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steviewashere · 9 months ago

Text

Soothed

Rating: General CW: Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Minor Discussion of Bullying Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Hurt Eddie Munson, Injured Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Worried Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, And Gets One

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is a warm hug."

💕—————💕

There was a knock at Steve’s front door.

Which is unusual to him. If somebody from the group—teenagers, adults, and preteens alike—then they’d use the spare key in the potted flower on the porch. Just barge right in, announce themself in the foyer, and let Steve find them first. They were told to be respectful, so that’s the least thing they can do.

But a knock? Unheard of. Steve pauses the movie he’s watching in the living room, stands from the couch, pops his back, and shuffles over to the front door. He turns the lock, twists the knob, and pulls the door from its jamb. On his porch: sopping wet, shivering, and down right miserable…is Eddie.

It’s late May, which means spring is in full swing. Which also means that there’s been forecasted rain. And, for some odd reason, Eddie hasn’t taken note of that. At least, that’s what Steve can gather.

Eddie’s hunched into himself. Hands gripping to his elbows. Dressed in a plain grey t-shirt and dark blue Levis, the same Reeboks he always wears. His hair, which was shaved back in March for surgery, is flat to his skull, frizzy from the rain. But, what scares Steve the most, is the dark purple bruise cupping a terribly swollen left eye. The eyeball itself is glazed over and bloodshot. His bottom lip is slightly puffy, sluggishly bleeding down his chin. And his nose, well Steve doesn’t think it’s broken, but it definitely is bloody, too. If the oddball patch below his right nostril has anything to say about it.

Steve moves to drag Eddie inside, but drops his hands when Eddie flinches away, nearly stumbling down to the concrete. He lets go of his elbows, which are now decorated with fine small crescents, and shields himself. There’s a couple smaller, red bruises decorating his wrists. As if somebody grabbed him. Steve fumes at the sight.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, “why don’t you come inside?” He steps away from the door, letting it sit open and waiting. On shuffled, hesitant feet, Eddie comes in. His eyes dart around the room before they land back on Steve. Immediately, some of the tension and fear in his big brown eyes falls away. Instead, a layer of relief and gratitude seems to fill him. Enough that his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Eds,” Steve can only coo.

Sniffling, mumbling, “They hurt me so bad,” Eddie says. He’s shivering. Whether that be from the cold or anxiety that’s surely swimming in Eddie’s stomach, Steve can’t tell. He inhales a wet gasp. Almost choking with it. “I just—I was trying to help this girl—And then they screamed at me and they—They hurt me,” he sobs. One of his hands flies up to his face, roughly wiping away the tears that try to travel down his cheeks. He presses too hard on his bruise and hisses.

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve mutters, “you’re safe here. It’s okay. They can’t get you here.” He doesn’t know who They is. But whoever they are, Steve knows he can rely on old reliable to do a good job. (Old reliable sits at the back of his closet, still crusted with blood, more nails than wood at this point). He hesitantly steps closer, palm out, ushering for Eddie to follow him to the downstairs master bathroom. There’s a part of him that hates treating Eddie like he’s a spooked little animal, defenseless and wrecked on the side of the road, one that’s been hit by a car, one that’s too afraid to realize they’ll live. But, what else is he supposed to do? Getting too close in his space seems to make Eddie freak, which is the last thing Steve wants.

Without any other words, just some wet sobs and aching cries that crumble Steve’s heart, Eddie follows on his heels. Head down to the floor, arms loose at his sides, his fingers flexing as if to press into the soft flesh of his palm. He settles over the closed toilet seat while Steve rummages through the cabinets, coming out successful with a red first aid bag in his hands. It’s heavy between his palms, overstocked and readily loaded for any and all emergencies. This feels like something detrimental, Steve hates how he’s shaking, too.

He grabs necessary first aid. Just a little bit of rubbing alcohol to get the dried blood off of Eddie’s skin, a half used tube of Neosporin, and a wad of toilet paper to hold to the wound. His nose seems to have stopped bleeding many minutes ago, so Steve’s not worried about that needing to be plugged up. But he still stands in front of Eddie—Well, actually, he crouches down onto the tiled flooring. Hard on his knees, but that puts him at eye level with the poor guy. He sets out his supplies on the lip of the bathtub, just to his right. And sets his palms softly on Eddie’s knees. He’s shaking there, too.

“Alright, Eds, tell me where it hurts. I gotta make sure you don’t have anything broken or anything that requires stitches, that’s all,” he coaxes.

Instead of speaking, Eddie displays his wrists. Turning them slowly so that Steve can see every dark splotching of bruises. He points to his eye, which was all too obvious to Steve. At his lip. The bridge of his nose. And then, he splays his left hand over his heart. Bunching the fabric of his t-shirt there. His eyes are mournful, still at the floor, not exactly looking at Steve. More like he’s looking through the floor. There are tears cascading down his face. His skin a blotchy, red and white mess, puffy from injuries and emotion.

Steve sets his own right hand over Eddie’s left. “Your heart hurts?” He asks, thumb swiping over his soft cotton shirt. “What did they do to your chest, Eds?”

Eddie shrugs and shakes his head. “They didn’t—Nothing physical.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Eddie,” Steve breathes. His own eyes are burning.

Eddie’s shoulders shake with the onslaught of new sobs and tears. But he reigns himself in quickly. His eyes finding Steve’s in a dizzyingly fast twitch. “Please help me, Steve,” he quietly pleads. “I’ll tell you, but I—I can’t—“

Steve hushes him. He grabs for the wad of toilet paper and guides it gently to Eddie’s lip. The bleeding has started anew, faster and steadier. With the press, Steve whispers, “I’ve got you. Never have to beg for my help, Eddie. Never, ever.” He holds it there for a few silent minutes. And when he takes it away, the bleeding has soothed. “I’m gonna put some Neosporin on your lip, okay? It might sting.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie lowly whispers. Still though, he winces with the small swipe of cream to his lip. Hissing minutely behind his teeth. Steve runs his other palm down Eddie’s right arm.

Once his lip is taken care of, the other areas follow easy. Wiping carefully at the tacky areas of drying blood on his skin. Underneath his lower lip, dipping a little into his right nostril, the underside of his chin. And when the first aid is done, Steve settles back on the bathroom floor, hands pressed warmly to Eddie’s knees. “Let’s get you a change of warm clothes,” he starts, “and some ice for that bruise. Do you need any ice for the ones on your wrist?” Eddie just shakes his head. “Okay,” Steve mutters, nodding. “The good news is that nothing’s broken. Just some gnarly coloring and swelling that needs remedied. How about you follow me upstairs and we can hang out in my room?”

They don’t speak as they ascend the stairs. Or as Steve hands over a small stack of clothes: green sweatpants, white long sleeve undershirt, thick grey socks. Neither of them speak as Eddie changes in the ensuite bathroom or when he slithers back into the bedroom, still hunched, still small. As they clamber into Steve’s bed, sitting up at the headboard, legs stretched in front of them, hands to themselves.

The silence is almost suffocating. Hates the small sniffles coming from his left. Hates how one of his closest friends has been reduced to the skeleton of a boy, surely somebody that Wayne met many years ago. Hates it all. Hates it.

“Do you want to know what happened?” Eddie finally croaks.

“Only if you want me to know,” Steve easily replies. Because, sure, he loves his gossip. Loves the drama that swirls around Hawkins. But Eddie’s business is his own, and if he’s embarrassed by what happened, Steve won’t force. Fuck, he knows what it’s like to get your ass beat and then want to remain silent in the aftermath.

Eddie nods slow, eyes at his folded hands, searching for the words. His tongue rolls over his top teeth. And he sighs through his nose. His voice is raspy and small when he speaks. Steve instinctually leans closer. They’re both warm, or at least, Eddie’s nearing that. “I was eating lunch in the cafeteria today,” he begins. “I ate alone because I didn’t—It’s not worth dragging attention to the rest of Hellfire. Not anymore. Didn’t even want to do one of my stupid speeches, y’know?” Steve hums.

He continues, “This girl—probably a sophomore, I don’t know—had walked behind my table. But she tripped over something and fell straight to the ground, her lunch was spilled all over the place, down the front of her shirt. She was crying. And I—“ He huffs, closes his eyes, and roams his teeth again. His head falls back, hitting the headboard with a soft Thud. Opening his eyes up at the ceiling, it’s all too obvious that they’re filling with tears again. “All I did was stand up from my seat and offer my hand to her. That’s all I did. But…Fuck,” he softly swears. His hand coming up and swiping at his eyes. “Jason’s stupid buddies saw me. Shoved me down to the ground. Scared off that girl. That poor girl. And they just beat me,” he rushes out, unwavering, though congested. “Beat me in front of all my fucking peers. So I just ran, Steve. Ran away like I always do. Back to my car and then I—I didn’t really know where I was going. Ended up here, I guess.”

Steve rests the side of his head on the board of his bed. Just looking over at Eddie. “I’m sorry, Eds,” he states sincerely. “For what they did.” He wishes there was more he could say. Could do. Eddie definitely won’t allow him to go on a rampage in his honor. But, Steve weighs the consequences in his head.

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie whispers after a moment. Sighing with the sentiment.

“I can still be sorry on your behalf,” Steve shoots right back. “I’m glad you came here, though. I’d probably worry otherwise.” He rests his left hand over Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “Is there anything else that I can do for you right now?”

For a moment, Eddie hesitates. Seemingly mulling over whatever it is he wants. Until, his head drops down and his eyes are set on Steve. Big and wet. They dart between Steve’s, searching. With whatever he found, he softly requests, “Can you hug me?”

Without another thought, Steve scoots as close as he possibly can. Their thighs hot on each other. And he scoops Eddie up between his arms. One over his shoulder blades, the other resting on his lower back. His hands splay over Eddie’s warm body. Head tucked to the side of Eddie’s.

And Eddie, he wraps back enthusiastically. A hand going to Steve’s head, the other to his right side. Fingers simply toying with the ends of Steve’s hair. He goes boneless in the embrace, sighing into it. Shoving his forehead into Steve’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Steve shakes his head. “No need.” And it’s true. Because, gosh, Steve would do anything for Eddie. If it means ridding him of all the hurt he’ll ever experience, taking it on as his own, he’d do it. In a heartbeat. “Does your chest still hurt?”

“No,” Eddie whispers, his own head knocking into Steve’s neck. “Think you fixed me. Think this fixed me.” He squeezes Steve’s torso. And then he goes quiet again. His breaths heavy, relaxed, deep into Steve’s soul. The frizzy bits to his hair tickle against Steve’s jaw with every small shuffle, like he’s trying to burrow deep between them. Steve almost wants to open up his ribcage and let him in. Then, Eddie sighs completely sated. He whispers, “Reminds me of my mom.”

“That a good thing?”

“It’s the best, Stevie,” Eddie swears. “Her hugs were like sunshine. Like just one touch and suddenly my day would just—“ And he makes a soft “Poof” noise near Steve’s ear. It warms his chest, the way Eddie animates things. “—No clouds.”

Steve nuzzles closer. “You can always come to me,” he promises. “I’ll hug you even if you don’t have the words to ask.”

I’d find you in the dark, anywhere, anytime, he almost wants to say. I’d find you by touch alone.

Eddie’s content sigh is enough of a response. It’s enough for Steve to remain pressed to him. It’s enough to make his heart beat molasses slow and comfortable.

It’s enough to make him say, “I’ve got you.” What he truly means: “I love you."

💕—————💕 Okay, I am so sorry for how long it took to get to the hug. But I literally couldn't think of a hugging interaction without a lot of information leading into it. Hope this is good, though!

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #minor violence #minor injury #steddielovemonth #day 20

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florsial · 1 month ago

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Hi hi! Something has been eating away at my brain and i think it’s your cup of tea so who do you relate the pureblood brother duos to in media or in history? For example famous brothers like cain and abel or the grimm brothers etc etc i would LOVE to know what you think

That’s all<3

Admittedly I don’t consume as much media with siblings as I actually do lol. I’m sorry 😭 (the Orestia has been on the back burner and I just can’t see anyone as Antigone)

Sirius and Regulus relationship might come off as controversial so if it’s not ur cup of tea dw I won’t make u drink it <3

Anyways, I see Regulus and Sirius as Hansel and Gretel. The way their relationship (taking account that I see Regulus as ftm), their relationship is heavily gendered with a power imbalance. The best way I can describe is this (curtesy of @deathnguts):

(Best thing I’ve seen all day actually)

Sirius is given the power over Regulus as the eldest son of a Chinese family in a culture where the son is the carry the family name and thus, preferred. He has to power to hurt or care for Regulus and I see it as he does both but can’t tell the difference/isn’t taught the difference until he meets James (which where Regulus gains the upper hand).

This is where Hansel and Gretel come in. Hansel in the story, like Sirius, takes charge, comforts, and leads and is the main reason why the siblings were able to get home the first two times. Then like Regulus, Gretel strikes last (shoving the witch in the oven). I find it a neat comparison, Sirius strikes first and then Regulus does (Sirius fights back against his parents and beliefs first and then Regulus turns his back on the Dark Lord last). And the two return home (afterlife).

At worst, I can see them as Helaena and Aegon Targaryen, not the marriage part obviously, just the overall dynamic of an annoying and rude older brother who still cares but just doesn’t know how and his younger and in-their-own-head sibling. (Cue scene of Aegon calling Helaena an “enduring mystery” in front of all the servants, it’s a sweet thing to call someone but he does it in a teasing/making fun manner). But I see it as it being when they are younger. I def think that the closer Sirius approaches running away, Regulus has a more emotional hold over him. Because Sirius feels terrible for their power imbalance and starts to view Regulus as equal while Regulus strictly adheres to the cultural values that they were brought up with.

That’s my version of them. The wider, more accepted version of them is basically Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian from mdzs copy and pasted onto a bunch of French white boys (NOT MY SIRIUS AND REGULUS) (/j)

And a funnier association if Tybalt (Regulus) and Sirius (Juliet). I won’t get into that but it’s meant to be funny I swear.

Not brothers but the Rosier twins. @/juniperpyre has once commented that my Rosier twins seem like a medical version of the twins from the Secret History, but I’ve never read that book. In fact, the Rosier twins were taken from Sam and Eric from the Lord of the Flies. Throughout the book, Sam and Eric experience a transition from Sam and Eric to “Samneric”, basically becoming one and that’s where my version of the Rosier twins from. (Plus med stuff)

Xeno and Lucius are who I associate with Cain and Abel. God (their parents) favor Abel (Xeno) over Cain (Lucius), Cain retaliates (Imprisons Luna and is a Death Eater/associated with a group who was willing to kill his family while he got away). Lucius is character I see as a calm facade with jealousy, envy, anger, dirty ambition, and perpetual hunger simmering under his skin and I think that contrasted with Xeno kinda makes them a neat parallel to Cain and Abel (if that makes sense?). Xeno is clearly favored (as the second son by his mother and as the carefree son by his father). And it’s also neat that Cain is older than Abel (Lucius is older than Xeno).

The Lestrange Brothers are their own mess and once again, I don’t know enough media to associated them with anyone.

#I clearly have a favorite….#LET NO ONE FORGET I AM A BLACK FAMILY ENTHUSIAST FIRST AND HUMAN SECOND #I swear I love the Lestrange brothers but I do not get into fandoms as much lol #ivan gets the mail #the black brothers #lestrange brothers #the rosier twins #lucius malfoy #xenophilius malfoy #regulus black #sirius black #rodolphus lestrange #rabastan lestrange #marauders era #trans regulus black #trans regulus

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ukulelevillainwrites · 1 year ago

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who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 6.7k

warnings : language ig?

content : a lot more plot, i'm settling all the elements i need to move forward and write pt8 (which i've been fantasizing and imagining since day 1 lol), reader meets Lucy and the gang finally has a plan

taglist : i've lost track lol @demigoddess-of-ghosts @cassiopeiia24 @archiveoftara

note : again i'm sorry this took so long, the weeks keep getting busier and the time flies by faster and i got hit with writer's block too at some point i think idk but i'm on vacation in three weeks and it should help (i hope) anyway i hope you enjoy :)

She didn’t know if she was still dreaming or not when she heard hurried footsteps climbing the stairs. She could hardly move and even though her eyes were open, all she could see were blurry shadows and the greenish light from the ghost lamp outside. For a moment she thought the voice she heard calling her name was her mind still playing tricks on her but the hands that grabbed hers were definitely real and convinced her she was awake. Someone turned on the light, blinding her. She blinked to see Lockwood sitting next to her on her bed, clutching her hands and asking if she was okay. George entered the room practically running, holding a rapier he must have taken just in case.

“We heard you screaming, what happened?” He asked, seemingly out of breath.

“I-I uh… um” She cleared her throat. “I gotta…”

She made a move to get out of bed.

“Come, we’ll make you some tea.”

George helped her up. Lockwood didn’t let go of her hand until she was out of reach with a concerned look on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just kept his gaze fixated on her.

George supported her down the stairs, though she didn’t really need it. But she felt bad that she woke them up, so she let him. Lockwood was in front of them, looking back every once in a while, to make sure she was okay. She must have really scared them to have them acting this way. Or they cared more about her than she realized.

They got down to the kitchen and Lockwood put the kettle on. George brought a blanket from the library to cover her, but she was still sweating from her dream and needed fresh air more than anything.

“So…” George started as he settled into the chair next to her.

“I had a nightmare.”

“Yes, we gathered that much…” Lockwood spoke for the first time in a while. His voice was hoarse, his tone serious. She would have felt like she was being reprimanded if his eyes hadn’t been so filled with worry. It made her want to apologize profusely.

“Though it sounded like you were getting murdered.” George added.

A heavy silence fell over the room. The two boys stared at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

“I tend to have intense dreams.” y/n finally said. “It doesn’t happen every time, but they can be very realistic. And that girl… I keep seeing her, but she never screamed at me like that.” She looked into her cup, images of the girl screaming at her flashing before her eyes.

“What girl?”

“I keep seeing this girl, she’s always telling me to find her and to look for her but I never know what she means. To be honest I had forgotten about her. But tonight, she just screamed at me, it was so loud you have no idea!”

“Actually, we sort of have an idea…” George said, burying his head between his arms. He looked like he was about to fall back asleep.

