in particular, eyes on the door that sat only a few feet away.

To Jonas’ surprise, Arcann was the one to answer. “Yes.”

“Then blow the door. Kallig has a date with my lightsaber.”

~~~~

An explosion rocked the building, the light in her cell flickering wildly before casting the entire room in darkness.

“Oh goodie, our guests are here.”

Kallig sounded entirely too excited about coming face to face with whatever army Kieran had brought with him. No doubt, he’d already wiped out a large portion of her guards and would do anything he had to to bring her back home. And she knew, by his side, would be Jonas and Derrick.

The thought would’ve been relieving if she was in the hands of anyone else but a Sith Lord.

The glow of a purple-black core lightsaber was the only illumination in the room. Kallig held it close enough to her face so that her expression could be seen. Baring her sharp teeth in a grin, the Zabrak pulled Keshani from her chair with only the use of the force. She almost stumbled at the suddenness of it, but managed to stay upright.

“Come, Cipher. Let’s go say hello.”

They didn’t have to walk far from her cell. At the far end of the hallway was her brother and his entourage. Even with her cybernetic enhancements, it was hard to see who was who, but she would recognize the colors of his sabers no matter where they were.

When Kallig was certain he was in earshot, she let out a giggle that sounded completely unhinged. “I was hoping you would get my invitation, m’lord. You certainly are a difficult man to get in contact with.”

“Let her go, Vaka, and perhaps I’ll let you live.” Kieran growled, his lightsabers sparking wildly. His anger was barely in control and Keshani heard the threat in his voice. He would kill Kallig where she stood if she didn’t.

“Tsk, tsk, Kieran. We both know I can’t do that.” The Zabrak’s lightsaber was pointed at Keshani’s throat, the humming filling her ears and the heat scorching the skin. “I was sent here to kill both of you and I intend to honor my contracts.”

Movement behind her brother caught Keshani’s eye. Arcann was there, the glow of his own lightsaber joining Kieran’s. And next to him… was Jonas.

He was trying not to appear afraid, but she could see the way the corners of his eyes tightened, the twist of his lips into a frown, his body tense. Keshani knew he feared for her life, but this wasn’t the first time a Sith had threatened to kill her.

Her twin stepped forward, diverting her attention as he pointed his teal lightsaber at Kallig. “Duel me, coward. If you defeat me, then the Force wills it.”

Vaka’s crimson gaze turned to meet Kieran’s challenge. “Very well. We will see if the Alliance Commander is still as powerful as he thinks he is.”

“When you fall, I’ll send your head back to your Empress.”

A manic laugh escaped from Kallig’s mouth before she lunged. Kieran’s sabers came up defensively, stopping the single lightsaber she carried. With her free hand, she conjured a ball of lightning, but before she could aim it, Kieran spun away, his lightsabers flashing.

Keshani took the opportunity to press herself against the wall, keeping herself as far from the fight as possible. If she wanted to get out of here alive, and get her stubborn brother out alive, she was going to have to be smart. Her back collided with durasteel walls and she shifted closer to the encroaching darkness.

Kieran was focused on the fight, his face twisted as he snarled at Kallig. She ducked as he swung his violet lightsaber, getting an opportunity to unleash some of her chain lightning at him. His teal saber came down and deflected the majority of the attack, but he was still burned by a few bolts.

He used the pain to feed his anger, coming at Kallig without hesitation. She didn’t stand a chance against his brute strength, but the Zabrak was a Sith assassin. She disappeared into the shadows before his strike could connect, her laughter echoing after her. Kieran growled, glancing wildly into the darkness, searching for a hint of her location, anything that would give her away.

Kieran’s cybernetics weren’t the same ones that Keshani had spent years adjusting to her work. His were meant to administer painkillers, to help him heal the worst of his injuries, and to give him stimulants to keep him on his feet during a fight. Keshani’s, however, enhanced her eyesight and hearing. As a sniper, it was a necessity. Imperial Intelligence made sure that their agents had had advantages.

Lightning manifested behind Kieran, a violet and white so bright that it was blinding. He didn’t get his sabers in their defensive positions in time. The lightning hit him square in the chest, scorching the plating of his armor and forcing him back, a sickening crack following as his head smacked against the wall.

Keshani didn’t think.

With her arms still bound, she ran towards where the lightning had originated until her body collided with the shadowy figure of Kallig, both of them sprawling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The Zabrak roared in anger when her cloaking failed, exposing her to Kieran’s allies.

None of them could get to her side fast enough. Kallig grabbed Keshani by the hair, yanking her backwards until she felt the Sith’s fangs sink into the tender flesh of her shoulder. She could easily rip her throat out from this angle and Keshani froze, her entire body waiting for that death strike.

The humming of Lana and Arcann’s lightsabers filled the silence. Keshani searched for Jonas in the darkness, relieved to find him well, but his expression did little to ease her own fears. Warm blood dripped down her neck, the sharp teeth stinging her with any small movement. If she was going to die, then at least she would be able to see Jonas one last time.

“Release her.”

The voice came from behind Kallig, not from the small group in front of them. And it wasn’t Kieran…but Derrick. Keshani couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. Hope fluttered in her chest for the first time that night.

Kallig removed her teeth enough to speak. “What makes you think you can stop me before I rip her throat out?”

Derrick was silent for a brief moment. Keshani could hear her brother moving a few feet away, but she didn’t dare look in his direction. Maybe Kallig wouldn’t notice him until it was too late.

Derrick let out a snort. “I’m the best shot that the SIS has. No offense, Keshani.”

Gods, she loved that man. She just would never tell him that.

Jonas took a step forward, blaster in hand. “Do you want to test that claim, Sith? Let her go. You’re outnumbered.”

Kallig growled viciously before removing her teeth completely. Then she shoved Keshani to the ground. She landed on her injured shoulder, the pain nearly enough to knock her out, but Jonas was suddenly there, cutting the bindings from her aching wrists. Arcann and Lana were on Kallig before she could think to escape.

When she lifted her eyes to meet Jonas’ concerned gaze, she felt like she could breathe again. She was alive, he was here with her. Kallig would end up in a disrupter collar somewhere on an Alliance base. Reaching out, Jonas brushed a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on her cheek momentarily before he checked her wound.

“What in the nine kriffing hells were you thinking?” He whispered, applying a kolto bandage to the bite marks. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. ‘Broke Down Speeder’.” Keshani teased, ignoring the sudden lightheadedness she felt. She stopped herself from saying anything else when Derrick appeared at her shoulder.

“What the fucking hell-”

“I already asked her that.” Jonas interrupted sharper than he probably intended, but his jaw was clenched as he watched the Force users deal with the Sith. “The Commander and his crew seem to have everything in hand. Keshani needs medical attention. We need to get her to the safe house.”

Derrick glowered at his friend, but nodded his approval nonetheless. Once she was secured with one arm over each of their shoulders, they began to move in the direction that Jonas had entered the warehouse. Keshani glanced back briefly to see Kallig watching her with those crimson eyes, focused and full of vicious malice.

She knew that this encounter was far from over. Kallig wouldn’t rest until she and Kieran were dead.

However long that would take.

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itsme-basil · 2 years

Text

Ritual - read on ao3

Tags: sterek, public sex

Tagging: @therogueheart

It's on the nemeton that Stiles loses his virginity. It's the middle of fall, and although they're in California, they're north enough that the air still nips at Stiles' bare skin.

He shivers and trembles as he walks beside Derek towards the nemeton. Behind them, Lydia, Scott, Kira, Issac, Erica and Boyd are following. Stiles chances a glance up at Derek, his face an emotionless wall. Stiles' heart beats in his throat and he turns his attention back to the trail in front of him so he doesn't trip.

They tried to find another way. They really did. But this was the only way Deaton could find that would actually be permanent. They'd tried everything else. Stiles' magic had taken a toll, the betas had grown tired. The town was dying.

"The nemeton needs a life force to survive," Deaton had said. "A sacrifice great enough to jumpstart it back to life."

And what greater sacrifice than a virgin? But not just any virgin. Stiles was a virgin with a spark powerful enough to blow every electrical grid in Beacon County.

Stiles was the perfect sacrifice, and he didn't have to die to contribute. But there was a catch, and it was Derek.

"A Hale has always been at the center of Beacon Hills," Deaton said evenly. "Derek needs to be the one to perform the ritual."

Ritualistic sex. Deaton had done weeks worth of research and what he came up with was Stiles losing his virginity on a big dying tree to Derek fucking Hale.

And maybe Stiles agreed to it a little too quickly, but who could blame him? Derek had been the subject to many 'a wet dream since Stiles' freshmen year of high school. After years of fighting off bad guys and saving each other's lives, the little crush Stiles harbored for Derek was dangerously close to being love.

So if course, when faced with the option to fuck Derek Hale to save Beacon Hills, Stiles was totally on board.

Though he wasn't expecting the whole pack to have to be there too. Stiles was less thrilled about that, if he was honest.

They reached the clearing much faster than Stiles anticipated, and he had to force himself not to turn around and run back into the woods. The pack fanned out around the tree, setting up everything they needed for the ritual. Stiles stood there, staring at the tree with a lump in his throat.

Suddenly the thought of sacrificing his virginity on a tree didn't seem all that appealing. He had spent that evening fingering himself open, getting himself ready, but now he just wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the covers.

"You don't have to do this," Scott said, coming to stand beside Stiles. He glanced over at his friend and gave him a shacky smile. "We can find another way."

Stiles shook his head. "There isn't another way," he reminded the beta. There wasn't enough time. The town was dying. Supernatural bad guys were coming in droves and the pack couldn't defend against them all. They'd already lost Allison and the twins. The loss took a toll on Derek.

They needed to do this. Stiles needed to man up.

Derek stepped over once everything was ready, holding out a hand. Stiles took it, twisting their fingers together and letting the alpha pull him to the tree.

"You guys know what you need to do," Derek said to the pack at large. They all nodded. Stiles swallowed thickly. They had to say a bunch of words in Latin and light candles the whole time Derek fucked Stiles into the tree.

They were supposed to blow the candles out when they'd finished, and that was it. A simple ritual, but Stiles still found himself digging his heels into the ground.

Derek paused and stepped up to him, setting both hands on Stiles' shoulders. Stiles glanced up at him, biting his lower lip hard enough to hurt.

"Scott's right," Derek said softly. "We can find another way."

Stiles swallowed and shook his head. "We don't have time," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Just-just uhh-"

Derek nodded, understanding without Stiles needing to say anything. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. His pants went next. Stiles forced himself to shed his clothes too, eyes glued to the ground. He didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want to see them watching him as he got naked.

Derek took his hand and helped him onto the tree. The top was smooth, worn down by decades of weather. Candlelight flickered around them and Stiles trembled as he got into his knees. Derek was right behind him, just as naked as he was.

"It's alright," Derek murmured. Stiles forced himself to nod, glancing over his shoulder at the alpha. He couldn't hold his eye for long. Instead, he leaned forward until he was on his hands and knees and pinched his eyes closed.

"Just do it already, please," he whimpered, loud enough for Derek and the other werewolves to hear. His whole skin felt tight and hot with embarrassment.

Derek shuffled forward and a hand hesitantly touched his hip. Stiles dropped into his elbows so he could bury his face in his arms, quaking in the cool night air.

The pack began to speak in Latin and Stiles felt the head of Derek's cock at his entrance. He braced himself, holding his breath as Derek slowly slid into him.

He was bigger than Stiles' dildos at home, thicker and longer. He split Stiles open with a deep burn that had him biting into his forearm.

"I know," Derek spoke softly. "I'm sorry."

Stiles held his breath until Derek was fully inside him, the two pausing a moment for Stiles to get used to the intrusion.

"I'm okay," he managed. They couldn't wait around for Stiles to get comfortable. The ritual was time sensitive. Stiles and Derek both had to cum before the ritual was completed, or it wouldn't take.

Derek apologized again before holding Stiles' hips with both hands and rocked into him. The pace was steady, the thrusts shallow. Stiles whimpered into his arms, tears burning at his eyes. It hurt. It wasn't what Stiles wanted.

He wanted his first time to be in a bed with soft music playing. He had imagined his first time differently. This wasn't it.

