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kurogxrix · 1 year

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All Of My Love ( IV. )

(Series Masterlist)

Neteyam x Avatar!reader

IN WHICH Neteyam’s mother and clan disapproves of your relationship, because you’re a dreamwalker. When you both advance in your relationship, the clan cannot help but attempt to ruin things for the both of you.

WC: 7.2k

Warnings: unrequited love, heartache, breakups, ANGST, this will not end up as a human!reader x Neteyam dw 😟

“Let go of me, you scum!” the said man yelled, thrashing in the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son’s grip. Neteyam was holding the boy tightly by the back of his neck, applying painful pressure with the side of his fingers. The boy’s disrespectful words didn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he would be dealt with soon.

“Tell them what she told me,” Neteyam urged the man as he released him from his deathly grip. They now stood before Jake and Neytiri as they looked at both men with peculiar looks. Neteyam pushed the boy forward once he realised that he wasn’t about to talk, and the boy stumbled on his feet.

“Tell them what you did to my sister!” Neteyam growled. He sounded so much like his mother when he was furious that it was terrifying. “Tell them where you brought her.”

Neytiri’s gaze darkened at the mention of her youngest daughter, and by the sound of it, it was not about to be happy news. The boy cowards under the fierceful Sully gazes, almost making him weak in the knees.

When you had broken the news of what had really happened to Tuk on that day, he was quick to race off. He would pardon himself later on for his sudden resignation, but he knew that you’d understand. Maybe.

The man was taken by such fear that his sound box had seemed to fail on him, rendering him as an idiot to the sully’s gaze. He opened his mouth as no words came out of it, like a fish out of water. Neteyam had gotten sick of the waiting after a while, grabbing the boy by the back of his necklace as he pulled him back closer to him.

“He was the one that had brought Tuk outside of the village, and he abandoned her there!” At the revelation, Neytiri couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her throat. Oh she was sure that she was going to murder the boy if it wasn’t for her children being here.

She lunged forward, grabbing the boy by the shoulders as she had done with you. Her slim fingers dug into his collarbone as she stared deep into his shaky yellow eyes. It hurt so much but the boy refused to flinch upon her aggression, trying to seem tough under the eyes of the Olo'eyktan and his mate.

Neytiri wanted to do so many bad things to this boy. Pull his hair until he feels every single strand leave his fragile scalp. Maybe she’d cut his braids out one by one, so close to his head that it'll bleed upon contact with her dagger. Maybe she’d even take it upon herself to gouge his eyes out, cutting his fingers for her to collect.

Though she just couldn’t and it took her every single nerve in her body to retain herself from killing the na’vi man. Even if this boy had endangered her youngest daughter, then abandoning her amongst the trees of the forest.

From inside of the tent, Lo’ak and Kiri were in the front seat to the argument that was happening outside. Kiri brought it upon herself to grab her little sister, bringing her scared form outside in her arms. Tuk squirmed in her sister’s arms upon the sight of the accused man, and it was more obvious than anything else that he was guilty.

Jake rubbed a hand up and down his face at the complications. Neytiri looked back at her daughter, trying not to let her own anger scare away her youngest child. She reached a hand towards Tuk, softly caressing her cheek as she smiled warmly at her.

“Why have you never said anything Tuk?” Neytiri tried to get her to answer, as the man before them would deny any accusations. Tuk faltered before her, feeling her heart stop at her mothers words. How did they know? What was going to happen to her now?

“He threatened my brother, said he’ll do something about his five fingers if I said anything!” Tuk cried and the whole sully family’s heart softened upon the sight of the innocent youngest sibling. Lo’ak wasn’t as fond of Tuk as Kiri and Neteyam were, but he still loved his sister anyways. The thought that she had done all of this just to protect him made him feel the need to protect his sister even more than he already did.

Lo’ak raised his eyebrows comically as he heard what Tuk was saying. That boy was really threatening him, through his youngest sister. What a weakling. Though he knew better than to say anything in front of his already angry parents, he just stayed quiet as he watched the scene unfold.

“I’m sorry mom, I didn’t mean to lie to you!” she sobbed, trying to leave the embrace of her eldest sister. Neytiri frowned at her crying daughter, taking her into her own arms and reassuring her that everything was okay, and that she was not the one that was about to be in trouble.

Coming back to their senses after their little Tuk frenzy, Lo’ak glared daggers into the na’vi’s head and Jake was mentally preparing himself to have to physically remove his own son from the victim of his glare. He approached the boy, standing all tall and intimidating before him.

“What’s your name son?” he questioned, half-lidded eyes staring straight into his. The boy cowards once more before the olo’eyktan as he introduces himself.

“Murife,” he murmured, already knowing that he was doomed as he had gotten exposed by the 8 year old child. He should’ve been disappointed in himself for threatening a child for the sake of his own entertainment, and now he was about to face the repercussions of his very own actions.

Jake raised an eyebrow at the sudden behaviour of the boy, and he was sure to inflict the toughest punishment upon the boy that had dared to threaten his family.

You felt so refreshed as you stepped out of the shower, now that your avatar was back in her pod again. Your hair had been freshly washed and the sweet aroma of your apple shampoo felt like heaven. The towel that was draped over your shoulder prevented your back from getting soaked as your hair air dried. Your stomach rumbled as it begged you to feed it, since you had not yet eaten after waking back up in your human body.

You snatched a packet of chips from Norm's secret stash, fumbling with the plastic packaging as loud as you could only to mess with the older man. You wanted him to know that his hiding spot was utterly shit and that it took you no time to find it. You wondered how he still had them, because it had been so many years since they’d move to Pandora from Earth. In all scenarios, the chips would’ve gone bad, since the trip from Earth to Pandora was no 6-hour trip to New York. Maybe they were made in some secret factory that they had here?

The moist towel was starting to feel uncomfortable on your naked shoulders, clad in a tight white tank top that you had found in your tiny closet. To say that Norm was pleased with your sudden re-arrival in your avatar was a lie. He knew that Neteyam had hurt you the first time that you had come back, all teary and snappy.

He knew because it had been more than obvious. Your visible affiliation with the boy could be seen with the naked eye, for you had never been that secretive. Having you in the lab 24/7 had already been hard because of your sulking, and the fact that you kept on eating his snacks.

Now that you were back, he feared that it was definitive.

The packet of chips crinkled in your hand as you moved towards your monitor. You rolled your desk chair back and the chair heaved upon your weight.

“Stealing my snacks again?” your ears picked up from behind you, though you failed to respond to the man as you were too busy typing in your computer’s password. Your tongue stuck out the side of your mouth as you tried to remember the pass, racking through your brain thought by thought as you searched for it.

Your hand reached for the plastic bag again, but when you thrashed your hand down to meet the chips, your fingers made harsh contact with the hard material of the table. You screeched dramatically at the pain, feeling like you had just smashed your fingers against concrete.

You quickly turned around on the wheels of your chair, glaring at the cause of your pain. Norm could only shrug at your fierce look, dragging on his pettiness by eating the chips before you.

“Woodland,” Norm said as you gave him the most incredulous look. Had the man really lost his head?

“Woodland,” he said again, this time with more affirmation. “That’s your password, Woodland.” Norm said, approaching you from behind with the piece of plastic still in his hand. He stood besides you now, looking down at your monitor as you typed in what he said hesitantly.

“Who would be stupid enough to put their password as Woodland?” you mumbled to yourself but it failed to escape the keen hearing of the man beside you. He snickered at you as your computer unlocked before your very own eyes, confirming that he was indeed right.

“You.” he teased as you threw him another look.

“I wasn’t talking to you. Plus give me that,” you told him before abruptly ripping the chips from his grip. Norm furrowed his eyebrows as he attempted to retake the packet from you, but you were just as childish as the man, so you refused to give in.

“It’s not good for you, you must keep healthy!” Norm rolled his eyes at your comment, abandoning his mission of reconquering his snack as he knew it was going to be fruitless.

“You talk as though it will not affect you either!” Norm tried to reason, but you simply ignored him as you scrolled through your files. He stopped trying to argue with you as he took notice of all of your recent research and discoveries. To say that you were really entranced with the na’vi lifestyle would be an understatement.

A sudden file had caught onto your attention, despite scrolling at the speed that you were, you had managed to catch it between thousands of others. For it didn’t look like any other file that you had. You looked back at Norm for some kind of assurance, despite stupidly knowing that there was no way that he’d know what it was either.

You dragged your pointer towards the file, reluctantly clicking on the file as a video popped up. By visual, it seemed to be a screen recording from your ipad. You told yourself that it must’ve been an accidental recording, that your fingers must’ve accidently clicked on the button and that it ended up here because it had been shared through Icloud.

Though you had a deep feeling that told you it was more than that, so you proceeded to press play. Both you and Norm leaned closer to the monitor as you heard voices coming from the recording. deep, male voices. For sure they did not belong to you, added to the fact that there were many voices.

You were so confused at first as you watched the screen switch from apps to apps, even opening your notes for a split second. Norm had caught on to some of the words on your note as he quickly skimmed through it, and he nudged you playfully. You would have normally been dying of embarrassment if it wasn’t for your brain being so muddled at the moment.

The voices were distinct at first, due to your computer’s volume being on low. Though the next screen was not what you would’ve expected at all. Your eyes were crowded with realization as you stared at the screen incredulously. And there had it all clicked.

You watched as the iPad switched to the camera app for a quick second, flashing the faces of a few young na’vi men. Na’vis that you could recognize because they had been with you on the day of the hunt. The day of the accident. You didn’t need to raise your volume to know what they were doing, and it didn’t take a genius to understand that you had been framed for the unfortunate accident that they had caused.

You got up from your chair so fast that it startled Norm, nearly knocking him off his feet. You were quick to grab an exopack, given that you were not in your avatar any more. Norm simply watched as you left in a hurry, too stressed off by you to even ask what was wrong. He could’ve sworn that you were making his hair whiten faster than it should be with your antics.

“Here catch this!” You yelled at him before leaving, tossing him the crushed up packaging that you had pressed into a ball. Norm rolled his eyes at you, first you stole his chips, and now he was in disposal duty for your own garbage?

He rubbed a hand down his face as he watched you exit the lab doors. He knew that asking you not to go wherever you were headed was useless, so he could only wish for your safety. “Eywa, how fun it is to take care of a teenager,”

To say that Zuko felt surprised when you had shown up to your spot in your human form was an understatement. She eyed the weird device that invaded your face, preventing you from the death that awaited you if you even dared to inhale the air on Pandora. She was silent as ever, though her emotions were on blast upon her face.

She felt stupid when the thought of you looking so much like your avatar had crossed her mind, because of course you did. It was your avatar after all, made with your DNA. After her mental embarrassment died down, she couldn’t help but now admire that same fact. Your nose was slightly different than the ones of the na’vi, your skin colour of a totally different palette than theirs. She would not even dare to talk about the size difference, because you nearly had to crane your neck all the way just to meet her eyes - so she opted to kneel down for your comfort.

You still brought that feeling of warmth deep inside of her, in your avatar form or not. Her heart still raced at the view of you approaching the spot you both had in a secluded part of the forest, and the same exact smile still made its way onto her face at the sound of your voice. Avatar or not, you still managed to scramble those unfamiliar feelings into Zuko’s stomach.

She loved the way you made her ears hike up whenever you would whisper something stupid in her ears. She loved the way that she would race out of her family’s tent everyday at the same time, ignoring the yells of complaint from her mother that watched her scurry off. She was silent, but loud with her love.

You were the one that made her feel what love was like for the first time, and you were the one she would carry a torch for.

“You look weird.” she teased, smiling as you shot her a dirty look.

“In my scenario, you’re the one that looks weird,” you shot back at her, signing your insult to the tall, dark blue na’vi. You knew that Zuko was simply mute and not deaf, that signing back to her when you had the privilege of speaking was useless when she could hear you. Though you liked to do it because you felt as though she felt less desolated. “You just bash me because you know I'm beautiful!” you joked, now affirming your sentence in full voice.

Zuko turned her head towards the river flow, pretending like she’d rather observe the neon fish than answer your retaliation. You could not see her face from your position, and even less from your height. She was glad of your current barrier, because she would’ve hated knowing that you had caught onto the indigo colour that adorned her face at the moment. She felt pathetic for being so flustered at your stupid comment, one that was definitely not supposed to affect her as it had done.

“Are the fish really that interesting?” you broke the silence, shaking Zuko out of her trance. Her ears twitched at the sound of your voice suddenly booming, and soon she turned around to meet you once more. The size difference was truly something that had irked you when you had decided to ditch your na’vi body for the second time. The first time that you had chosen to never enter your avatar ever again, a failed promise to yourself, the size difference had not really bothered you. You hadn’t lived in your avatar for long enough amongst the omatikaya for it to truly bother you, but now was a whole different story.

