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bangchansgirlsblog · 9 months

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can you please please please please pleeeeease write smth super angsty with comfort with changbin 🫂

Cramping up.

Warning: Angst, blood, periods.

Summary: your cramps this time around are heavy and changbin’s “busy” schedule leads to something tragic.

Pairing: reader x Changbin

Two people requested for a Changbin angst. So here it is 🥰

Periods.

Y/n hated her period with everything in her but yet she was so relieved whenever it came around.

Her cramps were always a 9/10 and her body ached horrendously. She hated that time of month. Changbin also hated that time of the month because he hated seeing his girl in so much pain.

He always made sure to note when it would be arriving down. He also made sure to run to the grocery store to get her favorite snacks, run her a bath, rent out her favorite movies and buy her a pack of her medication but for some reason (it was quite obvious the reason) he had forgotten to do it this month.

You see, come back season was officially over and the boys were on a month long break. Yes! A month long break. Changbin (since he was a part of 3 racha) was the most excited for it because it meant that he could sleep in, play videos games and not have to worry about deadlines, music, etc.

He was in such an off mode that he ignored the whole world around him and at first Y/n accepted it because he did deserve this break but it was getting annoying because she too wanted to spend time with her boyfriend.

It was 5 in the evening. He was back on the game again. "Binnie?" She whimpered while her hands wrapped around her lower abdomen. Her body was heating up and her stomach was quite literally vibrating because of how much pain she was in.

"Changbin can you please pass me some painkillers from the cabinet?" She asked again due to the fact that Changbin didn't hear her the first time.

"Hm? What did you say babe?" He removed his headphones and slightly turned to look over at her, barely.

"Can you get me painkiller? They're in the bathroom."

"Okay give me a sec," he turned back to the his PC and unpaused the game. This not only angered and frustrated Y/n but it made her sad.

She was haunched over with tears in her eyes. The room was dark and the only source of light was coming from Chnagbins large PC and the bathroom.

The AC was running but she still could feel the heat radiating from her body.

She let out a little whine when she felt the cramps intensify. Changbins constant taps on the keyboard weren't helping her at all.

"Binnie please can you just-"

"Y/n chill for a sec and stop nagging me will you? You always tell me how I should relax and spend some me time but you constantly keep bugging me to do things for you, so please," he glared at you. The game being forgotten about. It took her a while to process what he said but her body had reacted way before her brain could catch up causing her to gasp and scoot away from him.

"I'm sorry, I'll let you be," she whispered and choked on her tears. Her heart rate was beating at a fast rate. The tears began to slowly fall down her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes and put back his headphones before mumbling a few words and continuing to play. He had no idea how much pain Y/n was in. It was obvious.

She watched him play as the tears were running down her face. Her heart was broken or maybe it was just the hormones talking? It didn’t matter to her because yeah even if she did tell Binnie to have time to rest and relax, he hadn’t even had time for her and now he was becoming very frustrated with her.

After what felt like forever, she gathered the little energy she had left and made her way to the bathroom. Her body shook vigorously at how much pain she was experiencing. Was this normal? She started to question.

She grabbed the pain killers from the cabinet and reached out to grab the cup for water. Everything was spinning now and she felt faint. The world was spinning at a fast space and as she filled the glass with water her body collapsed leaving shattered glass by her body.

Changbin started to feel guilty for snapping at her. He felt even more guilty when she went to get the painkillers she had asked him so nicely for and he decided he would apologize when she was back and maybe take her out for a movie.

The sound of the breaking glass gave Changbin a scare. At first he thought it was Y/n doing something and accidentally broke a glass but as he there was no more movement or human activity going on he got worried and quickly got up and followed the sound.

"Y/n? You okay?" He asked knocking but there was no answer. "Y/n?" He called once again while pushing the bathroom door open.

He gasped at the sight. She was laying on the ground with blood gushing out her head. What had happened? Was he this blind to notice she was this badly off? This is all his fault.

"Y/n?! Oh my God," he gasped and run to her side. "Baby?! Can you hear me?" He tried to softly wake her up but all he got in response was a groan and whimper.

His heart was beating at a high rate. His hands shaking and his body breaking a sweat. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and quickly dialed and called their company medics.

He was then instructed to carry her to bed and put pressure on the wound that was gushing out blood so he did so and followed every little instruction He then had to wipe her face with cold water which instantly woke her up.

"Ow..."she groaned rubbing the side of her head. "Binnie?" She sobbed when she realized what was going on.

He could finally breathe. It was like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He still didn’t stop wiping her face with the cold water. He wanted to make sure she would stay awake.

"Baby, what happened?" He instantly asked.

"I- I don't know," she sobbed again, "I was trying to get water cause my cramps hurt really bad. You didn’t want to get it for me and I just- everything went black," her voice was soft, Changbin could barely hear. Her tears upset him so much.

"Cramps?" He asked confused, "oh my God! I totally forgot, is it that time of the month already?" he smacked his forehead feeling guilty. "I'm so sorry my love, I was so mean to you yet you needed me," his lower lip quivered feeling bad for putting her through this.

She had no response tho, "Binnie, it hurts," she groaned again while holding her stomach and head. Her breakdown was getting worse.

“Babygirl, you need to breathe. Please. Your going to pass out again,”

“I-it hurts so bad Binnie,” she hiccuped. Changbin only knew one way to calm her down. He got into the other side of the bed and cuddled her. He rubbed circles on her back and she continued to tell her to breathe. Trying to comfort her in any way.

It broke his heart watching her in such a state. He felt like the worst boyfriend ever.

"I'll get you some pain meds yeah? We'll wait to the medics are here so we can see what to do after. Okay my love?" He was panicking again and it was so visible.

"I-I'll be okay," she held his hand for reassurance and she could physically see Changbin let out a huge sigh of relief.

When the medics had arrived, they were shocked that Y/n was even awake.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” The man asked her as he carefully cleaned the wound.

“I don’t know really. I was just waking to get water and pain killers. I just remember my cramps being really bad, the pain kept getting worse. Then I just passed out and I think I hit my head,” she explained.

“How bad was the pain?” He proceeded to ask. She winced at a sharp shoot pain that run through her head when he added a cream to the wound.

“It was on like an 9-“

“Her cramps are normally bad not this bad to the poibt she passes out,” Changbin cut her off trying to help.

“Alright, I think you’ll need to see a doctor about that because that could be a sign you body is telling you,” Changbin made sure to note to make an appointment later for the doctors. They examined her head wound one last time to make sure everything was okay and if it needed stitches or not. It didn't, which Changbin was greatful about because he didn't know how he would handle watch them physically stitch up his girlfriend.

"We're just going to give you a strong dose of pain medicine because as I said passing out due to the fact of your period cramps is not normal. So we're going to push in some pain meds which may make you a little woozy," the man explained every step and every way.

“Is she allowed to eat after this?” Changbin asked. His hand was wrapped around hers trying to give her comfort.

“Yes she can, maybe cook her some soup. That normally helps.”

When he injected the pain medication into her IV bag, the extreme pain that lingered around her lower stomach and lower back slowly started to subside causing Y/n to moan in relief at how good it felt.

Her body was extremely exhausted and the feeling of sleep came over her.

The sudden need to be held and the craving of Changbin’s touch grew stronger. She knew she was still upset at him but she wanted him so badly.

"Changbin, come here," she said groggily. The medics had left the house and now Changbin was running around trying to clean up the mess and make her some food.

"What is it love?" He questioned while popping his head around the door frame.

"Can you come cuddle?" She groaned and pouted. He was trying so hard not to smile or giggle. He found her so cute.

“Alright let me finish fixing you a plate okay? I’m running to the store quickly to get your snacks and I’m putting blankets in the dryer so you can have warm blankets, just give me a few.”

He quickly walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead even tho she was frowning. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. If you need anything just call. Okay?”

“Yeah,” she gave in and got comfortable in the bed. Her eyes slowly close as she fell into a deep sleep.

She was awaken by someone wrapping their hands around her waist.

“I’m back my love,” Changbin’s voice was quiet and soft.

“Binnie? I’m so tired,”

“Shall we get you into the shower? just a quick shower so you can eat and then sleep,” she shook her head allowing him to help her to the bathroom where she sat on the toilet as he was trying to get the right water temperature.

“Binnie, I’m so mad at you,” she said, deciding to squash the elephant in the room.

“I know my love,” he turned away from the shower and knelt infront of her. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that, it’ll never happen again. Seeing you in so much pain and seeing you on the floor like that scared the shit out of me baby. It was my fault for not listening to you. Please forgive me,” his eyes were shining under the dim light. He looked to cute for Y/n to not accept his apology. She was an understanding girlfriend after all.

“It’s fine my love, I understand work was a lot and the come back this season was really tough. I just don’t want you to get mad at me like that again. Whenever something happens ,we talk about it. Okay?” She laid her hand on his cheek, cupping it.

“I love you, I promise it won’t happen again. Thank you for being the best girlfriend ever,”

“Your welcome Binnie, now go on strip me naked!” She giggled.

“Im guessing the painkillers worked?”

“Very very well! My head hurts just a little tho,” he got up and kissed her forehead.

“There, I hope the kiss fixes it.” He chuckled while helping her undress, “let’s get you washed up so we can cuddle and watch a movie.”

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dindjarindiaries · 8 months

Text

Breakable Heaven - Chapter 10: Breakable Heaven

summary: The summer comes to an end, forcing you and Din apart—and leaving you to hope the galaxy has a different plan for you.

warnings: mild smut, sexual references, parental trauma, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: M

word count: 4.541k

previous ⟸ masterlist

chapter 10: breakable heaven

There’s not much left to the summer after your ultimatum is set, and both you and Din try your best not to spend what time you have left mourning something you haven’t yet lost. It proves difficult, though, as you feel the weight of it on your shoulders every time you meet his sweet, brown gaze. There’s a light that hasn’t appeared in the golden flecks of his eyes ever since you came back to the covert that day.

When Din’s training, you spend time with your Mandalorian family. You play with the foundlings and teach them everything you know, hoping that at least one of them will play the role you intended to fulfill within this very covert. You also absorb your time with Zena, who took the news of your fate just as poorly as Din—if not worse.

When Din’s not training, every moment is spent right by his side. There’s nothing else you can do than take advantage of every last second you have together. Each day is spent taking walks and imagining the future after your time in the Imperial Academy, and each night is spent memorizing his lips, his body, and the pure feeling of him wrapped up entirely in you.

One day, you won’t have that anymore; you won’t have him. That day is tomorrow.

You’re already thinking about this as Din’s mouth continues his beautiful exploration of your own, as if he and his tongue are trying to memorize you in the same way you have him. You don’t want to be thinking about your doomsday, though. You want to focus on the perfection that’s him with you, one body, heart, and soul for the last time in a long, long time.

Just not forever. Please, not forever.

“Please.” You say the plea aloud, hoping Din will take it for a cry for pleasure rather than a result of the desperate ache in every inch of your bones for him to never leave you. You wouldn’t be opposed to having as much of him now as he can manage.

“Always.” Din’s response is simple, strained from his own ecstasy and certainly his own emotion, but it carries a weight that goes unsaid. His forehead’s against your own, sweat coating his skin and yours—but it’s better than tears, which have been more and more common these nights. “You will have me always.”

You want to reassure him of the same, to remind him for the umpteenth time that you’ll find him as soon as you’re freed of your service, but you can’t manage the words. The mixture of pure pleasure and vast devastation is so dangerous you can’t speak. Only incoherent strings of panting breaths and gentle cries can escape, so you try to reassure him by raking one hand through his hair and the other over the skin on his back. Maybe the marks will go deep enough to leave him with this reminder of you.

Din’s gentle with the way he holds your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his own as he searches your gaze. “Use your words, ner kar’ta.” He swallows hard, and you hope it’s from pleasure, but the desperation in his eyes and the slight glaze of unshed tears tells you otherwise as he offers the same plea as you. “Please.”

“Always, Din.” You say his name as reverently as you can manage, never once straying from his gaze so he can sense your severity and deep meaning. “You…” you hiccup on a breath, hoping it’s a pleased gasp rather than a sorrowful sob, “will always have me, too.” You use your grip on his hair to bring his lips back to your own, wanting to taste them like this one last time as you whisper your next words upon them. “Par an ca’nara.” For all time.

That’s when you both break. No longer is sweat the only thing shared between your faces, as tears fall while the love between you rises. The knot within you breaks loose, one of pleasure and one of devastation, shattering you like splintering ice as you tremble from the physical and emotional ramifications of this last high with him. Din’s the very same, though it happens moments later, evidence of a strength you’ll always admire.

The distance won’t matter. This may have been one summer, but that’s all you needed to know what you want your forever to look like. Having to leave him, and the family that comes with him, hurts more than any physical wound ever could.

Din holds you tight as he lays beside you, letting you seek the refuge of his slick neck as you wrap yourself around him. You can’t bear to be even an inch away from him. You want to cling to this moment, to this very feeling, and never let it go. He has to know that.

“I can’t let you go.” The words are nothing short of pitiful as they fall from your swollen lips, your voice muffled by his warm skin. You pull him tighter at the mere idea of leaving.

Din lets you as close to him as you want to be. “Then don’t.” His words are soft, and much more composed than you expect them to be. His lips press a kiss to your head. “Hold onto me no matter how far apart we are.”

You furrow your brow, ashamed by the way the dark hole of defeat is consuming you. “How?”

Din takes a gentle breath, one hand running over your bare back as the other secures your head in place against him. “The stars brought us together for a reason, cyar’ika.” The wisdom you’ve come to adore so much fills his voice as he whispers to you. “No matter where we are in the galaxy, we’ll be looking upon the same stars.” His chin rests upon your head. “Keep them close, and you’ll have me close, too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and release a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “Promise?”

Din nods. “Promise.”

You refuse to cry, now, instead breathing in the scent of him and letting it relax you enough to seek some kind of rest in his arms. “I love you.”

Din gives your head another kiss. “I love you, too.” He repeats his promise from before. “Always.”

Somehow, you manage to sleep, and for once since you returned to the covert, it’s not fitful. But it’s not the sleep you’ve been worried about. It’s the morning, and that dawn has now broken.