Derek picked up his pace, shifted his hips and pressed forward and Stiles gasped when he hit his prostate. Derek hit the same spot over and over after that, forcing pleasure through Stiles in wave after wave.

His cock hung between his legs, swinging back and forth and hard. He could tell Derek was getting close. The alpha's grip on him tightening by incriments. Stiles slowly pulled one of his arms free, sparing a glance at the pack in front of him.

Lydia was there, and so was Boyd. He couldnt see the others without turning his head, and he didn't want to do that. Just knowing Lydia and Boyd were watching was hard enough for Stiles to do what he needed to do.

He reached down between his legs and fisted his cock, covering his eyes with his arm once more. He felt the tree under him thrum, felt his spark call out to it. Felt the pull. It was working.

Stiles stroked himself to the rhythm Derek set, and when the alpha hit his prostate once, twice, three times, Stiles came with a choked off moan, spilling his seed onto the nemeton.

Derek grunted behind him, hips stuttering. His own orgasm rocked through both their bodies and he howled into the air. Stiles felt cum spilling inside him, dribbling down to his balls and mixing with his own release on the nemeton.

The pack stopped, the candles were all blown out, and Derek pulled out of him. Stiles dropped into his side, trembling as he curled into himself.

"Did it work?" He heard Scott ask. Stiles tucked his chin into his chest.

"It worked," Lydia sighed in relief. A blanket was settled over Stiles and he glanced up to see Derek. He had put his pants back on, and silently urged Stiles up.

"Are you alright?"

Stiles glanced over to Erica and nodded, throat tight. Derek got him seated on the edge of the nemeton and he ducked his head into the alpha's shoulder. He couldn't bare to look at anyone.

"Go home," Derek ordered. "I'll take Stiles home."

There were a few refusals -mostly from Scott- but after a while, they all left the clearing, leaving Stiles and Derek alone.

Derek didn't say anything until he couldn't hear anyone straggling behind, his arm curled around Stiles' shoulders.

"You okay?" Derek asked. Stiles gave a pitiful nod, finally lifting his head up from Derek's shoulder. He pulled the blanket closer around him.

"M'okay," he said, voice raw. He sniffled a little and Derek pulled him in a little closer, looking full of regret. "I'm glad we did it. It's just not how I pictured my first time."

The admittence was hollow and he wiped at his cheek. "There wasn't any other way," he said, not sure if he was telling Derek, or convincing himself.

"I didn't want your first time to be that either," Derek softly confessed. Stiles glanced up at him, their faces only inches apart.

"No?" He asked. He didn't think Derek cared that much about where Stiles had his first time. Derek gave him a look he couldn't quite read, a hand coming up to brush a tear from Stiles' cheek.

"No," he said. "I would've done it on a bed. When you were ready. Not when the fate of the town was at stake and everyone was watching."

Stiles gave a wet little laugh, rubbing at his nose with the blanket curled around his hand. Then he blinked and looked back up at Derek with a furrowed brow.

"You would?"

Had Derek just confessed something to him? The alpha gave a small sad smile and nodded, thumb continuing to brush along Stiles' cheek even after he'd stopped crying.

"I wou-would've liked that," Stiles murmured, his eyes dropping down to Derek's mouth, dropping further to his bare chest. Exhaustion had his eyelids drooping, and he wanted nothing more than to continue talking about this, but the urge to lean forward and fall asleep on the alpha was winning the battle.

"Can I-" Derek started. Stiles forced his eyes open, lifted his head to look at Derek again. "Can I kiss you?"

Stiles felt his heartbeat skip and he gave a small nod, barely perceptible if Derek wasn't so close to him.

Derek's hand moved from his cheek to his jaw, gently pulling Stiles in and kissing him softly. It was a closed mouth kiss, and his lips were soft against Stiles'.

It lasted a few seconds, but it felt longer. Derek pulled away and bumped their noses together. Stiles let out another wet sounding laugh.

"Can you take me home now?" He asked, fighting off sleep. Derek nodded and stood up, helping Stiles up too. Stiles got dressed with Derek's help and crawled into the alpha's back when offered.

He hooked his chin over Derek's shoulder, eyes closed as he drifted. "Will you stay?" He mumbled as they reached the parking lot. The only car left was Stiles' jeep. Someone must've taken the Camero.

"I'll stay," Derek nodded. Stiles smiled sleepily into his shoulder and didn't bother helping the alpha when it was time to get into the jeep. Derek huffed and leaned over him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before shutting the door and rounding to the passenger side.

#sterek #teen wolf #kinktober #my writing

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savetheamazingcakes · 1 year

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Part 3!

In a time that is certainly soon, but feels far too long, Amare is nearly at the lab’s doorstep, already yelling for someone–anyone–to open that damn door.

Faintly, shuffling is heard through the other side as a member of the ACOTKU grumbles about it being far too late for this. The worker opens the door and scrunches their face up at the sight of two dirt street rats on the doorstep. “P-please h-help him! I’m b-begging you, please! He c-can’t die yet! He’s b-bleeding out and- and-”

“We ain’t a charity. It’s way too late fer ya ta be out here. Come back in the mornin’.”

“B-but I can’t w-wait ‘til mornin’!”

“It’s only an hour away, anyone can wait that lon–”

A soft looking cheraloo steps up next to the rude worker with a questioning look on their face. “Who’s at the door– Oh my goodness! Step inside; quick quick! We need to get the little one checked out–”

“Ey, we’re closed! Ya can’t let these rats in!”

“Let me do my job, iji! Get the operation room ready!”

“But–” the other cheraloo levels a glare at their coworker. “Fine.”

“We need to hurry. Hand him to me and I can–”

As the worker reaches her dirty, rotten talons for his brother, Amare hisses. “Don’t hurt him!”

The worker raises her talons placatingly. “I took an oath to care for shoats like you, I’ll do what I can.”

Amare stares with distrust, but knowing he has no other options, he offers his brother to the woman. He doesn’t like this, but what choice is there? This lady is already a blessing with her willingness to help.

How genuine is this help, though?

How soon until she puts them into a debt they can’t hope to pay, even with Amare’s hopefully future position within the ACOTKU?

He can’t help but wonder things along these lines as he waits impatiently by the door, hesitant to step into the white room that makes up the lobby of the lab. The room isn’t empty of decorations, but it feels barren. It’s impersonal, as a lobby usually feels, but the white walls do it no favours.

Once a drop of rain lands on Amare’s head, causing a slight discomfort, he sucks it up and walks over to one of the plastic chairs.

Amare sits, his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He thinks. He doesn’t usually dwell on things, but this is so much worse than his brother going to a boarding home. He tries to close his eyes and doze off, but images of his brother’s dying body and tear stained face stick to his eyelids as though they were glued there.

How did it all go wrong so quickly? Why did he have to let himself blow up at his brother like that? The day was going so well, but he lost his temper over the stupidest thing. He doesn’t want his brother to meet Lady Death over this. Over his mistakes. Amare sighs. No use in spiraling, but what else is there to do but dwell? Once it’s all over, they can go home, Amare can pass his exam, and they can both get better lives. Right? Surely Altora will pull through. He couldn’t possibly die yet.

…

Right?

Hours passed in what crawled on like days. The jerk that wouldn’t let them in would exit the room occasionally, leaving to grab supplies. Why was he getting more stuff? Were they just dissecting him now? Was he already dead? Were they just giving the poor teen false hope?

The answer, as it turned out, was no. When he finally had enough of it, slamming his hands on the armrest and speaking ‘calmly’, “Have ya h-hurt him w-worse than ‘e already is?”

“Eugh, why would we dirty our operatin’ room with more o’ his grime than necessary? No, he’s not hurt worse! We’re fixin’ him alright!?” The mean worker refuted in an awfully rude manner.

Amare simply glared and sat himself back down. As much as he wanted to throttle the man, he needed to remain calm and not get himself kicked out of the lab. It was raining, and that did not mean pleasant things for him if he were to wait outside. He crossed his arms and turned his gaze to the floor. There was a burning behind his eyes. He needed to stay strong.

More time passed before the kind worker stepped out of the operating room. Amare looked up with hopeful eyes. “I have some news. Would ya like the good or bad, first?”

The teen’s expression dropped. “Th-the b-bad news?” He held his breath.

“Well, the bad news is yer brother ‘ad severe damage ta ‘is liver. The thing was totalled. We couldn’t keep it. The good news, ‘owever, is that we were lucky enough to have a transplant on hand, so he’s gonna be just fine.”

A sigh of relief left Amare as his muscles went lax and he collapsed into the chair. His brother is okay! Altora is gonna be okay! He’s alive! A light chortle left his mouth in relief. “When can I see ‘im?”

“As soon as we get ‘im ta a better room. ‘M sure ya don’t wanna see ‘im in the waitin’ room.”

“He’s in the what?”

“The waitin’ room before ‘e gets put inta a room ta recover.”

“Oh. Okay.” Amare just stared blankly. He’s so happy, but he’s just…so tired. The exhaustion weighs on his mind as he blinks slowly, the clear vertical covering barely showing. Black spots start to cover his vision. He collapses to the floor, the surgeon barely catching him in time.

— — —

Altora woke up slowly, the world around him a daze. Muffled voices spoke above him, sounding as though they were spoken through water. A soft touch to his headfeathers sent pleasant sparks dancing in his head. His brain felt like slush, melting out of his head. Everything was too muddled and too bright. He whined lightly, closing his eyes and falling back to sleep in the soft touch to his head.

The next time he woke up, his mind was much more clear. It was still murky, but he could sort of understand the voices speaking above him. One held the characteristic low, scratchy warbles and chirps of his brother. The other was much cleaner, holding a quickly rising and dropping pitch most cheraloos had when speaking common. The ups and downs made his head hurt. He heard a high sound that must have been his voice. It felt scratchy and worn. A hand was brought to gently pat his head, causing a trill to unwittingly be released from him. It was nice. The claws lightly scratching his head was nice. Everything felt nice and fuzzy except for his throat. That hurt. “‘Ey b-bud, ya feelin’ any better?” asked the lower voice.

He whined in reply, unable to form words in his throat at the moment. “Shhh, i-it’s alright. Y-ya need a drink?”

Altora nodded. That sent his brain spiraling in dizziness. He resolved to not shake his head anymore. “I can go grab some if ya need. I’ll leave ya two to yer reunion,” said the other voice. It was in his native language, meaning much easier on his ears. The clacking steps of talons on the floor started and faded. A curtain opened and closed.

The room was silent, save for the breathing of him and his older brother. The silence was nice, it didn’t leave him holding his breath, waiting for something to happen. They sat for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. This felt like the calm after the storm, the time where everything finally dies down and the survivors of the wreckage begin rising. The Lady had not taken him that time, and he was more thankful than ever.

All feeling suddenly hit him, the events of that night and the sensitivity of his body causing him to feel overwhelmed. It was a lot. Tears welled up in his eyes and he dove for his brother, engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug. Amare stood there for a moment, frozen by the sudden speed of his previously groggy brother. After a moment, however, he wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in his brother’s feathers, and cried. They both sat there for however long it took for the lady to come back, sobbing in relief at the sight of the other. They were going to be okay. Apologies were in order, but those could wait a bit longer.

The lady quietly opened the curtain, pretended there weren’t two children sobbing into each other’s arms, and set down the glass softly. She swiftly left the room, silently as she entered. The two were left to each other, and in the exhaustion of crying, Altora fell asleep. He was still drugged on painkillers to high heofon, after all. Amare sighed when he felt his brother finally go lax; he set him down lightly onto the bed, kissed his forehead, and sat down by his bedside.

The exams were in two days, at this point. Amare pulled out his notebook and textbook. This cursed thing caused his brother harm, but it’s the thing that will get them out of major future danger. He can’t be forced to leave his brother because of war. He sat for hours by his brother’s bedside, rereading his notes and double checking the book.

The younger continuously woke up and dozed off that day and the next. He barely had the energy to stay awake for a few hours at a time. The day of exams had come when Amare realized he would need to leave his brother for that brief period. He didn’t want to. He almost couldn’t bring himself to, but he steeled his nerves and called for the nicer worker. She and the other guy were the only people there constantly, and it turned out she didn’t do much else than care for patients during the day. “Y-yer sure he’s gonna be okay if I leave ‘im?”

