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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Note

Hey! I really like how you write about Sally Face, I love how you highlight his kindness but also his strength. It struck me a lot how he wonders if anyone will ever love him, I guess it's hard for him to believe in someone's love for him, from a romantic point of view. I thought ... could you write something about a reader in love with him, who gets rejected for that reason but still loves him until Sal dies? You don't have to do it (also because you prefer angst / comfort right?), But I try to ask you ... I'd like to see it written by you. It will hurt but it will be worth it.

Dear Anon,

I hope you like this because I suffered the pain of hell writing this :3

But jokes aside, I hope it does justice to your expectations, I hope I have treated everything with the right delicacy.

Warning: ANGST and SPOILER (I say this for safety)

The story is set in the canonical plot, even if there may be slight differences (after all there is always one more character, you). But for those who haven't played Sally Face this could be revealing.

77- Sally Face, Sal Fisher x reader (Angst)

“The sunflower that cannot bloom “

"I love you."

Those words had slipped off your lips with one of the most beautiful smiles Sal had ever seen.

You weren't perfect, but you were tailor-made for him. Somehow, he had thought that from the first day he met you, by mistake, on a black day. You had offered him a sunflower, a huge yellow flower that shone like the sun in the midst of his misfortunes, and his black day had grown better.

This was you, what he needed when the weight was too much to carry, when he found himself snorting one too many times, when he felt like crying.

Still, even though you were tailor-made for him, he wasn't tailor-made for you.

He would have liked to believe you, with all his heart, he would have asked for nothing more than to be loved by you.

But he couldn't believe it.

"No, you don't ..." His voice was gentle, as if he were explaining something important to a little child.

Your brows had furrowed as you pointed your gaze into the depths of his soul.

"You do not believe me?" Your tone wandered between uncertainty and offense "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

A sigh rang through the empty hollows of his mask: “No, you're not lying to me. I just think you… don't really know what you're saying. "

Your expression deepened as you prepared to argue back. He had seen the wound open inside you and he had looked away; he couldn't watch you while he hurt you.

Oh, he was so good at making himself loved. The river of emotions that had overwhelmed you had died out as soon as his one living eye was separated from you.

Disappointment, anger, sadness had disappeared in favor of affection for him.

His mask was flat, helpless, cold towards his heart, yet he communicated more than anyone else with that immense little soul of him.

"Sal ..." finally you called him gently, reassuring, while your fingers lovingly brushed the cheek of the cold prosthesis.

"I love you." You repeated it, and he turned to tell you to stop. He couldn't be loved, he didn't feel capable of being loved.

He would never have a love like that of movies, or even like that of normal people, like Maple and Chug. He, as he was, could never have been loved, not even by you.

He was going to tell you, to tell you everything, but you stopped him softly: "but it's okay if you don't want to."

You barely laughed, as if everything was really okay with you, and you leaned on his shoulder, cuddling against his neck.

"I have my whole life to make you understand." You said cheerfully, and he just looked at you, accepting that little stubbornness of yours.

Even though he was aware that one day he would see you happy in the arms of someone you really would love, for the time being it was okay for him to bask in that little illusion you were giving him.

---

Life had been cruel.

"I had no choice."

Those words had pierced your brain.

The first time he had told you with a force that you almost confused with anger. His body had never been so rigid in front of you, motionless, sitting on the other side of the table in the visiting room of the prison, surrounded by other inmates like him.

You wondered if you were sane, because you looked into the eyes of a murderer, a killer who had exterminated families, who had even killed a little girl, yet your tears were for them, but also for him.

Whatever it was, Sal hadn't changed, and behind his mask he was more broken into pieces than you were. He hadn't had a choice, for some reason he hadn't had a choice.

It was weird and unreal, but you had no doubts about him, even though your mind still couldn't believe what happened, and Sal probably didn't really realize it either.

However, the second time he told you "I had no choice" his voice was different. He was different, and so were you. You had grown up, but both of you had stood still in what had happened. At that moment he was telling you so that you believed him, so that you knew it was not what he wanted, because if he could have chosen at that moment you would have been together in front of a pizza, telling you how boring the day had been.

"I beg you ..." You whispered so as not to let him hear how broken your voice was "... tell me what I have to do to save you."

It was the first time you used that word, out of pure desperation.

For a moment he hesitated and hoped you wouldn't see his uncertainty behind the mask. Finally, Sal shook his head in silence; he didn't know if it would do any good, but at least he would try to protect you.

Your hand was holding his for the first time in years, and you both knew it would be the last time you would hold it. You had done everything to be able to have that last contact, to still be able to hold him before they took him away from you forever.