You had gotten used to reaching for the sweet fruits in the tall palm trees, ones that you could easily reach as of before. You hated that you had to rely mostly on norm or the other avatars now that you could not find food for yourself. Hunting was way off the chart for you because if the creatures were fierce enough when you were 7 feet tall, then imagine yourself now at your human height. Your muscles were as well weaker than the ones that your avatar harboured.

Zuko had known of your troubles, of what was bothering you. She could not eat with you in the forest anymore, because of that stupid mask on your face and it made her sad that she now had to eat dinner at home. Boring old home.

“Very much,” she rolled her eyes, answering your previous question.

You moved to sit on the floor as she still refused to look at you, even though she was facing you now. The soft grass tickled your skin but you would take this over sitting on some concrete floor anyday. You pat the hard soil beneath the grass in a call for the na’vi woman. “Come sit next to me,”

She complied this time, her unsettlement having left. You smiled a toothy grin as she sat in front of you, legs crossed before her. You hesitated before telling her what you had to say, staring into her eyes for a moment because you feared her reaction.

“I must meet with Neteyam again tonight.” you shrunk under her unresponsive form, unable to tell what her reaction was to be. Would she be angry at you? Would she believe that you were returning to him just to give him another chance?

She tilted her head to the side at your visible distress. She noticed how you were fiddling with your fingers, intertwining your fingers and unlatching them.

“Why must you go back to him? after he has hurt you so many times?” she signed, a frown snaking up onto her once joyful face.

“I'm not going back because I love him. I have something important to show him, something that concerns the day of the accident…” you said mumbling the last part, feeling your humiliation rising back up at the thought of the day where you had been literally manhandled in front of the whole village.

Zuko’s ears flattened at your attempt in convincing her, still feeling like she was missing something.

“So you still do love him then?”

You found yourself hesitating at her questing, despite knowing what your heart was urging you to say. Your hesitance sent hope into Zuko’s own heart, but her brain told her to wait for confirmation before she got over herself.

“It’s hard to rid yourself of those feelings, no matter how I am at him or how much of a skxawng he is,” the both of you laughed. “It doesn’t mean that I forgive him for lying to me, and for….well everything else.” you breathed out, feeling your throat tighten out at the thought of your lover’s betrayal.

“You may know what it feels like, have you ever loved anybody before?” you asked, and she looked at you solemnly.

‘Yes, I have loved you.’ she wishes to say, but not words could leave her throat. They made their way from her heart, racing through the vessels of her veins before getting stuck in her throat. She hated her disability at the moment for her lack of expression. She wished she could sign it to him, before you decide to leave to meet with the boy that had stolen your heart.

Her hands shook with nerves as she failed to bring them between the both of them. As much as she tried, the fear of your rejection blocked her from telling you those few words, and oh how much she wished for you to know.

At the end of the day, Zuko knew that it was worthless anyways. Your heart soared for Neteyam only. It would always be him, never her. She can't blame you for loving the Sully boy, for he is everything that she was not. Loving someone means letting them be happy, and if you were happy loving Neteyam, then she had no right to try and ruin things for you.

She shook her head from side to side, signing a quiet no with her head. She looked so crestfallen that it sent a pang to your heart, she was your best friend after all and seeing her so sad affected your mood as well. You tried to smile warmly at her, being her pillar of comfort .

“You will find the one for you, I am sure of it,” you said, and soon Zuko was forced to watch you walk away. She couldn’t refuse when you had asked so sweetly if she could bring you to the village. The words that she failed to tell you would always be stuck at the back of her throat as though a punishment for her cowardice.

You had almost wanted to punch yourself as you found yourself standing before the Sully��s tent door.

With much hesitation, you stepped foot into the tent and to your bad luck, Neytiri had been the first to spot your frame. She abruptly stood up from where she was previously sitting, disturbing Tuk from her peace. Every single eye from the tent turnt towards the scene, especially unwanted one’s. Neteyam was quick to stand up after his mother, desperation obvious on his face.

She felt a little bit more hostile given that you had shown yourself here in your human body, but she couldn’t help and wondered how you had made it here. You had no Kuru as a human, so how did you make the bond with your Ikran to reach the High camp?

Neytiri felt the urge to say something to you, but what? She didn’t know if she should’ve scolded you for being here after she explicitly told you to stay out of the village, or to thank you for exposing that scum earlier this morning. The man that had endangered her daughter.

She was lost in her own confusion and feelings towards you. In a way, she wanted to apologise for being the way she was to you, but she feared the act of forgiving your people. She feared that if she accepted you like she had with Jake, it would turn out to be a whole undercover story like it had been with the ex-marine.

She feared that you would hurt her son like Jake had once hurt her, though they were far from that now. He had proven himself amongst the clan and he had redeemed himself, so why couldn’t you? Though she didn’t like and trust you enough to forgive you for now, she would simply stay quiet until you showed your potential real colours.

Neteyam grazed a hand on his mothers shoulders, gently pushing her out of the way as he went to walk towards you. She couldn’t say anything this time, she just wouldn’t allow herself to. It wasn’t for you, it was for her son. If he was happy with you then so be it, she just wishes that he doesn’t come crying to her afterwards.

Oh and how much of the story had she missed…

“You must take a look at this,” you said, tone cold and urgent as you showed him the iPad. Eywa, how many of these did you sky people have. You pushed the iPad towards him, the device making straight contact with his toned stomach due to your height difference. He was slim and fit, lacking fat in his stomach area, so it was useless to say that it hurt like a bitch when the device made contact with his body.

Neteyam thought about it, before passing the iPad to his mother. He outstretched his arm towards her, holding the small device between careful fingers. Neytiri hesitated before the demon device, eventually accepting to keep it for now at her son’s furrowed eyebrow bones.

“What are you doing? I told you to look at it.” you rolled your eyes as he delayed your leave. The exopack on your face was really starting to bother you and you wished for nothing more than to go back home and unto the comfort of your warm bed.

“Come on, come with me. There are things we must talk about.” you gave him an uninterested look, before he tried again.

“And I will walk you home after, I promise. Just join me in this walk.” he says, asif reading your mind.

“Make sure to actually walk her home, brother!” Lo’ak yelled from inside of the tent, causing Neytiri and Jake to throw him a deterrent glare. Kiri hit him upside the head, a clear sibling habit that she had adopted. “OW, OH YOU'RE GONNA GET IT!”

Lo’ak turned around to face her, forehead creased as he hissed at his sister.

Jake sighed as he knew that tonight was going to be a long night for him.

Eclipse had already settled upon the lands of Pandora, and the exhaustion was really starting to take a toll on you. You were walking beside Neteyam in the forest as you awaited for him to make the first move.

The fan lizards seemed to have been staring into your soul, anticipating your chaos as they rested comfortably camouflaged on the branches. Though you had no interest in the lizards, or the Yerik that played near your feet, or the bioluminescent beauty that surrounded the both of you. You simply wanted to get this over with, listen to what Neteyam had to urgently tell you and dip back home.

Noting that you were walking as a human in the humongous forest now, you were getting tired two times faster than before and Neteyam was taking you rather far away from the prying ears of the omatikaya.

“So….?” you started, looking forward at the trail before you instead of at Neteyam. He breathed in audibly as you broke the silence, stopping in front of you as he looked at his feet. Neither of you were staring at each other, and you both were glad at that.

“I wanted to say I'm sorry, for…..for everything really.” He apologised with a genuine tone. You scoffed a little too loudly at him, and he turned to look at you oddly. You still weren’t concentrating on him, and he shrunk under your lack of attention.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, worried at your scornful laugh.

“You thinking that apologising is enough,” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear. The forest went silent at your argument, as though the nature besides you was listening to your lovers quarrel. You felt as though the leaves were people that watched you, and you soon grew yourself a whole audience of trees and wild beasts.

Neteyam’s eyebrow bones furrowed at your scornful comment once more, and he was starting to get irritated by your lack of understanding.

“Because clearly it isn’t?” he sassed, rolling his eyes as he averted them from you.

“Eywa, Neteyam you lied to me!’ You yelled at him, feeling your throat tightening on you as you fought the urge to cry. Not in front of him, not again. It was your time to stare at your unresponsive partner now.

“And I’m sorry! I didnt know how to tell y-“

“You’re sorry? You were bethrothed to my best friend the entire time and all you can find to say is that you’re sorry?” You sniffled, betrayal written all over your face. You wanted to stop the deep feeling of hurt that you felt at the fact, but there was nothing that could ease it. Neteyam groaned as you spoke back, nevertheless softening at your soft sniffles. He lifted a hand up to brush against the back of his neck that hid behind his long braids. His beads clinked together as he moved them.

“I didn't know how to tell you, one minute you were just somebody that I was forced to teach and the next you became so much more than that!” He yelled back. Frustration was running thick in his veins as he couldn’t find a way to properly express himself to you. “I do not love Zepii and I never did, it was always you,” his strong voice faltered as he spoke softly to you.

“When were you supposed to be mated to her”

you asked, and Neteyam’s face contorted to confusion. He had just told you that he held nothing more than amiability for the girl, what more was there to say?

You repeated your question once more, this time more sternly as Neteyam got lost in his own thoughts.

“In two months or so…” he trailed off.

“And then what, you were just going to wake up on that day and decide to throw me to the side and go tend to your new mate.” You hollered. You sounded like a hysterical woman asking her husband where he had been all night. But as selfish as you sounded for asking the future Olo’eyktan if he would choose between you and a woman that he was bound to be mated to for his duties, you just needed to know.

“Listen, I…” he trailed off again, unable to find the right words to tell you in your moment of distress. The mask that was on your face stopped him from reading the emotions that were displayed on your face properly, but he knew that it was nothing joyful.

“I can't go any further than this, Neteyam”

The na’vi man looked at you through desperate half-lidded eyes, partly understanding what you had said although wishing for you to not mean what he thought you did.

“I'm trying to say that we should just end this here, Neteyam.” you were finally able to say. You eyed the na’vi boy nervously as he stayed silent. Eywa, there was so much tension in the air that you could probably slice through it with a dagger and it was starting to feel more and more awkward as the seconds passed by. Neteyam felt as though his whole universe had just fallen, as though Pandora had just stopped rotating and had deprived him of any air.

You, the love of his life, was breaking up with him because you claimed that he loved you no more. You were wrong, he wanted to scream and beg for you to take him back even though you had just left him. Because he loved you more than he could say.

His yearning for you was stronger than his need for water, and he’d sworn that you crossed his mind every second that you were not next to him. You invaded his mind when he didn't want you to, and you stayed there until he had to force himself to think of something else.

Now he watched as the one person he has ever loved so much walks away from his life because of his mistakes. Oh how much he wishes that you were born as one of them, so that he could love you without the burden of being downcasted upon his clan, his friends, his mother. He wishes that Neytiri would understand you, would see you as he saw you. Then maybe things would been easier for the both of you.

“What?” Neteyam asked in a hushed tone, as though he would break if he spoke any louder. He questioned you as asif he had not heard you the first time, as though you had not just broken his heart.

“I’m sorry neteyam, I fear that you do not love me like you had once done. And i fear that you never will.” You spoke, voice equally as hushed as his. He moved towards you in fast paced steps, grabbing both of your hands in his tight grip when he reached you. It was slightly an awkward position due to your height difference, but he was really starting to get desperate here. He was desperate to not let you go, because he knew that if he let go of your hands right now, you’d disappear from his life forever.

“I can change for you Y/N, i see you,” he said, but nothing was enough to convince you anymore. “I love you more than I can express, I beg of you to let me prove that to you. I will force my mother to see you if I have to, she will have no other choice,”

“We can run away together, once we become mates they will have no choice but to accept us!” He begged, so close to falling to his knees just for you to understand his pleas. A deep frown settled on your face as you watched him express his despair and your heart soared as a single tear made its way down his delicate cheeks.

He didn't bother to wipe it, and soon many more were to follow through. You felt your throat tighten up even more at the pitiful sight of the person you once called your lover. You turned your head to look at anything but Neteyam. You could not stand to look him in the face anymore, afraid that if you continued, you would break just like him and accept his promises.

His empty promises.

You knew that there was no way that you could be with Neteyam without some sort of repercussion. If you ran away today with him, were you sure that another clan would take you in? If you mated with him on this fateful night, you were sure that the both of you would never live down the shame that was to be casted upon the both of you from the clan’s judgmental voices. You cannot do this to someone that you love, and you would not.

No matter how much neteyam’s words and actions have affected you, or how much his absence pained you, you knew that a part of you would always yearn for him. That’s why you had to let him go, lie to him about his own lack of love. Perhaps you could manipulate him into believing that he actually did not feel for you anymore, then it would hurt less for him.

You’d tell him lies in the eyes of love.

Because you never wished for adversity upon Neteyam just because of your selfish love, but if that was all that you could bring upon him, then the best solution was to let him go.

