#keep all the weakers bury the brave ! if i fall will you hold me ? you the psychologist with the blue photo and nuclear vision -

[moralesispunk]

Chapter One - Leaping the Wall

Gif credit @padfootwantsatummyrub​

Masterlist / Next chapter

Summary: You have never struggled with playing the role of a Princess before, walking with your head held high and able to talk to anyone placed in front of you. However, as you walk into the Great Hall and your eyes fall upon a mysterious guard you find yourself forgetting how to do both.

Warnings: none but this (along with the rest of my blog) is 18+

Words count: 3.8k (a shorter chapter to start with!)

A/N: a few of you on the Pero tag from the last fic asked to be moved across to this new fic but if you would like removed just let me know!

The King's hall was the grandest of all the rooms in the castle. Not only was it the largest, fit for balls that could host every lord and lady, baker and blacksmith, farmer and priest in the land, it was also decorated with the shiniest of golds and richest of reds.

With every step you took towards the the platform at the back wall, your shoes clicked loudly from echoing around the room. Your father was sat on the large throne, well suited to the chair that loomed over the rest of the room, sitting tall and confident as he gazed down at you and your brothers.

You had practiced your walk in this room since taking your first steps while your father gave advice to the people of the kingdom. You would come here at least once a week as a young girl, walking the length of the room over and over again as your Lady-in-waiting called to tilt your chin higher and hold your shoulders back further.

You had never understood why your father had wasted so many breaths on telling you that one of the most important things a Princess had to learn was a commanding walk; rolling your eyes as he told your Lady-in-waiting to have you practice another hour. It wasn’t until this very moment when you caught the attention of one of the guards that you were glad for all the hours spent holding your head high. You could feel his eyes on you more than any other in the room, as though his gaze sent a warmth straight to your chest. No matter how hard you forced your eyes to stay forward on your father you could not stop your head from turning towards the guard as he stood behind the throne.

He was a tall man with a chest covered in metal chainlink armour and legs hidden by dark leather trousers. He was the most intimidating man your eyes had ever seen, his hand resting on a sword by his side and eyes following your every movement. His eyes were dark, darker than the jet black hair that covered his head and was scattered across his face in a full moustache and stubble around his jaw. However, his most prominent feature was not his dark eyes or wicked scowl or even his nose that seemed to be carved from the very same stone that built the castle walls but the scar that ran down his left eye. It was a pale pink, weathered and no longer a fresh scar, but it still stood out against his tanned skin.

You almost lost your footing as you kept your eyes on his, the rise and fall of his chest the only proof that he was in fact a man and not a statue of a brave warrior.

When you reached the front of the throne you stopped and forced your eyes towards your father, bending one leg behind the other before you gently curtsied. Awaiting the wave of his hand you felt your breathing get heavier as your head was bent towards the ground, feeling the guard's eyes still on you and burying holes into the back of your neck. You father called your name and you stood back up, taking all your energy to force your eyes towards your father.

"Richard, Robert, you too," he called to your little brothers, although you were not sure you could still call them that as they stood much taller than you did now, "I wish for you to meet my new guards in light of the growing threat against Scotiae. William Garin of Ireland and Pero Tovar of Spain."

Pero.

The Irishman, William, bowed his head to you and your brothers before offering a playful wink and smile as he did so. The Spaniard did not move, his eyes staying on you as your father's hand waved towards him during the introductions.

"Should you have any worries about your protection, you can go to them. Richard, Robert, you are free to go, I have something to talk to your sister about in private." 

Your brothers bowed again, a politeness only used in the presence of others. Behind closed doors your family differed from many other Royal families, especially since your mother had passed. You would hug and tell one another you loved each other. Your father would also let you sit in on your brother’s sword and archery lessons and made them go to your ballroom dancing lessons. He told you that as the eldest you had to know just as much as the men who ran the other Kingdoms and he would smirk at the reaction of whatever Lord was quickly shot down by your quick wit or battle tactics when they dared question them. 

The other guards, minus Pero and William, left the room with your brothers. Once the large wooden doors at the front of the hall finally closed your shoulders relaxed and you ran up towards the stage.

"Papa," you quietly cheered as he stood and hugged you in his arms, "how was the hunt?" you asked as you pulled away.

"Magnificent," he sighed, sitting back in his throne while holding your hand as you stood in front of him, "the butchers seemed happy with the catch, we should only need another one before Winter comes."

"Good. So, you had something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes," he sighed, his free hand reaching up to squeeze his nose between his eyes for a moment, "I am not getting any younger, this hunt proved far more difficult than any I have been on before. I do not want to leave you without a husband."

"Papa," you sighed, letting go of his hand and turning to face out into the hall so to avoid his gaze, "I do not want to be set up with some Lord I have never met who only wishes to marry me to rule this land. I want to marry for love, like you and Mother."

"Not everyone can be as lucky as we were, you are getting older and-"

"And what? A Lord will not want to marry me in another year? In five? I am not that old Papa," you rolled your eyes as you turned back to face him.

"Older than most other unmarried woman in this land," he pointed out.

"Yes but I am fortunate in that I do not need to marry for stability. I wish everyone could marry for love but if I am one of the lucky few who has that luxury would it not be foolish of me not to take that chance," you raised you eyebrows towards him.

You could not ignore the way the William was clearly enjoying the back and forth between you and your father as his eyes flashed between you both. You sent a wink his way and earned a chuckle in response before your eyes moved over to Pero. His face was not as light, the scowl still covering his face as he watched the conversation and it only hardened when he noticed the wink you sent his partner.

"Mr Garin, would you not agree with your King," your father looked over his shoulder.

"I certainly would not disagree with him, Your Highness," he bowed his head slightly, "but to marry for love, well… that is a luxury I would not pass up either."

Pero shot William a look you could not quite make out as William stood back to his position and you looked at your father.

"Give me one year, Papa, and then we can discuss again," you said, making a point of not promising anything more than revisiting this conversation.

"You are just like your mother," your father laughed before standing and bringing you into another hug, "I won’t be at dinner tonight, just you and your brothers."

"Of course Papa," you hugged back before walking back down to the main floor, "goodbye Mr Garin, Mr Tovar," you nodded back to the two men before walking off the platform.

As you walked out of the hall, the back of your neck burned as though a candle was being held near the skin. You tried to keep your head up and back straight but you could not stop the way your knees felt weaker with every step. You wished to find out more about the new, mysterious guard who had so little to say.

As you pushed the heavy wooden door open, you heard it knock against something followed by two muffled groans.

"Could you two be any more nosy," you put your hands out to help them both back to their feet.

"Father is worried you are going to become a spinster," Richard joked as he stood up fully.

"If I were you I would be worried that as soon as I am married he will be working on setting you two up next," you started walking down the hall.

"Well, we still have at least a year to worry about that, let's hope you manage to get someone to fall in love with you by then," your youngest brother Robert teased and you punched his arm, "More pressing, the two new guards? Perfect opportunity for a sneak out tonight," he rubbed his arm.

"You in?" Richard turned to you.

"Do I ever say no?" you laughed before the three of you reached the split in the hall.

You headed down to your quarters, your mind drifting back to Pero as you walked through the long hall. There was something about him but you weren't quite sure what. His friend - or partner - seemed friendly, objectively attractive and a little flirty, but Pero. He was border-line rude, rough around the edges, stared straight into your soul without so much as blinking, but you could not stop the attraction to him. There was something tying you to him from the moment you walked into the hall.

As you walked into your chamber, your lady-in-waiting Maria was filling your bath with hot water from the pot over the fire. Your chamber was lighter than all the other rooms in the castle, most of them covered in deep reds and purples. However, as you were scared of the dark when a little girl your father had your walls painted white, having the gold mirrors and wooden furniture as decoration letting the moon light up the room more.

"I heard your father has two new guards?" Maria's voice called from the fire.

"News travels fast," you laughed as you sat on the edge of your bed.

"Handsome?"

"One is definitely your type, from Ireland I think my father said," you giggled and lay back on the bed, letting your legs dangle off the side.

"An Irishman," she sighed, reaching for your hands and helping you stand to untie the back of your dress and corset, "and the other?"

"He's- he’s-"

"You're blushing!" she turned you to face her.

"I am not," you gasped as you stepped out of your skirts, "he was very handsome. Intimidating and has a scar down one eye," you traced over your own eye to show Maria where it was, "but very-"

"Handsome, you said" she laughed, helping you in to the bath.

The water splashed over the edge as your sank your body down to the bottom, letting the water that was borderline too hot wash over your skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, sighing as the warmth enveloped you as it washed the day away. 

"Enough about the new guards. My brothers are planning to sneak out and go to the Inn tonight, will you join?" you leaned your arms on the side of the tub to look up at Maria.

"I heard the sailors have docked for the night," Maria tilted your head back and poured the water over your hair, running her fingers through your locks to untangle any knots.

"So, that is a..?" you trailed off.

"Yes!" she laughed and your shoulders shook.

"My father is retiring to his chambers early. We can leave as soon as the sun sets," you closed your eyes and began to drag a soap soaked cloth over your body.

After looking our your clothes, finding a white and grey dress that came to your mid-calf and tying your hair back in a cloth, you sighed as you sat on your bed to slip your feet into thick socks and boots. You knew you were lucky, the colourful wardrobe in the corner of the room one that many women dreamed of owning. It was full of dresses in all colours - from bright blues to deep purples, dark greens to rich reds. As you sat on the edge of the bed in clothes much plainer and more comfortable, you let your body stretch out without the usual restriction you suffered.

"So much easier to sit and breathe without the tightest corset on," you sighed.

"Oh the pain of a princess," Maria laughed and pulled you to your feet, "where are your brother's eating tonight?"

"Probably stealing from the kitchen before it reaches my father's chambers," you steered Maria out of your room and towards the kitchen, knowing you were going in the right direction when you heard your brother's laughs and the shouts from Mrs Berry the cook who was no doubt chasing them around the kitchen.

"Aren't you a bit old to be acting like this," you said as you opened the doors to the kitchen.

"Mrs Berry loves it," Richard replied, hopping up on the counter with a bowl of stew in his hand.

"Keeps her entertained," Robert finished, jumping up next to him.

"You're lucky I love you kids. There are two more bowls up there, and if you wash them once you're finished I won't tell your father I seen you," Mrs Berry winked at you.

"Thank you," the four of you called back as she carried a tray out of the kitchen, full of food most likely for your father.

"So, did she tell you about the new guards," Richard turned to Maria.

"Yes, she told me a little about the Irish one and a lot about the Spaniard," Maria laughed as she spooned some stew into her mouth, making you roll your eyes.

"William and Pero," you corrected her.

"I wouldn't mind being caught sneaking out by William but I think Pero would stab me," Robert laughed.

"Are we done now?" you interrupted, pulling a cloak over your dress as you walked to the back door, ignoring the teasing that came from behind you as you walked into the cool Autumn eve.

Sneaking out was easiest through the kitchen, the walls not as guarded at this side of the castle to make it easy for the staff to come and go. You and your brothers learned this in your early years of sneaking out, getting caught many a time trying to run behind a cart through the main gates before quickly being dragged back in by the ears. Outside the kitchen, there was only a small wall to climb before you reached the streets of the Kingdom. 

Richard and Robert helped you and Maria over, letting you stand on their bent knees before swinging your legs over, before pulling themselves up to follow once you were safely down on the other side. You held the cloak that bit tighter around you as you weaved through the streets towards the Inn, the wind whistling down the narrow streets. Maria ran up beside you and linked your arms as Robert and Richard followed closely.

"Wonder if the sailors are there yet," her eyes lit up as the Inn came into sight.

"Sounds like it," you laughed as the shouting and singing poured into the street when the Inn door opened ahead.

You ran up to catch the door before it closed again and were glad to spot a free table near the back. You and Maria moved through the busy floor, apologising for every drink you almost knocked or toe you stepped on, while your brother's went to the bar. With the many bodies and candles to light the room it was a lot warmer in here than in the cold streets and so you quickly shrugged the cloak off your shoulders, taking Maria's as well and hanging them up on the hooks behind you.

While waiting on your brother's to bring back some drinks, you and Maria scanned the room looking at the visitors to the city. Your eyes landed on two bodies in the corner, wearing much darker clothes than the rest of the sailors. You squirmed in your seat to get a better look and soon noticed the familiar scar that ran down one of the men's faces.

"Shit," you hissed, turning your face away from them.

"What?"

"William and Pero, my father's new guards, at the bar," you explained.

Maria sat up taller in her seat, searching for them as you cowered lower.

"The blonde one is my type," she laughed, turning back to you.

You noticed your brothers walking back to the table and quickly pulled them down to the two other seats facing away from William and Pero.

"Wha-"

"Your father's guards," Maria explained, nodding towards the bar.

"Just our luck," Richard sighed handing the beers to you and Maria.

The four of you decided to stay, hoping they wouldn’t see you amongst the busy bar. After a few sips of beer, the others were soon forgetting about your father's guards and their laughs began to grow louder and louder, rivalling the many sailors in the room. You couldn't quite concentrate on their conversation as Robert and Richard bickered about which one of them the barmaid had been flirting with. Instead, your mind wandered back to Pero at the bar with your eyes looking up to search for him every other second.

He sat scowling at the bar and you began to wonder whether his face knew how to make any other expression. Every so often, William laughed and patted Pero on the back and he would roll his eyes before taking another drink. You watched as his Adam's Apple bobbed when he swallowed, finding your mouth getting dry and reaching for your own drink every time he did.

When you looked up at him this time, his head had already started to turn to look around the room. You couldn’t move your gaze away quick enough before his eyes landed on you. You were stuck, unable to peel your eyes away from his as you held your breath, waiting to see who would move first.

Pero did, but not before letting his eyes stare deep into yours without so much as blinking for a moment that went on forever while the buzz of the bar seemed to grow silent. He quickly stood from the bar, walking through the crowd while being followed by a questioning William before stopping in front of your table. His face was still covered in a scowl as he placed his beer on the table between your brothers.

"Shit," Richard breathed, looking up at Pero and William.

"Oh," William laughed, noticing why Pero had stood so suddenly from the bar, "sneaking out?" he pulled a chair round to sit next to Maria, grabbing another for Pero to sit by his other side… which was also happened to be by your side.

The four of you gave each other questioning glances for a moment, wondering why instead of throwing you and Maria over their shoulders and grabbing Robert and Richard with their free hand before bustling you back to the castle, the two guards had now joined you at the table. Before you could silently question any further, William introduced himself and Pero to Maria, Pero only giving a grunt and nod in her direction before looking back around the room.

The conversation went back to normal, you along with your brothers and Maria thankful that neither of the men had decided to drag you back to the castle just yet. The only ones not joining in the conversation were you and Pero. He didn't seem like the talking type and so appeared at peace sitting back and letting his eyes roam around the room but your voice had been lost, unable to even think about talking as you could feel the heat coming from him as your arms almost touched with how close your chairs were.

As you tried to steady your suddenly very shaky hands while reaching for your glass, a sailor wandered up to your table, stinking of ale and bumping into tables and chairs as he went. He tried for your attention as he placed a hand over yours and leaned down to whisper something in your ear that you didn't quite catch as you were too busy trying to ignore him. Pero looked around, his eyes catching yours again and noticing how you shuddered away from the sailor's touch.

"I think you should stop bothering the lady," Pero's voice was quiet but commanding as his eyes moved to the man next to you.

It was the first time you had heard his voice and even though it was harsh as he spat his words to the sailor, you were hanging off every word, wanting to hear him talk more to listen to the beauty he carried in each word.

"She doesn't have a problem with it, do you?" the man nudged your shoulder and you pulled away.

"You think that because she is too polite to say otherwise. I will only say it one more time, stop bothering the lady," Pero hissed.

The sailor pulled back, raising his hands in surrender as he walked away from the table. You watched him leave before turning to thank Pero but his head was already back facing straight ahead.

Not much later, Robert's head was nodding to sleep as he tried to finish the beer in his hand while Richard and Maria were talking far too loud for being in such a crowded space. You winced every time the barmaid turned her head towards your table, the last thing you wanted was to be thrown out and your father to put you and your brothers on night watch to stop from sneaking out again.

"How about we head back?" William said noticing your look, standing and grabbing your and Maria's coats from the hooks behind you.

"No," Maria moaned but still standing to let William place the cloak over her shoulders.

You let William move round the table and place a cloak over your own shoulders, thanking him with a nod before noticing how he looked at Pero while sending a wink your way. While Pero stood back and watched, his scowl looking that bit harsher now, as William managed to wrangle your two little brothers out of the Inn. The cold air whistled into the room as William opened the door, carting your brothers and Maria out before you and Pero walked behind the rest.

You tried to keep your head down and avoid Pero's eyes that were constantly moving back to you as you prayed that he wouldn’t tell your father about finding you tonight. Looked up, you found Maria leaning into William's side with their arms locked as she told a story about her mother loud enough for all the houses on the street to hear. You smiled and wrapped your cloak around you tighter but suddenly your foot caught on the uneven cobbles and you tripped forward. You couldn't unwrap your arms quick enough and so closed your eyes preparing to hit the hard concrete but the fall never came. Two strong hands were wrapped around your waist and held you from the ground, keeping you steady for a moment before lifting you back to full height.

No one else had noticed your trip, the group a lot further ahead as you opened your eyes with Pero was staring back at you, the scowl still firmly on his face as he looked down at you to make sure you hadn't been hurt.

"I-I," your words failed you again as you stared up at him and he rolled his eyes before letting you go.

"Be careful, Princesa," he tutted before marching on again.

It took you a moment to get your feet moving and as you waited you watched him get closer to joining the group. When he reached William you managed to find your voice, whispering a thank you into the air and hoping the wind would carry it far enough for him to hear. Just as you put your first foot forward, Pero’s head began to turn to look over his shoulder. His eyes caught yours and you swore they were lighter than before.

There were crinkles by the side of his eye and a dimple on his cheek next to where his lips had turned up to a small smile, but just as quick as it was there it was gone as he turned back to look at the street ahead.

//

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy

Pero tag // @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear @artsymaddie @ajeff855 @strangelittlenobody @elegantduckturtle @roxypeanut @shedobeclownin

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #headcannon #the great wall

[gigiree]

With enough strength to be gentle

AO3  First chapter. Previous chapter here. Sasuhina month day 20: thunderous as a storm, gentle as a dew drop

“A-are you ready?”

He barely hears her soft tones over the thundering rain rattling his new screen door so hard, it clatters against the wood frame with a staccato groan that’s a bit eerie.

The lighting in his living room is dim and flickering, dozens of candles placed haphazardly on any flat surface because no one ever thought to update electrical grid in the old Uchiha district. That can be credited to the village Utilities’ Department lack of desire to brave the rumored ghosts, the actually decrepit utilities, and the surly last Uchiha who haunts the grounds. They’re alone in that sentiment, but it’s an annoyance that tugs at long buried hurts Sasuke would never admit to.

So he finds himself looking into her earnest eyes, her round face made even softer by the wavering warmth, hesitation clinging firmly to the corner of her pretty mouth and nervousness settled on her scrunched nose.

(And perhaps if he’d known better, he would’ve known that the flush in her cheeks was the fault of a fluttering attraction, but he should be forgiven for missing it, considering the circumstances.)

He smiles, a gentle, crooked quirk of his mouth that’s easy to miss in the dark, but Hinata sees more than most. He knows this small thing to be enough for her to get the message.

He closes his heavy lids and tilts his head forward. 

Her chilled fingers brush back his bangs ever so carefully, he might’ve imagined her touch for all the contact she makes. He bites back the anxiety that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. The absolute contradiction to every instinct that’s ever kept him alive in his time as a shinobi, baring his vulnerable parts to someone who could easily stop his heart with a touch.

(Though he’s already admitted as much that she does with just a look, anyway.)

The cold in her touch makes its way to his temples, soothing the lingering headache that stays despite the herbal concoctions he’s choked down.

“I’m going to start now.”

“Hn.” There’s a heavy silence on her end, her tension threading to her hands so obviously, he opens his eyes suddenly, only to realize her face is mere inches from his own. It takes everything in him not to want to grasp her worried, little face and pull her into his orbit. His lips on hers, her hair tickling the edges of his jaw-

“S-Sasuke-san.”

“Don’t apologize. I did this to myself remember. Now get it off me.” He closes his eyes again. 

Hinata makes a small sound of embarrassment or resolve, he’s not quite sure.

He wants to make a joke at her expense, but the words are caught on his throat as a sudden lance of pain bores into the space behind his eyes, and it feels like he’s being unraveled.

----

Pain. Exquisitely thin and sharp. It laces through every part of him, every thought, as the dull headache he’d been having is seemingly taken apart, bit by bit until he can distinguish each sensation in it as a singular experience.

The roiling of his guts, chills wracking his strong frame, the tang of blood in his mouth, the muscles of his eyes straining in extremis, sight torn between his two doujutsu, the Rinnegan pushing the source of pain and the Sharingan flaring to see past all of it. He's in danger of losing it, but he remembers her to keep hold on why he'd done this. Prior to this, he would've thought the memories to tether himself to consciousness would've been those involving Naruto, Sakura, Itachi and his family. 