Din helps you get ready and makes sure you’re fully packed before he takes you to say your last goodbyes. You earn an embrace from everyone: Zena, Paz, the foundlings, and all others you’ve grown close to. Cabur offers one last Keldabe kiss and dries your tears for you, and even the Armorer taps her golden helmet against your forehead.

Din’s grip on your hand is tight as he escorts you out of the covert. Each step towards Scespa’s landing zone feels heavier and heavier, and the silence between you and Din is even heavier somehow. There’s nothing either one of you can say to make this any better. This is the last time you’ll see each other until stars know when.

When you arrive at the landing zone, you see the Imperial shuttle waiting there. Only a few others are preparing to board it, with their family and friends wishing them farewell in a way that makes you sick. You look around for your parents and feel your chest burn with an unprecedented rage as you spot them amongst the others.

But at least there’s a bright light even amidst that darkness.

“Drinna,” you breathe the Twi’lek’s name as you tug Din forward with you. Drinna meets you in the middle, holding you close to her as if you’re her own. In a way, you are, and you don’t fight the tears that soak the fabric of her shirt. “Thank you for coming.”

“I had to, darlin’.” Drinna holds you tighter. “I had to.”

When the two of you finally pull away, she cups your cheek and reveals a bittersweet smile. You muster the courage to offer her a smile of your own. “Thank you for everything, Drinna.”

“You don’t have to thank me, honey.” Drinna kisses your forehead. “Just stay strong in there.” She pulls away and holds both your hands. “Okay?”

You nod, offering her another watery smile. “Okay.”

Drinna pats your cheek and turns her attention to Din. She sets her hands on his shoulders and faces him with severity. “Find ‘em.” She gestures with her head to you, her lekku bouncing on her back as she does so. “You understand? As soon as they’re out, find ‘em.”

Din nods with determination you don’t miss. “Yes, ma’am.”

Drinna returns his nod. “Good.” Drinna gives you one last embrace before she pulls herself away, and you know she’s only turning her back on you to walk away because she won’t be able to leave if she doesn’t do so.

Your gaze slides over to your parents, and you scowl as they try to make an approach. In a subtle move that says enough, Din steps in front of you, as if he’s challenging them to come any closer. They stop, understanding the threat—but not without narrowing their eyes. Din escorts you over to the checkpoint and he stays with you, his hand in yours, even as they gather your information and secure you for transport.

This nightmare is finally becoming real, and all you can do is hold whatever part of Din you can until the last possible second.

At least your parents have left, now. They had waited until you were officially checked in to do so, further proving how little they actually care about you and your future. You scoff to yourself at the thought of it.

“All right, cadets,” the Imperial officer who checked you in announces. “It’s time to board. Say your final goodbyes.”

Your heart drops into your stomach as your blurry eyes focus on your feet. Din’s free hand holds your chin, easing your head up to look at him again. He glances over his shoulder at the Imperial and quickly whisks you into the shadow of a nearby vessel, keeping you concealed from sight as he lowers his voice for only you to hear.

“Listen, cyar’ika.” Din holds your face between his hands, his intense brown gaze searching yours. “You play along as you have to, and as soon as you’re able…” he pauses, releasing your face to reach for a pouch hanging from his belt, “you buy your freedom.”

You furrow your brow, confused as Din sets the pouch into your hands. “What do you mean?”

Din glances down at the hefty pouch. “You take these credits and you buy a ship that’ll get you to the Rebellion.”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “Buy a ship? I…” You consider the weight of the pouch in your hands, your eyes doubling in size as the realization falls upon you. “No, Din.” You shake your head. “I can’t accept this.”

Din closes your fist around the pouch with his hands. “It’s yours.” He nods at you, his brow furrowed in severity.

“Din…” You search his gaze, trying to find the words that are lodged in your throat. “This is for your ship, to see your homeworld.” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as you study the pouch in your hand. “I can’t take that from you.”

“You’re not taking anything from me.” Din holds your face again, his forehead resting against yours as he nods. “I’m giving this to you, and all I ask in return is that you do me the honor of protecting you one last time by following these instructions.”

You study him, overcome with emotions of sadness, disbelief, and pure affection. “Why can’t I buy a ship and come right back here?”

Din shakes his head. “We both know why.” He runs his fingers over your lips. “Your parents will know you’re here. Even if we try our best to hide you, they’ll find out. This is a small town.”

You take a deep, trembling breath, hanging the pouch on your belt and holding his face just as he does with your own. “Promise you’ll come find me as soon as you can?”

Din smiles, a warm gesture that temporarily relieves every ache in your body as he nods. “I promise.” He brushes his lips over your own. “But don’t let the covert and I hold you back, ner kar’ta.” Those golden flecks appear in his eyes for the first time since you first gave him the devastating news. “You go chase your dream of helping the rebel effort with your remedies.”

You tilt your head, stuck between two feelings at his sweet words. “It’s not a dream if you’re not there.”

Din shakes his head, but his smile remains. “That’s not true.” He kisses your forehead. “Because you, ner cyare, are so much more than just me.” He nods to reassure you further. “You never had a problem with the prospect of my Creed. I’ll never have a problem with you dedicating yourself to this noble cause.”

You don’t know what to say. There really isn’t anything left to say. With these words, Din is proving to you the true depth of his love for you. He’s not letting you go to a fate your parents resigned to you, nor is he letting you retreat into the safety of the life he’s shown you.

Din is encouraging you to follow the life you have always wanted for yourself.

You kiss him, the gesture desperate yet achingly passionate as you taste him one last time. This is home to you, the warmth of his mouth on your own and each movement you make being equally matched with his own. It’s suspended in time, but it’s also not long enough, and you only pull apart when the Imperial calls out your last name in warning.

“I love you, Din.” The words are like a vow as you say them without tearing your gaze from his. “I love you so much. Always.”

“I love you too, cyar’ika.” He runs his knuckles down the side of your face, adding one last kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll say it again the next time I see you.”

Your lips wobble, but you fight the emotion this time. You hold Din’s hands and squeeze them tight, doing the same to your eyes as you force yourself away from him. Each step you take is a large stride, the only kind you can manage to fight the urge to run back into his arms. If all goes well, you’ll sneak off the shuttle on its next planetary stop for recruits, and you’ll use Din’s credits to buy a ship there.

Now, all that’s left to do is focus on the stars and count down the days until you see your beloved again, a man who’s so much more than a simple summer fling.

⋆˚✿˖°☾𖤓⋆˚✿˖°☾𖤓

You smile as you bid your customer farewell. As soon as they’re out of sight, you sit back in the chair behind your booth and let out a quiet grunt at the slight ache in your knees from standing for so long. All that running around the Rebellion’s various bases to help the wounded really took its toll on you.

But you wouldn’t trade that time for anything. Or, perhaps, maybe only one other thing.

You force yourself to acknowledge the ache in your chest that’s been ever-present since the day you left Scespa. It’s only slightly dulled with time, but you know it’ll never fade. There were promises made that day that have yet to be fulfilled, but you feel no ill will. This is a big galaxy, and the secrecy you were sworn to in the Rebellion no doubt made your discovery difficult.

He’s moved on—at least, you hope he has. You gave up on any hope of trying to find another love long ago. Your love of helping others has been enough to fill the void.

This isn’t what’s on your mind, though, as you continue to sit and neaten the booth in front of you. You keep catching sight of the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, the children who laugh with their parents and the parents who can truly enjoy their children being safe and sound.

This planet was occupied by Imperials until the Rebellion effort, now the New Republic, eliminated the Empire’s threat. Now, these families are finally free to be out and about, something you’ve been fighting for ever since the beginning.

You take the ramitrol from the display and put it away. Thankfully, it’s gone untouched. At least this planet is reducing its share of blaster wounds, and that alone is progress you’re happy to see, no matter how much it might hurt your sales.

You set the jar down and widen your eyes as you come face-to-face with a giant brown of brown-black eyes. Pulling yourself away just a bit more, you observe more of the little creature. They’re no taller than your boot, and their green ears are petal-shaped in a way you’ve never seen before. They coo in interest at you, their head tilting as a row of tiny teeth smile at you.

“Hi there, little one,” you greet with a giggle. “Where did you come from?”

The creature babbles and turns around, but when there’s no one there to claim them, they turn back to you with a concerned furrow in their brow.

Your breath is nearly stolen with panic for them. “Are you lost?” You ease yourself onto one knee, gently reaching out for them. They lift their arms to let you pick them up, and you stand as you hold them in your elbow. “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” You give their head a pat to cheer them up. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Kid?” You hear a gruff voice from somewhere in the chaos of the busy marketplace, a modulated sound that gets closer and closer. “Where’d you—...”

It stops as the man comes into sight. It’s a Mandalorian, the first you’ve seen since the news of the Great Purge reached the Rebellion’s doorstep. He’s dressed head-to-toe in silver beskar armor, an impressive array of weapons on display and the outline of a mudhorn decorating the pauldron on his right shoulder. You ignore the sudden ache in your chest and muster a smile. “Are they yours?” You lift the little one in your arms.

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak. Instead, he tilts his helmet and takes a few steps forward, his gloved hands curling into gentle fists at his sides. You furrow your brow, slightly concerned by his silence as you resist the urge to take a step backwards. The child’s happiness in your arms, however, keeps you from doing so.

When the Mandalorian speaks again, his voice is so quiet and gentle you nearly miss it. “Cyar’ika?”

Your mouth goes dry as your lips part in disbelief. You give him a once-over, trying to look for something you recognize, but it’s impossible with all his armor on. For a second, you convince yourself you’ve heard him wrong. “Pardon?”

The Mandalorian takes another step closer, lifting his right hand and using his left hand to tug at the fabric that covers his wrist. Your heart stalls in your chest at the dark ink painted on his skin. It’s a wosac flower, the same thing used to make the ramitrol you’ve just set down.

The same thing a Mandalorian once gave you at the marketplace on Scespa.

You blink up at his visor, imagining the sweet gaze that lays underneath. “Din?”

Din nods, his cuirass stalling as his visor evidently takes in the sight of you. You do the same to him. It’s hard to imagine the same Din you once knew underneath all his armor, now somehow even taller and broader than he was all those years ago. At the same time, it makes sense, especially with the gentle way he approaches you.

He lifts a gloved hand as if he’s going to cup your face, but he stops himself, hesitating for a reason you can’t quite conceive of. Knowing you’ve both been waiting for this moment, you let your face fall into his open hand, his touch akin to the first breath taken after a loss of oxygen as you close your eyes and exhale.

“I…” Din starts, his breath hitching before he goes on, “I never stopped looking.”

You open your eyes at that, looking upon him with a ferocity of love you haven’t experienced since Scespa.

“I promise.” Din nods to affirm his words, his other hand now rising to hold your face as well. “It’s just…” he pauses to huff, “your Rebellion was too damn hard to find.”

You laugh, closing your eyes once again in a wave of relief so profound you nearly go weak in the knees. “That means we did our job well.”

There’s a smile in Din’s voice as he responds. “How was it?”

You face him again with a warm smile of your own. “Everything I dreamed of and more.” You free a hand from the child in your elbow to cover one of his hands on your face. “It was only missing one thing.”

Din tilts his helmet, waiting for your answer. Memories you spent years trying to repress flood your mind all at once, from that first wosac flower to his final promise of your reunion.

“You.”

Din’s helmet straightens again, his gloved thumbs running over your cheeks as his beskar comes closer to you. The feeling of the metal against your forehead is new, yet somehow familiar, as if you’ve been preparing for this over all these years. You know you have, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise. “Well, I’m here now.” Din’s words are soft, crackling through his modulator in a way that proves he’s said them just as much for himself as he has for you. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

You beam at him. “Yeah?”

Din nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t hesitate in following through on that promise he made you all those years ago. “I love you.” He frees one hand from you to cross his fist over his cuirass in a dutiful manner. “I always have. It’s never wavered, never changed.” He adds one more nod. “I swear it upon the Ancestors.”

“I know.” Your voice trembles as you reach forward to kiss his beskar cheek. “Because you were always a shit liar.” Din chuckles at that, relief flooding him in the way his tense armored shoulders relax. You wait until he’s fully facing you again to go on. “I love you, too.”

Din takes you close, and you bring yourself even closer, until your body is nearly flush against his armor. The whole planet, the whole galaxy, has faded around you, and neither one of you cares. Din instead continues to cradle your face, his visor inspecting you as if he’s searching for wounds. “Did you look at the stars?”

“Yes.” You answer his question truthfully. “Every night.”

“Me too.” Din’s visor meets your gaze again. “Did it help?”

You nod. “More than you’ll ever know.”

A sudden coo from the corner of your arm draws both your and Din’s attention. The little creature’s ears are raised high on their head as they look between you and Din. The two of you chuckle as you look up at Din with disbelief.

“Is he yours?”

Din nods. “For now.” The way he says the words proves he’s not happy with them. “I’ve been quested by the Armorer to reunite him with the Jedi.”

You widen your eyes at that, at least a hundred questions running through your mind at his words—but only one thought’s able to break through. “I met a Jedi.” You nod to further affirm your words. “I saw him a few times at our bases.”

Din tilts his helmet at that. “Well then, ner kar’ta, I guess you’ll just have to come with us.”

You set a hand on his cuirass and raise your brow. “I was coming anyway.”

Din softens and rests his helmet against your forehead again. “I know.”

“You need to tell me all about your adventures.” You think back on everything from your days on Scespa. “And the covert, and how the Creed’s been treating you.” Your gaze falls to the child in your arms. “And how you found this little guy.”

Din nods. “I’ll tell you everything.” He tilts his helmet at you. “So long as I get to hear about your adventures, too.”

You beam at him. “Of course.” You lower your voice. “So long as we still have time to… make up for all these years.”

Din runs his gloved fingers down your cheek. “All these years later, and you’re still able to say exactly what’s on my mind.” He hesitates, as if he’s just remembered he’s wearing a helmet. “But I’ll have to make you my riduur first.”

You raise your brow. “You say that like I might say no.”

Din draws in a quiet breath. “Well, I just…”

You stop him by going on. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, Din. Trust me.” Your hand brushes up to his cowl as you gently take it in your grasp. “I want to marry you.”

Din’s visor studies you once more, as if he’s searching for a lie, before he nods. “All right.” His voice is coated with relief as he sets his visor on the booth you’re no longer interested in running. “Then I’ll help you pack up.”