You didn't want to cry, you wouldn't have done it on your last time together, but your heart was so heavy that you thought you would die as soon as you separated.

While you massaged the back of his hand with your thumb, you tried to record every detail in your mind that belonged to him, to burn the heat of his palm against yours, to remember the exact weight of his touch.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, you never stopped doing it, not a second you stopped giving him your best side, and you would have given it only to him also in the future.

"You are so important to me, Sal ..." your blue sky under which sunflowers bloom.

"Thank you ... for always being with me."

Part of you died when you let go of his hand that day.

---

Until the last you hoped that something would happen. A ghost that suddenly appears, an angel, a new discovery ... anything, as long as he was kept away from that electric chair.

When your phone rang, you were deluded for a moment.

"Hey…"

"Sal?"

"They ... allowed me to call whoever I wanted ..."

Your heart fell on hearing his voice. It was his last day, his last day in your own world, that was his farewell to you.

"Sal, I-" Your words broke into a sob you couldn't hold back "I'm with you, I'll always be with you."

Silence invaded the line between the two of you as you tried not to give him your tears as your last caress.

"I know it." He was holding back the crying, you could hear it "And I'll always be with you too, know that."

You were tailor-made for him, and his heart would remain for you, even if you moved on, you would love someone worthy sooner or later, or at least he hoped you would, that the demon would not devour your future. .

"Bring me some sunflowers if you can ... ok?" That request trembled "They always make me think of you."

You forced yourself to cover your mouth with your palm to stifle your agony: "I'll fill you with sunflowers."

Something told you that even if you couldn't see him, he was trying to smile: "It's a bit a cliché but ... be happy."

You would have preferred to have died in that very moment.

"Sal, wait!" You begged for him now, holding on to the phone like it was him, like you could hold him there.

He hesitated at the desperation of your voice.

"I can't ..." his voice was soft, light, like when he consoled you years ago, when all this seemed simply impossible.

“I beg you…” You didn't know who you were really praying for, but you weren't ready to hear his voice go out.

One more minute, one more touch, a hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had to put up with this." A sob from him too. “Please… fight for your happiness, okay? You deserve all the happiness in the world. "

"Sal ..."

The answer that followed was the only intermittent sound of the blank phone line.

It's over, you'll never be able to hear Sal's voice again. You won't be able to talk to him anymore.

And he never believed you loved him.

---

How could you ever be happy?

His mask still looks at you as it always did, but behind the empty gaze there are nothing but blades of grass growing above his burial.

How could they bury him without his mask? He will feel uncomfortable.

Now you don't have to be strong for him anymore, you can collapse, break, destroy yourself, scream like you've never screamed, ask him to come back, because you need him.

Your fingers caress the cold, hard cheeks of his prosthesis as they always did, as if he were still behind it. Next to it, the sunflower he asked you for, like the one you gave him the first time you saw him.

"I love you Sally face ..." your words now go to the wind, they cannot be refused.

"I really love you."

---

Where you don't know, where you are not, a guy who has the weight of the world on his shoulders thinks about how much he could never be loved as people love each other in movies, or how people love each other in the world. But suddenly, like a ray of light, in the darkness he is facing, the yellow of a sunflower blooms. It's just a thought, but for a moment it's warm, and sweet, and it carries your voice with it.

You exist only within him, but you give him the love he needs, the one he didn't believe in, but which instead exists.

It is a tormented love, which suffers, but still welcomes him and wraps him as your arms did.

You are not there, you are far away, unreachable.

But he feels it, you're still there with him

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher #sally face sal #angst #death of a character #spoiler alert #gaming #horror

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bakusquad-assemble · 3 years

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Can I request a Sero x reader/Bakusquad x reader who is dealing with a panic attack after Class 1A deals with yet another villain. Also no rush and I absolutely love your writing!

Aw, thank you so so much! I love being able to write for you! I also love all the love Sero gets on this blog, I’m not sure I do his character justice but damn we love to see it. No warnings on this one, just some sweet comfort and fluff. Hope you enjoy!

The sound of blaring sirens pierced through the night sky, dark and cold save for the flashing red lights that illuminated the students of class 1A. They sat huddled close together, blankets pulled tightly around their shoulders in attempts to bring them some semblance of comfort. It seemed as if your class was a target for misfortune, like the group of students were always in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you were being honest with yourself, the fear of the evil lurking around the corner at any given moment was really starting to get to you. You all somehow managed to escape each attack relatively unscathed, except for a few cuts and bruises that would heal in time, but you were still shaken to your core every time and couldn’t find the strength to keep it down any longer. You’re not quite sure when you started crying, letting the salty tears soak down your blood stained cheeks, but you didn’t even attempt to quell them. You let them consume you, wracking your body with sobs in hopes that it would bring you some solace. Instead you felt your body tremble, your stomach churning with all of the fear that you had kept down for far too long. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you whimpered out involuntarily, in hopes that no one would shift their attention to you.