“I didn’t know I was actually screaming I’m sorry…”

“That girl screaming at you was all it took to wake us up in the middle of the night?” He mumbled.

“It’s not just that, I was in this haunted warehouse with agents attempting to clear it, the case went wrong, horribly wrong it was awful. I couldn’t move, I tried to help but I couldn’t do anything, I just stood there and watched.”

“Do you know who she is?” Lockwood asked. It looked like her story had piqued his interest.

“I have no idea… and I don’t know why I need to find her…”

“Maybe it’s just a dream, it doesn’t have to be a premonition. Don’t overthink it.”

“That way we could go back to sleep...” George said, his eyes now closed.

“You should go back to bed, I’m fine really. Thanks for the tea. And for checking up on me. That was sweet of you.”

They both gave her a warm smile. It made her feel even more guilty that she woke them up.

“George really you should get upstairs, you’re barely awake.”

He made a poor attempt at a protest but soon gave up and went back to his room. Lockwood was yawning too.

“You should go too, I’ll go back to the attic in a bit.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Lockwood really I’m fine.”

“I don’t care I’m staying until you get back to sleep.”

She settled back into her chair, sipping her tea in silence. Lockwood was standing against the countertop, doing the same thing. She put her cup back onto the Thinking Cloth and tried to bring up her legs closer to her chest. The chair was too small and she bumped her knee into the table.

Lockwood took her mug and left the room without a word. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow him or if that was retribution for waking everyone up. She did anyway and found him in the library. He was settled on the couch, both their mugs resting on the coffee table beside it. She sat next to him and brought her legs up next to her, drawing her closer to him. She draped a blanket over her and took back her cup. Even though she was comfortable, her mind still hadn’t calmed down. She kept seeing images from her nightmare, the girl’s face screaming at her, the heavy doors closing on her teammates, sealing their fate. She was glad Lockwood stayed with her, his presence was comforting.

She finished her tea and put her mug down on the table.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks.” She said, sleepy-eyed.

“You should go back to bed, we have a lot to discuss tomorrow”

She stared at him wondering what he meant.

“Now that we’re officially involved in this whole Dufour mess we need to see how we’re going to clean it up.”

“Oh, right.”

“You look half asleep already, I’ll help you get back to the attic if you want.”

“No, don’t. I want to stay here, I don’t think I’d be able to fall back asleep in my room tonight.”

“Alright.” He hesitated. “I could… read to you if you’d like. It always helped me when I had nightmares as a kid.”

“I’m not a child!”

He was already picking a book from the bookshelf on the wall opposite the fireplace. He came back to settle next to her, bringing her closer and settling her head against his chest.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned with you it’s that sometimes it’s nice to have someone looking out for you.”

“Oh really?” She teased, but she was too exhausted to really give him a hard time.

“You have to ask for help sometimes.”

“Says the guy who couldn’t ask someone to tie his tie for him.”

He nudged her leg with his foot with a laugh. She settled against his chest to get more comfortable and when she finally stopped moving, he started reading in a low voice. The monotonous tone he kept rocked her to sleep. His arms kept her warm. She could feel his steady heartbeat beneath her fingers. She nodded off almost immediately.

When she woke up, the sun was already high, bathing the room in a soft glow. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling an even breath in her hair. Lockwood was still asleep, looking much more peaceful than she had ever seen him. His arms were wrapped around her, keeping her warm. It was more comfortable than the time she woke up with George on the other side of the sofa, probably because this time she was cuddling with her bedmate and not trying to share a couch too small for the both of them. It ended up being a relaxing night after all, the waking up part making up for the nightmare. They were breathing in unison, fitting perfectly in the tight space of the sofa. Her mind was still blurry, she wanted to fall asleep once more to stay in the peaceful state she was just in. She snuggled closer, her face in the crook of his neck as she hugged him tighter, when she realized what she was doing. She was hugging Lockwood, and he had his arms around her. And for the briefest moment she felt like he was hugging her back. Suddenly it all felt wrong. They were colleagues. He was her employer. And landlord. They had a job to do together. During her time at Fittes she never let herself get too close to her teammates, at least not that way. It had happened once or twice that she found herself attracted to one of her colleagues, but she always kept her distance, thinking of the disaster that could have happened if she had let her feelings take over. And yet here she was throwing caution to the wind and allowing herself to get closer than she had been with anyone in a long time. As hard as it was, she pulled away slowly, trying to get up without waking him. She could’ve sworn she felt him holding on to her, trying to pull her back, but once she was on her feet she saw him turn on his side, still asleep. Her imagination was playing tricks on her, giving her false hopes. She covered him with the blanket she had last night, studying his relaxed features. It was unfair how good he looked when he was sleeping. She forced herself to get into the kitchen before George could catch her staring.

It was a close call since he came down as the water started boiling in the kettle. He looked more awake than he had earlier. It eased her guilt knowing he had managed to get some rest.

“I didn’t hear you come up last night.” George remarked as he poured himself a cup.

“After I woke you up in the middle of the night I thought you’d be grateful for that.”

“I’m not complaining I’m just wondering if you got any sleep after that.”

“I did.” She smiled without adding anything, sipping her tea in silence.

“I didn’t hear Lockwood either.” He said innocently while stirring his tea. He didn’t sound like he was simply checking up on her anymore. His voice had an edge with the slightest hint of insinuation.

“You were so exhausted you could barely stand. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had slept through one of us falling down the stairs from the attic to the ground floor without opening an eye.”

“Actually, I had a hard time falling back asleep.” He took a sip looking up at the ceiling.

She didn’t answer. Whatever she could have said would have led to more teasing anyway. She blushed. He just smiled before offering her a biscuit. She didn’t get why he reacted that way. He was looking at her like she had something to hide. But he had fallen asleep with her on that same couch and it certainly hadn’t meant anything! Though, if she was honest with herself she was just annoyed that he could read her like an open book. She took a biscuit out of the box he was handing her, avoiding his knowing eyes and proud smirk.

“I’m guessing things are better between you two then…”

“I came up last night to tell you so, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before she could throw the nearest dish towel at him Lockwood came in. An awkward silence fell over the room. At least y/n felt the tension. Lockwood didn’t seem to notice and George was back to pretending like his biscuit was the most important thing in the world. He was right of course, things really were better between them. So much better that she wished she could wake up this way every morning.

She didn’t let herself think about it. Nothing good could come of this. Except of course the comfort she felt when she was in his arms, the butterflies in her stomach that danced to the song playing in her mind whenever he looked at her. She froze. She needed to clear her head and started to walk out of the kitchen. Maybe taking a shower and getting ready for the day would help.

When she came back down, she could hear the boys arguing. The debate didn’t sound heated, so they were probably discussing an upcoming case.

“I’m telling you it’s far more logical to do it this way!”

“You never listen to what I have to say!”

She pushed the door open.

“What’s this all about?”

“Ah, y/n I’m glad you’re back.” Lockwood said, walking towards her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I keep telling George that we should focus on discovering who is at the head of the whole relic operation but he won’t listen.”

“You’re the one not listening! We don’t know enough about the operation to aim so high right away.”

He slid his hand down to her arm. “What do you think?”

His touch was enough to make her mind go blank. “I- um... you’re catching me off guard. Could you walk me through it?”

“Well, I think that focusing on Dufour isn’t useful anymore. Since we know she isn’t in charge we should let her be and focus on whoever is behind this.”

“And I think we could still learn a lot from what she does and follow her.”

“Those are both… good points…” She was still very aware of Lockwood’s hand resting on her arm. She wasn’t used to this. He had been distant most of the time those past few weeks and the sudden change really disturbed her.

“Well, I know I’m right!”

“And I am too! You’d see that if you weren’t so stubborn.”

It really was the pot calling the kettle black. She tried not to laugh at their argument as she crossed her arms, not so subtly removing Lockwood’s hand form her arm.

“You should just go your separate ways then, meet up later today to debrief the info you both get?”

“Yes, I guess we could do that.” They both nodded. “What do you do then, y/n?” Lockwood asked her, crossing his arms.

“I’ll go with George!” She said, realizing it came out a little too loud. Lockwood shot her a confused glance. “I’m just… curious to see what she’s up to… is all.” She tried to justify.

Lockwood briefly frowned before approving their plan, telling them they should meet back at the house at 4pm.

---

“You jumped awfully fast at the chance to come with me on this stake out.” George commented.

“I’m always excited at the thought of working with you Georgie!”

He rolled his eyes at her. She wasn’t being subtle, and he let her know it.

“Plus, I’m genuinely curious to see what this bitch is up to.”

That got a laugh out of him.

They were heading towards the Fittes building to see if maybe they could spot their nemesis stepping out to run one of her fraudulent errands. As they got closer to their old employer’s offices, she noticed familiar faces. She spotted several agents she used to see down Fittes corridors. As they crossed the road, she passed a guy who used to be on her team. She waved politely but was met with a dark stare. She couldn’t remember anything she could have done to upset him, then realized it was probably the aftermath of that offensive column. Her pace quickened, fueled once more by anger. She was determined to see what that horrible woman was up to and most importantly to find out how to bring her down. She was so furious she could have just walked into her office to strangle her. Hopefully George grabbed her arm and led her down a street far enough to remain unseen. He kneeled down to get out a hat and a pair of sunglasses out of his bag.

“Put these on, we don’t want Dufour to recognize us.”

“What are these eggs for?” She asked as she tried on the sunglasses.

“They might come in handy if we spot her car!”

It would have been a great relief, but she didn’t have time to appreciate the mental image she got. Dufour was getting out of the Fittes building across the street, seemingly in a hurry, carrying a large duffel bag. And so, the stake out began.

They tried to keep enough distance to remain discreet and followed her for the next hour. They weren’t sure that following her would lead them somewhere useful or if they would learn anything new. The fact that their old supervisor kept walking without stopping didn’t help. y/n even started to think that she didn’t have a destination at all and was just messing with them. That was until they reached an imposing building located near Clerkenwell Road. As Dufour got closer to the glass doors at the entrance, she looked around as if to make sure no one saw her go in. y/n and George had to hide several times behind cars or newspaper stands to avoid getting caught. The first time she turned around y/n felt her heart sink as she pulled George down with her, crouching behind a parked car. But it was a good sign, it probably meant that she had something to hide. They remained far from the building to remain unseen. George eagerly wrote down the address in his notebook. She could tell how pleased he was with their discovery before he even turned to congratulate his plan, his smile getting wider with every letter he wrote. They waited for her to come back out. She took her time. When she finally emerged from the building an hour later, she didn’t carry the bag anymore. Whatever was in it had to be valuable. Dufour started walking back the way she had come. They ducked and slowly entered the nearest café.

Since it was only 2 and they were starving, they decided to take a break, unable to come back out without being seen anyway. They settled at a table far from the window. They ordered tea and some pastries to share and discussed different theories, trying to figure out what the woman could be up to.

“Given her track record it’s fair to assume that her bag had sources in it right?”

“I’m surprised Fittes didn’t bat an eyelash since she started her operation. I mean she can’t be that subtle…” His eyes lit up. “What if Fittes was involved?”

“Maybe…” She didn’t want to bring down his enthusiasm but she was already picturing him getting way too far from the matter at hand. “Let’s focus on bringing her down for now. If you’re still mad at Fittes after that we’ll see what we can do.” She said with a laugh.

“Right. Then we should try to see what this building is.”

“It’s the Silverpoint Organization building!” said a voice behind her that made her jump.

“Norrie? What are you doing here?”

“Hey George! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I came to see my girlfriend, she just started her shift. But then I saw you two and I knew you had to be discussing something interesting given all the rumors these past few days… I couldn’t resist.”

“Actually, you could help us a lot!”

y/n greeted the girl as she sat down next to her. The last time she had seen them was at the furnaces. Apparently, the chat she had with George that night inspired her to do some investigating of her own. She had paid closer attention to the weird things she had noticed and caught a guy stealing a source red-handed. Not only did she get the source back to burn it but she also managed to get some information out of him. y/n was really impressed.

“So, I made him understand that he’d better tell me what he wanted to do with the source. That’s when he told me he was to bring it to this building across the street. I dug a little further and turns out it’s the Silverpoint Organization, whatever that is.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” George said while scribbling in his notebook. She didn’t think his smile could get any wider and yet it did.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were passing by!” called a voice behind them.

Norrie turned around to greet her girlfriend. The girl sat in front of her, saying something about having some time before the beginning of her shift. She had short wavy hair, auburn color, almond brown eyes. Her face was round and delicate. She looked friendly, but the warmth of her smile wasn’t enough to keep y/n from freezing. After all, that girl had woken her up in the middle of the night screaming just a few hours ago.

---

“And that’s why we should go after the money trail.”

Lockwood had been talking nonstop since he had walked through the door. He didn’t notice the heavy silence filling the living room. Or the haunted expression on y/n’s face.

“So, you somehow got your hands on an envelope supposedly used by that old man, who you think runs the operation, to pay a relic man who, again supposedly, brought him sources and that’s enough to convince you that you have a proof of the transactions?” George’s eyebrows were furrowed. Confusion filled his stare and his mouth was slightly agape. He looked baffled and not in a good way.

“That’s not all I found, didn’t you listen to what I just said?” Lockwood retorted, unfazed and still so sure of himself. “I have a reliable source telling me that they saw the guy take the money out of the envelope and it also has a strange code on it that has to link him back to wherever the money’s from. There must be a record of it somewhere. They wouldn’t bother writing such a long code on an envelope that gets left in the street if it didn’t have a purpose.”

“And you think this maze is worth getting lost in?”

“We won’t get lost! Like I told you I have contacts to help us out!”

“With relic men transactions? I’d love to meet them.” George still didn’t seem convinced.

“So, what do you think?” Lockwood asked with a triumphant smile, ignoring his friend’s objections.

“You don’t even care a little about what we discovered?”

He looked around the room, finally conceding them a glance. His smile fell as he looked into her eyes.

“What happened?”

It was George’s turn to talk restlessly about their day. Y/n looked at their exchange back and forth and listened to George tell Lockwood all about their successful stake out and their encounter with Norrie. There were times where she couldn’t focus on what they were saying, too caught up in the strange feeling that had followed her all the way home. Lucy had been lovely and tried to make her feel at ease even though y/n had stared at her like a deer caught in headlights for the better part of five minutes. They exchanged a few words about adapting to life in London and leaving agency work behind, though only partly for Norrie who wanted to do her best to help even without being back in the field. They never mentioned the incident that had led them here, just that they had left agency work. y/n knew why the girls had decided to change their lifestyle but nodded and smiled without ever referencing her dreams. She thought it would probably freak them out plus she didn’t want to bring up the horrible event that probably traumatized them in the first place. She tried to focus back on George’s explanations. He was excited to start researching the Silverpoint Organization. It was obvious that Lockwood was frustrated that his idea hadn’t gotten the attention he thought it would have. He sat back to let George talk with a barely hidden exasperated look on his face. But when he locked eyes with her his face slightly softened, allowing George to finish his theory.

“You’re awfully silent, y/n.” Lockwood said as he came to sit down next to her on the couch.

“We met Lucy today.”

She was met with a questioning stare.

“The girl from my dream.”

This triggered more frowning.

“As it turns out Norrie’s girlfriend Lucy is also the girl who woke me up screaming.”

George was still scribbling in his notebook. Lockwood didn’t say a word.

“I don’t really get it either. Hence the silence.”

He grabbed her hand in both of his. He was gentle, like her bones would break if he made any sudden movements.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think there’s a lot to talk about for now.” She said gently. She still didn’t know what to do with this and didn’t want to burden anyone. “But thank you…” She took back her hand, smoothed down her skirt and sat back, coincidently distancing herself from him. “How about we just get back to Dufour?”

“Right…” He flexed his hand while looking down. He looked back at her, his usual smirk curving his lips. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

“Remind me when you let go of your rivalry with Kipps?”

He smiled, pausing for a second. There was a complicity in the look they shared. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered their wings. She pushed the feeling down as much as she could, trying to win their staring match without blushing. She failed, obviously. Lockwood got up with a satisfied look on his face.

“So, what should we do? I mean… I think my lead is pretty solid…” He said looking up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s not. It’s numbers on a torn envelope Lockwood!” George retorted.

“What do you think y/n?”

“When it comes to instinct, you told me to always listen to George and I followed that rule religiously since I joined the agency.”

“Like following the rules is going to help us with your revenge plan…” He rolled his eyes. But he didn’t look offended or disappointed. He looked…proud?

“But fine it’s two against one anyway and I’m a fair leader. We’ll start with this organization and see what we find.”

George didn’t need more. He rushed back to his room, slamming the door with a renewed determination. They probably wouldn’t see him again until dinner. A silence fell over the room. Her mind wandered, going back to the girl haunting her nights. She had asked her to find her and she had. Now what? She didn’t feel relieved, and meeting that girl hadn’t felt like she was fulfilling some prophecy, accomplishing her fate in a high-pressure decisive moment. What if she had been too late? What if from the start she was supposed to help Lucy save her team? Maybe she was cursed with the guilt she had felt in her nightmare, forever unable to sleep soundly again.

A hand resting on her wrist brought her back to reality. Lockwood had sat back down next to her and was stroking his thumb back and forth on her skin in a soothing way.

“We’ll work it out.” He reassured her. “The answer could be in the extensive research George will make us do.” She looked at him unconvinced, but she appreciated his effort to make her feel better.

“He’s not gonna let us rest, is he?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“On the bright side, if I’m exhausted it might keep my mind off this.”

He held her hand tighter before letting go. She almost reached for his arm to get him to sit back down next to her. As he told her to get some rest before the busy day awaiting them, she ran back upstairs, her wrist still tingly.

The week that followed was in fact a busy one. They followed a strict schedule of intense research, rigorous preparation of their cases and efficient ghost clearing. The military-like organization was all George of course. He took the habit of waking them at 7:30 sharp by knocking repeatedly on their door until they were up to tell him to stop. They were among the first people present at the archives. Each day George assigned articles and newspaper respectively to Lockwood and her while he worked on the case they had that night. At noon they would switch, George looking over their research while they got familiar with the case before heading home to prep their bags for the evening. It was exhausting but she had to admit that it was yielding results. In just a week they had uncovered detailed information about the organization, how it was founded, who it was founded by, and why it was created in the first place. George had summed up the information both in their casebook and on the Thinking Cloth. Every morning as she drank her cup of tea she could read:

“Silverpoint organization – 1996 – founder Theodor Mullet of Mullet & Sons

TM eldest son and heir to M&S, created Sp Org to “further his father’s legacy” and protect agents against field injuries unrelated to ghost-lock

One fundraiser organized each year

Strong link to M&S rapier supplier

Funds from Fittes?