“O’ course, hon. I can keep an eye on ‘im while ya go do yer exam. He’ll be safe with me.”

Amare looked at her for a lie, any sign she would betray him at the slightest moment. Her eyes held only the truth. Satisfied with what he found, he gave a slight tilt to his head–a small nod, if you will–and walked through the curtain. His pawed feet made no noise, despite the claws that should have been clicking on the floor. The exams were waiting. His future was waiting.

PART 1 PART 2

#HASO #I told you I could never kill altora #I love him too much #next part is gonna be a sec bc I need to add a section

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Cursed Part 1- Steve Harrington x OC

Steve Harrington x Ella Warner

Description: Ella becomes nervous when Max explains the “symptoms” of Vecna’s curse. Why did they sound eerily similar to what she’d been going through over the past week?

Word Count: 1.9k

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Miss Kelly for help,” Max explained shakily as she looked through the duo’s files in said woman’s office at Hawkins High. Ella, Steve and Dustin looked between themselves unsurely, but Ella was the one most on edge.

“Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that wouldn’t go away,” the redhead continued. Almost as if on cue, the dull throbbing she’d gotten used to by this point slowly blossomed at the back of Ella’s head, slowly seeping its way to the front and getting sharper as it reached it. Her eyes closed for a moment as she willed herself not to grimace while Max continued reading.

“And then…then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat,” she read aloud. Ella was brought back to just last night, the night before Chrissy’s body was discovered. That was the last time she’d had a nightmare. It was worse than what Miss Kelly had written on paper. It wasn’t just cold sweats, it was waking up still thinking that she was in the hellscape that her mind had subjected her to. It was the tears and choked sobs that never seemed to end or even slow down as she attempted to gather her bearings in her dark and mostly shapeless bedroom.

“Then they started seeing things. Bad things. From their pasts,” Max spoke. Like Ella’s dad, who had died just last year?

“These visions, they just… they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually… everything ended.” Ella had to force herself not to flinch as the younger girl finished her little explanation.

“Vecna’s curse,” Dustin muttered, earning a nod from her.

Chrissy's headache started a week ago. Fred's, six days ago. I've been having them for five days,” she said quietly, which made every single one of them tense up. “I don't know how long I have. All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so… looks like I'm gonna die tomorrow.” While everyone just looked amongst themselves once again, Ella was internally panicking. Not only had she displayed all the “symptoms” of Vecna’s curse, but she’d already had a vision of the grandfather clock.

It was just after her latest nightmare. She had gotten up to get a glass of water and maybe call Steve in order to calm herself down. Before she had a chance to pick up the receiver, spiders began crawling out of the bottom of it. She remembered how scared she’d been, and when she turned to the front door to run out, she was met with a grandfather clock that was at least two feet taller than her. The pendulum swung in time with the ticking of the second hand, and it felt like a clap of thunder every time. Something stuck out like a sore thumb to her (other than the fact that there was an unfamiliar clock in her house): the Black Widow spider that crawled around in circles on the pendulum.

Thankfully her phone ringing had woken her up from the weird trance she seemed to be in. At first she just brushed it off as an extension of her nightmare that made her sleepwalk. As for her other symptoms, her therapist had told her that she may experience some side effects as the anniversary of the Starcourt Mall incident came up, so she chalked it up to that. Of course she now knew that wasn’t the case.

Ella was at a loss for words on what to do. On one hand there was a possibility that she was just overthinking things and connecting them to the situation incorrectly. On the other, there was a much bigger and very real possibility that it was too late for her. She’d already had a vision, and it had already been fourteen hours. Her shoulders slumped a bit as she realized that the second option was more likely. How was she going to tell the others? How was she going to tell Steve? He had definitely noticed a difference in her over the past week, but she hadn’t confided in him about what was going on because she didn’t think that it was that bad. At this point Nancy and Robin hadn’t found any answers about how to deal with this because at the moment they were only learning about Victor Creel, so as far as they knew there wasn’t a way to fix this. So, she decided to accept her fate and not tell anyone. It would be better for them to not have that dread added to an already scary situation.

The next day was tense for everyone. Lucas had previously joined the group after informing them that Jason Carver and his friends were going after Eddie and everyone decided to spend the night in Nancy Wheeler’s basement in order to keep an eye on Max. That morning Nancy and Robin left for the Pennhurst Asylum to talk to Victor Creel and get more information on what happened to his family.

While they did that, Max asked Steve to drive her all around town so she could deliver letters to people such as Jenna Wilson, her mother, etc. The last stop they made was at the cemetery, where Ella knew Billy had been buried. Though Steve was annoyed about being her personal chauffeur, he allowed Max a few minutes to go to Billy’s grave and do whatever she needed to do after some convincing from Ella.

A few minutes went by and Max still wasn’t back. Steve had reached his breaking point and finally got out of the car, ignoring both Ella and Lucas’ protests. That ended up being for the best as just a moment later they heard him yelling the girl’s name worriedly. The kids and Ella jumped out of the car to see what was wrong. While Dustin attempted to reach Nancy and Robin with his walkie talkie, Lucas and Ella ran over to the duo.

A horrified gasp left the latter’s lips when she noticed that Max’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head. She dropped to her knees and attempted to shake her awake while she, Steve and Lucas yelled her name. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her, and her boyfriend had to hold her back from shaking her too hard. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Dustin dropped beside them, spilling a walkman and cassettes all over the ground.

“What the hell?” Steve questioned confusedly, but Dustin only shook his head before looking around.

“What’s her favorite song?” He panted out.

“What?” Lucas and Ella exclaimed in unison, panic in both of their voices.

“Robin said if she listens…” he trailed off before shaking his head again, more urgently this time. “It’s too much to explain now! What’s her favorite song?” They all looked through the music selection before Lucas finally picked up “Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush. Ella shakily grabbed the walkman and shoved the cassette into it, pressing play as Dustin shoved the headphones over Max’s ears. For a few minutes nothing happened. The others continued to call Max’s name, desperate to get her out of her trance.

The four of them moved back as Max started lifting into the air as if she were in some sort of theater flying system. Ella, in an attempt to hold her down, grabbed onto her legs. That didn’t deter her though, in fact it only lifted Ella into the air as well. She quickly lost her grip as Max suddenly stopped almost ten feet off the ground, and she found herself falling. Thankfully Steve was there to catch her, but now all the group could do was watch in horror as she continued to levitate and continue to call for her to come back.

Finally, after what felt like hours (though it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes), Max suddenly fell to the ground. All four of them acted as a cushion for her, and she ended up in Lucas’ arms. Her eyes were back to normal, but now tears spilled out of them like an emotional waterfall. Her breathing was erratic as she clutched the Sinclair boy’s arms around her as if she was trying to ground herself. Steve and Dustin backed up to give her space, but Ella moved forward to carefully cradle the girl’s cheeks and wipe away her tears.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she whispered soothingly, which calmed the girl down. One hand lifted from Lucas’ arm to hold Ella’s hand, her grip tight.

“I-I thought we lost you,” Lucas muttered worriedly. Max shook her head slowly.

“I’m still…I’m still here,” she practically whispered, looking around at her friends before her eyes landed on Ella. “I’m still here.”

The rest of the afternoon and that evening was still tense, though there was now an air of relief around the group. Not only did they discover how to help stop someone from being killed by Vecna, but Max had survived her encounter with the creature. The mere thought made Ella giddy. Gone was the thought of what was to come for her. All she was focused on was Max’s comfort after all she’d been through that day. The day’s events weighed heavily on everyone, and all they wanted to do was sleep.

Everyone had gone to their own homes, and since Steve had picked up Ella that morning, he was the one to take her home. The car ride was silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or strained at all. Ella couldn’t tell what her boyfriend was thinking, but based on his knitted eyebrows, she would guess that he was thinking about what happened earlier.

Once he pulled into the driveway and parked the car, she looked at him. This was quite possibly the last time she’d ever see him, and she wanted to make the most of their last moments. Her hand rested over his, which now sat on his lap and his hand turned over to hold hers in response. The gesture made her smile as she forced herself not to cry in front of him.

“I love you Stevie. You know that, right?” The confession was random, but with any luck he would think that she was just telling him after such a difficult day. Steve nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Of course I do. And I love you too, more than anything.” The girl nodded, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I know,” she muttered. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles soothingly.

“You know, you can tell me if something’s bothering you. Or if you don’t want to talk about it, we can just talk about whatever. After today I don’t want anything to come between us or anything like that.” The girl’s smile turned sad, and she nodded.

“I know. I just wanted to remind you that I love you,” she responded simply. Though hesitant, Steve nodded and gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go.

“Go get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow,” he instructed gently. Ella nodded, offering him one more kiss before getting out. She got to her front door and waved until he was out of the driveway before finally walking inside her house. Where she walked into her doom.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x oc

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dramatic-shitpost-poet · 10 months

Text

Chilean Rose tarantula

Enclosure:

Adults can be housed in a 10 gallon or 3x their leg length enclosure comfortably

House them by themselves

Heat can be provided from an under the tank heat mat on one side

Their average temperature must be 70-75 degrees F

Humidity should be about 60%, but don’t mist excessively as it will stress the tarantula out and just dump water into substrate more preferably

A water dish needs to be present with clean water daily (shallow)

UVB is not needed or a day or light cycle

Substrate needs to be a few inches thick as they like to burrow and can be soil, coconut fiber, shredded coconut husks, peat moss mixed in, etc.

Spot clean daily, completely change every 4 months

They need enrichment and hides like hollow logs, fake or live plants, cork bark, or plastic flower pots

Diet/feeding habits:

Their prey must be gut loaded

They can eat dubia roaches, crickets, locusts, mealworms, waxworms, etc.

Juveniles eat every 2-3 days and adults eat once a week

Feed them about 3-5 insects every feeding, remove other insects afterwards

They may refuse food during a molt and don’t feed for 1-2 weeks after a molt

If they don’t see to want to eat you can decrease the food size, then slowly increase in time

Age identification:

Males live about 2-5 years on average

Females can live to 20 years

They both reach maturity at about 2 years old

Physical traits:

They grow to 5-6 inches for leg span and their bodies might be 2-3 inches

Males have smaller bodies, but both sexes have similar leg lengths

They are light brown with some grays, pinks, and reddish brown colors

They do have urticating hairs that might sting

They will naturally molt as they grow and they will become inactive during this time or may look dead, but they will be fine as long as you do not bother them

Females might eat males after breeding or the males die of natural causes

Personality:

Docile

Nocturnal and shy

Don’t like the bite

They are sometimes fussy eaters and go periods without eating, but as long as they look healthy they are fine

Health concerns:

Don’t handle as they are molting as it stresses them out and may cause death

If they go a month without eating, then maybe bring them to a vet to discuss options

Handling:

Don’t handle as they are molting and a bit after a molt because they are sensitive during this time

To hold them, lay your hand out flat to them and let them crawl on or you can also use a small paintbrush to coax them on your hand

Don’t hold them more than a few inches as a fall can result in death

Wash hands before and after handling

Don’t handle or feed them for one week to let them adjust

#chilean rose tarantula #tarantulas #tarantula #dsp care sheet #dsp care sheets #research #entemology #entomology #my care sheets #arachnids

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destinylegendrpg · 2 years

Text

The New Red War, Book: A Moment’s Reflection

2: Learning

It was sunset the next day when they reached the edge of the Wall, having taken their time creeping slowly through back alleys and across rooftops to avoid the Cabal’s notice. Several times they had run into a Cabal procession or a cage filled to the brim with dozens of civilians which slowed their pace to a near crawl. Each time, Cariapthi felt within her the stirrings of guilt as she instructed Emera not to look, that they had to leave and could not help. She knew it was a suicide mission - she wasn’t a Guardian. She had no weapons, no means of fighting back other than the food and supplies they’d managed to scavenge from ruined apartments, and a child whose life would be in even greater danger if she were to die. Still, she couldn’t deny the heaviness of her heart each time they headed away.