Fighting for the end of the world. Fighting for a dream inherited, fighting, endless fighting but...That had all ended hadn't it? He'd been lost in a peace everyone else had seemed to fall naturally into. He'd thought he'd been alone in that. But she was just as lost, if not more so. And she'd crashed into him, pulled forward by her own powerful gravity that she never seem to quite accept. And he'd fallen right into her orbit, hadn't he? 

What a blind, hopeless fool he'd been. But he's changed. No longer a lodestone sinking into the earth. She'd forced him to move. He doesn't know if he'll ever be done thanking her for that.

So he does this for her. 

He remembers stolen moments between the meandering she's done, little crossings where they'd gotten to know one another. He remembers her shining eyes, glinting with mischief when stealing from him, narrowing with suspicion whenever he'd pop by just to see her surprise so deliciously obvious, scrunching with happiness when he'd sit across from her during a Yakiniku gathering. 

Shared glances through a crowd. 

A strand of long, dark hair curling on his couch throw pillow. A bracelet with moonlight hanging off a silver chain, echoing the paleness of her gaze. Fireworks. Thin wires barely keeping an emaciated form tied to this life.

Distance to zero and his lips on hers, the cloying smell of red bean on her breath. 

Stolen moments and kept secrets, just the both of them spinning lost and lonely underneath an old umbrella. Silly, lost, stupidly good, stubborn, misguided, scared, brave, pretty, sweet, strong, gentle, ever growing...Hinata.

His fingers claw at his hair, at his skin, begging for reprieve and then-

A singular touch to his forehead clears it all, like the first drop of rain in a drought riddled desert. The relief ripples across from the dull pressure centered on his botched seal, numbing, washing away the hurt and the loose ends of unraveled thoughts.

For a moment, it feels like Itachi’s poking his forehead again and there’s thunder and rain outside sounding almost too loud and resonant in his sensitive ears.

But when he opens his eyes, confusion and anger and irritation all sweep through him so incredibly visceral, he can’t help but fall to instinct and react. 

It’s all too easy to slap the Hyuuga’s pathetically tiny hand away from his face, push her soft body to the wooden floor and hold a kunai to her slim, pale neck, his heavy form over hers as his Sharingan flares red, sending harsh shadows lancing across her terrified face. “You. Hyuuga. What did you to me? Did Naruto put you up to this?”

The venom coils deep in his words, dangerous and ready to strike. But as far as snakes go, he’s a generous one. Giving chances isn’t something people like him do often. He wracks his brain, but his thoughts are sluggish, dreadful. The last thing he remembers is a tearful Sakura, a pathetic attempt on his life with a poison kunai, Kakashi’s smug remarks, and Naruto’s livid expression reflected in the grimy water below them.

He supposes they managed to catch him after all. But it makes no sense. He’s interrupted by the sound of sniffling.

If there’s one thing Sasuke Uchiha has never been able to deal with, it’s the crying of those weaker than him. They always irritated him. Too loud. To messy. It made him want to run and fight someone worthy the instant they started. She doesn’t make a sound really. Just quiet, trembling breaths.

Her dark brows knit together so tightly, he thinks they’ll never come apart. She was always too weak. A ghost trailing at the back of their class, watching Naruto with flushed cheeks and her cowardice bending her spine in half.

He’s never had pity for people like her. People who can’t help themselves.

Yet when her tears spill over her thick, dark lashes and roll down those ridiculously round cheeks, disappearing into the thick carpet of her hair trailing on the wooden floor, there’s an ache somewhere in him that frustrates him more than anything.

And it sharpens into something excruciating that he can’t quite place when she silently mouths-

“I’m sorry.”

#SasuHina #sasuhina month #an object in motion #sasuke #Hinata Hyuga

[dlwritings]

Watch His Back | Dean Winchester

masterlist found here

pairing - Dean x reader word count - 1,854 warnings - angry Den is angry A/N - for @basicccbitchhh101​ who requested!

summary - You mess up on a mission, and the consequences are pretty disastrous. Deep down, you know Dean would never hurt you, but you had never messed up this bad.

You didn’t know if you would ever get rid of this guilt.

It was a werewolf hunt that should’ve been so easy. You, Sam, and Dean could do this kind of stuff in your sleep at this point. You had been hunting with the boys for five years, and you had been hunting alone prior to that for ten. You trusted the boys with your life, and they grew to trust you the same. Especially Dean, and trust didn’t come easy to Dean. When the two of you started dating three years after meeting them, you knew things would change in your group’s dynamic. Dean already valued his life less than Sam’s, but now he saw you as someone to protect too. Then again, so did Sam. Those Winchesters always valued their lives less than everyone else’s.

So it was your job to watch their backs.

Deep down, you knew you were the one who made the mistake. The plan had been for Dean to go into the front door of the house, guns blazing, and you and Sam were supposed to sneak in the back and save the girls that had been kidnapped. They were being kept in the basement.

Sam explicitly told you to wait by the door at the bottom of the stairs while he worked to free the hostages from their binds. He figured Dean wouldn’t be able to catch all the werewolves, and if any of them made it down the stairs, you would need to fend them off. What none of you expected was for one of the hostages to be a little kid. You saw her while Sam was busy releasing the other hostages. The sight of her threw you off your game. She couldn’t have been more than five. Her clothes were torn, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was chained up away from the others in a dark corner of the room. It had to have been a scare tactic of the werewolves: keep the most vulnerable one away from the ones who could comfort her. The more scared she was, the weaker she would get. She was clearly hungry, cold, shaking. You could see it all in her eyes. “Sam,” you breathed out. Sam either didn’t hear you or decided to ignore you.

That was when you made the mistake.

You left your position at the door and walked over to the little girl, crouching in front of her. “Hey, sweetheart,” you said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” She just nodded, and you worked to pick the lock of her chains.

The werewolf came out of nowhere. Sam wasn’t paying attention, and neither were you. The crash of bodies against the wall made you turn around. “Sam!” you called. He was under the weight of the werewolf, trying to fight him off, but this guy was even bigger than Sam. That combined with his powers was making Sam struggle. You managed to grab your gun and get a clear shot of the werewolf’s head. The silver bullet made the werewolf slump over and fall off Sam. You ran over to him just as Dean made it down the stairs.

Sam was bleeding badly, and when you looked at his shoulder, there was clear evidence of a bite. Dean’s jaw clenched, and you stumbled back at the shock. “Get the hostages,” Dean said, not looking in your eyes. “The house is clear.”

“Dean, I-”

“Do it,” he said harshly. You didn’t fight anymore and nodded. Dean helped Sam up -he was still conscious, but barely- and walked with him up the stairs. You released the rest of the hostages, and one of them immediately ran over to the little girl. You figured it had to have been the mom.

“Come on,” you said to the three of them. “Let’s get you out of here.”

When you got outside, Dean was already helping Sam into the car. “I’m taking him to the bunker,” Dean said. He still hadn’t met your eyes, and it was making your stomach turn. “Take that car and drive them to the hospital.” You nodded, and Dean turned to the car.

“Dean,” you said. He ignored you, got into the Impala, and drove away.

You stared at the car until you couldn’t see it anymore, then snapped yourself out of your thoughts. These girls were hurt, and you needed to drive them to the hospital. You hotwired the car that belonged to one of the werewolves, helped the girls in, and headed off towards the hospital. Within the drive, you had found out that all three girls were related. The oldest was the mother to the younger two. The child you had found was, as you thought, five, and the older was 14. You pulled up to the hospital and looked at the mother. “What do you tell the doctors?” you asked. You had gone over it many times on the ride, but you just needed to make sure she knew.

“We were held hostage by a group of men,” she said. “One of the men betrayed the others and attempted to rescue us. He was able to release us before killing the others and fleeing. I didn’t get a good look at him. He wore a mask.”

“Perfect,” you said. You turned around and found the five-year-old curled up on the 14-year-olds lap, fast asleep. You looked at the mom and gave her an encouraging smile. “They’ll be okay,” you said. “They seem like strong girls.”

Your whole ride back to the bunker was full of anxiety. You couldn’t even get yourself to turn on the radio. All you could think about was how this was all your fault, and now Sam would have to go through the painful werewolf reversal. And it was your fault. If you had just paid attention. Done your job. This was your fault. All your fault.

When you got into the bunker, you could hear Sam screaming. You dropped your bag and ran to Sam’s room. He was laying on his bed surrounded by Cass and Dean. Dean had his hands on his head and his back to Sam. As soon as he saw you, his jaw clenched, and he stormed out of the room. You locked eyes with Cass before running after Dean.

He went into his room, and you followed him in. “I’m sorry,” you said, fighting back the tears that were threatening to come to your eyes.

“Your one job,” Dean said, his voice already raising, “was to protect Sammy. Was to watch Sammy’s back. And because you didn’t do that, Sam got bit. That’s your fault. Do you get that?”

“I know,” you said. “Dean, I’m so so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dean repeated. “Listen? Do you hear that?” He was quiet again as Sam let out another scream. “That’s your fault!”

You had seen Dean angry before. Hurt before. Sad before. Scared before. But this kind of fury in his eyes was unlike anything you had ever experienced. You took a step back from Dean as he took one closer to you. “He could die from this, you know that right?” he said. His fists were clenched, and his eyes were dark and narrow.

“I know,” you said again.

“Fuck, do you know any other fucking word?” he asked. “Anything besides I know and sorry?” You swallowed back more tears and Dean’s jaw clenched.

You didn’t know what else to say. Sam could die, and that was your fault. Dean was mad, and that was your fault. You could lose your best friend, and that was your fault. Dean could lose his brother -again- and that was your fault. What covered that better than I’m sorry?

Dean’s next moves happened so quickly. He stepped over to his bedside table and grabbed his lamp, ripping it out of the outlet and throwing it at the wall next to your head. You knew he wasn’t aiming for you. He would never aim for you. But he came so close, you wondered if he would’ve even cared if he had hit you. As soon as the lamp shattered, you, almost like you were on autopilot, grabbed your gun from the back of your pants and pointed it at Dean.

It was instinct. You get attacked, your defense mode kicks in. You just never thought Dean would be on the receiving end.

Your hands shook and your lower lip quivered. Dean’s shoulders dropped as realization kicked in. You were a strong girl. A brave girl. You had seen monsters and faced death more times than either of you could count. But right now, standing in front of you, Dean could see you were scared. Of him.

Dean held his hands up and stepped closer to you. You didn’t lower your gun at all. “(Y/N),” he said softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were going to hurt me,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I wasn’t,” Dean said. “Okay? I wasn’t gonna hurt you. I just wasn’t thinking.” You were still shaking, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from blubbering. “Sweetheart,” he pressed. “I’m sorry I scared you.” He slowly reached out and put his hand on your gun, lowering your hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated in a whisper. You dropped your gun and burst into tears. Dean quickly caught you in his arms, holding you close to his chest. Even through your own sobs, you could hear Sam screaming. Each scream made you wince and bury your face in Dean’s chest. You gripped his flannel in your fists.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.” Dean sat on the bed and pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him.

“I know,” he said. “I know. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” You kept crying, keeping your face against his chest. “Sam’s gonna be okay,” he said. “I just got scared.”

“I thought,” you whimpered, “you were gonna hurt me.”

Dean’s heart broke at your words, and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I would never hurt you,” he said. “I would never, ever hurt you.” He tried to make light of the conversation. “I’ve got good aim. I knew I wasn’t gonna hit you.” You sniffed, doing your best to catch your breath.

Just then, Cass walked into the doorway. “Sam’s fine,” Cass said. “His body accepted the antidote. He’s just resting.”

You and Dean both nodded, and Cass gave you a soft smile and left the room. Dean kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back. “I’m sorry I scared you, sweetheart,” he said again.

“I’m sorry I almost got Sam turned into a werewolf,” you whispered. Dean kissed your temple, and you could feel he was smiling a bit.

“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “your reflexes are sharper than mine’ll ever be.”

“I know,” she said. “And if you ever do that again, I’ll pull the trigger.”

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

TAGLIST

@bangtan-serendipity | @planetdemon | @the-singing-clown406 | @tomshufflepuff | @bluelalal | @grandloser | @jackiehollanderr | @mindset-jupiter | @bisexual-sk8r | @feel-like-gold | @runaway-apple | @miraclesoflove | @marvelismylifffe| @wonderbyers | @coraz0ndcristal| @lizmarvel | @delicately-important-trash | @superhoorny4daddy | @eunomiasloane | @dvnmbabe​ | @superavengerpotterstar​

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #request

[fortune-fool02]

The Law of Nature

Gyro Zeppeli x Sister reader

Requested by: @weeaboo-god 

Warnings: Spoilers for Steel Ball Run, angst, character-death

Please enjoy.

[Name] laid on the floor, curled up into a ball in a futile attempt to shield herself from the attacks of the other kids. Sharp kicks struck all over her body, leaving bruises with each strike, all while they laughed at her. 

“S-Stop, please.” the small [Hair colour] Italian chocked out, eyes brimming with tears as her body throbbed with pain but her begs fell on deaf ears. She curled up tighter, making herself even smaller, when she heard one of them pick something metal up, trying to prepare herself for the pain that was about to come. However, the screams were not hers, the sound of metal hitting flesh was heard but she felt no pain. Rapid footsteps were heard growing distant along with the shouting but [Name] remained still, trying to hold in her sobs. 

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around her, banishing any sense of coldness and embracing her in a secure feeling of warmth. She latched onto him, burying her face into his jacket as the sobs spilled. He didn’t care though, his hand rubbed her back as he rocked gently, comforting his little sister.

“It’s alright, [Name]. They’re gone now.” Gyro spoke in a hushed yet comforting voice, knowing that it always calmed her down when she got upset. 

***

Hooves slammed against the ground, the steed galloping away from the scene as commanded by its rider. The [Hair colour] Italian threw a glance over her shoulder to check if Lucy was still there, which she was, the girl looked to be built of glass or pottery that could shatter at any moment if not handled with care. 

This was madness. Everything about this whole race was utter madness. The terrorists hunting them down at every turn, the Holy Corpse that possessed the girl on [Name]’s horse, the President of America hunting them down to drag the girl back into his grasping claws. All of it leading to this moment. 

Gyro had told [Name] that, no matter what, not to let Valentine get the Holy Corpse. The plan was for him and Johnny to take Valentine on whilst [Name] got Lucy as far away from them as possible. And that was what she was doing but that didn’t mean she was happy doing it. 

[Name] and Gyro had shared colourful words about their opinions of the plan. Gyro standing his ground and refusing to be swayed by his sister’s persuasion. [Name] trying to use every trick in the book to convince her brother that it was a suicide mission going against Valentine. The eldest sibling was unaltered by this but the anger directed towards Valentine for what has happened had been turned onto her without his intention. Words were said that shouldn’t have been said, and even Johnny was left speechless at it. 

Yet, as the distance between [Name] and the others grew, her mind only could imagine what was happening back there. Her brother and her friend were both fighting for their lives whilst she dashed off on her horse. With a growl, she pulled back on the reigns, halting her horse and turning around towards the battle. Blinding lights could be seen, followed by the familiar shouting of Gyro and Johnny. 

Her [Eye colour] eyes fell down, her thoughts clashing together in her head. Emotions tangling up inside of her, twisting and mixing together, leaving her confused and unsure what she was feeling. This was the plan, the plan that Gyro insisted upon and refused to be shaken by neither [Name] nor Johnny. So, why was she feeling so lost? 

She and Gyro have always had a close bond, one would dare say their bond was the strongest out of all the family. He was always there for her when her nightmares would plague her at night. He was always there for her when she would fall sick and did what he could to help her recover. He was always there for her. No matter what. Even in this race, Gyro made her protection his first priority as it has been since the day she was born. 18 years ago. 

And here she was, running away with her tail tucked between her legs whilst he fought for her. Gyro has fought nearly every battle for her ever since they were children and that chewed away at her like a parasitic infection. 

Not this time. This time, [Name] was going to stand by her brother and fight back. She was not a weak child needing shielding from the bully. Not anymore. With a small yell, she kicked her horse and the steed galloped towards the battle. 

The closer she got to the battle, the more her heart began to clench at the sight. Blood splattered the ground as well as the three males. Johnny laid beside his horse, trying to force himself up whilst Gyro laid on his back, clutching his bleeding shoulder as Valentine approached him. 

Ice cold fear latched onto [Name]’s heart, sinking its ragged talons into the muscle and forcing out any rational thought from her head. The plan, gone. The race, gone. Lucy and the Corpse, gone. The only thing that floated around in her head was that Gyro was in danger, and she needed to protect him as he has protected her. 

“Remember, [Name],” her father’s voice echoed in her mind, “The strong should aid and protect the weak. Then, the weak will become strong and they, in turn, will aid and protect those weaker than them. That is the law of nature.” 

Gyro was strong, he protected [Name] throughout her entire life because she was weak, but she was not weak anymore. Now, it was her turn to protect her brother. 

As Valentine rose the gun up, aiming it at Gyro’s chest, [Name]’s eyes widened. No! Leaping from her horse, [Name]’s Stand materialised in front of her, charging at Valentine. Gyro’s eyes wrenched shut when he heard the gun shoot but he felt no pain. 

Cracking an eye open, he watched as Valentine fell backwards, blood pooling underneath him as his eyes stared off into nothing. A sigh slipped his lips as he sat upright and- 

“Gyro.” He turned his head to [Name] and his emerald eyes widened in horror. Her hand moved away from her chest, crimson blood rapidly growing on her shirt as well as her hand. No. Not [Name]. Her legs gave out from under her and Gyro lunged over, catching her just before she hit the ground. His eyes laced with fear as he examined her wound, trying to think of a way to stop the bleeding and keep her alive. 

“No, no, no. C’mon, Gyro think!” he cursed himself. His mind going as barren as the field they were in. All he could think about was the blood leaving his little sister’s body. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If she had just listened to him, she wouldn’t have gotten shot! And he wouldn’t be holding her in his arms like this. 

Tears pricked his eyes, Gyro Zeppeli never cried. He always put on a brave face for [Name] and that mask had shattered. 

“Gyro...” her soft voice pulled him from his clashing emotions. She looked.... tired but happy, a weak smile rested on her lips as she looked up at him with those [Eye colour] eyes of hers. The sparkle in them flickering unlike a candle cut off of oxygen. 

“I-I did it.” she said, “I-I protected you.” At her words, his chest twisted in both pride and pain. One hand brushing a strand of hair from her face and resting it on her head -much like how he would when they were younger. 

“I know,” he forced out, trying to force his lips into a smile for her. “I-I’m so proud of you.” The way her eyes lit up at that was something that Gyro would never be able to forget. She looked so happy, more happy than any praise their father had given her. She coughed a little, a thin trickle of blood painting her lips, taunting Gyro. 

“Gyro, c-could you sing to me.... that song you made?” she asked him, her hand resting on his and he held her hand, nodding his head. 

“Pizza, mozzarella~ Pizza, mozzarella~ Rella rella rella rella Rella rella...” It may have been a silly song but she loved it. She always loved the songs he made, the jokes he cracked. She loved her brother. 

Gyro felt his heart clench when her [Eye colour] orbs closed and her body went motionless in his arms. And that was the first time in years that Gyro Zeppeli cried. 

#gyro #gyro zeppeli #jojo bizarre adventure #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #steel ball run x reader #steel ball run #gyro steel ball run #gyro jojo #jojo part 7 #sister reader

[crappyimagines]

don’t do anything brave - steve rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader (with powers)

Summary: he specifically told you not to do anything brave yet you being you, you did something brave and caused steve to suffer major heartbreak

Warning/s: fluff, angst, death, steve is kind of an asshole, not proofread

A/N: don’t ask me why i keep making fics where the reader dies because i don’t know either LMAO. this is a oneshot btw. the cuts are gonne be annoying but whatever. hope you enjoy!

You’re partially human and you have potential.

 You have what it takes and everyone sees it. That’s why everyone was shocked to see you fall and cause yourself injuries. It’s a surprise that you could even get injured.

 You’re strong and powerful but apparently, you’re not invincible.

 A simple bullet caused you to stumble down a building and fall meters down to the ground. You weren’t too weak to die from the impact, though. That showed off some of your not-so-mundane skills. You survived the fall but it left you severely injured.

 Your lover, Steve Rogers keeps pacing back and forth just beside the hospital bed where you lay, biting his tongue to prevent himself from telling you off about being reckless and not being careful.

 “Go ahead.” You smiled cheekily at the soldier. He looked at you with a frown.

 “I’m ready for your lecture” you snorted, wincing a little. Steve immediately rushed to your side, asking what was wrong or what was hurting.

 “Relax! I’m fine. Just a little sore.” You teased him as he scoffed and straightened his posture.

 “You need to stop joking about everything, Y/N. ” he frowned.