No financial records or official information available”

She couldn’t help feeling insulted that she slept so little only for their hard work to be summed up in a few lines. She didn’t complain however, at least she had helped find some of this information. Lockwood on the other hand was out of his depth. Research had never been the part he excelled at. He was too impatient and couldn’t sit still. By default, George took the lead but y/n could feel Lockwood’s pride taking a hit. If George, resident researcher of 35 Portland Row, was now in charge, what good was he? He tried his best to remain helpful by offering theories of his own. He kept insisting that the lack of financial records was suspicious and that his hunch was right. Of course, he did so without an ounce of pettiness and repeated that they should have listened to him from the start. y/n had a hard time believing him. His frustration started to show and it affected his work. During cases at night, he was bolder, trying to show off. At one point they were fending off a visitor which could have been easily handled at two while George looked for the source yet he picked this time to demonstrate the new move he had been practicing all day. The night had ended with a rush to the hospital and three stitches.

Today was a close call too. He had jumped down a flight of stairs to get between her and a visitor. She thought he probably had good intentions but she had her rapier ready and the situation was under control. It was a relief to see he didn’t break anything, a miracle frankly. She didn’t need a third time to decide to act. She would talk to George in the morning to convince him to spend some time looking into Lockwood’s lead.

They came back home exhausted, George going to bed immediately to stick to his schedule. She was about to do the same when she noticed the light was on in the library. She wasn’t surprised to see Lockwood sitting there with one of his magazines in his lap, acting like the day had no effect on him. He simply smiled at her when she entered and kept reading. She told him that he should rest. He simply hummed in agreement but didn’t move except to turn the page. She was about to give up and leave him there when he bolted up to show her the page he was on. It was a double page ad for an open-door day at Mullet&Sons, inviting clients to try their new line of rapiers and meet the board. The perfect occasion to get closer and hopefully find out more about the founder of the Silverpoint Organization. A light brightened his eyes as he smiled at her. She was certain he wouldn’t shut up about his finding.

A call the next day brought their enthusiasm back down. Right before they left for the Archives, Inspector Barnes had called. Lockwood had answered. His smile had faltered as the conversation went on. He hung up and stayed silent until George asked him what he wanted. Apparently, the inspector had called to warn them again. Only this time the threat had become much more real. Superiors at DEPRAC had taken an interest in the complaints against them, mostly to get Fittes off their back Lockwood thought. But it didn’t matter why, what mattered was that the ridiculous rehabilitation program offered by an unqualified journalist was getting more consideration than originally thought. One mishap would turn y/n and George into the first test subjects of this “educational” experiment. They were now under more surveillance than before. Sneaking into Mullet&Sons offices during their next event was out of the question, they’d be the first accused.

They stood in the hallway in silence, unsure what to do next. Researching more at the Archives seemed futile now.

“I might have an idea.” Lockwood said.

They looked up at him expectantly.

“We go after the financial records.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Lockwood.” George swore. She understood his frustration. Being right didn’t matter now, and this was really not the time. Plus, stealing financial records wasn’t much better to remain far from suspicions.

“Lockwood…” She looked up at him. “We don’t have a way to do that legally and we’ll be the first interrogated. How could we even give evidence to DEPRAC, if we ever find any?”

“We get ourselves an airtight alibi.” He said proudly, like it was obvious.

They stared at him with a beaten expression, still not knowing what he had in mind. He went to the library and came back with the magazine he was reading last night. He eagerly handed it to them, open on a page featuring one of those fancy parties that took place occasionally. Though it wasn’t just any party, it was a fundraiser for the Silverpoint Organization. The next fundraiser was taking place next week and for the occasion an article was referencing last year’s event.

“We get into this party, make sure that everyone sees us and hopefully get some information about Theodor while talking to the guests.”

“But what about the records?”

“We’ll need some extra help.” He said before winking at her.

---

“By getting traces of the transactions between the organization and relic-men we can bring down the operation. And for that we need your help.”

Lockwood was back to his usual self. Charming, self-assured and most importantly in charge. The two girls in front of him had very different reactions. Norrie seemed to have made up her mind already, looking over at George every once in a while like she was in a hurry to get to work. Lucy was more skeptical. She looked like she was battling conflicted emotions. y/n didn’t blame her. They barely knew each other and they were asking her to steal financial records. They had just given up on a whole life, trying to adapt and they should throw all that away to help people they had just met? It was madness and y/n felt bad for asking them such a thing. But she didn’t really have a choice. Aside from them, there weren’t a lot of candidates.

After his whole speech, Lockwood sat in front of them, determination piercing through his eyes. He quirked his lips up in the slightest. She knew all too well this intense stare and irresistible smile. She hadn’t managed to turn him down, not many could. He spoke in a softer voice to try and convince Lucy to join their cause. And it was working, she was considering it. She said she needed time to think it over. But Lockwood wasn’t usually patient. y/n knew what would come next. A compassionate and understanding tirade so sincere you couldn’t help but join his side. But she knew what Lucy had been through, she was there sort of. Not ten seconds after Lockwood had started speaking again she interrupted.

“Lockwood stop.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Don’t do this, just give her some time to think it over.”

“We don’t have a lot of time y/n!” He turned back to Lucy. “And as much as I understand the difficult position this puts you in-”

“Just shut up Lockwood!”

George sighed and buried his head in his hands. Norrie asked him what was wrong.

“They had just started to get along!”

y/n ignored his comments.

“Lucy, I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. I completely understand if you don’t want to join us and stay far away from anything agency related. I just think that we can trust you and we desperately need allies right now. We don’t need a definitive answer now, but do you think you could give it some thought… maybe?”

Lucy looked up at her with a softness in her gaze. She was scarred, that much was clear. She seemed afraid too. But there was much more than that. There was resilience and bravery. An ember in the ashes.

“I’ll think about it.” She said with a thin smile. They exchanged a glance that was enough to make y/n feel a deep connection to the girl. She reached for Norrie’s hand as they exited the room. There was so much more she wanted to say to her. She wanted to tell her about her dreams, about the relief she felt now that she got to know her. The platonic attraction she felt was overwhelming. She had never wanted to be friends with someone so ardently. There was something special about her. She didn’t know if it was El’s betrayal that left a scar or if her dreams were a sign of a deeper bond, but she desperately wanted to find out. She led them back in the hall and slowly closed the door behind them.

She turned to find Lockwood staring at her with a hurt look on his face.

“What the hell was that?”

“I’m… sorry…”

“I’ve been jumping through hoops with you since I met you and I’m getting tired of it.”

Her heart sank.

“Yeah, that’s fair. In my defense, I knew what you were doing and I couldn’t in good conscience let you go through with it.”

“What was I doing?”

“Faking compassion to get what you want.”

“Oh please, not that again. I was just trying to get the help we need. We’re in this mess because of you need I remind you.”

“Lucy’s been through a lot and she deserves genuine sympathy, not some fake act you put on every time we have a difficult client. I still have nightmares about what happened to them, you can’t imagine how it feels.”

“I can actually.”

There was a silence. He looked deeply hurt. She didn’t dare speak, knowing the matter was probably more sensitive than she realized.

“I’m doing everything I can to help you and I need you to be more cooperative. I’m not risking the reputation of my company if this is the thanks I get.”

“You’re right…” She said after a moment. “I went too far.”

He nodded. They stood in silence, neither of them daring to move.

“Just don’t be mean to me again.”

“I won’t.”

He turned to enter the kitchen.

“I wasn’t really mean though…” She said on a hesitant tone. “I was rude sure. But mean… Kipps is mean. He degrades you and all…” She didn’t even know why she said that. A desperate attempt at lightening the mood, giving Lockwood a reason to redirect his anger at someone else. It was pathetic. She could already see herself unable to sleep months from now living the shame of this moment all over again.

“Oh, so you agree with me now?” He answered turning around. “When did you take the “best leader of the best team” off his pedestal?”

She smiled.

“You’re still a bigger prick than he is though.”

He smiled back.

“Tea?”

#who follows the rules anyway #ukuwrites #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #lockwood and co imagine #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #george karim #lucy carlyle #norrie white

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romatique · 1 year ago

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˚₊‧ ꒰ choi san's ideal type ꒱ ‧₊˚

gif by @bblsan

updated september 2023.

hello! i'm lina, your new ateez tarot reader. i decided to make my first post about san since i connect with him easily, so i hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback too <3

(this is tarot based and for entertainment purposes only. all alleged and shouldn't be taken as 100% truth).

am i allowed to share this? the fool; "sure, go ahead."

01┆physical appearance (the hanged man rx, the chariot, the emperor rx, king of wands rx)

when i tell you my cards literally FLEW. he's pretty much into anything and everything, just like he's said in the past. still, since this is the idealization of a person, here's what i got:

i'm getting a lot of mysterious vibes. like watery traits. san's very open minded and he likes people that dress differently. someone who stands out in the crowd. maybe an alternative style? could be even a person who dresses like they're from another decade. a LOT of presence. athletic slim shape but body positive towards everyone. uses strong and dark colors. red lipstick. deep eyes. he said "androgynous", so i believe someone who balances out what we, as a society, call "feminine" and "masculine" fashion. or maybe it's just the fact he doesn't mind what that person looks like at all. also very out there but still deep.

star signs energy: aquarius or capricorn venus and scorpio mars/moon.

02┆emotional traits (the moon, the empress, death, knight of pentacles rx)

you see, san's been going through a private time, so this is definitely an introverted person. it is important to understand how his energy also affects the type of person he's into.

emotional. mess. but this person is such a control freak, so as much intense as they can be, they won't let it show easily. they've had a pretty intense past and has a hard time letting go of it, even if they don't know it yet ("i can't let go of what happened"). worried about social status. money is an important subject here. mother-like nature: kind, giving and caring. but still demands so much respect. like they wanna be seen as someone bigger. as fragile as this person is, they wanna have a good and strong reputation.

also, we're definitely talking about an artist.

song i heard: butterfly - bts.

star signs energy: cancer sun/saturn, capricorn mars, scorpio mercury.

03┆career (king of wands, lovers, page of cups, page of wands rx)

proactive. "makes a lot of money". leader position. really controlling. could be a lead role actress/actor or a film director. artist. passionate about their job. "do what you love, love what you do". flies around a lot so probably someone with a big influence. busy life but definitely creative. i can also picture drawing as a hobby here.

is this person an idol? (page of cups rx).

no. "i don't wanna cause drama in the industry."

star signs energy: capricorn or pisces midheaven.

#ateez #tarot #ateez tarot #san tarot #choi san #san ateez #san #choi san tarot #tarot reading #ateez ideal type #Spotify

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coupleoffanfics · 1 year ago

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Two Are Better Than One

CW: Mentions of suicidal ideation.

Part 1 | Part 2

Half of the day y/n was left alone. She was given a few books to read, but she didn't bother touching them. She would have thrown them at whoever came through the door. It didn't matter if it was Jeremiah or Ecco, just as long as it hurt. But that wouldn't be the best thing to do. You can catch more flies with honey as they say.

She believed that they could still talk this out. If they hear each other out then they could move on from this. They moved on from a lot of things and this could be one of them. She didn't care how delusional it sounded, she was always in it for the long hall when Jeremiah was involved.

Reverting to her old ways y/n slept her worries away. Whenever things become too much she always rolled into bed and slept. It wasn't easy to sleep this time with her one hand being cuffed but she managed somehow.

She would be woken up by Jeremiah. "It's time to take your medicine." She slightly grimaced when she opened her eyes but sat up and gave him a confused look. "Ecco took everything you needed from your apartment." He explained as he handed her the glass of water.

It would have been so easy for y/n to throw it at him or just smash it against his forehead until it broke. It would be easy, but it'd only get her into trouble.

"Open wide." y/n felt her face heat up hearing him say that. This felt a bit humiliating and he must have found it amusing by the grin on his face. Not wanting to be perceived as reluctant or defiant, she opened her mouth so that he put the pill in her mouth. After that, she closed her mouth and took a sip of the water.

She almost choked on the water when she made eye contact with him. His eyes were one of the many things she liked about him. A simple glance made her flustered, and when his eyes were on her it made her squirm. He still has the effect but it didn't make her squirm or giggle like it used to. It could be because of the context of this situation, but his now-green eyes always put her off.

She took her medication without too much trouble. She said a quiet thank you before holding the cup out to him trying to hand it back. "You have one more pill to take."

"Another one? I only take Zoloft."

"I know, darling, but you have to take this."

y/n was taken aback a bit by the pet name. She was always the one to call him a pet name. Sometimes just to embarrass him, but he'd always just call her by her name. She quickly shook that out of her head to ask, "What is it?"

"ACE."

Angiotensin-converting enzyme, y/n remembers her doctor recommending it. She denied it along with any other medication recommended for her heart failure because she wanted to die faster.

She didn't want to prolong the inevitable. She didn't want to feel hopeless and numb anymore. She didn't want to watch the only person in her life devolve into madness. She didn't want to wake up the next morning.

Jeremiah must have known exactly what y/n was thinking too. He gave her a hard look and he dropped his grin after telling her the name of it. He wonders what she'd say or do while he watches the flash of realization appear on her.

It was interesting because Jeremiah didn't know what route she'd take. This morning showed her defiance, but aggressiveness wasn't in her nature. He knew she wasn't the smartest person at times, yet she knew there wasn't a freedom of choice. How she reacts will determine how restricted things will be. Even then he can't always predict what she'll do regardless of their years of being together and how she'd tell him just about every little thing.

But he doubts that she'd openly tell him she wanted to kill herself faster. Of course, he knows her history of mental instability. He's watched her fall into those depressive lows multiple times. Suicide was a different story. Anything about suicide or even self-harm is off the table of discussion for y/n. It was least off the table when having casual conversations.

Suddenly y/n opened her mouth much to Jeremiah's delight. Silently complying. Once she had successfully taken the ACE, he lightly patted her cheek, "Good girl." He watched as her face contorted into embarrassment for a moment. He knew he had power over her, but he didn't know how much until now. It was like their roles had been reversed.

y/n slightly moved her head to the right as if that would stop him from touching her face. "Miah, honey," She started with an anxious smile, "Why do feel like you have to do this?" Right after the question came out of her mouth he raised an eyebrow and slightly squinted his eyes. She felt her mouth go dry as she was scrambling to explain, "I mean, I understand what you mean when you explained earlier. I think we could compromise."

Jeremiah slowly spoke while holding back a laugh, "Compromise? You want to compromise with me?" Her lips moved to the left and she slightly pounded. She was being serious. He bit down on his tongue so a laugh couldn't escape. Quickly inhaling and exhaling, he asked her to continue.

Still full of hope, or what could be called delusion, y/n spoke of different ideas. That's maybe he could still take that blood sample or not at all. She'll never doubt or bring up her past concern about his sanity. In each idea, she promised not to leave the bunker. Jeremiah would be lying if he said her ideas weren't tempting.

But not tempting enough. The whole time his amused smile did not filter once because he knew what his final verdict was.

"No." Her shoulders slumped and a defeated sigh came out. He needed her to know that there was no point in trying to fight. That she didn't have any control and that she'd be better off listening to him. There wasn't going to be anyone else that she'd want or need, but him.

"Someone's going to notice I'm gone. My therapist, my professors, and my family." He rolled his eyes at the last example. "I've already dropped your therapist for you through your email. College isn't a problem for you anymore. As for your family."

She didn't like how he dragged out 'your family' with such disdain. "Do you think they'll search for you? They'll send a few search teams and act sad, but they aren't going to look for you." She mentally scolded herself for being so quick to believe him. Even if it was just for a second. It was a second that she believed that they were anything, but moral people.

"You know that's a lie. When Jerome-"

Jeremiah's mood soured at the name. "Who wouldn't be worried? Jerome stands for nothing and will burn everything. When I–" He stopped to prevent himself from becoming so pressed, "Can't you see that they're just acting at this point? They wouldn't be pretending if didn't make them look heartless."

"Because they aren't heartless. You've never even met them, so I don't think it's even fair to judge them." Jeremiah couldn't understand why after all this time, she still defends them. The nights when poured out her feelings towards her family are still fresh in his mind. She'd get so emotional when talking about how alone she was and how she wished they could be a normal family.

"You're right, I never met them because they never showed up to anything. Not once have they shown up to any of your art galleries or even your graduation. I had to comfort you because they always upset you somehow. You've been fine without them for years, and you'll be fine without them now."

y/n let out a frustrated sigh. The Wayne family was complicated and held many secrets. Secrets that she couldn't talk about meaning he'd never have the full picture. They were good people deep down, she knows it. It wasn't fair for her to demand their attention after they came back from saving lives. Yet it reminded her that she wasn't worthy of their time or effort after she quit.

"They're good people, it's just that they're always so busy."

"Your father or brothers can't give you an hour of their time? Jesus Christ, y/n, I know you have attachment issues but come on." Her eyes widen in surprise.

"I don't have attachment issues," She balls her hands into fists, "I'm mentally sound and have normal, healthy relationships with others." Her words made Jeremiah tisk, yet almost smile at the same time.

"You're accusing me of being mentally ill, but look at yourself. You had to go to therapy weekly, every few years you'll end up in the ER for suicidal ideation, and you rely on medication to make you feel normal. This morning you attacked Ecco when she did nothing wrong." The look of hurt painted y/n's face.

"Okay, but I wasn't-"

He faked a shocked expression like he was outraged by the few things she had said. "y/n, you don't have to yell at me. I know you're insecure about your mental health, but you have to accept that you are nothing without anyone." She tried to say something, but he spoke over her. "It's clear you aren't ready to talk about this by how emotional you are. I'll give you some time to calm down."

He got up and began making his way out of the room. As he was leaving and closed the door he could hear y/n begging him to come back. To not leave her alone. That she was sorry, in a perfect world he might have gone back to comfort the distraught girl, but there was too much work and so little time.