That hope was shattered almost immediately though as the tall black haired boy who sat next to you straightened his back at attention. He had heard you take in a sharp breath, and upon locking eyes with your form he found his heart dropping in his chest like it was attached to a ton of weights; sinking to the bottom of a treacherous sea with ease. Hanta Sero has had a crush on you for some time now. There was just something about you he found so enticing, like a magnetic force was constantly surrounding you and pulling him in every time he wandered too close. You were best friends, constantly sharing laughs and inside jokes in the hallways at school, or having deep conversations late at night in the dorm common rooms. He cared about you so deeply, and seeing you like this; covered in your own tears and blood and shaking in fear, made him sick to his stomach. He was quick to act, his large hand reaching out for the small of your back to lend you consolation, but when you jumped back from him he quickly pulled away and put his hands up in the most non threatening way he could muster. You hadn’t meant to react like that to Sero’s touch, in fact, you craved his warmth more than ever right now. You wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by his comforting embrace as he whispered his latest horrible joke into your ear- managing to pull a laugh from your salty and cracked lips, but your body was on high alert after tonight. Luckily, Sero understood completely.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me.” He reassured, his hands still up in the air in attempts to show you he meant no harm. He offered a sweet smile, despite feeling that same fear that overtook you, and you felt your body relax ever so slightly. You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt as the tears continued to spill like rushing waterfalls.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you choked out, voice barely audible among the commotion that surrounded the two of you, but Sero heard you clear as day. He could see everything he needed to know written in your pinched expression. You were petrified, and he was going to do everything in his power to make you feel better.

“Woah, hey! don’t apologize!” Sero started, cautiously moving his hands down in front of him and reaching out for one of your hands,trying his best to read your expressions as he did so. You didn’t pull away and he delicately wrapped his large hand in your smaller one, his thumb rubbing comforting circles atop your soft skin. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he’s never really touched you this intimately before. He tried his best to shake the sensation, and was thankful for the dark night sky for hiding the flush that consumed his features.

“Nothings wrong with you, y/n! I think we’re all a bit shaken up after that and it’s totally normal to be upset.”

The remnants of the dam that you had been holding up broke at Sero’s words, and suddenly you were sobbing uncontrollably and throwing yourself into his arms. The choked noises of anguish gained the attention of some classmates nearby, but you didn’t notice, nor care. You were lost in your own thoughts, in the fear of what could have happened, and the only thing keeping you grounded was Seros arms wrapping tightly around your torso and pulling you in against his chest. He brought the comforting circular motions to your back in efforts to soothe you while he rested his chin comfortably on the top of your head. If you were a bit more aware of your surroundings, perhaps you’d have noticed the way Sero’s heartbeat ran rampant in his chest, or the way his hands got clammy with nerves on your low back, but instead your mind lulled it out.

It was Kaminari’s voice that permeated the air first, though you kept your head situated in Sero’s chest, finding refuge in his closeness.

“Oh man, are they okay?” Kaminari stood awkwardly in front of the two of you, pulling his blanket snuggly over his shoulders to keep it from falling to the ground. Sero’s only response was to pull you in tighter and shake his head. Kaminari sighed out, his voice wavering as if he had just gotten over crying himself. You couldn’t help but look up from the confines of Sero’s chest just a bit, eyebrows pinched up in curiosity.

“Mind if I join you guys? Mineta isn’t exactly the best company in a time like this.” He tried to keep his voice light and playful, shooting your newly emerged face a warm smile. Kaminari didn’t wait for a response,however; instead picking the unoccupied spot next to you and squeezing in tight, enjoying the comfort the closeness brought him.

“Mineta is never good company, Bro. He’s a little scumbag” Sero quipped, sending a smile the electric boy's way. Kaminari chuckled, shrugging defeatedly.

“Hey! he can be funny sometimes!”

“I think that makes you a little scumbag too, dude. ”

You felt your throat stutter as you let out a breathy laugh. It came out choked and water logged, but it was a sweet little laugh nonetheless. Both of their expressions lit up, looking at each other before moving their eyes down to you, shocked by the sweet sound escaping your lips. Sero smiled widely, pulling you in just a bit tighter as he felt your shoulders get lighter. These boys always knew how to pull it out of you, and despite the fear still bubbling deep inside, their playful banter had you feeling kind of normal again.