It’s as if no time’s passed. Watching Din load up your hovercart for you brings you back to that first day you met, when he returned at night to do the very same for you. Every moment feels like sweet nostalgia, even when you exchange your vows and earn the honor of seeing Din’s face for the first time in much too long.

And that’s when you meet those brown eyes again, earning the very same feeling you had the first time you ever saw them. Your heart somersaults in your chest, the moment suspending in time as the same boyish and charming smile you fell in love with so long ago spreads across his lips. Only this time, his brown hair has gotten somewhat longer, his untrimmed jaw and upper lip revealing just how much your adoration of him has somehow gotten stronger with age.

It’s the beginning of your forever, and yet it’s the same beginning as the earliest part of your story—a revival of your shared heaven that is more unbreakable than you could’ve ever dreamt.

previous ⟸ masterlist

#the final chapter! certainly long awaited and i hope it's worth the wait!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #breakable heaven #dindjarindiaries

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maudlxne · 2 months

Text

// I have a lot to fix up on this blog still. Considering it's 6+ years old but I have been inactive for 3 years. I have some characters to trim as well as verses to fix up. Plus my muses page needs to be swapped/changed. I'm probably going to make an interest tracker as well ( once I figure out how ) as well as a ship bias ( I see that's a newer development since I've been gone. It's definitely handy! ) but I'm multiship trash so that might get long. If you would like to be added to my verses / Mains page let me know! There aren't many of us voltron dorks still running around after all. Small quick bias ship list of current active muses. However, this doesn't mean it's the only thing I will ship. Acxa: Lotacxa, Kacxa, Veracxa, Alluracxa. Ezor: Zethrid Krolia: Kolivan, her husband ( Keith's father ) Matt (My Matt is roughly around 23 - 27 depending on verse): Shiro (I can't believe the ship name for this is shatt ), Allura (maybe ), Matt getting a vacation. Hinata: Sasuhina, Naruhina, Sakuhina, the list goes on a little too long for her.

#;; out of attitude

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howlingday · 10 months

Note

Assuming Godzilla didn’t do so in Argus, when did he first use his Atomic breath?

Honestly, I'm still kinda debating on whether or not he used his atomic breath on the Leviathan. I don't have any plans for future kaiju-sized Grimm, so it would make sense for him to use his atomic breath against it. But I also don't want to cheapen it as a "Oh, he can just finish the fight from the start" or something. I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking this...

Okay, how about this? I'll describe what Godzilla probably did during the fight, and if it doesn't sound good, then it'll just be a first draft and we'll work from there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so Godzilla V. Leviathan takes place after the Colossus is out of commission, with Caroline Cordovin laying there defeated, expecting a death blow. Instead, the Leviathan crawls from the sea where Godzilla entered Argus from, since he took out the hard-light wall protecting the city. It'll grab hold of his tail and try to drag him into the water. Angered by this, Godzilla tugs his tail to shore, in a sort of tug-of-war with the Grimm.

With one final yank, the Leviathan lands ashore in the residential district. Rolling off the ground and crushing a few houses doing so, the Grimm stands and lets out a roar to intimidate Godzilla. Not threatened in the slightest, Godzilla gives a roar back and charges at the Leviathan. They crash together, booming like an explosion. There, it's an exchange of claws.

As the Schnee Dust Company and Atlas Military coordinate to evacuate the civilians to safety, Jacques Schnee stares out at the carnage he brought forth. It shakes something in him, especially while the two titans duke it out in the middle of the city. Willow keeps tugging on his arm before choosing instead to evacuate her son to safety with her and Winter. General Ironwood barks orders to his men, then approaches Jacques. The two then watch in horror as more and more destruction occurs. Never before had either man felt so helpless.

Meanwhile, down below, the Leviathan snaps Godzilla's arm in its jaw, attempting to rip it off and also tries to dig its massive claws into Godzilla's hide. Godzilla is too tough for the Grimm and reaches forward to bite the massive fin on the Grimm's spine. It shrieks out in pain, letting go of Godzilla and pushing away to safety. It then tackles Godzilla, using its greater size to try pushing him to the water, where the Leviathan holds the advantage (or what it assumes is the advantage).

Tripping over something (not sure if it's a barricade between the wharf and the sea or something more feasibly sturdy), Godzilla falls into the water, with the Grimm holding it down as it swims deeper into the water. There is a faint light that grows dimmer and dimmer. Minutes feel like years as the audience watch with bated breath as the battle becomes unseen.

General Ironwood steps away to inform his men that the monsters have taken to the sea and that all seacraft should dock at the nearest port that isn't Argus. Once confirmed, Jacques finally speaks, and it's with words of regret. Had he known that this would have happened, he wouldn't have pushed for the project to be restarted. The general says, "Save the regret for after you stand trial" explaining that he intends to press legal charges against him that will hold him accountable for the destruction of Argus. At this, Jacques regains his fight as he snarls and warns that if he tries, he'll counter-sue to pin the blame on the general and his military for being too weak to stop the project, and even has documents proving that the military also funded the project.

This bickering was ended by an explosion from the water. Looking down, they see the Leviathan crawling onto the shore. At this, both men are silent, though their fear was still palpable. It eyes them both with its banefully red eyes. It digs it's claws into the outpost wall, attempting to climb to reach the men. General Ironwood reaches for his gun, ready to shatter the window to try a final attempt to kill the Grimm. Jacques shouts at him, saying "If that monster couldn't kill him, what makes you think you can?!" General Ironwood replies, "Even if I die, at least I'll die fighting it instead of screaming like a coward."

As the Leviathan digs its claw into the outpost again, it's knocked down by a dust-encased tail to its torso. Yelping in pain, it falls onto its back, its spinal frill trapped in the ground (or something better, maybe?). Godzilla steps closer, glaring down at the Grimm. It roars in defiance.

Suddenly, its tail starts glowing a dim light, glowing brighter and brighter until it's all white (or maybe black, since it's all colors?). The dust further up the tail did the same, as did the ones on his legs, arms and back. They not only shine, but they also extend from his body as well. The crystals shine brighter and brighter until they become blinding. Then the dust sinks into his body, and Godzilla opens his mouth at the Leviathan, unleashing its "atomic breath" at the Grimm. It screams in agony until all that's left is scorching earth.

As the ash fades away, Godzilla looks to the outpost, where the Grimm had been climbing. At the top, he sees two humans and one of them is armed. General Ironwood holsters his gun, and Godzilla lets out a grumble. He then retreats to the sea, sinking beneath the waves almost instantly.

The people of Argus and Atlas survived... for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What do you guys think? Good? Bad? Some way to make it better? Please let me know!

#rwby #godzilla #godzilla in remnant #rwby au #my answers #jacques schnee #james ironwood

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battlfofendorr · 2 months

Text

Heatstroke

Summary: Vigilante hates global warming. Also, he doesn't miss Peacemaker. Honest.

# # #

The moon was a puddle in the sky, a big fat wad of spit leaking droplets of unforgiving moonlight all over everything like an oppressive goddamn sky bug, adding swampiness and stick to an already unforgivable night.

Peacemaker still wasn't answering his calls - and from his walk-by, careful observation, and full-on stake-out, he wasn't home.

Locked away from the fresh reprieve of the almost present reluctant breeze behind his mask – his visor painting the whole world with a bloody glow – Adrian Chase sweltered, alone.

Peacemaker was one of those bright spots in his life - a friend that he didn't have to lie to. A friend that he could tell anything, and that sometimes even listened.

In the blistering heat, without that touchstone, he didn’t feel much like Vigilante. The weak will was pure Adrian, already overly hot from his shift at Fennel Fields.

He cooked. He sweated, each breath incrementally harder as he walked – strode, even – through the oppressive night.

Not even the desire to test out his recently re-edged knives – as clean and carefully-tended as ever – could add some pep to his rapidly overheating step.

Sweat poured over his number one weapon of vengeance, dripping down his back, pooling along the crevices, slipping from the crown of his head – why did that just make his hair itch so? – down his ass crack, over the curve of his knees, all the way to the moisture-wicking inserts in his boots.

It was damn near a river, and even with his best socks, each step squelched.

Somehow, maybe because the fluids were from inside his own treasonous cells, it was worse than the time he’d fought a pair of hooligans in the sewer, their illegal fireworks snapping and popping in the sludge of sewage. Worse than the time he’d fallen into the river trying to catch a guy snagging fish outside the posted dates and nearly drowned himself, too.

Worse than the pig farm, with all that manure.

Or maybe he was worse, because those nights, he’d slipped on the suit and settled into his alter ego like a man pulling back a mask instead of putting one on.

A thought wavered in the back of his mind, wimpy and wane – as pathetic as he’d ever been:

Maybe it was too hot for justice.

Maybe without a friend it was pointless.

The thoughts brought along even more weak-minded friends:

Maybe it was okay to give up his patrol and go grab six pack, to latch onto an ice-cold bottle of reprieve and drown away the miserable, moist night.

Maybe – and it was the worst of the thoughts - nobody would even notice.

He could almost justify it - it would give him time to study his enemies. To train in the safety of regulated, AC-circulated air. To stitch up damaged suit parts and touch up the paint.

And maybe knowing the intimate workings of the White Dragon suit or Batman’s tactical belt might give him ideas for his own gear. Upgrades.

Maybe it would make him better or maybe give him an edge, if it ever came down to it. Not that he’d ever fight Batman, but the schematics people drew up online of his Batgear was fascinating, and besides, if he did…

Well, he’d need an edge, wouldn’t he?

Maybe there was honor in retreating from the heat. In regrouping, and studying, and training, just for one night.

Maybe there was a reason the air was so goddamned inhospitable and the usually welcoming dark was so muddled with all the moonlight.

Maybe it was a push, so he’d train the rest of himself as hard as he’d trained his body. Hone his brain – or indulge in a hyper-focus anyway. Unsweep the cobwebs of his mind, before he lost the neural pathways that sometimes only almost connected together into coherent thoughts.

Adrian had almost convinced himself to give in to those impulses – to his body’s attempt to seek cool air - when he heard the familiar rattling of spray paint, that metallic bead shaking, shrieking, giving away the location of the graffiti artist.

That sound shattered the heat, the doubt, the weakness. It obliterated the boredom, the sweat.

It brought him back to himself, to the face he hadn’t quite fixed into place yet. Brought him back to the Vigilante. To the reason for the suffering, for the long, often uneventful evenings alone. To the reason he was out, to begin with.

Somewhere, someone was breaking the law. And he was – if nothing else – a vigilant crime fighter.

Someone had to be, with Peacemaker off the streets.

Vigilante knew this, too: he was a super hero, sure, and there to protect, to defend the law, but he was also there to fill another need…

The need to fight.

For a second, Vigilante could forget the way he was going to smell when he finally peeled the suit off at the end of the night. The wrinkled, pruned, uncomfortable way his feet set in his socks. He could forget the temperature, the way he was slowly cooking in place, even after midnight.

Global warming be damned – he had criminals to eliminate.

That jaunty little bounce returned, the jovial smile.

He had – and not even the moon’s unrelenting puddle of pink could blot it out of him - a purpose.

“Drop the paint can, motherfucker,” and though the words were serious, though the fight that was undoubtedly going to occur would be brutally violent, Vigilante couldn’t help but feel - finally - at ease behind his mask.

Heat? Pain? Pruned flesh?

None of it could touch him. Not when he had the bone-cold relief of pure justice. Not when he'd put in all those hours and all that work to turn himself into the person he'd once needed so badly.

Vigilante whistled as he worked. He giggled. And though he had nobody to play with, he did play.

Well, sort of. #

#vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase fic #adrian chase #peacemaker #Some days it is harder to be in go mode than others #why is summer

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kaldorei-shadows · 2 years

Text

Hexphae, the Legend Continues

Later that evening, when he sensed she had calmed down about being indoors, Al joined Hexphae by the fireplace. The inn had emptied of most patrons by that late hour. Most were locals, with their own homes in Darkshire mere steps away. Others went on duty as the Nightwatch.

She grunted in acknowledgement.

"Hail," Al teased her. Lightly, he hoped. "You do miss your home. I miss mine as well."

Hexphae had brown skin with gray-green eyes. It was a rare color, nuanced. Like winter moss. Her hair was a deep orange-red. Closer to the color of a flower. Winter and summer trapped in the same woman. Al told her that.

Hexphae's smile wilted soon after the compliment. "You lived in the great, sacred tree that was destroyed. I asked about you."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Is that all they said about me?"

She looked over her shoulder. "None of them know you, as a person. Like myself. Only on the outside, that is what people see."

"You could use some friends," Al kindly observed. "I'm not sure if Darkshire is the place for you, right now." Other than getting her to move along to Stormwind and eventually Shaw and Arathi, Al knew he had a point. Darkshire had its own problems.

The town sort of drained people. It also seemed to attract weirdos. Some of whom were staring openly at the two of them by the fire at the moment. Three of the five had serious necromancer vibes, or worse. Al judged they were probably Medivh wannabes, hoping some of the vile accomplishments of his at Kharazhan had seeped into the stuff of the earth or the spooky air. They hoped it would rub off on their not-so-secret, let's meet on Tuesdays in the basement tavern nights. The grand, yet unusual Hexphae must have seemed like something they dreamed of conjuring up. A rare woman of uknowable ability, from another reality, if they could bring themselves to believe it.

"Not that Goldshire is less strange, but my own friends, and my colleagues, are set up there as well."

She scowled, "Shaw's people."

"No, we're all Night Elves, actually. I admit, I'd rather have you meet my people first, talk things over. We can give you more options."

Hexphae grinned, "Ah! A little game is being played. Against this Shaw. I knew I liked you!"

Al smiled back, "Don't laugh, I'm sure there were spies in your time. But I do like to be honest where I can. It's easier to build trust and hey-- you're in a bad spot. You shouldn't be left alone in this world. Maybe my Night Elf friends and I can get this resolved in a way that suits you better than a fake title in Shaw's personal army, shoddy lodgings in Arathi, and a blue-and-gold tabard."

Hexphae grunted again. Al was losing her. He made up his mind right then, that he wasn't going to live in the woods for a week just to convince this woman.