 “And you need to stop being so uptight, babe” you slurred jokingly. Steve shook his head and chuckled.

 “I would chastise you but I don’t think you would even listen.” He joked.

 “You’re damn right, I won’t!” you laughed.

“Language, doll. Now take some rest and heal up.” He kissed your forehead as you smiled at him.

 “Okay, okay. I know how much you’ll miss me in bed.” You winked and laughed when you saw him reddening.

~~

 It didn’t take too long for you to be able to go back into doing missions. It took a lot of vexing and begging for the Captain to say yes but he came through.

 You weren’t completely back to normal but you could manage.

 Being stuck in that bed was awful and going on a mission will be refreshing.

 “Now, doll. I expect you to be careful this time. You’re not fully healed yet so be extra cautious and-” he paused to grip your frame and made you look at him.

 “Don’t do anything brave”

 You gulped at his serious tone and nodded.

 “I will. I promise you that I will. Now just relax and let’s kiss some ass!” you cheered and ran towards the aircraft.

 Steve shook his head at your choice of words but smiled at your cheerfulness and followed you.

 _________________________________________________________

It was supposed to be basic. It was supposed to be an easy mission. It was elementary. All you had to do was infiltrate the base, get the information that Fury tasked you to take, and then leave. Three easy steps. Three easy steps that you all could’ve done but hindrances were presented.

 The mission only consisted of you, Steve, Sam, Nat and Bucky. Enough to do splits. You were obviously with Steve on this one. Sam went solo, and Bucky was with Nat. Sam was assigned to keep eye from above, watching the entrances to see if you got any companion. Nat and Bucky were assigned to collect the files which leaves Steve and yourself to be the guards that makes sure no casualties were to happen with Nat and Bucky.

 Everything was going well. Nat and Buck got the information and went out to meet with you and Steve. The four of you were about to leave when Sam spoke.

 “Cap! It’s a trap! They knew we were coming! We’re outnumbered! I’m coming in!” Sam shouted in your earpiece.

 Steve stiffened and took a deep breath.

 “No, Sam. It’s too dangerous if we’re outnumbered. Call for backup.” Steve commanded.

 “Alright, Cap.” Sam does as he said.

 The doors busted open and suddenly, you were surrounded. There was a long pause filled with heated staring contests before the fight started. Nat, Bucky, Steve, and yourself fought of every HYDRA agent and didn’t have second thoughts in killing them.

 It’s either kill or be killed.

 Back up came. Tony, Rhodey, and even the kid, Peter Parker came for back up. They came and everything go easier. Every HYDRA agent was down and all were good. Everyone was walking out when you saw it from the corner of your eyes. A shimmer.

A HYDRA agent holding a dagger, limping towards Peter who was conveniently the closest one to the rogue so she went for him. You were faster, though. Before she could even jab at the kid, you pushed Peter away and held the woman’s hand that was holding the dagger. She looked at you in shock but that expression turned into a smirk.

 You tilted your head in confusion and that’s when you felt a sharp pain shoot through the right side of your abdomen.

 You looked down to see a needle stuck to your right side and the liquid went into your body when the woman pushed the end of it.

 “Got you.” she whispered.

 “Ms. Y/N!” Peter yelled as he webbed the dagger from the lady’s other hand. Everyone turned to look at the both of you with shocked looks and a few gasps. Steve ran as fast as he could and was beside you in a flash, holding you up. He looked at the needle poking out of your right side and frowned.

 Natasha went ahead and took care of the rogue.

 “What happened?” Steve’s voice boomed.

 You only winced in response, feeling your body being weaker by the second.

 “The lady went out of nowhere. She was about to stab me when Ms. Y/N pushed me away and stopped the lady. The lady suddenly injected her with that when Ms. Y/N was occupied with the dagger in her other hand. I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to-” Peter blabbered when you did your best to reach out to him and pat his shoulder.

 “It’s not your fault, kid. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You assured him.

 Are you?

 Are you really fine?

 Steve held you tighter which made you look at him.

 “I told you not to do anything brave.” He whispered, anger and worry seeping through his tone.

 You chuckled and shook your head when you started feeling faint.

 “Are you okay? Doll?” Steve shook you as you blink dizzily.

 “I feel weird”

 “Get to the plane, now! Get Banner or Cho!” Steve barked out orders, worried about you. Steve carried you to the plane and then placed you on a small bed. A doctor came towards you and started checking your vitals and such.

 You were unconscious.

 You were unconscious for too long.

 To say Steve was super worried is an understatement.

 You’ve been unconscious for three weeks now and everyone started getting jittery.

 Everyone was affected. Steve was the most affected but so was Peter.

 Peter was blaming himself and Steve wasn’t helping him with it. Steve was almost implying that it was indeed, Peter’s fault. Steve became cranky as hell and everyone was either annoyed or scared. Annoyed because he’s traumatizing poor Peter and scared because no one’s ever seen the golden boy this mad. They were also worried for Steve as they were for you. Steve wasn’t handling your situation well. You needed to wake up.

 You have to wake up.

 As if the universe was playing tricks with everyone, the doctor announced that if you don’t wake up with in the next two weeks, it’s over. Your vitals were low and your heath rate was to low. You were only alive because of the machine. The news wasn’t well received by the team. Peter was devastated and guilty as fuck while Tony tries to cheer him up. Steve was horrible.

 Steve was the most affected by this but he wasn’t giving up. He will wait. He’ll give you time. You’re a fighter. You’ll fight through this. You were always stubborn. You wouldn’t let this killer serum end you. You wouldn’t.

 Steve waited. Steve was patient but then you just stopped.

 You stopped breathing. Even with the machine on, you stopped.

 Flat line and that deafening sound clouded Steve’s senses as he was pushed out of the room as the doctors worked on you.

 ‘This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’ Were the words that kept replaying in Steve’s mind.

 You can’t leave him. You can’t. You promised.

 You promised.

 But that was it.

You were gone.

 There was a funeral.

You were buried because that’s what you wanted.

You were gone.

 You were gone.

 Peter cried at your funeral, feeling responsible for everything.

The other avengers mourned.

Steve was devastated.

What was his purpose now?

 How could he move on?

 Why did you have to be so stubborn?

 “I told you not to do anything brave.” He whispered; pain laced in his voice.

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

 It’s been three days since your funeral and everyone was still in shock.

 The Y/N that they knew was gone. She was always someone who was looked up to. How did it happen to be just a serum that killed you? It doesn’t make any sense but nonetheless, it killed you.

 Life is full of surprises.

 Life is full of surprises indeed.

 That night was specifically different. The night was cold and wet. The rain was nonstop and it’s like the god of thunder himself is unleashing his wrath but Thor denied that it was him.

 The night was eerie and the avengers sat in the living room, having a cozy night while Steve isolated himself in the kitchen. Everyone was drinking something hot when the A.I., Friday spoke.

 “System breached. Someone is trying to enter the building.” It said.

 Everyone ran down, Steve leading the group.

 Like Friday said, there was indeed someone trying to break in. Pounding on the glass door was a body covered in wet mud all over.

 “What the fuck? Let me in! I live here. Guys?!” the figure screamed.

 Steve stiffened. Everyone stared.

“Umm. Guys what the fuck. Is this a prank?” the figure shouted.

 Steve quickly went to the doors, opening it and grabbing the figure.

 “Y/N?” he asked as he wiped your face with his hands.

 “The one and only” your voice sounded unsure, finding the whole situation weird.

 Steve didn’t waste his time as he embraced you, not caring if he got all dirty from your mud.

 “Are you real? Are you really here?” he whispered. The others were just staring in confusion and in shock.

 “I think so?” you answered, then added;

 “I feel weird”

 Steve was alerted and started to guide you inside.

 “Bruce! Check her up, please?” Steve was pleading, he didn’t want to lose you again. You just came back.

 You stopped Steve. “I feel weird but in a good way.” You say confusingly.

 Steve nodded and led you to your shared room to wash up.

 It looked the same. It was untouched. Steve slept in a guess room because he was too scared that he would sniff all you remaining smell away, as weird as that sounds. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep there so the room was left untouched.

 You took a shower for the first time in a while and you savored it.

 Steve got worried because you were taking too long. Maybe something happened?

 “Y/N? Doll?” he knocked.

 You opened the door and looked up at the super soldier.

 “I’m fine, Steve. Gosh you’re still such an uneasy person, geez.” You joked.

 Steve looked at you, you were wrapped in a towel and so was your hair.

 “I can’t help it. I lost you once and I won’t let that happen again.” He said as he pulled you in for a heartwarming hug.

 “Which reminds me. You mind telling us what happened?” Steve looked at you and you sighed.

 “Yeah. Let me just put clothes on.” Steve nodded and bit his bottom lip.

 “Easy, Captain. I just got back.” You joked and laughed as Steve shook his head in annoyance yet laughed at your usual cheekiness.

_________________________________________________________

“I saw everything” you started as everyone listened to you.

  “Everything flashed before me and yeah. I thought that I was still in a coma but apparently, you all buried me because I have to crawl my way up to the surface.” You joked as everyone eased at your playful tone.

  “So, like, there was this weird dude who claimed to be a God. Probably good friends with your pops, Thor.” You nodded at Thor as Sam snorted. Bucky elbowed the man, making him shut up.

  “Apparently, I’m not human. Well, I was human until I died. Which made me what I am now.” You tried to explain, hoping that they would get the point.

  “Yeah? And exactly, what are you now?” Tony questioned.

  “I don’t know. I’m not boasting but apparently, I’m a demigod now.” You bit your lip as you looked at everyone’s expression. Some were confused, some were amused, some where dumbfounded. Thor was smiling as he stood up and approached you.

  “Cheers to that, lady Y/N” you high fived him as everyone started bombarding you with questions.

  “Look, guys. I don’t know much but it is what it is. I’m just thankful that I’m back because I’m not yet done annoying the hell out of you.” You joked and went over to Steve.

  “Especially this one.” You hugged him sideways.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss your stubbornness.” Steve joked which caused everyone to laugh.

    The night went on with all of you just talking and the next day came. Peter Parker was in the tower and by what Tony told you, you have a lot of parenting to do and you dragged Steve with you.

  “Peter!” you called. The kid looked at you in shock as you laughed.

  “Missed me?”you joked.

  “Ms. Y/N!” the kid couldn’t help himself and launched towards you, hugging you. Only pulling away when he sensed Steve’s presence.

  “I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get you killed. I’m really-” you cut him off with a pat on the head.

  “Peter, it’s not your fault. Really!” You elbowed Steve on the stomach as he groaned like a teen.

  “Right, Captain?”you asked him. Steve sighed and nodded.

  “That’s right. I’m sorry if I blamed it on you. I wasn’t aware of my emotions when all that happened and I took it out on you.” Steve looked down at Peter as Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

  “It’s okay, Captain. I-I understand. We’re cool.” Peter stuttered.

  “We’re cool” Steve repeated and glared at you when he heard you let out a laugh.

  “Look at Captain America being so hip!” Y/N teased as she laid an arm around Peter’s shoulder.

Peter looked at you, feeling relief and happy for the first time in weeks.

______________________________________________________

Steve looked at you as the both of you laid in bed. You were facing up and he was facing you. You turned your face towards him and chuckled.

 “What?” you asked.

 “I just like looking at you.” He smiled.

 “Okay, Mr. Weirdo” you joked causing him to let out a hearty laugh.

 “You scared us. You scared me.” He whispered. You turn your body towards him and sighed,

 “I know. But I’m back and I’m not going anywhere.”

 He nodded and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him so your head was against his chest and you can feel his chin on the top of your head.

 “I love you.” He says as you feel his lips press on your head. You looked up at him and smiled.

 “I love you more” you replied and pressed a kiss on his nose.

 “Well, I love you most.” He chuckled and placed a kiss on your lips.

 In that moment, everything was perfect. Ups and Downs were faced. Mostly downs but for now, everything’s perfect. Your love was perfect.

  -end-

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america angst #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #peter parker x reader platonic

[aithrauniverse]

Chapter 16-Aithne

Looking at the woman, I paled.

I should have already realized that she was the stuff of nightmares, just by looking at her bloodstained dress. The white-and-red cloth of her dress fluttered in the wind as she placed each foot in front of the other. I slowly moved my gaze higher. Her hair hung down from the side of her face, thin, straight strands as black as dusk. They seemed shorn off at her waist, like someone had cut them with a sword. I didn’t speculate further.

Then I saw her eyes.

Off-white holes. No irises, no pupils, nothing. I stared into those white pits, which seemed to be boring holes like bullets in my heart. They stared back, empty, hallow, sunken, almost desperate.

“I know you fear me,” she spoke up, shattering the silence that hung in the air. “I can see it in your eyes. Deep down, you utterly, truly, are scared.”

Gulping, I tried to narrow my eyes at her. “I-I’m not,” I choked, looking away.

“Oh, really?” She seemed to be taunting me. “Well, how about now?”

She transformed, shimmering as she raised her arms. Her dress grew longer, cleaning itself up until it shone, a white brighter than the stars themselves. She snapped, and a denim jacket buttoned itself on top. Her sandals, ripped and broken, were replaced by soft yellow sandals, the strings tied up into small bows. Her entire body frame changed, from pale and skinny, to around my build, just ever so slightly taller than me. Her skin now glowed a snow white. Her face’s change was the most shocking though. Her eyes...they were amber, like mine. Her nose was hooked... mine is too. Her hair grew shorter and wavier, until it hung to her elbows, and the brown that colored her hair was similar to mine, yet again.

And then she sprouted wings. Fluffy and white, identical to Laila’s, just larger. A burst of light appeared, and a halo rested on her head, floating above her hair, glowing brightly. It was the only source of pure light in this whole darn place (maybe other than Astra’s shield and Laila’s wings).

She looked down, down at me, her almond-shaped eyes filled with tears.

“Aithne, it’s been so long since we met. Where have you been all this while? Why haven’t you come to see me?”

Wait. I recognized her.

“C-Cassiel?”

I reeled backwards, as if I had taken a slap to the face. What— how was she here? I thought she had left me and Father years ago. Gone, to live with Stepmother.

“I am not your sister.” The spirit hissed and took on its original form. “Even she had the common sense to leave you.” It felt like the spirit had taken a knife and slashed me straight in the heart, where I was weakest.

“Scared now, aren’t you? See what I can do now? My powers far outweigh yours. Now cower in fear... and kneel to me.” It leered down at me, smirking as if it had succeeded.

That was the last straw.

Yelling, I sped straight at the beast, holding my palms out. A flaming sword flashed, then fell into my palms, enchanted steel encased in flame yet again. At the last second, I jumped, my wings propelling me into the air. I aimed, grimacing and preparing for the final hit, but the apparition was quicker. It turned into a swirling black mass, a terrifying nightmare for most, and shot out a tentacle, grabbing me by the neck. Before I could even react, it pinned me to the wall, its arm shimmering and giving off wisps of black dust.

“Give up already, insolent fool,” the spirit’s red eyes flashed, reminding me of the roses that bloomed in the depths of hell, beautiful but deadly. I looked down. “You are no match for me, young one. Since the beginning of time, when night falls, I creep and lurk under all the young toddlers’ beds, bringing them sleepless nights. I form children’s nightmares, add to the burdens of teenagers’ anxiety, feed and fuel the fire of adults’ depression. I am the pure embodiment of Fear itself. I am dangerous, unescapable, inevitable, sometimes even fatal. I am stronger than anything else. And now, it is time for me to consume your soul, and to keep it with the rest. Well, at least you had the honor of meeting Fear face-to-face.” It cackled at its own joke.

Then it clicked. I knew how to defeat it.

I didn’t just have to look in its eyes. I also had to face my fears. Gah, why didn’t I remember this before? Now I’m pinned to the wall by this disgusting black creature.

Slowly, I lifted my head once more, meeting its cold, hard gaze. I inhaled deeply. “I see you,” I began, then smirked. “I see you for what you are. You’re not a monster, you’re a coward.” The monster’s grip began to loosen as it snarled, rearing back. It was working.

“You hide and strike the enemies behind their backs. You refrain from physical fights; you resort to the mind. You’re not even a tangible being, just a bunch of fluid shadows. Just like the spirit before, yet far, far weaker.” It further loosened its grip, too focused on trying to regain its strength. I stepped out, flapping my wings and rising up until we were face-to-face.

“What sorcery is this?!” it wailed. I merely glared it at, continuing my speech.

“I see you in your true form now. You aren’t even terrifying, just a lost spirit.” Almost there. Now for the final line.

“And now, having seen all this, I have decided. I’m. Not. Scared.” I emphasized on the last three words. With a final howl, the spirit started to change its form—she became a young schoolgirl in her torn, tattered pinafore. She now looked about our age, though her mental state was definitely way older than that.

“So, you’ve found out,” the spirit whispered, in a voice softer than before, “Yes, I’m just a lost spirit. I long for someone to stand up for me. You... don’t know what it’s like to be killed by the pair of hands that had bullied you for a whole decade.

“In my past life, I was a pathetic girl. Poor, weak, and timid. When I died, I had such a strong thirst for revenge that I not only survived reincarnation, but also gained the ability to instill fear into others’ souls. I wanted to make that person feel what I had endured. But I guess... I lost control of my own self...” the girl looked at her open palms, then up at the sky, “It really is time for me to go. So, let me bless you all with the last of my life force. I wish you the best of luck in your journey ahead.”

Then, the spirit began to disappear. She smiled and waved at us, before fading to black, and back to the shadows where she belonged.

I turned back towards my two friends, once again burying the lump in my throat. I smiled tiredly. I hadn’t felt like this since I was five. Since... since Cassiel left me. That spirit led the kind of life I always thought I did.

But maybe it was about time I realized that others had suffered as much as, if not more than me.

“Hey, guys,” I waved weakly, “I did it.” Astra slowly let down her shield. She dashed forward and squeezed me hard, hugging me.

“That... that was so brave, Aithne. I’m so glad you managed to take over that spirit.” I hugged her back and then pushed her away, ruffling her hair absentmindedly. Then Laila stepped forward.

“Aithne... about your sister... I’m so sorry.” She didn’t sound like she was bored, nor tired. She sounded like she had...found out about Cassiel. Had she used one of her angelic powers on me?

I quickly dismissed the thought and raised my head. Laila wasn’t the nosy type. Even if she had found out, it was probably for the better. “Stepsister,” I corrected. “And it’s fine. But we shouldn’t waste any more time dilly-dallying. Let’s get a move on! C’mon, let’s go!”

#story #storywriting #writing #writer #writers #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #stories #fiction #fiction story #fictional #fictional story #mythical creatures #myth #mythology #spirit #school project #aithneEEEeEEEEEEEEEeEEE

[jiwonsssi]

— on the count of three.

prompt:

- Let's take a photo! One, two..

- I'm going to kiss you.

- Three.. What?

characters: Eun Jiwon, 'you';

warnings: slight cursing, slight R-rating.

Jiwon is a really good old friend of yours. Not like 'good', not really 'really', but surely 'old' and sometimes even a 'friend'. Well. Decision of spending an evening together was not quite a bad idea. He started to behave lately, and was a bearable human being, even funny and nice sometimes. You wanted to know what caused those extreme changes, but decided to not to disturb it to not to ruin it.

- And you know what she did? She hid the fact that she stole it! Like, I can't believe..

- But what do you want her to do? Being, like, 'oh, you know what, I stole this, that and that, just saying'? It's bullshit. Use your head before talking, you, - he put a hand on your hair to mess with it while laughing and you just roll your eyes since it was better to not pay attention to his antics rather than fight back. Useless anyways.

Anyways it was a good way of wasting time on watching a movie or drinking or doing God-knows-what. You end up re-watching the first Iron Man for, like, tenth time and by the end of the begging of the film it was only a conversation that was matter.

- Look whos talking, mister I-Say-Shit-Without-Thinking-Since-I-Started-Talking, huh, - but you, being, well, you, continued bickering. Following the easiest path was never a choice. And it's funny to see him frustrated. More like a hobby of yours.

- What? Why are you being so brave tonight? - he looks at you with those angry eyes and you answer with same expression. Because.. well, we already discussed it.

Then you are being pushed to the side by his hand on your shoulder. Seeing his all smiley and mocking 'I am the winner' face while he sips his drink was not pleasant at all, so with a deep sigh and a slight kick on his leg, you stood up to straighten your shirt.

- It's not like I was scared any other day, you know, - he follows your hands with a gaze and nod, taking another sip. And now that was surprising. Because having him checking you out is surely something you have never experienced. Jiwon adjusts his pose and avoids your eyes when you bend a brow.

He's not ashamed; to be honest, you are not entirely sure if he has a clue what shame actually is.

- I know, - and it suddenly awkward. Maybe it just you, but he definitely changed his expression. Now he tries to burn a hole in a TV screen and you just stand there not knowing what to do. Very nice. Just a dream, - I want another bottle of soju. Have some? Bring it.

He didn't even glanced your way. Usual Jiwon is back in town so nothing to worry about.