“Woah, hey! Why didn’t we get an invite to the “we almost died but we didn’t and we still kickin it somehow” snuggle fest? Move over! I need some!” Minas voice was perky per usual, but even you could detect the hints of worry laced between each syllable. She was just able to use her personality to hide it well, something you had never been more envious of than right now. You straightened your back, pulling away from Sero to get a better view of the rest of your friends approaching. You tried your best to wipe your face free of any remnants of your breakdown, though seemingly impossible with the current state you were in. Mina was pulling Kirishima along behind her by the hand, keeping him close for comfort reasons you figured, and a certain scowling blonde wasn’t too far behind. It was as if he was tethered to the redhead, following against his will and dissatisfied with his new change of scenery, yet he continued to follow with a pout and his arms crossed heavily over his chest. After knowing bakugou for so long, though. His demeanor didn’t shake you, nor did his booming tone as he spoke up above the noise.

“The hell you all whining for? Some hero’s you are for being afraid of some lowlife discount villains that couldn’t even kill a bunch of high schoolers!” Kirishima nudged Bakugou hard, causing him to shoot the red haired boy an evil glare. It didn’t shake Kirishima though, he just shook his head at his blonde best friend.

“Read the room, Bakubro. We’re all kinda messed up about it. Even the manliest people get scared sometimes, you should know. ” Bakugou clicked his tongue in frustration, dropping onto the ground with a thud and pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it.

“I’d never be scared by some shitty ass villains and neither should you! They didn’t stand a chance against us! You’re all alive so stop complaining” Bakugou had locked eyes with you, and deep down you knew this was his makeshift way of trying to cheer you up. His way to remind you how strong you were, despite the tears and snot that ran down your face. You nodded softly to him, a faint smile ghosting your lips, and he quickly averted his gaze to anywhere but you. Mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out but appreciated nonetheless. You watched Kirishima take a spot of the ground near Kaminari, and Mina dropped to her knees in front of you, her eyes welling with the same tears that plagued yours. Her smile was gentle, caring, and it made you feel safe. Safe despite everything that had happened to all of you just a few hours earlier. In fact, just being surrounded by your friends filled you with a sense of comfort that you didn’t expect yourself to find. You weren’t sure if it was simply their presence, or if it was the puffy eyes and wordless smiles of understanding that laid hidden on their expressions.

“You alright, baby?” Mina asked, her soft and well manicured hands coming to rest on your soaked cheeks. And despite it all, you nodded. The tiny smile still ever present on your face. Because for the first time tonight, you were reminded that no matter how hard things get, no matter how many villains tried to tear you down, you would always have your friends to pick you back up- to put a smile on your face with ease when you felt just minutes prior that you may never smile again. You could never thank them enough.

“Yeah, I will be.”

#bnha #mha #sero x reader #sero hanta #bakusquad imagines #bakusquad #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #mina ashido #kaminari denki #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #bakusquad x reader #gn!reader

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Tales of Alcoria: Take it all away (JJK x Reader) (angst)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Alien!AU, Space!AU, Human!Reader, Catch it! AU

Length: 3k (roughly 10 Min RT)

Tags/Warnings: Oh boy, angsty af, Jungkook focused, who is casper the friendly ghost aka the pale man, we dont know but I accept guesses, did I mention angst, abduction, mentions of violence and injury, mentions of childbirth, mentions of depression and death, dead dove do not eat

Summary: Theres nothing worse for a man of Alcor, than taking away his family.

Everything went way too fast.

He's frantic, as he runs down the streets, mind scattered as his cat-eyes scan his environment. It's not only you anymore he's searching for- he's searching for you, and the small, tiny and fragile little life growing inside you. It was unfair. How could the world grant him his biggest wish, just to take it away from him like that? It was just not fair.

"Y/N!" He shouts, but there's no one answering. He's unfamiliar with the human earth, he doesn't know where he is- all he really wants is to find you. to have you back, to bring you home, to keep you safe. You don't belong on this withering planet anymore- you belonged at his side, where he can protect you, and look after you. You're his- not as a property, but as a lover, as a heart, as a piece of himself.

It had all happened so fast.

He'd been away from home, just some hours to pick something up- when they had come to his house, taking you away, without his knowledge. He only figured it out after coming home, Namjoon suddenly calling him, unnaturally frantic as he asks if he had been able to hide you. Jungkook had been unsure about what he had meant- until Namjoon had explained to him that a group of humans- a movement of reclaiming the earth as they had said- had captured a ship, a massive cargo ship to 'finally go back home'. They had taken humans by force, having searched for them after stealing information, thinking those who had established relationships or wanted to stay had been brainwashed. It had all happened so fast, that when Jungkook checked the bedroom, the living room, the bathroom and even the kids room- barely any furniture put together yet- but nothing had a trace of your disappearance.

