#i don’t think she’s too concerned with serious injury that can be fixed with a literal wave of someone’s wand

[takeariskao3]

I could see Molly Weasley is going to throw a fit at the quidditch league for not taking proper measurements to ensure their players safety. We’re talking about mama bear here. Then she’s going to get George to make a prototype helmet and make Harry endorse it. The woman is smart and knows how to play her cards right. When Ginny throws a fit she’s going to say that she simply asked them and they agreed enthusiastically, only Prewett women don’t ask, they tell (Ginny knows this because she’s lowkey like that too).

okay but if ginny hadn’t been so lethargic… and been hit by the bludger in practice in the first place… then they never would’ve found the parasite in ginny’s brain… so is quidditch really at fault here……….

[twilight-vivi]

That Song 🥀☁️

Legend x Healer!Reader

Somehow you know the Ballad of the Windfish and it gets Legend emotional…

———————————————————————

Here they are, back in Wild’s Hyrule. Everything was going fine until they were ambushed by some silver bokoblins.

For the most part everyone was okay… well except for Hyrule. Unfortunately the traveler was practically headbutt by one of the silver monsters. His injuries looked serious and it did hurt like hell.

“I have a friend that can help!” Wild said frantically, looking down at his groaning friend. He saw that some blood was staining his tunic.

“I can… I can fix it…” Hyrule replied while holding his stomach..

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Time sighed. “If his friend can help, then let them. Plus, it’s getting dark. We need to settle down.”

“Where’s your friend?” Legend asked while helping his friend up. “I don’t want this one dying on me.”

“Well… I’m not sure what part of the forest we’re in…?” Wild said while looking around. “Well actually… I think—….”

“You think?!”

Well Usually you know she’s close if you hear singing. She has a nice—”

Legend didn’t listen to whatever he was saying, instead was drawn to a voice. A voice singing a familiar tune. Twilight took hold of Hyrule as Legend seemed distracted.

“Legend?” Time looked concerned as the other was slowly wandering in the direction of the voice before he started full on running.

“Hey! Where’s he going?!” Wind yelled before running after him, followed by Wild, Time, and Warriors. Leaving the others behind.

Legend felt his heart racing. He his emotions bubbling up as he wiped a tear from his cheek. The song. In Wild’s hyrule?! But how?! Impossible! How could someone know it? How could they know the Ballad of the Windfish??

“Marin?!” He called out while stumbling to a clearing with a small house. In front was you with your back turned as you hung some clothes on a clothing line, now humming the tune.

You turn around when hearing him and look at the man confused.

He was a little shorter than you and was that… pink in his hair?

You cautiously had your hand on the handle of a small sword you carried on your waist.

Legend stood still and was both emotional and in awe. He’s never seen a woman like you.

“Are you okay—?”

Before you could finish you see Wild, Time, and Wind emerge from the forest, out of breath.

“Y/n!”

“Link?” You replied a bit confused, looking at the others that vaguely resemble Wild. “Whats—?”

“Y/n we need some help.” He interrupted. “Our friend is a bit injured and—!”

“Thanks for leaving us behind!”

Twilight, Four, and Sky emerged from the forest, holding onto Hyrule, and with a disgruntled Warriors.

“Oh!” You looked over at them in shock, seeing the injured boy. “Bring him in!”

Twilight dragged Hyrule in and the others followed, well except for Legend. He stayed outside to think for a minute.

You took Hyrule to a room along with some potions and things before closing the door.

He helped you lift up his tunic, although a bit shy when you were looking at his stomach.

A pretty severe gash. Nothing you couldn’t fix, but it’ll take some time to heal.

“Wait wait!” Hyrule interrupted as you open a bottle, about to pour it on his wound. “What’s that?!”

“Just something to clean it mixed with a potion.”

“What kind of potion?” He asked, feeling suspicious.

“Something I made.” You said with a smile. “It’s okay.”

Hyrule nodded slowly and tried relaxing more.

He winced as the cold liquid poured on his chest and couldn’t help whimpering a little as you started doing your work.

“You’re… you’re a healer…”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Hm… I can do some healing.” He said while looking at you with th a small smile.

“Yeah? Interesting…” you paused for a moment, looking down at him. He didn’t look too much like your friend Link but something about him was familiar.

“Hey… what’s your name?” You ask curiously.

“Link— … er… um— Hyrule? Traveler?” He stuttered.

“What?”

“I-I guess I’ll have to explain…”

———— ♡ ♡ ♡

“What have you been up to?” Wild asked as Legend finally walked in.

“Nothing.” He said bluntly before sitting down.

“Someone’s grouchy.” Warriors teased.

“Maybe I’m worried for my friend.” He snapped while looking away.

The others shrugged it off, looking around your house while the oldest sat with Legend.

“Are you alright?” Time asked.

“It’s… hard to explain…”

Before he could say anything thing else you emerged from the room.

“I wrapped him up.” You said with a reassuring smile. “Just let him rest. And don’t be too loud, he’s napping.”

“Thanks y/n.” Wild said with a sigh. “You’re the best.”

“No problem.”

“You’re probably wondering what’s going on here.” Wild laughed nervously.

“Oh, your friend explained it to me.” You replied while looking around at the others.

“You’re Sky. The one with the sailcloth.” You said while pointing at Sky.

“And Time?” You asked looking at him. “The oldest.”

“Oh, he said that?” Time asked.

“Mmhm.” You nodded and looked around at the others. “Ummmm….”

You weren’t exactly sure who was who until your eyes landed on Legend. “You’re Legend. Pink hair.”

Legend blushed and looked down.

“I’ll figure out the rest later.” You shrugged.

“Oh, this is y/n.” Wild chuckled, realizing he never introduced you. “She’s a friend and great healer!”

“Do you all want dinner?” You asked while looking around.

Oh yes please!” Wind said happily.

“Wind. The cute one!”

Wind blushed and smiled at the comment and Warriors rolled his eyes.

“I wonder what he said about me…?” Four said to himself while looking down.

“How about meat and wild rice soup?”

The boys all looked excited at the suggestion.

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll start cooking. Come back in maybe… an hour in a half?”

“Thanks y/n!” Wild said. “Maybe we can stop by Hateno village. Its nearby and I need to stock up on some more arrows.”

“You’re right.” Time nodded. “We should stuck up on supplies.”

“Hey wait.” Four paused, looking at Wild with a raised brow. “I thought you didn’t know where we were!”

“Well… now that we’re at her house I do.” Wild said nervously. “Anyways, let’s go.”

Four only eyes him suspiciously as they walked out.

The others nodded and agreed to go to the town while Legend stayed behind with you and Hyrule; both to rest and be there if his friend wakes up.

Legend laid back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping but only resting

Shortly after he could hear you humming that sweet melody from the kitchen.

He wanted to know how you know the song so he got up and watched from the entrance.

“Um… y/n…?”

You were chopping vegetables and only turned your head to look at him. “Yes?”

“Um…” he wasn’t sure how to address the question as he walked up behind you. “Do you need help?”

“No it’s okay. You can relax.”

“No I don’t mind.” He said quickly.

“Oh. Okay.” You said with a smile, handing him the knife. “You can finish the vegetables.”

He nodded and took the knife from you.

“Hey y/n?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’m curious… what’s that song you were singing?” He asked. “How… how do you know it?”

You paused as you were preparing the meat and thought about it. “Not sure exactly where I exactly learned it… but I heard that it comes from a mysterious island.”

“R-really? Anything else about… the island?”

“Hm… no. Just a mysterious island.” You shrugged. “Sounds like a cool place to visit. But it’s probably a myth. Just a story, you know?”

“Heh… yeah..” Legend replied as he finished cutting the vegetables.

“Do you know the song?” You asked.

“Yeah…” he said with a sigh. “I’ve heard it…”

“Oh wow, in your Hyrule too?” You said while adding everything to the boiling pot. “That’s very interesting.”

“Yeah well I’ve played it on my ocarina.” He added.

“Oh wow!” You said, turning around. “Do you have it with you? You should show me sometime!”

Legend tensed up and smiled a little. “Yeah… we should. I-I… have it with me actually.”

“Oh can I see?” You said excitedly. “Hyrule told me you have lots of experience exploring. I wanna hear about all your adventures’”

“Really?”

“Your friend speaks highly of you.” You replied.

Once adding some spices to the pot, you and Legend walked out to sit on the sofa. You sat next to him, leaning against a pillow.

“So you’ve been on the most adventures out of the group?” You asked curiously. “How was that? Must be hard. And you must be exhausted.

“I mean… yeah it’s a lot.” Legend replied with some more confidence. “But nothing I couldn’t handle!.”

“Really? That’s why you act so tough?” You chuckled.

“Act?” He scoffed while standing up. “I think I am pretty tough.”

“Ohh yes of course.” You replied with a tease in your voice.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it.” The man laughed with his arms crossed. “Have you ever been a painting?”

“A painting??”

“Yeah! Haven’t traveled through worlds as a painting, going through the wall?” He laughed.

“Sounds like you’re making up some crazy stories.” You teased.

“Ha! I wish.” He replied. “I ended up saving a whole other world because they destroyed their triforce.”

“Their what?”

“Triforce. You know? Kind of like ours but flipped.” He explained while looking at you confused.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“You don’t— wait-…”. Legend sat back down to think for a moment. “Well, you’ve seen it, I know that for sure!”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s on Wild’s— uh-… your Link’s master sword.” He stuttered.

“My Link?” You laughed. “You make it sound like I own him.”

“Well… do you?” He asked while brushing his hair back with his fingers. It wasn’t really a serious question but at the same time, he wanted to know if you and Wild were a thing.

“No.” You replied, finding his nervousness cute. “He’s just my friend.”

“Oh that’s nice.” He said bluntly before trying to get up again.

“Wait!” You say suddenly while grabbing his arm. “I wanna hear more about you and your adventures!”

Legend was surprised at your enthusiasm and nodded as you both sat down to chat. It was a long chat and time flew fast

——————————————— 💚

After a bit, the others came back and you woke Hyrule up for a warm dinner. The heros all loved your cooking and were thankful.

After some cleaning and chatting, it was time to sleep and Sky was quick to claim the couch, leaving the others to lay out sleeping mats; unfortunately, you only had one bed and Time insisted that you sleep in it.

Everyone was exhausted and quickly dozed off. Legend was the last to get ready as you threw blankets on everyone.

“Hey.” You whispered to him.

The man looked at you confused as he was about to put his bag down.

“Can I show you something?” You whispered.

He nodded and took your hand as you led him out. The man couldn’t help blushing as you tugged him along in the night, leading him to an area surrounded with flowers. A few silent princess flowers were scattered about as well, emitting a light glow to the area, along with the fireflies.

“Pretty right?” You asked while sitting on the grass near the middle of the scene.

“Wow… yeah.” He replied while looking at all the flowers.

You patted the spot next to you and he sat down as you looked up at the stars, trying to see if you could make out any shapes.

“Did you bring your ocarina?”

“Oh um…” Legend realized that he never removed his bag and pulled out the instrument.

“You promised to show me how you play the song.” You said with a sweet smile.

“Oh yeah…” he replied nervously. “I might be a little shaky…”

“That’s okay.” You giggled. “I’m just happy someone else knows it! Let’s start!”

He nodded and you started humming the first part, pausing, waiting for him to play the next. The man hesitated for a moment before starting. He was actually surprised that he still remembered the song.

You continued humming as he continued playing, filling the night with the sweet music.

At your house, the song could be faintly heard and Time was still awake, enjoying the music. He noticed Legend wasn’t there and put two and two together.

Once finished, you continued humming as he looked down at the ocarina in his hands.

“That was pretty good actually.” You smiled.

“Better than I thought I remembered.” He replied awkwardly.

“You mentioned earlier that there was another world that mirrored yours” You said, starting to change the subject. “So there was another Link?”

“Well yeah. Although his name is Ravio.”

“Hm. Well then what is this Ravio guy like?”

Legend paused, not exactly sure how to describe his counterpart. Odd? Kind of annoying? But still not a bad person.

“He’s the opposite of me I guess?” The man said with a shrug.

“Sooo… dark hair, darker eyes, taller, and perhaps on the ugly side?”

“Well no he’s not tall-“ legend paused when realizing what you said at the end.

“No? Same height?” You asked. “Not on the ugly side?”

“W-well… um-…”

“What a kind and noble man you are.” You giggled at how he stumbled over his words and he couldn’t help blushing with some embarrassment.

“It’s okay. You’re still cute.” You added.

Legend couldn’t help smiling; he then reached over and plucked a flower from the grass It was bigger and a pinkish-red color. He then looked at you and placed it in your hair, behind your ear so that it would stay.

You blushed at the gesture and shyly looked down. Legend sat back to look at you and sighed. Something about this image… well it brought him comfort.

“That song brings me back some memories…” he said.

“Oh? Good or bad?” You asked, a bit concerned.

He was silent and only stared at you.

“Link?”

“Y/n…” he was leaning in close and you placed your hand over his before he suddenly kissed you.

You were a bit surprised but gladly kissed him back as you put your hands on his shoulders.

Legend moved his hands to your waist and continued to prolong the kiss, making it slow and passionate.

You moaned as he nipped at your lip and tightly gripped your waist, as if worried you were gonna go away. But you wouldn’t do that. In fact, you loved this and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment(probably to breathe) and looked at you to gage your reaction.

You were blushing and smiling a little, getting a warm tingling feeling all over.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You added before quickly going back to kissing, turning more into a full on make out.

Legend was practically on you as he made out and you could feel how he tightly gripped your waist.

The kisses became sloppy and desperate and you then pulled away.

“Hey.” You giggled. “We should get back now. It’s late.”

“Oh right.” He blushed while helping you up.

Before heading back you kissed him on the cheek and held his hand.

Once back at the house, you both were careful not to be loud and went to your bedroom.

“Well. Goodnight.” Legend said while grabbing his sleeping bag.

“What are you doing?” You asked while sitting on the bed.

“About to go to sleep…?”

“Come here, Link.” You said, Legend surprised that you’re still calling him by his actual name.

“Oh I don’t know—” he stuttered.

“Please.” You pouted.

Legend blushed as he laid next to you. You didn’t even have time to pull a blanket over before you both fell asleep. Apparently you were that tired. At some point in the night, you were cuddled up against his chest and he had his arms around you.

Legend smiled in his sleep as he held you, holding on tight like his life depended on it.

The door was still open and Warriors had woken up briefly. He chuckled when seeing the both of you in bed together and went back to sleep, excited to tease Legend about it in the morning…

[callmehiri]

Sucker Punch

Written by @secretlysheikah

Sweat made her shirt stick to her skin as she breathed hard. Her knuckles hurt even with the wrappings. She was definitely going to be stiff tomorrow as well as she pushed her hair back from her sweaty face.

“I think just… popping their arms out of socket is easier,” Hiri panted as Colin drank from his cup of water. He looked over at her and snorted before rolling his eyes. He was drenched in sweat too, it made his shirt cling to his muscles and increased the amount of house keeping that had to be done in the training room if the extra foot traffic from the maids meant anything.

“This is why people don’t want to brawl with you, you scare them,” he chided breathlessly and set his cup down. Hiri sniffed and waved the concern away before getting her own cup of water.

“That’s the point, I’m glad it works for everyone except smelly man,” she grumbled, making Colin sigh as he fixed his hair back into a neat bun on his head.

“I know, I’m working on the Crowmen thing I promise,” he said and cast a glance as Hiri as she drank one cup of water then another. She could feel heat rising up her neck that had nothing to do with their boxing match as his eyes lingered. She needed to get a grip.

“Did he bother you again? Is that why you wanted to learn boxing so badly?” He asked and earned a huff from the grumpy Sheikah. In reality she found out about the brawling pit some of the men had dug in the woods near the outpost. She had been excited but no one wanted to fight with her for fear of getting their limbs ripped out of their sockets. It was an effective fighting strategy but apparently not great for a friendly boxing match.

“He made some comments, I thought you had him removed,” she said and pursed her lips as Colin scowled in return.

“His father greased some palms and now he’s my problem again. This is the second time he’s been put back here and I’m hoping the third time will be the last,” he growled as he motioned for Hiri to come back to the ring. She hummed and followed along, her muscles aching as she made herself stretch.

“I can make his life Hell if you want. I can be spooky as well as threatening,” she offered and put her hands up. Colin chuckled and followed suit, offering quick jabs that forced her to block.

“Only if you want, I’m sure you’ll see him at that pit though,” he said making Hiri start and caught a fist to her ribs. She yelped and bent over her side as she backed up. Colin winced and came over his hands raised in surrender.

“Shit, are you okay? I’m sorry,” he said though she was barely paying attention as she stared at him.

“How do you know about the fighting pit?” She gasped and to her surprise got a snort. Colin patted her back and gave her a knowing smile.

“People showing up with more bruises, their hands red and knuckles swollen? Split lips and black eyes weren’t contagious last I heard. Not to mention Ford told me. He has his money on Corkie but I’m more worried about Valentine he has a mean left cross,” Colin said and grinned at her stunned face.

“Look, I can’t go because if I’m seen there I’m expected to shut it down. It makes the men happy and I want that to go as long as they aren’t killing one another,” he shrugged “you however definitely need to learn to bare knuckle brawl, because I bet you could win. But also serious injury will be reported and I’ll have to,” he started and Hiri nodded slowly.

“Shut it down?” She ventured and Colin grinned before giving her a wink and patted her back.

“You catch on fast. You’re small so we need to focus on speed and fast jabs. I’d aim for the ribs rather than the face considering well…” he said and pinched his fingers together to show just how short she was. Hiri’s eyes flashed and she twisted jamming her fist into his gut, hard. Colin gasped, wheezed and staggered away as she rose and followed after him.

“I’m going to punch your lights out,” she hissed and glowered at the wheezing laugh he gave her before squaring up again.

“That’s the spirit, keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll win,” he teased and went back to trading blows.