“Do you know the way out from here?” Emera asked beside her, her voice a whisper. They both had gotten alarmingly good at keeping their voices low in the last day or so, even when they were sure no one else was around.

“Not exactly,” Cariapthi replied. Then, remembering Emera was a child, she added, “But I’m sure we’ll find something soon. I’ve heard lots of stories of gaps where people sneak in and out.”

The idea of sneaking in and out of the Last City must have seemed ludicrous to Emera because her face screwed up in puzzlement - but then, as Cariapthi had learned just this morning, she was only eight years old. At that age, doing almost anything against her parents’ wishes other than sneaking an extra piece of candy here and there would have been out of the question. Cariapthi for one couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be eight again, to be so small, at the beck and call of adults who say they know best without explaining why, your own autonomy looked down upon whenever you want to speak up for yourself. Although she didn’t remember being a young child much, she did remember being a teenager and experiencing pretty much all the same bullshit, so she had determined pretty quickly that she was not going to treat Emera as anything less than a whole person with her own feelings and wishes.

“Where do you think we should head from here?” Cariapthi asked, looking down at the navy-dark head beside her. “Should we go left along the Wall towards the shanty town or right through the trees? Preference?”

“Well, I don’t really want to go through the trees - they’re pretty scratchy - but…” Emera’s lower lip stuck out in a pout, her bright orange eyes looking up to meet Cariapthi’s own yellow ones. “I think our eyes make too much light. We’d be noticed in the shanty town.”

Cariapthi blinked at her, a bit surprised. “You know, you’re pretty astute for your age.”

Emera puffed up, a clear mix of proud and affronted. “Of course I am! I’m not a little kid anymore.” She pushed her chest out even further, straightening up as she looked back toward the Wall in the far distance with a serious expression, and added, “I’m a big kid now.”

For the second time in as many days since meeting Emera, Cariapthi was stunned into near silence. She turned away, a bit embarrassed, focusing her attention back to their options. She quickly realized that Emera was right, though - if they took the route through the shanty town, there were likely more Cabal. Much of the inner City had already been rounded up, but from the lit fires, the people living in the shanties were probably putting up much more of a fight. They’d have a much easier and quieter time in the woods where Cabal presence would be minimal and therefore less likely to spot four glowing eyes.

Cariapthi turned back toward Emera. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re right. That was unfair of me back there.”

Emera looked at her askance. “What was?”

“That compliment I gave you - er, if you could call it a compliment - well, no, it was a compliment, just an insult too…”

Emera just stared.

“Okay,” Cariapthi tried again, laughing at herself. “I mean, I’m sorry for saying you’re pretty astute for your age. It implied that I think kids your age are dumb until proven otherwise and that isn’t at all what I meant to imply, so I’m sorry. I should have just said you’re pretty astute, which is doubly true since you clearly know what the word astute means too. A lot of adults don’t even know that one.”

This time, when Emera’s shoulders lifted and her chest puffed out, it was only with pride. “Papa is a language teacher! He loves to quiz us on vocabulary.”

“Clearly that quizzing is working out pretty well for you.” Cariapthi reached over, ruffled the girl’s dark hair, and Emera beamed up at her from under her hand, as bright as a solar flare. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll have a better chance of finding your parents outside the City.”

#destiny #destiny the game #destiny 2 #destiny: become legend #lorebooks #A Moment’s Reflection #written by acidmouthed

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pointreyesjournal · 2 years

Text

Purgatory Pancakes : ep125

From San Fransciso, Dangerous Dave chose the winding route to Point Reyes Station, up the coast through Stinson Beach. By the time we reach Olema my hangover is raging. If I don’t have coffee and a hearty breakfast soon, I’m going to die, or worse, barf in my helmet.

I want breakfast.

I need breakfast.

I’m not looking forward to breakfast.

Beri seems really excited about me meeting this girl called April. But in my current condition, I’d rather be crawling down a clam hole and drowning on Limantour Beach, than trying to make a good first impression to a gal who is just trying to make a living during the Friday breakfast service.

The whole situation is fucked.

To make matters worse, I only live two minutes away. I could just as easily ride home, gobble down a PB&J and pass out for a few hours. In fact, I’d prefer to do that! But I don’t want to be difficult.

Beri put in the effort to create the introduction. I’ll honor her by showing up. Plus if she really does look like the St. Pauli girl, maybe I can convince her to wear a dirndl dress once in a while so I can live out that fantasy.

Forget that I just said that, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’ll order a coffee and a pastry and hope that the caffeine and sugar will take the red alcoholic glaze out of my eyes and turn me into a respectable gentleman before she introduces us.

Entrez-vous

At the cafe, The Dour Hostess greets us.

Dangerous Dave: Good morning. Table for two. In Beri’s section please.

The Dour Hostess gathers up two menus, and looks around for a table. I can tell that she desperately wants to advise us that choosing a specific waitress isn’t an option, but Beri catches her eye and motions to the hostess which table she wants us to sit at.

The Dour Hostess’s schadenfreude moment is spoiled.

The Dour Hostess: This way gentlemen. I’m afraid Beri doesn’t have any open tables in her section.

Me: But she just …

The Dour Hostess: She just pointed to a table near her section. So I’m sure you’ll be plenty close enough to bother her during the breakfast rush.

Damn! I’m sure this evil hostess’s underwear is filled with tapioca pudding, because she’s completely getting off on stuffing us in some other waitress’s section. Ugh, what a self righteous witch!

The Dour Hostess tells us to “enjoy your breakfast” and then quickly departs from the scene of the crime before we have a second chance to protest.

Dangerous Dave: Well that didn’t go as planned.

Me: No sir, we are high and dry.

Beri gives us a quick update as she dashes past with an armful of breakfast plates.

Beri: Sorry guys, my section is slammed. I’ll stop by and say “hi” if I get a minute.

Dangerous Dave and I are sat across from one another at the little two-top, with no coffee, no water, no silverware, and two menus we don’t need because we already know what we’re ordering. Time seems to grind to a halt as we both wonder what’s going to happen next. Then I see a glint in Dangerous Dave’s eye as someone approaches the table from behind me.

#novel #first person narrative #san francisco #point reyes station #ducati #love #motorcycling

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

Text

HEART'S BLOOD - CHAPTER 21

*Warning: Adult Content*

Julian Hart wakes up feeling very well used.

Alpha Dane Hunter had given him a thorough education the night before, so the beautiful psychic is a little surprised to feel his lover’s erection hitting him in the stomach.

Julian: ‘He’s truly is an animal.’

He is curled around Julian, head is tucked beneath his chin, his arm draped over his side and one of his legs over his hip.

Julian is effectively trapped in Dane’s limbs and he doubt’s he can disentangle himself with out waking him up.

It’s still early and if it wasn’t for Dane’s morning wood stabbing him in his gut, Julian might have gone back to sleep for another hour.

Since that doesn’t seem like an option, he decides to get Dane back for all the noises he made him make last night.

He is embarrassed to remember the amount of whimpering and begging that went on at one point.

Julian: ‘Dane is very talented with his tongue.’

Reaching down, Julian plays with his balls with one hand, while the other slides along his shaft.

He rubs his thumb over Dane’s glands and the handsome detective shifts and moans as he gradually rouses from sleep.

“Hell, Julian,” Dane murmurs.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Hardly anything, compared to what you did to me last night,” Julian replies, gripping him a little harder abound the base of his member.

“How can you still be hard after all that?”

“You make me crazy,” Dane says, sliding a hand down between Julian’s legs, who wasn’t hard before but sure is now.

Dane shifts himself so that both of their members are side by side and he starts to rub his against his lover’s.

Julian’s manhood is an average size but Dane’s is defiantly not.

The young man’s member looks small compared to his but rather than being embarrassed, it turns him on.

There’s just so much of him.

Dane and Julian thrust against each other, their hands joined around them both.

Dane moves down and his mouth finds one of Julian’s small, stiffened nipples and he bites it gently between his teeth.

The sensation takes the beautiful psychic by surprise and he gasps and spills, as the shock of pleasure shoots straight to his balls.

Dane is still hard, his engorged member so stiff it’s almost flat against his stomach.

Julian shifts himself down and grips Dane’s base while he laves his tongue across the head, taking him as deep as he can without choking.

“Ah. Julian,” Dane warns him but he just sucks harder and quickens the pace with of his other hand.

Dane thrusts and arches beneath Julian, who swallows around him as the salty, bitter fluid hits the back of his throat.

“Shit,” Dane swears, broad chest heaving as he slides out of his lover’s mouth and Julian licks his lips.

“That’s one way to wake a man up. Except the best part of the day is already over.”

“Who said that was the best part?” Julian asks, crawling up and collapsing on Dane’s chest.

He runs his hands over his lover’s back, from his shoulders to the base of his spine and back again, seeming to enjoy the feel of Julian’s silky, smooth skin.

“I love you,” Dane tells Julian absently.

“I want to wake up like this every morning until the day I die.”

Julian holds his breath and his heart beats fast and hard in his chest.

He knows that Dane feels it as his hands go still on his back and then he sighs, realizing what he had said to him.

“Julian. It’s okay,” Dane says, pushing Julian up so that he’s sitting over him, looking down.

It’s a different perspective, a different feeling.

Alpha Dane Hunter laid bare and vulnerable, offering Julian his heart, in a few simple words.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I’m just happy to be with you.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Julian says, realizing it.

“I mean, you don’t say that casually, do you?”

“What?”

“That you love someone. Some people say it whether they mean it or not. But you really mean it.”

Dane nods.

“I do.”

“Why?” Julian asks him softly and for some reason he feels like crying. Dane reaches up to touch his lover’s face.

“I don’t know Julian. I’m no philosopher. We could ask my brother, Noah, if you want.”

“What? Why?” Julian squints at Dane in confusion.

Dane shrugs, bare shoulders shifting against the pillows.

“He’s really smart. He teaches English at a college up North.”

Julian laughs.

“You’re so weird,” he says and then smiles.

“You are smart too, Dane.”

Dane shrugs again.

“I’m good at what I do, that’s all.”

Shaking his head, Julian leans down to kiss Dane on the forehead.

He rolls off and gets up.

Julian grabs a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom.

Pausing at the door, he pauses and looks back at the handsome detective sprawled on his bed.

Dane is watching him and suddenly he feels shy which is strange, given that the man is intimately familiar with the entire surface area of his body.

“I can’t say it yet, Dane,” Julian says looking at the bundle of clothes in his hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything for you. I wouldn’t have done what I just did otherwise.”

“I know,” Dane assures him.

“And I don’t need for you to say it, Julian. I can see it in your eyes, taste it on your lips. I feel it in your body when you...”

“Oh My God. Please stop,” Julian begs him, leaning on the door frame and covering his face with his bundle of clothes.

When he lowers it he sees Dane grinning at him.

“See,” he says, flicking his eyes below Julian’s waist.

“Your body speaks loud and clear.”

“It sure does,” Julian says, flipping him off before turning and continuing down the hall.

Dane’s soft breathy laugh follows him and he shivers.

Julian: ‘He’s right anyway.’

Julian’s mind might be struggling to wrap itself around the idea that he could fall so hard so fast but the rest of him is having no such problem.

After breakfast Dane puts on his boots, grabs his jacket and heads for the door.

“Where are you going? Julian asks.

“I thought you had the morning off?”

“I want to speak with George Foley,” Dane says.

“Have him confirm what Ian told us, if he can.”

“Wait,” Julian starts, then bits his lip.

“What? Dane prompts, hand on the doorknob.

“It’s just... Ian said he would be in trouble if the other shifters found out he told me about them. He said they would kill him for it. I don’t know how literally he meant that.”

“How well do you know George Foley?” Dane asks.

“He’s a family friend,” Julian says.

“He and my dad knew each other growing up. My dad was from here, originally. It’s one of the reasons I moved back. George almost had a heart attack the first time he saw me in town,” he smiles, remembering the shock.

“He said I looked so much like my dad. He though I was him at first, somehow back from the dead or come from the past. When he learnt that I was David’s son, he offered me this place. He helped me out a lot that first year, treated me like family.”

“Come with me then,” Dane suggests.