And by now, Jungkook as well as others determined to get their human companions and partners back, had boarded the police ships to help with the search.

But Jungkook had no idea where he was. Maybe he had been placed in an entirely wrong place, he thought; but then he had found the now abandoned cargo ship, and his determination had been refueled after finding your collar in a pile of others, cut through like a visible reminder of what had happened. He's roaming around like a starving animal; cat like eyes scanning every movement he can catch, inner hunter coming to the surface as his instincts take over. He has to bring you back home, has to bring you back to his own safe space, where he can look after you. You're so vulnerable now, so fragile, such an easy target. You're not just his human, his property or partner- you're the mother of his child, keeper of his heart, and meaning of his life at this point.

You're his soulmate, he desperately believes in that.

But you're not there, he can't find you, and he doesn't know how long he can stand this.

There's silence around him, although the ship itself is loud, roaring as the engines bring him away again from earth- from the planet you came from, and he remembers the day he'd brought you with him.

This time however, he's all alone, apart from other alcorians, woman and men alike, visibly as defeated as he was. Some hold onto the remnants of belongings of their partners, lovers, and friends- others simply sit in silence, and some console each other in their sadness.

He can't look outside the small window, can't do it, as if he's scared of catching a glimpse of you. He doesn't want to believe yet that you're not with him anymore, that you're somewhere he doesn't know. He had promised you again and again that he'd keep you safe, that he'd protect you, and yet he had failed at the end. Not only you, but his own child as well- having failed to even give it a chance to see the world- anything- with their own eyes. He's failed to keep an eye on his family.

Maybe this was his punishment for it.

Jungkook doesn't cry often- Alcorian men rarely ever do, simply because there's no reason most of the time. But in that moment, in the dimly lit section of the ship he's sitting in, he does. He cries, quietly, as it grows silent after breaking orbit. There's no going back, no chance for a movie-like encounter of you running after the ship and barely making it inside. No. You're probably still on earth somewhere, maybe you're hurt-

Maybe worse.

And it hits him even worse as his mind suddenly has to think of the possibility that no, his entire search had been futile after all, because what if you had already passed somewhere, by the hands of cruel mother nature or someone else? He can't think straight anymore, as he lets the emotions flow through him, stars passing by as he curls in on himself.

Just wanting to be left alone.

The nightmares don't stop for him, not at all.

They continue now more than before, without your form resting next to his in bed to reassure him that you're safe. Because nowadays, he doesn't have that luxury. He doesn't know if you're safe.

By now, he thinks as he looks at the alarm clock showing the date, Heejin would be born.

He realizes with an aching heart, that he won't be there to see it. He doesn't even know if it will even happen- if it already happened. He's not there to know, because you're far away from him, and he doesn't even care about the tears already falling out of his eyes, staining the pillow underneath his head. He doesn't care about anything, can only focus on your faint scent still lingering on his sheets and pillows.

He's heard about Alcorians loosing their partners before, and it had never been pretty. Most grow depressed for a while, but they move on. But you weren't simply his partner. You're not. You're not only the mother of his child. You're not only a lover.

You're his mate.

And he knows for a fact, that mates can't move on. He has to think about the future, when his sheets and home loose any trace of you, when his entire life will move on without you at his side. He knows he won't be able to just move on, because how could he ever?

His heart clenches at the though. He just wants to sleep.

If you could see him, you wouldn't recognize him at all.

Sweet and gentle Jungkook, with eyes blood red and sharpened canines on full display, as he pushes his hands down the man's throat, anger his driving force. He doesn't even know why, why it set him off so much, but it did- and now, the poor man underneath him struggles to breathe, nails scratching on Jungkooks wrists- but its nothing for him. He had been outside, going home after a short meetup with Jin and Namjoon- both as sad as he was, but not as bad physically- when he had spotted the pale figure currently fighting against his hold. Its useless.

A human can't just push off an alcorian.

"Fuck- y/N!" He gets out, and Jungkooks eyes widen, as he leaves the man's throat alone, instead standing up as he grabs him by his clothing, easily pushing him against the streetlamp with enough force to make it softly sway. He lets the stranger cough, but watches him with the same eyes- their color nothing you would've ever seen before. They're violent, dark, they're nothing like Jungkook. "She's with- god fuck.." The young man coughs again, rubbing his throat. "She's with Taehyung and Jimin at my place. We hid." He says.

"How can I trust you?" Jungkook says, voice deep and without any emotions. "For all I know, you could be one of them." He says, and the man nods, making Jungkook furrow his brow in confusion.