So you made yourself comfortable on a couch again and took a cup with soju from his hand.

- Help yourself, - you smiled at him with false politeness and nodded to a kitchen, receiving muttered curses and soft 'I didn't want it that much anyways'. You smile, shaking your head.

He's really cute, you just couldn't deny it.

By knowing him for more than a few years now, you got an immunity to all his attacks (almost), so you actually found him adorable mostly. He indeed is. When he's not a moron, he's either a squishy sleepy lost ball or a charismatic rapper and powerful, smart leader. And you even had just a tiny small little micro crush on him before. Well maybe a huge ass crush if being honest. And you even sure that he knew. You were young, naive and inexperienced. Of course he knew. It was obvious.

The thing is, he never took an advantage, even if he had a chance, and it made you respect him at some point. Now it's gone, just a funny memory; yet something is still there. You just preferred to ignore it. God knows why.

- Someone is spamming you with texts and you are too deep into admiring me to notice.

Being slapped in a face? That's how it feels like.

Resume: you stared at him while thinking that you used to have a crush on him while holding a cup near your mouth but not drinking while your telephone kept ringing while he was fully aware of what was happening for God knows how long. Well.. Shit happens, right?

- Was thinking that you need to see a dermatologist.

Maintaining a straight face when you actually had an internal breakdown was not an easy task, but you managed. Now the task is to ignore his smirk. Like hell he would believe. Ugh.

You opened a text from your friend, well, a bunch of texts, from just one tiny friend, to see her asking you repeatedly what were you doing. Lots of unnecessary photos of her face with all the faces she could have manage, surroundings, and similar messages; she is a really close good friend. The only reason for tolerating it.

Still funny sometimes tho.

- C'mon, let's take a picture, - someone need to break the ice now, right? You leaned backwards closer to his face to adjust an angle and put on the dumbest expression you could maintain, - One, two..

- I'm going to kiss you.

- Three.. Wha-

And then his lips are on yours.

There is not a single thought in your mind.

You weren't even able to be surprised.

The kiss is so light; his lips barely touch yours and yet it's so breathtaking. So soft.

No one ever kissed you like that.

You don't want it to end; you will need to talk about it, to sort things out, but for now his hands on your cheeks and you let him deepen the kiss. It's somehow magical now; the atmosphere around you.

Feeling your arms getting weaker by every second, you just lean into him. Into comfort you never knew even exist. His hands reach you neck to gently guide you and you completely surrender. It's impossible to not to.

God, he's amazing. And when you realise that one of your hands is slowly making it's way up his tight, you hear loud crack of the phone hitting a floor.

Perfect timing.

It ends this magic just like that; you open your eyes trying to catch a breath.

And then silence.

Complete silence; just his slightly hitched breath and your heart. You wander if he can hear it.

You wait for him to joke, to be nervous or at least be even slightly surprised. But when you meet his eyes, he's so calm. He looks at you directly with so fucking gentle smile.

You have never seen him smile like that. And you were lucky; he could persued you to do anything by looking that way.

There is only you who look like a deer caught in a headlights, actually. And Jiwon finds it adorable.

His hands never leave your body and now he keeps your head straight for you to look at him; and you just choose to shut your eyes tightly. Causing him to crack and laugh.

You have no idea what to feel now, you just really want to decide later; but the sound of his laugh was never that charming.

You never imagined your heart can beat that fast.

- Look at me, - you just shake your head, realising that one of your hands is now stuck in the air and you, like a complete fool, place it on your knees. And another one, that was on his thight all the time. For fuck's sake, oh God. Still refusing to open your eyes tho.

- No, - voice is like a tiny squeak and he finds it funny again when you feel him caress your neck with his fingers; it's so light and tender you barely notice. But he does it.

Remember fast beating heart? Now it's faster and it seems like a good idea to just die in his arms.

- Please, - he rarely asks this polite and you decide to give him a chance. Since he already kissed you. You are going to face him anyways, it's not like he's planning to fuck off. Not like you want it.

- I broke my phone, - your hands now on his wrists and you find yourself not being able to do what you wanted to do.

He's so warm. You can feel it. You can feel his pulse under your fungertips. So calm.

It's impossible to look at him now.

- I know, - he's a lot closer now; voice is barely audible. Perhaps you would get mad if it wasn't so good.

Yes, long forgotten crush, all that staff; but you can't deny that he's exactly what you ever wanted. As simple as that. You just choose to avoid those feelings to not to get hurt. Because he never made a move; was always around, like a friend. He made it clear then. And now he offers something different to you. Yes, it feels really good.

It would be better to know that he does it not because he's drunk and wants to mess with you.

His presence feels different all of a sudden. Hot. Tempting. Delicate?

- You wouldn't be able to keep them close forever, - Jiwon laughs again and you feel, suddenly, a smile creeping on your face as well.

He's not like that, right? Jiwon is not going to do that to someone.

- Don't underestimate my fear of facing you, - you feel him stroking your hair lazily and he gave your ear a light pinch.

- You said you are never afraid. Never, my ass, - he's mocking you again as if kissing wasn't enough. Not going to let it slide, you unconsciously open your eyes to see him smiling ever so brightly.

- It wasn't.. Fuck, - it's not the moment that breathtaking, it's him.

His expression is priceless and he's so close and so happy. God, so happy.

You are falling for him so hard you can feel your ribs clenching.

- Now I'm going to kiss you again. Ready? 1..

He never finishes since it's rather difficult to talk while kissing. You can feel Jiwon smile widely in the kiss and this is incredible; all that happening is incredible. His hands on your waist and he's pulling you on his laps and you happily help him. Way too happily perhaps since he breaks a kiss to laugh, while giving you short pecks and getting down your neck with wet kisses. The skin feels like it's on fire; everywhere you feel his fingers touch you, it burns. You move your head to give him better access, burying fingers in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

You would sell your soul to not to moan like a teenager, but you can't. All you manage is biting your lip and pulling his hair harder. He likes it. You can feel it. You totally can feel exactly how much he likes it.

- Let's pretend it was our first date and when I asked you to be my girlfriend you said yes, - you catch something in your throat not because you are taken aback by his audacity, but because he definitely leaves a hickey on your neck.

The thing is, you are mad, happy and turned on at the same time.

Tagging on his hair, you make him look at you. And damn those eyes.

Now you just turned on. Nice.

- What made you think I would say yes?

- You just jumped on my lap like you..

- I understand your point, now shut up, - well, testing him is not an easy game to play.

But it so worth it.

#eun jiwon #sechskies #imagine

[witchy-writes-smut]

Baby I’m preying on you [chapter 5]

» read it on ao3 «

pairing: Shiro/Keith ; one-sided Kuro/Keith.

au: mermaid au, alpha/omega.

warnings for this chapter: kidnapping, attempted rape and mentions of forced pregnancy.

Shiro felt like his chest was about to burst. So many speaking at the same time, but at some point he started to blocking them out, muffling the words.

The events of last night kept replaying in his head.

When Shiro realized Kuro’s plan and saw that he had disappeared, panic settled in him. He swam, hoping he would find Kuro not too far away from there, while the others went back into the castle to check on the princess and the guests.

Shiro had no idea here he was going as he searched for Kuro and Keith, or how long he had been swimming, or if he was even going on the right direction. He stopped at some point and looked around, trying to spot them somewhere, but they weren’t anywhere to be seen.

Keith had been taken from him and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Luckily, the royal family, Coran and the guests that had been at the party were unharmed, and the damage caused by the explosions was being fixed. Right now, Lance, Hunk, Pidge and Allura stood in one of the chambers of the castle and discussed what was the best action to take after what had happened.

Shiro leaned against the wall. He should be looking for Keith, not wasting time here, but he also knew that defending the kingdom was important, especially now that there was the threat of future attacks from the Galra empire.

He curled up on himself, hands shooting up to cover his ears and he closed his eyes as the voices grew louder. Pidge and Lance argued as they disagreed on something and Hunk and Allura tried to calm them down.

Shiro thought about Keith. Keith, his mate. Keith, the one he wanted to love as long as he lived.

Keith…

Shiro felt tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

Why does he have to suffer because of my past? I should have protected him from all of this. He thought.

Shiro jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, meeting Lance’s eyes. “Shiro.” Lance’s voice dripped concern.

The others were looking at him as well. Pidge swam towards him, and, similar to Lance, rested a reassuring hand on his other shoulder. “We will find him, Shiro.” Her eyes softened.

“And we will make sure Kuro pays for everything he has done.” Hunk’s voice was low as he spoke.

Allura moved to stand behind Pidge. “We are not giving up on Keith. No matter what it takes.” She promised.

Shiro knew the others wouldn’t let him go alone. They would be willing to go alongside him to rescue Keith, their friend, even if they would be putting themselves at risk.

But…

Shiro closed his eyes again, taking a few seconds to compose himself, before opening them and finally speaking.

“No.” Shiro’s voice was stern. “I can’t let you be dragged into this any further. This is between me and Kuro. Keith got caught in all of this and look what happened.”

They stared at him, surprised. Shiro was always the one who said that being together was what made them stronger, and now he was telling them that he wanted to face this all by himself.

Hunk moved forward, a determined expression on his face. “Keith is our friend. We will do anything to get him back.”

“You should stay here. The kingdom needs you here to defend it. And for all we know, having all of us going after him is part of Kuro’s plan. He knows we are the best defense Altea has and having us away from the kingdom would be the perfect opportunity for Zarkon to attack.”

“You’re right.” Allura agreed, although it was evident she didn’t like this decision. “But we can’t let you go alone. If Kuro…”

“I can handle him. I fought him before, I can fight him again.”

He turned away from his friends before any of them could say anything. “I will save Keith and we'll both come back home.” He glanced over his shoulder. He did his best to smile at his friends one last time. “I promise.” He then swam away, leaving the chamber, not looking back once.

---

Keith blinked awake. His head hurt. He tried to bring his hands up to his face, but found himself unable to. Whenever he tried, it felt like something was holding them. He tried to move his tail but felt something strain against his wrists.

Keith recognized the feeling as it being of a coarse rope. Worse was that the rope that kept his wrists tied behind his back was the same that was tied around his tail and moving pulled it tighter, until it felt like it burned his skin.

He squirmed, his body rubbing against the sand underneath him.

“You’re finally awake.”

Keith froze as he heard that voice. That voice that had plagued his nightmares.

A hand gripped his shoulder, forcing Keith to turn and lay on his back. Keith’s heart began to beat fast as Kuro hovered over him. “Found some ropes on a sunken pirate ship. I knew they would come in handy eventually.”

Keith looked away, only for his eyes to land on a white shark that laid just a few feet away from him. Keith briefly panicked until he realized that the creature was dead, a dagger buried in its chest and various deep cuts decorating its body.

“Just some food.” Kuro explained, moving away from Keith. He pulled the dagger out from the shark and worked on cutting a piece of its flesh. “This one put up a fight. It was entertaining.” Kuro held a chunk of the shark’s meat in his hand, wasting no time in sinking his teeth into it, tearing and chewing it.

Keith looked around, trying to see where he was. Stone walls surrounded him and gave it away that he was in a cave. Keith spotted the entrance; it was so far away from him, and as long as he was bound, he would not be able to swim towards it and escape.

He tried to remember what had happened. He remembered chasing after Kuro. He remembered Kuro threatening to kill him if the barrier was not deactivated. The explosion that followed. And then…

When Kuro had swam away after the explosion and dragged Keith along with him, Keith had fought back. Kuro was not in the mood to put up with his resistance and to make things easier, smashed his head against some rocks, knocking him unconscious.

Keith winced as he remembered that.

“Where are my manners?” Kuro’s voice snapped him out of it. “You’re probably hungry too.”

Kuro cut another chunk of the shark’s meat and leaned closer to Keith, trying to feed it to him.

Keith turned his head away, keeping his lips shut.

“You’re going to be like that? Starve then.” He dropped the meat, letting it fall onto the sand. “You will be begging for food anytime soon, anyways.” Kuro shrugged.

Keith thought Kuro would leave him alone, but he should have known better. Kuro pressed his body against his, pinning him down, his face only inches away from his.

“You and Shiro ever talked about having kids?”

Keith’s eyes widened at the sudden question.

“I bet Shiro wants them so much, and I believe you would willingly let him fill you with his eggs.” Kuro smirked as his finger playfully poked Keith’s nose.

“That’s what omegas like you are for, after all. To be bred by their alpha.”

“You’re not my alpha!” Keith spat, finally giving Kuro a response.

Kuro pulled his finger away from Keith’s nose to trace patterns on his collarbone.“Maybe when he comes for you, I won’t kill him right away.” Kuro mused, clearly liking that idea. “I will keep him alive and fuck you right in front of him.” Keith’s body became stiff, his muscles tensing up. “And before I finally kill him, I will have him watch as I breed you.” He pressed his palm against Keith’s stomach.

“Stop it!” Keith yelled.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Kuro’s left hand stroke Keith’s hair in a mocking manner. “I will take you with me back to Zarkon’s kingdom and all you will do for the rest of your life is carry my children.”

Keith couldn’t stand that thought. “No, no!” He struggled the best way he could to get away from Kuro’s touches, but that only made the rope cut into his skin.

Kuro was loving how helpless Keith was in that moment and how he was refusing to give up so easily. Just like the first time the two met.

His right hand moved further down until it was close to Keith’s slit.

“No!” Keith cried out, thrashing underneath Kuro, who pinned him down harder with his much bigger body.

Kuro chuckled at how much weaker Keith was in comparison to him. He then winced as, suddenly, Keith sunk his teeth into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

He tugged brutishly on Keith’s locks, nearly ripping his hair out of his scalp, until Keith finally stopped biting him. “You don’t submit that easily do you? I do like that in you.”

He kept his grip on his hair, forcing Keith to look at him. He brushed his thumb over Keith’s lower lip. “But I like you better broken and ruined. Like how you were after our first meeting.” Kuro pulled his finger away in time before Keith could bite it off.

He smirked at the way Keith angrily glared at him, baring his teeth. He was once again trying to act brave, but the truth was that he was scared. Kuro cupped his face and leaned down to kiss him. Just as his lips were about to touch, Kuro suddenly felt a splitting headache.

He swam away from Keith and held his head between his hands. Keith stared at him in confusion, not understanding what was going on.

Many unintelligible voices whispered in Kuro’s head, until he could only hear one. A voice he knew very well.

Why are you wasting your time with that useless omega?

It was Haggar.

“I haven’t forgotten my mission.” Kuro answered back.

King Alfor and his daughter are still alive.

“Not for long. Once I’m done with my brother they are next.”

Their defenses have weakened after the damage you caused. Now should be the time for you to strike, not hide.

Keith could do nothing but watch as Kuro stood there, talking out loud to no one.

“I’m not hiding. My brother will come for his mate. And when he does, I will kill him. His friends and Alfor’s daughter will be next. And I will present King Alfor’s head to Zarkon myself.”

Haggar stayed quiet, as if considering if she could really rely on Kuro to carry on their plans.

Do not fail. She warned him.

Kuro shook his head as Haggar’s voice faded away from his mind. He looked back to Keith, but now something else caught his attention. The light pink seashell that Keith wore as a necklace.

Kuro had noticed that his brother also adorned a similar one. He once again leaned closer to Keith, loving the way the poor thing was shaking so much. He grabbed the seashell and tugged hard until the string snapped.

Keith glared daggers at him as Kuro briefly inspected the seashell, trying to understand if there was really something that made it so special, only to see that there was not.

“I know someone who is going to be so happy to see this.” He smiled cruelly at Keith. “Hope you don’t mind staying alone for a while.”

Before he left, he grabbed Keith by the back of his head and stole a quick kiss from him. Disgust was written all over Keith’s face once Kuro pulled away.

“I will be back soon.” He swam towards the entrance of the cave, leaving Keith completely alone.

#sheith #my writing #noncon tw

[crystal-siren]

Knowledge (Dad!Tony x Reader + Loki x Reader) Pt.3

Part 1  Part 2

@dovies666  @mymourningtea @hams-corner  @parkerrpeterr

There’s something unusual about us. Something deeply spiritual. The way we fall in one another so naturally like our love carved of the earth. There are star systems bursting at our fingertips when we touch. We are in tune. Our hearts croon the same old song. The universe planned for us. I know it. I know it. ~ Beau Taplin // In Tune

“Am I right to assume that you’ve gone completely insane?”

Y/N smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “That depends on your definition of the word.”

“How about wanting to jump into a Siberian lake during Winter?”

Turning around to face her companion, Y/N folded her arms and grinned. “I told you, its research.”

“Yeah, some research this is. You’ll freeze within seconds. How am I supposed to explain that to your parents?”

“My dear cousin,” Y/N approached him and lay a gentle hand on his arm. “My parents don’t even know I’m here.”

“Brilliant.”

Y/N smirked at his sarcastic tone and turned to walk to the end of the pier. Her eyes swept over the frozen expanse and her breath came out in puffs. “I’ve come this far,” she murmured to herself, “I can’t stop now.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Her cousin’s amused tone broke through her thoughts.

Shaking her head, Y/N took a deep breath and spoke, this time loud enough for him to hear her clearly. “Ever since you decided to help me, I have kept things from you.”

“Decided to help you? That’s not how I remember it.”

“Regardless,” Y/N turned to face him and was surprised to find him only an arm’s length away. “I haven’t told you the real reason for everything I’ve been doing these past two years.”

"You mean you’re about to tell me why you’ve stolen all that information ? Why you’ve used your position to gain access to otherwise classified and protected documents?” Her cousin’s blue eyes searched her face for any kind of answer.

Y/N nodded. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way, but, yes.”

“Well?”

Y/N bit her lip before letting out a shuddering breath. “I made a promise.”

“You made a promise? A promise to what, convince the world you’ve lost your mind? That you’ve completely lost it?” The disbelief and incredulity in his tone was almost visible.

“It was nothing like that and you know it,” Y/N was struggling to stay calm.

“Then please enlighten me.” There was an edge to her cousin’s voice that she had not heard before. “Because right now, I’m having a hard time trying to understand what kind of person would require such a promise from you.”

“He-” Y/N broke off and looked down at her hands. “He didn’t require anything of me. It was I who made the promise, not him.”

“What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

Y/N turned away from him and moved to stand near the end of the pier. She did not answer right away, her eyes fixated on the partially frozen surface below. When she spoke, however, her voice was soft, like a breath of wind. “I love him.”

Silence answered her statement. Not waiting for her cousin to respond, Y/N dropped the heavy coat she wore and shivered as the icy Siberian air hit her skin. The last thing she heard was her cousin’s protests before the cold water surrounded her.

~ ~ ~

“Look, the sky is so beautiful tonight.” Her eyes shone like the stars above them.

Indeed it was, a calm quiet spring night with not even the slightest breeze to disturb them.

“It is times like these that make me believe we are the only two people in existence.”

He soon found himself agreeing with her. Never in his life would he have imagined himself to be as happy as he was with her. “If only that were true.”

Sighing contentedly, she lay her head on his shoulder, her Y/F/C locks spilling over his shoulder. “For tonight, let us pretend that it is.”

Kissing the top of her head, he rested his chin amongst her coloured curls. “For you my love, I will.”

“I don’t want to go” she murmured and curled an arm around his waist, her face buried in his shoulder.

“Then don’t,” he whispered and held her closer.

 “I must,” she lifted her head and met his gaze. “I must keep the promise I made.”

“What promise?”

“The promise to find you.”

 Blinking, Loki sat up. She often visited him in that manner. Dreams, nightmares and visions. His escape from the isolation that was his punishment. The books his mother brought soon bored him and sight of the same four walls was slowly driving him mad.

The memory of her voice floated around the cell and he closed his eyes in an effort to escape back to where she was. He had no such luck. Sighing in frustration, he bent to retrieve a discarded book when a sudden coldness engulfed him. A bone-chilling cold that seemed to pulse ever-so-slightly. He had never felt anything like it.

Looking at his hands, he noticed that they had not shifted to the blue of his natural Jotun form. Confused, he cast a reflection spell but did not see himself.

Distorted sun rays soon made it clear that what he was looking at was underwater. A figure soon came into view and Loki did not have to guess who that was. Her coloured hair hung suspended in the water as she swam. She seemed to be swimming upwards. Her hands reached the surface first. But they did not pass through the water as expected. The surface was hard and would not yield even when she slammed her fists against it.

It was then that the prince saw fear enter her beautiful eyes. Her lips were clamped shut in order to preserve the precious air she had left. She began to claw at the ice, her actions becoming weaker as more time passed.

~ ~ ~

Y/N was beginning to panic, no matter how hard she hit or clawed, the ice would not give way. Surely her cousin would be hearing this? Y/N was tempted to call out to him with what strength and air she had left.

Her lungs were burning. The need for oxygen was becoming paramount. Her desperate eyes searched her surroundings and soon locked onto the submerged leg of the pier. Swimming up to it, she began to claw at the ice surrounding it. Still to no avail. Seeing no other options, she opened her mouth and screamed as best as one could underwater. “NIKOLAS!” A rush of bubbles accompanied the word.

