#*gets plummeted into the ground*
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intended to do a little sketch but it snowballed into a colored piece aeeueuueā ā¦ļøšŖ²
uwaaahh and some doodles both old and new
#back then i struggled drawing canon scarab a lot#i meanā¦. i still do but am LEARNING (ąø ā¢Ģ_ā¢Ģ)ąø#huzzah!#prohibitedwish#scarab#scarab the god auditor#prismo#prismo the wishmaster#fionna and cake#adventure time#inky doods#inky art#same meā¦scarab save meā¦.#*gets plummeted into the ground*
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so what if i go insane and draw diakko as these panels
#so like we know how akko probably has low self-esteem post chariot reveal right#like she went all this way only to find out everything she knew was a fraud#but still powers thru lona and sorta has semi-self deprecating thoughts like kana has occasionally#diana doesnt comfort her and they get into a fight and it turns into this#*twirls hair* so like i just wanna make them suffer~#diana is so hellbent on repressing her feelings that inadvertently plummets akko's own self esteem#but akko's own source of comfort of self is that diana considers her a friend and rival but then diana avoids her and starts dating andrew#and akko's own sense of self gets WORSE and she doesnt find much to comfort#knowing it was all for naught because what she thought she had in her was just stolen long ago#like sure she saved magic and all but like it was surely traumatic for her#so wants something to confide in that no it wasnt a mistake#BUT THEN DIANA just doesnt interact with her anymore#and she tries her hardest to befriend her again after their rocky start and thought diana would be ok but then#uh oh diana catches feelings and stays away and akko's heart just breaks when diana does anything and everything to avoid her#akko after diana pushes her to the ground: do you... really hate me that much?#āyoure right im still so stupid diana im sorry i wont talk to you againā#and diana just sits there in the rain like shinji on the chair LOL#diakko#aqukana#lwa#onk#little witch academia#oshi no ko#diana cavendish#akko kagari#hoshino aqua#arima kana#*eats this panels like peter eating burger meme* exquisite angst *gets food poisoning*
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Thinking about Pjo Zeus trying to subtly get rid of his children as soon as they pose too much of a threat like my Thalia headcannon. And how Jason cannot fly but rather control the winds underneath him. So say he's in the air one day, where he's supposed to be safe, in his dad's domain, when all of a sudden the winds stop listening to him and he's powerless with nothing to do but pray desperately for his dad to help, only to remain unheard as he falls to his inevitable demise.
#it also goes along with Jason having to ask permission in order to use his lighting powers#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#jason grace#zeus pjo#it gets better if you imagine his friends on the ground below watching him fly when all of a sudden he just plummets and it looks like a#-suicide and the only one who doesn't believe he did it on purpose was Leo#valgrace#t.w. suicide mention
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i think iām getting better at shielding myself from it though i can calm down pretty quick but like god is it triggering when iām being screamed at and backed into corners and things are being thrown i go from āiām fineā to āi am going to dieā in .5 seconds itās so frustrating
#if he tries to physically attack me everything goes out the window i will defend myseld#but this is a guy whoās much taller/bigger/stronger heās literally picked me up and thrown me to the ground then started plummeting me#not that long ago lol !#(bc i wanted to get a game for my ds. yeah that was the whole reason. he got that angry over MY property)#absolute fucking insanity and this guy thinks heās in the right
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Alice Perrers as Icarus and the sun
#alice perrers#edward iii#sun = lady of the sun. the most powerful woman in the country. a queen in all but name. the first and last of her kind.#Icarus = she dared; she reached too high; she grasped the sun. she soared on brilliant wings of dust#and when the sun set she plummeted to the ground#what does that mean?#it means that she had a meteoric rise - from a commoner to a damsel to a royal mistress to a queen in all but name.#she was loved by the king with the sun burst as his emblem. she attained ultimate glory#but that glory was both real and an illusion - it was power that was given not legitimate authority she possessed#she was a quasi queen but she could have never ever been a queen. it both shaped her and it doomed her#so when the sun set - when the King died - she fell! she crashed to the ground. she was cast out and nearly destroyed#she died forgotten and abandoned#but for a moment she was glorious#if that isn't sun-coded AND Icarus-coded I don't know what is#14th century#my post#(i can usually be much more poetic but this has just ended up sounding silly instead.#oh well#hopefully people still get the drift)
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#tumblr user binnie makes a triumphant return!#Y'AAAAAAALL you're not gonna believe the HURDLES I had to get through to reach you#I spent several minutes preparing a week long queue only to realize that I was still in my old blog SAJFHSDGS#oh god and then I spent like 15 whole minutes (not a hyperbole for comedic purposes) trying to find the fucken log out button AJDHASJF#AND THEN I forgot my password lmaaaaaaaao#all of this to get back to you because I missed you and I treasure you [heart emojis]#yo these past months have been INSANE but not insane as in fun i mean insane as in my mental health plummeted lmao#like it hit the ground and then dug a larger hole to bury itself in it dsfdsh#also this master's degree is taking years out of my life#but we gucci worry not#these are existential musings#anyway Y'ALL!!!! hope you've been doing good#hopefully I'm back for good (or at least this time I won't make a worrisome text post and disappear for a good six months sdfhsafhsg)#missed this community of ours#and now!!! off to queueing
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I get the vibe that ed would react one of two possible ways to flying: either he would be mesmerized by the view the whole time, pointing out some cool land pattern or new cloud grouping or bright city lights, OR babygirl would have a death grip on the arm rests the whole time with his eyes squeezed closed and at the smallest bit of turbulence he would burst into tears
#ofmd#ofmd hc#edward teach#totally not inspired by upcoming travel or anything#like i really want him to have fun and enjoy the view and just be completely entranced#but i think if he got spooked a little in the beginning it would be over#just terror until his own two feet were on the ground again#and yeah he's used to being a little unsteady at sea but that's different because if he falls well he can swim#he cannot however swim or fly or do much of anything other than plummet downward if he's in the air#and he might get caught on that thought#just a little post
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i've been thinking of some new names to use š¤
#don't get me wrong i love being kavka but hh#it's on my mind because it's name is both a kind of bird and a diminutive for coffee#and if i ended up with a job that's cool with trans people it might look silly on the name tag š#if i could use english names i'd go for everett or samuel or marco#i was also thinking about mal but learned that it's just short for 'malcolm' and that's. bleh#to an enlightened mind it's short for malice <3#other good one i can't use is jara (after jara cimrman) hehe but people would make fun of me š#so that leaves me only my fave male polish names which are any name that ends with -y or -i#cezary horacy maurycy ignacy antoni january etc#those are good names but then again i'm not sure if i'd feel okay using them as i am not transmasc#but fem names are an absolute no too so . i think i'm going to scale the PwC building and plummet to the ground about it
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It actually makes a lot of sense that Bruce was one of the few people left standing in the crowd at Halyās Circus when Dickās parents died.