“He might be more open with you.”

Julian nods and getting his shoes and jacket, he follows Dane outside.

The main house is a quarter-mile away, on the other side of a low hill and set just on the edge of the trees beyond another wide meadow.

A rough fence of wooden beams enclose it and George’s two horses graze on the other side.

They saunter over as they walk past and Julian leans over to pet their faces.

Dane stretches out a hand too but they snort and stamp their feet at him, ears twitching nervously. He sighs and drops his hand.

“I really like horses but they always smell wolf,” he says, gazing after them sadly as they go back to grazing. Julian looks away, to hide his smile.

Julian: ‘Dane’s disappointment is adorable.’

At George Foley’s door, Dane gives Julian take the lead and he rings the bell and steps back a pace to wait.

A minute later it opens and George looks out, dressed in jeans and a red flannel shirt.

For a moment he stares at Julian, a look of uncomprehending surprise on his weathered face.

Then he blows out a breath, shakes his head and grins.

“Gosh darn it, Julian. You did it again. I thought for a second there, you were David. But who’s this? I haven’t seen you around before.”

George peers past Julian to Dane and his expression turns guarded and suspicious.

It makes the young psychic wonder how much George can tell about Dane just by looking.

“And this is...

“Detective Dane Hunter.”

Dane steps past Julian and extends his hand. George Foley takes it with apparent reluctance but nods and offers a smile in greeting.

“I suppose you know who I am already...” he says.

“If you are here with Julian. What can I do for you today?”

“What can you tell me about shifters, Mr Foley?” Dane asks, blunt as ever.

By the way George fails to look at all surprised, Dane and Julian gather that he is already aware of Ian’s transgression.

“Probably as you can tell me about wolves, Mr Hunter,” George says keenly.

Maybe if Ian hadn’t told Julian first, he would never have seen it.

George hides it well.

But as he look at him now, Julian can almost see him as a coyote... clever, crafty, scrappy and indomitable.

“Quite a bit then,” Dane says undaunted.

George Foley narrows his eyes at Dane and then looks over at Julian.

“Better come on in then. I’ll confirm what every my idiot son told you. But don’t expect more than that. I’ve got nothing to do with this murder business and neither does my people. I’ll stake my life on that.”

Dane glaces at Julian with an angled brow and the young psychic widened his eyes back at his slightly.

They follow George inside and he leads them to his kitchen table. It’s a rustic oak thing with a pair of sturdy curved benches instead of chairs.

On it is a pitcher of fresh orange juice and George offers them each a glass.

Dane accepts but Julian declines.

“Orange juice doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

Dane wastes no time running through the list of claims Ian made the night before.

George collaborates them all and show them several photo albums and family heirlooms as proof.

Yet the more Julian talks to George, the more he sees why Ian is worried.

A few times he stops mid-sentence and they have to remind him what he was talking about and once he just stared at Julian for about one minute before he seemed to recollect himself.

Finally Dane is satisfied and they rise to leave.

At the door Julian turns to George, intending to reassure him that his family secrets were safe with him, when the young psychic finds his elderly neighbour looking at him with a very strange expression on his face.

“David?” George gasps, face crumbling as he bursts into tears.

George stumbles forward and catches Julian in his arms, hugging him tightly and sobbing against his shoulder.

Dane moves to pull him away but Julian waves him away.

“Oh David. I’m so sorry. I should have stopped them. I would have stopped them. If I’d only known... But I’ve got your boy now, David.”

George steps back and holds Julian by the shoulders.

“I’m keeping him safe for you. And I will too, I swear it... Just like I promised. Just like I... “ George breaks off suddenly and lets go of Julian.

“Oh... I... I’m sorry Julian. For a moment there.. I thought... I though I was somewhere else. Huh? Getting old is a funny thing. Don’t you know it.”

George turns and walks to the table resting his hands on it and leaning forward.

“You boys take care now,” George says over his shoulder.

“I’ll be seeing you around... Julian.”

Unsure what else to do, Dane and Julian say their goodbyes and leave.

As they walk around the side of the house, back towards the meadow, Ian rounds the corner, an axe slung over his shoulder, like some red-bearded American folk hero.

Only it looks like he’s lost the fight.

His lip is split and he is sporting an impressive black eye.

He waves at Dane and Julian and then turns quickly away.

“You think his dad did that to him?” Dane asks, after a moment.

“I don’t know,” Julian answers.

‘I suppose it makes sense, if Ian learnt his violence that way.’

A sigh leaves Julian as he comes to an inescapable conclusion.

There is only one way to get the information that they need.

“I think I’m going to have to do something unpleasant,” Julian says resignedly.

“What?” Dane asks, looking over at him concerned.

Julian sets his jaw, chin forward with determination.

“I’m going to buy a new phone and then I’m going to call my mother.”

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loserchildhotpants · 3 years

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Destiel prompt from Twitter; kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, even though, it’s a lie, and the kiss proves it (from this prompt list)

“I’m just saying that I don’t think you’d get this defensive if there really wasn’t anything between you two -”

“There isn’t, and I’m not getting defensive!” Dean argues, decidedly defensively.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Sam offers with a shrug and a smirk.

Staring down into the open grave the boys are in, Castiel glances between the brothers and tilts his head, wondering if perhaps by a different angle, he may better understand what their expressions mean.

“We’re bonded or whatever - that’s it, man! There’s nothing else going on!”

“I’m not even saying there is anything ‘going on,’ I’m just saying there could be, and if that were something you wanted -”

“I’m not qu -”

“I know, I get it, I hear you, humor me for a second, okay? All I’m saying is just - if there were something between you two, and you wanted there to be something ‘going on,’ where there is currently nothing ‘going on,’ I just think you should, hypothetically go for something rather than settling for the nothing, because, personally, I think there is something there, and you could have a great thing going if that were what you wanted.”

“Even if - which I don’t - I’m not - listen, though, okay? I’m not, and I don’t want that - not that there’s anything wrong with it, or something, just - even if that were the case, Cas isn’t like that. He’s not a being that experiences shit like that -”

“I’m telling you you’re wrong, Dean! The way he stares at you -”

“He stares at everyone!”

“Do I?”

The Winchesters jump in unison, both with hands on their guns faster than should be possible. They both visibly relax again, though, when they realize it’s only Castiel interrupting.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean greets, his voice markedly more gentle than it was with Sam only a moment before.

Castiel appreciates it.

“Hello, Dean.”

With a cheeky grin, Sam clears his throat, and says to Cas, “your timing couldn’t be better, actually, Cas - Dean and I have some questions -”

“No, no, we do not have questions,” Dean growls at Sam, eyes blazing dangerously.

“I am always available to you boys for whatever inquiries I can assist in. Is this pertaining to my staring? It’s academic in nature, I assure you - frankly, I am used to having a form that hosts many more eyes; being in this Earthly form can present obstacles, as my perceptions are more limited than I can remember them ever being. I promise I do not mean to insult anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of it as an insult,” Sam intones; Dean shoves his elbow into Sam’s kidney to shut him up.

“This is you being defensive, by the way,” Sam wheezes, doubled over, but still smirking at Dean, “What’s the big deal if there’s nothing going on?”

Flushed, Dean scowls at Sam, drops his shovel, and tells him, “I’m not being defensive! There’s nothing to be defensive about! And I’ll prove it!”

Clambering out of the grave, Dean brushes the soil from his hands onto his dirtier jeans, and stomps more than walks up to Castiel.

“You’ve a cut,” Cas murmurs worriedly, spotting a knick Dean got on his cheek earlier in the day.

“It’s nothing. Listen, Cas -”

Before Dean can get anymore out, Castiel reaches for his left-side cheek, cups that side of his face, and spreads a cooling sensation that knits the skin back together neatly and cleanly.

“Uh - thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters gruffly as Cas takes his hand back.

“My pleasure, Dean.”

Uncharacteristically nervous, Dean glances down at the ground, his hands shoved in his jean pockets, then his eyes skim the ground until they happen upon Sam’s again, and whatever silent exchange they have works Dean up again.

“Cas,” Dean begins, looking into his eyes with determination, “We’re friends, you ‘n me, right?”

“Yes, Dean. You are my most cherished friend,” Castiel answers.

That gives Dean a moment’s pause where he seems to be searching Castiel’s face for some sign of sarcasm or deceit; there is none to be detected, of course.

“I - thanks, man. Uhm. Now - this is gonna sound like a weird question, but bear with me, ‘cause I’m not about to assume consent or something.”

“Okay,” Castiel says in confusion, tilting his head again.

“I’m tryin’a prove a point here to Sam, and to get it across - just - would you be okay with me kissing you? Like, just this once - I promise I won’t make it weird or anything, but I gotta ask, you know? I know you’re not into physical stuff like -”

“You’d like my permission to kiss?” Castiel intercepts neutrally, “Like people do?”

Something about that is funny - or startling? - to both Sam and Dean, and Castiel can’t tell which or for what reasons.

“Yeah. Just this one time,” Dean repeats.

Though he takes a respectable count of four seconds to seem as though he needs to consider his options, Castiel nods, and replies, “of course, Dean. Of all the favors you’ve asked of me before, I assure this is certainly the most convenient and pleasant of them.”

Sam snorts a laugh, Dean tosses a glare at him, and then settles gentle, if a little nervous, eyes back on Castiel.

“Okay…”

Dean steps closer into Cas’ space, bringing them toe-to-toe and he finds himself staring down; he’d not realized Cas was shorter than him. It’s not by much, not really enough to be remarked upon, even, but it means that Cas winds up looking up at him from under the cover of long, dark lashes, and even in the dark of the night, his eyes shine like twinkling gems.

Swallowing with some difficulty, Dean holds loosely onto the lapels of Cas’ trench coat, and he means to go in chaste, he really does, it’s just that he’s actually struggling to breathe a little, so his lips are just barely parted, and Cas - as far as Dean can tell, Cas takes that as a cue.

Because Cas’ full lips press in, but so does his tongue; before Dean can even secure his footing, Cas makes his loose hold on the lapels go tight, licking up into Dean’s mouth without hesitation or mercy.

Praying his shocked gasp wasn’t audible to Sam, Dean just tries to hold on while Cas turns his head, bites Dean’s heavy bottom lip, and then pushes Dean’s mouth more open with his own, and then he drags his hot tongue against Dean’s, coming in broad, and soft.

Dean hears himself make some kind of noise - he can’t tell what it is, because there’s too much blood rushing in his skull - there’s stubble. Stubble. There is stubble in this equation other than his own, and that’s new, and terrifying, and should be wholly unwelcome, but every synapse in his brain dedicated to pleasure is telling him otherwise.

One wide hand insinuates itself under the hem of Dean’s weathered flannel, calloused fingers pressing into his left hip possessively while the other hand glides over his pec, and shoulder to the back of his neck, pinky finger teasing the sensitive skin just under the back of his cotton collar, and thumb brushing the fine hairs at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean thinks he may be swaying - he’s dizzy.

Cas is dragging him closer, pressing their hips and abdomens together, and Dean’s hands have somehow found better purchase on the front of Cas’ button-down dress shirt than his lapels.

Dean thinks he hears one of the buttons pop off with the strain of his hold, but neither of them seem inclined to do anything about it, so he figures it doesn’t matter; he tries to establish himself as a bit more dominant, thrown off his usual groove by the absolutely sinful way Cas apparently kisses.

To Dean’s simultaneous horror and delight, Cas doesn’t relinquish any control; he won’t be moved, his hands get tighter and hotter where they touch Dean’s skin, he only presses them harder together, and he kisses Dean like he wants to eat him alive.

He kisses Dean like he wants to crawl inside him, like he’s hungry - starved - like kissing is an act of carnage just as much as an act of love, like those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

He’d rather die than admit it to anyone, but Dean’s knees get a little weak, and Cas basically holds up his entire weight by just the grip he’s got on Dean’s waist.

Before he knows it’s happened, Dean’s hard enough to carve stone, and Cas readjusts how they’re slotted against one another to better accommodate Dean’s failing balance, and Cas feels it - he must. Even if he doesn’t feel how hard Dean is against him right away, the guttural moan Dean will deny having made til his dying breath clues him in.