"You can't. I admit that." He says. "But what am I supposed to do to you, huh?" He smirks, resting the back of his head against the cold metal of the streetlamp, raven black hair falling over his eyes. "I had to find you, but I didn't know-" He clears his throat. "I didn't know where you lived. When I found her, she was heavily pregnant, and confused, weak. I couldn't just drag her out and let her guide me, you know?" He explains. "We had a baby to deliver, shit went down, and finding you moved into the back of my mind, no offense." He says.

Jungkooks eyes widen, features soft and desperate, as his eyes change back to their honeycomb color. "I- How is she? How is my baby? Where are they?!" He hurries out, accidentally shoving the man a little too forceful.

"Ah fuck- break my back and you'll never know." He jokes, and Jungkook moves back, leaving him alone for the moment. "Come on then. I'll explain along the way." He says.

You hold your hands over your ears as you try and blend out the roaring of the cargo ship departing. You're supposed to be on it- they've cut off your collar, had told you you've been talked into things, that they'd be making everything right again. You had panicked, jumping out the ship last second as you had hid behind a container, scared to death.

Its then, that you can spot a pair of worn down boots stopping in front of your scratched up knees. For a moment you forget that you have your hands over your ears, that you can't hear, but you remember as the person squatted. "Hey- you okay?" He mouths, and its when you spot Taehyung and Jimin behind him, that you let your tears flow, glad to see them. You slowly let your hands fall down as you don't care about anything; falling into the strangers arms in front of you. You may not know his name; but he's a familiar face, and right now, thats all you need. He's a bit stiff, but relaxes after a moment, softly patting your back. "You're alright, we got you. Can you stand up?" He asks, voice low and surprisingly comforting as you nod, hissing a bit as you finally stand.

Your growing belly is making things increasingly difficult these days.

Taehyung is unsure, but clicks his tongue after a second; holding your arm to aid you in walking as you walk together with the small group, the pale man leading the way. Its stressful, and you're unsure for a moment, until you reach the stairway of an apartment building, the stairs too much as Jimin opens the elevator. "We have to be quick, we don't know if theres still people searching." He says, a kind smile sent your way as he pushes some of your hair out of your way.

"Guys." You say, as the elevator rises up. Everyone turns to you. "I know this is horrible- fuck.! -horrible timing, but the baby is coming." You grit out, as Taehyungs eyes widen, instantly looking at Jimin and the stranger for any sign of knowledge in what to do.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and you scoff, unable to hide your demeanor as you try and stay upright.

"I literally have had this child inside of me for months, Taehyung." You say. "If I say I'm about to give birth, I am about to give birth." You say, and Jimin holds your other arm, as the pale man with the black hair unlocks an apartment door- probably his, you guess.

You're scared, and you honestly know for a fact that you almost black out here and there. But once your child begins to cry out, and the human stranger gives it to you, hands careful in holding it while Jimin does his best to aid in everything with the knowledge that Jin had taugh him prior, you can't help but smile. Your child is everything to you, right from the start, and you know, there's nothing you had to worry about. You may didn't have the connection Jungkook had with his child- but you knew, this connection was just as precious.

You slowly turn your head to the side, the young man sitting in a corner, back against the wall as he looks at you. Theres no smile on his face, he looks quite stoic- but his eyes are gentle, they're warm. "You never told me your name." You say, voice barely above a whisper, as you can feel yourself drift off, Jimin chewing on his lip as he tells Taehyung to bring more towels.

The young man smiles, slightly, but you can see it. "As I said, I don't remember." He tells you. "Call me whatever you want, I guess." He says.

"Okay." You say, and the young man smiles, swallowing thickly, as he looks down; you assume he doesn't want you to see him vulnerable. "Thank you." You tell him.

"No." He answers. "Thank you."

When Jungkook sees you, he doesn't care about the small bandage wrapped around your arm, or the blood stained towels, or the scratches on your knees. He doesn't care about your tired form, skin still a little pale and eyes exhausted. He doesn't care about anything; in his eyes, you're glowing, you're alive, you're existing right there in front of him. Like a goddess herself you're radiating as you sit on the couch, Jimin at your side before he moves away, making space for Jungkook as he slowly walks closer. You've got a small bundle of blankets in your arms, and he knows, instinctively, what it is.

He can feel it.

There's a certain pull, like a magnet that pushes him closer, as he walks towards you. He wants to know how, where, but in that moment, he doesn't care. He only sees you, and the small being in your arm; and he can't take his eyes off of her, that living child that you both have created. Heejin slowly opens her eyes, bright orbs looking at him; her cat-like pupils contracting and dilating as if to train their adjustment already.

She's beautiful.

His hands move slowly, scared even, as if all disappears as soon as he touches. But it stays, and she's so warm, as he moves to rest on his knees, his head falling next to his newborn daughter, resting, for the first time in days, finally close to you again.