[beyondtheglowingstars]

So I tried febuwhump- (this is like my first time writing whump so it probably sucks)

Promise

Pairing: (Platonic) Link x Zelda Word count: 4.7k WARNING(S): Whump (duh), lots of blood, injury (not gore, but injuries are somewhat described), lots of tears General info: At long last, Malladus had been defeated and peace was brought to the land. Zelda wanted nothing more than to celebrate, but her good spirits would be brought down once the severity of the injuries Link had sustained were made apparent. Their options were limited and they were stranded without any help on sight; Zelda would rather not think that her efforts would be worthless, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't try her best for the single person that had given so much for her. Febuwhump day 1 'helpless' + day 18 'too weak to move'

Disclaimer before you go in: Uhhh I've never experienced serious injury and neither do I work in healthcare, the internet also didn't have answers to all of my questions so please pardon any inaccuracies. I'm also not claiming that Zelda is practicing proper first aid.

Zelda’s breath came in quick pants, her eyes fixed on the pastel oranges from the sunset as her mind attempted to come to terms with everything that had recently happened. Part of her still in astonishment that they had succeeded and she got her body back. And she was almost grateful at the pain from the cuts, bruises and scrapes on her skin for reaffirming that she was, indeed, alive once again.

“Link, we did it. We really did it!” The princess looked at the engineer with a grin almost as bright as the sun on the horizon, the gesture was returned.

Her arms wrapped around Link for a second time that day, and that moment was perhaps the safest she had ever felt in her life. But Link’s groan of pain would make her put distance between her and her friend in the blink of an eye. His own breaths labored, his face grimacing as he hunched over.

“Oh, Link. Are you okay?! You should sit down.” Her voice filled with worry, urging him to rest, and holding his arm in support as drop of fear ran through her bloodstream.

The blond met her eyes and slowly lowered himself with Zelda’s help. His lower body met the ground, sitting cross-legged. It felt like everything was spinning, no way he would have been able to remain standing up.

“I’m okay.” He reassured her, but Zelda wasn’t fully inclined to believe him

Not long after and the consequences of overexerting his body, a myriad of injuries made themselves known as each second passed; he hissed and grunted, silently cursing as his body betrayed what he had told Zelda.

She would have scolded him for lying had it been related to anything else and not when he was in such bad condition.

“Do you still have potions?” She asked with urgency.

Another groan came from his mouth before he could reply, not easing the princess’s concerns in the slightest.

“I don’t know.” He answered, smeared blood on his left cheek and his eyes visibly glassy.

Zelda wasted no time in unstrapping the bag with his gear from his back, hands rummaging trough the mess inside. Her hands dug and took out glass bottles; the two Link always used and an additional one that she didn’t remember about. That very last one holding what she was looking for.

It was a half-empty bottle of red potion. Zelda felt both disappointed yet partially relieved at the sight. She knew that a full red potion would never heal him significantly, so let alone half of a red potion healing enough to bring relief to the engineer in any way. But at the same time, it was probably better than nothing. Her hands uncorked the bottle in a flash, and the red concoction was held in front of Link for him to take.

“Please, drink this.” Her voice shaky.

The engineer looked at the liquid, then scanned his eyes over Zelda.

“But what about you?” The fact that even his voice sounded weak concerned Zelda more.

“At least I can stand on my own. You need to drink this!” She frowned, and the potion was lightly pushed against his chest.

He didn’t want to argue because of a combination between his aching limbs and fatigue. He lifted his left arm to take the container, hissing from the action since it took him a great deal of energy to accomplish, but he swallowed the bitter liquid as soon as his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Zelda watched him drink the potion with her breath held, relief washed over her when she noticed some sort of recovery over his visible injuries, and she could only hope the condition of the wounds she couldn’t see improved as well.

“Do you feel better?” The princess scooted closer, taking a sharp inhale as her own tired body protested.

“Not that much.”

Link attempted to fix his sitting position and make it more comfortable by stretching his legs, which only made pain spike on his aching muscles and irritated skin, eliciting a moan from the discomfort and fresh tears to gather on the corners of his eyes.

Potions were very helpful in a pinch, and could make almost anyone bounce back into action as if nothing had happened; but even as useful as they were, there was only so much they could do. Some things the body still had to take care of after receiving aid from the cure, and others the potion simply didn’t have an effect on.

“Zel, everything hurts.” He sounded breathy and just as fragile as his physical state, Zelda felt a chill run up her body.

“I’ll take care of you, it will be okay. I’ll look for something to clean you.” She tried to reassure him with a gentle pat on his back.

Zelda dug through his bag again, and quick enough, she found some leftover gauze she had advised Link to get long ago just in case. Though, there wasn’t a lot thanks to previous treatment of his wounds prior to the encounter against Malladus, but she would make it count as best as she could.

She inched closer to her wounded friend with the fabric in hand, beginning the process of cleaning all the blood. She started with a cut above his temple that had dripped a considerable amount of blood, that one the potion had healed almost entirely and was taken care of very quickly.

She had to request of him to remove his tunic and undershirt for the remaining injuries; the belt came off without an issue, but the two other garments were a different story. It resulted in more pained groans from Link as he attempted to rid himself off the clothing articles, he was in too much pain from sore muscles and a slash on his right arm, so Zelda assisted him.

The clothes were discarded after much difficulty and several pained sounds from Link, it made the princess’s heart pulse with sadness, repeated apologies spilling from her mouth. She prayed his arms weren’t in as bad of a condition as the smeared blood made them look, but was glad that his white tank top didn’t present any other crimson stains on it besides the one on his left side.

“Link, I’m so sorry! But I need to take care of this.” Her concerned blues glanced at his pained face, a pit opened in her stomach.

She had to begin with what seemed to be worst.

She would have liked to give him some time and comfort him more before she continued, but she knew that wasn’t posible due to the severity of the injuries, especially the one on the left side a few centimeters above the hip. If seeing the white from the tank top soaked with several shades of red was enough to make her want to cover her eyes and cry, let alone acknowledging how there was enough liquid that it had dripped down his leg and also stained his trousers. But she was going to keep it together because Link needed help.

Zelda shut her eyes to avoid the gnarly sight if only for a few seconds to steel her nerves, taking a deep breath. Her eyes opened back with newfound courage, feeling more prepared.

Her hands took hold of the hem of his shirt and carefully lifted it up in a way so it didn’t create friction against his wound, the dark red seeped into her white gloves. She had to stop herself from gasping and alarming Link, cold sweat ran down the side of her face. There was so much blood, and she only hoped that was from before when he drank the potion.

The wound had to be the result from when Malladus charged at Link, when he almost didn’t have enough time to move out of the way before something worse happened to him. She didn’t want to imagine what would have happened had Link not been quick enough and instead of a nearly missed attack, the horn would have pierced him square on the abdomen.

He most likely wouldn’t be breathing right now.

“Is it too bad?”

His voice cut through her thoughts, almost making her jolt in surprise and her heartbeat quicken. Must have seen her hesitance and shakiness. She almost forgot how to speak in that moment.

“N-No, I just need to patch you up and you will be fine. You will be fine and then we can both go home.” Her tone was uncertain and probably caused the opposite of reassuring Link, but if such thing happened he didn’t really comment on it.

She wanted to remain positive, constantly reminding herself that it could’ve gone significantly worse and she should be glad that Link was still alive.

“Go home? That sounds nice. Now that you have your body I can take you to do all sorts of things through New Hyrule.” He smiled at her through the pain.

She really wanted to believe that’s what was gonna happen. She really wanted to go across New Hyrule with him again and experience everything as it was with her body back.

“Thank you, Link. I’m looking forward to it.” She didn’t dare look at his face.

It was a lot of blood and she had to ration the gauze. She reached for his previously discarded light green undershirt and let it absorb some of the liquid around the affected area. Link winced and whimpered, a few tears fell from his eyes and left wet trails behind. She didn’t want to imagine how much pain he must be in. It broke her heart to see him like that. She hated it. He did not deserve it.

After the blood was cleaned, she wrapped a generous amount of the medical fabric around his body and over the wound, making sure that it was secured enough so it didn’t fall yet loose enough that it didn’t do more harm than good.

With the worst of the injuries gone, she was finally able to breathe. Next came his right arm.

Gauze was pressed against the cut that started around his shoulder and ended close to his bicep, the contact made the engineer wince and hold his breath. Zelda noticed his discomfort and worked as fast as she could; excluding the dried blood, most of it had been cleaned easily, and it looked like the open wound no longer bled thanks to the potion. But due to recent contact, new and blazing pain surged through the injury and a tear ran down his cheek.

“I know it hurts but I’m taking care of you and everything will be okay.” The princess swallowed hard, carefully wrapping the fabric around his arm and over the gash.

The guilt she felt was almost unbearable. She didn’t remember when Link had gotten this wound, but all that crossed her mind was that the reason was in such state was because she went and dragged him into everything.

“I’m so sorry about this, Link.” She found it harder to speak than it should have.

“It wasn’t your fault, don’t worry.” He reassured her.

Now that she was done with the worst of his gashes, she moved on to inspect the rest of his injuries. His arms were mostly littered with bruises rather than cuts, and there was enough gauze to cover the few lacerations that he did have on his skin.

Zelda snuck a glance at Link and noticed a soft smile on his lips, puzzling her.

“Why are you smiling?” She asked, with genuine intrigue as she bandaged the last wound in need of attention.

“I’m happy that you look out for me. Thank you.”

His smile was mirrored on her lips, the princess felt her mood lighten ever so slightly. It gave her hope that maybe everything would really turn out fine, but that small ray of hope was quickly squashed by the fact that Zelda thought his voice was still far too weak and his eyes held a strange quality to them that made her all the more anxious. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about his eyes inundated her with dread.

“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve been through.” A sad sigh left her lips.

She took hold of the green undershirt again, brushing a section that didn’t have blood over his legs to rid them of any debris or dust. The fabric of his leggings was mostly intact save for a few holes from the couple of times his knees scraped against the ground, excluding the very clear dirt stains against the white material. She didn’t see any blood emerge anywhere else except from already healed, minor cuts, so she assumed his legs were mostly fine save for a few scratches and muscle soreness.

Link noticed she was done and sighed in relief, staring at the more vibrant shades of oranges and reds; his eyes had been feeling increasingly heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to catch the train to dreamland and wake up feeling better. He was very tired, and now that it was all over, is when he felt like he could actually rest. But his injuries still bothered him greatly, he groaned from a new surge of pain that came every few seconds or so, so it may be a while before he’d get to sleep.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Zelda a short distance away from him, in a kneeling position; she hadn’t moved from there since she had finished patching him up. Her brows heavy with worry, body so tense that it was easy to notice, and her eyes seemed to be darting over every one of his wounds.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, as her concern was starting to worry him in return.

“Does it still hurt?”

There was no use in lying to her when he had been wincing and moaning in pain for a while now.

“Yes, but not as much as before.” He downplayed his discomfort in hopes of alleviating some of her stress.

Zelda did not reply, instead, she looked through his bag for a third time and fished out the Spirit Flute. Link wanted to ask what her idea was, but he found too much energy had fleeted him already, so the question died in his throat.

The princess put the flute close to her lips and blew through the pipes; the first six notes in the right order, but Zelda made a few mistakes in the remainder of the song due to it being the first time she ever played the melody. So she tried again. And this time, she played every note of the song correctly. The Song of Healing.

She put the flute down, her breaths audible and her head looked in every direction in search of a fairy that wouldn’t arrive. But she held a small glint of hope and waited longer, but still didn’t find anything after a few seconds of waiting. Frustrated, the flute was dropped and her hands found her blonde hair that she clawed on with a sound of defeat, not realizing that Link had called for the fairy earlier on when Zelda had been busy reclaiming her body.

“It’s okay. Sit next to me.” He offered her a smile and pat the ground on his right side to the best of his ability to not reignite the ache in his arms.

The fear was taking over her and she didn’t know how to deal with it, but the ounce of rationality still left in her head was able to speak.

“Link, we have to go.”

“Zel, I’m very tired… and it still hurts.” He protested, exhaling with half-lidded eyes.

She knew he was in excruciating pain. She knew his body needed proper recovery. She knew that he wasn’t tired, but rather exhausted, both mentally and physically. And she would tell him that she admired his fortitude if he didn’t look like he was on the brink of collapsing.

She knew it would hurt him to even attempt to stand upright, and that’s why she hated that thought; he didn’t need any more pain than the one he’s already been through, she didn’t want to make it worse. But she didn’t know what else to do with her back pressed against the wall and a blade to her neck. They were running out of time.

“It’s getting dark and you need help, Link!” Zelda tried to make him understand her reasoning. She continued.

“I know it hurts, but monsters are gonna come, and if we stay here, you might not…” She didn’t dare finish the sentence, a few tears gathered on her eyes at the mere thought of what she had implied.

She knew they needed help and where to get it. The Tower of Spirits in their vision to the north-east, which meant Castle Town was also within their reach, and Whittleton to the south-west, but the medical staff in Castle Town were their best bet. And while she knew where they were, the problem was that it was still a long distance just to get to any of those locations by foot, therefore crazy if her sore legs allowed her to get halfway there, and outright ridiculous if she managed to get all the way back to civilization.

And even if she eventually got there, it would have taken far too long; Link would have been defenseless, all by himself at night for far too long. All those minutes of travel time between Zelda getting to the town, explaining everything, and then making it back to Link; when all the minutes were added, it made the idea not feasible.

Oh, how much distance could be underestimated thanks to trains.

“Zel, I’m tired...” He pleaded once again.

She knew better than anyone else that his body needed a break, the dark circles under his eyes might as well be permanently etched onto his skin now. And she considered his words; they might not even make it all the way there even if Link managed to walk some distance away from where he currently sat.

But she didn’t know, and wasn’t able to think about any other alternative options with every strong emotion wreaking havoc on her ability to think.

Tears of defeat on her eyes, fists were clutched tightly and arms trembled.

“L-Link, you have to try! We can’t stay here.” The darker sky only amplified the chill that had taken over her body.

He really wanted to try. He knew she wasn’t wrong. His extended legs slowly being brought back closer to his body into a position where he could leverage himself more easily to stand up since he couldn’t rely too much on his arms. But he didn’t get far, as his tired muscles made his legs twitch with instability, and there was a sharp pain separate from soreness on the inside of his right thigh. Link threw his head back in agony with a his, hurriedly shifting his legs to the position from earlier.

“I can’t, Zel.”

She had watched everything, and for the first time since their adventure, hated the truth in his words. Zelda no longer knew what to do in this losing battle.

Not strong enough to simply pick him up and make the trek back to Castle town. She could drag him for some distance if she really tried, but that didn’t matter since she wouldn’t be able to drag him all the way to the town. The Spirit Train was also nowhere in sight; she would have tried her darnedest best to start up the engine and get them to safety by remembering what Link had told her about operating a locomotive, but that wasn’t an option.

She felt so helpless, so useless. The same way she had felt back when it all started. Everything had been boiling inside her for a while, and was now reaching its peak as tears of frustration fell down her cheeks as an alternative to shouting curses at a sky that wouldn’t hear. There was a strong urge to be close to Link that overtook her, a feeling in the back of her mind that spoke to her, and she complied, sitting next to him like he had requested earlier.

If Link noticed her closer presence, he didn’t acknowledge it. And it greatly concerned her.

More water spilled from her eyes, being cleared shortly after, but there was panic right after, when she spotted Link closing his eyes; his head slowly leaning to the side as he was falling asleep. She was right up on his face in a fraction of a second and shaking him awake.

“Link?! Don’t go dying on me now!” Voice heavy with desperation.

The engineer was back awake in no time, but his eyelids were nowhere near open enough like they should be. Only a small fraction of the sun remained, their surroundings slowly darkened each second.

“I’m not gonna die, I’m just gonna take a nap.” He would’ve liked to joke about Zelda worrying too much, but he was far too tired for even that as his words carried a subtle slur to them.

“But right now’s not the time for a nap!” She shook him once again I hopes of keeping the sleep at bay.

His eyes closed not long after, head falling forward slowly, only for Zelda to force his head upright and momentarily rid him off the sleep.

“Link, you can’t sleep right now! Don’t leave me!” Her breathing quickened as pure panic started taking over, feeling her limbs begin to tremble.

“I’m not leaving you, it’s just a nap.” He wanted to reassure with a weak smile.

“But if you take that nap, you will!”

Zelda’s volume rose as both a consequence of her stress, consternation and needing Link to remain awake, but it was to no avail. His body was falling into slumber as she spoke to him, she doubled her efforts to wake him up from that initial invitation to snooze.

“Link?!” She felt scorching tears forming in her eyes, her vocal cords struggled to project her voice against the painful knot in her throat.

“Yes, Zel?” He sounded almost breathless, irises moving in her direction slowly.

He fought against the drowsiness that was threatening to overpower him, he knew he wasn’t gonna win but still tried to so he could listen to Zelda.

“Link, promise me that you’re not gonna leave me! Please, you have to promise you’re not gonna go!”

The princess’s voice broke, sniffing loudly in a futile attempt to hold her tears back. She didn’t even notice when she had taken an anxious grip on the front of his shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured her with one of his friendly smiles.

‘You’re being silly’ along with ‘I’ll be fine’ is what he really wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t able to. Not while in this state, not while he could feel another incoming wave of exhaustion.

“You have to promise that you’re not gonna go. Please! Don’t leave me all alone, Link!” She insisted, taking a firmer grip on his shirt.

“I promise I’m not gonna leave you, Zelda.”

A tiny smile on his lips, his less injured left arm moved slowly and he placed a hand on Zelda’s own. There was enough water on her eyes to cloud some of her vision, it was flowing out against her will. She wanted that smile of his to bring her comfort, like it always did, yet this time it made something twist inside her from fear and a multitude of other feelings she didn’t know the name of, thinking it would be the last of his smiles that she’d see.

“Then you have to try for me! Please!”

Despite Zelda’s pleas, he wasn’t able to shake off the sleep himself and began nodding off again.

“Link?! Link!”

His eyes barely looked open now, a faint sound was the only way she had to know that he had acknowledged the cries of his name. The princess doubled her efforts and he was forced awake.

“Please! You can’t sleep right now you can’t-” Her sobs rendered her unable to finish, the breath caught in her throat didn’t help her either.

A ‘sorry’ came out from Link’s lips, barely understandable from how slurred it was. Zelda wept louder, breathing ragged and her words hadn’t made it past her lips. She vigorously shook Link in another effort to keep him up.

“’m sorry, Zelda…”

His eyelids felt like lead, and he was steadily crossing over the line of consciousness into slumber. Link knew that his body would was stubborn enough that any efforts by him to remain awake would be in vain, and Zelda probably wouldn’t be able to help much now, either.