Watching two innocent people plummet to their deaths is gruesome. Itās shocking. It can be horribly traumatic, depending on the blunt force trauma of hitting the ground. They might not have died right away. They might have bled and made awful noises that were heard even above the sounds of the crowd.
But Bruce is Batman. Bruce saw his parents get murdered right in front of him. And he knows the sounds and sights of someone dying. Heās hardened himself to stay calm in a situation like that, both through trauma and practice.
I think the image of a young Dick Grayson making eye contact with the one unshaken person in the crowd is chilling. A man standing resolute when everyone else is screaming, sadness etched across his face. But not panic. Not confusion. Resignation, maybe.
#yada yada#morning thoughts#saw a comic panel and got carried away#anyway i might write this if anyone wants to hear more#bruce wayne#batman#dc#dick grayson#Robin#flying graysons#halyās circus#tw injuries#tw character death
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deep inside him, a voice whispered, if he catches me, iāllā¦
ā¦
āthanks,ā he said in a hoarse voice.
he wasnāt scared of faking. he has fallen so many times over the years. but hitting the group still hurt.
i am going to have a fucking Event right now
#not only literally#with falling from the tree and plummeting into the burial mounds#but wei wuxian has lived his entire life in free fall#and the worst always comes when itās that impact - that moment when thereās no going back#like in the burial mounds with the wens. life was unpredictable and he did what he had to - and then jin zixuan dies#and then itās over! heās hit the ground! and thereās no getting back up - thereās no going back#itās all over!#mdzs
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ā PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.
ā ā āswoopinā in to save me again, sugar plum?ā
ā ļø mechanic!reader (but it isnāt really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (maāam used once at the end) wc 1k.
āyour bounty has been completed!ā
boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.
āhow would you like to land?ā
the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.
āā¦good question.ā
the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. heād never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete fromā give or takeā six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasnāt the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasnāt exactly in the cards of his itinerary.
boothillās eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted itād do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless.Ā
he eventually came up with an ideaā a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound onā¦wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet.Ā
super simple, super easy. lightwork.
and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.
ācāmon now boothill,ā he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. āaināt nothinā but a lilā repositioninā.ā
he kept falling, getting closer,Ā
closerā¦
closerā¦
almost thereā¦
boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when somethingā or rather, someoneā grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked āmuddleā!ā before he could test the success rate of his plan.
the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent savioursā
of course.
boothillās sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.
āwell fudge me!ā heād slap his knee if the position allowed. ālook who it isā aināt you a sight for sore eyes!āĀ
boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.
āswoopinā in to save me again, sugar plum?ā
you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldnāt handle.
āyouāre lucky,ā you half scoff. āiāve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.ā
boothillās hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled.Ā
āaināt that the fudginā truth,ā he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. āreckon iād be flatter than a darn hotcake if it werenāt for yer timely intervention!āĀ
his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your handā instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.
āyou got somewhere to be or somethinā?ā
you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.
āyou bet i doā somewhere that aināt swarminā with those sorry IPC shirtbags!ā
it was a fair pointā a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.
running with him wasnāt so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often.Ā
you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way.Ā
āsay, remind me to getācha a drink later,ā boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. āas a thanks for all them times yāsaved my sorry behind.ā
boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.
āyouāre gonna have quite the tab going.ā you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothillās eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.
ātell ya what,ā his hand gave yours a squeeze. āi know a place. it aināt too far from here, wonāt have to worry about no one botherinā us,ā it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. āi start workinā off that tab, get a night with you, and heck weāre both winninā aināt we?āĀ
you hummed at that. it didnāt sound so bad.
āalright,ā you nodded. ābut letās focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.ā
it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.
āyou werenāt pullinā my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?ā boothill fell into a natural step behind you.
āconsider this added to your tab.ā
āyes maāam!ā
ā MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
#boothill#boothill x reader#boothill hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail headcanons#boothill honkai star rail#hsr boothill#boothill headcanons#boothill x you#star rail x reader#UNEARTHLY
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he canāt sleep without you. | roommate!scara x gn!reader.
in which you are both are roommates (gasp). and he cannot seem to have a goodās night rest without your warmth.
notes: clingy scara!!, profanity, mutual pining, one mention of innuendo but still sfw, scara is sort of like a cat that waits outside of the bathroom door, not profread
roommate!scara small hcs: here | masterlist
For someone so adamant about getting all his 8 hours of sleep, he sure as hell was too willing to lose it so easily.
With one hand begrudgingly wiping away the drowsiness from his eyes, he clenches the blanket closer in the other, shivering as the breeze hits his puffed cheeks and loose top that he carelessly slipped into the night before.
Scaramouche felt the heaviness weighing on his movement; his hair was no doubt disheveled, and his dark circles were already starting to pull underneath his bottom eyelids. Miserably, he tried to run his fingers through the strands, only to struggle when he was met with a particular knot...
In other words, he felt like complete shit.
ā¦
Just where are you right now?
Squinting at the faint light peering through the corridor, he hears nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door.
Tossing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he briefly weighed his options:
Either pass out on the cold, hard ground
Watch the lost hours take a toll on his plummeting mood as he waits for you.
Neither which seemed possible nor pleasant to him.
God, are those his only alternatives? He drags a hand down his face, slipping on some fuzzy cat sandals (a gift, courtesy of you after convincing him that it was well worth the price only to see him lap around rocking cute merch, much to your amusement).
And his mind reels back at the thought of you.