"She's done it all by herself." Jimin comments, and Jungkook only moves his eyes towards him in the room, a silent way of telling him he's listening. "When we found her, she was still up and walking." He says, and Jungkooks hands move closer to you.

"I couldn't have done it without you all." You say, and a hand reaches into Jungkooks hair, and he wants to cry, but he's so tired, and you smell so nice, like home. He falls asleep right then and there, uncaring of anything.

He has you back, at his side.

Right where you belong.

His eyes rip open as he jumps up in his bedroom, window open and his clothes still on.

It had all been a dream, hadn't it?

He sighs out as he laughs bitterly, getting up from his bed as he stumbles over your shoes- a bitter reminder of your former presence in his home. He doesn't care about the light guiding his way, he simply leaves it shut off- his eyes able to see just fine at night as he walks into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water.

Its when he puts it away and walks back into his bedroom that he stops, as he watches you climb into his bed, stopping midway as you smile at him. "You seemed tired earlier, Jin had to carry you to bed after we came home- go change and come to bed, yeah?" You say, as you look towards the opened door leading into Heejin's bedroom. "She's finally asleep now." You whisper, and Jungkook simply climbs into bed, pulling his shirt over his head with tired arms as he rids himself of most his clothes- needing to be close to you.

"I though I'd lost you." He whispers against your neck as he pulls you close, uncaring about the cold outside air nipping at his now bare skin. "Again." He says. He feels your warm body against him, and thats all he needs, he thinks to himself. You begin to tell him that you're there now, but he shakes his head, lips ghosting over the skin as he speaks quietly. "I thought I'd dreamed it all." He said.

"You didn't." You say. "I'm right here." And Jungkook nods, holding you a bit tighter.

"Right where you belong."

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #jungkook #Alcoria AU

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong.

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself)

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!”

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes.

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco.

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly.

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?”

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed.

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?”

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?”

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—”

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,”

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear.

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?”

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes.

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me.

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —”

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,”

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

chapter 11

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theanoninyourinbox · 3 years

Text

Longstar Au Thunderclan Boogaloo

First, i’d like to thank all of you for your support of my au, I was really surprised at the support! Seriously thank you!!

Second, some details I forgot to mention last time. Cinderpaw still gets hit by the car, but instead of being forced into being a medicine cat, she genuinely enjoys working with Fireheart and Yellowfang. Flamewish makes a bunch of jokes about how her brother stole her apprentice, but she’s just glad Cinderpaw survived. And Longstar still gets kicked in the face by the rabbit, but manages to turn his head at the last second. He still loses some of his vision, but only about half - as he ages it gets worse, but by the time he goes completely blind, he’s got a grandkit that helps him work through his struggles.

Anyway, onto the next part!

In the space between book canon, Longstar is out looking for a juicy mouse for his hungry wife, who’s caring for their first kits, when he’s caught off guard by the scent of dog. To his dismay, he finds a ravaged dead dog with a large grey molly breathing her last nearby. She rasps out for something in the dark, and passes. Longstar looks around, and finds a terrified kit hiding under a nearby bush, bleeding from a paw. After a rushed run back to camp, the kit is treated by Fireheart and Cinderpelt, and Flamewish scoops up the traumatized kit to snuggle with Swiftkit and Foxkit. It’s quickly agreed he’s staying with Flamewish, and Longstar deduces he’s the Dark that the molly was referencing, and Dark-kit is officially adopted by the leader of Thunderclan. Canon continues until...

Swiftpaw comes to her father, worried that her problems hunting and anxiety outside of camp will keep her from being a warrior. Longstar remembers a tale about a warrior who guarded the camp after an injury crippled him, and works with her mentor Mistlenose to get her up to speed on hunting, while working with Fireheart and Cinderpelt with her anxiety. Foxpaw and Darkpaw join her to be supportive, and Darkpaw discovers a love of healing, leading to him apprenticing under Cinderpelt. Canon continues until...

Ashfur! He has zero romantic intentions towards Foxfur - for one, she’s his niece! Ew! Also he has a mate - Flyshadow, Frostfoot’s daughter. They’re holing off on having kits for now, but are absolutely smitten with each other. Flyshadow’s brother Coldlight has a crush on Sandstorm, but with his selective mutism and shyness, he’s never told her. Canon continues until...

Brambleclaw! Foxpaw absolutely bothers the snot out of him, but he has a plan - he hates the leaders of Thunderclan, despises Whitestorm for betraying his old friend, and Longstar for usurping his father’s rightful place. That's right, Brambleclaw is a Tigerstar apologist. His mother and sister have no idea how much he idolizes his father, or that his ghost has been visiting him in the night. His plan is to use Foxpaw to get close to Longstar, and eventually usurp the old foxheart Whitestorm, then murder Longstar and return Thunderclan to a pure, kittypet free clan, feared by the other clans. So he puts up with her, hoping to get closer so he can enact he and his father’s plan. Canon continues until...