“LINK?!”

She was nothing short of terrified, her eyes widening and heart felt like it had stopped.

“NO! Link, please! You have to wake up, you have to wake upyouhavetowakeupyouhaveto-” She shook him incessantly in every direction.

A pang of horror took over her when she realized that Link wouldn’t wake up no matter what she did, frozen in place as everything hit her at once with an overwhelming force. The waterfalls burst from her eyes first, loud and pained sobs came next, and any semblance of control over her emotions completely disappeared.

Zelda wept openly, arms wrapping around Link’s body, she buried her face on the shoulder that wasn’t injured. Her voice was so loud and the distress in it so great that this had to be the most intensely she had ever cried up until that point, and there was no hope in sight.

Had she not done enough? Had she left it all upon Link when he fought Malladus? Could she have done better?

Had this been her fault?

Everything had started because her body, after all.

And thanks to that same body that she and Link scampered all across New Hyrule for, the kind engineer that was her sole friend, paid a high price. He was the only reason she had remained sane throughout the journey.

She almost didn’t want to be in this same body that she had fought so hard for anymore, all relief she had of being back to normal was gone, it was the reason everything started; it was weak and made her unable to protect Link properly when he needed it most, it made her unable to save Link after everything.

She would trade her body for having Link smiling and without a scratch. She would do it without a second thought. She would remain a phantom for all eternity if it meant that nothing would have happened to Link and he could have gone back to live the peaceful life that he deserved after all of this.

Or had it been her foolishness for not realizing way earlier that Cole was planning something behind the scenes?

A sweet village boy with a promising future that she got roped into this whole mess had fared much worse than she did, and it was all because she had been so naive to trust people so blindly. Because of her inability to speak up and assert the authority that rightfully belonged to her. She was running a million of scenarios in her mind of solutions both simple and complicated that she could have done to stop Cole before he got too far, and it angered her.

It angered her beyond words that she could have prevented everything. It made her fists clench so hard that her nails started digging into the palm of her hand.

If given the chance, she would go back in time just to strangle Cole in his sleep, the consequences be damned.

The sun had fully set and the moon was starting to peek on the horizon. Zelda almost felt mocked by it as salty rivers spread on her cheeks; it’s as if the moon reminded her that she had failed and only wanted to make it more difficult by bringing nighttime on the land.

But she would remain by his side, she would stay up all night long fending off any monsters that dared to even look at Link if its the last thing she could do for him. It didn’t matter if the battered state of her body would bring her down later own.

She would stay no matter what, just the same way he did when she had lost everything at the hands of Cole.

[casuallyimagining]

Home (7)

Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook

Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 2,581 Rating: M Warnings (updated per chapter): stalking, wild animal attack, major character injury, blood, implied homophobia, slight internalized homophobia, starvation, hospitalization

Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.

banners by @mintkims

Sequel to Fix You. Read it first.

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“Hey Jungkook.” Yoongi crouched beside the pup’s head. “I brought a friend. She’s going to help you, okay?”

The poor pup was shivering, a light blanket clutched tightly around himself doing nothing to keep him warm. He was skin and bones, his cheeks even more hollow and eyes more sunken than Taehyung’s. At first, you thought he had fallen asleep, but he shifted as you got closer, his puppy-like ears--too large for his head and beyond fluffy--flopped over on his head, as if he didn’t even have the energy to keep them up.

His tail wagged once weakly, and he rolled over ever so slightly to look at you. He offered a small, tired smile, his big brown eyes watching you curiously.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked Taehyung, barely able to take your eyes from Jungkook.

“A day or two maybe? He just got really bad this morning.” Taehyung wrung his hands in front of him. “Can you help him?”

You knelt beside Jungkook, pushing his chestnut hair out of his eyes. He made eye contact as you looked at him. He didn’t seem injured, just weak. “When was the last time you had a good meal?”

He hummed, practically melting into your hand when you started to scratch gently at his ears. “A few weeks? We used to get leftovers and stuff from some restaurant, but they got a new manager.” He frowned. “I’m really hungry, noona.”

“I’m sure.” You sighed. “Have you been living here all this time?”

“We lived in the woods for a while, right after we escaped,” Taehyung explained. “But neither of us are particularly good hunters, so it was hard to find food. We had only been in the city for a few months when we heard about Yoongi’s trial. We knew it had to be you, hyung, so we asked around to try to find you.”

“Stayed close when we did,” Jungkook whispered. “Knew we’d run into you eventually, hyung.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed as he looked from Jungkook to Taehyung. “The other day when we were coming back from the store. That was you?”

Taehyung nodded, his long black tail flicking behind him excitedly. “I didn’t want to bother you. We were out trying to find dinner.”

Jungkook groaned. “Don’t mention dinner. Noona can we go to your house?”

You sighed, continuing to scratch at his ears. “Sweetheart, I don’t know that I can help you.”

“What?” Taehyung practically screeched from behind you.

Jungkook nodded slightly, as if accepting his fate. “That’s okay, noona.”

“No, I…” You frowned, brushing his hair out of his eyes again. “I think we should get you to a hospital.”

“He’s not going to a hospital,” Taehyung said sternly, stepping forward. Yoongi’s ears flattened, and he immediately stepped between you and the panther hybrid. “He’ll find us if we go to a hospital.”

Yoongi glanced over at you, his copper eyes conflicted. Technically, Taehyung was right. Seungri was still their legal guardian, and he was technically the one that should make the serious medical decisions for Taehyung and Jungkook. But you were concerned about what would happen if Jungkook didn’t get professional help quickly.

“I’m out of my depth,” you admitted, making eye contact with Yoongi. “And I think bad things will happen if we just start shoving him full of food.”

“You think Dr. Jung...?”

“He’s been good to us. He understands the situation.”

Yoongi nodded. You knew he agreed. Dr. Jung had been instrumental in Yoongi’s emancipation trial, and he had been more than helpful in the years since with helping to manage the pain from Yoongi’s old injuries.

“It’ll be easier if there’s just one.” You could see the cogs turning in Yoongi’s head as he thought aloud. Finally, he turned to Taehyung. “Go back to the apartment,” he said firmly.

“No. I’m staying with him.” The panther hybrid’s tail flicked angrily.

“Taehyung.”

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly at the use of his name, his tail lashing out in annoyance behind him. “You’ll only put him in danger if you come with us. You could both get caught, and then what?” He sighed. “It’s safer for you at home. Get Hobi to make you something to eat. Get some rest.”

Taehyung frowned. “Hyung, I-”

“Trust me.”

The silence was tense. You watched as the two cat hybrids stared at each other, their tails swishing behind them, eyes glowering. Beside you, Jungkook whined softly, trying to cuddle closer to you for warmth and comfort. It took a moment, but eventually, Taehyung backed down.

“Take care of him.”

“He’s sleeping,” Dr. Jung said softly, shutting the door to Jungkook’s room. He looked haggard, his dark hair more disheveled than normal.

He motioned for you and Yoongi to follow him, leading you down the hall slightly and into a private conference room. The hall was mostly quiet--the hybrid wing of the veterinary hospital was surprisingly empty. Dr. Jung sat in one of the plush chairs in the conference room, leaving the small couch for you and Yoongi to share. You had always liked the doctor, and you were thankful that, by some random miracle, he had been the one working the veterinary emergency room when you had brought Yoongi in--then, just as a random cat--after he had been attacked by the dog two years ago.

“I don’t think we’ll have to put in an NG tube,” the doctor said, folding his hands in his lap and crossing his legs. “I wanted him to rest a bit, but when he wakes up, the nurses will bring him a high-calorie protein shake and something yummy to eat. We’ll see how he does with that and go from there.” You nodded, feeling Yoongi relax beside you. His hand found yours almost immediately. “Can I assume he’s one of Seungri’s hybrids?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“We ran away at the same time,” Yoongi said softly, squeezing your hand. “Will he be okay?”

“I’m hoping that once we get some food in him, he’ll start gaining some weight. He’s weak, but nowhere close to death. It’s good you brought him in.” Dr. Jung nodded to himself, readjusting how his staff badge was clipped to his white coat. “His muscles are weak, so he’ll need to be on a high-protein diet for a while, but he should be back to normal within a month or two.”

You nodded. “That’s good.”

“But in regards to his owner…” Dr. Jung hummed, his brow furrowing slightly. “Let me see what I can do for him. There are some avenues I can explore on my end that could help him.” You nodded. Of all people, you had known Dr. Jung would understand the strange and delicate nature of the situation. “It may take a few weeks for us to get him to a place where I’m comfortable sending him home, so I understand if you can’t stay here with him all that time. But for his comfort--and his safety--I would recommend one of you to be here as much as you possibly can. Many hybrids who come in for malnourishment get terribly lonely. Let the nurses know if you need anything.”

He stood, then, and patted your shoulder before making his way out of the room. Alone with Yoongi for the first time in weeks, you sighed and allowed yourself to lean into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and he pressed a kiss into your temple.

“It’s always something,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath to stabilize yourself. Yoongi hummed and nuzzled into your hair. A soft purr started to rumble in his chest in an attempt to comfort you. “Thank you for having my back with Taehyung.”

“Always.” He bumped his forehead against your head gently, his tail wrapping around you and flopping into your lap. “I just hope he understands it was for the best.”

Silence took hold, then, but it wasn’t oppressive. Enveloped in Yoongi’s warmth the way you were, you let yourself relax as you considered your next steps. You had just started to get things under control with Hoseok and Namjoon. With the wolf and viper hybrids under your roof, your expenses had all doubled. Thankfully, your landlord either didn’t know or didn’t care that you had taken on two more roommates.

But now, with Taehyung and Jungkook potentially joining the pack, you were quickly running out of room. If they stayed--if they all stayed--you would need to figure something out. You doubted they wanted to sleep in bunk beds. But moving would mean more money, and you were pretty certain that you had exhausted your list of potential clients for now.

Maybe you could add some services. Web design had never been your favorite, but maybe you could charge a little extra for the hassle of it.

Yoongi must have sensed your train of thought, because his hold on you tightened. “We’ll figure it out,” he mumbled into your hair.

You sighed. “We should go sit with Jungkook. Just in case he wakes up.”

Yoongi groaned when he stood, his fingers loosely gripping your own as he let you lead him back to Jungkook’s room. When you peeked in, the pup was still sleeping, but you entered quietly anyway.

The room was surprisingly spacious for being a hospital room. You supposed that they gave hybrids their own rooms because of how territorial some could be. No one needed two sick hybrids fighting for control of their hospital room. There was a window on one side of the room that overlooked the parking garage and the entrance to the emergency department. The sun was starting to set. You had spent longer at the courthouse with Hobi and Namjoon than you thought.

The small couch beside Jungkook’s bed was illuminated by a small orange sunbeam. You heard Yoongi hum happily as he sat down. He pulled you down practically on top of him, his arms wrapping firmly around you again as he buried his face in your neck. He sighed happily, a soft, stuttering purr starting to rumble in his chest as he scented you lightly. After a moment, you shifted in his arms, slipping off your shoes and pulling your legs up so you were curled into his side.

You watched Jungkook sleep. He looked peaceful in spite of how thin his face was, his chest rising and falling gently with every breath. You knew he was young--a good few years younger than both you and Yoongi--but he looked like he was at least a few years older. In his sleep, though, you could see the youthfulness in him. You could see how, if he were well, his cheeks would be full and chubby.

Beside you, Yoongi’s breathing became slow and even as he drifted off, the warmth of the sunbeam and the draw of cuddles too much to resist. His arms loosened around you, and his head fell gently against your own. You reached over and grabbed his tail, placing it gently across your lap. The fur was still a little fried from the bleach, but the blonde looked nice. It had diluted ever so slightly, fading from a bright platinum to a more natural ash blond. You still weren’t entirely used to the change. He looked good blond. Like, really good. He hummed in his sleep as you played with the fur of his tail, unconsciously pulling you closer.

As soon as you opened your front door, Taehyung was on you, his black ears pressed into his dark hair. His tail swished behind him in agitation as he gripped your arms.

“Where is he?” he asked frantically. His amber eyes were wild.

“He’s in the hospital,” you told him calmly. You were barely in the doorway, and you could feel Yoongi standing just behind you. “He’ll be okay, he just needs treatment and rest.”

“You let him stay there?” Taehyung growled. “We never should have come to you.”

“He could have died if you didn’t,” Yoongi said firmly, reaching around you and pushing Taehyung back. “He was sick, Taehyung.”

“He was hungry. You could have fed him.”

“He was starving. There’s a difference.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, but he finally took a step back, allowing you and Yoongi to enter your apartment and shut the door behind you. “Why do you even trust this human, hyung? Wasn’t the one enough?”

Yoongi snarled, his tail puffing up defensively. “Don’t compare her to him like they’re even remotely the same. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Movement off to your left in the living room drew your attention. Hobi and Namjoon sat on the floor wrapped in a blanket. Hobi’s head was hung low as he tried to bury himself in Namjoons arms. He looked terrified. Namjoon’s head rested against Hobi’s, and you could barely see his big fluffy tail poking out of the blanket from where it was wrapped protectively around the viper hybrid’s waist.

“Jungkook’s all alone in the hospital right now. I don’t really care what she’s done for you,” Taehyung spat.

“Jungkook is safe. Safer than he would probably be here,” you said, attempting to keep your voice calm. You knew that yelling would do nothing but make Taehyung angrier and scare Hobi more. “Believe what you want, but he’ll get better care in the hospital than what I could give him. I’m not a doctor. I can’t provide the attention he needs. He won’t be there forever, and when he’s released, you can go on your merry way if you want. But right now, he needed help. You came to us for help. I’m doing the best I can.”

Taehyung glared at you, his amber eyes full of anger and hurt. His tail flicked behind him, swishing back and forth in annoyance, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something more. Beside you, Yoongi pressed closer, his hand on your lower back. You could see him glowering at the panther hybrid out of the corner of your eye.

After a moment, you felt Yoongi relax beside you, although Taehyung still remained on edge. “You don’t have to go back out there, you know,” Yoongi said softly. “Even when Jungkook is better. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

“Why would I want to stay here?’

“Because it’s not out there.” Yoongi shrugged. “Reliable meals, warm place to sleep, people who care about you.”

“It’s starting to get a little cramped,” you admitted. “But Taehyung, if you want somewhere safe to stay, we’ll make room for you here.”

The panther hybrid deflated some, his tail drooping and his ears relaxing against his head. His amber eyes flashed from you, to Yoongi, and back as his jaw repeatedly clenched and unclenched. “I didn’t… that’s not what I…”

“Take some time to think about it,” you told him softly. “You can sleep on the couch for now. At least until Jungkook is out of the hospital. Dr. Jung said it should only take a few weeks for Jungkook to be back on his feet, and then you guys can decide together what you want to do, okay?”

It took a moment for Taehyung to respond, but after a second, he nodded slowly.

Yoongi relaxed fully beside you, his hand rubbing your back gently before he pulled away. “Are you hungry?” He asked the panther hybrid, continuing before he had the chance to answer. “I’m going to make a snack.”

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

Fallin’ For You // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: I saw that your requests were open I was wondering if you could do something with Anthony x reader maybe the reader gets Injured somehow or something? Just fluffy worried Anthony really 😂 - @nicole198205

A/N: More mindless fluff! I’m sorry it isn't more substantial, but I had my first covid vaccine yesterday and I can barely move my arm. Anyway, I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Warnings: female reader, injuries, minor injuries, nothing overly serious, worried Anthony. 

Word count: 1.9k

For all of the education allowed to women of your station, even your governess would be shocked at the litany of swear words leaving your lips as you do your best to limp across the stretching, green lawn of Aubrey Hall. 

A morning walk. A lovely, morning walk where you could observe the grounds of your marital home – that was all you wanted, all you had really planned of your day. You weren’t to know of the tree root sticking up from the ground; its limbs gnarled and mangled as it stretches out across the forest floor. 

You felt something rip as you fell to the ground; your left ankle trapped within the tree root, a pained yelp leaving your lips as you scraped the palms of your hands on the rocks littering the floor. Wounded pride, wounded hands, wounded ankle – you took a quick inventory of your injuries as you let the tears fall in privacy before dragging yourself to your feet, briefly wondering how much more damage you would do to your ankle before making it home.

The closer you get to the grand seat of power of the Bridgerton family, the straighter you force your posture, determined to hide the worst of the pain until safely hidden away in your bedchamber where you could release the waiting sobs and cries of agony. The main door is too far away, and the thought of limping to the heavy wooden doors almost sends you to the floor once again. Instead, you hobble to the side entrance to the kitchen where not even the delicious aroma of shortbread could keep the tears at bay. 

“Lady Bridgerton!” The cook, Mrs. Black gasps as she catches sight of your muddied gown and the pained expression on your face. “Are you okay? Should you be walking?”

“I’m alright, Mrs. Black,” You smile painfully, attempting to ignore the piercing pain spreading through your foot and ankle. 

“You’ll tell me anything!” She cries, flapping her teatowel at you. “I’m going to get Jenkins. Do not move,” She warns, fixing you with an unimpressed but concerned look.

“I don’t think I could if I tried,” You admit, leaning against the wooden frame of the doorway for support, relieving your injured ankle of your body weight. 

You let your eyes slip closed, letting yourself fall into the pain for a single moment, slowing your breathing as you feel the first tears slip down your cheeks.

“Lady Bridgerton!” Jenkins’ concerned shout has you opening your eyes, meeting the aged grey eyes of the butler that had looked after you since the first days of your marriage to Anthony. His eyes run over you quickly, assessing the situation with a speed decades in services has gifted him. “Do you think you can walk to my office?” He asks quietly; his voice almost a whisper. 

Mrs. Black answers for you; her Yorkshire accent becoming thicker the more upset she becomes. “Walk! The poor girl can barely stand! Walk, my great aunt,” She mutters, rolling her eyes as she settles her hands on her hips. 

Jenkins closes his eyes for a count of three; letting Mrs. Black have her rant before shaking his head with exasperated fondness. “Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Black – would you please help Lady Bridgerton to my office.”

The order is given, and the respected butler turns away, heading to his office to grab a chair and something for you to rest your ankle on. 

Mrs. Russell and Mrs. Black each take an arm, holding you steady as you hobble your way to the butler’s office. 