You cupped his face into one of your hands, four fingers laying across his jawline as your thumb ran comfortingly on his cheek. You used the backside of your index on your free hand to wipe his tears away, and he melted in your touch. He was relishing in what could be your last touch, and he forced himself to accept that.

'I'm sorry,’ you whispered to him, as though that would soothe the both of your breaking hearts. You could not shake off the frown that was imposed on your face and you wished that the Tashik had some kind of herbal medicine for the throb that you felt deep inside your chest.

Breakups are not always all one sided evilness and derisive threats. Sometimes, breakups are for the better, and you hopped that this is what you could bring in Neteyam’s life even if it meant leaving him.

When neteyam got home that night, he was inconsolable. Oh what love does to you. He was still in denial, refusing to believe that you had left him for good, that you had abandoned your na’vi body once more. His brother wanted to make fun of him so bad for crying, like a brother does to another. Though he saw through Neteyam’s pain, he understood that what he was going through was real.

Neteyam’s heart hurt so bad he could physically feel it, the spot in his chest that churned with remorse and twists in regret. Kiri wishes she could take her brother suffering away, but in other light, she felt more for you. She knew what it felt like to be an outcast just like you and her brother Lo’ak. Being teased endlessly because of her five fingers and weird eyebrows.

Though she was spared because she had been adopted by the olo’eyktan and the Tsahik of the omatikaya. She could not even start to imagine what this whole thing felt like from your side. If neteyam felt twisting in his chest than you felt your whole heart being worn out.

He knew that he had to be strong, not to appear like a heavy-hearted person before his family. Though he just couldn’t anymore, he couldn’t keep the act up. He couldn’t go back home pretending like everything was okay, because it was not.

Neytiri was so worried for her son. Her son that was usually the family’s sunshine, behind Tuk of course. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that it troubled her mind. His tears brought some of her own to her eyes, but she brushed them away because it was not her moment to cry.

Her son was clearly going through something and she had to be there for him. So she did so, she sat beside Neteyam, bringing her knees to her chest just as he had done. She had tried everything to get Neteyam to talk to her ever since he had stepped foot back in the tent, but to no avail.

He was giving her the silent treatment, and Neytiri hated the fact that she knew she probably deserved it. If she hadn’t been so harsh on you, maybe the both of you would still be happy right now. She knew that deep down you were just as much of a kid as her son, human or not. You had feelings like her son, and your feelings could get hurt just like his.

Even with the knowledge, she still treated you as though you were undeserving of everything. You were someone else’s daughter just as much as Kiri and Tuk were her daughters, and she would hate for someone else to treat them like she had treated you. She hated when those young boys would make fun of Kiri and Lo’ak for their 5 fingers, so why must she have been so rude towards you?

Neytiri had tried everything. She had tried sitting and talking to him during dinner time. She tried to encourage him to come hunting with her when the sun would show again. She had tried to comfort him, but he wanted none of it coming from her. Eventually Jake got her to lay off his back until he was ready to talk about it to them, so they both left and drowned into a deep pool of slumber.

His younger brother snored loudly in his spot, informing Neteyam that he was well asleep. He checked on his other sisters too, who seemed to be sleeping as well. He couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t get you off his mind, he couldn’t get anything that had happened off of his mind.

He thought back at the iPad that you had given him so urgently earlier, telling him how much he had to look at its content. Though he felt a pang in his heart at the thought that it was your device. You had given it to him.

With a huff, he pushed all of those feelings away. He turned on the weird gadget with much difficulty due to his large fingers. The ipad that you had chosen to pass him was generally large, though still no match for the na’vi build. He was afraid to mess with it too much, scared of what it could and would do if he pressed the wrong thing.

Thankfully for him, upon unlocking the device the video had already been there. Ready for him to play. Perhaps you had known of his lack of knowledge towards those types of things and that’s why you had prepared it for him beforehand? Neteyam shook his head, of course you did.

You knew him like the back of your hand. You knew of his dislike towards the other sky people and their traditions and basically their whole existence. You knew what kind of flowers he loved, the type that smells so strong that he creases his nose after inhaling its sweet aroma for too long. You knew so much about him.

His fingers moved to press on the obvious play button in the middle on the screen and he jumped as a loud audio began playing from the video. His ears flared up at the familiar voices of those boys, and he watched the rest of the video with genuine curiosity.

The soft light of the iPad enveloped his sharp features in the sheer darkness of the night. It hurt his eyes slightly, but he just couldn’t care much about that. He couldn’t help the way his ears then tensed upon recognition of what was happening, and he just knew at the moment that he had to do everything in his ability to make things right with you once more.

The night was pressing on, and his exhaustion after everything that had happened today was really starting to act on him. His eyelids were beginning to close upon themselves and the ipad nearly slipped out of his once tight grip as he felt himself lose consciousness.

He gave up for today, deciding to enjoy the solace of his warm bed for the night. Tomorrow, he’d promise himself that he’d start working harder for you, that he’d soon confront his mother and end things with Zepii publicly. He promised himself that this time, he would not serve you anymore empty promises.

tags @uwu-i-purple-you @love13tter @melsunshine @bratsukisworld @jyoungmom @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @fanboyluvr @erenjaegerwifee @laylasbunbunny @gabithefanwriter @alwaysandforever22 @jjkclub @koalalafications @doggyteam2028 @navs-bhat @miawastakens @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @peachinsomniac @hlhl99 @loakloverr @chucklefuvk @idktbhloley @saltedcoffeescotch @kikookii @anxietydrogz @inluvwithneteyam @arminsgfloll @doulcha @dreamergirljen @parrotpeggy @onetwo123three @neteyams-wifee @jdbxws @wheeeelys @lovedbychoi @neteyamsmate4life

#neteyam x reader #atwow #avatar #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #atwow x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam oneshot #neteyam angst #angst #Neteyam #atwow angst

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remikuii · 3 months

Note

I'm not sure if I can request, happy new year btw! I hope your new year goes so well, wishing you happiness.

About my request, if you are okay with it ofc I would like to request Reader who is really similar to Fyodor (Like smart, lonely and quiet most of the time etc) x Fyodor. I really wonder how Fyodor would act towards her! (You don't have to do this :), you can just share your ideas too if you don't feel like making this!!)

15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds

( ᪥ ) : i’m back y’all, i’m gone for days since i’ve been busy with studies lately. soo, another request !! i can’t mention you so i’ll reply to this one :>

characters : fyodor dostoevsky x reader

synopsis : oh, to be one of fyodor's enemies, he definitely cares about the written threats he will send you. well, fyodor's busy with writing something for his beloved enemy—Dazai, that he even threw multiple drafts to perfect his 'kanji". It goes on for exactly 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds while not giving you anything even a spare glance. Jealous for a certain piece of paper tainted with ink, you decided to challenge him on a one-on-one chess match.

warnings : nope because i said no HAHA

Looking around the lounge, you spotted the usual workaholic short raven hair, busy nipping on his fingers—must be having a hard time writing in kanji. You took the opportunity to invite him for a friendly chess match with you, which he couldn't easily decline.

"Please do enlighten me to why I should play chess with you, myshka." Fyodor simply took his eyes off the screen and ran his calloused yet delicate fingers on your cheeks.

Living with Fyodor, two years later after the orphanage incident, is filled with intellectual arguments. Not the actual fights like shouting, harming—but rather, a battle of minds. You considered the tragedy in the orphanage as a blessing in disguise. If that didn't happen, maybe you're still being shout at by one of your so-called 'masters'.

"First of all, you're doing that usual habit of yours which sometimes bothered me, it's almost bleeding! Second, I would like to know if I am really not clever enough just like what you told me two years ago."

Putting up the pieces, Fyodor watched your hands, swiftly gliding through the pieces. He smiled in defeat, he knows to himself that he couldn't win against your lovely invitation.

"Chess, like life, demands sacrifice."

"But not all sacrifices lead to victory...Fyodor, dear." You shrugged, moving a knight to challenge Fyodor's position.

"In literature and chess, foresight is the key," He remarked, sacrificing a bishop to open an attacking path.

"Yet, in every move, there lies a story..."

In the endgame, Fyodor, with a cunning smile moved the piece and turned his attention back to you.

"Checkmate, where every move is a sentence in the narrative of defeat."

You sighed in defeat, letting Fyodor's pride to enlarge. You never won, but you can buy some time—you're not running out of ideas to throw against him, which surprisingly, amazed Fyodor.

He caressed your cheeks with his cold pale hands. His calloused hands itches your skin but you don't mind.

"You're still not clever enough, myshka..But I think, that's enough to entertain me." Fyodor stood up and placed a kiss on your forehead while softly caressing your hair. He tried to move away after the kiss but you pulled him soon after.

"Letting yourself stress over writing kanji merely for that bandaged man and not even sparing me an hour? You've spent a total of 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds only for that letter..." You huffed and pulled out a book out of his random piles.

"Nietzsche's 'Beyond Good and Evil'...Hm, interesting choice you have there...Please do enlighten me about this book, Mister Dostoevsky." Fyodor's sharp and alluring gaze pierced your soul in somehow—a good way.

"Take my hand then, my love. I truly grieved for that 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds I spent not to you."

"But to my next 15 hours, 25 minutes, and 45 seconds, I shall please my queen with these hands which I used to writing kanji and maybe, explore each and every part of her."

and yeahh, it took me a month to finish this one. damn school works :< but dw, it's hereee. i'm actually planning to post scaramouche x reader huhu

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dollygirl808 · 5 months

Text

A Dead Man's Home

Childhood best friend! Simon "Ghost" Riley x Nurse!OC Ava

(Emotional, hurt/comfort, injury, breaking and entering, angst? Romance? Kinda.)

While this story is SFW, please be respectful and know that my blog as a whole is not, and is 18+ only. It's also possible that if I make this a series it'll contain smut. Thanks!

Big Masterlist

Ava gasped, falling back into the door she just closed as she saw him- just sitting there, apparently napping. Naturally, she screamed.

The man startled awake, a gun appearing in his hands as he shot up straight and pointed the gun at her, pretty blue eyes meeting hers. And then he relaxed, dropped the gun which bounced off the cushion and skittered under her coffee table. The masked man leaned back on her couch, hissing under his breath and pressing his hand into his side, which was currently bleeding through his black shirt.

There was a nice black leather jacket thrown over her dining chair, and a pair of heavy black combat boots that she almost tripped over.

"What're ya screaming for?" He asked, grimacing when speaking agitated his injuries. "Jus' me, love," He told her like it was obvious, thick British accent making her head reel. First his eyes- so familiar yet so different. Then his voice.

"W-what?" She took a stuttering breath, feeling her knees grow weak as she stared at the man currently bleeding out on her couch.

Then, slowly so as to not cause too much pain, he lifted his hand and peeled away the torn, bloodsoaked balaclava and revealed his face. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Si.." The tears welled up immediately, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as her voice trailed off. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to take a single step closer. His face is plenty recognizable in the dark of her apartment anyways, and there was a little light peering through the closed curtains.

Whatever face she's making must be ugly, twisted in disbelief and heartbreak and relief all rolled into one- she's always been an ugly crier, he told her so plenty of times. She must look so silly right now because he chuckled, low and deep, although the movement makes him grunt in pain again.

"Hey love," Simon rasped, chest rising with every heavy breath.

"Si... S-simon?" She asked, voice breaking off into a near silent whisper, the tears already gathering at her hand pressed to her face.

"Yeah. 'S me love,'' He told her, and that's all it took.

Ava burst into sobs, crumbling right there in her spot by the door to her knees, both hands pressed tight to muffle her opened-mouth wailing.

"Shit-" Simon cursed out, forcing himself to his feet and limping over to her. He kneeled in front of her, bruised and gloved hand hesitating before softly touching her hair like she was a wounded animal, as fragile as porcelain under his blood stained palm.

The single featherlight touch is all it took for her to throw herself at him, falling into his chest as she took them both to the ground despite his groaned protest of pain, crying into his blood-soaked shirt and clenching the fabric between his fingers like he might disappear again.

This isn't exactly what Simon expected when he came here, half delirious from blood loss, clumsily prying open her window out in the open where anyone could see. Really, she should get a security system, it was way too easy to break into her house. But that could be talked about later, after they've both calmed down and had some time to talk.

He could feel his own emotions swell, his nose and eyes burn. But he doesn't cry, no- he's far too gone for that, committed too many crimes, killed too many people. A single tear is all he allowed himself, pressing his cheek to the top of her ginger curls, letting the single droplet soak into her hair. He knows she felt it, too, but she doesn't say anything.

She's too busy cursing at him and hitting his chest and arms, and crying into his shirt and clinging to him, but she knows.

Ava sat up, half straddled over his waist from where she tackled him, cute puffy cheeks all angry and pouty as she glared down at him through teary eyes, and she slapped him. Hard, right across his face.