When no immediate response came, her panic increased. Y/N refused to give up. She had made a promise and she’d be damned before letting anything make her break it. Her bruised and bloodied hands pounded on the ice and with fast dwindling reserves of air, she continued to call for her cousin.

~ ~ ~

Loki hated it. Watching her trapped under ice and fighting to survive. He loathed how helpless he felt. Unable to help her in anyway. Forced to stand and watch while the woman he loved could very well be living her last moments.

The cold had not left him. If anything, it had gotten worse. He heard the fear and panic in her voice as she called for someone named Nikolas. In any other situation, Loki would have been jealous. But now, he simply prayed and begged that this person would hear her.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “if you can hear me, I beg you not give up. I beg you to keep fighting. I beg you to live.”

~ ~ ~

She thought she was hearing things. The lack of air seemed to playing tricks on her oxygen-deprived brain. The voice, his voice, seemed to come from everywhere. It surrounded her with a comforting warmth and closing her eyes, she saw two emerald-eyes look back at her. Pleading with her to keep going.

Open your eyes, they seemed to say, open them. Stay awake! Keep fighting. Don’t you dare give up. Wake up and keep going.

 ~ ~ ~

Loki watched in frozen horror as her eyes remained closed despite his pleas. Her hands, which had been raised to break the ice, now hung suspended in the water. Her lips, a dark shade of purple, were curved in a gentle smile.

The prince watched in agonizing helplessness, his eyes scanning her for any signs of life. Even in such a state, he found himself mesmerised by her. Even now, he hoped and prayed that her eyes would open, that she would continue to fight like the survivor he knew her to be.

 “Keep fighting woman! Damn you, don’t you dare stop.” A shuddering breath escaped him. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice choked with the tears he was struggling to hold back. “I won’t survive.”

His eyes remained trained on her, they did not leave her, not even when the ice above her was finally broken. Not even when she was lifted into the arms of her cousin. Wrapped in thick towels and furs, Y/N was carried away, her beautiful eyes closed to the world. Her elegant form limp in her cousin’s arms.

“May we meet again, my love,” he whispered. “I promise you, that my soul will find no rest until it has found yours.”

Braving one last look at the reflection, he saw only himself, and the Queen who stood silently behind him.

If his mother’s presence startled him, Loki refused to show it. Pushing himself off the bed, he stood and faced the older woman.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than he intended.

“Is a mother not permitted to see her son?”

“You are not my mo-”

“I am not your birth mother,” Frigga cut him off with a sad smile. “That I know. You have reminded me many times these past two years. But I raised you and loved you, I still love you. That makes me as much your mother as the one that gave birth to you.”

Loki could not find the right words to say to such a statement. Turning away from her, he fought against the tears that came every time she spoke that way.

“Who is she?” Frigga asked in a soft voice.

Loki knew full well who she was talking about. He briefly considered lying even though he knew that Frigga would easily see through him. “Who?”

“The young woman in the reflection.”

Taking a deep breath, Loki turned to face her. “She was a mortal I became acquainted with during my time on Midgard.”

“A mortal you say?” Frigga was intrigued, to say the least. What was it about this young woman in particular that had snagged the attention of her younger son? 

“Yes.”

Frigga nodded thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving him. “A very headstrong young woman, to be sure.”

“How would you know such a thing?” Loki narrowed his eyes at the Queen and kept his tone neutral.

“I do believe your brother spoke of her. A mortal woman with hair and eyes unlike any he has seen before. Of such a vivid colour that it would be impossible to lose her within a crowd of thousands.” Frigga smiled in memory of Thor’s description of the young lady. “A mortal who valued knowledge above all else.”

The image of Y/N clutching her book to her chest came unbidden to the forefront of Loki’s memory. Her Y/F/C hair was tousled from sleep but her eyes were bright with curiosity.

“You like to read?” He heard himself ask.

“Yes. I do.” She answered, “if you ask my parents, they would say I spend more time reading than in the company of actual people.”

Frigga watched her son closely. His eyes seemed to be seeing something else, something far away. A sad smile graced his features. In that moment, the prince seemed to forget he had company and dropped the masks of arrogance and indifference.

Frigga decided that perhaps it was best that she left without telling him. If memories offered him a respite from the isolation and loneliness, who was she to take that away from him ?

~ ~ ~

The first thing Y/N noticed upon opening her eyes was how warm it was. Her e/c eyes were immediately drawn to a large fireplace.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her cousin knelt by the fire and smirked at her from over his shoulder. “I hate to say it but, I did say this was going to happen.”

“Doesn’t sound like you hate to say it,” Y/N shot back, her voice a little hoarse. Her eyes sparkled with mischief despite her weakened state.

“Oh no you don’t,” Nikolas left the fire and came to sit on the bed beside her. “You almost drowned in a partially frozen lake, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” she protested and grinned.

“You don’t have to,” Nikolas tried and failed to look serious. The relief he felt at seeing her awake was evident. “You gave me a real scare there cuz.”

“I did?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Sure you did,” Nikolas reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “When I heard you calling my name from under the ice, I thought I was imagining things. But when I saw you there, floating beneath the ice with your eyes closed, I feared the worst.”

Y/N snuggled in closer, grateful for the familiarity that came from family. “How exactly did you break through all that ice?”

“I hit the ice more times than I’d like to count, until finally I broke through and pulled you out.” He looked down and gently rubbed her arm, as though he was remembering how cold she had felt that day, her lips a dark shade of purple and her skin pale.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nikolas asked, changing the topic slightly.

Y/N shook her head. “It wasn’t there. I mean, it was once, but someone must have come before me.”

“Do you know who it could be?” Nikolas had no idea why he was even encouraging this.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her eyes narrowed in thought before widening as her mind locked onto an idea. “SHIELD. They took it. They must have.” The conviction in her voice startled her cousin.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded, “positive. Think Nikolas, who else could it be?!”

“Oh gee,” her cousin got up and returned to the fire. “There could be any number of people out there, looking for the same thing as you. Besides,” he turned back to her, “what was it you were looking for anyway? It must have been pretty important for you to knowingly risk your life like that.”

“It was a stone.”

“A stone? You almost drowned for a stone?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes seemed to go distant. “This stone was the last piece, the piece I have been looking for. The key to fulfilling the promise I made and have every intention of keeping.”

Nikolas narrowed his eyes and stared at her intently. “What is so special about this stone exactly ?”

Y/N smiled and met his piercing blue gaze. “It is known as the Stone of Transcendence.”

Nikolas blinked, perplexed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It is said,” Y/N continued, “that this stone would allow it’s bearer to go beyond the limits and reaches of this world. Legend has it, that it bore the ability to open the doorway to other worlds.”

“Other worlds?” Nikolas wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“Yes.” Her eyes seemed to come back to the present. “I was this close Nikolas,” she emphasised, “this damn close and those bastards came and stole my last chance at finding him.” The passion and anger in her voice surprised her cousin. “It’s so bloody typical.”

“Just who is this person you keep talking about?”

A small smile blossomed on her features. Her earlier anger seemingly forgotten. “Loki. His name is Loki.”

Now Nikolas was convinced, his dear cousin had finally lost her mind. “Loki ? as in the Loki? The one from Norse Mythology? The one that attacked New York two years ago?”

Y/N nodded, her smile fading a little. “To be fair, my dear cousin, he never actually went through with it.”

“Oh I’m sorry, the one that tried to attack New York.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like the answer, but you quite literally asked for it,” Y/N reminded him.

Nikolas said nothing, he simply shook his head and turned his attention back to the crackling flames in the fireplace.

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Nikolas spoke, remaining in the same position. “What could you possibly need my help for?”

“Getting the stone back.”

“No.” He stood up and faced her, “absolutely not.”

“You’re just being petty now,” Y/N grinned up at her stone-faced cousin. “You’re an intelligence agent, this is quite literally what you do.”

Nikolas stared at her as though she had grown a third eye. “I’m a spy, yes, but not a thief.”

“I’m sorry dear cousin,” Y/N met his eyes, “but I do not see the difference.”

“You seem to be forgetting a very important aspect of all of this.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and gestured for him to continue. “And that would be?”

“I’m Russian intelligence and you want me to steal something from an American intelligence organisation. How does that not spell trouble?”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “Since when have you every backed down in the face of a challenge?”

“This isn’t a challenge Y/N,” Nikolas tried to reason with her. “If anything goes wrong, America will blame Russia and we’ll have Cold War 2.”

“Oh please,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “there is no need to be so dramatic. This is hardly a war declaration. You’re simply helping me get back something that was stolen from me.”

“But you never had it.”

“Technicalities,” Y/N dismissed with a small wave, “the point is, they took it because they knew I was looking for it.”

“Do you have any idea what you sound like?”

“Like a mad genius?”

“You got the mad part right,” Nickolas shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“So,” Y/N’s eyes sparkled, “are you in?”

“I’m sorry, did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

She nodded and grinned, “sure I did.”

Nikolas soon found himself returning the expression and smiled down at her. “This plan of yours will most likely get us caught or killed.”

“Good to know you’re so confident in both of our abilities,” Y/N smirked.

“Let’s not try and start a war alright?”

Y/N nodded, her smirk widening. “I’ll do my best.”

To be continued....

Part 4

#marvel #reader insert #loki x reader #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki imagine #Thor Odinson #thor: the dark world #Avengers #Iron Man #tony stark #father & daughter #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #clint barton #hawkeye #hulk #bruce banner #Steve Rogers #captain america #beau taplin #marvel imagines

[studpuffin]

The World As We Know It: Chapter 4 

Read on AO3 

Eddie stared at his hands, looking at the blood flaking off. He curled his fingers, watching it crack against his skin.

“Eddie…”

Bev’s voice sounded far away like he was hearing her under water.

“Eddie sweetheart? Hey look at me,” Bev touched his cheek, guiding him to look up at her, “You need to wash it off, Eddie. You don’t know if he could be…” she broke off, biting her lip and looking away.

The word infected hangs in the air between them, but all of them are too scared to say it out loud. None of them wanted to think about it what would happen if one of them were to be infected. None of them even knew how it spread.

Eddie nodded, “I know I need to. I just…” he looked up at Bev, “This is all I have left of him.”

Bev gave him a small smile and shook her head, “No...no. He’s in here,” she lay her hand on his chest, “You know he is.”

Eddie nodded. It had been almost two days since Bill’s death, and Eddie had barely spoken to anyone since lighting the shed on fire. Bev had found them a secluded spot in what use to be an old campsite just outside of Bangor, and had been ecstatic to discover that the showers still worked. Which is how they ended up in the situation they were in now. Eddie laying on a bench with Bev crouched next to him, trying to gently coax him into the shower.

“Come on Eddie. Please? Gotta stay clean to keep out the infections right?” She played with his hair gently.

He nodded again, sitting up and dragging himself off the bench. He shuffled into the bathroom, bumping into Richie, jumping slightly and looking up. Richie looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked paler than usual. His nails were bitten down to nubs.

“Eds…”

Eddie looked down again, focusing intensely on his shoes.

“Eddie come on please talk to me…” Richie whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder, “I...Eds please?”

Eddie looked up, eyes raking over Richie’s face. He looked so scared and lonesome and it made Eddie’s heart ache. He missed Richie, even though they had been with each other constantly for the last 72 hours. He missed having time alone with Richie. Slowly, he moved as if to touch Richie’s cheek, but froze, seeing his hand still covered in dried blood hovering next to Richie’s pale cheek. He dropped his hand, and gave Richie a small, but genuine smile.

“Let me shower ok? Gotta wash this off,” He gestured to his hands, “But we’ll talk ok?” he stood on his tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Richie’s mouth, “We’ll talk.”

The look of relief and bliss that Richie gave him lifted some of the weight from Eddie’s chest. Not all of it. Not by a long shot.  

But it’s enough. Enough for him to get in the shower. Enough for him to scrub the blood off his hands. Enough for him to start to breathe a little easier.

Eddie dug around in his backpack, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He slipped into his clothes and pulled on his sneakers before slowly heading out into the dimming evening sun. Richie was sitting there waiting for him, staring out into the woods. He was smoking a cigarette and looked so fucking beautiful that it made Eddie’s heart ache.

“Thought you quit those things,” he whispered, sitting down next to him on the bench.

Richie just shrugged, “Figured what’s the point anymore. It’s not like living a long life is really in my future now.”

“Don’t say that,” Eddie snapped, “Don’t you fucking dare,” he took Richie’s free hand between both of his own and rest his head on his shoulder, “I don’t know what I’d do if you died,” He whispered, “I... l-” he broke off, took a steadying breath and started again, “I love you Rich.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t love me Eds,” his voice still sounded wrecked and raw, “I’m a fucking murderer remember? You should be fucking disgusted by me.”

“You’re not a murder.”

“I killed two people in the last 72 hours. What the fuck else would I be?” he snapped, flicking some of the ash of his cigarette, dark eyes following it’s path to the dirt, “I’m scared Eds,” he looked over at him, “I’m scared that whatever makes these monsters...I’m scared that I’m already one. Doesn’t it scare you? That I’m willing to kill for you?” his voice shook a little.

And that was the thing. It should have scared Eddie shitless to see Richie like that. It should have made him sick to his stomach. He should be angry and scared and terrified.

“No. It doesn’t scare me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m willing to die for you,” Eddie met his gaze and felt his skin tingle, “I love you Richie. So fuck what’s smart or right anymore.”

Richie flicked his cigarette out, and pulled Eddie into his lap, “I love you too Eddie. In case you needed further confirmation of that.”

Even though he really didn’t, it was nice to hear anyway. Eddie curled his fingers loosely into Richie’s curls and pulled him close, kissing him softly, smiling a little as Richie kissed back. Eddie let himself enjoy the moment, memorizing the slide of Richie’s tongue against his own, the feeling of long, callused fingers lacing with his smaller ones. Even though they were fairly out in the open, he felt safe. Their campsite was far off the path. They had food. Running water. They could stay here, at least for a couple days to catch their breath.

And he was kissing Richie.

And then a stab of guilt wormed its way into his chest. It didn’t feel fair. He still had Richie. Both of them had escaped the last few days relatively unscathed while Mike was pretty beat up, Bill was dead and Stan, Bev, and Ben were all dealing the trauma of watching one of their best friends shoot a guy in the stomach.

Eddie pulled back from Richie with a jerk, “It isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t fair Eds?” Richie murmured, leaning in to capture his lips again.

“We can’t be together Rich,” he whispered, “It’s not fair to Stan…”

“Stan has Mike.”

“But Bill was-”

“No they ALL were,” Richie gave him a pointed look and a little nod down the hill to where Mike and Stan were sitting curled together under a tree next to the car. Stan was gripping Mike’s hand, and he looked close to tears again as he said something they couldn’t hear.

“They would be together if I saved him,” Eddie whispered.

“Eddie…” Richie cupped his face so Eddie was looking at him, “Baby come on. Don’t blame yourself for that. There was nothing you could have done.”

“You don’t know that Richie. There’s blood on my hands. My best friend’s blood. My brother’s blood,” he shook his head “I could have done more. I could have found a way…”

“Eddie, you said it yourself, you’re not a fucking surgeon,” Richie pulled him closer, “And just because you were going to be premed next year doesn’t make you qualified, physically or mentally, to start ripping through someone’s body because you had a hunch you could save him if you did something differently. His lungs were ruptured Eds. There’s nothing any of us could have done.”

Eddie nodded solemnly, “I guess so…”

“You did everything you could. No one blames you Eds…”

Eddie nodded, pushing off Richie’s lap, “I need to talk to him. To Stan.” he whispered.

Richie nodded, “And Eds?” he grabbed his hand.

“Yeah?”

“No more breakup talk ok? You’re kinda all I’ve got going for me right now,” he had the familiar teasing tone in his voice, but Eddie could see the fear in his eyes.

Eddie smiled and leaned over to peck his lips softly, “No more break up talk. Promise.”

Eddie settled on the ground next to Stan and squeezed his arm gently, “Hey…”

Stan didn’t look up at him, “Hey.”

“Stan...Stan, I’m so sorry,” Eddie whispered, “I wish I could have saved him. You know I did everything I could. You know that right?”

Stan looked up at him, “I know. I know you did,” he took Eddie’s hand gently, “I know you did everything you could.”

“Are you mad?” Eddie whispered.

“No. I’m sad. Heartbroken. But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for not staying and helping. Had I been there...I could have done something if I wasn’t such a goddamn coward,” he whispered.

“Hey no,” Eddie grabbed his hand, “You were scared. It’s natural to be scared…” he hugged him tightly, “It’s not your fault,” he promised, pulling Stan closer, “It’s no one’s fault.”  

Stan buried his face in Eddie’s neck, “It’s no one’s fault.” he repeated, curling in closer.

Eddie nodded, “You gonna be ok?” he rubbed Stan’s back gently, smiling a little when he felt him nod, “Good.”

Mike sat down from where he had been leaning against a tree on Stan’s other side and put an arm around him, “Eddie...I wanna say thank you.”

Eddie blinked in surprise, “Thank me? For what?”

Mike squeezed his hand, “When he was...When Bill was dying,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath, “You were the one who jumped into action to try to save him. You were the one who wanted to bury him. You were the one brave enough to do what had to be done in that moment,” he cupped Eddie’s cheek gently, “No one blames you, you got that? No one blames you for what happened to Bill. Least of all Stan and me.”

And finally, Eddie let himself do what he had been too afraid to do for past week.

He started to cry. Body shaking, heaving sobs. For his mother, for Bill, for the countless other innocent people who were dead and dying all around them. For Richie, who’s never-ending optimism and energy was getting weaker and weaker by the day. For Bev and Ben who were holding it together so well for the rest of them even though they both were grieving immensely themselves.

And selfishly, he cried for himself and for the life he was never going to get to live.

Hands covering her mouth. Hands pulling at her clothes and knocking her to the ground. Cold fingers closing around her throat with nails that dug into her skin.

Bev gasped, sitting up from where she had fallen asleep next to the van. She let her head fall back against the cool metal as she attempted to catch her breath. She shivered slightly, pulling one of Ben’s sweatshirts from her bag and pulling it on. She stood slowly, still desperately trying to push the memories of where she had been before Mike, Bill, and Ben had found her. She sat down next to Richie where he was building a campfire.

“Hey Ditchie,” she smiled a little, bumping her shoulder with his. As much as she tried to sound casual, her voice came out tight and strained, like those cold hands were still clamped down around her throat.

Richie looked up, “Hey Levie,” he rocked back off his feet, landing on his butt next to her, “You look like hell on roller skates.”

“Not like you look any better,” she shot back easily, taking his hand in hers, “You got a smoke?”

“Like you need to ask,” he reached into his jacket pocket, “Stole basically the whole display stand from Keene’s before we booked it,” he passed her one and his zippo, “Not like he’s gonna miss ‘em.”

“Wow theft and murder,” she grinned, “Workin’ your way down the list?”

Richie snorted, “Something like that. Kinda pissed Eds beat me to the punch with arson.”

“Nah you’ll still get your chance at arson for sure. What about grand theft auto? We’ll probably need a car eventually,” She was barely holding back her giggles. She looked up locking eyes with Richie and suddenly they were both doubled up with laughter, laying side by side in the dirt. Richie rolled onto his side and squeezed her hand.

“Hey, Bevs.”

“Hi, Richie.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

She shrugged, “In the normal world I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Shit, you’re the one who got upset when Bill killed that spider.”

“It wasn’t bothering anyone! He was just being a chicken,”

“The point is,” she cuddled closer to him, “I know that in the real world, in our real lives that we were supposed to get, you would never have done those things. You did it to save someone you love.”

Richie nodded, letting the sounds of the woods settle around them.

“Do you miss him?”

“Of course I miss him,” Bev’s voice was small, “He saved my life you know. When the outbreak started.”

Richie shook his head “I had no idea…”

She nodded, “Pulled two of them off me after he and Ben came looking for me,” she whispered, “I loved him. I loved him so much Rich,” she murmured, “He was one of my best friends. Anything I needed he was there for me. He was always so...when we were kids before I met the rest of you, he was the only guy who treated me like I was just a girl. Not something to fuck.”

Richie nodded, “I miss him too. When Stan and I weren’t in the same class in first grade, he was the one who came to talk to me. He’s the reason I know Eddie,” Richie smiled, “I loved him too. Probably too much when I was a kid.”

They lay there quietly watching the flames from the campfire lick upwards towards the darkened sky, wrapped, momentarily, in the warmth of comfortable silence

The six of them sat curled around the campfire, eating partially warmed canned spaghetti, and they all collectively seemed to be breathing a little easier, although it was impossible not to notice the presence that was missing from their group.

“I have an idea,” Richie suddenly stood and sprinted towards the car.

“That’s dangerous,” Stan mumbled, picking at his food.