When passing by Ecco he said, "If she doesn't quite down give her midazolam."

Right after y/n was handed her diploma, she quickly walked off the stage with a clenched jaw and a big smile. Jeremiah sighed as he looked at the text he received not long after she fled. 'I'm ready to go. I'll be waiting in the car.' He glanced around the people seeing the families hugging and praising their loved ones. Yeah, he could understand and he didn't want to be there any longer himself.

Leaving the school he found y/n sitting in the passenger seat with the side of her head resting against the window. He couldn't tell because it was dark out, but he was sure her eyes were slightly reddened. While he got behind the steering wheel he asked, "Do you want to go back to my place?" She nodded her head.

y/n has been making it a habit of going to Jeremiah's place instead of home. He doesn't understand it personally, but he did understand the reasoning behind it to a certain extent. She told him of how lonely Wayne Manor was because everyone was doing their own thing. Saying that she didn't want to disturb their work which he found ironic because she'd always try to distract him when he was doing something. Still, his place was less lonely because he still lived with his Uncle.

During the ride back to his apartment the radio filled the silence. Every so often he'd glance at her to see that she was staring out the window. The look on her face didn't tell him that she was numbing herself by ignoring her feelings. Instead, her eyebrows were furrowed as hugged herself. He would have liked to know what she thinking, but he didn't want to push her to tell him.

When they made it in front of the mixed-use building they just sat there. The radio and the purring engine no longer provided a slight distraction. Jeremiah waited a moment for y/n to move. It took a little longer, but eventually, she pulled herself out of the car. Her movements held no energy in them and it made her seem like she had just got out of her nine-to-five.

She didn't grab his hand and intertwine their fingers just to feel close. She only walked beside him slightly slouching. He wanted to reach out for her hand, but there was this pit in his stomach that made him anxious. This mildly intense feeling made him worry about what he should do.

Comfort. He didn't know how to comfort her let alone anyone. Yes, there were moments when she'd open up about what was bothering her but all he did was be there. Listen to the [hair color] haired girl ramble more so towards herself than him. If she wanted to, which was often, she asked him for a hug or something that didn't require him to do much.

He could do that right now, right? A hug or a kiss on the cheek– no. It was too risky. This was uncharted territory for Jeremiah, to be the one to entail any physical affection. When y/n suddenly held his hand or pecked his cheek that'd fluster him a bit. Flustered doesn't describe what he feels when thinking of reaching out to her hand because his heart races and his hands start to feel shaky. Panicked might be the word.

Jeremiah's thoughts were suddenly cut off when they entered the apartment and were greeted by a sweet aroma. He was surprised his uncle didn't jump out to greet y/n into their home as if she doesn't sleep there four times a week. y/n didn't seem bothered and made a beeline toward Jeremiah's room. He could hear her flop onto the bed.

He wandered around the kitchen to find a note with a cake next to it.

'I might be still working by the time you get back. To congratulate her on graduation, I baked a cake for her. Tell her I said congratulations.'

Glancing, he slightly smiled at his uncle's gesture. Putting down the piece of paper he entered his room to find y/n had rolled herself up in his blankets. Hearing his footsteps she opened her eyes. "My uncle made you a cake and wanted to tell you congratulations."

y/n only lazily hummed a response but he could see her face soften. She watched Jeremiah from his bed as he pulled out the chair from his desk to sit on it. Then listened to him write and scribe on some paper while she stared at the ceiling thinking to herself.

It felt awkward. At least to him. Once again he didn't know what to do except wait. That in itself is fine and normal for them, but this time just felt different. Maybe it was because the problem was different. He didn't know except that he didn't want to wait for her. Wait for her to talk or cling to him for comfort. He wanted to do something. He had to do something.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His quiet, almost soft voice startled her. Looking at him, she slightly smiled, "Do you think I was stupid to get my hopes up?"

He struggled to think of a response. He wanted to say the right thing and think of a long response. Yet he only blurted out, "Of course not." Not getting a response immediately made him slightly panicked. Fearing that he had somehow worsened her mood with his words.

"Do you…" The question y/n was going to ask quickly died when she realized it would have been too specific to ask. So she quickly thought of a different way to ask her original question, "Do you think I'm worthless?" Her words hung in the air before she spoke up again. "Nevermind. Forget what I asked, it's stupid."

"y/n…"

She looked at his face. Those deep blue eyes look back at her with a mixture of emotions. The ones she could identify were pity or sadness. It made her shift her eyes away out of embarrassment. In an attempt to move away from her weird question, she asked him to please lie in bed with her.

Now they lay on their side holding each other. She had her ear resting against his chest while his chin sat atop her head. Being close to each other like this made it seem like tonight was just like any other night.

The steady thumping of his heart was putting her to rest until it started picking up the pace. He took a deep breath before quietly telling her, "I love you, y/n."

She broke out into a huge smile. It was the first time he ever said this. When she says it, she never expected a response back because of how flustered he'd looked after hearing it. Not wanting to show how much of a big deal it was to her, she earnestly responded.

"I love you too, Xander, and I won't ever stop."

Masterlist I might as well make this into a series, but I have no ideas for the next part. The heart failure plotline is inspired by an old Jeremiah x Reader story I read a while ago. I'll look for it later, but I remember liking the idea because I found it beautifully horrifying. If I do find the fanfic I'll link it here.

#jeremiah x reader #jeremiah x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #yandere jeremiah x reader

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 11 months ago

Note

Abyss - for seal girl

This accidentally wound up being the prequel to a thing I wrote last night???? So I'll probably cross-post them as a set later

“You do not talk about yourself much during our dinners.” Queen Alicent’s words were casual, a simple, almost inflectionless observation.

“Not much to talk about.”

“That isn't what you make it sound like.” She looked pointedly at her over the rim of her goblet. The two weeks following their discussion about Aldreda’s conduct had seen the dowager queen growing more comfortable. Comfortable enough, apparently, to imply a request for the impossible.

Aldreda’s self was an abyss, deep and dark and unknowable. What it contained beyond forty dead, black eyes staring up from the bottom wasn't for anyone to see.

“I am The Farwynd’s tenth child, and the heir to The Lonely Light.” Others would contest that second part, regardless of how wrong it made them. But still, her dead brothers blinked their lifeless black eyes at her. She would not be heir if even one of them had lived.

“Tenth?” She adjusted how she sat, no doubt feeling almost physical sympathy for the hypothetical woman who'd squeezed out that many children.

“He has four salt wives.”

The dowager queen's posture relaxed, but only slightly, as a soft little hm came from behind her tightly closed lips. After a moment, she nodded, a silent instruction for Aldreda to continue.

“I am the best, most skilled raider of House Farwynd in my generation.” Her oldest brothers would have been approaching their fifth decade at this point. Regardless of that putting truth to her boast, four sets of eyes blinked up at her from the bottom of the abyss in her chest. You'll never replace us in his eyes. Try the others.

“I have the most loyal crew.” Three sets this time. Your crew has not died with you. Yours did not try to go further west with you. Yours would not follow you to the smoking ruins of Valyria. Try replacing the others.

“I've never lost the finger dance.” Alwin's big, black seal eyes blinked back at her from the pile of dead brothers she hid her self under. I did, and you still have not replaced me. The Farwynd wants me more than you.

“When The Sunderly hosted me, he said he'd never received tribute so nice from a raid that was not carried out on his order.” All forty eyes blinked up at her from the bottom of the abyss. Flattery for a woman his son wanted. You cannot be us.

“If I'd been born a boy, I'd have seven salt wives by now.” That made her brothers still and lifeless again. The ones who'd taken one only had one before they died. They could not balk at accomplishments no one had, and could not make her guilty over something that had not taken any of them.

“Mhmm.” The dowager queen set her cup down. There was silence between them, and she worked her jaw as her big, brown eyes focused on some point on the wall.

“You asked,” Aldreda said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, “it is not my fault if you find the customs of the old ways distasteful.”

“They have no say in it, Lady Farwynd.”

She snorted. “I've never fucked someone who didn't want it. I would not force any woman.” Aldreda was better than all of them: the dead men in the abyss where the girl she'd been before they started dropping like flies hid, the living men in her House's castles, half her crew before she'd gotten her teeth in them and whipped them into shape.

“How kind of you.” Her tone was flat, but a softness entered her eyes again. The dowager queen's hand went to her goblet again, but she did not pick it up, instead drumming the tips of her fingers against the gold. The soft tapping of her nails against the cup could be heard in the silence until she stopped abruptly.

“Your care towards at least that is the only thing of substance you've actually said about yourself,” Queen Alicent’s words were soft as she finally looked Aldreda in the face again, “have we not grown close enough in these weeks for you to tell me more than your list of accomplishments?”

“I do not understand, Your Grace.”

The dowager queen leaned forward, and placed her fingers gently over top of Aldreda’s. “I hold little curiosity for your boasts, you make most of them clear to everyone. I would know the woman underneath them.”

“I hide nothing. What you see when you look at me is what you get, there is nothing to be curious about.” The deep abyss in her chest was filled with her boasts. Her victories, her plunder, her indulged whims, her conquests, her twenty dead brothers. That was her. Anything at the bottom was not important enough to know.

“And what if what I see is a woman who has more to her than she shows off?”

“It could be shown off. If you want.” A wide, easy grin spread across Aldreda's face, and the flush from drink on the dowager queen's cheeks deepened as more blood rushed there. Queen Alicent swallowed before her lips parted, her gaze fixed on Aldreda’s.

“I do.”

Aldreda stood from the small, circular table and walked around to the other side. Queen Alicent had half risen from her chair by the time she came to her, and as Aldreda placed the tips of her fingers under her chin she finished standing up, their contact never breaking. She fully lifted the smaller woman's chin, and lowered her head down to brush her lips against hers.

The dowager queen's eyes fluttered shut, and she pressed her mouth into Aldreda’s, reciprocating for only a moment. Just before she could swipe her tongue across Queen's Alicent's lips, she stepped back, freeing herself from the kiss before it could go any further. Aldreda looked down at her, dumbfounded, as the dowager queen, red faced and stiff postured, awkwardly smoothed her dark green gown. Half her movements seemed nothing more than a way to busy herself, doing nothing to actually straighten or adjust anything.

“You-you should leave, Lady Farwynd.”

“What?”

“To your apartments. The, ah, the hour grows late.”

“But we–”

“I will have Ser Criston escort you.”

“What about you seeing all of me, I thought you said you wanted to know all there was to the master of ships.”

“I changed my mind, Lady Farwynd. Good night.”

Aldreda stood in stunned silence as Queen Alicent called for her damned knight, the white cloak appearing through some door only a moment later. She barely registered the other woman giving him his instructions, but she did not wait for his following of them.

“Good night, Your Grace.” With that, Aldreda crossed to the door and went out into the hall. The door closed behind her harder than she meant.

#asoiaf oc #alicent hightower x oc #oc: aldreda farwynd #my writing #ocappreciation #nat tag

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foli-vora · 2 years ago

Note

Congrats on 1k! ✨ can I request 35 w/Marcus Pike x f!reader? (He takes care of her?) Absolutely ❤️ your writing so much!!!

*We’re ignoring the fact that this request has taken a year. I’M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY*

Thanks so much sweet thing! So sorry for the super late reply to this, but I hope you still enjoy my little somethin’.

#35 kissing their bruises and scars

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: guns, violence, the sweetest man to ever exist

It was never meant to happen like it did. The plan had been thoroughly worked out, everyone tirelessly going over each and every minor detail there was little room for error, and yet—it happened.

The pull of a weapon was nothing new to him anymore. Sure, it birthed that familiar trickle of adrenaline that thrummed through his system and kicked his instincts into power mode, but there was very little fear now. He trusted his gut, and his team. The pull of a weapon onto you, however, was a different situation entirely.

He feels the steady loss of blood from his face, the way sweat starts to build along the skin of his palms and back of his neck. He should shoot. He should shoot now—

The quiet demand you hiss at him has him pausing, his fingers tightening around his own weapon as he fights the voice inside his mind all but screaming at him to take the suspect out, to put just one bullet in that shoulder and make him drop that fucking gun. He was a threat—a threat to him, to the team, to you.

You’re so cool about it, barely even flinching when the barrel aims square at your chest. Your hands are raised, your voice calm and steady as you try to diffuse the situation. You’re so damn good at your job. He doesn’t tell you enough.

Your gentle coaxing works. The weapon slowly lowers and Marcus feels like he can take a small breath, but then in a split second, it all goes wrong.

Something startles the suspect. He panics. The gun is raised and Marcus watches in horror as your chest takes the brunt of a bullet, and then another, your body falling back into the table behind you. His own weapon is fired not even a breath later, his team moving in to swarm the suspect now bleeding and yelling on the floor and he doesn’t care.

He rushes to you, your name falling from his lips in a panicked shout, but relief fills his pores when you squirm on the ground and shift to roll onto your side, pushing yourself into a sitting position.

You’re groaning, the pained frown deepening between your brows as you tear away at your shirt to view the damaged Kevlar and rub at where the bullets had hit.

“Jesus Christ, that fucking hurts.” You whine with a cringe. “I want a pay rise.”

Marcus drops to his knees, one hand moving to run over the Kevlar while the other dances along your jawline. There’s a tremble in his hands as his eyes flicker over your form before rolling to meet yours, his thumb brushing along the soft skin of your cheek.

“You good?” You murmur, watching the fear and relief swirl in those beautiful deep brown eyes.

He swallows, inhaling deeply through his nose before nodding, smiling faintly at your ever present need to put others before yourself. You’re the one with bullets in your vest and yet you’re asking him if he’s okay?

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

—

He’s at his desk, head bent over the paperwork spread in front of him. You watch the steady scrawl of his pen across the pages before you rap a gentle hand at the door, smiling when his gaze flies up to meet yours.

“Caffeine, sir.” You brandish a cup of coffee, playfully bending at the waist in a mock bow before the sudden flash of pain has your features twisting and he sits straighter in his chair.

“Have you been cleared—”

Smiling, you come around to perch on the edge of his desk beside him after quietly closing his door, carefully resting his coffee on the small bit of bare desk between files.

“Yes, boss. No broken bones or internal damage. Just some swelling and bruising. I gotta take it easy though, so guess who’s cooking dinner?”

“Hmm… probably me because you can’t cook.” He grins, pushing to roll his chair back so you could slide fully in front of him. The pen drops to the desk with a quiet clatter as his hands come to rest softly on your hips, your own coming to run along his shoulders and hook loosely around his neck.

“Rude. It’s not my fault your oven burns things.”

His smile widens before a small frown starts to work its way along his brow, his mind running through the events of the day and what he could have done differently. His eyes fall to your torso while a hand lifts to run along where you had been hit, replaying that moment of impact and watching you fall back again and again until an ugly feeling settles harsh and relenting around his heart.

You wince under the soft pressure and he pulls away immediately, instead moving to pinch the hem of the soft cotton FBI shirt hanging off your shoulders and moving it up out of the way.

“We’re not the only ones here, Special Agent Pike.” You remind him in a soft murmur, humming as his lips press softly into the bare skin of your stomach.

“I just have to do something.”

He pushes the shirt higher, his thumb brushing over the noticeable lump along your skin before pressing his lips tenderly to the area. He stays there for a long moment, his curved nose ghosting over your skin as his lips deliver kiss after sweet kiss.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the tender gestures, your chest and cheeks warming with affection as your fingers card gently through his hair. He moves his attention to the other sore spot, delivering just the same amount of care and love there before exhaling softly against your skin.

He blinks up at you and you smile, fingers dancing along his hairline. “I love you.”

Marcus softens at the words, a faint flush of pink working it’s way up his throat as his lips curl into a wide toothy smile. “I love you. Come on, let’s get you home and into a hot bath. Boss’s orders.”

“Will you make me pancakes?”

“Anything for you.”

#foli's 1k #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist fic

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itllsetyoufree · 4 years ago

Note

“Does this help?” + kara being injured

All things considered, Lena’s Saturday has been startlingly unremarkable so far. The sun is shining, she’d had her usual cup of yogurt with sliced bananas for breakfast, she hasn’t gotten a single off-hours weekend call from work, and she’d even had time to read the Cooking section in the National City Tribune. The biggest thing on her calendar for the day is her weekly movie night with Kara, which she’d been quietly looking forward to since Kara had left her apartment after their movie night the week before.

There was a time in Lena’s life where the easy, almost leisurely flow of her day would have been alarmingly, disarmingly suspect. But with no attempts on her life and L-Corp running smoothly for the last year or so, Lena’s life has settled into something more… quiet.

And on any other day, it might have continued that way.

Because noxious gas-breathing, nine-legged alien dragons aren’t typically her problem.

She gets the notification on her phone, of course:

Emergency Alert: Rogue Alien Attacking National City Waterfront— alien is violent and unrestrained, exhales unidentified purple gas. Residents urged to remain indoors and to close all windows.

Lena sighs, rolling her neck to the side and grabbing her phone as she lifts herself off her couch to close her balcony door. Despite having a near-panoramic view of the water, Lena’s apartment is on the other side of town from the docks, but she winds her way around her apartment anyway and closes all of her windows just in case. She’s just shutting the last one when she fires off a text to Kara, telling her to stay inside and to not come over until the alien is taken care of, and don’t even think about going down to the docks to report on it, Kara, I know CatCo doesn’t have gas masks on hand.

She gets a single thumbs up in response, an unusually terse reply from Kara, who never sends one text message when three will do, but Lena doesn’t think much of it and just settles back down on the couch to flip on the news.

She watches live as the alien positively obliterates several of National City’s piers with three of its arms. The video feed shows people diving out of the way as wet, splintered wood flies in every direction. The esplanade is littered with debris as the alien rears up again, swinging its tail against the surface of the bay and spraying rolling waves of water onto the shore.

Lena blows out a heavy breath as she watches the destruction unfold before reaching out for her phone again. She’s just hitting send on an email to Jess, telling her to donate funds to the city to rebuild the docks, when the unmitigated panic on screen abruptly stops.

She sits up straight on the couch as she watches the dragon puff out a billowing cloud of purple smoke. It unfurls along the embankment and the remaining parts of the boardwalk, and slowly engulfs the small crowd of people fleeing the waterfront and the remaining stragglers on the shoreline.