"You- you fucking asshole!" She sobbed, using the sleeve of her blue nurse's scrub to wipe at her teary face, but even as she tried to stop the waterworks they just kept coming.

Simon grabbed her wrists when she started pressing the heel of her palm into her eyes, pulling her hands away from her face with just one of his. His thick, scarred thumb swiped away a tear on her cheek, looking up at her with such longing as he did it. And she can't help but smile, lean into his touch as disbelieving little giggles bubbled out of her.

"I know. M' sorry Ava," He told her, voice reverent as he looked up at her as a thing to be cherished, treasured. And she was, to him. The closest thing to family he had was right here, in his arms.

"Don't Ava me!" She snapped at him, hitting at his thick muscled chest, and he let her, although it lacked any real venom or aggression. "You died! You left-!" The tears welled up again, and she hiccuped out another sob, cutting herself off.

"You left me, Si," She whimpered out, bottom lip quivering as she blinked at him through tears, fingers clenched into his black shirt again.

He swallowed thickly, barely able to meet her gaze, "I know.. 'M really sorry love." He wiped at the fresh salty tears on her face then rubbed his thumb against her cheek, and it didn't take long for her to melt into his touch again, un-clenching her hands and resting them against his middle just where his shirt was bunched up around her thick thighs.

"I missed you, so much Si- you have no idea."

"Missed you too, love," He breathed out.

Ava went to scrub at her face again with her sleeve, only to see blood on her scrubs that wasn't there before. She stared at it, blinked, then blinked again as if it would go away.

"....You're bleeding," She stated, chocolate eyes shifting from her bloodied sleeve to his face.

"Yea," He nodded once, concise, just agreeing with her statement.

They stared at each other for a moment, both silent for different reasons, Simon because he didn't have anything else to say, and Ava because she was praying for the strength not to kill him a second time and wring his neck.

She settled for smacking the side of his head before scrambling off of him, rushing to her bathroom for her first aid kit.

"Ow- what was that for?" He huffed, sitting up and dragging himself to leave back against the couch, not having the energy to stand up again.

He flinched from the bright light when she flicked on her living room switch, "For letting me squish you under me while you bled out, you moron!" She scolded him, dropping to her knees once again, this time with a white box that had the medical symbol on it.

She slapped away his hands with a click of her tongue as he tried to lift his shirt up, then pressed a thick pill into his palm and handed him her water bottle as she lifted his torn shirt for him, gingerly unwrapping his hastily-done bandaging.

"What'dya do that for anyways?" She glanced up at him as she tore open a disinfectant wipe, just to be safe. As he was about to speak she pressed it to his wounds, making him hiss out in pain. It brought a small little smile to her face.

"Little sadist," He sighed fondly, "Did it cause I missed you," He smiled softly at her despite her sadistic little revenge, eyelids all droopy as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion.

It made her heart skip a beat again, her breath stutter as she prepared her suture needle and thread. "What're you looking at me like that for?" She huffed out, tucking her chin to her chest as she stared pointedly at his wound instead of him.

"Like what love?" He asked, tilting his head to the side to look at her more.

"Like you're about to bleed out, that's what you big brute." She fished out her phone from her pocket, tossing it at him.

"You'd never let me bleed out love," He teased with a charming smile, somehow still managing to be stupidly attractive even with blood splattered on his face. He caught her phone easily, and raised an eyebrow at her in the form of a question.

"Use the flash, can't see shit on the floor," She told him, and set her emergency kit on between his legs as she half laid over his lap and half on the floor to get a better angle.

"Don't know yer code, love," He turned the phone to face her so she could unlock it.

"It's the date you told me you were joining the military." He hummed, barely noticeable pause before turning it back to face him as he put the date in- he remembered of course, the first time he broke her heart, when he said he'd be gone for months on end, only coming back every once in a while.

So, she spent the next hour properly patching him up, plucking him in the thigh or stomach whenever he let the light move. There were only two wounds that needed to be stitched, one gnarly jagged tear across his side that she couldn't even make a guess as to where it came from, and the other on his thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

The rest of his wounds are mostly big, ugly bruises that must hurt like a bitch, and possibly a few broken ribs. When she tried to make him go to the hospital he put his foot down and refused.

"Simon," Ava sighed out, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I just don't understand, you could be seriously hurt, I'm not a doctor, I can't diagnose you," She told him, exasperated.

He sighed as well, blinking slowly at her. "Love- I'm dead. Y'remember that, don't ya?" He asked, poking his thick finger at the dog tags around her neck, the ones with his name on it, "Can't go to the hospital. They'll find my death certificate and it'll cause trouble."

Her face softened into a mournful little smile, the stinging of oncoming tears making her lip quiver again at the memory. It nearly made the corner of his lips quirk up in a smile, that was a trait from their childhood that he missed seeing. She always looked so cute like that, cheeks all puffed out, nose red with her bottom lip in a pout.

"I just... don't want you to die on me again, Si," She murmured, curling her legs under her as she scooted closer to him on the couch.

"You won't love, promise," He vowed to her, his expression almost adoring as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, then his hand fell down to her neck and slid into the hairs at the back of her neck.

"C'mere," Simon pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in one of his old shirts, the gray fabric stretched thinly over his thick muscled form, barely fitting him anymore.

When she handed it to him with a defiant blush, she threatened to kick him in the ribs if he ruined her favorite sleeping shirt. He huffed a laugh into her hair at the memory, and she nuzzled closer, burying her nose into his scent. Even if it was tainted by bloodshed and gunpowder, it was still him underneath it all. Her Simon.

---

Ava felt herself drifting off, when suddenly her world shifted as Simon hauled her up into his arms bridal style, making her squeak at him indignantly to be put down.

"I just stitched you up, you stray mutt!" She hissed at him, heat rising to her cheeks, "I'm too heavy and you're too injured to be carrying me Si!"

"Yer not," He rolled his eyes like what she said was a ridiculous, unfounded rumor with no truth to it, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth, "Now where's yer bedroom?"

A furious blush spread across her face, "Put me down!" She wriggled like a worm on a hook to get out of his grasp, but despite having to limp from his injury and likely having a few broken ribs, he didn't so much as falter in his hold on her. In fact, he completely ignored her as he began limping down a hallway in search of his current objective.

"Stop squirmin'. Won't help you," He chuckled, amused as he opened a door, found it to be a bathroom and kept looking.

Ava whined, pushing her face into his shoulder, "This is humiliating Si," She mumbled.

"Love, 'S just us. Now are ya gunna hide or help me?" He prompted, tilting his head to look down at her with his pretty blue eyes.

She pouted, and refused to look at him as she pointed to the slightly ajar door of her bedroom. The man just hummed in acknowledgment and limped his way over, pushing open the door as they shuffled through, and he sat with her in his arms still.

When she squirmed and complained, he graciously allowed her to sit on his lap instead. "D'ya work tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No, thankfully. I have the weekend off."

"Good," He sighed out, and promptly fell back onto the bed. "Let's sleep in tomorrow."

She had gotten changed into a t-shirt and shorts earlier when she let him borrow- or have, his old shirt back. And he was just wearing that and the boxers he wore when he came in, his pants being ripped and blood-soaked. As well as uncomfortable for sleeping in.

She crawled off of him, careful not to put any pressure on his wounds, and laid down as she usually would, covered pulled up to her chin.

"I never consented to you sleeping in my bed," She told him.

Simon cracked an eye open, looking over at her, "Want me to sleep on the couch, love?"

Ava pursed her lips, glancing away before looking back at him, "No," She admitted, voice quiet. He hummed again. He did that a lot, actually.

"You can cuddle with me.. I guess."

He smiled, "Thanks love."

It took him a few more minutes to move again, thoroughly exhausted, but eventually he dragged himself next to her under the covers, his least injured arm tucked under her head with his other wrapped around her soft stomach from behind, pulling her into his chest with only a small squeak of protest.

He pressed his nose into the nape of her neck, taking a deep breath filled with her smell, forehead pressed against her curls up in a bun. "Missed you," He mumbled against her neck, voice filled with warmth and pure adoration. Her breath hitched.

"I- missed you too," She told him back shakily. It was hard to keep her composure when he used that tone with her, so raw and exalting, hot against her skin.

"G'night love," Simon whispered into her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, trying to will her heartbeat to slow down, "Goodnight Simon.”

---

Thee end, that's all for now. Idk if ill write more because I wasn't supposed to start any new series bc I have too many in a cod fandom alone (7 now if you include this one) but you can have it and enjoy!

Taglist: @cringeycookies

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #hurt/comfort #emotional #one shot?#maybe #simon “im a dead man” riley #A Dead Man's Home cod

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kipsels · 11 months

Text

Destiny's Slave

Jing Yuan x Stelle

Stelle never tired of looking up into the skies while on the Luofu. The artificial atmosphere skittered and sparked as it hit the gravitational barrier that kept it contained, sending a myriad of colours across the sky like waves in a rainbow sea.

When the simulated night cycle began, the display was only more beautiful. Early on, she would sit out by the pier and simply watch the different patterns that took shape, the sound of late night cycranes flying by keeping her occupied.

Later, Stelle discovered that the view was even better from the Seat of the Divine Foresight.

The fact she even had the privilege to be there rocked her to the core, a simple foreigner who’s whole purpose of being on the Luofu had been orchestrated by a higher power she still didn’t understand.

The dust may have settled, and another stellaron may have been quelled, but more questions were raised every time she thought she had found an answer.

Even now, Kafka’s words still ring in her ears.

‘You had to establish a connection with the Alliance.’

Was this really what she had meant when she said those words? Was it all really just another step on a journey Stelle couldn’t control?

A hand curled over the dip in her waist, pulling her back and into the warmth of a firm chest. Strands of snow white hair fell across her shoulders as lips brushed over the shell of her ear, his voice husky with the dregs of sleep.

“Where has the star skiff taken your thoughts to tonight, my love?”

Stelle closes her eyes as she lets herself fall back into his embrace, but nothing can soften the pinch of her brow as the what if’s circle over and over in her mind.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s a very serious ‘nothing’ if it’s keeping you up all night.”

Jing Yuan’s hand petted her skin, the roughness of his sword hewn calluses causing her hairs to stand on end. She feels the weight of his curiosity, silently requesting her response. Her honesty.

A General’s demand.

If only she spoke half as eloquently as he could.

“How do I know any of this is real?”

His hand pauses, a shock of laughter rumbling through his chest and echoing through her body.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite prepared to handle existential crises at such a late hour, little sparrow. Would you care to explain a little more for me?”

Stelle lets him roll her onto her back, and she tries to keep her eyes from straying as she stares abjectly up at the ceiling. Counting the lights, the colours. Her bottom lip is bruised from her chewing before she even starts.

“You already know everything, Jing Yuan. Why the Stellaron Hunters came to the Luofu.”

He hummed softly in agreement.

“To form an alliance between the Xianzhou and the Express. To make their foreseen destiny a reality.”

To make her face The Destruction, she thinks to herself, but does not voice. The stellaron burns in her chest.

“But what if… what is this is just another part of their plan?”

She gestures to the empty space between them, her hand limp as it flops back and forth. The mattress shifts, and Jing Yuan bleeds into the corner of her vision as he lifts himself up to swallow her entire view.

He smiles, and Stelle’s heart stutters in response.

“If it is by someone else’s machinations that I have you in my arms, then I will surely thank them for the gift they have given me.”

The lights of the night sky paint across his skin, his hair, catching the glitter in his golden eyes, and Stelle is mesmerised by the man above her.

“You don’t mean that,” She whispers, awestruck.

“I do.”

Her mouth clicks shut, dumb words swallowed back. Butterflies wrestle inside her stomach as he leans in, the tip of his nose tracing the apple of her cheek.

"If this is simply destiny, is it really so terrible?" He asks, and Stelle has no answer.

It feels real. All of it. She knows his taste and his scent and his warmth and it feels real.

It feels like destiny, even as the word leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

“Leave your worries for the dawn light. For now, you must sleep.”

“But I can’t–”

“Then I shall simply have to tire you out, hm?”

“Oh.”

Jing Yuan’s breath flutters across her skin as he silently laughs at her awestruck expression, turning her cheeks as pink as the lights in the sky.

Tomorrow, the lights of the Luofu would still entrance her, and her worries of the future would remain.

But tonight, Stelle lets herself submit to the wings of destiny.