The room smells like old paper and tobacco; it puts you at ease as you settle into the chair already set up for you in the middle of the room. Jenkins remains close to his desk; his eyes fixed on your ever swelling ankle. 

“There you are,” Mrs. Black whispers softly. 

“Thank you,” You whisper to the beloved cook.

“It’s no issue, my lady. I’ll bake you something special and sweet for dessert tonight for managing to walk back to the house in your state.”

You smile at the cook; your bottom lip beginning to wobble as she squeezes your arm once before taking her leave. Sighing painfully, you wince as you adjust the ankle resting on the small, green ottoman. 

“What happened, my lady?” Jenkins asks, remaining close to his desk. 

“It’s all so silly,” You begin, “I was on my morning walk as I told you about this morning over breakfast with Anthony. Anyway, I was just beyond the tree line when I must not have looked, and I tripped over a tree root. I couldn’t simply stay there, lying on the floor so I made my way back to the house, but the main door is so far away. The kitchen was closer and I’m so glad because you got to me quicker.”

Jenkins nods once; accepting your story for what it was: the truth. He kneels down beside your injured ankle, meeting your gaze. “May I?”

You nod once, biting your lip to keep from whimpering pain as Jenkins makes quick work of examining your injury.  “I’m going to have to get the Viscount, my lady,” Jenkins sighs, his gaze meeting that of the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Russell.

“Are you sure?” You question, not wanting to pull Anthony away from his work. You try not to wince as you move your ankle to the left and the right. “See!” You gesture, “I’m moving it just fine.”

Jenkins shakes his head, doing his best to hide a smile at your stubbornness. “With all due respect, my lady, I can see the bruise beginning to bloom. I don’t think you’ll be walking for a few days.”

You sink further into the chair, groaning. “I had so many plans for this week,” You whine, covering your face with your hands as you fight off the first wave of tears. “That damned tree root!”

Jenkins blinks once, twice, three times at your use of such language before releasing an amused chuckle. Mrs. Russell shakes her head at the sight, stepping further into the room. The aged Housekeeper settles a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly before uttering, “I shall go alert the Viscount. You do not move from this chair.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Russell,” You promise, flashing a watery smile at the woman as she leaves the room. 

Jenkins’ hand settles on your knee as more tears threaten to fall. “It’s alright, my lady. We’ve all injured ourselves.”

You sniff, drying your eyes with the caring butler’s handkerchief. Jenkins’ shifts back to his desk; resting on the edge of it as he awaits the arrival of the Viscount, knowing full well that Anthony would soon be flying through the door to his office. 

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

“(Y/N)!” The Viscount all but shouts as he rushes down the stairs of Aubrey Hall. Mrs. Russell had explained your injuries, but it had done very little to quash the unadulterated worry settling deep within Anthony’s gut. 

“(Y/N)!” Anthony bellows once more, rushing through the large kitchen to Jenkins’ office where he finds you settled on a chair with your left ankle propped up on a small, dark green ottoman. 

“Darling,” He gasps; the breath rushing from him in one movement. He falls to his knees beside you; his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “What happened?”

“I feel so foolish,” You whisper, voice breaking as fresh tears begin to line your eyes. 

Anthony’s thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “An impossibility. You could never be such a thing.”

“I fell over a tree root, Anthony. Not exactly graceful.”

He clamps his lips shut, determined not to let the relieved laughter fall from his lips. Anthony had only known such fear upon Mrs. Russell’s announcement of your injury once before; the anguished cries of his younger sister Eloise, the one to find their father dead in the garden. To see you sitting in Jenkins’ office, the only injuries being your ankle, scraped hands and your pride, Anthony could have wept in relief. 

“You don’t have to be graceful,” Anthony whispers, “You just have to be okay.”

“I’m okay now that you’re here,” You whisper, leaning in at the same time as your husband. 

Anthony kisses you as if there wasn’t an audience at the door. Unhurried, Anthony holds you close, his hands moving from your cheeks to your neck before settling on your shoulders. 

He breaks the kiss; dropping one, two, three quick kisses to your mouth before pulling away completely. “We’ll call the doctor tomorrow morning. For now, I want you to rest. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.”

“You can’t carry me all the way to our room!” You laugh, “I’ll have to hop part of the way.”

“Not a chance, darling.”

“I can do it,” You state, crossing your arms stubbornly.

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying you won’t get the chance because I’ll be carrying you the whole way.”

“Anthony, my love, that’s too far.”

“Watch me, darling.”

With that, Anthony scoops you into his arms, your head resting comfortably against his strong shoulder as he begins the climb to your shared bedroom.

-----------

The bed feels close to heaven as you settle on top of the covers; the lush fabric greeting you like an old friend as you sit back against the headboard. Anthony grabs the first pillow he can reach, gingerly lifting your ankle and apologising profusely when you wince in pain as he tucks the pillow underneath. 

“Will you need help changing, my lady?” Your Ladies’ Maid, Annie, asks, having followed Jenkins and Mrs. Russell through the house as Anthony carried you. 

Your husband answers for you. “No, thank you, Annie. Take the rest of the day off, I’ll look after Lady Bridgerton.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Annie answers, curtseying before leaving the room; Jenkins and Mrs. Russell following.

You fix your husband with an interested look. “What?” He asks, a smirk beginning to grace his lips.

“You’re going to look after me, are you?”

“What kind of husband would be if I didn’t?”

“Touché,” You answer with a laugh, “So you’re going to get me changed?”

“As if I haven’t undressed you before,” Anthony smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he begins to undo his cravat. 

“Anthony!” You laugh, throwing one of the many pillows on your bed at your beloved husband. He catches it with ease, throwing it to one side before crawling up the length of the bed, taking care not to jostle your ankle. 

Anthony props himself up by his elbow as he gazes up at you. Your tears have long since dried, but your eyes still show the pain you keenly feel. Anthony frowns; if he could take away your pain, he would – he’s adamant that you should never feel an ounce of pain, but even he couldn’t help the occasional sprained ankle.

“You scared me half to death this morning,” He whispers, reaching for your hand. 

“It’s a sprained ankle, my love. We’ll summon the doctor first thing tomorrow like you said and he’ll confirm our suspicions.”

“Still,” Anthony breathes, bringing your joined hands up to his lips upon which he places a multitude of kisses.

“I have no plans on leaving you prematurely,” You promise, reaching to stroke a hand down his cheek. At the last moment, Anthony turns his face, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. He closes his eyes at the feel of your hand on his cheek; he inhales the familiar, comforting scent of your floral perfume. Rose standing out amongst the rest; he lets the scent take him somewhere calmer as his heart finally begins to slow down. 

“No more walking the grounds alone,” He states, eyebrows furrowing with the severity of his words. 

“I won’t need to if you join me,” You tease, “Think of all the trouble we could cause in the great outdoors.”

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz @iammirrorball @writeroutoftime @joyfullymulti @nuttytani

Anthony Bridgerton taglist: @multifandomfix

[i-am-robie]

 Thanks to @coffeeshib​ for letting me steal the amnesia + wife prompt... I couldn’t help myself. This is not what I thought would come out (content warning for canon typical violence and injuries), mostly this is just Kara being a whole entire idiot and Alex facepalming and Lena just being glad Kara is there for her, as her fake wife while she recovers from another quarterly attempt on her life:

“Supergirl! You have to go!” Alex is yelling at her as they roll Lena into the emergency room at National City General, but Kara is rooted to the spot - she can’t look away. Lena is pale, too pale, and there’s blood all over her dress, cuts and scrapes and bruises already blooming on every piece of exposed skin. She isn’t moving, isn’t breathing on her own right now; the only air making its way into her body is through the ambu bag being operated by a nurse, as women and men in scrubs crowd around the moving gurney, shouting orders. And all of that is terrifying enough, but it isn’t the thing that’s paralyzing Kara.

The reason Kara can’t move, the reason that she is barely breathing, is that she can’t hear Lena’s heart.

“Kara.” Alex is closer now, she steps gently in front of her sister, dropping her voice so that no one else can hear her. “Kara, you have to go, they’re getting away.”

“Alex - “ Kara takes a step forward, as if to walk around her sister, to head towards the doors that Lena and the medical team are disappearing behind.

“I know, Kara, I know,” Alex says, gentle and quiet. The doors shut, and Kara’s eyes snap away from it to her sister's face. Alex looks as terrified as Kara feels; she’s wearing an expression Kara has only seen on her before when it’s Kara who’s hurt. “You can’t do anything for her right now. But you can get the guys who did this.” She reaches for Kara’s arm, squeezes - the pressure is grounding. “You need to go. You need to go right now.”

So Kara goes.

__________________

She returns seven hours later, after dropping the men who carried out the attack on Lena at the DEO and declining to help in the interrogation. She nearly killed them, doesn’t think she has the stomach to listen to them talk. She’d still been in the field when the hospital reached out to let her know that they’d been able to stabilize Lena, restarting her heart, but that she hasn’t woken up yet. Alex had relayed the message to her, but now Alex only shakes her head when Kara asks if there are any updates.

Her sister pulls her aside when Kara says that she’s going to hospital to talk to the doctors, telling Kara quietly that she needs to go home and clean off her suit. When Kara looks down, she sees that Alex is right. She’s covered in blood - some of Lena’s, some of it the men she’s apprehended, none of it hers. It makes her want to sob.

But when she gets out of the bathroom after showering, pulling on soft joggers and a hoodie, Kara finds that she can’t settle. Every time she closes her eyes, every time she blinks, she sees Lena’s lifeless body in the rubble that had been her office, can feel Lena in her arms the moment her heart stopped, and the fact that Lena is supposedly stable doesn’t help at all because she hasn’t woken up.

What if she never wakes up?

Suddenly, Kara can’t breathe. Her chest is tight, the walls of her apartment seeming to flex and close in on her. Her heart rate speeds up and she’s taking choked half-breaths, clenching her fists and blinking away tears.

She can’t lose Lena like this, not after she worked so hard to get her back. Kara looks at the clock. It’s just after midnight. This is definitely not visiting-hours at the hospital, and Lena’s not awake anyway - but Kara needs to see her. Needs to know she’s alive.

Needs to hear her heartbeat again.

It’s all of this - the panic, the desperation, the single-minded focus on getting to Lena - that Kara will blame later when she’s trying to explain what happens next in the weeks to come.

The hospital is deserted except for the staff when Kara walks in through the main entrance and goes up to the ICU where she knows Lena will be. She heads straight for the desk at the front of the unit when she arrives, and introduces herself to a nurse before asking if she can see Lena.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Danvers,” the nurse says, and she does sound sorry in the face of Kara’s distress, “visiting hours aren’t until ten a.m.”

A man in a basketball sweatshirt and jeans walks past them, he scans a small badge that says ‘VISITOR’ in capital letters on a machine at the end of the desk, and nods at the nurse before he disappears down the hallway.

“He’s visiting,’ Kara tries, her voice bordering on frantic, “he’s visiting and I need to see her, you don’t understand, I’m not going to be okay if I don’t see her. Please, just let me...”

“I’m so sorry, honey, it’s immediate family only after hours.”

“I’m her wife,” Kara blurts out. “Please. I’m her wife.”

“You’re her…that’s not in the notes…” The nurse trails off, looking down at the computer in front of her.

“I’m her emergency contact, I’m her wife, please.”

““Oh, yes,” the nurse starts nodding, “I do see that marked here, they called you when she came in. Hmmm...Someone clicked the wrong box under ‘relationship to patient.’” She moves her mouse and clicks on something, then looks back up at Kara. “I’ve fixed that for you, Mrs. Danvers. Let me print you out a visitor badge so you can just scan it in next time.

Kara can feel her panic recede a little. She’s going to see Lena. The nurse takes a blank badge and feeds it into an electronic printer. She hands the finished product to Kara, then gets up and gestures for Kara to follow.

“Now,” the nurse starts as she walks Kara down the dark hallway, the lights on half since it’s night, “she looks a little rough, but I assure you, she’s receiving the very best care there is. Normally you would have been called for consent before we initiated the hypothermia protocol, but since she had an advanced directive on file already, the team went ahead and started it.”

Kara’s barely listening to her, has started to strain her ears for the only sound she’s wanted to hear all day. She nearly collapses in relief when she finds it, below the beeping and the whirring and the buzzing of the machines, unlike any other beat in the building. Lena’s heart is steady, slower than usual, slower than Kara’s ever heard it, but it’s there, rhythmically thumping away.

The nurse brings her to a halt in front of a patient room, Lena’s name on the board outside with a bunch of notations that mean nothing to Kara. She’ll ask Alex to translate.

“She’ll be cold to your touch, that’s alright,” the nurse continues. “The key right now is to try to stop or slow any of the damage she’s suffered as a result of going into cardiac arrest. She lost a lot of blood, and her left femur is broken, along with her right ulna, but there are a lot of reasons to be hopeful. We’ll know more in the forty-eight to seventy-two hours once the protocol is complete.”

Kara refuses to think about most of this. Lena is alive. She’s alive and she’s right on the other side of this door. She clears her throat. “How long...how long can I stay?”

“As long as you like, dear. We’ll round on her in the morning and if you’re still here you can talk to the attending. Also, we’ll be in to check on her, but most of the monitoring is electronic since she’s in a medically induced coma for at least the next two days. There’s a chair that reclines by the bedside, I can grab you a blanket?”

“Please,” Kara says. She stops with her hand on the door, turns back to the nurse. “Thank you.” It comes out wobbly.

“Of course.” The nurse smiles at her. “Go on in, I’ll be right back.”

_____________________

Kara’s woken up by the medical team the next morning during rounds, just as the night shift nurse had promised. She blinks awake and rubs at her eyes, stretching and going to stand up when the team enters.

“Hi Mrs. Danvers, we saw you’d arrived,” a tall woman in a white lab coat says, walking over to Kara on the far side of the room and sticking out her hand to shake. “I’m Dr. Sheldon. We’ll do our best to bring you up to speed now, I’m so glad you were able to make it last night.” She gives Kara a warm smile. “Believe it or not, it really does make a difference when patients are supported, even when they aren’t aware of it.”

The team walks her through their care plan for Lena, how long she’ll have to remain like this before they start the re-warming process, what they’re concerned about and what they’ll be looking for. Her arm and femur have been set and immobilized, but it’s likely that the femur will need to be rebroken and repaired surgically if and when Lena does wake up. Given the invasiveness of the procedure, the delicacy of her present condition, and the unknowns about her cognition, that decision will keep.

When they leave, Kara texts Alex. If the doctors think that it will make a difference for Lena’s recovery to have her here, then she’s going to stay. She’s owed time off anyway. This is the best use of it she can think of.

Two hours later, the door opens, and Kara looks up from the bed, relieved to see Alex standing there, holding a backpack with the food and change of clothing Kara asked her to bring.

“Oh gosh, am I glad to see you,” she says, letting go of Lena’s hand and standing up. She walks around the bed to where Alex has stopped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says, and she’s frowning at Kara. “You have some fucking explaining to do.”

“What?” Kara stops abruptly.

“What?” Alex parrots. She narrows her eyes. “Are you being serious…?” At Kara’s confused expression, Alex rolls her eyes and reaches behind her to shut the door. She walks over to Kara, pulling some take out from the bag and handing it to her, before pulling up one of the swivel chairs a doctor had been using.

Kara takes the food and goes back to her seat.

“So?” Alex prompts.

Kara looks up from the styrofoam container, already having broken apart her chopsticks. “So what?”

“What do you mean...Kara!” Kara freezes, chopsticks frozen in midair clutching a piece of kung pao chicken. There is real frustration and confusion in Alex’s voice. “Imagine my surprise when I sign in at the front desk and the nurse says that my sister-in-law is stable right now. Wanna tell me why the fuck you’re playing house to visit your best friend in the hospital?”

Kara sets the chicken down. “Alex…”

“Kara, you have ten seconds to explain why the entire staff thinks you and Lena are married and the answer had better not actually involve marriage or I swear to god I’ll…”

“They wouldn’t let me in to see her!” Kara bursts out. “I got here last night and I needed to see her, Alex, I needed to. And apparently it’s immediate family only and I panicked, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. “I know Lena is important to you, but Kara, you could have waited ten hours and seen her.”

“I couldn’t.” Kara looks down at her food, not hungry anymore. “Alex, I couldn’t. I almost had a panic attack after you sent me home last night. I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh kiddo.” Kara looks up at that, all the frustration is gone from Alex’s tone. Her sister lets out a sigh. “Lena’s going to get through this and she’s going to get better. And when she does, you have got to tell her how you feel.”

“She’s my best friend.” Kara’s mouth twists. This is not a new conversation, but the stakes seem higher with Lena in the bed beside her, unconscious and battered.

“She is,” Alex agrees. “But she could be more.”

And oh, Kara wants more with every fiber of her being. But more than that, she wants Lena in her life, wants the easy love and affection they’ve finally gotten back to. And she’s been worried about rocking the boat.

“And by the way,” Alex says, pulling her back to the present, “lying to medical professionals is not a good look.” Kara grimaces and ducks her head.

“I know,” she says, glancing at Lena, the ventilator moving her chest up and down slowly. “But they said it’s good for Lena to have someone here, talking to her, holding her hand, even if she doesn’t know. And you know Lillian isn’t going to do that. And Lex is the one who put her here...just let me do this, okay?”

Alex hums. “You’re so lucky I didn’t blow your secret.”

Kara looks over at her sister. “Thank you.”

“Some of us are actually good at lying under pressure. I’m surprised you didn’t tell them she was married to Supergirl.”

“Well I wasn’t dressed as Supergirl.”

“Thank god for small mercies.”

______________________

Lena doesn’t wake up for the next three days.

In the interim, all of their friends visit, but Alex has already warned them about Kara’s new relationship status and other than Nia’s constant giggles, no one comments. Kara doesn’t leave the hospital. She keeps vigil in the chair, occasionally leaving for short periods of time to go down to the cafeteria, or to stretch her legs.

On day four, Alex convinces her to at least go to the DEO to shower and check in with J’onn about  the duties he and M’gann are covering for her.

She’s just getting ready to head back to the hospital when her phone rings.

“Mrs. Danvers?”

“Yes?”

“This is Dr. Sheldon. Your wife has woken up and she’s being evaluated now by neuro, but we wanted you to know first thing.”