ā¦
A normal and sane person wouldnāt limp his way out of the bedroom; a normal and sane person wouldnāt take the time dragging his dwindling patience and weary feet towards a conveniently placed bathroom door; a normal and sane person would instead, hog the blankets and fall back to sleep...
ā¦
Despite this, Scaramouche found himself at the mercy of the blazing light at the aforementioned conveniently placed bathroom door.
He scoffs. āA normal and sane person.ā
With his blanket draped across the wooden tiled floor, his hand dug out from under the duvet before landing swift knocks on the wood.
1 knock.
Then 2.
Then finally, 3.
Scaramouche clenches the makeshift coat closer, shivering as he shoots glares at the door.
āAre you done?ā Scaramouche grumbled before plummeting his head onto the door itself; a sense of exasperation flowing through him and by god, he hoped you could sense his desperation too. āCome back to bed, it is too cold.ā His sense of shame would come back in the morning once he was more lucid. But right now, he just wanted to sleep.
And unfortunately, he also wanted you.
ā
It started as a simple movie night: hiding within the cozy sheet of a small blanket, huddling closer for warmth, pressing up so close against each other. Even with the screen blaring on his face, the clear exhaustion from a movie marathon, he still found comfort in the way your fingers gently roamed and traced down his back then up to brush the hair sticking out from his neck. While his head rested comfortably at your shoulder, humming slightly to the background static.
This was becoming a regular occurrence:
You suggest a movie after watching him fumble around with his work, eyes nearly drooping after painstakingly looking at a computer all day, with coffee prepared in those branded āBest Employe of the Yearā mugs his company loves parade around. With one quick glance at his sad form, you were already coaxing him onto the couch for ājust a few minutesā until suddenly, he was cozied in pajamas and the blanket wrapped around him like some sort of makeshift hostage situation.
More and more, until he finds himself cuddling close to your form, his arms wrapped under the fabric of your waist, and your leg lifted onto his hip.
More and more, until he is the one to instead force you out of your chair and into watching a horror movie with him, sliding snacks he knows youāll indulge in when he doesnāt see.
More and more, until he feels you wrap the blanket around him the next day, gently whispering a quick āgood morningā before quickly making a beeline to the bathroom in order to prepare for work.
But in your absence, his hand reaches out after you, eyes flat on the door: a fleeting acknowledgment and the longing to get you back into his arms.
It was maddening.
..So, this was no different.
Another excuse to press close against each other; the cold chill from that busted heater leaving you to fend for yourself with the only pair of a heated blanket until the next morningābringing you to offer another movie.
This time, childhood classics.
āYou know, we should sleep together,ā you suddenly say, the rumbling from your chest awakening him.
He pauses, his head lifting from his spot. āExcuse me?ā
āLike bed-sharing. Cuddling. Horizontally lying on a mattress. Together. Ever heard of the concept?ā you chuckled. āWhat were you thinking about?ā
He makes a face. āAbsolutely nothing.ā And he turns on his side, his back to your chest, away from your stifling laughter. āā¦Why are even asking in the first place?ā comes out after a moment.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the way you stretched your arms out to release some of the tension from your body, then leaned your head on his shoulder. āWeāve been doing this for a while, yeah? I donāt know, heater is still kinda busted and I kinda donāt want to be alone right now.ā
There was an extended pause in his reply.
Truthfully, there were little reasons to hate the arrangement and even fewer reasons to refuse it. In fact, with the way your chin comfortably sits on his skin, his mind was reeling with warmth despite the bitter cold biting his skin.
āNo worries, the deal is still on the table so donāt feel pressured,ā you smile up at him, taking his silence as a refusal. āI can go out to get-ā
Then he cuts you off, huffing with amusement. āSure, do what you want.ā
And he leaves it at that, already scooting closer to your chest and comfortably making room in your arms.
But soon, he feels you gently intertwine your hands together, pulling the back of his to your lips. With your eyes glinting with fondness, you breathe in. āThanks.ā and before he can react, you were already pressing your face into the curve of his neck, contentment rolling off on you in waves.
ā¦You were maddening.
ā
For a moment, there was no other sound except the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffling of footsteps behind the bathroom door. Scaramouche sighs.
From being habitually conditioned into only sleeping by your side, he finds that the aftermath led up to whatever state he is in right now.
3:12 am. He checks once more. You were taking long. He embraces the cool chill, the blanket already half shallowing his body at this point, spilling to the bottom like some coat.
He probably looks ridiculous standing in front of the bathroom, tapping his foot, impatiently waiting for your return.
Like a cat, he could hear you say.
And as if you heard his increasingly humbling pleas, before long, the door peers open, shedding light on his poor eyes and through his rather tense squinting. Barely stepping foot into the room, you jump at the sight of your roommateāwho, he would have guessed from your dumbfounded gasp and prolonged stare, you werenāt expecting to be up at this hour.
āā¦How long were you standing there?ā
He only regarded you with the tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed at your form. āLong enough.ā he murmured.
With your eyes doused with concern, he watched as you took one step towards him, reaching out to tug his hand back into your room. āSorry, had to use the bathroom.ā That was until you seemed to catch the odd blush on his face, dimmed light exposing his visage. He could almost sense your glee the moment you decide you werenāt going to pity his poor self. āDid you miss me by chance?ā
Firmly, he quickly tugs you closer, landing his head on your shoulder and pointedly ignoring your comment. āJust shit faster, I need to sleep.ā
Scaramouche didnāt comment on how you sucked in a harsh breath, lips parting as he hugged you tighter. Buried into your neck, he fought the smile that crept up on his face and the raging heat coaling in his cheeks. He heard a soft laugh echo into the air before a lightweight softly hit his head, humming a gentle: āMissed you too.ā
He wasnāt sure if it was pounding in his ears or the thumping of your heartbeat, but as your warmth wrapped around his cool body, his composure ever so slightly weakened and lulled into a quiet hum. Gathering all his aches in a single embrace, he canāt help but desperately tug onto your shirt, demanding a resemblance of dignity ā only for it to fail terribly as he leaned in closer, his body already weak to the kisses you press against his temples.
And that was enough for him.
(That was enough for his mind to come to a rest.)