Lena watches, mouth parting in shock, as they all stop running en masse and slow to a halt. The newsfeed goes silent as the crowd stops screaming, even the newscaster losing his breath as everyone stands still, lolling around on their feet as if held up by rubber and not muscle, before they all calmly sink down to the ground and lay down.

The sweeping shot of everyone resting on the ground seems to spur the news anchor back to life, and he resumes narrating wildly, jabbering and speculating like an auctioneer calling the Superbowl.

The dragon stops destroying more of the docks to huff out another cloud of smoke at a helicopter nearby. Lena sucks in a breath as the helicopter wobbles in the air over the people on the ground, but it just floats softly down, landing gentle as a feather on the nearest open patch of grass. Lena pinches her eyebrows together, bewildered, but before she can think too much on it, there’s a red and blue streak zooming into the frame.

Supergirl pulls up behind the dragon, and Lena only has a second to admire the sun glinting off her hair before Supergirl grabs the alien by one of its legs and flings it out toward the sea.

From there it’s a whirlwind. Supergirl and the alien lunge and splash and swing at each other at a dizzying speed, spinning in the air and dragging each other under the water. The camera holds steady on them for several minutes until one final breathtaking moment. Both Supergirl and the alien breach out of the water and whirl to face one another. Supergirl’s eyes glow for a split second before her heat vision activates and scorches across the dragon’s abdomen. It crashes back to the water with a roar, but just before it sinks beneath the surface, it huffs out one final breath of smoke.

It catches Supergirl visibly off-guard as she recovers from the fight, gasping for air just as it engulfs her. The newscaster goes silent once more, watching as Supergirl seems to go loose mid-air. She sways a little, drifting in the wind, a glassy, confused look on her face. Lena’s reaching for her phone, ready to call Alex to see if she can help, when Supergirl shakes her head and starts to fly, slowly and unsteadily, away from the scene.

The newscaster and Lena heave a simultaneous sigh of relief, and Lena lets her phone drop back down to the couch. The news switches back to coverage of the dazed, lethargic people on the shore who seem confused but otherwise unharmed. Lena’s just relaxing back into the cushions, half a mind to open her windows back up to let in the breeze, when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

She turns, watching as Supergirl floats shakily toward her balcony.

When Supergirl lands, it’s with none of the elegance or athleticism Lena’s come to associate with her. There’s no graceful descent, no landing delicately on one pointed foot or shooting down from the sky to stop on a dime just before she hits the ground. Supergirl drifts closer and closer to her building, one foot outstretched as she reaches Lena’s balcony, but her foot catches on the top of the railing, and she topples over it, hands splayed out to catch herself. She spills over the banister and lands on her chest, legs arching up behind her and feet still hooked over the railing. She looks up at Lena through the glass window, eyes half glazed over and unfocused as her cape slides up the slope of her back to pool at the back of her neck.

The sight of her, glassy and dazed and draped over her railing like a wet towel spurs Lena into action. She throws the balcony door open and rushes over, dropping to her knees and reaching out to run her hands down the length of Supergirl’s arms, cupping her cheeks and tilting her head to either side to look for bruises.

“Supergirl! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Come, let’s get you to the DEO.”

“Hi.”

Lena stills, pausing her frantic checking of Supergirl’s pulse to actually take stock of the situation.

Supergirl, seemingly unconcerned by her chin pressing into the concrete or being curled backwards over herself, blinks up at Lena. She looks untroubled, calm, her hair and suit still damp from the water but otherwise right as rain, but the expression on her face is… vacant. Her eyes are glossy, just slightly unfocused, mouth parted as she looks up at Lena. She looks open, unguarded, and completely unaware, and Lena recalibrates.

“Supergirl, do you know where you are?”

“Your balcony.”

“And do you know who I am?”

“Lena.”

“Does anything hurt?”

“No.”

“Can you untangle your feet so we can get you up?”

“Oh,” Supergirl remarks, like she hadn’t noticed her feet weren’t under her. She tries to twist around to look over her back at her feet, and she shuffles a little, unhooking the toes of her boots and falling fully onto the stone floor.

Lena tsks and instinctually reaches out again, grabbing hold of Supergirl’s shoulders and helping her move until she’s sitting upright, propped against the balcony railing. Supergirl leans back against it, blinking slowly and looking blankly around, and Lena finds herself itching for the phone she left in the living room but unwilling to leave the woman in front of her while she’s so vulnerable.

It isn’t like she hasn’t dealt with an incapacitated Supergirl before. Lena’s saved Supergirl from more than a handful of scrapes in the past couple years, but never like this, never while she was conscious, never while she seemed loopy and almost childlike. It’s easier to maintain her focus, Lena realizes, easier to put the worry aside and work on a fix when Supergirl is in grave danger, in desperate need of help.

This, with her awake and seemingly fine but so disoriented is throwing Lena off guard. Normal citizens shouldn’t see their city’s hero downed and unconscious, but they shouldn’t see her like this either, unfocused and confused, almost as if she’d been drugged. It’s unsettling, deeply uncomfortable in a way Lena can’t put her finger on, and she can’t help but feel both protective and out of her element at the same time.

“Okay,” Lena says, keeping her voice soft and caring. “How about we get you over to the DEO so they can check you out?”

“No, thanks,” comes the quiet reply. “I’ll stay here.”

It’s Lena’s turn to blink confusedly back at Supergirl, but the woman is looking elsewhere. The soft breeze that’s been blowing all day blows an errant leaf off of one of Lena’s plants and into Supergirl’s lap, and Lena watches, latent sense of panic beginning to grow in her stomach, as Supergirl picks up the leaf and twirls it between her fingers.

“I really think we should get you over to the DEO. You seem a little… off,” Lena says, careful to phrase it as gently as she can to not cause any alarm. “What if I just have Director Danvers come here by herself?” Lena asks, half unsure why she’s humoring Supergirl before she realizes that Supergirl has probably never gone anywhere she didn’t want to go— on account of being strong enough to lift a space station.

“No,” Supergirl responds again, simply, not rudely, “she’s not invited.”

Lena narrows her eyes at that, trying to sort out what kind of laughing gas this dragon has breathed out.

“I think I’m in charge of that,” Lena retorts, but she sighs, because Supergirl just looks up at her and smiles dopily.

“Okay,” Lena tries again. “Will you at least stand up and come inside? I can do some research on how to get these side effects to go away.”

Supergirl acquiesces this time, or at least Lena thinks she does until Supergirl turns away from the open door to her living room.

“I’ll stay out here,” she says, words slurring a little as she points to one of Lena’s deck chairs. “Need a little sun.”

She sways on the spot, as if momentarily suspended by the breeze, before stumbling over to Lena’s deck chair and collapsing onto it. She trips on one of the legs and the chair breaks under her weight, but she doesn’t seem to notice, letting her eyes drift shut and tilting her chin up toward the sun. A small smile crosses her face as the sun warms her, and Lena finds herself unable to hold back a small smile of her own.

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” Lena says, already planning out her research on alien dragons and a call to Alex in her head. “Then I’m making the call.”

“Uh uh,” Supergirl hums, eyes still closed, and Lena raises both eyebrows. “Is’fine, Lena. Don’t call. Wanted to come here.”

The longer sentences are starting to ease Lena’s mind, but Supergirl’s response rattles around in her brain and she can’t help but ask.

“Supergirl?”

Supergirl just hums back at her again.

“Why’d you come here instead of going to the DEO?”

“Didn’t want to miss movie night,” she says, calmly while she exhales, like Lena had asked her what day it is and she’d said, ‘Saturday.’

Lena freezes. The pit of panic in her stomach drops out and her whole body clenches at the loss. She stands frozen, staring at the figure laying prone, sprawled out on her deck chair. Lena’s heart pounds. She feels the rapid thudding in her chest, hears it reverberate in her ears. She takes it in, the red boots and skirt, the blue suit, the cape, the blonde hair.

Her eyes map the features on Supergirl’s face, and she realizes with some modicum of horror how familiar those features are. The point of her chin, the slope of her cheekbones, the nick of the scar above her eyebrow, the slightly upturned, charming pull of her mouth. It’s all—

“Lena?” those eyebrows scrunch together and it comes out as a whine, and Lena is overcome.

The panic disappears, instantly replaced by a tidal wave of worry, of affection, of bewilderment, confusion, and a little hurt.

“I’m here,” is what she blurts out in response, dropping onto the adjacent chair and wrapping her hand around Supergirl’s— Kara’s?— wrist, gentle, caring. “Hey, hey, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Mhmm” Supergirl hums again, twisting her wrist to take hold of Lena’s hand. “Better already. Just need a nap and then we can watch a movie, okay?” Her voice is light and airy, and the smile droops off her face as she begins to fall asleep, but Lena can’t let her go, can’t be left alone with her racing mind. She needs to know, needs to be sure, and with a pounding heart, she presses on.

“Have—” Lena starts. Her voice cracks and she clears her throat and tries again, wiping the hand not enclosed in Supergirl’s tiredly across her brow. “Have you thought about what movie you want to see?”

“Which Star Wars are we up to?” Supergirl mumbles, half-asleep, and Lena feels her whole body clench with the confirmation as she sweeps her eyes up and down the figure in front of her with renewed worry, checking for injuries she knows aren’t there, because it’s Kara, it’s Kara, it’s Kara.

“Episode Six,” she whispers, tightening her hand around Kara’s.

“That one. ‘S a good one.” Kara breathes back.

Kara shifts on the chair a little bit, and small as the movement is, Lena thinks it looks the tiniest more purposeful, the tiniest bit less loose and floppy, and Lena feels her shoulders relax with it. It shifts something in her, the worry beginning to melt into a tender form of annoyance and she decides to push a little more.

“Are you hungry?”

“Mm,” Kara hums, smiling again. Lena narrows her eyes at her.

“Do you want Big Belly Burger for dinner like last time?”

“Mhmm yeah,” Kara murmurs, “and those fries that I like.”

Lena smirks, raising an eyebrow, but Kara is completely unaware. Lena squeezes her hand and stands. “I’ll order the food, and you can nap until it gets here, okay?”

“Mhmm thanks, Lena.”

“You’re welcome, Kara,” she says pointedly, but Kara doesn’t notice. Lena watches her smile in her half-asleep doze, her hand twitching a little until the smile droops off her face and she falls asleep just like that. Lena stands there, gaping at her for a moment, then makes her way inside.

Twenty minutes later, after a text to Alex and enough time spent slowing her racing heart, enough time spent with the news to know that the gas wears off on its own, eventually, she hears a sigh and a creak from outside. Supergirl— Kara, god, it’s Kara— is stretching on the deck chair, which appears to be hanging on for dear life, and Lena lifts herself off the couch, grabbing the bag next to her and making her way back outside.

She sets a glass of water down on the drinks table next to Kara’s head, watching as she shifts in the sun but doesn’t open her eyes.

“How are you feeling, Supergirl?”

“Mhmm, good, sleepy,” Kara yawns.

“They pulled that dragon out of the bay,” Lena says casually, crossing her arms. “You did a great job. No one’s hurt. The effects of the gas seem to subside on their own.”

“Good,” Kara murmurs, tilting her head up into the sun again. “That’s good.”

“The food’s here too,” Lena informs her, unable to hold back a smirk. “I got us a couple shakes as well.”

“Thanks,” Kara sighs happily. You’re the best.”

“But Kara?”

“Mmph?”

“You have to change out of your suit first. Wouldn’t want to get any residual alien goop on my couch.”

It’s exactly as satisfying as she thought it would be. Kara’s loose, floppy posture stiffens as her spine snaps straight, her eyes flying open as the chair finally gives out from under her. Lena watches the wheels turn once Kara hits the ground, sees Kara’s eyes bug out when they make eye contact. Kara’s flick down to look at her suit, then back up to Lena.

Lena twists her wrist, letting the paper bag swing out toward Kara.

“Your fries?”

#when you haven't been able to write a word for months and are struck by this feral fever dream of a thing #and when you misremember the line in the prompt as being 'can i help you?'#and then don't include it anyway #OOPS #btc you're a hero as always <3 #fic tag #anonymous #ask box

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books-and-catears · 4 years ago

Note

Welp, since I’m a regular now; I’mma just park my chair here and spin the idea wheel. And so the idea wheel has decided!

Let’s have the Brothers and Undatables react to MC just barging in unexpectedly while they’re busy doing whatever. Everyone’s just vibing together at Diavolo’s talking about things, playing games, and all dat jazz and suddenly MC comes in with a blank face before they get a sad expression (they’re this close 👌🏾 to having a breakdown, it’s so sad).

MC:....Can I have a hug? 🥺 *says weakly as they were seconds away from crying*

Bby needs comfort! (Let’s just say they recently lost a loved one and they want some affection)

My first ever regular. You have no idea how much I cherish you. Thank you for the funniest and angstiest asks ever. This hits too close to home. I've lost two very close people to disease and suicide in the last few years and the feeling is horrible. So this might end up being a bit self indulgent... apologies.

Please if any of your friends seem not okay, check up on them regularly. Even the adults in your life. And most importantly check up on yourself. Take care okay?

I will do my best to do this justice too. Sorry if it's a little late college and extra classes are a pain sometimes.

It was not news you were prepared to receive. Not that day. It was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Lord Diavolo had announced a small party just for Council and the exchange students. Asmo had taken hours to get you ready. Everyone was excited and in good spirits, clinking their glasses and cheering for a joyous reunion. There was music, dancing and laughter so loud, it felt like it was echoing all across Devildom.

And yet here you were in the bathroom, bent over a sink, staring at yourself in disbelief. You had received horrible news from the human world.

A last message an old friend had left for you.

"Hey MC, thanks for being kind to me. Although we have a long and sweet history, it felt good to reconnect and feel wanted in my last few days. Thanks for the last hug, MC. It was the best one I've ever had."

What kind of bittersweet message was this? What was the point of making them feel wanted if they still left anyway?

No you must keep your composure, you think. The laughter keeps echoing louder. While internal screams creep up your throat. You have to go back before they start worrying about you.

The doors to the ballroom feel heavy as you push through. "Hey look! MC's back! Now we-- MC...?"

You don't know what face you were making, but everyone went quiet. Some looked horrified, some worried and some panicked. You felt your head go dizzy with the pain, tears stinging the corners it your eyes.

Looking directly at one of them, you croaked out the first thing that came into mind.

"C-could I have a hug?"

Lucifer

This man isn't a hugger. But for you he'd make an exception every day.

Especially when you asked for it so desperately.

Walk up to you swiftly, holding the back of your head and pressing it to his chest, while his other arm wraps around you.

"Would you prefer to spend some time in private?" He whispers as you break into soft sobs in his arms and nod.

"Excuse us. We'll be back shortly. Anyone who follows us will face consequences. MC needs some time alone." He calls out to the rest and whisks you away to his room.

Makes you sit in his lap as he cradles you while you cry. Keeps telling you it's not your fault and you tried your best.

Mammon

Someone save this boy, he is a mess himself.

He feels guilty already. He can't stand to see you this way. What couldn't he protect you from??

Aren't you the one who rushes to give people hugs?

He returns the favour. Sprinting towards you and engulfing you instantly in his arms.

He feels your shaky breath as you cling on to him and goes bezerk.

"Oi. I'm taking MC home." It's the most serious he has ever been.

Doesn't hesitate to bring out his wings and fly you home as soon as possible. He cups your face as you cry, his fingers wiping down each tear. His eyes are pained looking at you like this, it wasn't even your fault. You tried till the end didn't you?

Leviathan

This man's protective trigger has been switched. Who dare be the cause of this?

You're his cheery best friend. He simply won't stand to see you like this.

Runs towards you and hugs you as tight as he can, like you've done for him so many times. Embarassment be damned.

You asked for a hug, he will definitely give you one. You grab onto his jacket with trembling fingers and lean into him.

"MC would you like to go home ?" He asks softly, patting your head. You nod softly.

Takes you home as fast as possible, and lays you down in his tub. When start crying violently he starts to tear up alongside you. Losing a friend isn't easy afterall.

Satan

His first instinct was violence. His fist tightening, about to murder whoever did this to you.

But the moment you raised your arms, asking for a hug in that small voice, it was like looking at a helpless kitten in pain.

Another one who sprints towards you to hold you close. His hug feels gentle yet urgent at the same time.

He cupped your cheek, and stared as your eyes grew misty. "Don't worry we're getting out this instant." Slammed the doors behind him as he left. A subtle message to leave them be.

He took you to common room, near the fireplace to warm you up, one of his arms always around you, as you wailed and choked on your tears. He presses kisses on your head too and tells you how kind you were. You did your part. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions.

Asmodeus

He is gasping and tearing up at the sight of you. Oh you poor thing who dare hurt you?!

How could he ever say no to your hugs? Especially now when you needed him most?

He comes at you with such speed that you both almost topple over. He rubs your back and arms trying to calm you down with his touch as he hugs you.

"Would you like to be alone with me MC?" The moment you nod, his wings are out and you're soaring through the air until you find yourself in his bath.

You lean against him and cry your heart out, he holds you from behind, pressing kisses on your head whispering it's okay.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is heartbroken. Why do you look like that? Where are you hurt?

He immediately hates that look on your face. He must do something to fix it immediately.

Runs and lifts you up in his arms and holds you so close to himself, his arms providing endless protection.

"MC will food make it better?" You shake your head so he takes off. He doesn't care about the feast he missed, he just wants you to be okay.

Flies you into his room and gives you plushies to hold onto while he gets you all your favourite food. Will hold you tight as you sob into his chest and will feed you later on cause he knows how exhausting crying can be.

Belphegor

He knows that face. And he knows the pain behind it. And now he's feeling it too.

Who did this? Who dared? Tell him their name and they're gone.

A hug, huh? He's ready to give you much more than that if you ask.

Walks towards you and wraps you up in his jacket and then his arms. His hug is so warm and soft you could fall asleep right there.

"Let's go lie down together." He will take you home and put you down in his bed, bundled up in his blanket, his soft pillow under your head. Pulls you flush against him as you sob and scream into his pillow.

Solomon

He is human. Of course he knows the face of ultimate pain. He's been through it so many times he's made himself immune.