- Fin -

#drabble fic #jingstelle #hsr stelle #hsr #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #stelle #honkai star rail #cross posted onto twitter

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colorfull-cord · 1 year

Text

You Can Tell Me Anything Darling

Ships: C!Quackity x Raven!y/n

warnings: mentions of abuses su1c1d3 r@p3 (tell me if there are more please)

summary: you had a very traumatic past and quackity also going through trauma gets you to open up about your past and comforts you

🚨!!THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS CONTINUING WHERE IT LEFT OFF!!🚨

You were hanging out in quackitys office when you feel arms around your neck. You pull off the hands and immediately get up terrified. “Mi Amor why do you always do that?” You hear your boyfriend say softly walking around the chair. “I- don’t want to talk about it…” you say as you make your way over to him putting your head on his chest. “Mi Amor you know you can tell me anything right…?” He says softly playing with your hair not wanting to make you uncomfortable wrapping an arm around your waist. “I know that it’s just- I don’t- you-“ you let out a frustrated sigh. “Hey how about we go to the bedroom and talk about this, okay?” He says looking at you with the sweetest eyes. “Okay…” you say looking him in the eyes slightly smiling. “SLIME” “Yes?” You hear the green man say as he walks in. “Take care of the place while I’m gone” “Yes sir” He says walking all the way in. “Let’s go” your boyfriends says holding your hand walking out of the office. Once you get to the bedroom he sits down on the edge of the bed patting beside him wanting you sit down to. “let’s talk about this.” You sit down on the edge beside him a little distance between the two of you. “Now can you please explain why your always flinching and getting scared at simple things?” He says while looking at the floor then looking back up at you. “Well… where do I start…” “Wherever you want to love.” “Well…. it all started when I was about ten, my dad wasn’t the best person and he liked to….. hit my mom and make her bleed almost all the time. And one day I had enough of it and tried to stand up for her. In the end he pulled out his self defense knife and slashed me on the chest. I still have the scar from it but from that day forward he stopped abusing my mom and started not only abusing me but…..doing other……things. Every time he did stuff like that it was usually right when I got off of school pinning me down to the floor and taking my close off. It kept happening until I ran away and came here hoping to get ran over by a car or getting stabbed by a random person on the street or just getting drunk and killing my self. But then I found you, the day we met and you took me here to stay was the day I was going to off myself. But you seemed so kind and I thought that you really wanted me and I felt loved for once.” You looked at him tears streaming down your face “but I understand if you don’t want a s/o that flinches at everything and that doesn’t like going out or-“ you were stopped by a kiss on the lips. He put his hand on your cheek the other one holding your hand rubbing your knuckles. He pulled away and looked at you with soft understanding eyes. “Mi Amor, why didn’t you tell me this earlier? You know I would’ve understood and listened like now.” He said with his hand still on your cheek. “I know but I just- didn’t want you to thinking that I’m weird and breaking up with me.” You said still teary eyed. “You know I was abused to…. Before I owned this place.” He said looking down at the bed. “Well….can you tell me about it…? He explained his past to you as you held his hand. (Sorry I don’t remember his past lol) “and that’s pretty much it” he said looking up at you. “I’m so sorry for that happening. But is that why your wings are like that…?” “Yes it is” “well do you want to know something?” You said smiling at him “sure” “I actually have wings but I’ve always thought they were ugly so I’ve never had them out in the open.” This caught his attention. He perked up as soon as you said it. You knew what he was going to say next. “Well can I see them? Nothing on your body is ugly Mi Amor.” He gave you a reassuring smile. You take off your shirt only having on your bra. His cheeks and ears turned pink at the sight. You let out your massive wings both bigger than you. “They drag behind me when I walk but I found a way to make them smaller so they weren’t visible.” He just stood there looking at the massive black wings coming from your body. You could see the awe in his eyes.

*THIS IS GOING TO HAVE A PART 2 POSTED TODAY*

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iheartgracie · 2 years

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shannon lynch and johnny kavanagh quotes in binding 13

“When Johnny stretched his legs out on top of the coffee table, I waited for a good ten minutes before attempting to do the same, only to fail epically when my toes barely touched the corner before clattering to the floor. Chuckling softly, Johnny reached forward and dragged the table closer to the couch. Embarrassed, I kept my feet firmly on the ground. Less than a minute later, Johnny reached over, lifted my legs, and placed them on the table. I turned to look at him, but his attention was back on the screen.”

“By the end of the match, our shoulders were touching. I didn’t move away. He was big and solid and warm and I liked the feel of him beside me. A little while later, when my eyes began to droop, he lifted his arm, and I didn’t even flinch when it came down around my shoulder. Instead, I nestled my cheek against his side and closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift off to sleep without an ounce of fear in my heart because it couldn’t exist inside of me, not when this boy had his arm around me.”

“Shh," I whispered when she whimpered in her sleep. I didn’t even try and stop myself from stroking her hair. I was beyond help when it came to her.”

“That's my problem," I bit out. "I like her, Gibs. I think I really like her, man. Like really as in a lot. A lot more than fucking like. Christ!”

“I know I should have walked away, but I didn’t. I put her in my car and we talked – for hours. And not just about rugby, Gibs. About all random, pointless bullshit that should have bored me to tears. It didn’t. It was just like that day when I knocked her out and I spent an hour outside Twomey's office talking to her, except better because she was in her full senses. She is so goddamn easy to talk to, Gibs. Like you wouldn’t believe." I released a heavy sigh and said, "I didn’t want to let her go, lad.”

“I knew I needed to drop her home, but I couldn’t, Gibs. I fucking couldn’t. So I took her to the bleeding cinema instead. I just…needed more time with her, you know? Like, it wasn’t enough. I needed more…"

"More?" He cocked a brow. "More of what, Johnny?"

"More of her," I replied glumly. "It's all more when it comes to her." I shook my head and sighed heavily. "Jesus, I want her so fucking bad I can't think straight, Gibs.”

“Nice catch," I finally breathed, looking up at his face with a mixture of shock and admiration, as he held my entire body up with one hand.

His lips twitched. "Thanks."

"Well, you're definitely better at catching than throwing.”

“You think I'd let anyone hurt you?" Johnny finally asked, his eyes dark and intense and focused solely on my face. "You think I'd let anything bad happen to you, Shannon like the river?"

I stared up at him, unsure of what to say and uncertain of my feelings. When I didn’t respond, Johnny released a low growl and shook his head, causing droplets of rain to spray my face.

"Because I won't," he answered his own question by saying. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you," he added, blue eyes dark and locked on mine. "Because I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“He's done a terrible job of keeping you quiet." Mrs. Kavanagh added with a smile. "I saw you in the papers with him the other week. Beautiful picture, love. You two look absolutely stunning together.”

“Come on, it's okay," I coaxed, retracing my steps. "I'll look after you."

And then I took her hand in mine and led her up the staircase, knowing this was a terrible fucking idea, but resigned to doing it anyway. I was so completely fucked.”

“And being here with Johnny was a good kind of terrifying. I wanted to be here with him. I wanted him, period.”

“You play GTA?" I asked then, eyeing the PlayStation box on the floor with excitement.

"Yeah." Johnny eyed me curiously, "Do you?"

I nodded. "I'm awesome."

He cocked a brow. "Is that so?”

"Uh-huh. Joey has Vice City and San Andreas and I've cleared both games."

His brows shot up.

"In a week."

His mouth fell open. "No."

"Oh yeah. I'm the best."

Johnny tilted his head to one-side, giving me a curious smile. "Do you want to play a game?"

I smirked. "If you want?"

He grinned. "You think you're that good?"

"I know I am," I replied, and for once in my life, I had the confidence to say that.”

“If you want me to –"

"Sit your ass down, little Lynch, so I can beat you," Johnny interrupted me, tone laced with amusement. I sank onto one of the bags and gave him my best you're going down expression.”

“Are you a sore loser, Mister I'm A Big Rugby Star?"

Johnny's face turned a hilarious shade of red.

"Don’t you like it when a girl beats you? Can't you take your beating like a man?"

"You are so lucky you're a girl right now,"

"Why? Do you prefer losing to boys?"

"Give me that fucking controller," Johnny growled and then pounced on me. "The power's going to your head."

"No!" I scream/laughed, twisting onto my side to protect the controller. "I'm not finished–Ahhhh!"

"Give it to me," Johnny laughed as he tried to slip his hand under my arm.

"Never," I declared through fits of laughter. "It's mine – stop, please – Ahhhh, I'm ticklish–”

“We were in the middle of something here."

She gave him a hard stare. "In the middle of what?"

I waved the controller at her. "I beat him at PlayStation."

"No," Johnny corrected. "She didn’t beat me at anything –" Johnny paused to glare at me, "You haven't won yet –" and then turned back to his mother and added, "She just pushed the bar out."

"To space," I mumbled under my breath.

"I heard that," he shot back, smirking.

Mrs. Kavanagh looked between us and then beamed. "He's a terrible loser, isn’t he?"

"I am fucking not!"

"I know," I giggled.”

#shannon lynch #johnny kavanagh #johnnyshannon #johnnyshannon quotes #boysoftommen #binding 13 #binding13

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brisbookmark · 3 years

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The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head.

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound.

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now.

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her.

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all.

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again.

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother,

No, he couldn’t.

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again.

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her.

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already.

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth.

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar.

No. Please, anything but that.

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries.

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again.

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones.

"Wrong!"

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult.

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried.

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths.

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting.

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain,

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway.

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes.

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for.

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all.

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him.

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!"

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness.

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this?

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck.

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A.

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting.

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it.

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing.

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball.

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go.

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer.

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him.

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder.

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared.

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever.

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him.

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old.

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness.

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay.

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close.

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like.

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear.

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up.

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters.

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running.

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement.

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!"

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause.

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster.

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle.

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities.

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men.

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm.

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar.

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd.

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room.

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again.

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes.

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd imagines #red hood x reader #red hood #dc #batfam #batfam x reader #jason todd hcs #redhood hcs #arkham knight #titans #titans jason

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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Text

Defender, Protector, Keeper (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This is one of those things I write that should have a first part but.... It doesn’t.... I do plan on making more within this little.... world??? With this mom!reader and her son Ben. So sorry for this mess.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, nothing out of canon, Micah is mean to children, mute child (is that a warning?) fluff, Arthur being a father figureish thing, soft Arthur, I don’t know what else to tag, blood? it’s all canon to the game

Summary: Arthur steps in to help you with your son after a run in with Micah.

***

“Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N!”

You moved out of the tent upon hearing Mrs. Grimshaw calling your name.

“Right here, Mrs. Grimshaw.”

“There you are. Where is that boy of yours?” She looked around as if trying to peek into the tent. I’ve got a little chore for him and Jack.”

“He was just in here helping me with laundry, but he wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.” You turned to go into the tent. “Ben? Mrs. Grimshaw needs your help.”

Ben, your five-year-old son, put the clothing in his hand down and looked at you.

“Come on with me, Ben. I’ve already got Jack over by the woods.” Susan gestured for him to follow her.

“What are the boys going to do?” You asked her.

“Help Lenny and Sean pick some firewood. The little fellas ain’t gonna pick nothin’ but some small kindling. The fellas– Well, Lenny won’t let the boys hurt themselves.”

You fought the urge to volunteer to follow your son. It was just little kindling sticks and twigs. It wasn’t like they were going to chop down entire trees.

Susan, sensing your hesitation, stopped just at the edge of your tent.

“They aren’t going far into the woods at all, Y/N. Charles and Bill are on guard duty and Sean and Lenny are going to be with them. Nothin’s gonna happen to those boys.” She assured you.

You nodded your head, reaching down to run your fingers over Ben’s hair.

“Go on and help Mrs. Grimshaw, Ben.”

He silently followed alongside her.

You continued to fold laundry until it was finished. Once that was complete, you decided to go out and see if there was anything else around camp you could help with.

It seemed to be a rather mellow evening. No one was out doing any jobs nor was anyone talking about any jobs, which was a rarity. In the three months that you had been staying with the Van Der Linde Gang, you had quickly realized their lifestyle was fast paced and there was almost always something to do.

You made your way over towards the tent the girls in camp stayed in.

“Hi, Y/N.” Tilly greeted you first. She was reading a book.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mary-Beth was also reading. Karen sat on a chair next to the two singing. “You wanna sit with us for a bit? You’ve been working hard all day.”

“That’s okay, Mary-Beth. I think I should go see if Ben is doing okay with Sean and Lenny.” You looked around towards the woods.

“What’s he doing with those two fools?” Tilly put her book down in her lap.

“Mrs. Grimshaw had him and Jack helping them with firewood.”

“Last I saw, Lenny and Sean were sitting over by the fire.”

A knot began to form in your stomach. Why hadn’t your son returned to you?

You moved to search for Lenny and Sean, but they proved to be easy to find. They were sitting at a fire with a few other gang members.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You cut off Sean. “Where is Ben at?”

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N.” Lenny gave you a charming smile. “Ben and Jack went over towards John and Abigail’s tent. Jack said they were going to play.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers.”