“Have faith in me, Stan!” Richie called over his shoulder as he rummaged through the trunk. With a small cheer, he pulled back, holding a glass bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. He plopped down between Bev and Eddie, uncapping it and taking a hearty sip.

“Richie...it isn’t safe,” Stan cautioned, “We have to be ready to move at a moments notice and I don’t think we should be-”

“Stan,” Richie cut in, “One sip is not going to kill you. It’s been a long fucking week. We’re safe here. Deserve it.”

Stan looked like he wanted to argue back but then softened, “Give it here then,” he mumbled, “Where did you even get it?”

“All part of my master criminal image Stan the Man.”

“Richie you’re about as edgy as a butter knife,” Eddie teased, smiling as Richie pulled him into his arms and passed him the bottle.

Once the bottle had made its way around the circle, Richie picked it up and poured as shot out into the fire, making them all jump as the flames leaped upwards, “For Bill,” he whispered somberly.

A chorus of “For Bill echoed around the fire, and as they silence fell, they all could have sworn they heard a familiar voice whisper back to them through the dark.

Tag list: @tinyarmedtrex @dyslexictozier @sunflowertozier @richietoaster @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @totaltozier @richardxtozier @reddie-for-anything @aizeninlefox @reddiepop @oldguybones @its-stranger-than-you-think @yallreddieforthis @richardtoz  @alocalsuburbanmom

#reddie #reddie fan fiction #reddie fanfic #readdie fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #The World As We Know It

[onlyone-cannoli]

edge of the dark (1/3)

nicole is good at being strong - she always has been. but that doesn't mean the nightmares aren't still there, sitting in corners, lurking at the edge of the dark

(part one of a three chap wayhaught fic because obviously the only time to write is when i have countless other Important Things to do. also on ao3.)

I. Nicole, December 1999

She had her first nightmare a week after she turned seven, two months after they buried Dad.

For two months, everything was fine. She’d cried a lot, of course, when it first happened - when Officer Connor showed up at the door without his usual smile, and she watched Mom crumple to the floor like her legs had turned into paper, sobbing into Officer Connor’s shirt so hard that it sort of scared her - but it seemed like everyone sort of fell apart, in the beginning. She’d even caught Jesse sniffling in his room once or twice, and he never cried. But he’d told her they had to be strong, for Mom.

Nicole was good at being strong. She knew, because Dad had always told her so, and she never had any problems standing up to the bullies at school, and she won at least half the time when Jesse tried to wrestle her even though he was always a couple inches taller, and she could almost, almost keep up with Dad when he raced them down the street to the bus stop.

So Nicole was strong, and she didn’t cry when they went to the vigil, where hundreds of people gathered outside the police station, holding candles up into the chilly October night as an endless string of adults took turns standing at a podium to tell them that Officer Haught was a hero. It had been fun, at first, because she got to stay out late and Mom let her hold two candles when Jesse only got one, but it didn’t take long for Nicole to get bored. She already knew Dad was a hero, from the way he always got up extra early when it snowed to shovel Mrs. Carson’s driveway, and the way he knew the answers to her and Jesse’s homework without ever having to look it up, and how he always managed to fix the car by himself when it broke even though Mom told him  just call the mechanic, Jason , and he always smiled at everyone, even if they were being mean or rude. (Oh, and because he caught bad guys, of course.)

So it all seemed a little silly to sit around and talk about it, but Nicole didn’t mind in the end because it seemed to make Mom feel better and Dad was a hero, after all, and Nicole was unbearably proud of him.

For days after the funeral, people showed up at the house with food and flowers and cards, speaking in low voices and saying things like he’s in a better place, sweetie, and he’ll always be with you. They milled around, sitting with Mom and looking at old pictures, pockets stuffed with tissues and wearing smiles so sad that Nicole wondered why they even bothered smiling at all.

Nicole didn’t like it, the way the sadness and the quiet sat so thick in the air that it made her feel like she was suffocating, so she tried not to stay in the house. She tagged along with Jesse and his friends whenever she could, and rode her bike down to the library with Kelly after school, and helped Mrs. Carson rake the leaves in her yard. And after a couple weeks, everything sort of went back to normal.

Normal, except that the house felt a little bigger and emptier, without Dad’s booming laugh bouncing off the walls and his big feet clunking up and down the creaky stairs and the music he always played on Sunday mornings while he made pancakes. And she still caught Mom crying sometimes, when she thought she and Jesse were playing outside or watching TV. Nicole tried her best to cheer her up, but when she told Mom she wanted to catch bad guys like Dad when she grew up, it only ever seemed to make her cry harder.

And Nicole wasn’t dumb - she knew what death was. She knew a bad guy had shot Dad while he was at work and that he was dead, that he wasn’t ever coming back. It was like when their old cat, Obi, had gotten hit by a car in the street and they’d rushed him to the vet, who said he was in too much pain and had to be "put down”, which meant like sleeping but forever. And Nicole had cried, and Dad had gently squeezed her shoulders and told her that it was all part of the circle of life, that Obi had been a good cat and it was simply his time to go. And as they said goodbye, he held her hand and explained that death could be scary and very sad, but it wasn’t the end and being scared of it wasn’t any reason not to be brave - and sometimes being brave meant staying behind and trying to be happy.

It’s okay to be sad, Nicky. Being sad is part of being strong, too.

And Nicole was strong, so she tried to be happy and brave the way that Dad had taught her to be, the way that would make Dad proud.

So everything was fine, until she had the nightmare.

She dreamed that it was just another morning before school, and she and Jesse and Dad were dashing out the front door with Mom’s shout of slow down you’ll break your necks drifting after them as they raced down the street toward the bus stop. Jesse fell behind after the first few steps, but she and Dad were neck and neck almost the whole way and Nicole thought maybe, maybe today she would finally beat him. But all of a sudden, Dad started speeding up, bounding forward on his long legs, and when he reached the bus stop he just kept going. And Nicole ran and ran, trying to keep up with him even as he got farther and farther away, and she tried to yell stop, Daddy, I’m tired but the air was searing her lungs and her throat was burning and she could feel her legs getting weaker until she finally slipped on a patch of ice and went tumbling to the ground. She landed hard enough that it knocked the breath out of her and she laid there, crying stop, Daddy, please come back, between big gulps of air, and the wind was gusting and blowing the snow around so that when she looked up she could barely see Dad anymore, just a shadow in the distance; could barely hear his voice calling her name through the howling wind, Nicky, Nicky; and she tried to get back to her feet only to find that the ice had frozen her legs to the ground, and when the snow finally cleared Dad was gone - and that was how Nicole woke up, pillow wet and arms and legs twisted in the sheets, the winter wind gusting into her room through an open window, nearly freezing the tears on her cheeks.

She quickly rubbed her face on her blanket and untangled herself, jumping out of bed to slam the window shut. She stood there for a moment with her eyes closed, shivering in her pajamas, and when she opened her eyes again it seemed like the wind was carrying Dad’s voice - Nicky, Nicky - and the shadows felt like they were creeping in closer from the corners of the room, like the nightmares were waiting for her, sitting on the edge of the dark.

She left her room and padded down the hallway, sniffling and hugging herself, and pushed through Jesse’s door without knocking, which she knew he hated but she always forgot.

“Wha - ” She saw Jesse’s head poke out from underneath his sheets as the light from the hallway hit his bed, and he shielded his eyes and squinted blearily at her. “Nic?”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and took a few hesitant steps toward Jesse. It’s okay to be sad, Nicky. “I miss Dad.”

There was a beat of silence before Jesse replied, his voice small and quiet in the darkness. “I do, too.”

Nicole sniffled again, hugging herself a little tighter. She was afraid Jesse would tell her to go away, to go back to her room, but he sat up and motioned for her to come closer. She shuffled forward and watched as he took something out from under his pillow and pressed it into her hand.

She didn’t even have to really see it to recognize what it was, but she turned and held it up in the light anyway. The face glinted gold and silver, and she felt a strange twinge in her chest. Dad’s badge.

She tightened her grip around it and let her arm fall. She couldn’t quite make out Jesse’s face in the dark.

“Thanks, Jesse.”

“Officer Connor gave it to me,” he said. “Dad would want you to have it.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded and turned to leave, but only made it as far as the door before she stopped.

“Jes?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to sleep by myself.”

Jesse didn’t reply, and for a second she thought maybe he hadn’t heard, or maybe he was ignoring her, but then she heard the rustling of blankets and the quiet creak of bedsprings. She turned around to see that Jesse had shifted himself over to the far side of the bed, making room for her.

“Just tonight. And don’t hog the blankets.”

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #wayhaught fic #okay its really more of a nicole haught fic but #there's wayhaught somewhere in there later #anyway #talk to me about nicole

[wordsablaze]

(1) Broken Walls Lead To Tears

Stubbornly In Love Magnus and Alec are two beautiful souls that both happen to be in love, heartbroken, and painfully stubborn. An angsty malec fic prompted by this lovely soul! Enjoy!

A/N: So I was taking too long to write this as a oneshot and decided to make it chaptered! Yay? Also, it’s not beta-read so feel free to point out mistakes!

The immediate pain of a break-up is nothing – nothing at all – in comparison to the pain that surfaces after you've unleashed your rage and experienced the rush of both grief and relief. The pain that comes after you've realised your decision and come to terms with the loss of someone who held, and maybe still holds, a place in your heart is simply ineffable.

Magnus knows this, and he knew this in the moments before he made his choice, but knowledge doesn't always prevent the shock usually accompanying matters of the heart. He knew, he absolutely knew, what it would feel like, but he hadn't imagined how different it would feel to all those times before. He's an immortal and he's not subtle, nor is he shy, so it's safe to say he's had more than his fair share of relationships, both cherished, unforgettable ones and regrettable, quickly erased ones. Nothing he's ever experienced, however, had prepared him for the agony of parting ways and breaking ties with Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

If obliteration and annihilation had a child, it might come close to resembling the state of his heart.

And yet, he can't bring himself to face the Shadowhunter. He can't bring himself to go back, to talk about what happened, to discuss how they're meant to function - he just can't.

His life becomes a blur. He can remember little details and information necessary to his responsibilities or reputation but he can't recall his routine or which event came before what. Time and time again, he finds himself eating cereal at ten in the evening or making himself sandwiches at ungodly times, mostly very, very late at night or very, very early in the morning. He's almost forgotten what makeup is because the only time he wears it is when he's meeting a client - not that he remembers much of the meetings, simply taking and completing their request as if on autopilot.

Parties are a thing of the past because he knows he can't pay attention to so many people at once and he knows that would reveal his pained heart much more than necessary. He's the High Warlock, he tells himself, he can't be seen as weak or compromised. He wants to be strong, he wants to be brave, he wants to be fierce, but he can't even feed his cat - not that Chairman Meow isn't good at finding his own meals from time to time - and he feels so useless, so utterly useless, that even talking to someone else requires more energy than he can possess, never mind a huge crowd of semi-drunk guests with high expectations.

It's another regular, robotic day when the doorbell scares the life out of him. It wouldn't normally have any effect at all but he'd been so focused on staring at the bluebells on his window, he'd forgotten that people tend to announce their presence by pressing a button outside his apartment. Regardless, he jumps to his feet, pulling the door open as fast as he can, which, admittedly, is pretty slow. So slow, in fact, that he doesn't register who's at the door until they've wrapped him in an embrace so warm it makes him want to cry.

"Cat..." Magnus whispers, letting his head drop on her shoulder and inhaling the scent of flowers coupled with disinfectant.

He assumes she closes the door because then they're on the couch before he can blink and she's sitting opposite him, both of them with their legs crossed. She creates a blanket and drapes it around his shoulders, smiling sadly.

"I thought you'd never let me in."

Magnus blinks and bites his lip, avoiding her gaze, not wanting her pity. She waits patiently and when he looks up, he finds only concern in her eyes, making him realise that she knows him better than he thinks and he should stop forgetting that. She's not someone he has to be invincible in front of because she's seen him at his worst and stayed with him and he knows she cares enough to put up with anything he goes through because they both know he'd do - and has done - the same for her.

"It says something, you know?" Catarina fills the silence. "It says something that you've given up on keeping me out."

He shrugs; what can he say to that?

"Magnus, I love and respect you, I really do, but you're acting so unlike yourself I can't help but wonder if you make the right decision."

He looks up, swallowing. "I don't know."

The accusation in her eyes softens. "Magnus, are you sure about leaving the shadowhunter? As far as I could see - which is further than you think and sometimes a bit too far - you were the happiest you've ever been with him."

"I know, Cat, but..."

"This isn't like before, Magnus. He was ready to accept you and you, him. It was working..."

Tears form in his eyes. Tears that were evoked long ago, as soon as the love of his life had parted ways with him, as soon as he'd chosen isolation, as soon as he'd shut off the world and crumpled into a powerless shell of shadowed love. The tears fall, finally having the chance to do so, and he can't do anything to stop his vision blurring as his shoulders shake and his breath becomes rocky. They fall incessantly, creating a glistening path along his skin and hindering his ability to argue.

Catarina, like many times before, simply pulls him close and lets him hide his face on her shoulders, his hair tickling the side of his face as he struggles to contain his sobs.

"Oh, Magnus..."

He can't reply, of course; there are few people who can form sentences when sobbing long overdue sobs. Catarina, feeling helpless, just hold him tight and hold her own tears back because melancholy does not suit a soul usually laced with glitter and happiness, a soul radiating confidence and style, a soul full of love and hope and magic.

It's not cute and it's far from beautiful when Magnus cries because when he cries, it means he's held it in for far too long, for longer than most could tolerate. His walls are so high and so deep that to break them is more or less break him but love is a powerful weapon when it wants to be and nobody can arm themselves against it. For Magnus, who's built his walls out of his experiences, to cry is to reveal the city of sadness unusually buried deep underneath his self-designed shields.

It takes the sun to set for Magnus' eyes to exhaust themselves. He inhales and exhales as if he's never had the luxury of breathing before, slowly but surely quietening until he can look Catarina in the eye without his face crumpling.

"Cat... I..."

She shushes him. "Magnus, I'm not ever going to leave you when you need me. Mundanes get ill all the time but it's not every day your oldest friend needs a shoulder to cry on so don't you dare apologise to me."

Despite his tearful eyes, Magnus smiles. It's a small smile, much smaller than his usual smirks and grins and beams, but it's a gesture of appreciation and progressing happiness nonetheless. He pulls back as he says, "Thank you."

"How about we get you to bed and talk about this tomorrow, huh?" Catarina suggests, not really waiting for an answer before taking Magnus' hand and pulling him up, leading him to the spare bedroom because she knows going into his usual one will only bring back loved, painful memories of Alec and Magnus will once again have a sleepless night or worse, one plagued with nightmares.

It seems expelling his bottled grief through his eyes has tired Magnus out as he doesn't complain when she all but manhandles him under the duvet, gently pulling it up over his body and gradually dimming the lights until it's almost too dark for them to see each other. She watches as Magnus' tired eyes droop and his eyelids meet as he struggles to stay awake, apparently not wanting to succumb to slumber just yet.

"Sleep well, Magnus," Catarina whispers, pushing his disheveled hair away from his closing his eyes and waiting until his breathing evens - which doesn't take long because he's barely slept lately - before leaving the room, gently closing the door so as not to wake him up again and then placing wards around his apartment because, whether or not he'd realised, they're weaker than ever, practically an invitation for ignorant, morally corrupt, enemies to take advantage and attack.

She wonders how long this can go on.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

#malec #angst #romance #catarina #magnus bane #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #alexander lightwood #magnus x alec #fanfiction #fanfic #tmi #my writing #stubbornly in love #hurt magnus bane #sad magnus bane #au

[toosicktoocare]

(Here I am forcing myself through writer’s block.) 

Summary: Keith and Lance go to a lake during the summer, and by accident, Keith almost drowns. He thinks he’s fine afterwards, but by nightfall, he and Lance both learn that Keith is in fact not okay.

The sun is warm against Keith’s back as he toes the cool water. A light breeze teases at loose strands of his hair that managed to slip from his hairband as he cups one hand above his eyes to look out at the crystal clear lake that seems so small yet so big at the same time.

“Hurry up before I die of old age!”

Keith’s eye twitches out of annoyance, but he obliges, dropping his hand and jogging into the water until he’s sliding forward to swim the rest of the way toward Lance, who is floating on his back in the center of the lake. By the time Keith reaches the brunet, he’s having to kick his legs repeatedly to keep himself afloat for he can no longer feel the bottom of the lake with his feet.

Keith flips around until he’s floating on his back beside Lance, and their hands lazily find one another until their fingers are laced together.

“I think this one may be my favorite.”

Keith hums in agreement. Every summer, he and Lance leave the city in search of lakes. They searched for this one based on a hunch after hearing a store clerk talk about a mystical lake buried deep in the woods on the East side of town. Neither expected to find it, and yet, after an hour of hiking through trees, they came across a clearing that housed the lake.

“You fall asleep on me?”

Keith drags his gaze from the sky toward Lance, and he arches one brow in question.

“You’re quiet. Thought you fell asleep, and I was going to have to save your ass from drowning.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “I’m pretty sure not being able to breathe underwater would wake me up.”

“Don’t ruin my dream of wanting to be the hero, Keith, geez.”

“Sorry, would you like me to almost drown so you can save me?” Keith’s voice is dripping in sarcasm, and he slides his gaze back toward the sky just as Lance scoffs beside him and tightens his grip on Keith’s hand.

“No, don’t be an idiot.” Lance falls quiet after that, but after a few moments, he mutters, “I would save you, though.”

Keith jerks his hand away in favor of splashing water all across Lance’s face, leaving the brunet shifting around and sputtering as he blinks water from his eyes.

Lance’s eyes narrow dangerously just as a smile teases at the corner of Keith’s lips.

“We doing this?” Lance asks, and Keith cocks his head slightly to the side.

“Sure, but it’s your funeral.” The second the words leave Keith’s mouth, Lance pounces on him hard enough that both shoot underwater.

*****

“Admit defeat,” Keith says with Lance in a headlock, and Lance tries to struggle free, but Keith’s arm is entirely too strong.

“Fine,” Lance mutters, and Keith, satisfied, releases Lance, only to barely hold an arm up to block a massive splash directed toward his face.

“Sore loser,” he mutters as he spits water out, and Lance breathes out a loud huff.

“You play dirty.”

Keith shrugs and flips around until he’s once again on his back, chest rising and falling rapidly as his lungs work to slow his heartbeat back down. For an hour, he and Lance messed around in their water war games; they are childish, but what’s the harm in doing something youthful every now and then?

“I’m going to grab an apple. You coming?”

“Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.” Keith tells Lance, and Lance presses one gentle kiss to his forehead before swimming back toward shore. Keith smiles, brushing his fingers against the small spot on his forehead still tingling from the damp kiss, but his smile drops away to a straight line of curiosity when something brushes against the back of his leg.

He sucks in a large breath and dives under, braving the sting of the water as he slowly opens his eyes. He spots a tree branch drifting away and concludes that that was what touched him, but now that he’s under, he wants to swim a little deeper, just to see.

There’s not much, just a lot of fallen branches, and he manages to reach the bottom of the lake before flipping around to kick back up toward the top. What he thought was the lake floor was actually an old, rotted tree trunk, and his foot shoots through it. He winces as wood scrapes against his skin and jerks his head around while wiggling his foot. He can’t get out. He’s stuck.

His lungs are beginning to burn as he curls down to try and free his foot with his hands, but the wood around the hole won’t budge, either that or he’s suddenly too weak. Darkness creeps at the edges of his vision, and his lungs feel as if they are on fire and about to burn a hole right through his chest. There’s too much pressure weighing down on him; the water suddenly feels like a million pounds, and he lets out a gargled scream that falls silent against the lake water before everything goes black.

*****

Keith’s senses come together all at once. Something hammers down hard against his chest, hard enough to force water up his throat. He coughs and sputters, and next thing he knows, he’s being shoved onto his side as he hacks up a frightening amount of water that burns against his throat. There’s something clamped down on his trembling shoulder to keep him from falling, and he slides a tired gaze over just he coughs up more water.

His vision is fuzzy, but he blinks rapidly until Lance’s worried face comes into view. He looks pale, Keith thinks with a frown. Pale and worried-- two factors that just do not suit Lance in the slightest.

It takes a solid minute for the puzzle pieces scattered across Keith’s mind to come together to form a shocking image of realization.

“I drowned,” he rasps out. His throat feels utterly wrecked, and his lungs physically hurt, something he didn’t even think was possible.

“Almost,” Lance says, and Keith snaps his gaze at the sound of the shaking voice. “I know I said I wanted to be a hero, but I didn’t mean for you to literally go off and almost drown.”

“I didn’t,” Keith mutters in between weaker coughs as he slowly shifts around until he’s sitting up and facing Lance. “My foot-”

“I know,” Lance says, one hand placed carefully over Keith’s scraped foot. “Are you okay?”

Keith rubs at his chest; it hurts. It feels tight and hot, but he’s alive, so he’s got that going for him at least. “I think I’m done swimming for the day.”