So yes, you were revolting in every sense of the word. And yet if he were to choose, Scaramouche would willingly suck up his pride than ever pull away from your warm embrace.
#LMAOOO#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#scaramouche#who is up and yearning right now
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note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!
extra note: this is an unofficial part 2 !! link
Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.
you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you afterĀ rafeĀ brutally beat him.Ā
the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, andĀ rafeĀ decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room.Ā
"listen, kid,Ā iĀ don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.
his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - butĀ rafeĀ had some control over you that you could never explain.Ā
"iĀ know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "butĀ babyĀ iĀ don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something.Ā
you finally gasped out, "butĀ iĀ wanna see you!"Ā
he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm.Ā
"rafe? please."Ā
"no."
that was it. so you got another job, and later on,Ā rafeĀ told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious.Ā allĀ the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tellĀ rafeĀ but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.
but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and whileĀ rafeĀ would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress.Ā
the owner,Ā delanyĀ liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, givingĀ rafeĀ a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great.Ā
but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barelyĀ breathĀ - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant.Ā
how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly didĀ rafeĀ even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes.Ā but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.
finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over toĀ delany.Ā
"iĀ have to go."Ā
Ėāą¼ā§āĖ.
the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat.Ā
urgency drummed through your veins as you foundĀ rafe. 12:35.Ā it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him.Ā
he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body.Ā
"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "iĀ love that you're here butĀ iĀ told you about visiting me, didn'tĀ i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in.Ā
maybe he saw the wayĀ youĀ sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy.Ā
the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed.Ā
"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now.Ā what'sĀ wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle.Ā
finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again.Ā finallyĀ with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart.Ā
rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by hisĀ fathersĀ words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around inĀ tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you.Ā
finally, he closed his eyes, "it'sĀ gonna be okay."Ā
you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no,Ā rafe,Ā iĀ didn't know what was going to happen, please-"Ā yourĀ hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay.Ā
rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right?Ā yeah, andĀ iĀ want you to stay here with me. 'causeĀ iĀ need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms.Ā
he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears.Ā
"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes.Ā
Ā "you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it'sĀ time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.
you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "wantĀ you to watch,Ā 'kay?Ā i'mĀ fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach,Ā "youĀ and baby."Ā
dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day.Ā
#boxer!rafe#rafe outer banks#obx fic#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#angst#fluff#rafe obx#drabble#boxer!au#shy!reader#pregnancy#dad!rafe#obx#outer banks#dad!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe concepts#rafe cameron prompt#SCREAMING i need boxer!rafe in my guts
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Flag IV
Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Child!Reader
Summary: You're hurt and scared
Your head throbs as you wake up, the pitter-patter of rain falling on your skin.
The rain is cold but your tears are hot, scorching your skin as they roll down your cheeks.
The butterfly you were chasing is missing, flown away to hide from the spring storm that you now find yourself trapped in.
You don't know how long it has been raining but you're soaked to the bone and shivering.
Two Jordans whine at you, both blurry around the edges as you sit up.
There is a sharp rock where your head was, blood being washed away as the rain gets heavier.
The Jordans whine at you again and you reach out for one of them but your hand passes right through.
"Jordi?" You ask as the second Jordan nudges you with his snout," I'm tired. Where's...Where's Mama and Mummy?"
Your eyes slip closed for a moment. It's easy to nod off even though you're very cold and your head feels icky.
Jordan barks and you jolt awake again, head throbbing.
Hot blood runs from your forehead down your face as your gaze goes blurry again, Jordan just a weird dog shaped blur.
You want Mama and Mummy. You don't know where they are.
The rain turns to snow quickly and the temperature plummets, your clothes freezing on your body.
Your breath comes out in a puff in front of you.
Jordan barks again, lightly nudging you under a little ledge. It does little to stop the cold but it keeps you out of the snow that clings and melts in your hair.
Jordan is warm against you and you shiver, little hands burying themselves into his fur.
"Mama an' Mummy," You say through cracked lips," Jordi...Where Mama an' Mummy?"
You don't remember much, not really.
You were playing in the forest with Frida earlier and she let you run ahead with Jordan a little bit, as long as you stayed in sight at all times.
There was a fork in the path. Usually, you swing right but Jordan got distracted by a butterfly and went left.
You followed after him, distracted by the butterfly too.
You'd tripped on something. You're not sure what it was, maybe an upturned root or tree branch. You'd tripped though and went tumbling down into the ditch.
You must have hit your head on that rock because your head is all sticky with blood.
"J-Jordi," You say, shivering," 'm cold. Mummy an' Mama be here soon?"
Jordan doesn't answer you, patting his front paws on the ground as you lean more heavily into him.
"'m tired too," You say," Havin' a little nap."
Your fingertips are freezing. You can barely move them as they go from their usual colour to a little purple. Your lips are the same colour but you can't see them.
"Jus' a little nap. A little one, Jordi."
Your eyes slip closed again as you lean your head against Jordan's body.
He whines a little, shifting around before he's curled fully around you.
Jordan's nice and warm like your blankets at home, when you're wedged between Mama and Mummy in front of the fire with a little mug of hot chocolate that Mummy makes special for you with whipped cream, chocolate shavings and marshmallows.
You don't know how long you nap for or even if you nap at all.
It's like one long blink as Jordan shifts away from you, barking and snarling.
You've never heard Jordan snarl before so you try to wrench your eyes open. It's hard going though, frozen shut by all your tears, but eventually, you get them open.
There's another dog shaped blur in front of Jordan, lying down on the ground nonplussed.
There's a human shape too and you puff out a big breath.
"Mama?"
"No, sweetie," The blob says," I'm not your Mama. But I'm here to take you to her. Can you come a bit closer?"
You try to get closer but you don't have much strength to get to your feet, all shaky and weak.
Jordan whines when you fall over and snaps as the strange woman comes closer.
"Easy," She says to your dog," I'm here to help her. That's a nasty cut you've got there. Can you tell me how it happened?"
"I...I hurted myself when I fell. Big ouchie."
"Yeah, it is. I've got a little bandage here, can I put it on you?"
"Bandage? Like-Like a plaster?"
"Like a big plaster."
You lean forward and the woman gently presses the gauze over your bleeding head.