***

You did indeed find your son at John and Abigail’s tent. He sat outside of it with Jack. Jack was talking about some sort of story that Hosea had told him about a bear while your little Benny just kept playing with his half of the deck of cards.

“Y/N.”

You looked up to Abigail.

“Hi, Abigail.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Jack brought Ben over. I know Susan had them working earlier.”

“I don’t mind.” You shook your head, smiling. You crossed your arms as you watched Ben. Jack didn’t seem to care that Ben was silent and wasn’t responding to him. Jack had learned since you both arrived at camp that talking wasn’t something Ben did, so he usually did all of the talking for Jack. You were thankful for this. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how young Jack would react to your quiet son.

“Do you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?” Abigail asked. “I don’t usually get much down time, but neither do you. You’re always running around.”

“Have to keep busy, you know.” You chuckled a little. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The both of you got your drinks and then sat down at a table not too far from the boys.

“They grow like weeds.” She thought out loud, shaking her head softly. “I’m gonna have to get Jack some new clothes soon. He’s about to be too big for nearly all the pants he’s got. Maybe Ben could fit into what Jack can’t wear. Ben is a little thing. That way you don’t have to go out and waste money. I mean, the clothes aren’t perfect. Jack has needed them patched more than once. But they work.”

“That’s very kind of you, Abigail. Thank you.”

She gave you a smile.

“Momma! Momma!” Jack called as he ran over to Abigail.

Ben rushed up to you, a smile on his lips. His hair fell into his face and he tried to wipe it out of his eyes but he didn’t do too good of a job.

“Hi, love.” You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded, looking over to Jack.

“Momma, can we go give Sean his cards back?”

“Where is Sean at?” Abigail asked, looking around the camp.

“He’s just on the other side of camp at one of the other fires.” You told her, recalling where you had seen him earlier.

“If Miss Y/L/N says that Ben can go, then yes. You can. But you have to ask her.”

Ben tugged on your skirt as if to ask you.

“Miss Y/L/N! Can we take Sean his cards?” Jack waved the stack of cards around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll race you over there!”

You watched as Jack took off first with Ben just behind him.

“I’m glad Jack finally has someone to play with and keep him company.” Abigail smiled.

“They get along so well.” You nodded. “I was a little…. worried at first, if I’m honest.”

“Oh really?”

“Just because…. Well, sometimes it’s hard for Ben.”

Abigail nodded her head understandingly.

“He’s a sweet boy, Y/N. You raised him well.”

“Thank you-,”

“You dumb little rat! Watch where you’re going next time!”

You stood up upon hearing the sound of shouting. Feeling the urge to find out what had happened, you ventured across camp until you found your son and Micah Bell. Micah had a hold of Ben’s arm and was holding him at an awkward angle.

“When someone speaks to you, little boy, you’re supposed to answer them!”

“Micah!” You raised your voice.

Micah turned his head to look at you but didn’t let your son’s arm go.

Anger bubbled in your veins.

“Ah, the whore. Maybe someone better teach this boy manners before he ends up worse than his ma.”

You pushed against Micah’s chest. Ben was crying at this point, trying to grab onto your skirt anywhere he could but Micah was finding amusement in pulling the boy away from you.

“Micah! Get your hands off of that boy!” Abigail shouted.

The next few moments happened all too quickly for you to know what exactly happened. But Micah released Ben and he fell backwards to the ground. Your hand flew up to smack him and you landed a nice hit on his cheek, but he was quicker than you and far more skilled in fighting so the backhand to your cheek came out of seemingly nowhere.

You took a few steps back to keep from falling flat on your ass. You ended up hitting something solid. A hand found your side and another your arm.

It was Arthur Morgan. He only took a couple seconds to make sure you were steady on your feet before moving around you to deliver two punches to Micah. The nasty man fell back as blood began to pour out of his nose.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Abigail rushed to one side of you and Mary-Beth came to the other.

You didn’t answer them. You only pushed them away to get to your son.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat in the dirt where he had fallen.

There was a hand on your wrist that stopped you just before you could get to him.

Arthur turned you back around to face him. You pulled against him, wanting desperately to get to your son.

“You’ve got blood on ya, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, using his thumb to wipe away the little bit of blood from your busted lip. “He don’t need to see that.”

“Th-Thank you.” You whispered.

“Can I pick him up? Move him somewhere else for you?”

You nodded.

Arthur let you go and moved towards Ben.

“Come here, Benny. You alright?”

Ben nodded his head, shyly tucking his face into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur took him to a table and sat him down on it, then pulled out a chair for you. But you couldn’t sit down just yet. You had to make sure he was okay.

Your hands cupped his face and tilted his head up so you could check him over for any marks.

“Are you okay, love? Does anything hurt?”

He held up his hands to you, showing that his palms were scraped up and bleeding a little. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering.

“I’ll get somethin’ to clean those up, Y/N.” Mary-Beth spoke, moving towards Strauss’s wagon.

Upon seeing the scratches and bleeding scrapes from Ben falling back and catching himself on his hands, anger welled up inside of Arthur.

He turned and started to make his way towards Micah.

“Arthur! Arthur Morgan!” Abigail called after him, but she couldn’t stop him herself. “John! Mr. Smith! Please!”

You couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with Arthur right now. Ben was important and took priority.

You brushed his hair back and sat down in front of him.

“I’m so sorry you got hurt, love.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around your neck, careful not to touch you with his injured hands, and then slid down into your lap.

A few moments later, Mary-Beth returned with a bowl of water and a few rags. Tilly was with her too, helping to carry bandages.

“Are you alright, Benji?” Tilly asked. He nodded his head without lifting it from your chest. “He didn’t get too hurt by that nasty Micah, did he?”

“Think it just spooked him more than anything.” You answered her. “Thank you, girls.”

The items were placed on the table and then they left.

“Ben, I need you to sit on the table so I can reach you, love.”

He shook his head.

“We’ve got to get these scratches cleaned up, okay? We don’t want them to get yucky.”

A hand found your shoulder. You looked to see Arthur moving around your chair.

“Lemme give ya some help. That way Benny can stay on your lap where he’s comfortable.”

You nodded your head, giving him a little smile as a thank you.

“Hey, Benny? Can I see your hands?”

Benny shifted around on your lap so that he could easily face Arthur. He gave Arthur one hand.

“This might sting just a bit, but I promise it’ll be over soon.”

Arthur got a rag wet and began to clean the dirt and little bit of blood from Ben’s small palm.

“You’re a strong fella, Benny. You know that?”

Ben sniffled.

“I heard you helped Sean and Lenny with getting firewood. Did you carry all the big logs by yourself?”

A little grin tugged at your son’s lips. He shook his head.

Once he was cleaned up and Arthur had carefully wrapped up his hands, Ben looked around for Jack. He was with Hosea. The two weren’t very far away at all. Ben shimmied down from your lap but stayed by you. His eyes were focused on Jack. He wanted to go play with his friend.

“You can go on, love.” You told him. He flashed you a little toothy smile before taking off in the direction of Hosea and Jack.

Arthur stayed on his knees beside you for a few moments, watching Ben go. He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head.

“That bastard is lucky I don’t put a bullet in him.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head.

“Ben is okay, Arthur.” You turned your head to look at him. “He just…. He was just shaken up a bit. But he’s okay.”

“He hit you too. No man should ever treat a lady like that.”

You admired his words, the way he viewed things.

A little smile came to your lips and you watched him sit down next to you.

“Well, Mr. Morgan. Not everyone has the same ideals as you.”

Arthur shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. He was still worked up over the situation.

“It’ll be okay, Arthur.” You reached over to place your hand on his. “I can take a hit just fine. But I do appreciate you stepping in. It was really kind of you to help clean up Ben.”

He became a bit sheepish at your words, tipping his head down so you couldn’t see his eyes completely thanks to the brim of his hat. He cleared his throat.

“Just-Just hate seein’ the little guy cry is all.”

You smiled a bit and gave his hand a squeeze before moving away from the table he sat at.

Arthur watched you leave, then turned his head to watch the two youngest members of the gang with Hosea. Hosea was telling a story while Jack and Ben listened.

Arthur turned his head back to see where you had gone off to. You were standing with Abigail near Pearson’s tent. Abigail said something that caused you to look at Arthur, a smile pulling at your lips then you looked back at her, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. It was a poor attempt to hide a giggle.

Arthur fixed the hat on his head and decided to go towards his horse.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Charles spoke from his horse. He was messing with a strap of Taima’s saddle.

“Tell her what?”

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m not oblivious to it, Arthur. I don’t think any of us in camp are.”

“To what?”

“That you fancy her.”

Arthur mounted his horse, shifting around in the saddle a bit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Smith.” He adjusted his hat.

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“You wanna come with me? Or keep standing there goin’ on about it?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan x reader fluff #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

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mviswidow · 3 years

Text

5 times Natasha defended you and 1 time you defended her

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: cursing, R gets shot at, blood

Prompt: i love the trope of “The 5 times Natasha ____, and the 1 time Y/N _____” so maybe one about the times nat defended/protected you (could be like someone spoke ill of reader) and the one time you did?

“She’s insane for putting her on the team! Y/l/n is a horrible agent, she barely even -“

“She barely even what?” Nat interrupted, leaned against the wall in the entrance of the kitchen, with an eyebrow quirked up and her arms crossed.

“Agent Romanoff, we were just-“ The agent who had spoken originally started to come up with some bullshit response, but was once again interrupted by Natasha.

“Questioning my judgement? Shitting on the only agent from your class to become an Avenger?” She challenged, and his friends were avoiding her gaze like the plague.

The agent shook his head, “No ma’am, I’m sorry, won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You’re all on cleaning duty for the next month.”

—

“You can’t make excuses for her, Natasha,” Tony yelled. “She isn’t a child, she’s a full grown adult. This was her fault.”

Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I’m not making excuses for anyone, Tony. She’s new, what the hell do you want from her? All of us have made mistakes before, Wanda did when she was new to the team,” She said, gesturing to the witch. “So have you and I, so what’s your problem?”

You shifted uncomfortably when Tony glared at you, “He’s right, Natasha. I won't let it happen again, guys. I’m sorry.”

You started to leave but Nat grabbed your arm and pulled you back to stand beside her, “Stay, we aren’t done yet.”

—

Two shots into the bullet proof vest you were wearing sent you backwards and to the floor. When you landed on the ground, the air in your lungs was knocked out of you, leaving you winded, “Fuck.”

“Y/n!” Nat shouted at you to get your attention and slid a gun she was keeping in her tactical belt your way on the floor so you could shoot at the HYDRA agent coming your way.

—

Going on undercover missions with Natasha was probably one of your favorite type of missions. You really enjoyed spending time with her, she was great company, and you always got on well. You also worked really well together, you always watched each other’s back and communicated excellently.

This time, however, you’d been made when you showed your ID to the bartender of the bar you were at. It was way too late into the night and luckily there weren’t a lot of people there, but Natasha had gone to the bathroom while you said you’d get drinks and you were left alone, totally screwed.

When the man recognized his name, he shouted to his friends in another language and a fight had broken out with you in the middle of four men, trying to fend them all off.

You’d managed to take care of one of them, but you were having trouble with the other three. The bartender punched you in the face and you stumbled backwards, giving one of his friends enough time to kick you in the gut. The other laughed as you struggled to stand back upright.

Their premature victory was cut short when Natasha threw a chair down on the ground, breaking it so she could take one of the legs, and made quick work of them. You were able to help her since she was multitasking and taking care of two of the men, you were left with the other, which was an easy feat.

When all four of them were on the floor, Nat put her hands on her hips and huffed, “Christ, I just wanted a damn drink.”

You snickered, “We can still get drinks, Natasha.” She smirked and looked up from them lying on the ground to you and frowned before walking towards you and tilted your face up, “You’re bleeding.”

You cleared your throat when you realized how close she was standing and backed up to walk over to the bar and grab a napkin, “It’s no big deal, doesn’t hurt.”

—

After being thrown into a car by one of the Ultron Sentries at the edge of Sokovia where you’d been helping civilians out of their cars, there was a loud ringing in your ear and you were having a hard time focusing on what you were doing.

You lifted your head up from the now broken windshield to see it approaching, but the impact of hitting the car had made you too dizzy to keep it up.

You were expecting to be shot at or something, but when nothing happened, you groaned loudly and slowly lifted yourself up to see Natasha fighting the sentry with Cap’s shield.

—

You ran through the corridors of the SHIELD base as fast as your feet could carry you. You were going against the crowd, but you were doing your best to push people out of your way.

Natasha was currently interrogating a prisoner, per Fury’s request, but the base was being evacuated due to a bomb threat. The walls of the interrogation rooms were very thick, so no sound could get in or out, and half of the security functions were down, including alarms and comms, so the only way to get to her was by doing it yourself.