What sounds like hundreds of cherry bombs going off has them stumbling away from each other, and frantically looking about.

The streetlights have exploded. There’s glass everywhere, and based on the echoes of car alarms and distant voices, it’s becoming more and more possible that Cas destroyed the windows and lights of several cars and nearby homes.

Even he and Sam’s flashlights are busted.

In the blanket of darkness that’s settled over the graveyard, Dean can still see clearly, because Cas’ eyes are high beams cutting through the fog of the night.

They’re both panting, Dean’s pretty certain that a resting heart rate isn’t meant to feel like this, and Cas is looking positively feral.

“Jesus fuck!” Sam curses, his arms crossed over his head where he still plucks a shard of glass from his hair.

Reminded of Sam’s presence, Castiel’s head swivels to him, the glow of his eyes dims down, and then he looks back at Dean, visibly frightened.

Dean takes no pleasure in Cas ever being scared, so he reaches out, takes a step back into Cas’ space, but that spooks him more, and in less than a blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Not cool, Cas, Dean thinks loudly, hoping it counts as a prayer that Cas will hear.

Reaching into the front of his jeans, Dean uses the near blackness of the power outage to his advantage, and readjusts himself to the best of his abilities.

It really doesn’t do much.

“Well,” Sam starts pointedly.

Dean, weak at the knees, lips criminally swollen, face flushed, hair mussed and harder than he’s ever been in his life, turns slowly to scowl at Sam.

“That was not nothing.”

Dean doesn’t see a way of winning the argument, so he kicks dirt into Sam’s hair, and leaves him to finish burying.

#destiel #deancas #drabble #kisses #my stuff #some spice tho #just for funsies

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

The Chain Confess While Your Hurt/ Upset Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

This section will include the W Trio! Warrior Wild and Wind!

As per usual Reader in Wind’s scenario is the same age.

Warrior’s cut can be easily taken out of context- (in fact it technically is) but reader discretion is advised for that one. It’s basically, reader strips, teases, is shameless, and Warrior panics.

Nothing bad but you never know.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

“Warrior you can’t be serious.” You bare your teeth in a snarl and place your hands on your hips. “You did not just ask me to strip and crawl down some time forsaken tunnel while you get to wait behind and hope that the others are on their way to help us.”

“Ok, when you put it like that-”

“Why do I have to do it?” You growl. “Why don’t you strip and crawl down there? Why was I your first option?”

“You’re smaller than I am, I don’t think I’ll even fit.” Warrior groans. “It’s not like I’d just ask you-”

“To put on a show or something? Is that what you’re after?” You raise an eyebrow.

Warrior chokes on his own spit at your bluntness and he feels his face flush from it. Admittedly, he wouldn’t be opposed but he’s not going to say any of that out loud. “It’s like not that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh then what ever did you mean, dear Captain? I’m almost tempted to do it just to get a rise out of you.”

Warrior begins to regret ever suggesting this. He’ll die. This will be the way he dies. He knows for a fact that if you do, it’ll get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t on the forefront of his mind when he first mentioned it because the mission is first but he regrets. Oh, he regrets.

But now that it’s out, he can’t take it back.

“I mean, I can try to do it.” Warrior offers to take your place to save his pride. “I can go first. It was my idea.”

“No, no-” You put a hand up to stop him and grip the hem of your shirt with the other. “-It’s not like it was a bad idea. And since the ever gracious Hero of Hyrule volunteered me-”

“Please don’t say it like that. You do not have to do this. Please stop, oh my- For Din’s sake!” Warrior whips his hands over his eyes as you rip your shirt over your head and turns on his heel for good measure. “I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? Put your shirt back on. What if the others on the other side or something? Or monsters? Or spikes!”

“Spikes? Really? Is that the farthest your imagination goes?” He hears you snort.

You have no idea what’s going on in my imagination, Warrior gulps and puts his other hand on his face out of embarrassment. He knows his face is beyond ruby red and he doubts that he’ll ever live this down. If Cia and Lana are watching he’s equally dead. “Have you no shame?”

“Pretty much.” He can hear the shrug in your voice and the way your belt buckle hits the ground.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Warrior whines, forcing himself to not turn around. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this. You. Do not.”

“Too late. Shirt is off. Pants are off. Shoes are off. Hair is up.” You start going down the list. “Sword... is going to have to stay behind.”

At least at that he hears you hesitate.

“Please take a weapon.” He nearly begs. “Please take a weapon with you through the tunnel.”

You don’t respond for a second and he peeks a little beyond his fingers. He doesn’t turn around, as much as he wants to look you in the eye for this and settles for staring at his shoes.

“I’ll take my carving knife.” He hear you say and he can hear you shuffle against the stone floor.

“Not a bow or maybe something a bit more sharp?” Warrior offers.

“I’m going in.”

“I’m so sorry.” Warrior takes a breath. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Quit being a baby. I’ll be right back. Watch my clothes.”

“I’ll watch over them with my life.”

“Good. See you on the flip side.”

He waits in the time it takes for you to shimmy through the tunnel until only your feet are showing before he makes his way over to your clothes and picks them up. The tunnel is dark and long and he’s not sure what to do in the mean time you’re gone.

He sits down in front of the tunnel and begins folding your clothes.

“WARRIOR!!” You shout down the tunnel in a panic. “This is bad! FIRE! LOTS OF IT!”

He gets to his knees at the information once it reaches him.

“I’m coming back and praying it doesn’t come my way!”

“Be careful!” He shouts and knows that he can’t really do anything to help.

“OH GOD SOMETHING EXPLODED!” You shout and he can barley see you through the light that’s beginning to shine through.

There’s a panic in his chest and he shoots to his feet to stand by the tunnel’s entrance.

“Fire! There is fire! I am on fire!” You scream.

The second your hand comes even close to the entrance, Warrior gets on his knees again and pulls you through the tunnel.

He’s not so concerned about the way your pulled out of the tunnel or how you scrape against the stone.

You do have some burns that he’s concerned about and he’s quick to rip his scarf off and place it around you, covering you and snuffing out the flames that have appeared around you.

“I don’t know what happened.” You say and wince as he pats the flames out. “One minute everything’s fine and the next there’s fire and something explodes and I’m crawling all the way through that nasty tunnel again with flames up my-”

“Ok, ok, hold on, I think I have an extra potion.” Warrior pulls his scarf up to your neck and wraps it around you like a blanket.

“Everything hurts!” You cry and slowly go to lay down on the stone, it’s cool against your burns and you sigh.

“Here.” Warrior takes out the potion from his pack and uncorks it, giving it to you gently as he sits beside you.

“At least I’m not alone.” You sip it from the side and let the magic do its job.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“No, it was just your idea. You didn’t make me go through there.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“I’m not even that hurt, calm down.”

“I didn’t even go after you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t fit.”

“I could have tried.”

“Well at least it’s only me and not the both of us. Time would probably have both of our heads if we were both stupid.” You snort and sit up again, the relief instantaneous on your wounds.

“I wish it was me instead.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Why? What is wrong with you?” You scrunch your face, the idea of getting hurt for the sake of getting hurt is unfathomable to you.

“I love you. Do I need a reason?” Warrior sighs and runs his hand through his hair before stopping half way with bulging eyes and a panicked face.

You also stop drinking the potion, letting a small drop fall from your lips and down your chin.

“Warrior.”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t just say that.”

“Link.”

“We don’t have to speak about this ever again. Or ever speak again. To each other. If you want. I’m going to die now. Ok. Bye.” Warrior stands up suddenly and begins to walk away from you.

“You better not die on me!” You growl and pull his scarf tighter around yourself, fighting through the swamped fabric to get to your feet as well. “I’ll kill you if you die. Don’t leave me here alone. I’ll kill you if you leave me here.”

“I’m going to find-”

“My clothes.” You cut him off. “Where are my clothes? Find those.”

“Ok. Ok. Yeah, of course, right- you’re still- Ok.” He paces around a bit before turning on his heel in a circle, finding your clothes somewhere off in the corner where he left them. He’s quick to make his way over to them and pick them up.

He clears his throat when he drops them at your feet and turns his back to you. “Any other idea where to go from here? Or how to get to the others?”

“Link.” You call his name again.

Warrior gulps and puts his hands over his face, his whole body tensing up. He nearly jumps in his skin when he feels your hand on his shoulder and your lips on the shell on his ear. He’s shaking.

Hylia help him. You make him weak.

“I love you too.” He feels you grin and he doesn’t even try to stop the shudder that rips through his body.

You give him a tiny kiss on his ear and he borderline whimpers from the contact.

“Oh this’ll be fun.” You giggle and Warrior bites his lip at the tone of your voice.

“Go easy on me?”

“Not a chance, soldier boy.” You laugh.

Warrior almost regrets this.

Almost.

Wild

Wild wasn’t sure what he was seeing or experiencing. There was colors and feelings and voices that he knew he was supposed to know... but when he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why any of that would be familiar. Nothing made sense and he couldn’t even remember what his dream was about.

He tried not to be upset by it.

Every time this happened it he knew he was dreaming about his past- but any recollection of it seemed to slip through his fingers. Always so close and yet so far.

He rubbed his eyes of the not shed tears and looked around the camp.

Time and Twilight were still sleeping- so at least they won’t have to know that it happened again. Legend and Hyrule were once again asleep next to each other with Sky sprawled full eagle next to them. Wind and Warriors were next to each other, sleeping back to back and sharing his scarf like a blanket. Four was on watch and when he noticed that Wild was awake, he nodded with a small smile and went back to looking into the fire- which really meant he went back into his thoughts.

You on the other hand, were sleeping alone, curled up on yourself and clutching your blanket tightly with both of your hands.

You looked like you were in pain.

Wild felt his heart call out to you, as it usually does and watched you for a moment, trying to see if there would be reasonable cause for him to intervene.

You could be in real pain and just asleep but he wouldn’t be able to help with that. Or you could be trapped in a nightmare and he would gladly wake you up- but you weren’t showing any signs of the latter.

Wild hums and shimmies back down into his bed roll, readying himself to attempt to go back to sleep.

He’ll make you something special in the morning. Hopefully that help balance out the upset night you’re both having.

Suddenly there’s a gasp and Wild twists over to look in the direction it came from.

After waiting a few seconds, you sit up and rub your eyes, smacking your face a little as you look around the group. Your movements are a little frantic as you look around, your eyes land on Four for a split second and wave to him before hopping around and twisting to come face to face with him.

Wild freezes, not expecting you to look as shaken as you do.

There’s a whole wave of unshed tears in your eyes but you seem to relax slightly at the sight of him.

Wild doesn’t know what to feel about that.

You gulp down what sounds like a desperate breath and blink, sending the tears down your face. “Wild-” You croak. “-Are you ok?”

Him?

You’re asking him if he’s ok?

“Yeah- I’m-” He clears his throat to not sound so groggy. “I’m ok.”

“Anything hurt?”

“No.” He tilts his head. What an odd question. “I just woke up from a memory is all.”

Maybe you’re asking him why he’s also awake.

“Oh. Good.” You nod and rub your eyes again. But then you panic. “I mean- Not good good! But like.... I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You stand suddenly and rub your arms frantically to fight the mild chill in the air.

“I’ll be right back.”

Wild doesn’t even get the chance to ask you’re ok as well. You nod once again to Four, who’s now paying a little more attention to his surroundings, and leave the camp entirely.

Wild stands up as soon as you’re out of sight and kicks away the blanket from his feet, making his way after you as quietly as he can manage.

Four looks in his direction and raises an eyebrow, not saying anything.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” Wild hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Four to hear him. “I’m just gonna check on them.”

“Hurry back.” Four replies. “I gotta wake the Old Man soon and I don’t want to explain why two people, one of which is you, are missing.”

Wild nods and picks up his pace.

He prays you didn’t go far. The night in this forest seems to be particularly dark, and it’s hard for him to see what’s in from of him. If you went too far ahead, he’d have no way of getting to you.

Luckily, he steps a twig which tips your hand. He sees the movement in front of him, of the shadows jumps to look behind.