"And what about your eyesight? Can you see me properly?"
"Like-Like a blob," You answer," Saw two Jordi's earlier but now only one."
"Okay, sweetheart, thanks for telling me." She reaches for her radio. "I've got her here. Skipper tracked her and her dog down. I've got a serious head wound and a likely grade three concussion. Complaints of blurry vision. Likely loss of consciousness. Difficulties with balance and speech. I've got early symptoms of hypothermia but it seemed her dog helped stave the worst of that off."
You reach out for Jordan again, who presses into your body.
"Got it, boss. Bringing her in now."
The woman reaches for you and you go willingly.
She'll take you to Mama and Mummy.
Jordan pads after you, still wary.
Emma sits at the entrance of the forest next to the ambulance. Frida sobs at her side, both of them wrapped in a blanket as they wait.
They know the paramedic has found you now, her and her dog Skipper have tracked you and Jordan down but it doesn't quell Emma's worry for you.
Not until the high-vis jacket pokes out from the forest and the search and rescue team swarm.
A blanket is wrapped around you tightly and the gauze is gently pulled away from your face to see the extent of the injury.
"Squish?" Frida calls, trying to fight through the crowd," Is she okay? Will she be alright?"
You're loaded into the ambulance, awake and talking as Emma and Frida crowd around you.
"Mama. Mummy," You say," Found me."
"Yeah," Emma says, blinking away tears," Of course we found you, squish."
You shiver. "Stayed put like you told me if I got lost. Stayed with Jordi."
Emma glances down at her feet. Jordan's covered in snow, streaks of blood drying on his fur.
"Jordi, good boy."
"The best boy."
Frida takes Emma's place talking to you, cupping your cheek as Emma reaches down for Jordan.
"You're such a good boy, Jordi," She tells him," For looking after her. The best big brother in the world."
"He almost attacked Skipper for trying to get to her," The search and rescue paramedic that found you says," He was very worried on the walk back. You've got a good one there. Both of them. She didn't run off. She stayed exactly where she fell."
"Thank you, for finding her."
"It's my job. We've got a hospital nearby that will take care of you all. They'll take her for a scan, sew up her head and put her on concussion watch. She'll be fine."
Emma can't help but repeat it again. "Thank you."
"Go," The woman says," Be with your kid."
You won't remember much of this experience. You'll never really remember the fall or the crack of your skull against the rock. You'll never really remember the nearly three hours you spent missing, huddled under the ledge with Jordan, who was desperately trying to keep you awake as your breathing got shallower and shallower and your got colder and colder.
You'll never remember the trip to the hospital but you will remember the paramedic that found you and her dog Skipper.
You will always remember her high-vis jacket and her body against yours as she carried you out of the forest back to your mothers.
You will always carry that memory with you, even when you're out in your own high-vis jacket with your own tracking dog and your own emergency medicine kit.
#woso x reader#emma lennartsson x reader#emma lennartsson#frida maanum x reader#frida maanum#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
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literally just kƶnig jacking off to you and being delusional idk
Heās tossing and turning in bed, and he canāt seem to get comfortable no matter what he does. He had ditched his shirt after around an hour of staring up at the dark ceiling and feeling like his chest was going to cave in, but the sensation still wouldnāt leave him even after. Like itās clinging on to every square inch of his body and eating away at him, similar to his tight shirt before being removed, though refusing to dissipate after the multiple attempts in distracting himself.
Heās burning up, and he feels it most beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He stretches his back and shoulders against his mattress, but it gives him no relief. And he needs that relief, so desperately, he thinks he may just die if he goes another minute longer in this state. The twitching in his muscles with the compulsion that plagues them are far stronger than his mind. He huffs a final exasperation, mutters some broken and degrading swears in German, and ultimately, he gives in.
He swipes his unusually cold palm over his face before dragging it down his chest, trailing across his abdomen and following the wake of soft hair that disappears beneath the peaking waistband of his boxers. His fingertips stretch the band as they dip beneath it, and his breathing is becoming heavier yet weaker, more shaky-like, as they creep closer to where he needs attention the most.
Heās teasing himself, involuntarily and painfully. Perhaps this is his last attempt to allow himself a second thought, think twice before he commits such a dirty act on military grounds. But his mind is far too fuzzy to pay attention, itās just been so long.
His hand finds his cock, exhaling a shaky breath at the forbidden contact, this is his last chance to turn back. His boxers are growing to be too tight around him, and this time he wonāt be able to just put up with it until his thoughts dissipate. He needs release, and soon. It wonāt be much, itās only once, and then he can finally sleep, he convinces himself.
He pulls his boxers down his pelvis, leaving them just below where his hard cock is now free. He wraps his fist around his base, fingers enveloping each vein that bulges with desperation. He groans ever so softly, jaw slacked and eyes closed as goosebumps coat his chest and arms. Itās mere seconds before his mind is plummeting into uncontrollable thoughts and damned-worthy desires.
Itās your hand, heās already imagining. Itās your smaller fingers around his cock, not enough to compensate for his size but still a hundred-times better than any fist could work. He knows youād make it work. Youāre clever like that, far more than he is.
Itās your thighs straddling his as your arm moves up and down at an excruciating pace. He needs your weight on him so fucking bad, preferably on his shoulders and face as heād hold you down on his mouth. Fuck, he needs to taste you so bad.
Itās your voice that would talk him through it, command him on what to do until heās broken down to the young, naive, want-to-be soldier he once was. Heāll do anything you say. Heāll walk through Hell and back if you tell him to. Hand on his heart, honest to whatever god may be out there. Smack him around.
Anything you say.
And itās him who would satisfy your every want with unending diligence to thank you. Just fucking use him, already.
He couldnāt shake the thought, no matter how hard he tried.
No matter how dirty he felt imagining his coworker in such a position, rather than a woman of what he thinks his type should be, or even an actress from a porn magazine. No matter how unlikely it was that heād have a chance with you, itās downright embarrassing. And no matter how heavy that guilt sat in his gut, his fist only squeezes tighter with his strokes, retaining that languid speed that has him gritting his teeth.
You flood his mind and you donāt even know the magnitude of it because youāre just a girl living your, perhaps slightly unconventional, life in the military, and heās the coworker that people only look twice at to check if, yes, he really is that tall.