People were yelling at you, some of your colleagues tried to grab you, but you would be damned if Natasha died because no one had thought to tell her what was happening.

You reached the only interrogation room that was locked and grabbed your keys to unlock it with shaky hands.

You opened the door to see Natasha standing over some man with a knife pressed to his face and she turned her head to see you and glared, “I’m in the middle of something, you’re not supposed to interr-”

“Shut up, there’s a bomb, let’s go.”

She took her gun and shot the guy in the head before hurrying out the door that you were holding open, and when she saw the look you were giving her, she said, “I was supposed to kill him anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, pushed her forward, and started running. Luckily, her interrogation room wasn’t too far from an exit and would probably take you guys less than a minute to reach.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a loud crash and turned to see something had fallen through the roof, which you could only assume was the bomb when you heard beeping coming from behind you.

You started to run faster and pulled her hard by the arm, throwing the door open and dragging her out.

The bomb exploded, and since it wasn’t very far away, the explosion caused both of you to go flying forward. You kept hold of her the best you could, but when you hit the ground you started to roll, so you had to let go.

“Y/n?” Nat called.

“I’m fine,” You groaned before coughing into the ground.

You turned onto your back and after a few seconds, saw Natasha’s face above yours. Her warm hand was on your forearm, trying to get you to sit up, “I owe you one.”

You chuckled and shook your head but let her pull you up, “Nah, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can probably count, it’s only fair.”

She bit the inside of her lip and smiled softly, “Do something for me then?”

Your brow furrowed but you nodded, “Sure.”

Her eyes flicked down to your lips before going back up to your eyes, and you saw the look on her face as she inched closer to you, as if she was asking for permission.

You smiled and cupped her cheek with one of your hands before leaning forward and kissing her tenderly, heart fluttering when you heard the soft sounds coming from her as you brought yourself into her lap to kiss her better.

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wearywinchester · 3 years

Text

Patience

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean takes care of you after a rough hunt.

Requested by Anonymous: May I please request dean taking care of the reader after she had a surgery after a rough hunt?? I would love to see how he helps her while she's recovering. I can already imagine being overly protective and being adorable and cute and all worried

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: injuries, blood, angst, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

The hunt went rough, not as bad as others had been in your years of hunting, but enough to land you in the hospital with a concussion and the need for stitches not even Dean could handle himself. He was a nervous wreck the two days you’d spent there, he’d never admit it but he was. When you’d first woken up, you were too tired to do more than open your eyes the slightest bit to find your beau with his head resting against his arm, hand heavy in yours as his eyes focused on the tv in the corner of the room. You recalled his leg bouncing the way it does when he’s worked up about something, offering your hand the occasional squeeze.

Once he’d seen you were awake, it had really started to show no matter how he tried to play it off. Dean Winchester was a worrier for everyone but himself. He was too afraid to lay down next to you just in case he might have jostled you around too much, he didn’t want to make anything worse. Despite that, he’d still been brooding a bit, sulking in his seat as he held your hand and thought he’d been the biggest idiot to let that spirit snag you like that. He didn’t even want you on the hunt in the first place, but you were you and you’d insisted on going. He was never one to hold you back on what you wanted to do but he certainly wished he did just that once.

Now, you were spending the next few days at Jodie’s cabin tucked away in the woods. She’d joined in on the case since she was in town, and there was no arguing your way out of staying with her to let you recover for a few days, not that you minded either. Her cabin was always one you were thrilled to stay in whenever there was time to stay, so talking you into doing so was simple as ever.

Dean was tangled up in worry, not ten minutes going by before he asked if you needed anything. The sight of you in pain made his jaw tense and his cheeks to burn a soft shade of pink because it tore him up to see you struggle. It tore him up that it was something he felt could have been prevented had he done something different. But he kept it to himself, having pushed it to the corners of his mind to torment himself with later once you’re comfortable and at ease.

You, on the other hand, were as frustrated as ever. No matter how much you loved and appreciated Dean’s efforts and his concerns, your independence was wearing away at you. It took everything in you not to burst into tears over the simple fact that you couldn’t drive for the time being, let alone take a shower unaided over the risk of you falling and doing more harm than good. The inconveniences were piling up, a new one being discovered seemingly every other minute.

It was building up; the frustration and desire to do things on your own just as they had been before this all happened was picking at you. So much so, the littlest things were rapidly beginning to irritate you, leaving you to be aggravated and on the brink of tears when something so little as dropping something or not being able to reach something had pushed your limits.

It was nothing Dean had done, not even a little. He was being as generous and helpful as he always was despite the way you could be grumpy. The thought alone was enough to calm you some, but not every time.

This time you’d finally done it.

You found yourself in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge after you’d insisted to Dean that you could handle it on your own. Bobby and Donna had been over, followed by Benny and Charlie and Garth. It was a little get together out back by the lake. It was fun, it was relaxing, it was a nice little break from hunting.

Until now.

You spun on your heel just a little faster than your body could keep up with, your balance wavering and leaving you to stumble into the edge of the countertop before you had the chance to catch yourself. You let out a strangled yelp as the unforgiving corner had jabbed into your side, your gasp sharp as you turned away in fear of it happening again. The bottles in your hand clattered to the floor and broke, beer seeping out in a wet puddle of broken glass. The quick steps distinctive to Dean’s boots had sounded as your hands guarded your side, and it wasn’t until Dean had rushed in that you noticed. It wasn’t until his eyes landed on your side, wide and concerned that you’d noticed.

When you looked down your shirt was beginning to stain a fresh and startling shade of scarlet, hands smudging the very same color across your skin in a matter of moments.

“Sweetheart, what happe—”

“I got it, Dean,” you rush, grabbing the towel sitting nearby, frustration simmering in your stomach as you try not to think about the tears pressing behind your eyes.

“Y/n, you’re bleeding. Let me help you.”

“I said I got it!” You say, louder as you push his hands away. His gaze lifts to yours, a bit taken back as he stands a little straighter from his spot in front of you. It wasn’t your anger or your tone that he cared about, what bothered him was the tears glossing over your eyes and the quiver in your lip. It was the way your brows furrowed as those very tears spilled over heated cheeks. The way your words faltered under the pressure of those tears. “I got it. I’m—I’m fine.”

Your voice was fragile and entirely telling of how very not fine you were. You’d let your anger get the better of you and that only made everything worse, your fists clenching as your cheeks burned.

“Sweetheart,” he says, soft as ever as he steals your attention. You look at him after a moment, averting your gaze just as quickly to hide your tears. “Why don’t you let me take a look at that, okay?”

Your jaw tenses as you nod, the towel still clutched ever so tightly within your palm as you dropped your hand to your side, heart pounding in your chest. He was gentle as he peeled back your shirt and the bandage underneath it, the stitches in your side still having been intact though they were angry and they were red, the wound still more than sensitive as it bled lightly from impact. You were embarrassed as you stood there, guilt eating at you for snapping at the man in front of you when your anger should have stayed directed at yourself.

He was gentle as he snagged the towel from your hands, stepping over the mess on the floor to wet the towel at the sink. He grabbed the first aid kit from one of the cupboards too, setting it down and opening it a while.

The heat in your cheeks had continued to burn as you looked away from his gaze, lip quivering as your eyes clouded and blurred once more at the mere thought of everything that just happened in the span of two minutes.

It wasn’t long before you felt the coolness of the towel against your stomach, relief washing over the irritated skin as he wiped away the blood that had formed over it.

“You okay?” He asks, calm and kind as he pauses.

It wasn’t until you nodded that he continued, setting the dirtied towel off to the side as he grabbed a fresh bandage. You let your gaze fall to him in that moment, watching as his tongue poked out in concentration as he smoothed the bandage securely over your stitches. He didn’t look angry at your outburst, he didn’t look annoyed, not even a little bit. You felt you deserved some of that but it never came. He was patient and kind. He may have been a little rough around the edges sometimes, and he may have been a grump others. But he was also tender and caring, and it only made guilt tug at your heart.

He stood upright when he finished, flashing you a smile as he grabbed your hand and tugged you off to the spare bedroom the two of you shared while you stayed there. You watched quietly as he rifled through his duffle bag without much care about everything that spilled out of it in the current moment. He was in search of the one thing that was sure to bring a smile to your face.

“Aha!” He cheered when he caught sight of it, snagging the shirt from the bottom of his bag.

It was an old t shirt of his, tattered and torn in spots, one that always smelled of his cologne even if it’d faded some. It was your favorite shirt of his and that was something he very well knew even if you thought he wasn’t aware of it. Little did you know he brought it in his bag on every hunt no matter what should you need a pick-me-up, should you need an extra push of comfort. He’ll always bring it.

The very corners of your mouth quirked up and the softest grin, his own having widened. “There’s that smile.”

You flash him a look as you fight to stifle the way that very smile was growing, but you couldn’t find it in you to last all of two seconds trying. You snag the shirt from his outstretched hand and move to peel off your own, and no matter how much Dean had wanted to help you, just to keep that wince from appearing on your face, he lets you do it on your own because he knows how much it meant to you to have to be able to do something on your own while you recovered.

Your shoulders slump once you put it on, smile fading once more when you look at him and his brows furrow slightly in a silent question of what’s the matter.

After a moment or two or you mind racing a mile a minute of just how you should apologize, just how you should make it up to him, you finally make up your mind on the only way you know how to do that. And after a moment or two you lean on your toes and press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet as your hands squeeze his.

“‘M sorry,” you whisper against his lips, the guilt of snapping at him still heavy in your heart.

He chuckles softly, forehead pressed to his as his nose bumps against yours. He steals a few more quick kisses, his smile still very much there.

“Sweetheart, do you know how many times I’ve been a pain in the ass when I was hurt?” He said, pulling back to look at you. He kisses away your frown the moment he sees it, his hand coming up to swipe away the stray tear on your face. “You don’t have to be sorry for bein’ frustrated, and even if you were a pain I’d still take care of you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek but he sees your smile anyway. “You’re terrible at accepting apologies, you know.”

“Or maybe you’re just terrible at givin’ them,” he jests, laughing out when you swat his shoulder. “‘M kidding!”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” you sigh, smiling up at him as you shake your head.

“But seriously, sweetheart, cleaning up a couple of beers ain’t gonna kill me. I promise. Besides, I didn’t like that brand anyway.”

Your eyes roll and a laugh falls past your lips, lips he dipped down to kiss more than a couple times more in that moment. You knew that wasn’t going to be the last of your apologies that day because you still felt bad and he knew that. But for now you’d settle for the smile he’d always put on your face because no matter what, he’d be there in a heartbeat with all the patience in the world.

Through thick and thin, attitude and all, he would be there.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Five

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Injuries,

Word Count: 3.2K

A/n: here we are, folks. What if I ended it like this lol that would be kinda gangsta of me LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

You push open the front door with a heavy sigh, setting the paper grocery bags down on the counter then resting a hand on your growing belly.

There’s a tiny flutter under your hand and you can’t help yourself from smiling.

The smile vanishes, however, when a hand grabs at your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Where the Hell were you?” Steve’s angry voice demands.

You look up at him in shock and confusion, looking over at the groceries.

“I-I just went to the store.”

He shakes his head, grabbing your face with one hand and stepping closer. You take a step back with each one he takes towards you, and soon enough he’s got you pinned against the wall.

His grip on your face tightens and you wince, fear overwhelming your body, making your heart race.

“Bucky said he saw you talking to someone. A man. Who was he?”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“H-He was just asking me about my pregnancy. When I'm due, if I know what I’m having.”

It’s nothing but the truth.

“I give you freedom and this is what you do? You go and flirt with other guys? You’re my property. Don’t forget that.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks and into his hand, but he doesn't let go. Even as your chest heaves and sobs bubble out of you, he stays glaring at you.

“Please, Steve, stop. Y-You’re hurting me!”

His jaw flexes and he slowly lets go, only to cage you against the wall, slamming his fist against it in the process.

Your heart hammers in your chest, terror gripping you and freezing you in place as you remember what he did to Nat and her baby.

“I-I came home, didn’t I? I could’ve asked for help! Could’ve said something, but I didn’t. I’m here, again, even though I could’ve run away. I’m here. You have me! You have me.”

You slide down the wall, knees drawn up to your chest as you sob, the reality of your words and the fear doing a number on your emotions.

Steve’s anger slowly melts away, replaced with concern as he sees nothing but terror on your face.

“I-I didn’t mean to yell, honey. It’s okay, shh, come here.”

You don’t fight him as he pulls you into his arms and brings you upstairs into your bedroom, sitting you gently on the bed and pushing your hair away from your face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart I just... You gotta understand how nervous it makes me when you leave the house like that.”

You sniffle then slowly look up at him, your eyes bloodshot and tear-filled.

“Then why give me the freedom to leave?”

Your voice cracks and it makes his heart hurt.

“I... I want to trust you. That’s why.”