Kara has to sit down in the middle of the DEO, the concrete hard and probably cold underneath her, but it’s better than the alternative, which was just going to be letting her knees give out. She closes her eyes tightly. “I’ll be right there.”

She flies back to the hospital, landing in a nearby alley and running into the building with just a touch of superspeed. She makes it onto the unit just in time to see Lena’s care team leaving her room and turning down the hall to the next patient, and as much as Kara wants to get an update from them, the urge to see Lena herself is too much. She walks through the open door and nearly runs into a nurse, who’s moving some of the equipment out, now that Lena is conscious. It’s a nurse Kara is familiar with, her name is Bernadette, she’s been on shift the last two days. Her eyes light up when she sees Kara.

“Your wife is here,” Bernadette says, over her shoulder before Kara can stop her. She smiles warmly as she turns back to Kara. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She slips past Kara and into the hallway.

“My…” Lena’s eyes go wide as she sees Kara standing helpless in front of the now closed door.  Her voice is still scratchy from the extubation. Her hair is greasy and all over the pillow, her right arm and left leg are completely immobilized, there are wires running through the top of her hospital gown, her whole body a tapestry of garish purples and greens and stitches. But she’s awake. Kara has never felt more relieved in her entire life, but it turns to ice in her veins as Lena struggles to speak, clearly confused. “My - my - oh god.” Her eyes start to fill with tears and Kara panics.

“No, Lena, no, it’s not - “ she starts saying, taking quick steps towards the bed.

“Oh god, oh god, Kara,” Lena chokes out, twisting a little in bed and flinching, “they said I only lost a week, they said my memory seemed okay, that there’s no - ”

“We’re not married!” Kara yells out trying to stop the clear spiral Lena is on. Lena’s eyes go wide, but she does stop looking like she’s about to start sobbing. “We’re not married,” Kara repeats, in a normal voice this time.

“Then why…”

Kara winces. “I might have told the hospital staff that we are. Married, that is.”

Lena looks wary, small and weak and confused in the bed, and she’s frowning a little at Kara now. It doesn’t even matter, though, because the feeling of seeing Lena awake is returning with every word she speaks, and Kara feels something in her chest open up. She has to resist walking over and climbing into bed with her and holding her, knows she needs to explain first.

In every single way Kara played out this moment all week in her head, not once is this how it went - she wants Lena to be smiling, to be okay, or at least as okay as one can be after coming out of a medically induced coma, with a number of near catastrophic injuries still to be dealt with. She certainly didn’t imagine she’d be contributing to the disorientation and isolation Lena’s projecting right now.

Lena’s eyes dart around Kara’s face. Kara takes a deep breath.

“The first night you were here, I had to see you.” She starts twisting her hands together, takes another step towards the bed. “And it was late, and even though I’m your emergency contact, they said no after hours visitors except for family and I panicked.”

“You panicked.” Lena sounds like she’s unsure how panic would lead someone to pretend to be married, and honestly, now that Kara is having to explain the decision, she’s not really sure either. The only thing she knows is that she doesn’t regret it. Would do it again, in fact.

“I knew if they thought I was your wife, they’d let me in to see you. And Lena, I had to see you. I had to. You were - “ Kara cuts herself off, can feel the tightness in her chest, closing around her heart like a vice. “Your heart stopped before I could get you to the hospital. The last time I saw you, I didn’t know if - “ A small sob works it’s way up her throat, and Kara’s eyes are burning. She feels a tear break free from her lashes. “I needed to hear your heartbeat.”

An unreadable expression crosses Lena’s face as Kara takes the seat by her bed that she’s occupied for the last week. To Kara’s great relief, Lena reaches out her left hand, lays it on the edge of the bed, palm up. Kara grabs for it with both of her own.

And Rao, the feeling of Lena’s hand, still cold, but undeniably warmer, squeezing back when Kara grips tightly - she doesn’t know how to describe this feeling. It starts a fresh wave of sobs in her, of relief this time, rather than terror.

“Hey,” Lena says, punctuating it with another flex of her fingers around the back of Kara’s hand. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m here. You saved me. I’m okay, see?”

And really, that just makes Kara cry harder.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” she chokes out.

“You are,” Lena says, disengaging their hands and bringing her fingers up to Kara’s face, wiping at the tears. “You are, god, I was just thrown. I thought...I thought, it doesn't matter what I thought.” She tries to laugh and ends up flinching.

“Oh no, are you okay, should I call the doctor?” Kara immediately reaches forward, lays a hand on Lena’s hip above the sheets and wipes furiously at her face with the other.

“It’s the broken ribs,” Lena grits out, jaw flexing as she drops her hand away from Kara’s face and back onto the bed. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I’m just so glad you’re awake,” Kara says, leaning forward again and brushing some of the hair out of Lena’s face, trying to tuck it behind her ear.

That’s how Bernadette finds them when she returns, Kara gently touching Lena’s forehead, and rubbing her hip, the two of them so close that Kara might as well climb in next to her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, smiling at the two of them. “The attending would like to pop in with the head of ortho to talk about surgical options for your femur. Should I tell her to come back later?”

Kara moves to stand up, she doesn’t want to delay anything about Lena’s care, but Lena reaches for her hand again, and Kara’s powerless to do anything but lace their fingers together and sit back down.

Lena takes a shallow breath, “Can my wife stay?”

My wife. Hearing it come out of Lena’s mouth does something to Kara that feels a little dangerous, makes the room spin a bit. Her heart feels as if it’s expanding and being squeezed at the same time. My wife. My wife. My wife.

“Of course, she’s more than welcome to stay,” Bernadette says. “It’s probably a good idea, actually, now that there are care decisions to make.”

_____________________

“Let me get this straight,” Alex says, her head in her hands. Kelly reaches out to rub her back. “You’re still pretending to be married, and Lena is playing along with it?”

Kara nods. They’re sitting down in the cafeteria while Lena gets a sponge bath, something that Kara is trying very hard not to think about. It’s been nearly three weeks, one major operation, and thankfully no more complications.

And Kara has been here through it all. She’s started leaving for blocks of time during the day (it turns out she didn’t have a month worth of vacation saved up and Alex had nearly had an aneurysm when Kara asked if she was allowed to use family medical leave act time), but she’s spent nearly every night in the hospital with Lena since. The medical team loves them, has started talking to them about how devoted Kara is. Maybe Kara’s playing into it a little, bringing flowers, and Lena’s favorite foods, and always, always touching her in some way when she’s in the room.

“You know they’re going to build her discharge plan around you, right?” Alex squints at her. “Have you considered that?”

Kara flushes. “Actually,” she brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck, adjusts her glasses for good measure, “we’ve agreed that I’ll just move in with Lena for a little while. She can hire someone during the day, but I’ll be around at night and I can help with the rehab. So, um, it’s fine.”

“You’re both fucking idiots.”

_________________

“I’ve been home for an hour and I’m already regretting every choice in my life that’s lead to this point. This is humiliating.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kara laughs, “no it isn’t.”

“Kara, you’re washing my hair in the kitchen sink because I can’t even wash myself right now with this fucking cast and brace on.”

Kara grins, squirting shampoo onto her hand and setting the bottle down on the marble countertop. Lena is sitting in the wheelchair, left leg propped up on the supports. She’s leaning back with her head over the edge of the sink, rolled up towels supporting her neck and her eyes are closed. She’s frowning, but it’s the frown she wears when she’s trying too hard not to smile. It makes Kara want to kiss it right off her face. She takes a deep breath, instead.

Kara is just so grateful that she gets to see Lena like this, hair stringy from the hospital, oversize sweatshirt with one sleeve bunched up over the top of the lime green cast on her right arm. The post-surgical femoral fracture brace looks uncomfortable, but Lena hasn’t complained about it at all. So, fine, maybe this nearly debilitating urge to kiss her best friend, to ask her if the last few weeks could be real, instead of fake (not the marriage part, not now, anyway, but the relationship part sure), is getting more and more intrusive. That doesn’t mean Kara can’t continue to ignore it until Lena’s better.

She finishes washing Lena’s hair and if she takes extra time massaging in the conditioner and making sure the water temperature is absolutely perfect, well, that’s just being a good caretaker. She sets Lena up in her bedroom, then goes back to the kitchen to clean up 

“Ok, Lena,” Kara says, walking back into the bedroom. “You officially have zero edible things in your apartment. I’m going to make a list and head to the grocery store for supplies, ok? Your next meds can’t be taken on an empty stomach.”

“You’re underestimating my iron constitution.” Lena frowns unhappily in bed. “We can just order some, you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy, okay?” Kara smiles at Lena.

Sure, they could order groceries, but she wants to go get them, to pick them out herself, and bring them back. It makes her feel so good to be able to do things like this: wash her hair, go get groceries, make her something to eat. The best part of this whole terrible ordeal is that she’s gotten to take care of Lena, to show her, not just tell her, how important she is to Kara. It warms her up from the inside out.

“You sure I’m allowed to be by myself?” Lena teases, breaking Kara out of her thoughts. “I haven’t been left to my own devices in weeks now. Just imagine all the trouble I could get into.” She raises an eyebrow.

Kara laughs and shakes her head, drawn closer to Lena like a magnet. Lena’s tucked into bed, leg propped up on pillows to keep the brace comfortable, two books on the nightstand beside her, a glass of water within easy reach, and the next round of medications in a small porcelain bowl that Kara repurposed from the kitchen. Her hair is still wet from being washed, and although there are dark circles around her eyes, and her cheekbones are too sharp from the weight she lost in the hospital, Kara doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything more beautiful than Lena right at this exact moment.

She walks over to the bed and sits down next to Lena, reaching over to move the glass of water back from the edge of the nightstand and onto a coaster. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll bet you a whole order of potstickers that you’re asleep when I get back.” She reaches across Lena, adjusts the towel covering up her pillow to keep it from getting wet.

When she pulls back slightly, she’s startled by how close Lena’s face is to hers. Lena is looking at her with such unadulterated fondness, that Kara can’t help reaching up and tucking a wet tendril of hair back behind Lena’s ear. “I’ll be back so soon you won’t even know I was gone.”

“I always know when you’re gone,” Lena says, the corners of her mouth lifting up, her eyes crinkling lightly. Kara’s hand has drifted from Lena’s ear to the back of her head, her thumb brushing gently at the soft skin just below Lena’s jaw.

When she retells the story of what happens next later, Alex will roll her eyes and mutter under hear breath, but Kara will swear this is the truth: without even thinking about it, she leans forward and kisses Lena on the lips, quick and soft, then stands and turns to go, pulling her phone out of her pocket so she can start making a grocery list.

“You can drop the act now,” Lena says, a little stiffly.

“Huh?” Kara whips around, more at Lena’s tone than at her words, and looks at her in confusion. Lena’s face is bright red.

“Kara, we’re - I’m home, there’s no hospital staff to convince anymore.” She sounds a little upset and Kara, feels her forehead crinkle as she replays the last several seconds in her head: she moved Lena’s water, adjusted the towel behind her head, smoothed Lena’s hair, and…

“Oh Rao, oh gosh.” She takes a step forward, then back abruptly, as she realizes that she’s just kissed Lena on the mouth. She puts one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip, spins in a small circle. “Lena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine,” Lena says, her voice sounding calm and even now that Kara is having a meltdown, but her heart is doing some sort of high speed gallop in her chest and it’s giving Kara the impression that this is not actually fine.

Oh no, oh gosh… “Lena, I’m sorry, - ”

“I get it.” Lena cuts her off, holding up a hand to stop her. “The whole act, it’s a hard habit to break.” She drops her hand to the bed and laughs lightly, picking at the blanket. “Honestly I’m surprised we made it this long without accidentally doing that.”

“Accidently. Yes.” Kara’s nodding so hard, she feels like her head might come off. “It was an accident.” That might be a convenient way of putting it, but it doesn’t change the fact that Kara’s been wanting to kiss Lena, wants it to be as un-accidental as possible. And aren’t accidents things like tripping on the carpet, or spilling a drink at dinner? She may not have been thinking when she did it, but Kara knows there’s nothing accidental about that kiss.

But Lena’s giving her an out, and Kara can’t bring herself not to take it.

“I’m just going to - ” Kara gestures over her shoulder and then she flees.

“Alex, I kissed her.” Kara’s made it outside the apartment, but her heart hasn’t slowed down. She didn’t even bother making a list after walking out of Lena’s bedroom, just went straight to the elevator, dialing Alex before she’d even hit the lobby. Her stomach is squirmy, she feels like she might throw up.

“Finally,” Alex says, letting out what might be a relieved sigh.

“What do you mean finally?” Kara feels hysterical.

“I mean finally, idiot. Watching the two of you for the past three weeks has been the most painful experience of my life, I’m glad you finally did it.”

“She thinks it was because of the act!” Kara nearly yells. A man walking by looks at her, narrowing his eyes and giving her a wide berth. “She thinks it’s because of the act, Alex!”

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

“Kara Danvers, are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No,” Kara wails. “I didn’t even mean to do it! Or, well. I meant to do it, but I didn’t know I was doing it. I was making sure she had everything she needed and then I was leaving to go to the grocery story and somewhere in the middle I kissed her! And she got kinda upset even though she said she wasn’t and she says it’s fine because it was an accident. And it was an accident, at least in the sense that I wasn’t thinking when I did it and god I didn’t even ask if she wanted to kiss me, but I meant it, Alex, I meant it.”

Kara can picture Alex right now: that tight, unhappy expression on her face, fingers pinching her nose between her eyes.

“Okay, I swore to Kelly I wasn’t going to do this, but that was before you lost your damn mind and kissed her.” Kara can hear Alex take a deep breath. “You need to go back upstairs right now and confess, Kara.”

“What?” Kara practically screeches. She spins in a circle. “No, this isn’t the right time. I’m supposed to be helping her, I’m supposed to be taking care of her, I can’t put this on her right now. What if she doesn’t feel the same, what if this ruins everything, what if - “

Thankfully Alex cuts her off. “That argument worked before you kissed her and decided to let her believe you didn’t mean to do it. And before you argue with me, you might not have known you were doing it, but you absolutely meant to do it, Kara.”

Kara is now facing Lena’s apartment and gently knocking her forehead against it.

“Kara, I heard that crack, stop headbutting the building.” Kara stops, keeps her forehead pressed to the cool limestone. Alex pauses, and her voice is gentle when she continues. “You gotta tell her, kiddo. You’ve been down the whole lying path with her before and while I don’t think this is the kind of lie that would cause her to try removing our free-will again, I do think that you guys decided on honesty as your way forward. You either own that, or you don’t.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut. “If we can get through that, we can get through this.”

“That’s the spirit. And hey, if for some reason things don’t go well and you feel like you can’t stay with her? Kelly or I would be happy to swap out for you tonight. Just in case you need some space.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

“But Kara, I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

Kara doesn’t feel much better when she hangs up with Alex, but she knows her sister is right. She’s got to tell Lena.

And to be honest, Kara can’t imagine a world in which Lena would be upset with her for having feelings, regardless of whether they’re reciprocated. They’ll be able to work through this, even if it hurts for a while. She’s had friends fall in love with her before, and she’s always been able to keep them as friends afterwards. God, maybe Winn has some advice for me, she thinks.

So Kara takes a deep breath and goes back inside. Groceries can wait.

She’s trembling when she lets herself back into Lena’s apartment. It’s nerves, anticipation more than anything. She’s about to confess something that she can’t, won’t take back and it will change things between them, even if only for a while.

Lena looks up from her book when Kara makes her way back into the bedroom. She sets it down beside her hip on the bed and cocks her head.

“Well that was fast. Did Supergirl get my groceries?” She gives Kara a smile.

“I’m in love with you.” Well that’s one way to start this conversation. “And I didn’t kiss you accidentally.”

Lena’s smile drops, her eyes widening in surprise. Everything about her seems to freeze.

“Before you say anything, I need to get this out. I’m not telling you because I’m expecting anything. I don’t want anything to change, I mean, I do, clearly, but I don’t if that’s not what you want.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut and looks at the ceiling. She really should have thought this through. “I’ve known for a while, actually, I was just worried about what it might mean, if you didn’t feel the same way.” She drops her gaze back to Lena. “But then you almost died. And I pretended to be your wife. And I was planning on telling you once you’re totally recovered. Except then I kissed you without even thinking about it and I can’t lie about this, Lena. It isn’t good for either of us. So. Yeah. Just. Tell me what you need.”

Lena’s looking at her with an expression Kara can’t read, but she doesn’t look unhappy, or afraid, or upset...

“Kara, do you remember when that nurse told me my wife had shown up?”

“Yes,” Kara says, frowning, because she doesn't understand where Lena is going with this. “Of course I do, you were panicked that you’d experienced severe brain damage.”

Lena shakes her head, pats the space on the bed next to her.

Kara feels a weight lift from her shoulders: no matter how this goes, if Lena is asking her to come closer, then they’re going to be okay. She walks across the carpet.

“You’re right,” Lena says as Kara comes closer, “I was worried, but that wasn’t the only thing that made me panic.”

“What else was it?” Kara sits down and looks at her lap, bringing her hands together to fidget. She can feel Lena’s body heat next to her, but she doesn’t want to reach out unless Lena does it first. “Was it the idea of being married to me?” She laughs. She can laugh about this.

“No, darling,” Lena says. She reaches for Kara’s hands, smoothing her fingers across them to still them. Darling, that’s a good sign, right? “Kara, as terrified as I was that there was more damage, my first thought was that somehow I’d lost memories of us: of you falling in love with me, of dating and first kisses and someone proposing and a wedding.” Lena pauses and Kara stares at their joined hands. She hears more than sees Lena take a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve been in love with you for so long it broke my heart to think that those things had happened and I couldn’t remember them.”

Kara whips her head around to look at Lena. Her best friend is smiling, and her eyes are a little wet like maybe she’s overwhelmed and might cry and oh gosh, does Kara understand that feeling right now.

“You love me,” she says, feeling her own eyes start to fill with tears.

Lena nods.

“You’re in love with me,” Kara can’t help clarifying. This is something out of a dream.

Lena nods again.

“Can I…” Kara reaches for Lena’s face, trails her knuckles down Lena’s cheek and watches in awe as Lena leans into the touch.  “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes,” Lena breaths out, smiling, and it’s blinding. “But only if it’s not an accident.”