“It’s me.” He says in a little more normal voice. “It’s ok. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh...” He hears you say. There’s a slight wobble in your voice. “Did you need something?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you right now.” Wild makes his way closer, pushing a branch away from his face and stepping into your personal space. “It’s a bit late for an evening stroll. It’s even more dangerous to go without telling anyone where you’re going.”

You chuckle but it’s half hearted. “I know, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It’s just... Nightmare and all that. I just wanted to walk it off.”

Wild bites his lip and tries to not audibly hiss. “Do...” Would you trust him like this? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“With you?”

Ouch.

“I mean, I’m offering.” He shrugs and smiles, even if he doubts you’ll see it.

“No...” You say after a long pause. “It’s.... I mean, not with...not with you. I’m sorry. It’s really personal.”

Wild takes a breath through his nose and ignores the hurt. “Well, I’m here if you need me. But Four’s also awake, if you want to go and talk to him instead. I mean, if you want to talk about it at all... I can stay here... and wait... until you’re done... Maybe try to fall asleep elsewhere.”

“No.” You whine and Wild has a split second thought that you might be crying. “Don’t- don’t leave me. Please. I think I... I think I just need to see you or hear you... What did- Why are you up? ...Again. You said it was a memory?”

“I don’t really remember.” Wild reaches forward and places his hand on your shoulder, followed quickly by his other one. He really wishes he can see your face. “I feel like I should but I don’t. It’s happening more often now than before and I don’t know what to think of it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs moving his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. In the process of doing that, the back of his fingers run across your cheek and he notes that it’s wet.

You are crying.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He tries again, heart aching in tandem with your pain, even if he doesn’t know what caused it.

“Wild-”

“It doesn’t have to be with me, just-”

“But I want to talk with you. Just not about that.”

“But you shouldn't hold it in. Talk to me, please. How can I help?”

“Wild, not with you-”

“Why not with me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you because it’s about you!” Your voice cracks and he can feel your hands fly to your face to cover it.

Wild can admit that he was being a little pushy towards the end there but your words strike him physically. He can feel his heart speed up at the thought and he’s quick to gulp down a breath. A nightmare? With him?

“Did I hurt you?” He asks in a whisper, leaning closer but loosening his grip on your shoulders.

He doesn’t know what hurts more.

The thought of him hurting you or the thought that you think he’s capable and willing to hurt you.

Does he scare you?

Do you actually hate him?

How does he fix this?

“No...” You finally answer him and step into his arms, placing your face (hands still there) into the crook of his neck. “You got hurt.”

Oh.

“You got hurt bad.”

Oh.

“They hurt you so bad, Link.” You break into a sob and wrap your arms around his neck. “There was so much blood- and- and- I couldn’t do anything. And you weren’t moving. And I tried calling out to you but you weren’t answering me and- and they were gonna take you away and kill you and I couldn’t- You couldn’t even fight back-”

He doesn’t even think to ask you who’s this ‘they’ you speak of. Wild tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your hair. “Shhh... It’s ok. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m ok.”

That explains why you were so shaken, why you asked him those questions, why he’s beginning to understand where you’re coming from by not wanting to tell him this...

“I know.” You whine and press yourself tighter. You focus on his heartbeat and try to convince your adrenaline filled brain that the boy in front of you if alive and unharmed and safe.

Wild reach up and tangles his fingers into your hair. He starts petting you, letting you cry into his shoulder without once letting go.

“I’ll be ok.” He tells you. “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

You nod and move your hands from your face, wrapping them around his chest. Wild smiles somewhat despite himself and nuzzles you with the side of his head.

“I know you can’t actually promise that.” You mumble and take a deep breath, calming yourself little by little. “I appreciate the thought though.”

“I love you too much to not keep it.”

“You love me?”

Wild freezes and nervously laughs. “Did I say that?”

“That’s what I heard.” You sniffle and lean away from him. “Is that what you said?”

Wild can see what little moonlight is left to look you in the eye and he swallows. “Yes.”

“Do you mean it?”

“...Yes.”

Wild’s heart is pounding now and he’s trying to calm down to hear beyond the blood in his ears.

He sees you smile and you go back to leaning against him, your nose just barely brushing up against his neck. “I love you too. Stay with me?”

“Yes...” Wild holds you tight again and gulps. “Yes. I will. As long as you’ll have me.”

Four for his part, had woken up Time ages ago, not wanting to put up with whatever mess you two would have found yourselves in. Time had followed in the direction Four had pointed him in and had found both of you there, arms around each other and asleep against a tree just beyond the camp.

Time sighs and is tempted to leave you there but his conscious won’t let him.

Wild is embarrassed to be caught but you’re too sleepy to consider why you’re awake again.

You hold Wild closer in your half consciousness and he’s forced to carry you back to the camp under Time’s judgmental and knowing stare.

Wind

“Ha ha haha ha!” You cheer and wave the key in front of Wind’s face. “I got the keeyy~!”

“I see that.” Wind pouts slightly and crosses his arms. “And I would have gotten it too if you weren’t faster than me.”

“But I got it! I win!” You skip and go to open up the locked door on the other side of the room.

“We’re not done yet.” Wind reminds you and there’s a new thing in the other room that he haven’t seen before.

There’s a pedestal in the middle with an open book and multiple candles in a circle around it. The air is strangely sweet and warm and it would lull you to sleep if you were allow yourself to relax.

“This is nice for a change.” You comment. “Smells way better than-”

“Than the past three dungeons in total.” Wind interrupts.

You pause and look at him, shrugging. “I mean...I was gonna say ‘our group’ but you’re not wrong.”

“Our group? What’s wrong with our group?” Wind asks you with a tilt to his head. Do they smell? Is he smelly? Do you think he’s smelly?

“You’re all gross and smell bad.” You say with a scrunched up nose. Wind would think it was cute if it wasn’t for your words.

“I don’t smell that bad.” Wind argues. “I don’t smell at all actually.”

“You’re all smelly.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“All teenage boys smell bad!”

“Ok fine! Who’s the worst?” Wind finds himself asking, if only so he doesn’t fight with you. “Who smells so bad that you can’t even stand to be near them?”

This causes you to pause for real this time and he stops next to you to let you think before you both go any further.

“You do.”

“What?”

“Kidding!” You smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “Since he’s not here, I’d have to say Sky, next is Twilight but he has a good routine of keeping clean so it’s not as bad.”

This confuses Wind slightly and he steps further into the room to investigate as he talks. “Sky? I thought you’d say Wild or Hyrule. I’m not surprised about Twilight being that high on your list. He always smells like some kind of animal.”

“I think it’s that pelt of his.” You admit. “Sky just smells strong. It’s not bad or anything but he always somehow smells like a cucco and I can’t unsmell it no matter how hard I try.”

“Ok. But why not Wild or Hyrule? They can smell pretty funky too.”

“Wild jumps into too many rivers for it to count and I think there’s something about Hyrule’s magic and his friendship with fairies that keep him from smelling too bad.” You walk up to the pedestal and get on your tip toes to look at the book. “He tends to just smell like sugar water and lemon drops.”

Wind gulps a bit as he tears himself away from staring at you when you bend over and tries to find any hidden latches on the walls or any floor tiles that seem out of place.

Nothing.

“What about me though?” He says to fill the silence. “Where do I fall on your list of smells?”

“You smell like sea salt and river water after it’s rained.” You try to latch your foot onto one of the carving and hoist yourself higher. “It’s not bad and it’s not too strong either... so like maybe an eight of ten.”

“Out of the ten of us?”

“Oh, I meant like on a scale how good verses how bad it is. Compared to the ten of us, you’re like number three. Four actually smells the cleanest with Warrior right after him, then you.” You push yourself up and try to find purchase with your other foot, not paying attention to how the flame on the candles grow.

“Four? The blacksmith?” Wind gives up on his search and turns around to see your perilous position. “Hey get down! You might hurt yourself!”

Wind doesn’t notice the flames either, but you’re tipping the pedestal at an unsafe angle.

He doesn’t want to come off as over protective and make you feel like you can’t protect yourself, knowing what that feels like, but the idea of you going face first into the floor has him incredibly nervous.

He dashes up to you and pushes it back into place.

“Oh.” You perk up and grin up at him. “Thanks. Come see what’s in this book. I don’t know what it says but it looks important.”

Wind frowns a little and lets go. The pedestal stays standing as it should and he’s a little less nervous about you falling. He comes around to your side and you hop off to make room for him. As he tries to copy your movements to get up onto it, his hand brushes your shoulder and your hair.

Startled by the unexpected proximity, you take a step back and knock over one of the candles.

“Good job.” Wind says automatically at the sound.

“Thanks Link.” You stick your tongue out and go to pick it up. “I can feel your love and support for miles.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well do you have any idea of what to do next because I sure don’t.” You look away and suddenly notice the size of the flames. They keep growing bigger and bigger and you latch onto the back of Wind’s shirt to pull him away. “Something’s happening.”

On cue, the flames grow large enough to touch and you can begin to feel your eyes begin to close.

Wind takes out his boomerang to fight the ever growing flames and he tosses it in hopes of extinguishing it but there’s no such luck to be found. What’s worse, you fall on top of him and he’s forced to catch you as you fall unconscious.

A deep laughter resonate around the room and the flames grow upward and sideways, parting to crate two arm like figures and two beady eyes with a mouth in the middle.

“A life force is always sweetest when young.” It laughs again and tries to reach for you. Wind brings out his deku leaf and blasts the flame away from touching you, standing over your body in an effort to protect you.

“What did you do!?” Wind finds himself asking the creature. It’s in anger more than it is to learn what’s happened but the creature responds to it regardless.

“Those who read my book, are under my spell and those who are under my spell, become mine to consume. The young always have a bit of fat in them still... makes them all the more delicate a treat. You’d join your friend in the same way had you read my book for longer, but I suppose this works either way.”

Wind begins to panic and he doesn’t think his deku leaf will be enough to fight the flame, nor will his sword do any damage. There’s not enough time to reach for a different weapon and there’s no way he can run past the flames without being hurt. Maybe he would survive if it was just him, but he’s not going to leave you behind.

Not now, not ever.

Wind gets up on his feet and take a deep breath. It’s thick and laced with enough smoke to make him cough but he stands tall and firm.

He needs to buy time.

Enough time that he can think of a plan and execute it without hurting you in the crossfire.

The creature closes in on the two of you and Wind is pressed by the lack of options.

Suddenly, Wind spots Wild through the gaps of the eyes and mouth on the other side of the room. Wild stands there shocked and confused but shoots the pedestal with the most apathetic ice arrow he can manage.

The flame dies instantly and the creature is cut off with a horrible ear piercing screech.

Wind covers his ears from the sounds as it dies out and misses Wild call his name in concern when he’s noticed. Instead, when the noise is gone, he turns on his heel and crouches over you. He shakes your shoulder violently and begins to whine in concern when he doesn’t get an answer.

Wild jogs up next to him and places a hand on Wind’s shoulder. Wind turns to the older hero before he can even speak and yells. “Where’s Legend or Hyrule or someone who’s good with magic? That thing put them to sleep with a spell in that stupid book and they’re not waking up!”

“What happened to you two?!” Wild replies as he dashes toward the ice brick that he’s formed.

“Don’t look at the pages! Don’t try to read it! I think it makes him stronger.” Wind cries out as he rolls you on your side.

“What even was that thing?” Wild dashes back to Wind’s side with the book under his arm.

“I don’t know but it wanted to eat them.” Wind can feel the panic tear into his heart and soul at your unknown fate and he hates that he doesn’t know what to do. “Wild help!”

“Ok. Ok. Here, let’s get them out of here first and we can go get help the others.” Wild stuffs the book in his slate and reaches over to pick you up, trying to be gentle in case you have any injuries that he can’t see.

Wind takes out his sword and takes the lead, making sure nothing else from the room surprise attacks them and that there’s nothing in front of them that will also attack.

“What if they don’t get better?” Wind looks back at Wild and finishes with looking at your face. He’s briefly reminded of that time Tetra was turned into stone and how there wasn’t much he could do to help her. The difference here is that you’re still flesh and blood and you look peaceful despite the circumstance of your sleep.