You take a few deep breaths, your eyes focused on your trembling hands as your heart starts to slow back to its normal rhythm.

“Ever since that night when Nat and Buck came over you’ve... you’ve been off. I’m worried about you, honey. I just wanna make sure that everything’s okay.”

He wants to know what Nat told you. What she said to have you acting like this.

Your eyes meet his, wet and full of fear as you whisper three words.

“Is it true?”

He has an idea what you’re referring to, and his heart picks up speed.

“Did...did you do it?”

He swallows hard and avoids your eyes, but that’s answer enough.

Some strange mixture of a gasp and a sob bubbles out of you, and you bring your hands up to cover your face as your shoulders start shaking again.

“I didn’t... I guess I did.” You sniffle and look up at him through your tears.

“If you want me to trust you... if you ever want any hope at having some semblance of normalcy, you’re gonna need to elaborate. I’m trying to play your little game but I just... I’m scared you’re gonna kill my baby too. That you’re gonna hurt Sarah.”

He shakes his head immediately, grabbing your hands and holding them softly in his.

“I would never hurt Sarah, or our new baby, okay? Natasha... she was becoming a liability. That being said, I didn’t go into it with the intention of hurting her baby but... I knew it could be a consequence.”

You wait for him to continue, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“When you burned the book... that wasn’t the only copy. Fury made sure there was at least one more, in case we ever needed it. Had his own group working on it, creating a new version of it. Natasha became a test subject long before I met you. Before I... took you.”

He drops his eyes and huffs out a sigh.

“We didn’t need to wipe her memory, we just... needed a way to make her more complacent. To make her realize that she can’t go off on her own and keep secrets like that. Especially when they involve you.”

Your chest heaves as you glare at him, your anger growing by the second.

“Did you kill her baby?”

The words are harsh like the crack of a whip, and he has to stop himself from flinching.

“It wasn’t my intention... but it was worth it.”

You choke on another sob, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“I didn’t know what the tea would do to her baby. It was just a mild sedative so we could get her to the facility and do the procedure. Get her to tell us where you were, where Sarah was. But then she... she started bleeding. I didn’t... I thought maybe it was just a side effect but then the doctors told us... (Y/n), you’ve gotta believe me. You need to know that I didn’t mean to...” he trails off and shakes his head, thinking about the niece or nephew that he could’ve had.

The son or daughter that he stripped Bucky of. The pain he inflicted upon Natasha. But he has you, so in the end, it was worth it.

You slowly look up at him, shaking your head.

“Why? You’ve done nothing but lie to me and hurt me. Why should I believe a word you’re saying?”

He swallows hard, reaching for your hand again only for you to yank it away once more.

“You want the truth? Fine. You’re not the first person that we’ve... taken. And I doubt you’ll be the last. Bucky... he had someone. Someone to help him control the soldier. But she turned out to be worse than him. We had to terminate her because she became a liability.”

He looks down at his hands, remembering how innocent she seemed. And then she snapped. Tried killing Nat and Bucky. Turned the redhead against them until Fury stepped in.

“Nat didn’t... agree with what we did. So we changed her mind.”

Your brows draw together in confusion.

He can’t mean... can he?

As if sensing your confusion, he elaborates.

“We didn’t do exactly the same procedure. But it... its function was the same. We needed her to forget certain things. To be our friend again while still remembering other things about the situation. And it worked. All I wanted to do this time was open her up to us again. Tell me where you and Sarah were. I never meant to hurt her baby.”

You shake your head furiously, tears dripping down your cheeks. “You’re a murderer. A disgusting monster. I hate you.” Your words are venomous and acidic, and Steve almost flinches at them, shaking his head.

“That’s not true, (Y/n). I love you.”

You laugh, the sound manic and for a moment Steve’s concerned.

“This isn’t love, Steve, this is obsession! It’s unhealthy! You’ve got me trapped here against my will! Y-You’ve hurt me and raped me and now I’m supposed to pretend everything’s okay? I’m supposed to play the good little housewife while you go around kidnapping and killing women? Killing other people’s children?! No!”

You stand up and try to move past him but he grabs hold of your forearm, rising to his feet with you.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes are fiery as he glares at you, but you’re not nearly as afraid as you once were. No. You’re just angry.

You glare at him, rage burning through your body as you yank free from his grip and walk out of the room.

“You leave this house and I won’t hesitate to drag your ass right back!” He shouts.

But you don’t plan on leaving.

Oh no.

Why does he deserve his happy ending so much more than everyone else?

You turn to face him once you reach the top of the stairs, your heart in your throat at what you’re about to do. The damage it could cause.

At least it’ll get your point across.

“Why do you deserve a baby so much more than Natasha?” He furrows his brows, trying to figure out what your next move is going to be.

“I’ve given my life over and over for this stupid pathetic world. I’ve sacrificed my happiness time and time again. Do I not deserve something good?”

You take a deep breath and shrug.

“Maybe you do. But not like this.”

With that, you turn around and let yourself fall down the stairs.

Steve tries to grab you, he really does, but he’s just not fast enough.

He watches you fall, tumble down the stairs then lay still at the bottom, and for a moment all he can do is stare.

Memories fill his mind. Of you falling down the stairs. Then bleeding. So much blood. And your baby... gone.

He nearly falls down the stairs himself in his haste to get to you, two fingers pressing first to your pulse, then his hand is pressed against your belly, trying desperately to feel for the fluttering kicks you told him about.

It takes a minute, maybe two, and then he feels a small press against his hand.

He lets out a breath of relief then grabs his phone, calling the doctor.

~*~

When the doctor assures him that both you and the baby are okay, he’s relieved. But that only lasts for a moment before anger takes hold, powerful and persistent.

You can feel the anger rolling off of him when you wake up, and for a moment you’re afraid.

But hopefully, you got your point across.

He doesn’t deserve another baby. Not if that’s what he wants. He’s a terrible human being. And bringing a baby into the world with him as the father should be a crime.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping to keep him as calm as possible.

“She’s having a sleepover with Morgan over at Tony and Pepper’s.”

You nod, your stomach dropping as you realize you’re alone in the house with him and he’s beyond pissed off.

Your mind races back to all the times he’s punished you in the past, and you almost throw up with the anxiety coursing through your veins.

“You ever do anything like that again and I swear I’ll make you regret it. I won’t kill you, no. My baby needs his mommy, but I’ll make you hurt. You’re lucky I’m not doing anything to you now.”

You swallow hard and look away from him in disgust, only for him to grab your jaw and force you to look at him.

“You need to stop acting out like this. I told you what happened to the last asset who became a liability. Fury shot her point-blank. A clean shot between her pretty eyes. Then he left her to bleed out on the bedroom floor while he fixed Nat’s memory. S’why she’s even still here and with Bucky. If she remembered what he did to that poor girl... she’d have killed him herself by now. But he needs to outlet to keep the soldier at bay. And he deserves her. Deserves some happiness in his fucked up life.”

You shake your head, disagreeing strongly with every word he’s spoken.

They're monsters. Natasha less so. A victim, like you, maybe. But the two soldiers? Monsters. Monsters who don’t deserve any happiness. They deserve nothing but a slow painful death and an eternity in the fiery pits of Hell.

“I told you, (Y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt her baby. If I’d wanted to, I’d be rubbing it in her face more. Showing off your pregnancy more. And if you think I’m gonna hurt our baby, you’re wrong. I would never hurt my babies. It kills me that you think I’d ever do something like that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve already killed at least one baby.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks and you regret your words.

“You know what? I think you really need a reminder of your place, sweetheart. You’re mine. Maybe not my wife, yet, but soon enough. Until then, you need to know that you belong to me.”

His grip on your face is painful, but you don’t make a single sound.

No, he’s not going to win.

He doesn’t want to hurt the baby or cause unnecessary strain, so he can’t have you on your stomach like he usually would.

So he makes the most of you lying on your back.

He grabs your wrists and binds them above your head, hooking them to the ring on the headboard despite your struggles.

“Steve, no! Please! I-I... Don’t hurt me, please!”

He cocks his head to the side, watching you wriggle and strain.

“You’re mine, (Y/n). You belong to me. There’s no one in this entire world who’ll help you. You’re my property. It’s time you realized that.”

A sick smile spreads across his face as he remembers what made you obedient last time.

“You know, I think I know exactly what you need.”

He climbs off the bed and drops to his knees, rooting under it until he finds his special black box.

You wriggle away furiously, trying to break free before he can hurt you, but deep down you know it’s all for not.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he sits back down on the bed, worming his way between your thighs and flipping your dress up over your extended stomach.

“Please don't,” you whimper uselessly.

He strokes your inner thighs gently, then leans down to spit on your centre.

You flinch away, tears leaking from your eyes as you realize what he’s going to do.

“Please don’t,” you repeat, only to be silenced by him pushing something far too big inside of you.

You cry out, your back arching and sending shoots of pain up to your scalp. The added weight of your baby makes everything ten times more painful, and you can't stop yourself from sobbing as he forces every last inch of the thick dildo into your unprepared cunt.

It burns. Fire spreads from between your legs up your spine and the tears don’t stop.

“Stop! Please! I’ll be good!” He knows you won’t. Or, he just doesn't believe you. You want the pain to stop but you’re not actually willing to change your behaviour for it. Not yet. But you will.

When the dildo is finally fully inside you, he climbs off the bed and shoves the box back underneath it. He adjusts his pants then walks to the door, pausing to look at your trembling figure on the bed.

Your shoulders shake with sobs, and he feels pride swell inside of him.

Good. Now you’ll finally learn.

“You’re gonna stay here until you learn your place. I don’t care how long it takes. When you’re ready to apologize and be a good girl, then we’ll talk. But until then...” He shuts off the light and pulls the door closed behind him, leaving you alone, in pain, and in the dark.

Memories of the last time this happened stab at your brain, and you quickly start hyperventilating.

What’s worse than that, though, is the tiny voice in your head telling you to get off your back. That it’s not good for the baby if you stay like this.

But no matter how much you scream or cry for him, Steve doesn’t come to the door once.

~*~

He leaves you there for hours, or maybe days. It’s so hard to tell.

The room is soundproof, so no one can hear your cries and you can’t hear anything outside.

Even if people could hear you, it doesn’t really matter now.

You’ve been on your back for so long that you’re starting to get dizzy.

During your first pregnancy, you learned only that it’s bad for the baby to sleep on your back. You didn’t think you’d be feeling the effects of it, too.

But here you are, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, mind spinning and lungs struggling to pull in enough air to satisfy you.

It must’ve been several hours ago that Steve left if you’re feeling such strong effects of it. You’re not sure what the technical term is, but you know that you probably don’t have much time left. Your baby has even less.

Your heart aches. Each beat makes sadness bloom in your soul and you can’t stop it.

New tears fall down your cheeks, and all you want is to reach down and caress your belly, apologize to the life growing inside of you.

Apologize for hurting them, for who their father is. For the life you’re bringing them into.

Nobody deserves that.

But now... now you might not have to worry.

Every passing second sends the walls around you spinning faster and faster and faster until all you can do is let your eyes fall closed.

Sleeping will probably make it better anyway, right?

As the darkness creeps up, seeps into your limbs and chases the pain away, you pray.

You’ve never really prayed much before, but you do today.

You send a prayer to any and all Gods, the old ones and the new, and you ask for forgiveness.

You pray for the safety of your unborn child, and for that of Sarah.

A deep part of your brain knows that you may never open your eyes, and you want your daughter to know that you love her. That she means the world to you and you’ll do all that you can to protect her.

Thinking about Sarah brings a wave of strength seemingly out of nowhere, and for a moment you wonder if the Gods heard you. If this is them sending their aid.

You take a few deep breaths, building up as much strength as you can, and try your luck one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as it should be, and the room is so thickly padded that there’s no way he can hear you.

Hopelessness floods your body and you fall into it.

Your sorrow distracts you from the darkness until it takes hold of you and pulls you down, away from the world of pain that you’ve been trapped in.

And you feel peace.

#Dark Series #dark!fic #dark!au #dark!steve #dark!fanfiction #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you #dark Steve rogers #dark steve #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #Steve Rogers x reader dark fic #steve x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

Even When It Hurts (Clark Kent imagine)

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

Words: 2009

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

“Clark, you need to come down, now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I do”

“Then trust me”

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

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

“We’re alright” He reassured her.

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

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

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

He wiped the blood on her mouth with his finger.

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

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

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

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

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

“A .. plan ?” She asked.

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

“Tell me” She murmured.

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

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

“Not if I cauterize the wound”

“How ?”

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

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

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

“Ready ?” He questioned the woman.

“Do it” She said, clenching her teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have conditions” He replied with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

“Name it”

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

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

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

“I love you, Clark”

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

“Thank you” She whispered after a while.

“What for ?”

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

“Always” He promised.

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

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