But he wasn't immune to yours. Your ever smiling face - that was what he liked. This irked him, made him restless.

He's next to you in the blink of an eye, wrapping his arms around you, cloak and all, his mouth pressing down on your head.

"Let's take it to the sky shall we? Don't worry I've got you." He says softly. You nod, your fingers grasping at his shirt.

And in mere seconds you are soaring above the clouds, the gentle air cooling your burning heart as you cry into the wind. He holds you close and whispering to make you feel better.

Diavolo

He has seen this face only once before. When Lucifer came to him Lilith dying in his arms.

He saw the look on yours and he was determined to help you however he could. And if it started with a hug so be it.

Takes big strides and hoists you up in his arms, as you wrap your shaking arms around his neck and press your face into his jacket.

"The party is over. MC shall stay with me tonight I'll send them back when they feel better." Gone was his usual cheery tone. He seemed distraught, angry almost.

Took you to his bedroom and laid you down softly, still holding onto you tightly, keeping you from falling apart as you sob into his arms. Takes the next days off to be next to you.

Simeon

His emotions mirror your own. Seeing you in such pain, makes him feel the same.

His heart is breaking seeing you this way. He can't hold you fast enough.

He swiftly runs to hold your hands first. He feels them tremble in his own and he wraps himself around Immediately, cradling your head delicately.

"Let's get you away. You'd like that won't you?" He says running his fingers through your hair. You let you a breathy yes and he's off.

You land in Purgatory hall, curled up into him on the couch, freshly brewed flower tea on the table. He holds you close as you cry into his arms. Tells you that your friend is in a better place because you healed their soul before they left.

Barbatos

You made the usually composed demon crack. Even if for a moment, he felt the need to do something extreme.

What was causing you this much discomfort? He was ready to eliminate it.

A mere hug? Is that what would make you feel better? He is ready to deliver.

He's there before you know it, holding you like delicate royalty. You could crumble at how soft he was for you.

"Would you prefer somwhere more quiet?" He asks. You only need to nod once and he's already sweeping you off your feet and into his chambers. Picks the most calming teas for you as he sits by your side holding your hand.

Luke

He knew the demons were no good. Of course it was a matter of time before MC got hurt again.

He was about to cry looking at you, ready to throw hands at the whoever caused this.

A hug? A hug will help? YES OF COURSE.

He flies straight into, wrapping his little arms around your neck. Like a baby brother comforting a distraught older sibling.

"Come on MC! Let's get away from here!" He says and flies you off to purgatory hall. He brings you to the kitchen and starts whipping up your favourite desserts to cheer you up.

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redheadsinmybed · 3 years ago

Text

Captured

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

This is part of the Loving a little series Reader is little, light angst, happy ending

Summary: Wanda and Natasha are training. What happens when you’re left alone???

Notes: Sorry it’s been so long guys I hope you enjoy this one :) Let me know what you think of it!

You are all alone in a lonely bed with your lonely self. You were lonely because Wanda and Natasha are training. They got up at 6 waking you up and they’ve been training for 30 minutes now. 30 minutes of sleep that you’ve lost. Sure you tried to go back to bed, but you were having trouble without them.

Wanda and Natasha were training with each other. They had woken up early so they could have the training room all for themselves. They heard something in the hallway, assuming it was just some of the other avengers they kept training.

You hear the door open to you room, your eyes are closed and you don’t open them, assuming its Nat and Wands you say

“Mmm come back to bed.”

“I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon,” Says a strange voice. Your eyes fly open, but it’s too late, you scream and the stranger injects something into your arm.

“Miss Y/N is being hurt in her room by a Hydra agent,” Friday says over head. Suddenly red lights are being flashed everywhere, a loud beeping noise is being broadcasted all over the compound, and Friday is locking down the compound. It’s too late though.

“Where is she Friday?!” Wanda and Nat say panicked.

“They are already outside.” Friday says. Wanda and Natasha run outside to see you being carried by the Hydra agent. The stuff she injected into you had made your mind fuzzy, and you watch as red blurs your vision.

“Mama!” You say as loud as you can. Wanda flies up, but she can’t shoot down the plane that you went into without the chance of hurting you. She flies as fast as she can but she can’t keep up, and suddenly it disappears blending in with the clouds and she can’t tell where it is. She falls to the ground slowly landing on her knees crying. Natasha catches up with her in a vehicle.

“Baby?”

“I-I couldn't he-lp her. I heard her sc-scream f-for me.” Wanda says crying. Natasha picks her up and puts her in the car.

“I know baby, I watched you. You did the right thing, you couldn’t shoot down the plane. It’s gonna be okay we will find her,” Natasha coos as she gets up and drives back to the compound. The lights and beeping had stopped and everyone was up and ready for a fight.

“What happened, are you hurt?” Steve says as he sees Wanda crying.

“T-they took her, they t-took Y/N '' Wanda says, breaking down again.

“Who?” Tony asks.

“Hydra,” Natasha says holding Wanda and rubbing her back.

“Last time when Y/N first got her powers Hydra found out she was little, and that she has powers,” Natasha says.

“We won’t stop until we get her back,” Bucky says, putting a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

When you wake up you are in a cold dark cement cell and you’re still little.

“Hello little one,” You hear a male voice say coming from the other side of the bars.

“Ware my Mama?” You ask.

“You won’t be seeing your Mama for a while. I heard you have special powers is that right?”

“I fink so,” You say back. The man comes where you can see him, he’s old, has grey hair and a lot of wrinkles on his face.

“You wook old,” You say with a giggle. Clearly not knowing what kind of situation you are in. The old man unlocks your cell and grabs your arm.

“Listen here you little tot, I don’t know where you think you are, but this is not a place where laughter is to be heard. Maybe I should teach you a lesson.” He drags you out of the cell and brings you to a better lit room. He’s a very fast walker so he’s kind of dragging you across the floor by your arm. Your bottom lip starts to wobble and tears flood your eyesight. He stops dragging you and picks you up and sets you on a stool. You feel him grab your wrist and attach it to a handcuff on the top of the ceiling. He does the same to your other wrist.

After he gets your wrists hooked to the ceiling he kicks the chair out from under your feet. You scream in pain as you hang from the ceiling, the cuffs digging into your wrists. He watches as tears stream down your face while you whimper.

“Oh we are going to have some fun,” He says with a chuckle.

All the avengers are on a quint jet to the last and final Hydra base location that they know of. They’ve gone every other base that was within 300 miles of the compound. They landed in a spot of openings in the trees far enough from the Hydra base that they couldn’t be seen.

“What if she’s not here?” Wanda says with grief written all over her face.

“Hey,” Natasha says cupping Wanda’s face, making her look over at her.

“We are gonna find her, we aren’t gonna stop til we do,” Natasha says, rubbing her thumb on Wanda’s cheek. Wanda places her hand over Natasha’s.

“Promise?” She asks.

“Promise,” Natasha says back. Everyone gets out of the jet and starts towards the base. When they see the base in sight they hear something.

“Mama!!” Wanda and Nat instantly recognize your voice. Everyone takes off towards the base. There’s four guards blocking the entrance, Steve uses his shield to take out two of them. Iron Man uses his energy beam to knock out the one firing at Steve. Clint takes out the last one with his bow.

You hear ruckus outside and the old man hears it too. He runs off somewhere. When the door opens you expect it to be him again, but it’s not.

“Mama?” You say with tears in your eyes. Wanda catches sight of you and her heart breaks. You’re naked and there’s angry red cuts on your body and purple bruises everywhere.

“Yes baby girl, it’s me you’re okay now, Mama’s here,” She says as she uncuffs you and holds you to her. She holds you for a minute while the tears in her eyes drop down onto her face.

When she pulls away she wipes the tears away from your face and hers. She takes off her long red jacket and puts it over you. She picks you up, careful not to hurt you. You suck on your thumb and hold onto her tightly not wanting to ever leave her arms. You walk out to where everybody is standing waiting for you, you stop Nat and she quickly makes her way over to you.

“Mommy,” You say sadly.

“Hi baby girl, are you okay?” Natasha asks, you shake your head.

“He hurt me Mommy,” You say, you can see the anger boil up in her.

“Baby he will never hurt you again, I promise. I will never let you get hurt again.” Natasha says to you.

“Can we go?” You ask a little bigger, just wanting to get out of there.

“Not so fast,” You hear someone say. Wanda whips around to see an old man standing with more than 20 Hydra agents.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” He says with a sneer.

“Baby go with Clint to the jet okay,” She says as she sets you down. You shake your head.

“It’s okay I wanna help you fight,” You say now big. She sighs but lets you.

The Hydra agents come at you. You set yourself aflame and shoot fireballs from your hands at them. Steve and Tony work together to take out the agents on the left and Clint and Bucky take the ones on the right. You see Natasha fighting an agent twice her size. You see Wanda helping her by using her powers to fling him to the side of the building. You watch as your family takes down the bad guys around you.

You see the old man start to walk away and you chase after him. You shoot a fireball at him and he dodges it.

“Is that the best you can do?” He mocks with his arms in the air. Wanda comes up to you.

“I wanna try something,” You say to her.

“Okay”

“I want you and I to combine our powers to make one.” You say to her. Wanda starts with a red ball of energy in her hands. You place both your hands in her energy and act like you’re about to shoot a fireball but instead just keep it in your hands.

“You ready?” You ask Wanda, she nods her head. You both aim your powers at the old man.

“Three” You say.

“Two” Wanda says.

“One” You say together. You shoot your powers at the old man. It tangles and dances with each other beautifully. It knocks the old man out and the fire burns his body.

“Yesss!” You say jumping in the air. You hold your hand up for Wanda to highfive and she does with a laugh. You walk back hand in hand together to see that everyone has taken out all the agents. You grab Tasha’s hand.

“Can we go home now?” You say.

“Of course baby,” Natasha says. You and your family walk back to the jet. When you get home you, Wanda, and Nat go straight to your room. You take off the jacket that Wanda had given you. You hear Natasha gasp.

“Oh baby,” She says as you can see the tears well up in her eyes. You walk up to her and wipe the tears that fall on her face away.

“It’s okay, I’m okay now that I’m here with you,” You say and give her a kiss. She smiles but stands back so she can examine you. Most of the cuts Wanda had seen were small and healed now, but the purple bruises that mark your body are not.

“I’m sorry,” She says to you.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask.

“For not finding you sooner, for letting them do this to you. It’s all my fault, I was the one who suggested that Wanda and I train early if we didn’t do that then none of this would’ve happened.”

“Baby, this was not your fault, or Wanda’s fault,” You say as Wanda comes out of the bathroom.

“I’m fine now, I promise, what happened was nobody's fault and I don’t blame either of you.” You say as you kiss each of them.

“Okay,” Natasha says, dropping the subject. You yawn and it cracks your jaw and your eyes water.

“Looks like someone needs some sleep,” Wanda says as she gets into bed. You crawl in beside her and Natasha gets on the other side of you. You throw the sage love blanket over Wanda and Natasha making sure that it covered them equally. You had to lean over Wanda to unfold the blankets corner.

“What are you doing baby,” Wanda asks.

“Mm want to make sure you are nice and warm.” You say after you deem that everyone is covered by the blanket you lay down. You snuggle yourself into Wanda’s arms and lay your head on her shoulder. You sigh as Natasha holds you from behind.

“Love you guys, goodnight.”

“Love you too,” Natasha says.

“Goodnight,” Wanda says. That night you swear they hold you tighter.

#little reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x natasha #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha x you #mommy natasha #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #reader #loving a little

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writteninkat · 3 years ago

Text

Wrath | Yuji x Reader x Megumi

summary: "Come on, Megumi." Yuji presses his fingers inside your mouth, "This mouth isn't gonna fuck itself."

word count: 3k

warnings: bondage, master kink, threesome, name calling, degradation, anal

a/n: not proofread, sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes

• 100 follower event

Your husband, Yuji, has always been a gentle soul. Ever since you started dating in highschool a decade ago, he always kissed you so passionately, he held you with such care and gentleness, as if you were a porcelain doll that could break at any second.

Even during your first time when the two of you werenin college, he always placed your pleasure before and over his. He always made sure you felt good, he always peppered you with compliments and praises.

As you think back on how much your husband has done for you, you thought you should pay him back just as much. As the two of you were talking in the phone earlier, you listened as he ranted to you about how Megumi took his curse to exorcise.

He sounded pissed.

What other way to calm him down than to let him have his way with you? You let him be rough with you once or twice, what another time gonna hurt?

You dash to your closet, looking for your hidden stash of lingerie, taking out a black and red one. You put it on, scanning your eyes up and down your reflection on the body length mirror, running your hands up your thighs.

The set had matching black garters and sheer thigh highs with it, the panties a deep dark wine red, the laces all over it colored black. Same went for the push up bras, a small ruby glistening in the middle of the two cups.

Your head snaps to the sound of the front door opening, causing you to quickly run to the bed. You climb on the soft mattress, giving yourself a pat on the back for choosing a deep red color.

You sit on your heels, thighs spread wide open as you patiently wait for your husband, listening as he calls out for you, doors opening and closing as he does so. Finally, the door to your bedroom swings open, revealing your strawberry-headed husband.

His eyes widen at the lewd sight of you in lingerie, sitting on the bed, ready for him to take you. Yuji grips tightly on his jacket, jaw clenching as his eyes rake down your body, taking every inch of you in his greedy gaze.

"You sounded upset a while ago during our call..." You place your hand in the space in between your thighs, arms pressing your breasts together to make them look much bigger, giving your husband a better view.

"What about it?" Yuji's tone sounds calm, too calm for your liking. It causes a shiver to run down your spine. You trap your lower lip in between your teeth, cunt oozing with your slick at the tone of his voice.

"Do you... Do you need me? My help? To calm you down?" You look to your side, avoiding his gaze. "You don't seem like you've calmed down about it so-"

You return your gaze back to the front, eyes widening and heart thumping on your chest at the sight of your husband's face a few inches away from yours. "And how exactly do you plan on helping me, my dear?"

You lift your hand, placing it on the side of his face. Yuji closes his eyes, pressing his face even more onto your palm. "You can do whatever you want with my body tonight."

Yuji's eyes snap open, completely taken aback by your answer.

"I'm yours to play with, to use, to free of all your troubles... You're my master tonight."

It all happens in a flash. One moment you're caressing your husband's face lovingly, the next he has your hands pinned above your head, thigh pressing against your soaking panties as he looks at you with lust-filled eyes.

"Don't say things you don't mean, sweetheart. You don't know what I'm capable of." Yuji growls into your ear, he nips and nibbles at your helix, whimpers slipping past your lips at the feeling.

"I mean it." You whisper, "Why don't you show me what you're capable of? Master."

Yuji pulls away, his hands making nimble work of undoing his necktie. He wraps it around your wrists, tying it tight enough for you to be unable to let loose, but not tight enough for it to hurt. "Keep your arms up." His tone is dark and deep, it sends tingles down your thighs and you feel your cunt flutter.

He lets out a deep breath, you feel your body tingle as you watch his eyes take you in. His hands hover right above your skin, making your hair stand.

He's panting. Hard.

Finally, he presses his hands onto your skin, a satisfied breath leaving your lips as you feel him drag his calloused palms run down both sides of your thighs. He squeezes them, pulling them up and pulling your body towards him. You feel him press his clothed member against your damp panties, he grinds against you, making you moan loudly. "Mmmmmhhhh- fuck Yuji!"

He looks down at you, his jaw hanging as you watch his chest rise and fall heavily. Your hips begin doing circles on their own, desperate for any sort of friction just to ease your cunt's desire to be filled. Yuji squeezes your thighs, giving you the idea that you may or may not find bruises there by tomorrow.

"Don't move. You said you're mine to ruin tonight..." Yuji slowly lowers himself, crawling backwards to the foot of the bed. He brings his face down, hot breath fanning over your deipping cunt. "...No take backs."

He presses a finger- two fingers, onto your clothed cunt. His eyes snap up, watching as your face contorts into an expression of pleasure. Yuji begins creating circles with the tips of his fingers, massaging your folds and running them up and down your slit. He presses on your clit, making you mewl loudly.

"Haven't even touched you properly..." He hooks a finger to the side of your underwear, pushing it aside. "...But you're already so wet for me. How needy are you for me, my love?". You begin rocking your hips up and down to ease the neediness of your cunt, "Very..."

Yuji pushes two of his fingers inside your hole, the feeling having you sucking in your breath. You can feel his slender fingers against your tight walls, moving and scissoring to loosen you up. "Fuck, Yuji..." His name comes out in a whisper, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he hits your g-spot multiple times without fail.

Yuji smirks, knowing full well he's hit that particular spot. He continues pushing and rubbing on it with the tips of his fingers, pushing you over the edge of overstimulation. Your legs open even wider instinctively, wanting more of your husband.

Before you can even tell him what you want, your walls flutter arounf his fingers, soaking them up as you rock your hips back and forth to ride out your orgasm. Yuji smirks, pulling his fingers out and taking them inside his mouth, his tongue lapping up your juices and cleaning his fingers.

"Tasty... I wonder how it tastes right out of your cunt." He lowers his head in between your thighs, eyes still on you. Yuji takes out his tongue, the tip licking a long strip up your wet folds, teasing you.

"Hnnngg- Yuji..." You throw your head back, digging your head onto the soft pillows. Yuji's tongue begins pressing against your folds, thrusting in and out. His mouth starts doing quick work of sucking on your soft and soaked cunt, the slick that he isn't able to lap up come dripping down his chin messily.

Just as you feel an orgasm forming once more inside you, you hear the front door open and then shut close. The two of you still, quieting down to listening to whoever trespassed.

"Itadori?" The two of you let out a breath of relief at the sound of Megumi's voice and not some random stranger's. "Look man, I came to apologize. I know you wanted to exorcise that curse and I took the chance from you. Can we please talk this out?" Megumi yells, his voice loud enough to resonate all throughout the apartment.

Yuji looks at you with his brow raised slightly, eyes glimmering in mischief. "You said I could do whatever i wanted with your tonight, right?" He asks and you nod your head, heart thumping in anticipation of whatever plan he has in his head.

"Bedroom." Yuji yells, your eyes widening as he smirks mischievously at you. He returns back to his meal, thrusting his tongue inside your velvety walls as you feel your orgasm slowly creep towards you.