Flashes of your face, and that pretty body of yours in the most innocent of outfits, refuse to quit their tormenting of his mind, and here he was, fucking his fist to them at night like a desperate dog. He wants to see how your skin would contrast his pale and heavily scarred exterior, and how you would surely take him from his comfort zone and make him a better man.
He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock with a broken whine, collecting his pre and spreading it down his shaft as far as it goes; fuck, heās so sensitive, and he just needs more. He can hear your voice in the back of his mind, conceptualizing what you would say as you guide him past his threshold. Youād be so sweet on him, just as you always are on the rare occasion youāre put in a position together where talking seemed the best option for pastime. You really are just perfectly perfect all around, he thinks, and he wants you to know it, so bad.
Youāre too good for him, youāre too striking. Truthfully, while the thought of you taking care of him in his most vulnerable state has him thirsting like a dog and bucking his hips up into nothing but a mangled hand and cold air, he knows thatās not him. No, he needs to be of service, one way or another.
He knows heād be on his knees in front of you, on the ground you walk on, looking up at you with big eyes as heād place kisses all up and down your bare thighs, careful not to ruin your clothes. Heād worship every part of your body until all you knew was utter admiration, though he doubts youāve ever gone a day without being honored for your being.
How could any man not leap at the opportunity to praise your every step in life, especially if youāve taken him to bed?
He actually whines out into the empty space of his quarters, face all beet red and eyes bleary from surprising himself with such an act. Self-deprecating whispers linger in the back of his mind and will remain for when heās later clearheaded, but for now, the only thing he can think to do is continue fisting his sensitive cock to the notion of being with you.
Heād let you mold him to whatever you wanted, heād beg you to ride his face and get yourself off with his assistance. He wants to get drunk on your pussy, he knows he would. He knows youād taste better than anything he has ever had, and he knows he wouldnāt be able to stop himself once he starts unless you say something. Punish him, even, for not doing it right or knowing both of your limits because heās just such a hungry, greedy whore who only wants more, more, and more.
Should you ever let him into your life, heād be better off quitting his job and dedicating his future to just making you feel so good and so loved, and so, so proud of him. He wants to hear you call him a good boy, maybe even a loyal slut. Etch it into his skull so he could never forget, as if thatād ever be possible.
Heād fuck you in any position youād like, and he means any.
Lay on your back, legs spread and just begging for him to bury his face in your cunt, and heāll listen like the good boy he is until youāre beyond satisfied. Stretch it out to hours if you please; the man has stamina that would put any gold-medalist to shame, and never once in his life, has he been a quitter.
āiām good, i promise i amā¦ iāll be a good boy for you, please.ā
Pin him to the mattress and ride him until he canāt think or speak, use him to reach your own high while taking him for all that he has because thatās all heās there for, is to make you feel good. The strictest soldier would turn to putty under your hold.
ādas istāā¦sātoo much, ich flehe dichānghā! bitte, bitteāā
Pull him into an abandoned building and make him fuck you on the cold, hard floor despite being at work, on the job. He would jeopardize even the highest value of intel for a piece of you.
āiāll do anything, i swearā¦ iāll be quiet, i-iāll let you use meā¦ jusā wanna make you feel good. itāll make me feel good, too.ā
Either way, heās going to end up on his knees once again and, if you allowed, watch his pearly cum drip from your puffy cunt before taking two of his fingers and pushing it back in, words and babbles of endless praise slipping from his lips as he imagines the idea of starting his own little family with you.
His abdomen feels tighter just thinking of it, you, and his hand with a lethargic pace around his cock. His breathing is jagged, ruthlessly so, and it picks up when his fist does as well. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, dying whimpers spilling from his lips. Your name, as well, and heās blushing more violently then ever. Youāve got a spell on him; heās all yours, if you want.
Christ, what would you say to him right now? Scold him, berate him. Even slap him for jerking off to the mental image of you without your permission, and edge him until he cries like an abandoned baby. Call him pathetic and promise him heāll never, ever have a chance because he is such a coward, and all.
Oh, but youāre just so sweet on him. He doesnāt think heās ever even heard you swear, let alone insult someone. You go to such great lengths to lighten the mood, make people feel so safe and welcome around you. And your fucking laugh, Christ, your giggles are always music to his ears. Anything that isnāt praise would sound far too foreign in your voice for him to compute. With those soft, plump lips at his ear, cooing him through his high heās gonna reach so early, so fucking soonā fuck, he'sā¦
Heās gonnaā
A soft knocking on his door causes his hand to stop and eyes to shoot open, lightly gasping for air as he was pulled just seconds away from his orgasm. Heās frozen, dead in his tracks, and he waits for it to happen again to make sure he wasnāt just hearing things. The one time, he succumbs to his perverse hankerings.
A few seconds go by before he hears the knocking once more, this time sure it was for him. He swiftly sits up and then stands, shoving his cock in his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He leans down to grab his shirt, pulling it over his big head, introducing a new type of discomfort from before due to the cold sweat he broke coating his chest. Heās reaching for his helmet when thereās a voice coming from the other side of the door, and the hardened soldier nearly jumps in surprise.
āKƶnig?ā
Oh, fuck. His entire body tenses up at the wake of your voice. Outside his room, right now, when he was just fucking his fist to the image of you. He couldnāt begin to describe or label what heās feeling, but itās something along the lines of utter shame and mortification. He mutters a quick and defeated curse under his breath, aggression only aimed at himself.
Youāre speaking up again before he even has time to think, granted his mind was spinning and he was making no move to answer you. Heās frozen, stuck in space. Time seemed to race by him without warning, and he hated it.
āAre you awake?ā
Your voice is gentle, as always, and so quiet in order to not wake anyone else in the corridor. Heās surprised he could understand you so well, then again, heād recognize your voice from a klick away.
Could you hear him from outside his door? He wouldnāt ever be able to recover. His hard cock twitches in his pants at the thought of being caught in the act of jerking off to you, and he shakes his head, fighting back the groan boiling in his chest at the simple, yet so fucking intricate, idea of it. Heās a mess.