Lance breathes out a shaking sigh and nods. “I agree.”

Keith allows Lance to help him to his feet, and when the two work to gather up their things, he finds his energy returning in slow waves. He’ll be okay, he thinks, It was certainly a scare, but he will be okay.

*****

Keith draws his knees to his chest with a harsh cough as Lance paces the length of their living room with one hand holding a thermometer and the other pressing his phone to his ear. He drops his chin atop one knee with another cough and lazily follows Lance’s frantic pacing with his eyes.

The two had returned to the city late, and Keith wanted nothing more than to take a shower and go to sleep. But, after only three hours of sleep, he was pulled awake by a coughing fit that rattled his lungs and left dark spots dancing across his vision. He thought maybe there was still some loose water swishing about in his lungs, but when Lance felt his forehead, he was suddenly being dragged out of bed and shoved onto the living room couch with only a second to process what was happening before a thermometer was being shoved into his mouth.

He didn’t see the reading, but whatever it was, it was bad enough to have Lance racing for his phone to call Shiro.

“Shiro, thank god,” Lance says, coming to a halt, and Keith perks up slightly with a harsh cough.

“No, I”m fine,” Lance says into the phone. “Listen. Keith almost drowned today, and now he’s running a fever over 103 degrees, and he’s coughing really bad.”

As if to punctuate Lance’s point, Keith’s lungs burst with a harsh coughing fit that he tries and fails to muffle against his knees. His muscles tense with each cough, and he can barely feel Lance’s hand drop against his back.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Lance says into the phone as he moves his hand in small circles along Keith’s back. “I know it sounds bad. Should I... Right now? No, I don’t need an ambulance; I can drive. Are you working tonight?”

Keith sucks in ragged gasps as his face pulls together at the word “ambulance.” He wants to tell Lance that he doesn’t need to bother Shiro at the hospital, but he’s struggling to find his voice.

“Yeah, okay. We will be there in ten. Have a bed ready.” Lance hangs up the phone before racing around to get shoes and car keys.

“Lance,” Keith rasps out, wavering vision barely able to follow Lance’s frantic movements. “I don’t need-”

“Yes, you do,” Lance spits out sharply as he bounces on one foot to get one of his shoes on. “Shiro says so, so we are going.”

Keith closes his eyes with a sharp cough, but he doesn’t argue further. He knows if he tried, Lance would just call Hunk over to physically carry him out of the apartment and to the truck, and he doesn’t want to bother anymore people than necessary. He silently allows Lance to slips some boots onto his feet, and then he’s being pulled up into a stand and guided out the apartment.

*****

“You should have brought him in as soon as you got back to the city.”

Keith stirs at the voice, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

“I know. I’m-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix things, Lance. Do you know how bad this could have been? He could have died!”

At this, Keith opens his eyes to see Shiro and Lance arguing at the foot of the bed, or rather, Shiro yelling at Lance, and Lance shrinking way from the older man’s harsh words. He weakly pulls his oxygen mask from his face.

“I know...”

“You should know better, Lance! What would have-”

"Enough,” Keith growls out, only to jerk forward into a harsh coughing fit that shakes his entire frame and burns hot against his lungs.

“Keith!”

Keith feels two sets of hands on his body, but he waves them away as he struggles to catch his breath. When he manages, he swats Shiro’s hand away from placing his oxygen mask back on.

“You need it.”

“Stop yelling at Lance,” Keith fires back, voice bleeding out anger that can be heard around the painful rasp. “This isn’t his fault.”

Lance slumps down onto the bed at his side. “But it is.”

At this, Keith wraps his fingers around Lance’s jawline and jerks the brunet’s face to face his. “It’s not,” he says, voice low and dangerous. He keeps his hand on Lance’s face as he drags his gaze toward Shiro. “I’m an adult,” he starts, having to pause to catch his breath. “I could have made the decision to come here right after it happened, but I didn’t. This isn’t on him,” he finishes with a gasp before pulling his attention back to Lance.

Wordlessly, Lance moves the oxygen mask over Keith’s mouth, and Keith lets him before dropping his hand and shifting around until he’s falling back against his pillows with a weak cough. Whatever energy he just had is shooting out of his body as if he’s got the plague, and he finds himself drifting before he even knows what’s happening.

“Lance, I’m sorry. I just-”

“I know. I’m worried, too.”

Keith nods once, pleased with their brief interaction, and then he waves his hand weakly in front of Lance, prompting the brunet to take it.

Lance does, and Keith instantly relaxes with the steady, warm weight in his hand. His mind quiets, and he nods off.

#voltron #vld #sickfic #whump #prompt #my writing #my voltron writing #klance #klangst #tw: drowning #lance mcclain #keith kogane #okay i'm going to go crawl back into my writer's block hole now bc this was really hard to write but i've had half of it just sitting #and yea #here

[badassclarke]

I was doing a little S1 rewatch and the idea of Bellamy being there for Clarke got stuck in my mind. This draft has been here since idk 4x04 when they were separated. It takes place between 1x09 and 1x10, when the Exodus ship crashed and they go on a search party after.

This is my first published fan fiction ever and I’m probably not that good at writing - feel free to notice me of any typos or grammar mistakes, really, anything you notice that might be constructive. I’m also not that familiar with writing in English and Tumblr/songs/series have been my only source of contact with the language sooo. That’s it. Hope someone reads you guys enjoy it. 

***

“NO!” Clarke shouted, horrified. “No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening”, she thought, not with her mom, her own mother. No, no, DAMN, no!

There was no longer track of time and space; the only feeling Clarke experienced was a monster growing inside her, aching her stomach, making her gasp for breath, blurring her sigh and sending one hundred needles throughout her body.

She suddenly feels everything: the loss of Wells, hating him when she should’ve hated Abby and refusing to speak with her mother when she had the chance. Now that was impossible: she was forever gone and all the hate was for nothing. Her mother was dead, burned and cold.

It all dizzies her. Clarke wanted to cry at her mom’s lap, be reassured and get out of that hurricane. Everything spins, she knows she has to get out and she wants to scream “GET OUT, CLARKE!”, but her body is unable to answer. She’s stuck and her mind spins as well.

“Clarke?,” the voice was distant like a dream, “Clarke, can you hear me?”

There’s a hand on her shoulder, touching her lightly, “I’m here.”

He shouldn’t be in the middle of that mess. She recognizes his voice and he should protect their people, otherwise they’d all explode. Like her mom did.

Suddenly, low voices were everywhere to be heard and there was some gossip as well. Not much after, curious delinquents were out looking for some explanation.

“What was that?“ A boy whispered to the group. “Should we worry?”

“Jessica said it was an explosion.”

“What about the screams?”

Bellamy looked at the girl on her knees below him. Clarke had always shown herself as brave and strong but right now she was shattered into a million pieces. He knew what it felt like when the only twisted sort of protection in your life was gone. No matter the issues he had with Aurora, he’d wanted her to stay with him. Clarke was surely experiencing the same misery.

The delinquents started to look at her with mixed feelings: pity, irony, despise, shock and incredulity among them. There was no way in hell Bellamy would allow them to see their princess like that.

“Everyone back inside! NOW! There’s nothing to be seen.” Regardless, one guy remained with the pair. “Are you deaf?“ 

"But my family-”

“I don’t care." Bellamy mentally cursed, knowing rudeness was the last thing they all needed. "Tomorrow we’ll go on a search party, okay? You can do more from the inside organizing a group than here.”

Bellamy almost felt sorry for the delinquent, just a kid trying to hold back a sob. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving both Clarke and Bellamy alone again. She was still kneeled in fetal position and, fuck, Bellamy had no clue on how to reach her.

“Clarke, we need you. I need you. Did you hear me? We’re going on a search party tomorrow. Clarke. Please, come back.” Bellamy knelt in front of her, soft whispering to her ear. “You’re okay. I got you, you’re going to be okay.”

He keeps the mantra because he doesn’t know what else to do. Clarke was lost in a whole different world and Bellamy was afraid it was one worst than theirs, if possible. Crowds and rebel teenagers were okay to inspire but broken individuals? He tried, of course, but how can you help fix someone when you can’t fix yourself? If they switched places, she’d know. She always did. He just desperately wanted to do something about excruciating pain.  

“Breathe. You’re okay, you just need to breathe.”

Slowly his words started filling her mind. She was okay. At the ground, but okay.

“It’s Bellamy. I’ll stay with you, just take a deep breath.” Clarke inhaled and exhaled after he pronounced it, much to Bellamy’s astonishment.

“That’s right. I’m here, keep breathing.”

Her eyes are hazy and full of tears when she finally looks at him; her palms, sweaty. She almost feels like waking up from a nightmare except that reality hadn’t changed. It was still awful.

“Bellamy?” She asked in a thread of voice.

"Hey.” 

“What happened?”

"You were in shock. I think you had a breakdown.” The information makes her try to recompose her face and wipe away the tears. “It’s fine. You’ve been through a lot.”

Clarke subtly nods. “Yeah.“

"You need to get some rest.” Bellamy offered her a hand, which was a welcome surprise although she didn’t take it right away.

It was at least ironic that he was the one providing her comfort and safety when he threatened her for starters. But the truth was: the more Clarke learnt about him, more he grew on her. They were partners now. He’d already proven he was there. Bellamy Blake was making Clarke Griffin stand in every meaning of the word. With this in mind, she takes it.

“I don’t want to sleep here.” She whispered after they reached her tent. Clarke didn’t want to be alone or to be reminded Abby would be there if she had made it to the ground. The thought her mother would’ve loved the Earth was too heavy to carry.

Bellamy assents understanding. “You can stay in mine. I’ll be in watch.“

"You’re a terrible liar, Bellamy. I know you have to sleep for the search party.” He smiles and shakes his head. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just ridiculous you’re still able to rationalize after all of,” He gestures, unable to find the words, “This.”

Clarke attempts to smile. “I’m supposed to be The Head, you know?”

“Whatever you say, princess." 

Sometimes Bellamy felt like it was too easy to put his walls down around her, maybe a bit too much. It was easier to let her in than to let her go, anyway.

"I’ll just keep thinking of plans.”

“That’s not a definition of rest.” He deeply inhaled before saying anything again. “We can stay together.”

The suggestion was both sweet and tempting for Clarke, considering she really didn’t want to be alone and Bellamy was doing a nice job distracting her. To be fair, it’s not like she had many other people to lean on at the moment.

“I mean, if that’s not weird for you”, he added.

“Thank you.” She said and he shrugged his shoulders, heading to his tent.

It was a silent walk and there were tears shimmering Clarke’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. Bellamy had already seen much of her misery.

Once they arrived, Clarke stood awkwardly still. What if someone arrived? That’d put them in a very uncomfortable position.

“No one will bother you. You can relax.” He said like he was inside her mind. Actually, in some ways, he was.

Clarke didn’t think relaxing was possible but she also didn’t realize how exhausted she was. That whole damn hour had made her body weaker than a five miles walk would have. That’s why when Bellamy sat with his back touching the tent and pointed at the sheets and pillows in front of him, it was no surprise Clarke almost fell.

“We leave at first light.” He reassured, closing his eyes.

There were many things stuck in Clarke’s tongue. “Thank you”, “you should rest too” and “lay here” among them. Unfortunately, nothing came out of her mouth. She just buried her face in his pillow and it’s smell was a mix of mint, soil and sweat that was so Bellamy. Right in that moment, it meant safety and that was enough.

Bellamy watched Clarke surrender herself to her physical needs – sometimes it was easy to forget she was just a girl. She’d always carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and they were all responsible for letting her. It was sad, really, that watching her asleep, soft and peaceful, made him realize how she struggled to be the opposite everyday. For their survival. Not even Atlas deserved that burden on his own.

If Clarke really meant she needed him… God, he knew there was no chance to step back. She was human, not the unstoppable force of nature she manifested herself into, and she could break too. Clarke’s puzzle was being exposed little by little as the time passed and Bellamy was glad to be the one helping her put the pieces back together.

#bellarke angst #bellarke fic #bellarke fanfic #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fan fiction #bellarke sadness #trigger warning #may #may rambles #mine #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 #bellarke

[pinkrabbitpro]

Title: I’ll Be There Author: Pink Rabbit Productions AO3 Link Summary: Cat’s hurt, Kara’s caring for her. Mostly a short exercise in present tense. Barely edited, so all errors are my own.

I’ll Be There

Cat’s a bloody mess when Kara finds her, none of it gushing, but cuts, scratches, and bruises seem to litter every inch of exposed skin, and her clothes are torn enough that a lot more is exposed than normal. It takes everything she has to simply land close and not reach for Cat as the older woman leans heavily against the wall at her back.

“Supergirl,” Cat exhales with the last of her breath. The cricket bat she was clutching slips from her fingers, the blunt end hitting with a sharp crack before it topples and rattles to the tile floor of the CatCo copy room nearest her office. Then Cat’s knees are buckling and she’s sliding down the wall. Unable to hold back any longer, Kara rushes forward, her touch as gentle as she knows how to make it as she cushions Cat’s collapse. “I’ve got you,” she whispers near the other woman’s ear and allows herself the luxury of leaning close enough to breathe in Cat’s scent, feel the warmth of her and hear the beat of her heart. “You’re safe now.” Grunting something incoherent, Cat lets her head fall forward, resting heavily against Kara’s shoulder. Toggling on her two-way, Kara is quick to notify J’onn who is helping in the search. “J’onn, Cat’s here. She’s beat to hell, but alive—” “You should see the other guy,” Cat mumbles, her voice thick and heavily slurred. Raising an arm to point toward the far copy machine, she leans back enough to nod the same direction. Following the line of her arm, Kara peers at, then through several copiers, tensing as she sees dim outline of a lumpy shape on the other side. It takes a beat for her to realize it’s a slumped body, then another to look through flesh enough to realize there’s no blood flow and the heart isn’t beating. Not just unconscious, dead. She swallowed hard. “Looks like the bad guys are down one,” she told Hank. “Three,” Cat corrects her, shrugging when Kara rears back to stare at her with a wide eyed look. She settles a hand on Kara’s chest, needing the comfort of her strength as she explains, “Carter was here when they arrived. No time to play nice.” Catching slim shoulders in her hands, Kara keeps Cat upright, her voice urgent. “Where is he?” “Safe room.” Cat shakes her head dazedly. A confused frown. “You have a safe room?” “Behind the monitors in my office. Lead lined.” Kara had just assumed it was all the shielding for the electronics gear that interfered with her view. “J’onn—” “I heard,” he responds instantly and she can hear the rush of air as he flies that way. “He’s there with a woman...your friend...” Despite her condition there’s a frosty note to Cat’s voice that puzzles Kara, but it’s not something she has time to worry about. “...the brunette with the armor...from myriad,” Cat adds, sounding put out. She’s never appreciated Supergirl’s refusal to explain the identities of assorted people who weave around in her wake. “She broke in looking for—” “Alex?” Supergirl exhales sharply and it takes effort to keep from tightening her hold on Cat’s shoulders. “How? Was she hurt?” “Busted ankle, pretty out of it from a head injury, but no major bleeding. Carter and I got her into the safe room—” “And you—” These assholes showed up...had to keep them from finding Carter,” Cat says as though going after her attackers with a cricket bat was the only answer. Her head droops forward as she leans against Supergirl’s shoulder again. “Bastards had an RPG.” A tremor slides through Kara and she cups the back of Cat’s head, her touch achingly tender. “They were after Alex,” she whispers near Cat’s ear. “Woulda killed her.” And it wouldn’t have been pretty. “You too.” And she finds herself wrapping her arms around the smaller woman, clinging to her and burying her face in silky blonde hair as it begins to sink in what she could have lost. “We got here as soon as we could,” she all but sobs. “I found the room,” J’onn informs Kara. His tone would sound stiff and formal to many, but she knows him well enough to hear the worry in the calm tone. With her head resting on Kara’s shoulder, their ears close together, Cat hears him as well. “It opens by—” A noisy crash over the headset interrupts her making it obvious J’onn has gone for the fastest route. “You’re paying for that, y’know,” Cat mumbles, then tenses, her head coming up off Kara’s shoulder as a boy’s cry is audible over Kara’s earpiece. “Carter.” “I won’t let you hurt her,” Carter shouts, his voice small and tinny over the comm, but still distinct enough to be recognizable. “Let me talk to him,” Cat orders Kara, summoning her imperial tone as she holds out a hand. Kara hands her comm over even as Cat demands, “You trust this man?” “With my life.” Also there is literally nothing Carter could do if J’onn wasn’t a good guy. She doesn’t mention that part. “Hand your radio or whatever to my son,” Cat commands as she tucks the earpiece in. “Carter, it’s Mom—” Using super hearing to listen in, Kara hears a small sigh—J’onn—then Carter’s excited voice. “Mom!” “Carter, the man with you is a friend of Supergirl’s. You can trust him.” “He’s green, Mom,” Carter says, sounding very uncertain about the concept. Blonde brows snap upward as Cat peers at Kara the question unspoken, but obvious. “He’s kind of a Martian,” Kara explains with a shrug. “But I’d trust him with everything I hold dear.” A quick nod, then Cat’s speaking again. “He’s an alien...like Supergirl, and he’s her friend.” Supergirl is always a magic word for the boy. “Okay.” Magic or not, he still sounds unsure, but he’s going along with it. “You do what he tells you,” she instructs him, though her voice is fading fast and Kara can feel the way Cat’s muscles are quivering as she struggles to stay upright. Adrenaline and terror are all that’s kept her going this long, and those are running out fast. “You can trust him...” Feeling Cat tremble with increasing weakness, Kara tugs the smaller woman against her body as she starts a slow motion collapse. It’s a testament to her condition that the blonde makes no effort to argue. Every touch achingly careful, Kara slowly scoops the injured woman into her arms while Cat just sags into the solidity of Kara’s body and loops an arm around her neck. Her voice little more than a soft grunt, she says, “need t’see my son.” “We will,” Kara assures her and is just rising when she hears J’onn’s voice again. “I’m with Alex and she’s—” “Fine,” Alex interrupts in the background, her tone firm, though her voice is weaker than normal. “I’m fine. Did that idiot actually go after those guys while I was out?” “Yeah, kinda,” Kara sighs. “She got at least one of them, maybe more.” She peers down at Cat worriedly, but a quick scan doesn’t reveal any severe injuries despite all the cuts and bruises. But she’s not taking chances. “We’re going to drop by so she can see Carter’s okay, then I’m taking her to the hospital.” Every move calculated to limit any risk of further injury to the woman in her arms, Kara lifts off. She can keep the ride much smoother by flying. “Take her to the DEO instead,” Alex tells her. “They can do a more thorough job of checking her for anything unusual.” She knows how her sister feels about Cat Grant and while she wouldn’t claim to understand it, she will do anything she can to protect the other woman. She understands protecting Cat is protecting Kara. Plus now she owes her on a more personal level. The woman could have hidden. If someone had asked Alex, she would have guessed that would be her response. She certainly wouldn’t have predicted a heroic move or taking out the bad guys. Then Kara and Cat are arriving at her office and Carter’s rushing forward with a frightened cry. “Mom!” “M’alright,” Cat mumbles, though she can barely lift her head from Kara’s shoulder. She drops her hand to Carter’s head to gently fingercomb soft curls. “I’m fine,” she assures her son who looks doubtful. “She’ll be okay,” Kara assures him with a gentle smile. “She’d better be,” Alex growls as she stumbles out of the safe room behind Carter, clinging to J’onn for support. Even from a distance, it’s obvious she wouldn’t be going anywhere without help. Her injured leg hangs at an ugly angle from the knee down. “Or so help me I’ll kick her ass for being such a dumbass.” Dark hair is matted to her head and dramatic brown streaks flow away from her hairline on the left side. As her gaze falls on Cat, she flinches, her expression twisted by equal measures of anger and guilt. “Idiot,” she whispers almost inaudibly. “Alex, not now,” Kara hisses with a tiny nod to Carter who looks ready to cry. A hard flinch rattles Alex who glances at the boy and flinches again. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just meant...” She trails off momentarily, then tries to explain, “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here. Certainly not them. Isn’t she supposed to be in Europe or something?.” Then she looks up at Kara, silently pleading for forgiveness. “I wouldn’t have put them at risk.” “I know.” Kara glances down at Cat, who seems to grow heavier with every passing beat, not yet unconscious, but close enough. “I need to go now,” she whispers, her voice tight with unshed tears. When she looks up, it’s J’onn who gets her attention this time. He’s the one most likely to understand how torn she feels between the woman in her arms, her sister, and the boy. Nodding his understanding, he settles his free hand on Carter’s shoulder and firms his hold on Alex’s waist as he assures her, “I’ll see to both of them.” “Thank you,” Kara exhales heavily, and pivots, grateful when Carter rushes ahead and pushes the balcony doors open. His eyes are wide and scared. “She’s gonna be okay,” Kara tries to reassure him, smiling as he nods bravely. Then, with a nod, she tucks Cat more firmly against the protection of her body, lifts off and flies as fast as she can without risking more damage to the woman in her arms. She arrives at the midtown DEO facility in less than two minutes and slips in through the shielded hatch that opens for her as she arrives. A gurney and a medical team are already waiting when she lands and the hands that reach to help her settle Cat are as gentle as her own. Word’s already out that Cat Grant risked her all to save Agent Danvers, and Alex is popular. Cat’s utterly limp by then so she stands there, helplessly watching as the doctors wheel her away, wondering if she’s lied to Carter in reassuring him. She’s never seen Cat Grant look small and helpless before and it’s terrifying. “It’ll be all right,” a gentle voice breaks in on Kara’s darkest fears and she spins to find Vasquez standing a little ways back. “A team is bringing in Alex and the kid. You should probably meet them. He’ll be scared.” She pats Kara’s shoulder and adds a gentle shove toward the doors to get her moving. “I’ll let you know if there’s any news.” Kara manages a stiff nod, and scrubs away her tears before hurrying off to receive them when they arrive.