The bedroom door flies open and there, Megumi stands, shocked. Yuji turns around, "You may have done a better job than me at work, but I can do better in bed." He sticks three fingers inside your cunt, stretching you out even more.

"Yuji-"

"What about it, Megumi? Prove me wrong. If you can pleasure my wife better than I can tonight, I'll let our problem pass." Yuji offers, fingers still pumping inside your walls.

"That doesn't make any sense-" You're cut off when Yuji presses against your g-spot, a moan ripping from your throat instead. Yuji turns back around at Megumi, tilting his head to the side. "Come on man, stop being a pussy and fuck my wife the way you want to. I see how you look at her."

Your eyes widen, Megumi has been looking at you?. The thought of his hungry eyes running up and down your body, wild thoughts invading his head and the possibility of being able to get him hard... "Oh, fuck!" You moan loudly as an orgasm rips through you, the thought of being able to be such a vixen for Megumi pushing you off.

Yuji's eyes widen at you cumming suddenly. It takes a moment for him to piece the two together but as soon as he does, he's grinning like a madman. "You saw that 'Gumi? She came just from the thought of you fucking her." Yuji laughs, pulling his fingers out of your cunt, manhandling you so your head was now on the foot of the bed, hanging as your glassy eyes looked over at Megumi. He looked hungry.

You hear Yuji unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. He pumps himself a few times, taking some slick from your wet folds to serve as lubricant. He pushes his length inside you, making sure you take every single inch of him until your cunt is pressed against his pelvis.

"Come on, Megumi." Yuji presses his fingers inside your mouth, "This mouth isn't gonna fuck itself."

Yuji begins thrusting inside you and you let out loud moansas your eyes roll back, your whole body feeling like it's on cloud9 given that you just finished two orgasms. By the time you open your eyes back, they widen as you're greeted by the sight of Megumi holding his cock out right in front of you. You feel your mouth water at the sight, your tongue lolling out instinctively, silently asking for it.

"See? She wants this. Such a fucking slut." Yuji thrusts deeply and roughly at every word, making you moan loudly. Megumi pushes his cock against your tongue, sucking in a breath as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting his precum.

You suck on the tip, tongue doing sloppy work of the blowjob since your hands are immobilized. Megumi takes you by the back of your head, pushing his length inside you. You're barely taken half of him and your mouth is already so full. You want more.

"She likes it when you go down her throat. Don't you, whore?" You feel yourself getting closer at every degrading name Yuji calls you. Megumi pushes himself even deeper, you feel his cock reaching your throat. The dark haired man watches as his cock go deeper down your throat. His breath hitches and he stays in there for a moment, completely mesmerized by the sight of his cock protruding under your skin. You swallow around him, the contractions pushing him over the edge, causing him to release inside your throat.

He pulls away quickly and you gasp for air, panting heavily. "Show him your mouth, doll." You open your mouth at Yuji's command, showing Megumi no trace of his cum inside you.

"Y/n..." Megumi whispers under his breath, watching as Yuji pulls you towards him. He sits you on his lap, your head dizzy from giving Megumi head. Yuji thrusts inside you, the new position causing him to go even deeper than before. "Why don't you invite our good friend over there?" Yuji whispers into your ear and you turn your head to the side, giving Megumi a sight of your fucked-out expression. Glass eyes, a flushed face and glistening lips from his cum.

You point at him, your palm facing up. You curl your finger a few times, motioning for him to 'come here'. He does as told, quietly crawling behind you. Megumi presses his dick against your cheeks, squeezing them both and letting out a moan.

"She has two holes for a reason, no?" Yuji smirks, pressing his lips against yours, tasting Megumi in your tongue. As the two of your tongue slide against each other, Megumi creeps his hand in between your thighs, gathering slick from where you and Yuji are connected.

He pushes a lubricated finger inside your hole, the new sensation making you moan loudly. You've done it with your husband one or two times from behind, but you've never gotten used at the feeling.

Megumi wastes no time in adding another finger, stretching out your hole before pumping himself once more, using his precum as lubricant. He aligns himself on your hole, slowly pushing himself inside as you moan loudly.

Yuji takes your legs by the bottom of your thighs, easily carrying you off the bed as he thrusts himself inside you. Megumi's face contirts into something of pleasure and annoyance, his hands grabbing the underside of your thighs as well to get a better grip of you.

Your head spins at the feeling of two large cocks thrusting inside you, using your two holes greedily. You look up, thanking the heavens for letting you feel this new type of pleasure.

You place one hand on your husband's shoulder as the other hooks around Megumi's neck, your palm on his nape as you rest your head on his shoulder. You let your tongue hang out your mouth, spit dripping from your tongue as your eyes cross, your mouth pulled into a wide, open smile as you feel yourself nearing yet another orgasm.

Yuji looks at your fucked-out expression, eyes widening. "Such a fucking slut, making such a face. You like it when my best friend fucks you in the ass?" Yuji growls, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

"You're taking my best friend's cock so well. Are you that greedy for it?" Megumi's tone sounds deep, dangerous and cold as he pounds into your ass, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you.

"You gonna cum on this cock you slut?" The two of them yell at the same time, causing your head to grow foggy as your orgasm slowly reach you. You can't help but nod, not able to find the right words to answer them.

"You're being fucked dumb by two men right now, you like it so much don't you?" Yuji has the widest grin you've ever seen on him. "I think she does, Yuj. She's just /that/ greedy for cock." Megumi smirks licking your ear.

"Cum..." You whimper, "I wanna... wanna cum..." You say, your energy slowly melting away. "Alright then," Yuji mutters, angling himself so he'll be pushing against your g-spot as he thrusts into you.

"Cum." Their voices together causes a shiver down your spine, your holes greedily milking their cocks as you moan loudly, voice resonating around the apartment. Megumi's eyebrows knit together as Yuji's face contorts into pleasure, their thrusts never stopping, letting you ride out your orgasm. Once you finish, the two of them shoot their cum inside you, your insides feeling heavily hot with their releases.

The three of you stay quiet for a moment, catching your breaths before you feel yourself slowly submit to the darkness. The last thing you see is Yuji leaning in to press a kiss against your lips as Megumi's lips press against your neck.

You wake up with a tshirt on, too big for you so your mind immediately thinks of Yuji. You smile, turning to your right, only for it to fall as you see a shirtless Megumi sleeping there. You begin to panic- did you cheat on your husband? Where the hell is Yuji?

You turn to your left, eyebrows raising at the sight of also a shirtless Yuji there, sleeping soundly. Your eyebrows furrow and you try to recollect the events of last night.

Yuji's anger.

Yuji eating you out.

Megumi's apology.

Yuji sharing you with Megumi.

Yuji fucking your cunt.

Megumi fucking your ass.

A deep shade of red litters your face as you bury it in your blanket, your shuffling causing for the two men to wake up. They sit up, rubbing their sleepy eyes as they look at you.

"Good morning." They greet together with a bright smile.

Oh God, these boys will be the cause of your insanity.

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#itadori smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuji #itadori x you #itadori x y/n #itadori x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x y/n #megumi x you

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Brown Eyes [Din Djarin x Reader]

!! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 15, SEASON 2. !!

*Hi. The episode has been out for three hours. The devil works hard but I work harder. I hope you enjoy! xx*

Summary: Din has always wanted to confess his love to you— but with his devotion to the Creed and with the risk of losing you, he wonders if the revelation would really be worth it. Would you even consider being with him if he refused to remove his helmet? When Grogu is taken away from Din and in the fiendish hands of Moff Gideon, Din realises there isn't anything he won't do to get his son back.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety, *SPOILERS FOR Season 2 Episode 15: The Believer of The Mandalorian*

Word count: 2.6k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos

Masterlist

gif credit: @siennablake

"Din," you froze up, backing away from the Imperial who was sitting at a table drinking caf. "I- I can't do it."

Din's head snapped to face you, masked by the Imperial Shocktrooper helmet he was doting. "Why not?" His voice was firm, but the tone of his question dripped with concern. You bawled your fingers into a fist as you squeezed your eyes tight shut, beginning to anxiously pace around in circles.

"That's Valen Hess," you muttered, trying your hardest to regulate your nervous breathing. "He- I used to serve under him. I- can't… go in there. Din, he'll recognise me." the thoughts in your head were jumbled. Din placed two hands steady on your shoulders.

"I'll go, hand me the dataspike." Din told you calmly. You felt like putty under his touch. Usually, his firm grip would calm you down and ease any of your troubles away— but not this time. You felt completely nauseated.

Grogu was at stake. When you met the Mandalorian, it took him some time to find the confidence in introducing you to the child. You were Ex-Imperial after all. But he warmed up to you, seeing the way you cared so deeply for the children on Sorgan. When he introduced you to the little green bean, who did not yet have a name, you were enamoured. That's when Din knew he was in love with you. Ever since that day, he'd only fallen in love with you more and more. His feelings became stronger with every waking second he spent with you.

Of course, he never acted on his feelings. He wished he had, he wished he could say something. He knew that if something happened to you and you didn't know how he truly felt, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. There had been countless times where you and him brushed paths on the Razor Crest. Plenty of times to say something, plenty of times to mutter the three words that had consumed his mind, body and soul. ‘I love you’. The words were like a broken record in the back of his mind. He looked at you through his visor, seeing your distress and his heart aching and he wanted— no, he had to do something.

His son had been kidnapped and suddenly, Din was an unstoppable force. Nothing could hold him back— not his friends, not the Creed, nothing. The regret ate him up like flies on a corpse. If there was one thing he learned from Grogu's disappearance, is that you never know what is coming around the corner. Din began to treat everyday with you like it was your last because there was no way of telling what the future was holding. And that only stirred him on, the desire of telling you how much you meant to him.

"You can't go," you removed your finger from your lips where you had been anxiously biting your nails. "The security system is biometric facial recognition. There must be another way." you tried to rack your brain for a solution, but Din's mind was already made up.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes in search for an answer. You steadied your breathing. "Din," you whispered. "What if we distract them? You go in there and speak to him so he's looking the other way and I'll use that moment to sneak past and access the terminal."

No answer. "Din?" you asked, cautiously opening your eyes. He was already gone. Your mouth began to open and close like a goldfish as you watched his approach the terminal. He paused, midway between two tables, shakily saluting Valen Hess. Din turned back to the terminal, held his head up high and carried on over to it.

Upon examining it, Din found it was no different to any other information point— whether it had been New Republic or Independent, Din was lucky enough to already know how to navigate the system. He clicked a few buttons on the keypad, bringing up the facial recognition scanner. He stood still, letting it roam down his face. He didn't have much faith, but it was worth a shot.

Din cursed under his breath as the scanner light lit up red, beeping ecstatically.

"Error. Error. Facial scanning incomplete. Ten seconds until system shutdown." An automated voice informed. Din felt a few gazes burn into his back, no doubt Valen Hess noticing the commotion. "Ten, nine, eight-"

You watched as the timer went down, your hand fingers curling around the blaster in your holster. You didn't know what Din was going to, but you knew if anything— he was a man with a plan.

And that was when he removed his helmet.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, it took the air from your lungs leaving you gasping in silence. You felt like a criminal, looking at him with your own eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't tear the gaze from the back of his head.

Brown hair. Dark brown hair, slightly messy from the helmet. Although you were some distance away, you noticed the little waves and the way it curled at the nape of his neck. The cut of the Imperial armour revealed just a sliver of his skin. It was golden tan— surprising to you.

"Facial scanning complete." The dataspike ejected from the terminal, a small light lit up in green, validating that the information had been processed and Din was now the owner of Moff Gideon’s co-ordinates. Just as he was about to put his helmet back on, a voice interrupted him.

Your heart sank when you saw that Valen Hess had approached Din.

"Trooper, where are you stationed?"

"Transportation."

"What?"

"My designation is transport— co-pilot."

"No son, what's your TK number?"

Din felt his throat dry up as he looked the man in the eyes. Valen Hess stared at Din right back, looking into the eyes that nobody had gazed into since Din had been sworn to the Creed. Din swallowed the lump in his throat, only for it to return immediately.

"He's with me." you announced, walking over to Din and Hess. A wash of relief shuttled through Din's body upon hearing your voice, but that was completely blown away when he realised you had seen him. It was true, you had seen his face— but there was no time to act up. Din had sacrificed everything for Grogu and you weren't going to let this go wrong. "This is my trooper, sir."

"Who is he and what's his TK number?" Valen Hess repeated, clicking his tongue between his teeth.

"This is my commanding officer TK-0402, and I'm TK-0322. I'm afraid he doesn't speak much. Ever since his vessel lost pressure on Tanaab." You explained with confidence, sighing apologetically and placing a hand on your hip.

Din found the courage to look at you, making brief yet bewildered glances between you and Valen Hess. He had a thousand questions but he knew he could trust you, and so, he smiled wearily, nodding his head in agreement to your little story.

"What's his name?" Hess inquired.

You took a deep breath, and turned to face Din. He looked at you too, his face softening as your eyes met for the very first time. You felt your heart rate slow down as you took in his appearance. You were nervous, and tensions were high, but as you looked into the Mandalorian's sparkling eyes, you felt a familiar sense of belonging. You felt complete.

"Brown eyes." you whispered, feeling the tears pool up as you tried to choke back a sob. Din smiled at you, just a small smile, but enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle. It gave you the reassurance to know that this was all worth it.

"Well, brown eyes," Valen Hess adjusted his belt. "You troopers were both on the transport that brought in the valium, correct? The only surviving shocktroopers, might I add." he grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah, that was us." You answered hesitantly.

"Please, come join me for drinks. We must celebrate." Hess said, approaching the table he was originally sat at and ushering you over with an exaggerated gesture.

You and Din exchanged a look before walking over to the table and sinking down into the chair. Hess poured out two cups of caf and slid them over. Din stayed silent for most of the conversation, briefly making utterances of affirmation and nodding his head to suggest that he was indeed listening.

Although, he wasn't listening really. His mind was racing and he couldn't concentrate on anything. Although it wasn't necessarily true, he felt like every head in the room was looking at him. Staring at him. Judging him breaking his oath. Was he a failure? Was he a disgrace to the Creed? Dishonourable? A monster?

"I could blather on 'to health' or 'to success', but… tell me TK-0322, where do you come from?"

"Alderaan." you said without hesitation. Din looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, wondering why exactly you had given Hess the details of your real planet.

"Ah, I see…" Hess frowned. "Well, to Alderaan!" he grinned, raising his glass in the air.

"No." you deadpanned and Hess shot you a confused look.

"No?"

"No." you repeated. "Alderaan was a peaceful planet destroyed by the Empire."

"And those on the Death Star, those who aided in the destruction of Alderaan became heroes of the Empire. I was there." he said with pride.

Din watched your face harden as your cheeks burned up with rage. "Heroes?" you croaked out. "For attacking and murdering innocents? Hundreds of thousands of people died on Alderaan. I lost my family."

"Losing the ones we love is simply part of life," Hess revealed with a sigh— and Din felt his heart shatter at his words. He stiffened up, his gaze fixating on the concrete wall as his surroundings began to faze out.

"At what cost?" you whispered. "You know, every day I think about it. I wished there was something I could do to stop it. But no, I was here, fighting for the Empire. While the Empire was out killing my people." You gritted out as tears pricked your eyes. You felt Dins hand manouver under the table and take place on your thigh, as his gloved fingers rubbed comforting circles into the thin material that covered your skin. His hand was large, fitting around your leg perfectly. He held you down, stopping your anxious shaking and you immediately calmed down. Din wasn't going to stop you, but he did want you to not let your feelings intrude on what was really happening right now. Valen Hess, however, looked mortified. You picked up the glass and forced a smile. Din copied your movement and you clinked your glass with his. "To family." you toast, and Din smiles. He smiles so wide a dimple appears in his cheek.

"To family." he confirms, thinking about his son and how close he was to getting him back.

You put the glass of caf back down on the table and quickdrew your blaster, shooting Valen Hess in the chest.

Din knew better than to question you. He took out his own pistol and helped you take down the remaining troopers and Imps in the room before you both raced out of the base.

Of course, you knew that there'd be commotion. You heard the TIE fighter engines as soon as you stepped foot outside. Din grabbed your hand, pulling you along as you both sprinted into the depths of the forest. Once deep enough, you looked up. It was dark, strings of light beaming through the gaps in the trees. But it was enough to illuminate Din. You had envisioned what Din looked like beneath his beskar helmet every single day, and now, you had your answer.

Din took one look at you. He pulled off his leather gloves, dropping them to the ground and placed his hand on your cheek. Subconsciously, you leaned into the warmth of his palm as his fingers tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes, humming in delight as his bodily warmth transferred to you.

"Din, when we return to the ship you can put your helmet back on. I never saw you." you promised, your voice barely above a whisper and your eyes remaining closed.

"Cyare," Din mumbled, his heart yearning. The pad of his thumb traced your face, following the height of your cheek bones and the arch of your eyebrows and down your nose. "Open your eyes." he requested. Cautiously, you obeyed, your eyes fluttering open as you drunk in his appearance once more.

Brown stubble with a patch of grey graced the lower portion of his face. You reached out, this time your own hand cupping his cheek. Din didn't let go of you, and he let you touch him. Your finger nervously brushed over the coarse hairs and you let out a small giggle as you remembered him telling you from the Fresher room on the Razor Crest that he was going to shave. He had, and now you could see for yourself that it had started growing back.

"Do… do you like what you see?" Din asked nervously, his gaze only temporarily lifting from yours.

You nodded your head. "I do," you admitted. "You're… so handsome."

Din felt his cheeks heat up as you watched the small blush creep upon his face. You were enthralled, seeing him like this. Seeing his humanity— his emotions and expressions. You knew you loved Din, with or without the helmet— but this confirmed everything.

"May I?" Din asked, leaning into you slowly and closing his eyes. The curve of his nose bumped against yours as and the softness of his lips touched you so delicately.

You mumbled a small 'yes' and as your lips parted, Din kissed you. Soft, sweet, but passionate and with heart. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging at it and encouraging Din to kiss you deeper and further. He done so, willingly, a groan of pleasure escaping his mouth and vibrating through your body.