Al leaned in, "The Alliance is all over the continent. Now that we've found you, we're never going to leave you alone. It's too late for that. You need some good ground to stand on, and true allies. I don't want Shaw to push you around."

Hexphae rubbed her hands, opened them again to the radiating heat of the fireplace. They could still hear the rain coming down outside.

She observed, "Shaw pushes you around. Can you really make any deals with me? On your own?"

"Ugh. It shouldn't be that way, you know. I was alive before he came along, in the time of his greatest great-grandfathers."

"How old are you?"

Al shrugged, "I was around in your time--"

"Really! We could have met up!"

"It was thousands of years ago. I was on a different continent. There IS another continent, you know. What remains of Night Elf lands are there."

"Oh? What is it like in your woods?" Hexphae gave Al her weird smile again.

"Ah so... " Hexphae clearly had her own reasons for sticking with him. How long had she been all on her own, a woman totally alone?

Was now the time to tell her he was married? Every local mission was like this, the big reveal. Charm got him into most situations, but the dream eventually shattered. They weren't off in some far away land, Hexphae was going to meet the rest of the Kaldorei Rogue Network soon, and ultimately his wife Opal. But Al would be damned before he was gonna run off into those woods yet again, live in the dirt while stalking her like prey.

And why were Hexphae's long legs so muddy? That was days' worth of caked mud. Al hadn't figured that part out yet.

Then came the feel of her budging up against him in that beautiful runed armor and little skirt, on the bench they shared.

Al coughed, "Let's uh... get you to Goldshire. As soon as possible. For a few reasons."

It was a great joke. Stunning. Blinding, even. But Hexphae didn't get it. Not yet.

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b-kitsune · 5 years

Text

Many ways to say I love you: Day Six.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Haunting. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Victorian AU. Status: Part 1/4.

Katie heard a shot at a prudent distance that made her jump from her own steed with surprise when she chased her brother down the winding roads of the forest. She heard the birds lift the flight to the opposite direction from where the loud sounds came, making her hum irritably.

Matthew, her beloved older brother who was leading her to the provisional camp for that afternoon, approached her as soon as he realized she wasn't following his step, worried that something might have happened along the way.

''Pidge, is everything okay?'' Katie hummed again much more irritated at the mention of that ridiculous nickname that Matt had given her since her most tender years. Starting again the gallop of her faithful companion.

''I would greatly appreciate it that you don't call me like this in front of our father's guests today.'' She answered, trying to ignore a new shot that was heard much closer than the first time, making their own horses nervous. Matt simply smiled at her words when he pulled the rope to control his partner. ''Did they have to be so terribly wild with those shotguns?''

''Well, that's the idea, my dear and illusioned sister.'' Matt said with sympathy. ''Besides, even Bae Bae is enjoying today accompanying our father and his friends in the hunt. Wouldn't it be simpler for you to try to do the same, instead of grumbling like a dejected child all day?''

''No. It wouldn't be.'' Katie accelerated the pace after the latter, demonstrating her renegade posture towards her brother. Matt just sighed with regret.

''Well, then it will be a long day.''

Katie preferred to ignore her brother before throwing another scathing comment when she made her way to the supposed camp that she hoped was ready when she arrived. The undergrowth was surrounding the earth as it moved, giving it a dreamlike image through which it passed, the resounding of the birds became prominent along with the buzzing of insects around it, and thanks to the sun that heated that day with efficiency, she doesn't need to wear a second layer of clothes over her favorite dress to spend that afternoon.

The more time passed, every second, Katie was convinced that from the depths of her heart she hated nature. She found it haunting to think that many people enjoyed the outdoors.

When she arrived, she kindly thanked Commander Iverson for getting off her horse and walking towards the assembled people who settled in the valley. Iverson was a strict person most of the time and they battled countless times in her younger days, now she had a deep respect and esteem from him. Approaching one of the awnings that had been installed for the shadow, Katie could see Allura being bombarded by the affections of a charismatic young man who did his best to get her attention. Shiro had mentioned his name sometime last night, when he arrived at her home after a long business trip, alluding that he was one of the army cadets who were in the same grade as Keith, and would accompany them to the hunt this season. But she had forgotten his name so quickly when Katie heard from her beloved that he was an insufferable being.

By the face of her dearest friend, Katie could well give credit to his words, the boy didn't give up at any time, even when Allura was clearly indifferent.

''Katie my life, it's good you arrived.'' She heard her father came from her back with his horse at his side, apparently preparing for the hunt. ''We thought that something had happened to you before leaving the mansion.''

''Sorry father, I entertained myself thinking about the multiple tasks that I could have done this afternoon, instead of being in the middle of the forest.'' Another shot was heard in the distance, making Katie slightly trembled eyelid. ''And with the unbearable noise of your weapons.''

''Don't say that, my love. The outdoors makes you good from time to time, you can't be in your Father's lab all your life.''

''Is that a challenge?''

A gentle laugh caused Katie to divert her attention to his well-known owner, seeing when Keith approached them with a calm demeanor, dressed appropriately for the occasion, and also carried a shotgun resting on the side of his shoulder, and a wolf his around who watched her with curiosity. Katie took a step back, fearful; she had never seen a beast of that size at such close range, vaguely remembering that Keith had named him at some point in their personal meetings, that his family had trained those animals for hunting, and they had been faithful partners for many generations. But she feigned calmness as best she could, what she least wanted was to look like a coward in front of the man who courted her and her family's friends.

''From what I've heard, you don't seem to be very interested in the sport of hunting.'' Katie stood disdainfully crossing her arms over her chest, trying to ignore that wolf was approaching her.

''Certainly, that intelligent on your part to have realized.'' She answered sardonically, making her father call her attention.

''That's no way to respond like a lady, Katie.''

''It's okay, Mr. Holt. I have already become familiar with the 'sense of humor ' of the young lady here present.''

Katie smiled when Keith took one of her hands to bring it to his lips, a clear recognition of adoration to her person, and the expected courtesy of a man of his category, without losing eye contact on her at any time. Among all the suitors Katie had had since she came of age, Keith was definitely her favorite.

''You see father, Mr. Kogane understands my words.''

''Oh totally, but your father is right that it would be pertinent that you were a little more cautious, not everyone could be familiar with you... Charms.''

''Don't worry about that, my stay in this place will not take more than a couple of hours.'' She answered modestly, and something calmer as soon as the wolf approached Iverson with interest. Keith looked at her disillusioned.

''Don't you stay for dinner, dear? It is likely that this year's hunting will be quite charitable.'' Her father said with concern. ''Also, I don't think it's safe to come back on your own.''

''I will not go back home, Father, Allura has invited me to spend a couple of days in the Altea mansion, and it's a couple of hours away from here.''

''Miss Allura, who is being stalked by a dear armament partner, is likely to stay until dinner.'' Keith replied funny when he saw Lance finally get a couple of laughs at the girl mentioned.

''Seriously? She hasn't told me anything. What could have made her change her mind?'' Katie looked at him questioningly, Keith just shrugged.

''She hasn't done it yet, but it is the safest thing she will tell you before noon, my friend is very persuasive when he proposes it.''

''I attest to that.'' Samuel said a little compassionately. ''It looks like you'll have to stay for the whole evening, dear.''

''Wow, what a waste of a day.''

She said no more, completely dejected when she realized that she couldn't escape her own luck when Katie walked with them to the hunting area while all the horses were ready. Keith, however, was satisfied, alluding that it made him genuinely happy to know that he could be with her company all day, which made her blush a little.

Although it had been two seasons since she met Keith Kogane, she was still ashamed of the words of her beloved.

Katie knew at least half of the individuals who were preparing for the hunt that day, many of her father's workmates whom she had already seen at parties and real events, and junior cadets who were invited by the generals and lieutenants, to forge the camaraderie between companions, a fairly common use to diminish the conflicts between them, besides being used as an approach for the courtship of the daughters of the generals. Since the majority who entered the army were children of bourgeois and nobles.

Something like what had happened to Katie when Shiro started taking Keith to her family dinners. With the sole intention that both forged a friendship that would lead to a possible commitment.

And like everything Shiro did, it had turned out the wrong way. Since both were negatively enhanced. Although both had diminished their adolescent stubbornness for many years, they still had a fearful character and tended to complement each other dangerously when they had common goals.

Her brother had said that at least they worked efficiently together, and supported each other in an impressive way.

''Tell me the truth, Mr. McClain really has a chance to get the attention of my dear friend?'' Katie questioned when the horses advanced towards a possible deer seen in the distance. Keith snorted sardonically at the thought when he saw his wolf at his side.

''Not at all, Lance has no tact or courtesy, even coming from a noble family. It will end by filling it up before lunch.''

''What a liar Mr. Kogane is, you have tricked me into using my company!'' Katie pretended to be hurt, placing a hand on her chest. ''And using your best friend as bait!''

''Someone had to sacrifice.'' Keith replied proudly. ''Besides, it would have been a shame if you retired so early. Knowing how happy you make me spend time by your side.''

Katie smiled shyly at his words, calling him cretin gently when she moved toward her father. They approached with pause towards a group that had stopped to recharge the shotguns. There, Katie took advantage of getting off her horse to stretch her legs a little, burying the heel of her boots on the flimsy earth.

''Your daughter has followed the step without details, Samuel. I am impressed by her abilities riding a horse so big despite her ... Altitude.'' Samuel laughed nervously, thinking that her daughter preferred to keep silence to the mention of her stature.

''I appreciate it, Colonel. is my great pride with her brother Matt.''

''And where is your oldest son? I thought you would join us in hunting for this day.'' Iverson asked, noting that Matt wasn't around.

''He preferred to accompany Lieutenant Shirogane in the meadow, it's not ... Very close to this sport. None of my children, really. Katie is here because staying under an awning is not exactly her favorite pastime.''

''Don't you enjoy hunting, Miss Holt?'' Katie only shrugged when a lieutenant caught her attention, disinterested.

''If you allow me to say it, it seems to be an act of the most barbaric, sir.''

''That's because women don't understand about male assets.'' A third voice resounded in the environment, attracting the attention of more than one person due to its haughty tone. ''With all due respect, Mr. Holt. Don't you think it would be better if your daughter were limited to comment on interests that concern her?''

''And what are those interests, according to you, Mr. Griffin?''

It didn't go unnoticed by anyone that Katie almost spat the name of her lips. James Griffin was the assistant of scientific advance in the work of her father, and one of the best riders of the last promotion in the Garrison Navy, after Keith. She had spoken to him on more than one occasion thanks to the parties that the navy gave occasionally, without much interest in their conversations. And he had tried to woo her the first few months.

Katie had rejected him for his haughty attitude about his companions, and little interest in her personal opinions. Shortly after she accepted Keith Kogane's courtship, resentment resurfaced in Griffin's heart, which always came to light when she spoke openly on some subject.

But before Griffin could answer Katie's question, the barking of the wolf made his horse frighten, losing control of the reins and falling flat on his face before he realized it. Many people worried, others simply limited their laughter to their clumsiness.

''It seems that Mr. Griffin should limit himself to holding his reins well, before giving his opinion on matters that don't concern him.'' Keith's voice echoed through the crowd, generating James's anger when he got up, with one arm resentful of the fall.

''Defending the honor of a spoiled girl will not increase your courage, Kogane!''

''I don't need to defend the honor of anyone, Pidge can do it by herself without needing a savior.''

''That so true? When it is well known that Miss Holt barely manages to master her own haughtiness.'' Questioned superb, Keith growled annoyed by his imprudence.

''Of course, her honesty is unblemished. That's why she rejected you immediately when you presented your affections, Mr. Griffin.''

The awkward silence reigned for a few seconds before Keith's biting comment, but Samuel took the opportunity to stop them and order a couple of cadets to help Griffin with his right arm. Katie just caressed the back of her new friend, thanking it for his quick help at the right time. The wolf didn't generate fear when she saw him so obedient. Griffin only limited himself to heading towards his horse to reach the camp, finding himself unable to continue the hunt. There was no need for any response.

Soon everyone started moving again, avoiding commenting on the recent situation. Or it was well known that Lieutenant Holt's anger would be taken away.

Katie approached Keith when he got off the horse, staying behind the group that was heading to a next dam, much calmer than seconds ago while caressing the fur of his beloved fella.

''You didn't have to confront Griffin, Keith. Now everyone will think that you must defend my own value before others.''

''I didn't do it, he did it.'' He answered innocently while caressing the back of the ear of his pet. Katie smiled gratefully, ignoring the fact that Keith openly called her by her family nickname in front of the others. She had no reason to bother at that moment. ''Besides, there's nothing wrong with that, Katie.'' He took her face with his hands to kiss the outline of her petite nose, as a sincere gesture. ''You can always defend mine when I commit some imprudence.'' Katie kissed his lips sweetly when Keith took the reins of his horse.

''Whenever you want, dear.''

#peith #kidge #kidgefanfic #monthofkidge #kidgeapalooza #kidgeapalooza2019 #keith #keith kogane #keith (voltron)#katieholt #Pidge #pidge gunderson #voltron #voltronship #victorian au #lance mcclain #allura #maybe a shatt too?

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nasykuching · 7 years

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(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#hehe #i got heartbreak this valentine #so i made lovey dovey klance for myself #i hope you guys can spend a good time with the one you love #klance #keith #lance #voltron #vld #shiro #matt #btw i made valentine shatt too #maybe i'll upload it later

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whumperstorm · 6 years

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who wants to read some fuckin uhhhh writing I’ve been working on

#its shatt whump #im trying realling fockin hard to finish i #it #i will finish something in my lifetime #maybe #i drew a comic strip for it too #melody speaks #my posts

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peachy-panic · 3 years

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A Whisper, A Vow

FIFTY-EIGHT DAYS MASTER LIST

Takes place after THIS.

TAG LIST: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @distinctlywhumpthing (I truly can’t remember if anyone else has asked to be on this list, so please let me know if I missed you/you want to be added!)

WARNINGS: This one is a bit heavy. Immediate aftermath of torture/assault, blood, implied whipping, implied noncon, alcohol mentions, whumpee-turned-caretaker-forced-to-whump-kind-of? Once again warning for potential typo chaos, as I am bad at making myself proofread things before posting. Enjoy!