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

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Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

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To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

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The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

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He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

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It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,778 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: None really! A/N: This is the final part of a miniseries! Find the previous part on the Masterlist!

Your name: submit What is this?

The next morning, Daryl was still sitting watch outside the barn as he had promised you when some movement up at the farmhouse caught his eye. He straightened up when he saw it was you stepping onto the porch. He immediately started heading over and met you at the steps. The bruising on your arm from your boyfriend’s hand and fingers and on your face from where he had hit you had darkened overnight and his stomach twisted and clenched with anger. The split in your bottom lip glared out against the delicate pink around it, a dark crimson slice.

“Hey. Are ya alright?” His blue eyes were narrowed in concern.

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” You glanced over at the makeshift campsite. It was quiet and still. “Everyone still sleeping?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Ya sure ya should be up and about? Ya got a concussion.”

“I’m okay.” You gave him a long look and Daryl waited. He could sense you were on the edge of saying something. You tried to gulp down the nerves. “Would you—will you take me to go talk to him?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Ya dun owe him anythin’,” he drawled. The gravel was heavier in his voice than usual.

Daryl nudged his nose up at you in a nod. He turned to lead the way but you called him back.

“Daryl—” There was worry and anxiety etched in your brow and somehow the archer knew what you were trying to ask.

“I won’t leave ya alone with him. Don’t worry.”

You gulped, grateful that he understood implicitly, immediately. You went down the steps and fell into stride beside him.

“How’d ya sleep? Ya get some rest?” he asked, casting a sideways glance in your direction. It almost physically hurt him when his eyes hitched on your injuries.

You nodded. “A little. Except Hershel had someone coming in to wake me up every hour or so… I guess that’s to make sure I wasn’t going into a coma after the—the concussion…”

Daryl felt that familiar burn of rage in his chest. “Is it that serious?” he asked, stopping dead. “Maybe ya really shouldn’t be up. We should get ya—”

“I’m fine. I think he was just being cautious,” you countered.

Daryl gulped under the fixed gaze of your eyes but ultimately nodded and started toward the barn again.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked kindly, concern in your tone.

Daryl shrugged vaguely. “Nah. But s’alright. Wanted to make sure he was locked up and couldn’t get to ya. Once the others are up, I’ll catch a few hours.”

You gave him a grateful smile, feeling your cheeks warm a little with a blush. “Thanks for that.” He only nodded.

Finally, you both arrived at the barn and Daryl unlocked the door and paused with his hand on the latch. “Ya sure?” You looked a little afraid, but you nodded. He swung the door open and followed you inside. He passed in front of you as you crossed the space to a huddled figure leaning partially up against the opposite wall, half-slumped over toward the dirt floor. Daryl rushed up to him and kicked the bottom of his boot hard. “Wake up, dumbass!” he growled.

He stirred and lifted his head. You could see that his face was bloody and bruised, with one eye completely swollen shut, the result of Daryl’s fists the day before. You felt sick when he noticed you were there, his whole body language changed. His whole demeanor changed, but you knew it was just all an act.

“Oh, baby. Babe, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you! I just got so jealous. Please, I just—I love you so much!” He was immediately pleading. Your heart started to race and the sick feeling in your stomach only increased.

Daryl was immediately on him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and thrusting him hard against the wall. “Shut the fuck up! I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word out of ya. Ya ain’t even deserve to look at her, but she’s got some things she wants to say, and you’re gonna listen. Got it?” Your boyfriend averted his eyes and said nothing, and Daryl released his hold on him. Your ex-boyfriend’s eyes drifted back to you. They were cold, hard.

Daryl stood just behind you, watching the scene carefully for anything going the slightest millimeter wrong.

“They asked me what to do with you. You’re gonna be gone, but whether that’s away from here or dead is mostly up to me.” You paused and gulped again at the tightness in your throat. “But I think a quick and easy death is just too good for you. Besides, I don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands, even yours. So, I’m gonna tell Rick to take you way out, alone, into the middle of nowhere and just leave you. So maybe you’ll feel a modicum of the fear you put me through every day. You’ll experience how alone I felt, how isolated. How helpless. How robbed of every part of me that mattered. And then the walkers can have you. Or maybe you’ll meet someone just like yourself and get a taste of your own medicine.” Your bottom lip was quivering a little but you were determined to get through this. “And there’s something else you should know. Right now, this is the last time I will ever think about you. But you? You’ll think about me every day. You’ll think about what you did. But I don’t care about you anymore. It’ll be like you never existed.”

You stared at him once more for a long moment and then turned to look at Daryl. He nudged his nose up at you in a nod and you headed for the door, leaving behind the man you had once loved who you now didn’t recognize. Daryl latched and locked up the barn and you waited for him, your arms across yourself again, subconscious armor. He was anxiously chewing his bottom lip when he turned around and caught your striking eyes. “Ya did good in there. Ya feel better? After havin’ your say?”

Your expression turned a little sad. “Maybe a tiny bit. But mostly no. Besides, it was a lie. He’ll haunt me for a while. But it’ll be different. He won’t have control over me anymore. And I won’t live every day like I’m walking on eggshells.” You studied Daryl’s face for a moment and felt a warmth growing in your chest. “Thank you, Daryl. For everything.”

He shook his head. “S’nothin’.”

Your lips curved in a small smile and Daryl watched with surprise as you came close to him and stretched yourself up on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Setting your heels back down, your eyes flickered between his, memorizing the shades of blue in them. His expression was a little impassive, but you didn’t mind. You smiled up at him again. “Get some sleep,” you said, gently touching his arm, before turning and heading away back up to the farmhouse. The trail of warmth and slight tingling, like the remnants of a static charge, were still strong on his skin even as your figure faded away.

Daryl’s heart was hammering in his chest still as he laid down on his cot in his tent, chasing sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Two Months Later “Hey!” Daryl jumped up from the log he was seated on beside his small fire circle as he saw you starting to cross the green space toward the tree line. You paused and turned at the sound of his voice and the smile you gave him sent a rush of heat to his chest which quickly poured into his face. You just brightened when you smiled and he found it damn near irresistible. “Where the hell ya think you’re going?” he said, jest plain in his voice as he jogged over to you.

You adjusted the strap of your pack on your shoulder and rested the other hand on the hilt of your knife, which was sheathed at your hip. “Gonna go see what I can forage. If I have to listen to Rick and Shane bickering anymore today, I’m going to lose my mind,” you joked.

“Yer just gonna go off out there? By yerself?” he asked you, his brow drawing down low over his blue eyes. “Real nice. Where the hell is my invite?”

You laughed jovially, and Daryl felt another jolt to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. He loved the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, and how now you gave into it with your whole being. You were just like that, despite everything you had been through and despite the state of the world, you just gave into it. It gave Daryl hope. You straightened up and gave him a half-smile. “Well, where’s your crossbow? Come on. How are you gonna keep me safe from walkers without it?”

Daryl smiled back at you, just a small one like he always did, but it still filled you up every time you saw it. He lifted his chin in a nod. “Be right back,” he drawled. You were happy to wait for him while he grabbed his gear and returned to your side.

You fell into stride beside each other at an easy pace and headed toward the tree line. “So, Rick and Shane were goin’ at it again, huh?” Daryl asked. “What was it this time?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Nothing. That’s the thing… Shane is just—I don’t know. He takes any excuse he can to pick an argument with Rick. He’s just—I don’t know…” you trailed off. “He makes me uncomfortable,” you said.

Daryl glanced over at you, his face darkening with a shadow of concern. “He do somethin’?” He felt a swell of protective fire in his chest.

You met his blue eyes and shook your head. “No. No, nothing. I just mean he seems… unstable,” you said. You had reached the edge of the woods now and you pulled a small bag out of the side pocket of your pack and unsnapped the loop over your knife hilt. You scanned the ground for edible plants and mushrooms.

“Ya, cuz he is,” Daryl agreed, glancing around to check for any sign of walkers. “I’ve known plenty of assholes like him before… He just seems to be better at foolin’ people about what he really is. At least he was. Promise me somethin’, though?” You looked up at the archer with a quizzical expression. “If he does anything to ya, tries anything ya don’t like—Hell, him or anyone else, ya tell me, alright?”

You suddenly lost your courage to hold his eyes in the wake of his protectiveness and you felt your cheeks burn a little with a blush. You averted your eyes back toward the ground but nodded. “What would I do without you, Daryl?”

He shrugged and hummed a vague and somewhat dismissive noise, even while he felt that fluttering between his lungs he always associated only with you.

You passed the time easily beside Daryl, and managed to find some wild mushrooms and berries that would add some much-needed variety and nutrition to everyone’s diet. You had just been thinking that it was probably time to head back when Daryl suddenly straightened up and looked skyward.

“We better get goin’,” he said. “S’gonna storm.”

No sooner had he spoken those words than the light seemed to shift and darken. You nodded. “Yeah. Those clouds don’t exactly look friendly.” You shoved the bag you had been collecting berries in back into your pack. “Let’s go.”

Daryl led the way quickly through the underbrush as thunder rolled in the distance. You both emerged from the tree line into the pasture just as lightening cracked and the sky opened up and unleashed a torrent of rain. You were both soaked in an instant and you let out a gasp of surprise at the coldness of the rain. Glancing over at Daryl, who was squinting at you through the downpour, you couldn’t help laughing at the situation as you tried to fend off shivers as the freezing rainwater rolled down your skin.

“C’mon! My tent is closest!” he yelled over the rain. You nodded and took off with him through the grey veil, running with abandon the way you had when you were a child trying to get home before dark. Your socks squished inside your inundated boots as they pounded the saturated ground. Your jeans were heavy with moisture and you felt your clothing and hair clinging to you as you moved.

When you arrived at Daryl’s campsite, he hastily unzipped his tent and held the cloth door open for you to pass inside first. You rushed in but tried to corral yourself in the middle of the tent so you wouldn’t shed rainwater all over his space. “Oh my God,” you said with a laugh, looking over at him as he zipped the door closed. “Soaked through and through.” He set his crossbow down at the edge of the tent and you gulped as you watched water droplets roll down from his wet hair and descend over his collarbone and strong arms. You tried your hardest to prevent a shiver from wracking through you, but to no avail. You were soaked and the autumn rain had been stinging with cold.

Daryl was trying his hardest to avoid looking at how your wet clothes were clinging to the curves and angles of your body and he was grateful for a distraction when he saw you shiver. He went to his duffel bag and pulled out a clean towel.

“Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully and trying to wring the water from your hair with it before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Not sure how much good it will do,” you said, laughing as you looked down at your sodden clothing and boots.

“Guess I shoulda pulled us outta there a little sooner,” he drawled, still avoiding looking at you because every time he did he felt like his brain started to go fuzzy and the warmth kindling in his chest was almost overwhelming.

It suddenly struck you how familiar this felt, but at the same time how different. “Not the first time I’ve hidden from the rain in here,” you said suddenly, not even really meaning to speak the thought aloud.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to your face. That night had been on his mind since the moment the first raindrop hit him. He anxiously chewed his bottom lip and nodded.

The atmosphere between you in the small space, with the rain hammering on the outside of the tent, was sudden charged and heavy.

“But it feels different this time,” you said softly. “Nothing to hide from. Nowhere I’m supposed to be.”

Daryl’s blue eyes flickered between yours. “I shoulda known,” he said regretfully. “I shoulda done somethin’ about him sooner.”

You gave him a sad smile and shook your head. “That’s not on you. Any of it. You did enough.” You took a somewhat hesitant step toward him and Daryl watched as the towel slipped from around your shoulders and fell to the floor in a soft pile, forgotten in the intensity of the moment. “You do more than enough.” You studied his face, each fleck of blue in his eyes, the angles of his jaw. His shirt was clinging to his strong chest and you wanted more than anything at that moment to reach out and touch him, press your hands gently to him in the way he too deserved to be touched.

Daryl couldn’t look away from you. Your gaze, you were magnetic and he felt like he was being drawn in, pulled in. He was seconds away from tumbling into something he would be only too happy to get lost in.

But you suddenly turned and Daryl watched, puzzled, as you went to the upended box that served as a table beside his cot. You carefully moved aside a stray crossbow bolt and a wrinkled paperback and found what you were looking for; the pressed honeysuckle you had found that night, months ago, picked even longer ago before that. You laid the delicate, papery flower out on your palm before turning back to the archer.

He shifted a little anxiously as he saw what you had in your hand.

“You kept it. This whole time,” you said, glancing from the crimson bloom back up to meet his eyes, which were narrowed slightly at you as he waited to see where this was going, nervous but reeling with hopeful anticipation. “Why?” you asked simply. You were merely half a foot apart now, your palm held up flat between the two of you revealing the muted shades of green and red.

Daryl gulped down his nerves and shifted in a shrug. “Ya know why,” he said simply, his deep voice almost feeling like it was wrapping around you.

You stared back down at the flower in your hand. “It’s just a flower. It’s not—” But whatever you had been about to say was stopped by Daryl’s lips on yours. He clasped your face delicately in his hands and kissed you with an urgency that wouldn’t be ignored, couldn’t be.

At first you let out a soft noise of surprise, but Daryl’s nerves vanished as your lips gave softly beneath his and suddenly you were kissing him back eagerly. Your hands were on his sides, feeling the tensed muscles beneath his wet shirt and neither of you noticed the honeysuckle bloom floating gently to the floor as you sank into one another. You arched up onto your toes and looped your arms around his neck, pulling into him more deeply. Daryl’s hands lightly found your waist, your hips, one finally settling in the small of your back keeping you against him with gentle pressure. The world outside seemed to fall away and vanish and it was just you and him and the sound of the storm. The kiss was hungry and fervent but eventually softened and Daryl watched with disbelief as you pulled slightly away and your eyes opened, eyelashes fluttering, revealing the striking color of your irises which he was finally able to study as closely as he wanted, memorizing each hue, fleck, and ring of color. Your lips curved in a smile as you looked up at him and you were sure your cheeks were flushed, because wow. God you had wanted to do that for a long time, longer than you had admitted to yourself.

You clasped his face gently and ran your thumb along his strong jaw, subconsciously biting your bottom lip.

You felt one of his fingers lightly moving on your lower back, like he needed to feel you, really feel you to know this was real.

“Can we, uhh, do that again?” you said with a smile.

Daryl’s mouth twitched up on one side in a smile and he nudged his nose up at you. Before he could even lean in you had arched up on your toes again and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was soft and wanting and sent bolts of electricity through both of you, sending goosebumps rising on your skin that weren’t at all related to your soaked clothes.

You finally broke apart, breathless, and loved that Daryl’s arms were still around you. He seemed unwilling to let you go, and you hoped he never would. You were both all shy smiles for a moment until another shiver ran through you and Daryl felt it beneath his hands. One of his eyebrows immediately quirked down and he broke with you only long enough to collect the towel from the floor and wrap it around you again. His fingers then gently plucked the pressed honeysuckle from the canvas floor and he reached around you to replace it on his improvised nightstand. “Ya should go get some dry clothes on. Can’t have ya getting’ sick.”

Your eyes were still connected with his and you nodded vaguely. “Yeah. But I don’t want to leave,” you said quietly. Daryl chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“Ya ain’t gotta. I got plenty of dry clothes in here. C’mon,” he said, gently tapping his fingers where they were resting on your lower back. “We can both change. I’ll face this way. I won’t look. Promise.”

You smiled widely at his sweetness and nodded in agreement. The idea of cozying up in Daryl’s clothes sounded like the best thing you could imagine at that moment, wrapped in his smell, and safe and warm with him close by.

Soon you were both in dry clothes. Daryl’s eyes drank in the sight of you in his oversized shirt and gulped at the rush of heat pouring outward from his chest. He’d wanted this for so long and now that it was happening it still didn’t feel real. You went and sank down on Daryl’s cot, moving toward the back edge to make room for him, giving him an irresistible and expectant look. The archer sank down beside you, gently putting one of his arms underneath your head and draping the other over your waist, his fingertips lightly tickling your back. You both just couldn’t stop looking at the other, and the sound of the storm outside was the perfect backdrop.

You reached out and rested your palm lightly against his chest, feeling the expansion of his lungs and the steady cadence of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry it too me so long to figure this out,” you said softly.

Daryl only looked back at you with a soft expression. “Don’t be. I woulda waited as long as I had to. You’re worth it.”

You gave him a smile and a look of wonder before kissing him softly again. “So are you.”

[iguana-eyanna]

What Was Left Behind Pt. 11

Summary: After the events of the Sokovia Accords, Steve is now a fugitive to the U.S. government and has left you in the worst way possible. What happens when fate reunites the two again when you are most vulnerable?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x pregnant reader

Warning: hospitalization, problems within the pregnancy, Tony fighting Steve, mentions of possible character death

Sam and Steve were already heading to your house until they received Nat’s frantic call about you. Steve was driving the truck and never had this man break so many traffic laws (and crushed the steering wheel like the Hulk) in his life.

Once they got to the base, Steve didn’t even park as he just jumped out of the car to head to you. At the medbay, Steve saw Dr. Choi coming out of a closed curtain room.

“What happened?” he said worryingly. The doctor lowered her head down to find the right words. “I found out that the blood transfusion made her condition worse. The baby absorbed all of your enhanced DNA, making them grow at an immense rate. She needs to deliver soon.” she said.

Steve’s head was spinning, trying to wrap this information. “I don’t understand, I thought it was making her better. Won’t the baby be premature?” Choi’s face saddens as she has more bad news.

“The baby is practically full term, almost as if the fetus is overdue. Her body can’t sustain such strain. She must have been going through this pain for a while now. I suggest an all-natural birth as performing a c-section is too risky. We don’t know if either of them will survive such stress.”

Nat comes out of your room, looking at a very pale Steve “Hey big guy, let’s sit down… ey?” he nods his head as he slowly takes a seat while Nat wrapped up the conversation with Dr. Choi till she left for the nearest lab. Nat takes the seat next to Steve, unsure what to say.

“She was fine this morning. Why wouldn't she tell me something was wrong?" Steve questions, trying to grasp what's happening. Nat purses her lips, placing her hand on his shoulder for support. "Because she didn't want to lose you." she says in a faint tone.

Steve shoots his direction to her. "What do you mean?" he asks, flabbergasted. Nat looks down, trying to choose her next words carefully.