* * * * * *

The first thing Cat becomes aware of is voices, worried and speaking fast, the tones registering more than any actual words. Something is very wrong and she tries to claw her way up to consciousness to demand to know what’s going on, but when she tries the pain hits and she sinks again, not fighting when the darkness takes her. If time passes after that, she is mostly unaware. There are brief moments when she hears more voices, gentle and coaxing this time, calling to her, but when she tries to reach them, the pain returns and she has no choice but to retreat. Then suddenly she’s back in her body and aware of background sounds of people moving, things rattling faintly, wheels rolling nearby. Hospital sounds, she suddenly realizes. Hospital? Why would she... Then she remembers the sudden power outage, the bloodied and beaten brunette staggering through the empty bullpen in a supposedly empty building. She also remembers the terror of running around the CatCo building like some idiot hero, not to mention the dull crunch and shattering resistance of a cricket bat delivered to a man’s skull. She could have done without that last one. It’s knowledge she really didn’t need, but she feels no regret. After all, he would have killed all of them if given a chance. Oh, she supposes she could have hidden with Carter and left the brunette, Alex?, on her own, but she remembers that night battling Non. On the verge of dying and she’d been oddly exultant after the long hug with Supergirl, thinking perhaps she wasn’t the only one with deep feelings. But the odd high of that moment had come to a bruising crash only a little later at the radio station when she’d seen the brunette attack and Supergirl’s refusal to fight back even to save herself. In that moment she’d known she never really had a chance. Supergirl, Kara, whoever she is, would rather die than risk harming the other woman. That’s love and Cat has to respect that even if she’d had to flee National City for a bit to survive it. So there she was, having snuck into town to retrieve a few things from her office, and hell landed on her doorstep in the form of a woman loved by someone she cared for far too much.  Yes, she could have walked away from the woman and saved herself. No one would have blamed her given the viciousness of the pursuers. But as difficult as she can be—which is very difficult indeed—she’s never been one to cheat like that. And now she’s a bloody mess and everything hurts and she can only wonder what happened after everything went black. Which is why she really should open her eyes and find out what the hell she got herself into. Finally she manages, squinting and blind as a bat, the room dark enough to make it hard to make out much of anything. She feels the sticky discomfort of things glued to her chest and the brush of trailing wires, then notices the monitor to one side of the bed with its ever-changing numbers and patterns silently tracking her vital signs. She’s getting fluids too, and judging by the dullness of the ache in her body and the fuzziness of her thinking, probably a fair dose of something meant to kill pain as well. Then a soft sound draws her gaze to her side where dark gold hair is splayed across the mattress near her hip. Supergirl. She’s sitting in a chair pulled tight to the bed, folded over with her arms resting on the mattress, and her head pillowed on her arms. She’s wearing a sweatshirt, but Cat recognizes that hair where it tumbles around her in loose waves. She appears to be sound asleep. For the longest moment, Cat can do nothing but stare at the girl like she’s some strange wild thing who might dart away at any moment, then she carefully lifts her hand. Ignoring the runners of pain every bit of movement brings, she reaches out, just barely touching cool, silky hair so soft it’s the first thing that hasn’t hurt since she woke. She earned this, she thinks as she strokes very softly, hardly even making contact. She saved Supergirl’s love. Surely that merits this one tiny thing just for herself. Not even Supergirl herself could begrudge her that much. Besides, she is so tired and everything hurts and it feels so nice to just sit like this and pet burnished gold silk and soak in the wonder that she’s still alive. The pleasure is a soft and tender kind and she quickly loses all sense of time and place until an odd sensation crawls down her spine and she realizes she’s not alone. Cat tips her gaze up and freezes, half expecting brown eyes to reflect hostility as she realizes she’s been caught. Kara’s lover is here, standing in the doorway, silently watching her. She has no idea how long the woman’s been there. She half expects a measure of hostility, so it’s jarring to see only kindness and a bit of worry reflected in her dark gaze. There’s certainly no fear there. The brunette isn’t the least bit jealous, and her utter confidence kills some tiny piece of Cat that still maintained an unwanted bit of hope that maybe Supergirl might... She doesn’t let herself finish the thought, just freezes as a worried frown creases her brow. She opens her mouth, gnaws on her lower lips, then finds herself doing something she almost never sinks to, apologizing. “I’m sorry,” she whispers guiltily, finally pulling her hand back to her chest. “I didn’t mean to—” “Kara,” the brunette says very softly before Cat can get any farther. “She’s awake.” Somehow it hurts even worse that her eyes are so kind and Cat’s so lost for a second that she misses the way Supergirl’s knifes upright until incredibly gentle fingers stroke her cheek. “Cat,” the hero croaks. “You’re awake.” Her voice is small and thick, almost like she’s had a cold or too many nights without sleep or is way too hung over. Blue eyes move this way and that, running over Cat with near-physical intensity. “You’re awake,” she whispers again, then glances back for a brief second. “Alex, get Carter. He’ll want—” “He’s sound asleep,” the brunette over-rides Supergirl, though her tone is soft and painfully gentle. She nods toward Cat. “He can wait a few minutes. You need to explain what’s happened and who I am.” Supergirl looks confused, but Cat feels her heart contract as she gets it. She realizes it’s probably not marking her territory so much as letting an unwanted suitor down easily, but it makes her stomach twist into stressed knots. She doesn’t really want to hear how happily in love they are. Not that she isn’t happy for them. She loves the girl—and god help her, it is love, not just lust—and she wants only the best for her, but she’s doesn’t really want to hear the details. Not even a little bit because hearing how happy  they are might just break her as well as her heart. “Really, you don’t need to...” Cat mumbles weakly and waves her hand ever so slightly in an effort to make it go away. “I understand and I won’t...” Won’t what, she wonders even as the words leave her mouth. Won’t bother them? Of course not. Won’t harbor some measure of silly hope? Well, she’s not entirely sure she can avoid that. Even knowing she shouldn’t, she can’t resist a quick look at Supergirl, taking in the smooth curves of perfect bone structure and vivid blue eyes. No, there will be no avoiding some stray hope no matter how hard she tries. “Kara,” the brunette says again, nodding to indicate Cat, “you need to tell her...everything.” Kara, yes, of course it’s Kara. Cat knew that, really, even if she mostly overlooked it once the girl made it clear she would lie to protect the separation between them, and while those lies stung, Cat knows it was her own fault. She screwed up there. The irony is she loves Kara as well, and is almost disappointed to hear she was right and they really are one and the same. It often seemed that she might be just a bit in love with Cat and sometimes she fantasized that now that they no longer had a direct work relationship, something else might develop. Which is one more reason she’s seriously considering requesting a Lexapro when she realizes Kara and the brunette are speaking, using the coded language of two people who know each other and their subject well, so feel no need for precision or explanations. “Alex, this really isn’t the time—” “Actually, it’s exactly the time,” the brunette—Cat is rather relieved to hear that her memory of that much is correct—disagrees firmly. “She needs to understand...everything.” Kara flinches, her body language all Kara and none of Supergirl. In that moment, it strikes Cat how very different the two versions of her are. Kara is careful and scared and ready to run while Supergirl stands straighter, her stride almost a swagger, her body language broader and confident that she owns whatever space she cares to. “I don’t think I can...” the girl whispers. “I don’t want her to hate me.” Suddenly Cat understands. Kara, always so kind, has noticed her feelings and doesn’t want to lose their friendship by openly rejecting her. That realization makes her love both of them a little more. Which isn’t really ideal all things considered. She sighs softly. “You really don’t need to explain,” she inserts, her voice smaller than she’s heard it since she was a child. “I’m very happy for you and I certainly won’t—” “Oh, for—” Alex growls, then snaps her mouth shut with a sharp clack of teeth. Grumbling something Cat is sure isn’t a compliment under her breath, she storms forward, impressive given her right leg is buckled into a thick brace that runs from ankle to mid hip and she has to use crutches to keep from toppling with every step. As she reaches Cat’s bedside, she leans on the crutch and thrusts her right hand forward. “Alex Danvers,” she introduces herself. Cat just stares, though her hand rises of its own accord to meet what turns out to be a very light, very gentle handshake. Dark eyes roll, but Alex doesn’t utter any snarky remarks. Cat suspects that requires effort. “Kara Danvers’ older sister,” Alex adds at a brisk pace. She nods to indicate Kara. “And yes, Kara and Supergirl are one and the same.” Cat blinks as she struggles to parse the words and make sense of it. “Alex,” Kara pleads in a very small voice. “And they are both hopelessly in love with you...” Cat’s gaze swings back to Kara who looks like she might just melt into a puddle of embarrassment. Alex continues after a beat, her tone gentling again. “You’ve been unconscious for almost four days.” “You were poisoned,” Kara breaks in, expression shifting from guilt-ridden to angry in a blink, her gaze suddenly so intense her eyes are almost glowing with primal rage. It’s a comfort to Cat that even though her anger visibly swells, Kara’s touch remains careful as she reaches out to stroke Cat’s cheek. “She hasn’t left your side,” Alex tells Cat. “I just wanted you to understand how much she values your life...enough to go sleepless and barely eat a thing. Do you have any idea the emotional turmoil it takes for her to stop eating?” she asks, pointing at Kara’s visible exhaustion. “So you need to be more careful from now on. My sister loves you and you’ve got a great kid and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I will personally kick your ass all the way to the county line—” “Alex!” Kara yelps, clearly appalled. Alex shrugs, her tone not quite joking as she explains, “I just wanted to make sure the rules are understood. She’s not allowed to get herself killed.” Her gaze swings back to Cat and the teasing bravado slips to reveal the aftermath of both enormous fear and overwhelming guilt. “Seriously, don’t ever do that again,” she begs. “Even if you did manage to take out three of the bastards.” Her mouth twists into a smirk of admiration. “You’ve gotta tell me how you did that sometime.” She shakes herself and straightens her shoulders, her tone lightening again. “And now you two need to talk. I’m gonna go get Carter and bring him to you. Probably take fifteen to twenty minutes.” Despite the restriction of crutches and a leg brace, she exits surprisingly quickly. As Alex disappears, Cat hears Kara drew in a deep breath. Her eyes downcast, she starts to lean back in her chair. “Don’t,” Cat whispers before she can think about it and catches Kara’s hand. It’s broader than her own, the muscles heavier, the bones thicker. In that moment, she can feel the strength coiled in alien sinew, but feels no fear. She trusts Kara completely never to use it against her. “Please, don’t go,” she adds after a beat, then it’s her turn to look down as she struggles to find the nerve to ask, “Do you really...” she pauses, “...love me?” The question is scared and uncertain and she can list all the reasons she can’t quite believe it would be true, but even so, she allows herself to hope. “God, Cat,” Kara gasps, and touches her again, the contact feather light, but warm and real as she lays her free hand along Cat’s cheek. “More than...” She doesn’t finish, just drags in a deep breath and shakes her head as a hard shudder rattles through her. “When you didn’t wake up and...” Kara’s voice breaks painfully. “They weren’t sure you would for awhile,” she admits through thick tears and ducks her head, hiding behind her hair as it spills around her face. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Despite the ache every movement causes, Cat reaches out, resting her hand on burnished gold hair. “Not your fault,” she whispers, neither wanting nor liking what sounds like guilt. “Feels like it is,” Kara husks, shoulders trembling as she draws in a ragged breath. She looks up then, her eyes redder than Cat has ever seen them. “I should have been there sooner, should have protected you...” “I know you,” Cat says by way of disagreement. “You would have been if you could have been.” “I would have,” Kara swears with the seriousness of a judge taking an oath. She strokes Cat’s cheek again, her skin amazingly soft, her touch light as a butterfly’s kiss. “I love you, you know. I’d do anything for you.” For all the physical pain, Cat feels like maybe she could start flying all on her own and she finds herself grinning like a damn fool even though it hurts like hell. “How about a drink. I’d kill for a bourbon, but I’m guessing I’m limited water.” Kara chuckles softly and moves to grab a nearby pitcher. “Crushed ice for the moment,” she explains and steps close again, carefully using a plastic spoon to drizzle half melted chips past bruised lips until Cat waves her off. Already exhausted, Cat sinks into the mattress. “Hold me?” she sighs, feeling small and scared and in need of comfort. A worried frown creases the girl’s brow and she flinches. “I don’t want hurt you.” “You won’t,” Cat mumbles and uses her hold on Kara’s hand to tug her closer, smiling as the girl floats above her, then carefully slips her free hand away from Cat’s cheek to ease it around the top of her head, snuggling her very lightly. Another gentle tug draws Kara close enough that their bodies just barely brush and she can feel the comforting warmth of the girl. “You’re going to be all right,” Kara breathes over and over in a soothing mantra as she slowly pets Cat’s hair. Cat turns a little toward the comfort of Kara’s body, sighing heavily and sinking deeper into the mattress. They’re still like that when Alex and Carter appear in the doorway. “Mom,” the boy murmurs, his voice soft, his tone heartfelt. If seeing Kara floating above his mother is at all surprising, he doesn’t let on. In fact, he seems glad to see her. “Careful,” Kara reminds him when he leans in to share a barely there hug with his mother. “You’re okay.” He glances at Kara, then Alex for confirmation. “I’ll be fine...just a little...tired,” Cat sighs, her eyelids suddenly feeling painfully heavy. “You’re a hero, you know,” Carter tells her as he takes up Kara’s vacated chair. “Hardly,” she mumbles, thinking it’s hardly heroic to sneak around bashing people from behind while deathly terrified. “No, you are,” he insists and she doesn’t argue this time. After that, they talk a bit, but mostly the sisters reassure the boy while Cat increasingly just floats. She’s half asleep when Alex gently urges the boy out. Kara is still floating a little above and to her side and she reaches up to idly stroke a soft cheek. Sleep is tugging at her, pulling her down, but this darkness is warm and friendly, not dangerous or clawing. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” she asks Kara, who nods. “Forever, if you’ll have me,” the girl promises. A tired smile curves Cat’s lips as she tugs Kara’s hand to her chest. “Forever,” she confirms and escapes into slumber, confident Kara will still there when she wakes.

End

#Supercat #Cat Grant/Kara Danvers #Cat Grant/Supergirl #hurt/comfort #PinkRabbitPro Writing

[burmecianblackmage]

♪

Send me a ♪ and I’ll shuffle my music, and describe a short scenario involving our muses inspired by the song that pops up! Maybe it’ll inspire a full thread!

Okami OST - Nursery Rhyme

Friends Stand Up for their Friends

The rain was falling mercilessly on the streets of Burmecia, much like it did on most days. It was an unrelenting force of nature, frequenting the kingdom nigh every day, and as such it had become simply a part of people’s everyday lives. After all, why fight what you could not change?

Unfortunately for a certain young boy, the rain was not the only merciless thing he experienced almost every day. There were only rare exceptions when he was granted some peace, and so it had slowly become routine too. But other than the rain, which the Burmecians had come to cherish over time, this was something he’d never enjoy. It would always remain a painful, miserable experience. For the rest of his life…

Today too, they had gathered around him, forming a closed circle. Chanting their made-up mockeries as if they were a nursery rhyme, they pushed him around, obviously getting a kick out of the power they held over him.

Oh behold the Mantis’ kid so littleWith legs so frail and so brittleKnows not to fight knows not to jumpCan only sit and cry like a lumpNot even good for playing a game Brings his mother only shame

It wasn’t their shoving and pushing that hurt, nor was it their kicks or when they threw him to the ground, no. What hurt far more are their words, for they spoke true - and this knowledge never ceased to hurt. Born with legs unfit to become a Dragon Knight he had never stood a chance in keeping up with his classmates, but his mother kept pushing him. And everytime he failed her, he could tell she grew more and more disappointed and ashamed…

And he could do nothing against it. All he could do was to wait and endure, and pray that unlike the rain they’d eventually lose interest and stop, at least for the day.

It was only a matter of time…

“Hey! Stop that! It’s not nice to pick on someone weaker, you bullies!”

When a voice calls out and defends him, the little Burmecian can hardly believe his ears. He cannot see the person, for the other kids stood in the way, but they all turned to face them, losing interest in him immediately.

It is a young girl that stands there, about 7 summers old just like he was, her little fists placed on her hips with an angered expression. Normally, that would hardly raise an eyebrow, as Burmecian girls tended to be quite feisty at times - only she was not a Burmecian.

The girl was, as he would later learn, an Au Ra - a race from a far off lang that distinguished itself from the others with their scaly tails and horns, along with some scale patterns across their skin. Who was she? How did she come to be here? The boy does not know - but he is quite glad nonetheless.

For after one of the boys tries to turn her away and ends up face first on the ground, the group of his bullies quickly disperses. And soon after, the girl stands before him, offering a hand to help him back on his feet.

“You know, you should stand up to them yourself! They only manage to push you around like that because you let them, so… show them they can’t anymore, got it!?”

These encouraging words were the last she spoke before running off again, without even granting him the time to thank her.

Dragon girl oh little dragon girlCannot fly and cannot fightLittle dragon girl can only cryDragon girl oh little dragon girl Is not needed is not wanted Little dragon girl should just die 

When a familiar type of singsong, a nursery rhyme only made to mock and belittle reaches his large ears, it calls back memories that the young Burmecian would have rather buried forever already. Memories of being bullied just like that, back before his mother had cast him aside and he’d been forced to wander beyond the kingdom’s borders.

But at the same time, there are also memories of that girl back then, the only one who ever stood up for him.

That little memory is enough for him to be the brave one now and help whoever it was that was the victim here. Standing tall, he tried his best to look intimidating before calling out to the pack of adolescents:

“Hey! Is bullying others all you can do? Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Or are you too chicken to dare that?”

As it would turn out moments later, these kids were actually taller than the 9 year old Burmecian, and had no qualms picking him as their new target, evidenced by him landing on the floor with a bruised snout… - But that was worth it, for once they were done with him they also had lost interest in torturing their initial victim, leaving her alone.

Getting up slowly the Burmecian went over to the girl sitting on the cold floor, her face burried in her hands as she cried and sniveled. Holding out a hand with a smile he calls out to her, happy he could cease her suffering at least for the moment. Such brief moments of respite could be all one had, after all…

“Hey… it’s alright now. The bad kids left, so… so you can stop crying, okay…?”

When the girl looks up at him with eyes not only red from tears and a bleeding lip, the surprise becomes apparant on both their faces nigh immediately.

“Hey, aren’t you…?”

Later that day, two children, born of races vastly different than the other, could be seen sitting at the riverside together, looking out at the water as te sun began to set. They both were bruised and dirty, and yet still, both carried a smile. Despite all their misfortune, despite all the bullying they had to endure, the pain they had felt, they both managed to laugh even as they talked with each other.

“...hehehe... You’re funny, I like you. Hey, what’s your name?”

“... my... my father told me I must not tell strangers my name...”

“...but... I’m not a stranger anymore, am I...?”

“...well... I don’t know your name either... Maybe... maybe I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours first?”

“Sounds fair, but... sadly I can’t tell you my name... I don’t have one since Mother took it away from me...”

“...I didn’t know you could do that... that’s so sad..”

A moment of silence follows, before the Au Ra girl speaks up once more, seemingly excieted:

“I know! I can give you a name in the language of my father! Lets see... how do you like... Sceada?

“...I like the sound of it... but what does it mean...?”

“I think it meant someone who went away from home  and lives by his own rules, not letting himself be held back by what others say.”

“... hehe, that seems fitting indeed...”

“hehehe, yay! So it is decided! Decided! Hello Sceada, it’s nice to meet you! My name is Brii.”

When the sun finally sets for this day, Brii and Sceada are stll sitting there at the riverside, talking and smiling and laughing. Somehow one could not held but think that maybe, just maybe, this would be the start to a beautiufl friendship...

#briidunviing #RequestsHeeded #MelodiesintheRain #When Nursery Rhyme III came up for you I instantly knew what to do hehe #I hope you like it #I had to alter some facts for this but that's an AU for you after all #and this was too sweet an image to pass upon