Elijah had been gone for… it had to have been hours, right? Time passed at an excruciating pace when you were locked away in the dark, with nothing to engage your mind except the constant terror and increasing hopelessness of your predicament. Grayson had taken to curling up in the furthest corner of the cell, trying to keep warm despite the rapidly falling temperatures. During the days, even the single layer of his jeans and polo was enough to make him sticky and flushed within minutes in the merciless sun. The heat here was already a huge adjustment from what he was used to back home. But now, in the darkness of night, surrounded by cold stone walls and a dirty floor beneath him, Grayson was freezing.

He had redressed himself after… after what happened before they took Elijah from the room. It was a slow, detached process; pulling his pants up and refastening them with trembling hands, having to try and try again with the button when he shook too hard to maintain his grasp. It was nearly impossible with his hands still tied in front of him. His shirt was less salvageable. The man who had assaulted Grayson had cut it from bottom-to-top, leaving only a loose piece of fabric for him to wrap around himself. He hugged it tight around his shoulders, the way his mom would have wrapped a towel around him when he was a little kid, fresh out of the swimming pool on a hot day.

The thought knocked into his chest with bruising force, stealing all the air from his lungs in the form of a sob.

His skin prickled with goosebumps under the palms that rubbed furiously, repeatedly, compulsively over his biceps, trying in vain to maintain some sort of warmth. Trying to feel anything at all other than the horrible terror and cold that threatened to consume him. It was so much worse when he was alone. He wasn’t sure how long Elijah had been here on his own before Grayson had noticed he was missing from the camp, but he felt a renewed sense of guilt at the thought. He must have been terrified.

Though, maybe not as terrified as he must be now. Wherever he was.

He closed his eyes against the memory of his face as he was dragged from the cell, the panic etched in alongside the resignation. Even in fear, he had already resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him, because it was an arrangement he had orchestrated. He had offered himself up in Grayson’s place in the face of unspeakable violence, knowing full well it would be turned on him instead.

Grayson couldn’t think about specifics. Some self-protective facet of his mind wouldn’t fully let him access the part of him that knew what could very well be happening to Elijah right now. What had come so close to happening to him only hours ago. The man in charge had let them know, in the worst way possible, what he intended to do with them. What he was capable of doing. But he didn’t know anything for sure. For now, in this state of helplessness, he could curl up and hide himself in that uncertainty. If ignorance was bliss, the denial of this probable truth was his only defense against losing his sanity.

If he pretended nothing bad was happening to Elijah, maybe it would be easier to cope with his complete inability to help him. Maybe it would be easier to forget that it was supposed to be him instead.

*****

There was a half-second of relief when the cell door rattled open -- proof enough that the isolation was wearing on him -- but it shattered just as soon as it came. In the dim light of the doorway, the silhouettes of two guards hulked over Elijah’s unsteady form on either side of him, holding him up by the arms. The leader was not with them this time, but that relief was just as short-lived as Elijah was shoved roughly forward. His knees and elbows gave a feeble attempt at breaking his fall before collapsing on him, sending him sprawling face-first to the ground with a soft cry. Then he was still, the only movement coming from the jerk of his ribcage as he drew in sharp, uneven breaths.

The light from the doorway began shrinking and Grayson jerked his eyes back to the guards who wordlessly closed the door. Part of him wanted to call out to them, to ask what they had done to him, to appeal to whatever mercy they had and ask them to let them go, to ask for something as simple as lighting the lantern on the ceiling for light and warmth.

He didn’t do any of that. His rational fear of provoking their attention outweighed the unlikely possibility of obtaining anything helpful from the exchange. He had only one priority right now.

Grayson scrambled forward on his knees, shuffling through the dirt until he reached Elijah’s side. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, a growing horror swelled in his chest. Elijah’s hands were unbound, but that seemed to be where the mercies ended. The undershirt he had worn earlier was gone. All down his back, which stuttered and fell every few seconds with a new ragged breath, were bloody lines of raised skin, crossing and overlapping across his spine, over his shoulders, around his ribs, disappearing beneath the elastic of his briefs. It was the only article of clothing he had left, and cold dread dripped down the back of Grayson’s neck as he allowed his gaze to trail lower.

He turned away immediately, clamping his eyes shut. His stomach turned over. There was blood. Separate from the long, crimson streaks that trickled down his back was a smear on the inside of his thighs. A patchy stain in his shorts. Grayson’s breathing hitched to a stop, then quickened as he forced himself to stay grounded. If not for himself, then for his fellow missionary who was in open crisis in front of him.

“E… Elijah?” he tried gently, keeping his own bound hands clutched tightly against his chest. He could feel his heartbeat through the coarse ropes on his wrists.

There was no verbal response, and he wasn’t really sure he was expecting one, but there was the faintest movement in the muscles around his neck and shoulders at the sound of his name. Grayson tried again, keeping his voice low and as calm as he could make it.

“Hey, are you with me?” he asked. His hands stretched out on instinct, aching to connect with or comfort him in some way, but they stopped short just above his bloodied shoulder blades. There weren’t many unmarked places on his body for him to touch. “Elijah?”

A sob, deep and guttural, shook Elijah’s entire body. It rippled out into smaller jolts of movement, his half-naked form shaking in time with the sound against the dirt floor until he could pull in another gulp of air and start all over.

Grayson watched helplessly, hovering over him with trembling, outstretched hands. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to make this better, or even how he could actively avoid making it worse. He was rendered frozen by his own uselessness.

One of Elijah’s hands, the one closest to Grayson, curled up in his periphery, fingers digging weakly into the dirt as if he were clutching for something to hold onto. Grayson took a leap, hoping it wasn’t horribly misguided, and lowered his bound hands to clasp Elijah’s between them. He flinched at the initial contact, but before he could fully retract his hand from the touch, his muscles relaxed marginally, just enough for his fingers to go lax between Grayson’s.

“Hey,” Grayson said again, his voice coming out a whisper as the first tears tracked down his cold cheeks. “T-tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do.”

The muscles in his back twitched again, but the movement was different this time. A broken grunt of exertion caught in his throat as Elijah tried to push himself up -- or onto his side, or something other than face-down on the cell floor -- and immediately collapsed back down. Another sob tumbled from his lips, trailing off into something Grayson could only think to call a whimper. He could feel his heart breaking for the shy kid he had sat next to on the airplane. The kid who had thrown himself into the line of fire to save Grayson from suffering… this.

“Hurts.” A small voice finally broke out. His head was still angled slightly away from Grayson’s.

Grayson tilted his chin up, trying to force back tears that only continued to fall from the corners of his eyes. His chin quivered as he let his eyes fall shut, sending up a silent prayer to a God that had never felt so far away from him. God, please help me. Please help him.

He could feel Elijah’s muscles starting to tighten again, another attempt to move, and Grayson moved his hands gently to his arm. He applied just enough pressure to keep him down, which wasn’t much at all. “Hey,” he whispered. “Maybe… maybe let’s not try to move for now, okay?”

Instantly the head of sweat-matted, black hair collapsed back against the dirt with a soft thud, followed by a single, exhausted nod. Grayson sat back on his heels, assessing the situation as best he could through the haze of panic that had settled over him. The marks across Elijah’s back were bad. Most of them were still open and oozing, and the ones that weren’t were swollen and red, the heat coming off his skin so palpable that Grayson could feel it radiating off him from several inches away. The first-aid classes he’d been required to take for his summer job as a lifeguard, and then again to be a group leader for the mission, had hardly prepared him for something like this. Still, it didn’t take a doctor to understand the basic care requirements for an open wound. With nothing but a dirt floor beneath him and no proper treatment, his back would be lit up with infections in less than a day.

If they planned on letting them live that long.

Roughly shoving that thought aside, Grayson staggered to his feet and crossed to the door of the cell. He threw his entire weight into it, pounding against the wood with his bound fists. “Hey!” he shouted, feeling something give in his dry throat. “He needs… he needs some help in here!”

He felt ridiculous. If there was anything he had gathered from his interactions with these men over the course of one very long night, it was that they didn’t care what happened to them. Despite whatever seedy intentions the man in charge had for them, cryptic as he was about them, Grayson was sure having one or both of them die slowly and painfully in this cell was just as viable an option. But he couldn’t just… sit by and do nothing while Elijah suffered. Again.

He pounded harder this time, pretending not to notice the visible flinch in the corner of his eye. “Please,” he tried again, fighting back the burning pinpricks behind his eyes. “I’m not asking you to let us go. I just… I just need something to clean his injuries. Please.”

A beat of silence passed. He pressed his ear to the door, hoping to hear some sign of acknowledgement on the other side. It was silent. Grayson let his head fall forward in exhausted frustration, pressing his brow against the grainy wood. He opened his mouth to speak again, then snapped it shut, shooting a backward glance at Elijah before he said his next words. He hadn’t moved an inch, but his fingers were burrowed deep in the dirt, grasping onto some relief he couldn’t find, his breathing as staggered and labored as it was before. Grayson wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t registering a word he was saying.

“He could die,” he shouted to whatever uncaring ears were listening on the outside. “Is that what you want? Is that what your boss wa--”

Without warning, the solid wood collided with Grayson’s face as it was shoved open, jamming into his nose and mouth and filling his senses with sharp pain and the taste of iron. He stumbled back raising his fists on instinct to protect his bloodied face, but the guard who entered paid him no attention. The man, one of the same from earlier, wordlessly chucked a filthy-white, plastic bucket onto the ground, a crest of water sloshing out the top and into the dirt. Then, after retrieving a match from his pocket, illuminated the room with a small, merciful flame in the lantern. Grayson barely had time to appreciate the gesture before panic reared up again at the sight of the guard leaving.

“Wait,” he cried, lunging forward to grab the man’s arm; a gesture that was immediately, roughly smacked away. “Please,” he continued without pause, “he needs more than just water. That won’t be enough to clean out cuts that deep. An infection like that could kill him.”

He followed the guard’s eyes to Elijah’s incapacitated form. The man seemed to be studying him, considering something as his gaze raked over the injuries on his back, and lower. Revulsion flooded into Grayson’s throat as he wondered if this was one of the guards who had taken part in the assault. He swallowed back the sudden urge to throw himself between them as a human barrier. Regardless of this man’s involvement in what happened, the fact was that they were at his mercy now. Elijah was depending on him.

“Please,” he begged one more time. This finally drew the guard’s eyes back to him. He let out a curt snort of laughter, then reached into the small satchel off his belt.

“Here,” he said in a thick accent, shoving a large, silver flask into his bound hands. “That’s his favorite.”

Grayson had a feeling he was better off not knowing the context behind his comment, but he didn’t waste time thinking about it. As soon as the cell door slammed shut, the heavy lock shifting into place on the outside, Grayson shoved the flask into his pocket and dragged the mostly-full bucket of water back to Elijah’s side.

The state of his injuries was even more brutal in the light. Between the blood that was still trickling from Grayson’s nose and the endless flood of it on Elijah’s body, the coppery smell stirred at his insides, making him dizzy and nauseous and all the things he didn’t need to be right now if he had any hope of helping this kid. He sank to his knees, allowing himself just a moment to close his eyes, to take a few deep breaths through his mouth. To center himself for what he was about to do.

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t let himself hesitate.

“Elijah,” he said evenly, already reaching into his pocket and twisting off the metal cap of the flask. “I’m going to help you, okay? We need to clean these cuts on your back, but it’s…” His voice cut off with an involuntary swallow. “It’s going to hurt.”

Elijah, who was more or less seeming to come to a state of awareness, managed a slight nod. He had turned his face downward so that his forehead was pressed into the dirt, his hair hanging down to cover his face. Grayson hesitated.

“Can you look at me?” he asked, not sure if he was making the right call, but unwilling to proceed without Elijah’s fully informed consent.

When he did finally turn his face toward Grayson for the first time since his return to the cell, one cheek pressed firmly into the dirt, it nearly shattered him. His lip was split in two places, blood still pouring from the one on the bottom, mixed with clumps of dirt and the tiny, sharp rocks that dug into his knees below them. His right eye, mostly obscured by the ground, was shadowed in deep bruises and nearly swollen shut. What floored him, though, was the hollowness in the gaze that struggled to meet his own. The lifelessness behind the deep brown eyes that had caught his attention all the way back at the airport in the States.

How could they do this to you?

Grayson, with his hands trembling harder than before, raised the flask into Elijah’s line of sight. The whiff of alcohol he got from several inches away was potent and nauseating. “They gave me alcohol to clean your back,” he explained, trying and probably failing to keep his voice level. “They gave me water, too. I’m gonna… I’m just gonna pour this over you first, and it’s.” Deep breaths “It’s gonna suck, okay, but I’ll pour the water after, and maybe it won’t hurt so bad, then.”

He was lying, or at the very least exaggerating about any kind of relief the water would offer, but Elijah probably knew that already. He was smart. He looked up at Grayson, his non-swollen eye fluttering slightly against the firelight overhead, and gave a barely perceptible nod. “Okay,” he whispered.

Grayson breathed out. “Okay.”

He dragged the water bucket closer, ready to have it on hand, and Elijah turned his head back to center, grinding his forehead into the dirt in preparation. It was for the best, probably. Grayson wasn’t sure how he was meant to inflict this kind of pain while he looked him in the eye.

“Wait,” Grayson said, lowering the flask to the ground as he had a realization.

His fingers went to the buckle of his belt, fumbling with the metal clasp even more than he had earlier. When he finally got it free, he slipped it through the loops on his pants, almost missing the physical recoil from Elijah. When he looked back down at him, he was crying into the dirt. Grayson choked back his own tears, along with the bile that has risen at the implication of Elijah’s fear.

“Hey, look,” Grayson said, winding his belt into the tightest bundle he could manage. Elijah turned his head again, peeking up at him from beneath a thick layer of black hair. “I’m going to give you this to bite down on. It might… it might help.”

To his relief, Elijah reached out and took the belt from his hand, and Grayson watched as he shoved it between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make the leather creak. His eyes slipped shut, a loose tear glittering at the end of his long eyelashes, before he reset his head against the ground.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Grayson whispered, a promise to both of them that he would do everything in his power to keep. A small hope that might be enough to get them through the next few minutes.