"Steve, she knew from the start that this pregnancy was going to be the death of her. She left the only life she's known to escape threats for your baby. Not only that, but she had to do it ALONE. Now that she's with you, she didn't want to throw away the limited time you guys had. I know y/n, she probably wanted to spend her last memories with the ones she cherished instead of wasting away on a hospital bed."

Steve stays silent, suffering inside with tears drenching his face. He faces in your direction, probably thinking you are scared for your life. Steve turns to nat as she nods her head for him to visit you, standing up and wiping his tears away to go to you.

You were in bad condition. It was as if all the color from your skin had drained away. The only color that appeared was the purple bruises that were forming at your exposed belly that was wrapped in belts to monitor the baby's heartbeat.

"Please don't look at me like that." you whispered as you struggled to get up from your lying position, trying to grab a thicker blanket to cover your shivering figure.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked as he grabbed the blanket and tucked you gently. “Believe me, I suffered worst.” you said as you straightened up a bit, rubbing your very big belly. He showed a face of guilt, but you just clutched his hand softly as he slowly sat at the edge of the left side of the bed.

He held your left hand, gliding his finger on your wedding ring. "Remember when I proposed to you?" he asks lightly. You begin to chuckle as you stare into his blue eyes.

"How could I forget? You were so nervous that we arrived late to the reservation. You were so persistent that we walked the block to a nearby diner and it started raining. I could tell you were visibly upset but I said 'the worst moments happen before the great ones.' Just like that, you knelt on one knee."

He smiles down in his lap, remembering his past frustration that melted away because of your reassuring words. "and I said that 'because of you, you changed everything in my life into something greater. I knew that the second I met you, I couldn't go a day without your smile or your laugh.' Then I took out the ring that I designed after your mother's locket."

You cup your hands around his face. "And it was the most beautiful ring." You both stay in your positions, enjoying the quiet that surrounds you.

"I need to ask you something..." you began as your eyes stung with tears. "If things go south, I need you to promise me that you do whatever it takes to save the baby. Alright?" you sniffed.

It was a hard pill to swallow as you two knew that you were probably not going to make it. But if one of you were to say it out loud, both your worlds would crumble.

He kisses your lips with such affirmation. “How can I say no to my best doll?” he huffed out, trying so hard not to cry again as he forced a small smile.

Your eyes start to flutter, causing Steve to help you in a comfortable position to sleep. He fixes your hair out of your face, then kneels down to kiss your temple. "I love you," he mutters softly before leaving the room.

Steve sees Sam and Nat in the waiting area, waiting for news on your well-being. "She's sleeping right now. Call me when she wakes up." Steve said sternly, walking like a man on a mission.

"Where are you going?" Nat screamed after Steve. He turns around briefly, looking straight at her in the eye.

"Like you said, y/n wants to be surrounded with the ones she cherishes. I'm going to uphold that wish."

Sam chases after Steve who is heading to a small aircraft. “Look man, I know what you’re going to do. I think you’re doing a noble thing but it’s a suicide mission. You don’t even know what’s going to happen to you.” Sam says as Steve turns on the monitor, hearing the engines roar.

“I have to die trying. If y/n doesn’t get this closure, she never will. I need to do this alone, but if I don’t make it… promise you’ll give her the necklace.” Steve says, holding out his hand to Sam. His friend’s face turns serious as he shakes the captain’s hand. “You do that yourself, Cap. You’re going back to your family in one piece.” Steve nods his head, prepping for the flight that can lead him to possible death.

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

“Boss, there’s an unknown aircraft that is heading this way.” FRIDAY alerted Tony as he was finishing dinner with Pepper. Tony gets up in cue as he presses a small button on his chest that surrounds his body with his armor. “Go and wait in the room. I’ll figure out what’s going on. I’ll have FRIDAY have you listen to what’s going to happen” Tony said in alert.

Pepper kissed him briefly and ran her way up the stairs. Stark flies out on the terrace and heads to the small aircraft. “Hey there, I don’t know if you noticed but you’re kinda trespassing on my property. I need to ask you to fly along wherever you came from before I call the local authorities and you know the drill.”

He backs up a bit as the aircraft slowly turns around to open the back ramp, revealing the last person he wants to see. “Tony… hear me out before you-” the man is cut off as Tony blasts him near his right shoulder, grazing into a wound. He falls back by the sudden impact, trying to tend the injury with pressure

Tony’s face is revealed to talk to his old friend. “You have ten seconds to explain what you’re doing here before I blast you in the sky.” Tony demanded as he raised his hand that was lighting up with energy. “It’s y/n!” Steve screamed out. Tony lowers his hand.

Tony’s face softens just from hearing your “Wha-what happened to her? Is she alright?” Steve slowly gets up, grunting lightly from his arm. “The doctor’s think she’s dying, Tony. They said she won’t be able to survive the birth. The only person she wants to have her dying moments in that delivery room is you.”

Tony is speechless, he suddenly looks back to see Pepper staring at them from the terrace. He could visibly see her crying and mouthing out “Go to her.” Without warning, Tony goes into the aircraft, now standing next to Steve as the door closed.

Steve is about to say something before getting interrupted by a phone call. Steve excuses himself to answer it. “Hey, I’m on my way. Tell -” his voice drowns out as he hears screaming on the phone. Steve tries to reply but the end goes silent.

“Steve, what’s going on?” Tony asks in a concerned tone. Steve turns to Tony as his face turned ghostly white.

“That was Natasha… y/n is going into labor.”

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

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @bluemoon-icecream @castellandiangelo @coldmuffinpartycloud @denise-was-here @emmy626 @fandom-life-12 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @friyak1 @httphiddlestan @ihearthockeyy @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jessyballet @jordynhouston @kalopsia-flaneur @lharrietg @lharrietg @lou-lou26 @lou-lou26ydia223 @lydia214 @marantha @marquisofmelis @rhapsodic-memories @scxrlettlove @smyfmj @supraveng @thatblondebrownie @turtlepad @youdidnotseethisluv

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

[holden-caulfield]

hii I wanted to request a draco x female reader where reader’s sitting in a tree and reading a book, and draco comes behind her and scares her but she falls down from the tree and breaks her leg? and then he gets concerned and worried and all that? thank you!❤️

we love a concerned and protective draco😌

Sense Of Guilt

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: draco makes the reader fall from a tree and can't help but feel guilty.

WARNINGS: injuries but no blood or anything too graphic.

WORD COUNT: 1042

You were waiting for him after classes. You had a free period and decided the best way to spend it would have been reading.

So you picked your favourite book and went to your favourite reading place. It was an old oak tree, nothing special really; what made it really unique was a little sitting space on top of it, in between the branches, which made it a perfect private spot for someone who wanted to have some time alone.

You also met your boyfriend there, Draco Malfoy. He found you in your little safe haven, approached you and the rest is history, as they say.

You sat there, secluded by the green leaves, and began reading. It was peaceful, all the voices of the scattered students enjoying the spring sun disappeared as you lost yourself between words and commas, plunging deeper and deeper into an ocean of ink and smell of old parchment.

But the quiet peace was abruptly broken. The calmness you had reached had made you totally forget about the outside world but a voice and a sudden light push brought you back instantly.

Too quickly for you didn't have time to think or to act and fell on the ground beneath you.

The fall wasn't too high, but misfortune hit you, just like the ground did, and you fell on your foot, on your ankle to be exact.

It made a cracking noise; not a good omen. You tried getting up and you fell as soon as you tried putting your weight on that same foot; another bad omen.

It was broken.

"Merlin, y/n, are you ok?!" asked Draco, running from behind the tree, where he was hidden, to your side, worry lacing his voice and making it sound slightly higher.

He crouched down where you were sat, in your hand was the book you had been reading so peacefully just moments ago. He placed a hand on your ankle and you let out a small shriek, trying to contain yourself.

He immediately removed his hand, focusing his gaze on your own eyes. You could see the concern mixing with guilt in his grey irises, creating what seemed like a devastatingly gloomy storm in his eyes.

You softened your expression, desperately trying not to think about the excruciating pain that pervaded your foot at the moment, and took Draco's hand in your own.

"I'm fine, just a scratch." you stated, trying to convince yourself more than him because judging from his own face, he knew damn well that that was everything but 'just a scratch'.

He was still frozen on the spot, mentally cursing himself for having let that happen, having let you get hurt, having hurt you.

"Really, it's nothing, see?" you moved to stand up but he prevented you from doing just that, placing a strong hand on you shoulder.

He seemed to realize his actions and immediately released his grip, leaving your arm, almost scared.

"Y/n, i'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I don't even know why i did that, it was irresponsible and-" you stopped him from going any further with your fingers grazing his porcelain skin.

"I'm okay, Draco, really." you weren't lying this time, the pain took the second place as concern for your boyfriend took over you.

He seemed to be calming down when a single, pearly tear crossed your cheek. You couldn't stop it, it was involuntary, and you quickly dried it with the back of your hand but Draco noticed. And his heart got even heavier.

"Can i, y/n?" his hand hovered over your waist and you simply nodded."

"What are you- oh!" he snaked his arms as gently as he could around your back and legs, hoisting you up and carrying you towards the castle. "What are you doing?!"

"Taking you to Madame Pomfrey, that's the least i can do." you giggled but he was serious, you had never seen him like that; he looked as if he had just had a very close encounter with a dementor. And he hadn't won.

"There's no need for that, Draco!" but he ignored you, you could almost see the thousands of thoughts that navigated his mind, probably blaming himself for everything. "Let me down, come on! I'm sure i can walk!"

"No, you can't. And that's my fault, but i'm fixing it. It won't happen again." his eyes were set on the road ahead and you could feel your heart break at his sorrowful expression.

"Listen to me, Draco." you grasped his chin, forcing him to look at you, something he had been keen on avoiding since he had picked you up. "It is not your fault."

"Yes it is, i pushed you." you couldn't argue with that, but that was not the point.

"But you shouldn't hold yourself accountable for that, accidents happen."

"Not to you, they shouldn't." you smiled at his innocence; you couldn't believe a boy like him could say things like these but here he was.

"They happen to everyone."

"I'm the one that caused it, i hurt you, y/n." you could see his eyes glistening under your gaze and yours were close to doing the same, but you refrained yourself, not wanting to alarm him even further.

"You did not hurt me, i fell and i hurt myself, it happens, ok?" you continued, stroking his cheek with your thumb now.

"I hurt you, y/n. I hurt you."

"Fine, you hurt me. Guess what? I still love you and you'll have to take care of me until my leg heals, that means staying with me in the hospital wing for however long Madame Pomfrey says. That seems like a punishment alright, doesn't it?" you said smiling brightly.

He chuckled curtly with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, all okay?" he nodded faintly and you leaned in, taking his lips in yours, conveying all the reassurances he needed into one kiss. "Remember when i almost broke your nose while opening the door? You said it wasn't my fault!"

"Because it wasn't." he whispered, still searching your lips.

"Well, it's the same now."

"It isn't-"

"It is. Now shut up and bring me to the hospital wing, my love."

//

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[keepingupwithpotters]

23-“Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” For jily???

Hope you don't mind I used this prompt to write a second part to this one. There was a concerning amount of distress over it and I am nothing if not a compulsive people pleaser

Happy mf birthday to my bestie, my other brain cell @clare-with-no-i words cannot express how much I adore you. Hope you'll enjoy the custody of our shared brain cell for your birthday as a gift <333

He tried not to feel guilty about the loud noises his feet were making as he ran through empty hallways, an act that went against his every instinct as a Marauder. He just needed to remind himself that he was not hiding from an authority who’s about to catch him this time, rather running towards it actually.

In his haste he forgot to bring his cloak too, though what good it would do to him in this scenario was dubious. Maybe it could’ve helped with a sneak attack, but it wasn’t like they were expecting him now anyway. Occasional ghosts and portraits seeing a pair of feet run around in Hogwarts would be amusing perhaps, if he was in the mood for it.

He clutched the map in his hand tighter. He couldn’t dare to take another look at it in fear of losing time. When he first announced he was up to no good today, it was certainly not because it was a Thursday. Sirius had actually seen to that, making sure that the map was always in the hands of another Marauder every Thursday patrol, without asking for James’ input of course. Today was a fluke, his first one to be exact.

It wasn’t like he had been looking for a little dot named Lily Evans for his own selfish purposes, he was literally supposed to be up to no good before he got severely sidetracked. He winced remembering how he left the dorm quickly without giving an explanation to Peter, trying not to think about the telling off he would receive from Sirius when he got back from his detention.

Well, he could get something for Peter from the kitchens on his way back. As an apology, and a thank you.

Right now wasn’t the time for planning his return though, he first had to hurry up and reach them. When he finally turned the last corner, he had no expectations as to what he would see, only prepared to fire the first spell possible, taking his wand in his right hand.

As he took in the scene in front of him slowly, he realized that was not true, he had been expecting a fight. Certainly not… this.

His eyes passed over Cresswell quickly, cowering in a corner by himself and seemingly not moving a muscle as he stared ahead blankly. Anxiously searching for that flash of red, he finally found it when he turned his head a little to the right. Just not in the way he expected.

With the natural shock of seeing blood, he only lost a second before he ran to its direction. He felt his way around in the dark before remembering he was a wizard, doing a quick lumos to locate where the blood was coming from. The young face in front of him didn’t react to the light at all, laying dead still (not dead, not dead) in front of him. He saw his Hufflepuff tie, yellows darkening with blood, before he saw his wound. All the bleeding seemed to come from his head, his skin paling every second James left to go to waste. But healing spells weren’t his forte, they were Lily’s. He finally let his eyes find her, a coil releasing inside him with the permission.

The first thing he noticed were her hands; one of them fisted, the other one raised, still holding her wand, both shaking. He stood up to go by her side slowly, afraid to spook her out. When he was finally beside her, he saw her empty eyes were fixed on the bleeding boy. No, not empty – terrified, shaken, and devastated but not empty.

He stepped to come between her and the boy, desperate to cut across her line of vision to save her from some of that terror. “Hey, look at me. “He broadened his shoulders to block as much of that scene as possible. “Focus on me alright?”

His words appeared to have no effect on her from the way she was looking. He put his hands on her shoulders but couldn’t decide if shaking her to “snap out of it” would actually be beneficial before he realized where she was focusing on. Green gaze cut a straight line to his heart, he tried to slow it down for her sake.

Her frail hands found their way to his chest unsteadily, clasping firmly right above the beating. He let her clench the shirt between her fists, trying to encourage her to copy his breathing. When her eyes met his at last, it was his turn to lose his breath this time.

“James? What–what are you doing here?”

Her breathing still felt too shaky for him to relax, so he bent his knees to stare her directly in the eye instead. “Lily, I need you to breathe in and out at the same time as I do. You think you can manage that?”

Eyes widened slightly with a manic look, she nodded her head unsurely. Her inhales steadied comparably after a few tries, hands loosening slightly from their tight fists. Scared she would take them away, he put his own on top of hers, allowing her to ground herself as long as she liked.

“They have left.” Her voice trembled slightly. She didn’t continue until James squeezed her fists, once. “Just before you came. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I guess they thought you were a teacher.”

“Who has left?” he asked gently.

“The Slytherins. They were—” She finally seemed to remember what stood behind James. “Is he okay? I couldn’t break his fall in time. There were three of them and—”

“Did you try to take on three Slytherins on your own?” He tried not to grit his teeth, but it was hard, voice coming out clipped anyway.

“It’s not like I had any other choice. Cresswell was…” She trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence. James knew exactly how he could finish it, but that might be his bitterness talking.

He couldn’t focus on how if he were the one with her tonight, he could’ve helped her. Lily needed his supportiveness now, not his ugly jealousy rearing its head.

“I think he has a severe head wound, but I didn’t know how to stop the bleeding. And he isn’t moving at all.”

Lily dropped her hands in a flash, running around him to go to the Hufflepuff’s side. Before he could mourn the loss of her, she had her hand under the boy’s nose, “Well, he’s still breathing.”

“Can you do anything about his injury?” He was crouching beside her now, watching her do some spells to check over the still body.

She looked pensive for a moment. “I could but if he lost consciousness there is a chance it might be something more serious.” The look she gave to James as she got up was urgent. “We should take him to Madam Pomfrey immediately.”

“I can help you with that.”

They both turned to the voice coming behind them, surprised that Cresswell was up and about. He was looking back at them sheepishly, neck flushing under their gazes.

“I think you’ve done enough help so far,” James sneered. He knew this was not the prefect’s fault per say, but the anger simmering behind his skin had not passed after hearing what Lily had to do alone, prompting one cutting remark from his lips.

He had been good so far, he deserved it.

“Why don’t you go back to your room, Dirk?” She sounded tired, and he immediately regretted his little moment of pettiness. “James and I will handle the rest of it from here.”

She turned her back to him without waiting to hear his retorts, starting to levitate the injured boy carefully. While James cleaned the blood on the floor, she waited. He tried to suppress the giddy feeling rising inside him at the act.

They started walking towards the hospital wing side by side, Lily surprising him by taking his hand. If it weren’t for the occasional blood dripping from the boy in the air, it could be considered romantic, like a midnight stroll in the castle.

They continued without speaking, until Lily finally broke the peaceful silence. “I think it was a bad idea.”

He desperately willed his heart to calm down. “What was, Lily?”

“Us not patrolling together and… other things. I may have made a mistake.”

His grasp on Lily’s hand tightened with the words. “Well, we still have time to fix it, don’t we?”