He decides against the hood, which would most likely prove a mistake as he could literally feel the heat exuding from his face. He knows his hair is a sore sight and his clothes are wrinkled beyond repair. Youāve ruined him, and you donāt even know it.
He swallows thickly as he trudges over to the door, attempting to clear his throat and stabilize his breathing, and his hot palm lands on the screaming door handle.
#cod mw2#kƶnig#kƶnig x reader#kƶnig x fem reader#kƶnig x female reader#kƶnig smut#kƶnig mw2#kƶnig cod
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I Canāt Lose Him
Pairing: Azriel x Cassianās twin!healer!reader
Summary: When Azriel is injured during the war with Hybern, will your healing abilities be enough to save him?
Warnings: blood, injured az, needles, detailed medical treatment (let me know if I missed anything!), Painfully inaccurate to the original storyline
a/n: this is my first fic! I would love feedback and let me know if youād love to hear more! This could be part of an ongoing universe where Y/N is Cassianās twin sister and a healer.
The sound of the heavy cloth covering the entrance to the medical tent being whipped open caught your immediate attention. Your head jolted up from the wound you were currently cleaning from a warrior. Blood and dirt had oozed from his leg, but you had managed to hold pressure long enough to staunch the bleeding. Now, as you sewed the ends of his skin back together, your eyes darted around the tent, looking for whomever it was that entered in such a panicked hurry.
You saw Rhys at the entrance, looking around wildly for something, or maybe someone. When his wild eyes met yours and stayed there, your heart skipped a beat, knowing it was your worst nightmare coming to life.
You quickly handed your stitching task to one of your healers. āFinish for me, Jessina,ā you asked, before rushing to Rhysā side. There was only one reason he would be in the medical tent.
āWho is it?ā You asked hesitantly, afraid of what his answer might be. When Rhys didnāt immediately respond, you knew it must be bad. āCassian? Feyre? Please, Rhys, say something.ā You avoided saying the one name you feared most out loud, as if merely saying it would make it true.
But Rhys shook his head and you knew your silent prayer for your mate would go unanswered.
āY/N,ā Rhys began, gripping your wrists, āitās not good. Cassian is trying to get him out.ā
āHow bad is it?ā You whispered, afraid your voice would give out.
You felt sharp talons scraping at your mental shield, which you lowered just enough for Rhys to slither through. Immediately, a scene played for you in your mind, consuming all your senses. You knew you were watching Rhysā memory.
Azriel flew with the large Illyrian legion above him, their great wings sounding in unison like the beat of a war drum. Headed straight for the group of winged Hybern enemies, the two armies collided in a tangle of swords and wings and limbs. Rhys watched as warriors from both sides suffered injuries, but it wasnāt until a certain Shadowsinger caught the wrong end of a Hybern sword that he faced a fate of plummeting hundreds of feet to the hard ground below him. Faster and faster Azriel fell, twisting in the air with the Hybern enemy he refused to untangle himself with, clearly vowing to take down whoever he could with him. As the couple dropped closer and closer to the ground, Rhys knew the fall alone would kill his Spymaster. At the last moment, Rhys flung out his power, hoping it would create at least some type of force field between Azriel and the ground before he hit the dirt with a sickening thud, and moved no more. Rhys, too far away to make it to his brother in time, immediately called out to Cassianās mind to retrieve him and ran to the medical tent to alert the best healer he knew.
The vision ended with Rhys slithering quickly out of your mind. āOh gods,ā you whispered, a hand flying to your mouth in disbelief. Immediately you opened your end of the bond and were met with a severe onslaught of pain, agony, and fear. The force of the emotions hit you like a tidal wave, and would have forced you to your knees if Rhys wasnāt there to steady you. It wasnāt until you closed your side of the bond again that you were able to breathe and think normally, instead of being all-consumed by the pain.
āIncoming, Y/N,ā Rhys warned, and almost immediately the tent flaps whipped open again, revealing a wild eyed Cassian and a writhing, screaming Azriel in his arms. Blood covered the Shadowsinger and Cassian, dripping steadily to the floor where they stood. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta pushed through the tent flaps behind Cassian, effectively crowding your tiny medical space.
Every instinct told you to reach out for your mate, to fall at his feet and beg anyone, anything, to save him. But you forced yourself to take one look at a sobbing Azriel, and you turned away, screaming for Madja.
āGet the surgical supplies ready!ā You screamed as you raced for the metal table in the back of the medical tent. Reserved only for emergent needs, the metal table was hidden behind a large white sheet to hide the horrors that happened there from the other onlooking wounded.
You turned back to your mate, thankful that Cassian had the sense to follow you. āPut him there,ā you ordered, pointing to the metal table. āGently Cassian, on his back. Watch his wings!ā You closed your eyes as Cassian settled his brother on the table. The innate part of you that felt the panic rising in fear for your mateās life had to be pushed down. You felt it coming in waves, but forced yourself to keep it contained. You knew that if you let your instincts get ahead of you, then it was a death sentence for you mate.
The sharp talons scraped again, and you let Rhys in fully this time, allowing him to speak to you.
āHe needs you, Y/N. You can do this,ā Rhys whispered into your mind. You sent your gratitude to him mind-to-mind, and allowed him to stay inside your metal shields as a form of comfort and communication for what lay ahead.
When you opened your eyes again, Madja was at your side, setting up the supplies you might need. Digging deep into your power, you reached a hand out to Azriel, who lay on the table writhing in agony, blood quickly pooling around him and dripping off the cold metal table to the floor below. When you touched your hand to his chest, you let out a full blast of your power, giving him a jolt of pain as he felt it singe all of his senses. He cried out as your power raced through his body to assess for wounds and injuries.
The information relayed back to you was horrifying. Multiple cuts and bruising littered Azriels skin, including a deep laceration to his scalp, which was the source of most of his bleeding. Thankfully, the head injury seemed to be only skin deep, preserving his skull and brain from damage.
The same couldnāt be said for his left hip and leg, which lay at an odd angle from the multiple fractures beneath the skin. His hip, completely dislocated, and lower leg were broken into multiple pieces. A dislocated right shoulder and a few cracked ribs were the extent of the injuries on the right side of his body. His wings were badly damaged from the fall, with snapped bones and holes in the delicate membrane, but they would have to be fixed last. You could only rightly assume he had fallen to the ground and landed on his left side, because most importantly was the multitude of broken ribs on his left flank, two of which were folded inward, puncturing and deflating his left lung completely.