The worst thing he could do for him was sit here and drag this process out with his own fear, so Grayson didn’t allow himself the luxury of time. Without thinking, he picked up the metal flask and, against every instinct in his body, doused Elijah’s back in the clear liquid. There was a moment of stillness in which Grayson swore he could hear a physical sizzle, like oil dropped on a hot pan. And then Elijah screamed.

And screamed.

His back arched against the pain, and then when that only seemed to agitate the wounds further, his body bucked the other way, hips coming up off the ground, knees and feet scrambling for purchase against loose dirt. Grayson forced himself to keep pouring until every drop was gone, even if he was working through a hazy film of tears that he couldn’t fight back.

“It’s almost over,” he heard himself whispering alongside the gut wrenching screams, knowing full well Elijah wouldn’t hear a word he said. “You’re doing great.”

When the last drop had emptied from the container, Grayson chucked it across the room with more force than necessary, feeling unsatisfied as it bounced off the stone and skidded through the dirt. It landed inches away from the discarded scrap of shirt that Grayson had wrapped around himself earlier, and he had an idea.

Working as quickly as possible, Grayson shuffled across the small room on his knees, yanking the material from its spot in the corner and bringing it back to Elijah’s side. He took one side in his fists and another between his teeth and tore. He repeated the process until he had created several small rags he could use to help clean him up, then set the larger scrap aside so he could use it later to help keep him warm.

Elijah’s rabid screams had faded to gasping sobs by the time he was ready for the next step.

“I’m going to pour the water over your back, now,” he said. He dipped his fingers inside the bucket, winced, then added, “It’s cold.”

Much to Grayson’s amazement, Elijah still found it somewhere in himself to nod his consent. He was endlessly grateful for the small gesture.

The cold water wasn’t quite as bad as the alcohol had been, but Grayson found no less misery in listening to his cries of agony. Some dark part of his brain felt the need to keep reminding him that this was almost definitely not the worst ordeal Elijah had suffered through today.

In the end, he made sure to save the bottom half of the water supply for later. Who knew when they were ever planning to bring them something to drink, or when they would next have to repeat another procedure like this one. The idea shot through Grayson’s core like a hot bullet.

He didn’t try to evoke any kind of response from Elijah as he went about methodically cleaning his back with the small rags he had made. He didn’t ask any questions, except to seek permission, as he gently washed the dried blood from the inside of his thighs. Grayson just let Elijah quietly cry his way through it, and since he kept his face hidden in the dirt, Grayson could do the same.

“You should try to drink a little,” Grayson said when it was all over, his own voice hoarse from crying. A shiver ran down Elijah’s back as he tried to force his muscles into submission, eventually succeeding in turning his tear-stained face to Grayson. He pulled the makeshift bite-guard out of his mouth, a string of blood and saliva following it to the ground. He nodded.

Grayson helped him to his knees, offering his joined arms as support for him to pull himself up. He was shaking and panting by the time he got there, brows furrowed against what had to be a whole symphony of agony going on inside his body and out. Grayson didn’t quite want to think about the specifics.

The bucket was too big to try and tilt up to his lips without drowning him, and the memory of the guard’s cryptic words when he handed him the flask were still fresh in his mind, making him think, for some reason or another, Elijah might not relish the idea of drinking out of it. Their hands would have to do. He let Elijah go first, trying not to watch as he struggled to keep his trembling palms together long enough to cup the water into his mouth. He drank thirstily, but most of it ended up dribbling down his chin and neck, down his bare chest and mingling with the dirt and sweat and stray streaks of blood that were littered there.

Elijah curled forward when he’d had enough, or perhaps when it had simply become too painful to remain upright. He curled his arms tightly over his stomach in a protective gesture and let his body fall to the side, first shifting onto his hip with a wince of pain, and then lying down on his side. He faced the wall and brought his knees up as far as he could get them, even though Grayson was sure the position tugged at his fresh injuries in all the wrong ways.

“I’m going to cover you up,” Grayson whispered, unwinding the larger scrap of shirt fabric he’d set aside earlier. He shook off as much dirt as he could draping the cleaner of the two sides over Elijah’s arm and back. “I’m sorry I don’t have more.” Absently, Grayson made a mental note to give Elijah his pants when he was able to move again.

He watched over him silently for several endless minutes, waiting for the telltale sound of leveled-out breathing, a snore maybe, any sign that sleep had claimed him. God, how he prayed for sleep to claim him. To offer him some temporary solace away from this place.

Eventually, as the adrenaline crash set in from the events of the last hour, Grayson settled in behind Elijah on the ground near the wall, positioning his body between Elijah and the door. He made sure to give at least a foot of space between them and laid his head to rest against his folded arm. The ache to reach out and comfort him still burned in his chest, but he resisted the urge once again. Instead, he kept his tired eyes trained on the rise and fall of the thin, white “blanket” draped over Elijah’s ribs.

“We’re going to get out of here,” he repeated his vow from earlier, feeling less certain of the words than ever. But he was no less determined to make them true.

A beam of sunlight cast across the stone was the last thing he saw before his eyes slipped shut; the rising of the sun outside the singular window. Morning had come.

#Fifty-Eight Days: Elijah & Grayson #whump #whump writing #captivity #cw: implied noncon #Untitled Captivity Story: Elijah & Grayson #cw: whipping #cw: blood

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jkbabiey · 2 years

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heya, i'd love to join your tarot game! my name is Shannon, pronouns are she/her, i'm a cancer sun and moon and gemini venus, a word i'd use to define myself is 'bubbly' and my favourite song at the moment is Tayc - Sans Effet. thanks so much! <3

Hi Shannon!! I'm so glad you joined the game!! Before anything, I'd like to mention that there will be some sexual innuendos in your reading. I hope you like the reading!!

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞:

Appearance

Your cards: The Lovers, Temperance, King of Wands, The Hierophant, Queen of Wands, The Star, The High Priestess

Quite handsome. This person is going to be your type on paper, at least physically. They are exactly what you idealize and dream about in a S/O. They may have slightly longer hair than what you are used to. Black hair or just a very very dark brown. Strong and very defined features. I'm getting dark-toned skin vibes. Prominent chest. May have muscular pecs or bigger boobs if we're talking about a woman. May have a distinguished mole on their body, or any mark of some sort on their skin (a scar, freckles...). Facial hair may also be a thing. This is someone who has a lot of hair. Like, body hair, facial hair - just, a lot of hair. Kind gaze. The way they look at people is very soft. Or they have very soft-looking eyes. Very tall or just taller than other people.

Personality

Your cards: Temperance (rev), King of Wands, The Hierophant, Ace of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, Page of Cups (rev)

Kind of a bossy person. They like things to be done their way or in no way. But, on the bright side, they are not someone who's pushy just because - they are actually very wise and they have a very mature way of thinking. They know that whenever there's something to be done, it's supposed to be done perfectly. Ad the perfect way to do it is by the way they want it done. Stubborn but with a cause. This leads me to another characteristic about your soulmate. They are perfectionists. If they do something, it has to be done perfectly - 'do it well or don't it at all'. They have a lot of stamina and energy and they never run out of things to do and stuff to get them busy. They could also have a lot of stamina in regards to sex, which is nice ehehe. On the other side, they can be a bit selfish and not think about other people a lot. Also, they can be reckless sometimes, but I think that this has more to do with their emotions than anything else. They are reckless in the way they deal with their emotions. Fire sign energy.

Career

Your cards: King of Wands, Ace of Swords

OOF. Powerful - that's all I'm saying. They may be a businessman. A leader or a mentor of some sort. I'm not really getting anything else. That's all the cards are telling me.

Communication Style

Your cards: King of Wands, Ace of Swords, The Fool

Your person may talk a lot about their ambitions and about their life goals and dreams. They do talk a lot. May have a deep, quite nasal, voice. You may find it hot when they are giving orders (???) -idk why that came along, but I'm just gonna put it out there. They are really great at giving motivational speeches. They may talk a lot with their hands too. Their faces are a bit expressionless tho. Like, they may be very angry and still keep a straight face. Or maybe, they may be very sad but still manage to keep a straight face.

Love Language

Your cards: The Tower, The Lovers

PHYSICAL TOUCH. As I had said before in the reading, your soulmate is quite reckless when it comes to their emotions, they can't really control themselves from acting when it comes to their loved ones. If they want to hold your hand, they will, regardless of the place you're at or what circumstances it is, they will touch you anywhere whenever they feel like it. Obviously, with your consent, always. Also, when I mentioned they may have high sexual stamina, it could also mean that sex is one of their main ways to show love. And with the tower here, I'm guessing that this person's touch is absolutely earth-shattering if you know what I mean.

#1000 followers game

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randomfandominserts · 4 years

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Zuko x Reader - Home

Request: Hi! I wonder if you take requests. If that's the case would you maybe write something with Zuko please? Maybe Reader is really soft and friendly despite his efforts to push her away and gives him the feeling that hes enough, and that theres no need to return to his father. And he can't help but grow fond of her and get soft and maybe its the first time he lets her hug him and she kisses him on the cheek and he blushes?

Word Count: 4619

Note: So this is way longer and angsty-er than I was expecting it to be. It’s the first time I’ve written in a while so I’m super rusty but I hope you enjoy!

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It was never easy to be a Fire Nation run-away, a refugee with no way to express the loss you’ve had to face for fear of being banished from your new home. You were the child of a Fire Nation nobleman, a child who had been locked away from the world for years due to your lack of bending and possession of curiosity and empathy. Though you were usually soft-spoken and hesitant to disobey authority, you still made an effort to let those around you know you were against the Fire Lord and the war he supported.

Your blatant disrespect for the Fire Lord’s rule at royal events led to your separation from the noble world, and eventually the entire world. Fire Lord Ozai was clear, very clear, that had you continued to let your presence disrupt his events, you would face a fate worse than death and your parents would be punished for raising such a disrespectful child. So you were locked away, with no one to see but your tutors and the parents who desperately tried to pass on their vicious world views. No amount of force or manipulation could influence you to think anything but poor thoughts of the Fire Nation. The point came where they wanted nothing more than to rid themselves of their wretched child, and they offered to have you sent to the Fire Lord’s prison on charges of treason.

And so you left.

You ventured into the world, escaping in the night with a satchel full of stolen coins and a month’s worth of bread. You walked and walked, then hid away on a ship to travel to the Earth Kingdom, then continued to walk, then bought an ostrich horse and traveled more. Eventually, after months of travel, you made your way into Ba Sing Se as a refugee, beginning your new life.

Of course, life went on like this for months, until one day you ventured into your neighborhood’s tea shop and came face-to-face with two familiar men. Two very familiar members of the Fire Nation’s royal family.

It took everything in you not to scream out in surprise. Were they here to take you back? Punish you for escaping your fate? Execute you for treason? How had they even gotten into Ba Sing Se? But Iroh quickly pulled you aside, the gentle smile on his kind face calming your nerves immediately. “(Y/N),” he said, “It is very good to see you again.” You decided that a reunion with a friendly face was just what you needed, so you invited the pair over for dinner to learn more about what had happened.

You learned of their journey to find the Avatar, and you learned of Azula’s betrayal and their flee to the Earth Kingdom capital. Iroh was welcoming of having you in his life. He was always a kind man during court events, escorting you out and giving you tea when you angered his brother. Zuko, on the other hand, was more apprehensive about having you around. He had heard your words in the past defaming his father and protesting the war. He was unsure that you would keep their secret.

But you were much too kind to rat out two poor souls looking to move on with their lives. Besides, ratting them out only gave them reason to throw you under the bus as well. It was much better to simply throw caution to the wind and stick together. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, and anyone in-between stays close as well, you supposed.

With the help of the former royals, you were able to buy a much better place for the three of you. It was not fancy or even nice, but it was better than before and had two bedrooms, one for you and one for your housemates, and a living area rather than simply one large room.

Life was good. You and Iroh grew closer, much to Zuko’s dismay. He still distrusted you and was hesitant to let himself get close to you for fear of betrayal. You tried, though. Every evening when you both arrived home from work you greeted him with a smile, and sometimes a small gift from the shop you worked at. He was never blatantly rude, always mumbling a quick greeting or thank you, but would always shuffle into his room without a second word. You were determined to get on his good side, but he never seemed to show himself to you long enough to break the surface.

Slowly but surely, you and Iroh began to help Zuko warm to the idea of being your friend. Every day he would say a couple more words, stay out a little later before he shuffled to his room for the night. His (slight) openness warmed your heart, and you found yourself growing fond of the boy.

One night, Iroh was out late with some men he played Pai Sho with. That meant you were in charge of feeding yourself and Zuko for the night. You cooked up an old recipe you had learned years ago and placed the platters in front of the both of you.

“I hope you like it,” you started, watching as Zuko took a small spoonful into his mouth. “I haven’t cooked in ages.”

“Thank you,” Zuko replied, swirling the food in his bowl. “It’s good.”

“It’s an old recipe that my grandmother taught me.” Zuko took another mouthful of food, quietly thinking over the words you said.

“You must miss her,” he finally said. It was a statement rather than a question, and though he was unsure he painted it as though he was certain of himself.

“I couldn’t,” you countered, placing your own bite on your tongue. There was silence as Zuko watched you swallow your food, waiting for you to continue. “The things that my family has done, what would make me miss such corruption and misery?” You found yourself staring down at your bowl, the steam hitting your face in a comforting puff of heat. “It’s much like your father. You don’t miss him.” Your words shadowed his, an unsure statement once again presented as confident truth.

Zuko didn’t reply, instead opting to sip his water and stare past your head. You figured that meant the conversation had ended, so you sighed and continued to eat your food in silence. Zuko’s sharp breathing and the clattering of spoons against bowls were the only noises present until Iroh burst in through the door, cheerfully greeting you both. He paused once he sensed the tense atmosphere and settled at the table with you both.

“What are you eating? It looks delicious,” he said, causing you to smile.

“I’ll grab you a bowl,” you said, rising from the table quickly. Once you cleaned your bowl and filled one for Iroh, you headed back to the table. “It’s an old Fire Nation recipe. I think you’ll like it,” you told Iroh as you placed his food in front of him. Zuko continued to avoid your gaze, and you figured it was time to go. “I think I’ll head to bed now. Goodnight.” With that, you were off.

You hadn’t been able to sleep. You were unsure of what time it was, but the black sky outside your window told you it wasn’t yet nearing the morning. With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of bed and off to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea to soothe you to sleep.