“They will.” Something catches Wild’s attention in the distance and he goes to place you on the ground. “I think I see Time. Stay with them, watch over them. I’ll be back.”

“Ok.” Wind takes a step to let him pass and waits for a second before sitting next to you. He reaches over and runs his finger through your hair, brushing it gently from your face.

He turns away then and sighs, settling his hands on his knees. “I hope you wake up. I need to be able to tell you that I like you.”

There’s no response- as he expected and it’s tears at his heart a little.

“I just figured this out for myself and I don’t know if there’s a way for the two of us to be together after all of this. But I don’t know if I want to live with the what if if I don’t say anything.”

“Say what?”

“I like you, a lot and there’s a lot of- wait.” Wind jolts up and shifts his eyes to look in your direction.

You’re looking at him with what he would describe as a dreamy look, sleep still holding onto you and rims of your eyes but you’re smiling and happy and soft-

“You’re ok!” Wind cries and pushes his sword out of the way, jumping into your arms and resting his head against yours. “I was worried.”

“I’m ok.”

Wind grins at your sleepy voice and it makes him giggle. Only for the other shoe to drop and he shoots his head up to look you in the eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Try everything.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s ok. I like you too.” You giggle and try to sit up, brushing your hair back again and poking him in the nose. “You smell like smoke now.”

“Is it bad?” He blinks and pulls at his tunic to sniff himself.

Yes, he does smell like smoke but he can still faintly smell the salt you mentioned earlier.

“No.” You smile and crawl into his personal space, using his lap as a pillow. “It’s warm.”

Wind’s breath stutters a little and he gulps, hesitantly putting his hand in your hair to run his fingers through it.

He looks back up just in time to see Wild and Time return with knowing smiles on their faces. He flushes deeply, but lets you go back to sleep peacefully, no longer afraid of any what if’s.

You’re warm in his lap and he smiles.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Intimacy and Vulnerability In A Different Form

Request: Can I please request for some angst with Shigaraki, Hawks and Dabi. Their S/O acts like she enjoy choking but she feels like it’s what she deserve (basically triggering some suicidal/depressive thoughts) so they’ve always thought she liked it until one particularly rough session she started breaking down and begging them to kill her and they found out about her depression. Sorry if this is against the rules, I’m not sure what you don’t write for. But kinda need this in my life rn. Angst+Fluff and aftercare please!!!

Warning: self-harm mentions, suicidal thoughts

A/N: I hope you like it!! Take care of yourself and remember to do the best that you can to take care of yourself and if you can, take your meds!!

Dabi:

His hands are heavy around your neck, a pressure that makes it harder to breathe and even harder to think anything coherent. His lips are bitter, the taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue and his smile presses itself against you in soft kisses. Dabi hovers above you, and as pleasurable as this all should be- the attention that he gives to you and the words that usually makes your body tremble- it’s only making you sick. The pressure tightens and all that can flash through your mind is the horrible mistakes of your past, every wound left open and salt poured on it as his words reach your ears. You aren’t sure what makes this night different compared to the others but your own hands are placed above his, your eyes squeezed tight as you press your hands down on his.

At first, he thinks nothing of it, believing it to just be you simply telling him that you want more pressure but as you continue, your face burns. Tears tracing down and marking you, your moans jumbled out and sounding so pitiful that he stops immediately. Your lips move, words slurred and are told out of order and he knows that something is wrong. You mumble something about wanting to die, and he pulls his hand away from your neck and your own hands that replace where his hand used to be. Your hands curl around your neck, scratching and pulling taut at your skin and you’re left sobbing as he stares down at you. His hands are soft, curving around your wrist and holding them together, watching as you rest against his bare chest, your tears slipping down his skin and burning against his scars.

He isn’t sure what to do. He’s unable to figure out if he should outright ask you what’s wrong but between your sobs and mess of words, he figures that that isn’t wise. The only thing that he can do is hold you close, let his hands rise in heat and rub them against your back, hoping that the motion will soothe you. He has you against him, crying and he knows- or at least has gathered enough information- to decide that you do indeed want to die. You lay against him, crying and letting your emotions get the best of you and he is unable to do what he should do, but yet, he stares at you, looking around the room hoping that the answer will be written on the walls. But, it's just him and you and a wall with chipping paint. There’s no answer to this and he isn’t good at playing therapist, and the most he can offer is a simple question of “are you okay?” even if it’s obvious that you aren’t.

While he isn’t good at sorting things out and giving advice, he is good at listening, taking things to heart and paying attention to the small details. He listens to you talk about how you have your own bad habits- you hand threads with his when you say that- and that sometimes you wish that something or someone would end your life so you didn’t have to do the dirty work. He knows enough about that to nod his head and hold your hand tighter. Your lips brush over the swell in his chest and you rest on his lap, your body shaking with the aftershocks of your sobbing, and your face still wet with tears. He listens well when you talk, nodding his head and squeezing your hand to show that he is still listening to you and his lips press against your head.

The last thing that Dabi wants is to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to see him as something that can only bring pain and destruction; he wants you to view him as a person. He tells you in a whisper that anything rough is out of the question, he doesn't want this to happen again. He tells you that he’ll be with you because he wants to be and that you two can still remain intimate but he won’t hurt you, he doesn’t want to be the reason that you cry. His hands are gentle as they move you away from him, his hand holding your jaw and his eyes linger to when a tear touches his thumb. He kisses the tip of your nose, his smile lazy and he offers a shower- just something to get rid of all the tears and sweat. It isn’t a permanent solution, but it’s the best that he can offer and he’ll stay true to his word, not wanting to go against our trust and safety. There’ll be another conversation about your mental health, but only when you’re more coherent and less in a negative state.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s already a dangerous situation to place yourself in with Tomura- his hands around your neck, his focus already diverting to pleasure rather than focusing on you. It’s times like these that he regrets not remembering where he placed the half gloves. His entire being is centered around death, his hands clawed and already so close to closing, the air becoming thin and harder to catch and you’re left with burning tears in your eyes. Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss, straining your neck and making his hands close tighter around your neck. A part of you wants for it to hurt more, for his hands to close around your neck and squeeze until your lips are cold and he’s over your body. You call out in a croaky voice for him to tighten his grip, placing your hands over his and begging for his to close his fist. It’s getting harder to breathe and your vision is dotted in black, tears fall and catch on his hands and your moans have turned to cries. His hand loosens around your neck, his movements stopped and he carefully removes his hand away from you.

The air is tense in the room. Your cries echoing around and he stares down at your body as it closes around itself, your arms hugging your crying form. He carefully crawls beside you, clenching his teeth when the bed creaks under him, his body careful to not touch yours. Beside you, he sits, his back propped by pillows and his lips bitten as he calls your name. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping for in a response- he knows that the answer he wants is unrealistic given your state and he isn’t sure whether he can touch you or if that would lead you to spiral down. His hands catch at a piece of your hair, rubbing the ends between his thumb and index finger. He calls you once more, nudging his leg against your body, hoping that you’ll at least give him a sort of reply.

You give an odd sort of sound- something stuck between a cry and a hiccup- but he takes it. He leans over you, brushing away the stray hair and tears, grabbing at a shirt and cleaning your face with it. You hold his hands with yours, your palm over the back of his hand, the cloth pressed against your face, the warmth of his palms warming at your cheeks. He turns over to lie beside you, his chest against your back and his lips pressed over a bruising spot on your neck. You both lay in silence for a long moment, his hands sliding down until they curve around your stomach, his nose pressed against the back of your head as your cries turn into whimpers. He whispers words of comfort- telling you that it’s okay, that he’s stopped, and letting you just cry as his hands circle around your abdomen.

He asks you what happened, his lips pressed against your neck, his hands still and his words are solemn. He doesn’t know what set it off and he isn’t aware of what he should say and a part of him thinks that it’s his fault. He asks if it was his fault- that maybe he triggered something or something else that he doesn’t know what happened. Your confession about your state of mind makes his body go pale, a shiver running down his spine and his hands curl around your stomach. You make it a point of telling him it wasn't his fault- he hadn’t known, it was something that you kept as a secret. Your hands hold his, your face dry with tear stains still lingering against your face. After the sudden outburst, your tone grows drowsy, eyelids heavy and breaths deeper. He can sense that you’re growing tired, that the outburst took a lot of energy and he moves to grab at a blanket, letting it rest against your waist until you’re ready to move it closer to your body.

During the entirety of your relationship, Tomura has always put your wellbeing as a priority; he wants to know that you’re safe and healthy and when you confess about your issues, about how your mind works against you, he asks you to turn around. He holds you close, allowing you the option to look at him or hide your face, and he speaks slowly. He isn’t going to be the one that brings out painful memories, he’s going to be here for you. Perhaps, he won’t be the best at it, but he’ll do what he can, he’ll offer to listen and to talk, he’ll offer you snacks and hold you when you need to be held. He’ll try and that’s the best he can offer. For now, you’ll rest against him, your body covered by a blanket as he keeps you close, letting his arms wrap tight around you.

Takami Keigo:

A caring lover, Keigo takes great pride in giving in to your needs, wanting you to feel heard and seen during acts of intimacy. If you want his hands around your neck, then he’s willing to do it for you. His face will be pinched, a string of curses hissed under his breath as his hand tightens around your neck. You’re under him, a cloud of negative thoughts forming into a storm, your stomach twisting and churning with every move, your eyes closed tightly and yet, the pressure against your chest isn’t enough, the way that he has his hand wrapped around your throat simply isn’t enough.

It’s a simple bad day turned worse with sex. Despite the act of intimacy and the enjoyment that you derive from it, your thoughts scream loud, drowning out anything and you’re simply just tired. You beg him with a choking voice to tighten his grasp and he does, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, pulling away with a crooked grin. He doesn't realize what you want- that it isn’t tight enough for you, that you’re pleading for more and that you want him to close the gap until you’re heaving and gasping for air. You beg for it to be tighter and the most that he offers is a squeeze around your throat before he loosens. His hand pulls away as you start to cry, his face falling into a frown as your words are slurred between each cry, your hands covering your face, taking deep breaths with a bitterness that lingers on your tongue.

He ground you, grabbing your hands and lifting you up, his wings pushed back in an attempt to make you feel less crowded. You’re crying, your body trembling and chest shaking with every breath, as he tries to calm you down, asking you to mimic his breaths and tell him the colors on the bed sheet. He’s desperate, fear thick on his words and his hands wanting to hold you but he refrains. His voice is steady as can be, hesitation on the end of his words but nothing like yours that trembles and breaks with every sentence. He’s a hero, he knows what to do, how to calm those who are almost seen as being uncontrollable. He gets your breathing back to normal, holds your knees and has you play with his hand, the lines and calluses traced and touched under your jittery hand.. He lets you catch your breath, your body shaking and tears slowing down into heavy drops.

You open your arms, hands curling close in an attempt to ask him to come closer. He follows, wrapping his arms around you, and bringing you close to him. Careful as ever, he makes sure his wings are extended, careful to not wrap them around you nor him, wanting you to have as much space to breathe. Your hands roam around back, clinging to his shoulder blades, the tips of his feathers teased with your fingertips. His voice is calm, letting you start the conversation or choosing to save it for later and focusing on you right now. You move him and he is putty in your hands, molding into whatever you need him to be, leaning against the headboard and holding you close, feathers twitching restlessly as you lean on his chest. His hands circle back around you, his chin on the top of your head as you start to speak. He lets you take your time when your voice starts to crack, his presence nothing but soothing.

It’s difficult to listen to you talk so negatively about yourself and to know that the rougher stuff introduced during acts of intimacy were more of a punishment rather than something for pleasure. Keigo is patient in listening to you, holding you close to him and kissing your knuckles as you talk and go further in detail. He won’t push you to do things that are outside of your comfort zone and would prefer for you to take your own pace and come into realizations for yourself. He’s your partner and he’ll help you as much as he can, but he isn’t good at taking care of himself and can often find him going further than what’s good for you. He talks to you and runs his hand down your spine, moving around until you’re side by side, his smile almost pained. It’s a minute before he rises, holding you close to him and leading you to the bathroom, turning the water on and letting you stand under it, his hands covered in white fluff as suds cover your body, his body close to yours.

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