Rhys, who has been quietly sitting at the back of your mind, accidentally let a blast of his own terror into your mind as he felt your power relay the information back to you. You immediately caught eyes with the High Lord, and from your shared mind, you knew he was thinking the same thing you were.
The broken ribs and punctured lung was the same injury that killed his father when you failed to save him during the first war with Hybern.
āThings have changed since then,ā Rhys reassured you. You kept your eyes locked as you silently communicated, pushing the rising nausea back down deep into your belly. āYouāre the best healer in all the courts. If anyone has will save him, it will be you.ā
āY/N!ā Nesta shouted from beside you, pulling your attention away from your silent conversation and back to reality. āHeās losing a lot of blood, you need to do something!ā
āI canāt move,ā Azriel gasped between sobs of pain. āI canāt move!ā
You realized with a quick jerk of your arm back that you had kept your hand on his chest while conversing with Rhys, accidentally paralyzing him in the process as your power rippled over him. Now that you had removed your hand, he began thrashing again.
With a quick flick of your wrist, the bleeding from Azrielās scalp stopped, the capillaries fused shut. āHead wounds bleed a lot, but thatās not his problem,ā you said to no one in particular as you turned to look at Madja. āItās his lung. Itās like before.ā
Madja, who had been with you at the time of the previous High Lordās death, immediately understood. āGet ready to turn him,ā she said, turning her attention to Cassian and giving him instructions.
āHis legs,ā you said, reaching for his shattered hip. āI need to stabilize them before we move him or he may never walk again.ā
A deep, pained groan left Azrielās mouth as you ran your hand along his legs, purposefully paralyzing them this time. Forcing the bones straight, the once stoic shadow singer let out a gasp of agony as the bones ground against one another.
āYou will walk again, brother,ā you heard Cassian whisper, as he prepared to follow Madjaās instructions to turn him.
āYouāll have to keep him still, Cassian,ā you warned your twin, āIāll have to cut him open.ā
With a quick nod and a count to three, Madja and Cassian log rolled Azriel onto his right side and positioned him to give unrestricted access to his left flank. The fighting leathers were easily cut away from his body under Madjaās expert tools. Whispering a quick spell under your breath, you felt your hands clean and sterilize themselves in preparation for the first cuts.
āPut him to sleep, Rhys,ā you said out loud. The High Lord quickly approached the table and put his hands around Azrielās head, trying to break into his mind to effectively knock him out.
When a few moments went by and Azriel was still gasping in pain and cursing under his breath, you began to worry.
āWhatās going on?ā You asked Rhys in your head.
āHis shields,ā he responded out loud, āheās too high strung to relax long enough for me to break through. Theyāre ironclad.ā
The rising panic threatened to overwhelm you as you faced the impending reality of having to cut through your mateās skin to his lung while he was awake.
āYou have to do it,ā Madja said, confirming your worst nightmare. āWe can only hope heāll pass out from the pain.ā Her arm extended toward you, scalpel in her hand for you to take.
Please pass out, please pass out, please pass out, became your internal mantra as you took the blade from Madja. Taking a deep breath, you lined it up with Azrielās tanned skin. āIām sorry, Az,ā you whispered as the blade sliced through skin and muscle and tissue, eliciting screams of pain from your mate that echoed through the medical tent.
āKeep him still, Cassian,ā you ordered as you continued to cut through to Azrielās lung. He was still conscious, beads of sweat dripping from Rhys brow as he attempted to break through his mental shields.
When you had successfully reached the damaged lung, you extended an arm into Azrielās body, spreading your powers through him again, concentrating on that particular area. When your powers shot through his body this time, he flinched again, nearly falling off the table to the ground.
āDamnit, Cassian!ā You shouted. āKeep him still or Iām going to kill him! Iām elbow deep in his body! Whatās going on, Rhys?ā
āI canāt get through!ā He responded, fear lacing his words and working its way into your mind. You pushed him out of your head, reestablishing your own mental shields. You had enough of your own fear, you didnāt need someone elseās in your mind as well.
You made eye contact with Feyre from across the room. Panic danced in her eyes but she opened her mind to you immediately when you made eye contact.
You send an image into her head of a small box hidden well in yours and Azriels shared tent. āBring it to me,ā you commanded. Within seconds, she was gone.
You continued to work on Azrielās wound, using your powers to close the wound and reinflate the lung. With the wound still deep and oozing blood continuously, Madja handed you the supplies to stitch the lung closed. All the while, Azriel fought Cassian on the table, awake and writing in pain.
You sensed Feyreās arrival back into the tent and at your side the moment she returned. Madja recognized the box and nodded her head in agreement. Without taking your eyes off your work, you instructed Feyre with the next steps.
āTake the needle out and draw up the clear liquid in the red vial. Itās an extremely strong pain tonic. I save it for emergency cases, and itās incredibly potent.ā
Feyre did as instructed and drew the liquid into the syringe. You pulled one hand out of Azriels chest and pointed to a spot along his left shoulder muscle. āStab the needle there, and make it deep. Inject the tonic there.ā
Feyre hesitated, her hands shaking the needle she held. āIām not like you, Y/N, I canāt do something like that.ā
You finally looked up at your High Lady and caught her eye. You briefly let your instinct take over and let the panic be heard in your voice as it cracked. āPlease, Feyre,ā you begged. āPlease, I canāt lose him.ā
With another cry of agony from Azriel, she eyed the spot you had marked with a bloody finger on his shoulder and plunged the syringe in deep, pushing the pain tonic into his muscle.
Within seconds, Azrielās body laid limp underneath you, his screams of pain cut off and erratic breathing stopped. You felt your own heart stop in your chest as you feared the worst had happened. If your hands werenāt inside his chest so close to his beating heart, you would have thought it had stopped all together.
āItās just me!ā Rhys shouted, sensing the panic from everyone in the room. āThe medication relaxed him enough for me to shatter his shield. I knocked him out.ā
Relief flooded you and you returned to Azrielās chest to finish your work, praying you had learned enough in the last 350 years to save him.
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