To your surprise, the kitchen wasn’t empty when you arrived. Zuko sat at the table, a cup of tea sitting on the table in front of him. He twirled the contents of the cup with a single heated finger, causing the contents to boil and bubble. As you shut your door, he swung around to meet your eyes with a questioning look. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said simply as you took the seat across from him. He nodded before standing to grab a second cup from the cupboard.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, lifting the pot to begin his pour. “Don’t worry, my uncle made it before he went to sleep.” You nodded, taking the warm cup from his hands and sipping it. You both sat in silence for a moment, daring the other to break it. You decided to take the bait and set your cup down with a gentle thud.

“I apologize for what I said earlier,” you started, staring down at your mug. The lightly-colored liquid glistened in the light of the lone lantern Zuko had lit, and you couldn’t help but fasten your attention to the shimmering reflection rather than the grumpy prince. “I meant nothing by implying you didn’t miss your father. I only assumed-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off suddenly, his scratchy voice holding a sharp tone. “I don’t miss him. You’re right.” Though he tried to hide it, he always tried to hide it, you could hear the pain in his voice. You looked up and met his amber eyes, searching for answers.

“You must miss something.” There was something about the way he worded his sentence, something about the way he avoided looking directly at you. You could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, so you pushed.

“I suppose I do.” He was curt, unwilling to give you the answer you desired, so you changed the subject before the tense silence you were both so accustomed to could swallow you whole.

“It’s beginning to feel like a home here, isn’t it?” You tried to give him a small smile, evoke a little emotion from the boy, but he stared blankly as you spoke. “The plants I bought from the shop bring a little light into this place.”

“This isn’t a home.” Zuko stood abruptly, shaking the table as he pushed away. Drops of tea spilled over the top of your cup, splashing onto the wood of the table. “This isn’t my home.” He stormed out of the house, leaving no trace except his boiling cup of tea and your spilled one. You sighed before rising to clean up.

You traveled around the table to grab Zuko’s half-filled drink, only to immediately drop it at the feeling of the burning hot cup. You cursed as the hot contents spilled onto your bare feet and the cup shattered on the floor. At the sound of this commotion, Iroh slid open his door and peeked into the kitchen.

“Zuko is gone. Is everything alright?” You gave no answer, instead sitting on the floor to look at your burnt feet and clean up the broken cup. Iroh stepped out into the kitchen to examine the situation, sighing when he saw your red feet and turning back to his room. He returned with a towel, a broom, and some bandages for your feet, and helped lift you to a seat to bandage yourself while he cleaned the spilled tea. You slowly wrapped your burns, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Iroh knew how to break the silence. “Did you fight?” he questioned. You shook your head.

“We were having a discussion.”

“A discussion.” Iroh’s hearty laugh filled the atmosphere, instantly bringing you comfort. “My nephew hardly knows how to have a discussion.” You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“I hadn’t meant to offend him.” You finished wrapping your feet and stood, testing to make sure the bandages would stay. “We spoke of his father, and he said he didn’t miss him, but he still sounded sad.” You stumbled to the flower pot which housed the small flowering bush you had brought home. It made the place feel so lovely, and it was such a beautiful addition to the dreary interior of your poor home. You sighed and brushed a finger over its leaves. “I spoke of home, this home. But this isn’t his home.”

“Come, sit.” Iroh walked over and helped you to sit in a chair at the table. He sat across from you and slid a cup across the table. “I figure you could use some fresh tea,” he said with a smile. You took a sip and smiled, silently thanking him for the warmth and comfort housed in the cup.

The silence was once again broken by Iroh’s kind voice. “My nephew has been through many things. It has been a long while since he has had a place to call home.”

“Of course. I never meant to invalidate him in any way.” You hadn’t meant to hurt or offend Zuko. It felt as though Ba Sing Se was becoming a home, a true home, for both you and him. “I only thought that we finally had something good, all of us. A home.”

“And that we do.” Iroh took a sip of his own tea and let out a sigh. “But this is not the home my nephew wants. He desires a home with his family.”

“You’re his family. Is this not enough for him?” You felt yourself getting worked up, and your tea threatened to once again spill over the edge of the cup that rested in your shaky hands. “How can he desire to go home to people who have hurt him?”

“Family is a strange thing, (Y/N). As is desire.”

“His father scarred him. Banished him. What more proof does he need that there is no home where that man is?” Once again, drops of tea splashed onto the wood in front of you. Quickly, you set the tea down and rose from your chair. “Thank you for the tea. I think I’ll be heading to bed.” Iroh simply sipped his tea and nodded.

“Remember, it takes courage to stand fast in your beliefs. All are not as strong as you, (Y/N). All are not so certain.” You nodded your head before slipping away to your room. As you laid in bed, Iroh’s words echoed in your ears. Zuko desperately wanted a home with his family. He wanted acceptance, despite anything that may have happened to him. It broke your heart knowing that he wanted nothing more than his father’s love, even when his father cared so little of him.

“Zuko!” You called out to the taller boy, waving him outside. He was working, but the shop wasn’t busy and it seemed they had little to do. It had been a couple of days since your tense chat, and though you both seemed to be back to normal you had yet to discuss what had happened. It was constantly on your mind, but you felt it was better to keep the peace than put Zuko in an uncomfortable position to discuss family with an outsider. “I’m about to head to lunch. Would you like to join me?”

He nodded in your direction, let Iroh know where he was off to, and stripped off his apron. “Where are we eating?” he asked as you walked down the stone streets. You held up a basket of food, a small smile on your face.

“I thought we could picnic, if that’s alright?” Zuko once again nodded, and you two set off to find a nice spot to sit and eat. Your walk was silent, the only sound present being the beating of your feet against the stone path, but it was strangely comforting. Eventually, you came across an empty plaza and settled down by the fountain. As you worked to pull out the food you prepared, Zuko strolled around the plaza.

“Thank you for this,” he said when you finished, and plopped down next to you. “You don’t need to always cook for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” you insisted, shoving some food in his hands. “Here, try this. You like spicy food, right?” With that, the two of you began your quiet meal. Zuko was, as usual, not very talkative, but you tried to fill the empty space with jokes and laughter. You even managed to get a small smile out of the dark-haired boy.

All too soon, lunch was over and the two of you had to get back to your respective jobs. As you journeyed back through the streets, a sheet of paper floated down just in front of you both. Zuko reached out to pluck it from the air, eyeing it carefully. His eyes seemed to widen as he read the sheet. “What is it?” you asked, peering over to try and catch a glimpse. The sheet was quickly removed from your line of sight with a grumbled response telling you it was nothing, don’t worry about it. Unconvinced, you reached over and ripped the sheet from his hands, giving it a quick once over.

“A… flying bison?” You were confused, why did a missing pet have Zuko in such a mood? You continued scanning the sheet until you reached the bottom, where it listed who to contact if the bison were found. “Oh.” You held the crumpled sheet back out to Zuko, and he was quick to snatch it from your hands. You felt a lump growing in your throat, unsure of what to say to the boy who stood beside you. The Avatar was in Ba Sing Se, and it seemed Zuko was ready to run after him and return back to his old life immediately.

“I have to go,” he said, but you reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him from entering the shop. At this moment words seemed to fail you, and you just stared up at him, sadness in your eyes. He avoided your gaze. He looked anywhere but at your accusing stare, anywhere but the disappointment your eyes held. Slowly, you loosened your grip on his wrist, and his arm dropped back to his side. “Thank you for lunch.”

Later, you sat in your apartment helping Iroh brainstorm names for his new tea shop while you cooked dinner. Iroh had gotten the offer to have his own shop and a nicer apartment today, and upon hearing the news you decided to celebrate. Zuko stormed in while you were tossing around silly names, the crumpled flyer held tight in his hand.

“The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se,” he said, holding the paper out to Iroh. You tensed upon hearing the words, knowing what conversation was to follow. “He’s lost his bison.”

Iroh was as displeased as you, and voiced his concerns to Zuko. The boy stormed off, leaving you and Iroh frozen in the kitchen. You softly stirred the food while Iroh continued to spout silly name ideas for the new shop.

That night, you were staring at the ceiling when you heard a noise from the front, followed by a quiet curse. You rolled out of bed and exited your room, only to find Zuko in the living area, shoes on and dual swords by his side. “Where are you going?” you questioned, causing the boy to jump.

“Out,” he replied simply as he dug through a box. What was he was searching for? You crossed the room to take the spot beside him and leaned over the box for a peak. It was full of random keepsakes, things you’d never seen before. Probably a box that was purposefully hidden away, full of things Zuko wanted no one else to see.

“Out,” you repeated, a hint of resignation in your voice. You knew exactly what that meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw Zuko pull a blue mask from the depths of his box. “You’re going after the bison, aren’t you?”

“What do you think, (Y/N)?” He stood up, tucking the mask into his waistband. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you said gently. He shook his head at the thought and moved to turn away, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged, forcing him to turn back to you. “Zuko, this isn’t your responsibility anymore. You’re free. You’re finally free to be who you want, and yet you still choose this path of pain.” You tried to look to him, but he was looking away from you, hiding any emotion that he might be showing on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he tried to say, but you scoffed at the thought.

“No, you don’t get it, Zuko!” Rare as it was, you felt yourself losing your grip. He couldn’t see how much this was hurting him, or hurting his uncle, or hurting you. He couldn’t see that he had options now that he resided in Ba Sing Se. He couldn’t see the home that you and Iroh had built up for him. “You don’t understand how much you have. We have a home, Zuko, we have our little family. Iroh is happy! He’s getting his own tea shop. You’ll be able to enjoy your life, and yet you still want to do everything you can to make your father proud and go back to that wretched palace.”

You were so frustrated and tears threatened to spill, but Zuko still refused to even glance in your direction. He tried to tug free of your grip, but you still held on tight. “Let go,” he said, his voice firm. You hesitated before complying, but he didn’t move immediately.

“Can you at least look at me?” Your voice trembled. You didn’t have much left in you. The least he could do was look in your eyes while you pleaded with him to stay. It took a moment before he turned his head back towards you. His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed him. Though you couldn’t decipher it, there was something hidden behind his gaze. Sadness, anger, guilt? You couldn’t tell. “You don’t have to go. Stay here. Be happy with us. Don’t do this, please.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” You tried to reach out to him, to grab his arm once again and tug him closer, but he stepped just out of your reach. “Zuko, there’s nothing left for you there. You may steal the bison or capture the Avatar, but then what? You return home to a family that doesn’t care for you as much as we do. They don’t love you at all.” He was turning away from you again, and you leapt forward to latch onto him. “Look at me. Please, just look at me and tell me honestly that you’ll be happier with your father than with us.” He couldn’t, and you knew he couldn’t. You tried holding his attention, but he tugged his arm away without a word and averted his eyes.

“I’m going. Don’t follow me.” Your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Zuko tucked his swords into their holder and left, not even sparing you a second glance. You felt frozen in time as quiet tears streaked down your face.

After what felt like hours (but was likely only minutes), you shuffled to the back room and knocked on a door. It opened to reveal a sleepy-looking Iroh, but he immediately woke when he saw the state you were in. “Zuko’s gone.”

You barely slept that night, and you slept even less when Zuko came back with a fever. You stayed by his side, making sure he always had a cool rag on his head and some water nearby to drink. Iroh insisted you take turns watching over the prince, but you couldn’t help but worry.

Iroh had told you what happened that night, and you were incredibly proud of Zuko. You knew it must have been hard for him to realize his path, but you were glad that this was the path that he had chosen. You wanted more than anything for him to have a chance at happiness alongside you and his uncle.

It was late at night when Zuko finally recovered from his feverish state. You were reading a book beside him and barely noticed he had risen when he decided to speak. “How long have I been sick?” You glanced over the top of your book to see the prince sitting up on the floor. He looked much better, albeit still a bit weak from the cold. You could hardly contain the smile that spread onto your face.

“It’s only been a couple of days. Are you hungry?” You quickly rose from your seat beside him, but he reached out to you as you walked away.

“Wait,” he requested. You slowed to a stop and returned to his side. “I wanted to thank you for what you said.” The complex mix of emotions you had seen in his eyes the night he left was now spread across his face. Sadness, anger, guilt, and now embarrassment? You couldn’t tell, but at least now he wasn’t hiding it. “You helped me realize that I do have a choice. I can be happy, I just need to choose it.”

The smile on your face grew wider. “And you’re choosing us?”

“I’ve realized you and my uncle are my real family.” You couldn’t contain your joy as you reached out to hug Zuko. He hadn’t noticed and was moving to get up, so you quickly stopped and regained your composure. You stood too, hoping the boy hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll go get Iroh. I’m sure he’s excited to see you.”

It was the first morning in your new apartment in the Upper Ring. You could smell Iroh cooking in the large kitchen, but you were distracted by the sight of Zuko watering the plants you had brought from your old apartment. He had gotten up much earlier than you, which didn’t usually happen, so it was a welcoming sight to see him glowing in the morning sun with your plants.

“I didn’t think you liked those,” you said, causing him to jump. Once he saw it was you, he shook his head as he returned his attention to the plants.

“They’ve grown on me,” he replied. You smiled and moved to his side, watching as he cared for the bush. He seemed so happy now, his usual scowl replaced with the hint of a smile and shining eyes. You wished you could watch the scene play out forever, but he broke the moment when he set the watering can down and turned to you. “You were right. They do make it feel like home.” He gave you a small smile, and your heart melted.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He was taken by surprise and stood frozen for a moment, before gently wrapping his around you. “I’m so glad you stayed,” you said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.” You pulled away to smile up at him and quickly rose on your toes to peck his cheek. He immediately grew red at the kiss.

“I- uh, well, I’m glad I stayed too,” he stammered, turning his face away from you. Of course, Iroh chose that moment to enter the room.

“Nephew, your face is as red as a tomato,” he said with a chuckle. “Has your fever returned?”

“Of course not,” Zuko countered, before picking up the watering can and shuffling quickly out of the room to avoid any more conversation. With a knowing look on his face, Iroh shot you a wink and then let you know breakfast was ready. He exited, leaving you alone in the room.

You reached out to gently stroke the leaves of the bush in front of you. You were all finally home. Only good things could be in store for your new-found family. With a small smile plastered on, you skipped off to the kitchen to enjoy the first breakfast of your new, happy life.

#zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko imagine #Zuko #atla #avatar imagine #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar #reader insert #prince zuko x reader #randomfandominsert

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dee--eer · 3 years

Note

also! see this as your free pass to talk about your favorite non-DCMK ship for the ask game! (my instincts tell me it's gonna be Klance I'm curious to see if I'm right xD)

IT'S DEFINITELY KLANCE, YEP. I didn’t talk much about them anymore but boy do they still have me in a chokehold. These boys own my soul tbh

I uh. Write much much more than I intended to lmao so, the rest goes under the cut!

Shipping them is actually kinda unexpected, you see, because while it's true that I started vld because one of my favorite writer start writing about them and I got curious, I actually went through the first 2 seasons completely not understanding where the ship is coming from lmao. I was more of a Shallura and Shatt shipper at that point, and I saw Klance as more of a friendly-rival characters sorts but probably won't go toward romantic route, kind of like Heishin for me. I am, however, already fell in love with Keith from the very start (this bit here is very important, alright?).

And then season 3 rolls around and I..... just fell headfirst into the Klance hell. Specifically that moment in front of Black when Lance goes to comfort Keith. I was just... so enamored by this moment, because see, up to that point Keith has been really insufferable, which is absolutely justified, but so is his teammates disdain toward him. And yet, out of all 5 people present there the one who goes up and comfort him is Lance. The rival. The boy who loudly complain whenever Keith as much as glance toward him. Like, they could've easily made Coran do that, with him being the oldest and (supposedly) the wisest among all of them. He did that with Lance, after all. Or Allura, maybe, because she's technically the leader of the pack and it make sense for her to try and comfort her subordinate. And yet, it was Lance who goes up and stand beside him.

And then the next eps when he just blindly goes after Lotor and literally endangering his teammates? Even I, the self-proclaimed Keith #1 fan, got a bit annoyed and feeling a bit like I want to kick some sense into him. And yet Lance is still the only one who's faithfully flying beside him, reigning him back when he's literally leaving his teammate behind, comforting him again and doesn't even try to antagonize him when he admits he went too farーlike bro. That "Keith, don't do this!" scene still haunts my dream, it was so good.

Those moment really cements how good Lance is for Keith, and that's ultimately what made me ship them in the first place. You see, one of my rule in shipping is that I will ship whoever made my favorite character happy. Like, this is kinda why I'm still a Naruhina shipper at heart because I love Hinata to death and I want her to have the man of her dream, despite how much I agree that Narusasu or even Narusaku is a league above them in term of a good couple. Like, I mostly just want to see my favorite character being happy, y'know? So yep. Those s3 moment show me how good Lance is to Keith, and that's how I sold my soul to the devil :'D

One other thing that really sent me is this specific characters trait of Keith and Lance. Keith, as an orphan who was left to fend off for himself for most of his childhood, ends up having too many love left to give. And Lance, the boy who have a bazillions family member, ends up already giving too many love in his life. And well, Keith will have more than enough love to shower Lance. Soulmate behavior, don't you think? 😆

It really doesn't help (or it does?) that I've always love an enemy/rival-to-lover trope since I know what shipping is. So in a way, I love Klance because I love Kaishin, ahah 🙈

I might've gotten too invested in answering this ajzjzkzk I'm so sorry it got a bit long, but I can't help itttt even after all these years they're still so precious to meeee ❤💙❤💙

#ask game #watch me spewing an essay about them for one ask game like damn #they really do own my soul pfftt #klance

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Honey Haze

*Yeets one more rarepair onto the pile*

She fears what she craves and she craves what she fears. Or maybe she fears losing what she craves even though she doesn’t have it yet. Maybe she is afraid to have it because she is afraid to be afraid of losing it.

Regina smiles at her reflection in the mirror.

It is forced.

It doesn’t look right on her face. Not since it has been so long since she’d done it. She thinks that she doesn’t remember how to smile. She isn’t sure if she had ever actually smiled before. She is almost certain that there had always been a sadness there, just beneath the surface and waiting to break through whenever Cora roused it.

Sometimes when she looks in the mirror she can’t separate herself from the woman. Sometimes when she looks in the mirror they are one and the same. Sometimes when she looks at Henry she sees herself through his eyes. And in his eyes she had seen the same fear and mistrust that she had afforded to her own mother.

Even if that look has long since vanished. Vanished to be replaced by affection and love.

Sometimes it doesn’t feel real; to be cherished. To be seen as a hero. As anything but a blight on this town.

Sometimes she is certain that it is too good to be true; to have friends. A family. To have happiness.

And sometimes this sense of paranoid sense of falsehood crushes her. It sweeps her up and drags her under, wearing away at her until she is curled up on the loveseat of her office or on the floor weeping silently to herself.

She has learned to tell when it is coming on. There is a disconnect, a fuzziness that comes between her mind and her body. It is hazy at first. It is as simple as looking in the mirror and not being able to fully feel the smile on her face, even when she knows that she is happy. Truly, she is. People have been kind to her today, extraordinary so.

“Happy birthday, Regina!” Emma slings an arm around her shoulder.

Regina, to the best of her ability, pushes her way through the fog in her head. “Thank you, Emma. You and Henry didn’t eat all of my cake, did you?”

“Not yet, geez, give us some time!”

Regina rolls her eyes. “I swear, Swan, if Henry complains about a stomach ache on the ride home…”

“The Evil Queen is going to make her big comeback?” Emma quirks a brow. “Don’t worry, he’s been telling me to slow down.” She laughs. “Aren’t you going to have any of your own cake.”

She shrugs. “The cake is for everyone else, not myself. You know that I’m not one for sweets.” She follows Emma to the booth that Mary and David are already seated at. The disorientation hits her with a vengeance that her queen self would envy. There is a nervous queasiness building in her belly, a sense of discomfort that she can neither place nor shake.

She bites the inside of her cheek.

“Right, mom!?” Henry declares.

“Uh...yes...right Henry.” She hopes that she hadn’t just agreed with something particularly preposterous. Though the cackles of Emma suggest that she very much has. Much of the night passes in a daze. She finds herself falling in and out of alertness. She is absent and present to varying degrees. Mostly her mind is elsewhere as she opens her presents.

There are boxes from Mary and David, Henry and Emma, from the dwarves and Ruby. There is one from Gold. And there are cards. Cards that make her heart swell as she reads them. She doesn’t think that it surprises anyone to see her pay the cards more attention than any of the gifts attached.

The necklaces and new small appliances are nice. They are practical and useful. She enjoys the magical trinkets that Gold and Mother Superior have crafted for her. But they aren’t as personal. Not like the cards.

The cards that contain inside jokes and brief recants of precious memories. Words of encouragement and subtle reminders that she is a good woman. A loved woman.

They are so kind.

And she is terrified.

Terrified because it can all shatter at any moment. Can shatter as though this is just another curse to be broken.

She squeezes Henry as tightly as she can as they walk to her car.

“Happy birthday!” Ruby calls again, “thanks for inviting all of us.”

“Happy shoving Grumpy’s face into what was left of the cake is one for the scrapbooks.” Sneezy notes in passing.

Regina can’t help but laugh.

She also can’t help but let a single tear slip down her cheek.

She wipes it away before Henry sees it.

.oOo.

Dr. Hopper tells her that it is called cherophobia. That, that is what evokes such a sense of dread as soon as a smile reaches her face, why her stomach sinks when a laugh escapes her throat.

“You’re afraid, Regina.”

She knows. She thinks that she always has. She certainly knows that she isn’t normal. That she is a broken woman. A sad woman, at her very core, even when she is happy on a superficial level. “I should be happy.”

“You can’t be happy when you’re afraid to be happy.”

And water is wet and fire is hot. Except for the days when things are distorted and fire feels, to her, quite chilly. Sometimes she needs to hear the obvious state bluntly and out loud.

“But I should be. I have Henry, I have magic, I have my mansion. People...they…” she manages a very slight smile. “They call me Regina now. They invite me to dinners and weddings and…” And it still feels too good to be true even years down the road. “Why does it feel like it’s all going to come apart?”

“Are you asking me as a friend or a therapist?”

“I...both?” She furrows her brows.

“As a therapist, I’d say that it's because you’ve had a traumatic childhood. You’ve had experiences where everything seemed to be going right only to have the rug pulled from beneath your feet, sometimes by people who you thought were holding you steady. And so you’ve learned not to get too happy. You’ve learned that being happy is dangerous and that it…”

“Is a wide open door for tragedy.” She finishes.

He nods.

“And as a friend?”

“I’d tell you that I’ve seen a woman who has been hurt over and over again and doesn’t know what to do when she isn’t hurting.”

“As a friend you still sound like a therapist, Archie.” She stares at her palms.

He rubs the back of his head. “I suppose that I do, don’t I.” He pauses. “But I did get my PHD from a curse, remember. So my advice is mostly friendly advice.”

Regina nods. “It does help, Archie.”

“I’m glad that it does.” He cups a hand over hers.

“Sometimes I just need someone to talk to. Someone who just listens.” She sighs. “Someone who won’t give me a hope speech or a well meaning spiel about how much better things have gotten for me.” She swallows. “That doesn’t mean much when things don’t feel like they’ve gotten better. Or..” she is choking up now. “Or when I’m just waiting for them to fall apart again. I’m scared, Archie.”

He nods.

“I...things have been going so well for so long and I don’t know when it’s going to collapse, I just know that it will. And I don’t want to lose everything and everyone again.” She touches her trembling fingers to her cheeks, wipes away a few tears. “I worked so hard… I don’t want to lose Henry or Emma. I don’t want to lose you.”

Archie pulls her in closer, lets her lean on his shoulder. “You’re not going to be happy all the time, Regina. That’s not how it works. You’re going to be sad.” He wipes a few more tears away. “You’re going to cry and sometimes you’re going to be downright miserable. But eventually that’s going to fall apart too and you’ll be happy again.” He helps her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“Archie, I’m not even dressed.” She gestures to her night robe.

“And you know what?”

She inhales deeply. “What?”

“There is a happiness in sorrow.”

“Do tell me where that is, Archie.”

He wraps his arms more tightly around her. “You get comfort when you cry. So let yourself be sad sometimes.”

“I am sad more than I’m not.”

“So when you are happy, cling to it, don’t be afraid of it. You being happy doesn’t cause sadness. Happiness isn’t a reserve that gets depleted or a bank account that gets drained. It’s a cup that gets low sometimes and then refills.”

She wonders if she can let herself be happy, it seems so...impossible. “I want it to stay full.” Even she knows that this is simply not possible. And so she would rather keep it only partially full so that the mess is isn’t as big when the glass tips.

“Why don’t we try something simple?” Archie asks. “What is your favorite time of day?”

Regina furrows her brows. “What?”

“Your favorite time of day. Is it just before sunrise? Sunset? Midafternoon?”

“I like autumn mornings.” She replies. “Sunrises. When there’s mist on the ground but it isn’t gloomy.”

“Well how about this? Tomorrow we’ll go for that walk and you an enjoy that sunrise. We can go to the forest so you can see all of the colors. Those are little things, you can enjoy them because the sun always rises.”

Regina quirks her brow. “I have heard of cursed villages where…”

He gives a light laugh. “Well we’re not in a cursed village.” She opens her mouth to protest but before she can he says, “the curse on this town has been broken.”

“Fine, we can go for a walk tomorrow.”

.oOo.

The air is crisp. She can smell cinnamon and burning leaves, a touch of pumpkin spice. Eventually she will add a tinge of apple to the air. The aromas follow she and Archie well into the rustling forest.

For the longest time they are quiet, Regina is more than content to hear the leaves flutter as the wind shakes them from their branches. To hear them crunch beneath her feet. To hear the squirrels and deer scamper about.

Now and then she catches a glimpse of antlers before the buck dashes out of sight, likely in search of a mate. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She can taste autumn on her tongue. There is no mist today but the sun glows a vivid orange and gold as it spills its rays between the tree trunks. It is not yet high enough for its rays to filter through the canopy.

As they walk, she comes to find that the forest is particularly lively this morning. The squirrels chase one another up and down the trunks of trees while others gather acorns. Geese take flight, well on their way south. There are plenty of rabbits scuffling through piles of leaves. And on one occasion, Regina spies the tail of a raccoon and points it out with more enthusiasm than Archie had expected of her.

The man is grinning at her. She slows her pace to a halt, adjusts her scarf, and pushes at her hat. She holds her hand out and Archie hands her a steaming foam cup. The tea inside warms her palms.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Archie asks.

Regina nods. “This is nice. Quiet.” She enjoys whitenoise. “I haven’t gone on a walk through the forest in a while.”

“We can make it a habit.” Archie suggests.

“Wake up and go for a quick walk before work. Or after you get home. Just a little something to make your day better.”

“Yes. I think that that would be a good idea.”

“You can invite Emma and Henry and the Charmings.” He suggests. “I think that it would be a nice way to bond with everyone.”

She nods again.

She is almost certain that she knows what he is thinking; if she should eventually come to realize that the simplicity of walking through the woods won’t lead to profound stress and disappointment then they can take another step. She can find something a little less simple to enjoy. She knows this tactic.

She knows it and she supposes that she welcomes it. Her coping methods haven’t exactly worked.

“What about when winter comes? I don’t like snow.”

“Winter snow or Snow White?”

“I can tolerate winter snow.” She shrugs. He nudges her. “The other Snow is alright too I suppose. In moderation. All snow is fine in moderation.”

He laughs. “Well then we can go for shorter walks or we can find some other small joy. Like reading by the fire. I think that Henry would enjoy coming over and reading by the fire.”

“Yes, he would like that wouldn’t he.” She agrees.

“You’re going to be happy, Regina, no matter what season. And before you even realize it, you won’t be afraid to be happy.”

Regina peers at the rising sun. Its rays, higher now, halo her cheeks. “Perhaps.” She mumbles. A breeze stirs the leaves and carries on it a woodsy scent, perhaps a tinge of wild flower. The entirety of the landscape is bathed in a honey haze. Everything smells so fresh, so sharp. At least for the moment, it seems very possible.

#Once Upon A Time #Regina Mills #Archie Hopper #Regina/Archie #Fanfiction #One Shot

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