He pulled away eventually, breathless and his eyes dark and glazed. "I-I…" he was speechless, looking at you with the utmost adoration. "I love you." He sighed in defeat, knowing now was a better time than any to admit his true feelings. He had to do it one day, and it just so happened to be in the depths of a forest as you hid from Imperials.

"I love you too." you exhaled shakily, thrusting forward into his arms and letting him hold you tight to his chest. He pressed a kiss into your hair.

"I love you so much." Din sobbed, his grip around you tightening like he was afraid that if he let go, you'd vanish just like Grogu did. "Please, never leave me. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere Din," you promised. "Now c’mon, let's go get Grogu."

PART TWO

#the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season 2

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oreoambitions · 4 years ago

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Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Ao3 Kara has been away for too long. This is what she thinks to herself as she hovers over the edge of National City's furthest flung suburb, her eyes on the horizon, her hands doing a rather unsuperherolike fidget of their own accord. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. A couple of days maybe. Long enough to cool down, to get her anger under control, to make sure that Lena would never have to see her like... that. Only a couple of days has become a couple of weeks and now Kara doesn't know how to come home. "Rao," she whispers. Immediately she feels foolish - as if Rao has answered her these past weeks - but in her solitude she's grown used to speaking in prayer, and so she finishes the thought anyway. "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" Probably her life is in shambles. Probably she's been fired from CatCo and there are a stack of unpaid bills cluttering up the mailbox of an apartment that probably doesn't belong to her anymore. That's going to be a mess to sort out and there's no getting around it. And then there are the personal relationships she's abruptly abandoned for a month and a half without explanation. Alex will be worried sick, and angry, and rightfully so. What will J'onn say? Nia? Clark? And then there's Lena. Kara's hand moves to the thin red thread would tightly around her wrist. Ever so gently, careful not to wear it thinner still, she brushes her fingers over it. She'll have to talk to Lena. Soon. Today. The thought makes her stomach twist and seize and roil with feelings she has hardly begun to name, let alone master, but Rao, if she stays away until she's mastered them all she's starting to think she might stay away for a lifetime. But at least the anger is under control. That's the most important thing, because the truth is there is no returning to National City, no returning to Lena, without facing Sam. It's doubly true now that Sam has taken up the cape to protect the city that Kara has come to think of as her own. She has to admit, however begrudgingly, that Sam has done a good job. The city below is peaceful in that loud, chaotic way that cities have about them in the late afternoon: a dog shouts out on 4th street; someone's car won't start on Tulare; highschool students pour out of a bus downtown full of the laughter and the posturing of youth. All is well. Certainly things are better than Kara has any right to expect them to be, and that's on Sam. Sam, who made headlines when she stepped in to make it clear that Supergirl's absence would not be taken advantage of. Sam, who said she'd never wear the cape because she was afraid of what it would mean for Ruby. Sam, who should have rightly been on Argo right now claiming her birthright and her heritage. Sam, who had an obligation to protect Lena and chose to bind her irrevocably to Kara in a marriage of obligation instead. Perhaps the anger is not so under control after all, but up here there's no one to see Kara's eyes flash or her fist clench, no one to hear her heartrate pick up or the sharp breath she forces out between her teeth. Up here it's okay. It's only down there she has to worry about control. But first before control, before the appearance of reconciliation, before Kara figures out how to get Sam on board with the plan she's hatched for finding Lena a way out of this mess, first before anything, Kara is going to have to talk to Alex. Hell hath no fury like an older sister abruptly abandoned and left to fret and worry for nothing, and the longer Kara puts this off the worse it's going to be. She takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that life came with a rewind.

There isn't really any such thing as taking the long way when you're a Kryptonian under Earth's yellow sun, but Kara makes an effort. She loops around the city twice, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it will be if she runs into Sam out here doing a similar patrol. She hovers over the L-Corp building long enough to determine that Lena is, in fact, not at work on a Saturday — probably Jess's doing, for which she’s grateful. Then she drifts gently to Alex's neighborhood, to her street, to the fire escape, to the back window always unlatched when Kara is on patrol just in case Supergirl should need to stop by unseen. Kara, of course, is not so much on patrol as officially missing, so she hesitates there on the fire escape before reaching out to tug gently gently gently on the window. It's almost a surprise when it slides open. Alex is home but the shower is running and Kara, feeling an odd sort of nervousness wash over her, slips through the window quietly. Maybe it would have been better to come through the front door, or to call ahead, or maybe it would be better to announce herself now, but now she's here trembling in Alex's kitchen and she's let herself in this way a hundred times and it's always been okay. Only this time it's different, and all Kara can think about is how angry Alex is going to be when she sees her and- The bathroom door flies open and Alex comes barreling out into the kitchen in a towel, dripping wet, the shower still running behind her. They stand there for a moment, Kara rubbing the edge of her cape between her fingers, Alex stock still as though she's seen a ghost. "Kara," she breaths. And then, "Shit, I'm sorry. Let me-" She reaches for the cupboard, then the fridge, then steps back. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Kara says. She draws in a deep breath to spit out the explanation she's rehearsed a hundred times: I'm sorry but I was losing control and you have to understand that Sam and Lena were together the whole time and I was jealous, so jealous, but I was mostly so angry that Lena trusted her and then she put her into this awful position with the vows, and it put me in an awful position too, and I just couldn't stay and I- But Alex is nodding. "Let me just put a shirt on, okay? Don't- Just don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Two seconds." She starts down the hall and then turns back, her fingers up for emphasis. "Two seconds." It's more like forty seconds and the shower is still running and Kara is too uncomfortable to fetch anything from the fridge. All her rehearsed words have died in her throat and she's left standing there teasing a thread out of the edge of the cape and feeling like somehow this is all wrong. Kara’s imagined this encounter a thousand times but never like this, and to compound it all, something in this place has shifted. Maybe it's just the time Kara's been away but something here feels... different. Forty seconds isn't long enough to put a finger on it and Alex is back in the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers and demanding a hug before Kara can quite track what's changed. There's an almost physical relief when Alex collides with her and for a few seconds all else is forgotten. "Are you mad at me?" she whispers into Alex's hair. "Yeah," Alex whispers back. "But it can wait." And then, as she pulls away, "Cocoa?" Alex doesn't wait for an answer. She's busy at the stove in an instant, milk out on the counter, hot chocolate mix out of a glass bottle measured by the heaping quarter cup, and Kara's offers of assistance are shooed away with a gesture so reminiscent of Eliza that she might have giggled if she hadn't been feeling slightly sick. She settles into a chair at the kitchen table instead. The cape has found its way between her fingers again; that loose thread is becoming more prominent by the minute. Then the shower shuts off and Kara glances up at Alex. "Is someone else here? I'm so sorry, am I interrupting? I can go if-" Alex silences her with a hand. "It's fine. You're not interrupting. It's just... it's my girlfriend." "Girlfriend?" The guilt sickens Kara a little further. She's been gone too long. She's missed too much. "Actually," Alex says, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the milk on the stove, "I was meaning to talk to you about it before everything happened with the wedding. It wasn't official but we'd been intimate - sorry, TMI, I know - and I thought it might be going some place. But then with everything happening it never felt like the right time, and now..." "Well who is she?" This explains, at least, what feels different about the apartment. And it seems obvious now that Kara knows what she's looking for: an extra pair of shoes by the front door, a jacket over the back of the couch that doesn't belong to Alex. But it's familiar. A jacket Kara's seen before, now that she's thinking about it. "Do I know her?" "Yeah. Actually, we should probably talk about-" Sam steps into the kitchen slowly, so softly that human ears might not have picked up her approach. She's wearing one of Alex's long sleeved tees pulled down too far over her hands, an anxious gesture Kara has seen mirrored in Lena a thousand times, and it sends an instant flash of something awful through her chest. "Hi Kara," Sam says softly. The rage hits Kara before her mind can catch up. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were- Which means- The kitchen table cracks under Kara's fingers but the words don't come. What is she supposed to say? Hi Alex, I really missed you, by the way your girlfriend is possibly cheating on you with my wife who, funny story, is only actually married to me because your girlfriend manipulated her into a binding religious marriage, potentially in order to free herself up so that she could be official with you. Any chance she's mentioned any of that? No? What comes out of her mouth is: "How dare you." Sam crosses her arms, those sleeves still pulled down around her fingers, takes another step into the kitchen. "I think I know what this looks like," she says. "And it's not. It's not what you think." Kara doesn't know what she thinks. Something about Sam's anxiety and the confusion on Alex's face is sounding an alarm, and it’s an alarm that sounds an awful lot like doubt, but the anger is louder. Anger, in Kara's recent experience, is always louder. And now it's building behind her eyes, and she knows it shows because Sam starts to move between her and Alex and somehow that makes it all worse because now it's the shame that's louder and Kara can hardly hear her own thoughts over all that noise. "I have to go," she chokes out. "I'm sorry. Alex, I-" I'll call, she wants to say. "I'm sorry," she says instead. She can smell the milk burning on the stove as she leaves, can hear Alex calling after her, demanding Sam go after her, demanding she come back. "Let her go," Sam murmurs. Kara passes out of earshot. Well, not really. But she's got enough distance that she can put it out of her head. Enough distance that she can, if she chooses, listen to nothing but the wind, and her shame, and the hammering of her own heart.

#packing can wait #THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE #interpersonal drama is NOT my forte #Fake Marriage AU

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years ago

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Too Late (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @fuchsiagrasshopper's 200 Followers Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, love 💝

This is a variation on Ivar's death. Consider yourself warned. And... sorry 😔

The prompt, from the song Too Late, by Ashes Divides, is in bold and italics.

@zuxiezendler - Thank you for reassuring me (I needed it) and for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Ivar is about to go to war against Alfred. His eyes are very blue, though.

Warnings: major character death; mention of blood and fatal wound (nothing graphic).

Words: 1815

When a hand lingers on his forehead, Ivar slowly opens his eyes before shifting in the makeshift bed and eventually sitting upright, allowing you to take a seat next to him. Looking at him with concern, you tilt your head to the side, one of your hands resting lightly on his chest while the other grazes his thigh.

Studying him, you bite your lower lip. "Your eyes have turned deep blue, Ivar. You know what that means, remember?" Ivar snorts and then rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed. You don't stop, though. "Hvitserk told me. Your brothers used to watch over you. They knew that when your eyes turned blue that you were in great danger of breaking your bones. And they would say 'Not today, Ivar. Not today.'"

Knitting his brow, your lover wearily rubs a filthy hand over his face, his eyes never leaving yours. "I remember." He finally nods, a half-smile curling his lips. "I know."

"You could let Hvitserk take command, Ivar. You'd stay behind, for once. I could even stay with you." You know you're walking on eggshells, but when Ivar answers, there's surprisingly no anger in his voice. Though the calm determination in his gaze tells you that arguing is pointless.

"No, Y/N." He shakes his head and grabs your hand, playing absently with your fingers. "No," he repeats, "Hvitserk must lead the back-up troops, it has to be someone I trust. As for you, I need you on the battlefield. You're our best shieldmaiden, and you know that. And...", he tilts his head, lightly shrugging, "I don't think we can defeat Alfred if I'm not there too... You know..." He taps his forehead with his pointer finger and you know exactly what he means. He's right. His men are fearsome warriors, but they sometimes – most of the time – need guidance when fighting, and who else could do that better than Ivar, with his cunning and extraordinary strategic mind?

No. He won't change his mind.

For the briefest moment, you think you should tell him. But no. It wouldn't change anything. You're not deluding yourself, he'd still go. And he'd demand that you stay behind. And that's not happening. It's an option you refuse to even consider. If he goes, you go. That's who you are. Both of you. A king – a warrior – and a shieldmaiden.

You'll tell him afterwards. Once it's all over. Once Alfred is defeated.

"Okay, then." Leaning in, you give him a peck on the lips before standing up. "Promise you'll be careful."

Flashing you a reassuring yet tired smile, he nods. "I always am."

The battle rages for hours now and you know you should feel it in your bones. The pain. The exhaustion. But you don't. Unharmed and powerful, a shield in your left hand, it's like you're flying, dodging blow after blow, slicing throat after throat, driving your trustworthy sword into chests or guts, as you slash your way through the enemies. Exhilarated, you shout war cries and you know that if they are cathartic to you, they scare the Saxon soldiers. The thought makes you laugh – and indeed a crazy laugh escapes your throat as you run forward, swinging your blade from side to side, momentarily crouching down as an axe flies over your head.

Attacking a Saxon with your shield, you beat him savagely with repeated blows to his skull before skewering him with your sword. As he falls to the ground, already dead, you look up to the sky for a second, and silently thank the gods, a beaming smile adorning your face. You love that. You're never more alive than on the battlefield. As you lower your gaze, eager to slaughter more and more Christians, your eyes catch something on the left.

And it's like the world stops spinning.

Like your heart stops beating.

And you stop breathing.

Petrified, you can't comprehend what you're seeing. It doesn't make sense. It can't make sense. Why is this Saxon stabbing Ivar? How can it be? Why isn't your lover fighting back? Why is he bleeding? Your shield and sword slipping out of your hands, the ringing in your ears is suddenly deafening, and for a fleeting second, you think you might throw up. But you won't. Because that can't be real. You're hallucinating, for sure. It can't be happening. It doesn't make sense. It can't. It simply can't.

A sudden cry of pain and the distinctive and all too familiar sound of a broken bone snap you out of your stupor and you rush over to your lover – 'Not today, Ivar, not today, no' – dropping to the ground next to him, your hand grazing his cheek. As you see the state he's in – his left leg unnaturally bent at the knee with exposed bone; his stomach covered with blood – a shiver runs down your spine and you gasp, filled with horror. You want to cry, and scream, and shout but instead you inhale deeply, blinking several times before locking eyes with his bloodied ones. Your man needs you.

"I'm here, Ivar, I'm here." As you carefully place his head on your lap, his hand grabs your arm, squeezing it. His eyelids flutter as he tries to focus his gaze on you. Weakly raising his free hand, he fails to touch your face and something between a sob and a whine escapes his lips. Gently intertwining his fingers with yours, you can't help but repeat yourself. "I'm here, my love, I'm here."

A faint shake of his head and then he speaks, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper. "You... You should leave... Leave, Y/N.." He swallows painfully, and a sob chokes in your throat as you see blood running out of his mouth. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, but Ivar, your stubborn lover, keeps speaking, mustering all his strength. "Leave, my love, you're... not safe... here..." He then lets out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip on your arm.

Raising your head and looking around, you see that your fellow warriors are gone. Someone, Haakon probably – you always saw Ivar's second in command as a coward – must have sounded the retreat, now that their king is down. You don't have time to dwell on it though as you realize that the two of you are now surrounded by Saxon soldiers, their swords pointed at you. You coldly glare at them for a few brief seconds before meeting King Alfred's gaze. The Saxon commander seems shocked as he looks with wide open eyes at the man lying in front of you.

"Lower your weapons!" You barely hear Alfred's order, your mind taken with other thoughts, and you don't bother to see if his soldiers obey. The truth is, Alfred and his men are the least of your concerns right now. No matter what happens, no matter what they do, you're not going anywhere.

Once more, giving your undivided attention to your lover, you shake your head, speaking with conviction and determination. "I'm not leaving your side, my love."

Ivar frowns and winces. "I want you to... be safe..." He mutters with great effort, clearly in terrible pain. "It makes... no difference if... if you stay. I'm..." He squeezes his eyes shut, and you're suddenly aware of how pale he is, his hand on your arm now ice cold. He eventually speaks again, his breathing ragged and shallow. "I'm going to... die anyway. Y/N," his voice is choked, and your eyes are full of tears, "I'm...dying."

He's right. He's dying. There's no denying it. As heartbreaking as this thought may be, it is no less true. You've been in enough battles, seen enough fatal injuries to not delude yourself. With a wound that bad, there's no chance of survival. Absolutely none. You know it won't take long.

But it doesn't change a single thing. How could you leave him here, in this foreign land, surrounded by strangers – by enemies? How could you? You don't want to be safe, you want to be with him, as long as you can.

You may not be able to save him, but you can be there. You want to be there.

I will not lose you to a world that doesn't care

To the monsters that would have you.

Your hand cups his face as you swallow thickly, blinking back tears. "And I want to be here. I won't leave you alone." The pain in your heart is such that you can hardly speak. Taking the deepest breath you can, you then bite your inner cheek so hard that you can taste the blood in your mouth. "You're not alone, my love. You don't have to face this alone."

Ivar's eyes are closed, and for a moment, you're not sure he heard you. If you're being honest, you're not sure he's still there with you, even if he's still breathing.

But then, his eyelids flutter open, revealing glassy eyes. There's no more light in them; no more fight. "Not today..." He mumbles, despair clear in his voice. And suddenly his face crumples and his eyes are full of tears and you can almost physically feel the panic coursing through his battered body. When he speaks, sobbing very hard, it's to say what you never thought you'd hear him say, his voice as shaky as your hand on his face.

"I'm afraid."

It rips your heart out.

"I'm afraid."

It tears you to pieces.

"I'm afraid."

It destroys you.

You hiccup, a hand moving to cover your mouth. You want to take his pain away, you want to die and let him live. Your head is spinning, you're dying from the inside, you're not sure you can do it, but you have to. You know you have to.

So, gathering the courage you thought you didn't have, you nod. With tears rolling down your face, you swallow hard and say, "I won't tell anyone." Shaking with long, racking sobs, you try to smile. "No one will ever forget Ivar the Boneless. And I will never forget you, my love."

The fear in his haunted eyes almost unbearable, you can just soothe him, a reassuring hand on his cheek. Your tears join his, splashing on his face as you whisper again and again. "You're not alone, my love... I'm right here, next to you... You're not alone..." Sliding your arm under his head, you clumsily lie down next to him, curling your limbs around his body, cradling him.

Never surrender you, I always be there

I will be there to wrap myself around you.

And then, with a last gasp, your lover stops breathing.

And your whole world just shatters around you over and over and over...

Time loses all meaning.

You can't move.

Can't think.

Can't cry.

Can't feel.

He's gone.

And you realize you never had a chance to tell him...

He's gone.

Tagging: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @fuchsiagrasshopper

#fuchsiagrasshopper200 #ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine

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