[lovelybarnes]

god- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader, mentions of other avengers x reader

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, veryyy little angst

about: requested! loki gets captured by avengers and healer!reader watches him

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! i am so sorry it took me this long to finish it, and it came out so much longer than i planned, but i didn’t want loki to be ooc, i hope this was good!!

part two

the words you’ve been reading over and over again are beginning to blur. you can’t find it in yourself to care too much, instead choosing to shut the book and stare at the door. your fingers are tapping on the hard plastic protecting the thin cot underneath you, and you try to concentrate on the noise rather than the worry you can’t seem to shake.

they were supposed to be back by now, you think, teeth finding your bottom lip. you weren’t allowed on this mission. while they said the reason you were staying was because they didn’t need everyone, the blatant absence of every single avenger and extended hero said the opposite. you knew the reality was that the threat you weren’t even informed about was greater than usual, and while you had powers, they weren’t as helpful as others when it came to fighting.

so you were stuck waiting for the teammates you hadn’t heard from for nearly ten hours, only able to stand by until they inevitably came back with cuts and bruises for you to fix. halting the thought of if before you could think more of it, you stood, beginning to set up all the medical equipment you usually use for when they arrive. you’re distracting yourself with pointlessly organizing popsicle sticks that you won’t need when you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hallway. you immediately look out your open door, expecting to see the avengers, bringing the smell of blood and exhaustion, not… loki.

you can’t seem to stop how your lips part and your eyes follow him as he nears, suddenly catching his eyes through the movement of the agents surrounding him. your face heats when his lips quirk up in a small smile, sending you a flirty wink before he’s passed and you are left staring at the trace of him. you’re in a trance, and as much as you’d like to blame it on the god’s magic, you know it’s simply how attracted you are to him, even when you know you shouldn’t be.

you’ve never had a conversation with the god, barely been in the same vicinity as him, and your mind seems to be flooded with him. the avengers rarely talk about him, and on the occasion they do, it’s never remotely kind. you understand why- you saw the damage he’d caused in new york, but the more you read on him, the more you can somewhat understand why he did it, as inappropriate as it is. you’d asked thor to bring you books from asgard that loki has read and asked him to tell you about loki.

you can’t help it- the god is intriguing; it’s so magnificent how powerful he is that it nears terrifying, and he’s so stunning you’re concerned you’d make a fool of yourself in front of him, or cut your fingers on his cheekbones (although how the hell would your fingers get there? you prefer to not think too much into your impossible fantasies).

you’re not even completely certain that what just happened actually happened- because there is no way loki laufeyson looked at a puny mortal like you and didn’t gag.

a hand dropping on your shoulder is what snaps you out of it, turning around to see sam and bucky, “you good?” sam asks, and you nod, scanning the men for the injuries they came to you for. sam has a large gash along his thigh that you can see through a slash on his uniform, and forming bruises along the rest of his body, tiny cuts scattered on his face. bucky is considerably better, his speed healing is helping. there is dried blood that you’ll clean later on his face, small and slightly more serious cuts all over him but already healing, and a clearly dislocated shoulder that he set.

“alright, sam, you know the drill. bucky, please don’t grab any medical supplies and stitch anything like last time and just let me do my thing,” you request, lowering the stretcher so sam doesn’t stress any of his injuries when he sits. “lay down so i can get to work on that cut on your leg, sam.”

you help him on the bed and let him settle down by himself while you soak gauze in antiseptic for bucky. sam’s shirt is off when you turn back, holding back a wince at the darkening bruise splayed on his abdomen. you cut away his pants, wiping away all the blood surrounding the wound and cleaning it with water. “clean,” you mutter, lightly dragging your fingers along the wound, a warm pink sparkling where your touch had been, disappearing with the slice in his skin.

sam sighs when it’s all healed, looking down at his leg, “i am never getting used to that,” you hum a laugh when you move to some of the smaller cuts on his face, all of them healing with a simple move of your fingers. the yellowing that was beginning to form along his abdomen fades back into his normal skin color when your hands drift past them, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“well no broken bones this time,” you point out, patting his leg proudly. he grins, sitting up, “you proud of me?”

“very,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his cheek that relaxes all of his sore muscles, “you’re a gift to this world,” he thanks. you smile in response, sitting bucky down where sam was. sam picks up the clothing you always leave out, moving into your small bathroom to change while you work on bucky.

“how did it go?” you ask him, cleaning away the blood on his face. “not yours,” you comment on it, “i guess that’s good.”

“it went… as well as fighting a god can go,” he answers, you nod, “you fought a god?” you ask nonchalantly, as if you didn’t just have a strange encounter with said god. bucky nods, “loki. you saw him, y/n.”

your hands move in front of his face, warmth settling into the open wounds and closing them. “i was just making sure you’d tell me the truth. no one told me anything about this mission.” you pat at his arms, random injuries healing with a gentle pink. “no serious ones, right?” you ask, squinting at him as he shakes his head. “all of them healed down into small ones that you just healed.”

“okay, then,” you kiss his forehead, making his tense muscles loosen like sam’s. “do you know how much we appreciate it when you do that?” he asks, and you laugh. “making sure none of you are sore is a small thing, and i like doing it.” besides, thanks to that, you got natasha to warm up to your affection- she is now comfortable receiving hugs, and you consider that a win.

“so where’s loki going now?” you question, not noticing the three avengers behind you until tony answers, steve and natasha behind him. “one of the high security cells, you’re going to take turns babysitting him so he doesn’t try to kill everyone again.”

“i am?” you ask, motioning for the three to sit while sam and bucky leave. “not you, i don’t want anything to happen to you, but everyone else,” tony says, sitting in front of you. you roll your eyes in reply, “i’m not defenseless, tony. i’m an avenger for a reason. and it isn’t only because i can heal people.”

“why would you want to watch over him? rock of ages isn’t very interesting,” tony asks, you hold back the fact you think the opposite, continuing to pat at his cheek with a wet cotton swab. “it’s just sitting around and watching a man with an overgrown ego rant about evil plans,” natasha adds, making you shrug, “more than i usually do. most of the time, i have to sit around doing nothing until you guys come back, since steve won’t put me on missions,” you try to ignore how you’re defending someone who most of the people in this room consider a villain.

“we need to have you safe and intact in case anything happens,” steve defends. you sigh, having heard the same excuse multiple times before. “i know. doesn’t make feeling useless for most of the day any better.”

the topic is switched for the rest of the time they’re with you.

three days later, you haven’t even heard the god’s name. you can tell your conversation with tony ticked him off, and you’re worried he might have an idea of what runs through your mind when you think of loki, which explains the absence of anything loki-related. you’re disappointed, to say the least. the god you’ve been thinking about is in the same building as you, only a few floors below, locked inside a cell you know the code and have complete access to, and you can’t even think about him without the concern that tony might somehow find out. he’s been truthful about the babysitting; so far, each of the avengers have sat in with him, steve twice- you’re sure the second time was supposed to be you, but tony is infuriating and true to his word.

every avenger but you and natasha are gone today, though, and from the looks of the folder nick fury’s holding, walking down to loki’s cell where natasha is, it’ll be down to just you.

a few minutes later, you’re reading “the night manager,” when fury knocks on your door, making you look up. “you busy, l/n?” he asks, you shake your head, “have a mission for me?”

“yes. supervising loki laufeyson for the rest of the day, and preferably the night, too,” he instructs, an eyebrow raising when you haven’t moved from your seat, so you stand immediately, shutting your book with your finger bookmarking your page. “oh- yes, of course, sir. uh, i’ll get down there now, then,” you stammer, awkwardly squeezing past him in the doorway and heading to the elevator, “have a nice day, sir,” you wave, nearly bumping into a plant.

you always embarrass yourself in front of the man, which probably explains your limited interactions.

you try not to think about it during the elevator ride, foot tapping on the floor as the numbers lower until it dings. natasha is standing on the other side when the doors part, eyes meeting yours the moment they do. you smile at her, squeezing her arm when she passes to replace the kiss you’d usually place on her forehead to soothe the tense muscles you’re certain she has. she tells you to be careful in a whisper, unwilling to show anything to the god who is curiously examining you. the elevator hums as it closes, and you sit in the chair before the glass prison. “hello,” you greet with a small smile, slightly bowing your head before opening your book and flipping to the page you left off on.

it’s utterly useless, though. the words on the page are impossible to understand when you can feel his eyes on you, examining you in such a way, you’re sure he already knows more about you than you do about yourself. “it’s the night manager,” you say softly after a few excruciating seconds, setting the book down on your lap as you meet his eyes. “it’s a good book so far.”

your tone is light, and you think it’s part of the reason loki answers, “i have read it before. it’s… not completely terrible.”

“no way, i just got the god seal of approval on one of my books,” you say playfully, smiling at him before going back to reading.

“i have not seen you here before,” loki points out after a silent minute, and you nod in response, “that’s right, i haven’t gone down here since you came.”

there’s a dangerous smirk playing at loki’s lips, walking closer to you, “is it because you’re scared of me?” he asks, and you scoff softly. “you don’t scare me. you are… interesting. dangerous, of course, and i don’t agree with your actions, but i don’t think you lash out for no good reason.”

there’s a heavy quiet that follows your words, your gentle stare combatting loki’s suspicious one. you nearly pick up your book to resume until he speaks again. “you haven’t expressed your hate for me yet,” he observes, and you frown, “is that what they do? that’s not very nice.”

“neither am i, darling.” loki replies smoothly, making you shake your head, cheeks warming against your will at the pet name. “well, i don’t hate you. so i don’t see a reason to do that,” you point out.

loki actually looks… surprised for a split second, before his gaze sets on you, ���and why is that?” he questions. you pause; you don’t actually know why. surely, you should- he attempted to take over your planet and hurt your friends, but you can’t bring yourself to hold any ill feeling towards him, not after hearing his brother talk so fondly of him even after all he’s put him through.

“i don’t know. i probably should, but i just don’t,” you respond in finality, trying to leave no room for the argument loki will surely bring. he quirks an eyebrow, watching as you stifle a yawn.

he surprisingly doesn’t elaborate, but you’re sure it was already on his tongue. your mind goes back to one of the previous things he’d said, and your frown returns, examining the god. you only realize it completely looks like you’re checking him out when he smirks, cocking his head, “would you like me to do a turn?” he asks, making you flush. “no, i- i was just-”

you let out a small puff of air, attempting to convert your thoughts into one coherent sentence, “are they feeding you correctly? i know shield is supposed to be humane or whatever, but some of the agents pick and choose, and-”

“do you always ramble like this?” loki cuts you off, and you shake your head, bashful, “not usually. but i’m not usually in the presence of a god.” loki smirks at that, “they haven’t. but as you pointed out, i am a god. thus i need very little food.”

the voice in your head that sounds strangely like tony is yelling at you to not care, because the person in front of you is evil- supposedly- and it would be highly inappropriate of you to care, but, like you usually do with tony, you ignore it, reaching into your pocket to get your phone. you type out that you’re hungry to maria, doubling your usual order of food with no questions from her but full of suspicion, you’re sure.

“what are you doing?” loki asks. “getting food. i’m not exactly sure what gods are supposed to eat, and it’s not like i can order a whole ham or whatever, but i don’t find myself loving the idea of starving prisoners.”

“why?” he asks, eyes slanted and head tilted like he tends to do. contemplating his question, you shrug, “because i can’t see why i shouldn’t.”

loki decides you’re bearable.

[aerial-jace]

This started as me trying to think of something to write for a KestrelJay fic, but thanks to @mallowstep enabling me it became a full-on Po3 + OotS AU. I present to you: Po3 + OotS but the powers don’t come with a prophecy attached AU. Alternatively: Po3 + OotS but Jayfeather willingly became a medicine cat out of delusions of grandeur.

The only reason I’m deleting the dark forest part of the conflict is so I can use the powers but still have this AU be about an entirely new interpersonal conflict that doesn’t cross over with that whole thing

Jaykit figures out very early on about his dream powers, using it to hop across the dreams of his littermates and others in the nursery. Growing up he hears lots of stories about dreams and prophecies and medicine cats and the rest, so naturally he gets really excited about this special power and gets it into his head that he’s destined to be the next medicine cat.

(He can’t see in dreams on this one. He knows he’s actually dream hopping and not just dreaming of the others in the nursery because he’s very insistent about asking others what they dreamed about. The other kits are impressed but no adult gives him the time of day with it.)

Hollykit, ambitious little furball that she is, also gets it into her head that she’s going to be the next medicine cat. When playing in the nursery, the arguments about it are endless.

Lionkit’s concerned because if both his siblings become medicine cat apprentices, does that mean he’s gonna have to put up with that meanie Berrypaw all on his own? 3:

As they approach apprenticing age, Leafpool notices the two siblings are very much serious about wanting to be her apprentice. It’s at this time that Jaykit starts to brag about his dream hopping ability as if that’s going to guarantee him the position. Hollykit, meanwhile, is trying to help however she can.

Leafpool very much thinks Hollykit would make a better apprentice, she sounds much more helpful to have around and she thinks someone should really check Jaykit’s growing ego.

The day of their apprentice ceremony comes and Jaypaw is fucking pissed, like in canon Lionpaw goes to Ashfur, Hollypaw to Leafpool, and him to Brightheart.

Brightheart and Longtail are really trying to be helpful and encouraging here. Longtail even sort of came out of retirement just so he could assist them outside camp. But Jaypaw’s just being a brat and it makes all three miserable. He won’t listen to instructions, he rushes everything just so he can go pester Leafpool, when out on patrol he will try to sneak away, he is very rude to them, etc.

Lionpaw tries to be a supportive brother, trying to give Jaypaw encouragement and tips, reassuring him that he can grow up to be a great warrior, convincing Ashfur to let them train together, and so much more but he’s just met with the same scorn and aggression that Jaypaw has for Brightheart and Longtail. Doesn’t help matters that Lionpaw is just good at this, reinforcing Jaypaw’s belief that this is not his special destiny.

Hollypaw is trying her best, but like in canon she just struggles a lot with memorizing and identifying herbs and of course being grossed out by actually treating injuries. She also tries to extend an olive branch to Jaypaw, only to be met with scorn and particularly harsh insults. He also tries to butt in whenever he has the chance. Leafpool’s getting really fed up with all this.

This whole thing lasts for like a moon to a moon and a half and the whole of ThunderClan camp just doesn’t have the energy to deal with Jaypaw anymore. The general stress and just in general being so worn out give Jaypaw the perfect in to enter Leafpool’s usually more tightly guarded mind. She originally thinks the little brat has just been so annoying she ended up dreaming of him but when he turns up the next day and recites her whole dream to her, she sighs in defeat.

She’s perfectly aware that she shouldn’t reward him for wearing her down, but this has gone on long enough. She’s seen Hollypaw and she knows it would be better for her to swap mentors now. And if StarClan has given Jaypaw this power, she’s not about to go trying to prevent his destiny. She knows better than to piss them off.

Jaypaw is an immature, smug little shit about this whole thing, and Leafpool knows she has her work cut out for her in regards to nipping that in the bud. At the very least he’s obedient now and very eager to make up for lost time.

Their first night on the apprentice’s den, Hollypaw and Lionpaw begin to bond over complaining about their dickhead brother. It’s extremely cathartic and even though they’re keeping everyone else up they don’t mind either. They needed that release as well.

Hollypaw quickly learns that Lionpaw is very good at this warrior thing, way better than she’d expect with how behind she is. They figure out Lionpaw’s got a power as well, and while Hollypaw’s initially concerned he will turn out a dickhead as well, the experience of Jaypaw keeps Lionpaw humble. At least when not around Berrypaw.

It’s Jaypaw’s first half moon gathering and he can’t help but bounce with excitement. He’s excited to meet everyone and share tongues with StarClan and to be announced officially as Leafpool’s apprentice and all the rest. As they meet the others he finds that the other two apprentices are not being as friendly as he’d expected. Willowpaw is downright angry at him for costing her a friend, while Kestrelpaw is polite but distant. They’ve both been warned of him and seeing them both act so coldly really hurts Jaypaw.

(While all of this is happening, LionBerry is going through a rivals to lovers arc in the background. And of course we all know Hollypaw is massively gay for Willowpaw.)

Jaypaw is really lost on what to do. He wants to make friends with the other medicine cat apprentices, but he’s just not got the social skills for this. He thinks invading their privacy in dreams is a good idea, kind of forgetting everyone and their mother know of his power and that most people find that creepy.

It takes a while, but seeing his desperation to make friends, Kestrelpaw starts to open up and Jaypaw is massively emotional about it. They bond as friends and over time they get Willowpaw to also open up. The three become really close friends and they encourage Jaypaw to fix his relationship with his siblings.

When Hollyleaf and Lionblaze get their full names, Jaypaw starts to reach out to them. They’ve seen Jaypaw becoming more humble and minding his own business over time, so they’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But it still takes time for their relationship to be repaired.

Willowshine and Kestrelflight earn their full names and Jaypaw couldn’t be more proud of his friends. Him and Kestrelflight begin to date (using those handy-dandy dream powers they don’t even have to meet physically!) and he starts to relay messages between Willowshine and Hollyleaf.

It’s around this time that Flamepaw, the token straight of the medicine cat gang, shows up. He’s basically the reverse of that whole “Everyone has a gay cousin and if you don’t it’s you” thing, which becomes really apparent with how his gay cousins dominate the conversation at all the half moon gatherings.

(For the sake of the joke, his siblings are bi. He only learns this after telling them about how gay the half moon meetings are.)

When Jaypaw earns his full name, Leafpool names him Jaystorm because of how much of a handful he was as an apprentice and as a reminder to not fall back on those old behavior patterns.

Jaystorm announcing his full name to his siblings and showing healthy pride in his accomplishment is basically the end of his arc regarding repairing his relationships. They’re now all equals in the eyes of the clan and they get along pretty well. They’re his preferred escorts whenever he has to go out of camp and they’re glad to spend more time with him.

Fast forward to the time of OotS, Jaystorm notices fairly early on the signs that Dovekit also seems to have special powers and begins making plans to ensure she and Ivykit aren’t driven apart by ego and jealousy like he and his littermates were

Dovekit, thankfully, starts showing interest in becoming a medicine cat while Ivykit doesn’t. Come their apprentice ceremony, Jaystorm maneuvers to have himself be named the official mentor of Dovepaw and Hollyleaf the mentor of Ivypaw.

(Leafpool’s still around or something. I deliberately also omitted the fire scene and the parentage reveal drama. But she’s just not a character I’m interested in and sidelining her is for the good of the story.)

Having someone with partial medicine cat training mentoring Ivypaw means Jaystorm can very easily make an excuse to have her as part of his escort when herb gathering. Ivypaw, of course, complains endlessly about it, but she finds it nice to have time to spend with Dovepaw.

Under the guidance of the three, Dovewing and Ivypool grow up to be well adjusted adults who deal with the whole powers thing very maturely. All five of them are very close to each other, to the point the three almost consider those two as honorary little sisters.

(It’s fine, Cinderheart ends up having Fernsong with a completely unrelated tom. Lionblaze is too focused on his husband Berrynose to have eyes for anyone else. It fixes the incest, even.)