The new Prophecy! Fireheart has a vision of a flaming cat and a shadowy tiger. and Foxpaw starts having strange dreams. She meets up with the others, with Brambleclaw following behind, claiming she needs “a real warrior” to back her up. Tawnypelt is happy to see her brother, but a bit suspicious - he seems like he’s hiding something. Foxpaw and the older Crowpaw bond over their status as apprentices, and after a while, Crowpaw opens up about his phobia of water. He tells Foxpaw and a supportive Feathertail about his adoption into Windclan, and how the first thing he can remember is drowning, and then being dragged out of the water by twolegs. He fled, and was found wandering Windclan by Deadfoot, and adopted. The three create a strong friendship, which continues canonically until...

The Tribe! Feathertail is still the silver cat of the prophecy, but survives just barely, breaking her back and becoming paralyzed. Stormfur promises to come back for her, plus he still falls for Brook. The rest of the gang continues on by canon until...

The trapped cats and Shrewpaw! Sandstorm is the one who gets driven off instead of Graystripe, and the clans all mourn her as if she died. Shrewpaw manages to yeet himself farther than canon, getting clipped on the hip and spun across the road. He drags himself back to Thunderclan, pheasant clenched in his mouth. His hind leg never fully heals, but he throws himself into cat-physical therapy with Cinderpelt to get back on his feet. Canon continues until...

The return! The cats are greeted lovingly by their families if not the rest of their clans, and Foxpaw and Crowpaw become Foxflight and Crowfeather. Shrewpaw, now Shrewleg, and Ashfur help Foxflight mourn for Sandstorm, her mentor. Brambleclaw sees this, and feels a surge of jealousy - that’s HIS Foxflight, his pawn! But he holds it together, fake consoling Whitestorm. Canon continues until...

The elders! Mudfur is still ill, and Frostfur, Speckletail, Loudbelly, and Shadepelt decide to stay with him. However, Flamewish insists in giving them a chance, and convinces them to go to her previous Twolegs home, where they’re taken in and cared for like kittypet royalty by the twolegs and their neighbors, as they deserve. Canon continues until...

Smokepaw falls! Russetfur spots him clinging desperately to a root, and Mudclaw bravely climbs down, retrieving the terrified apprentice from his certain doom. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Canon continues until...

The Tribe again! Graystripe is reunited with Feathertail, who’s flattered by Crowfeather’s requested name. Darkpaw has the vision of Spottedleaf, and the clans marvel at the Lake Territory. Canon continues until...

Hawkfrost and Mothwing finally meet up with Brambleclaw, but their conversation is interrupted when Mothwing spots Crowfeather, and thinks she’s seeing a ghost - but then Hawkfrost is like, wait, I see him too? And Crowfeather is startled, but, do I know you? And it’s officially revealed that Crowfeather is Tadpole! A joyous, if slightly confused sibling reunion takes place, and Crowfeather gets to introduce his adopted family to his missing siblings! The only one not delighted is Brambleclaw, furious at being upstaged. But he feigns delight at the events. Canon continues until...

The death of a leader. Tallstar passes, but with Mudclaw at his side. He begs his Deputy to treat the other clans with kindness, as he treated Smokepaw. Mudclaw is fervent in his promise to be a better leader than he has been a Deputy. Onewhisker is seen talking angrily to Brambleclaw, but Brambleclaw dismisses suspicions by claiming to be trying to calm his fellow warrior down. Canon continues until...

The moonpool! Darkpaw follows the spirit of Spottedleaf, and finds the Moonpool. At the next half-moon, he’s named Darkmoon. Canon continues until...

The Windclan Revolt! Onewhisker attacks Mudclaw on his way to becoming leader. Things go mostly the same, with Swiftpool being saved by Crowfeather and the following Feelings Confession, but this time it’s Foxflight and Longstar chasing down Onewhisker. He’s nearly crushed by the tree, but instead is knocked clear, breaking his hind legs and cracking him on the skull. Mudclaw calls for the medicine cats, and when Onewhisker wakes later, he has no recollection from the start of the Journey onward, and professes no animosity towards Mudclaw. Now Mudstar chooses to spare him and he is confined to the medicine den until he heals. Canon continues until...

Way different romantic drama! Foxflight and Shrewleg fell hard for each other on the Journey, and Ashfur and Flyshadow just decided to start trying for kits. It’s too bad Brambleclaw keeps starting rumors about secret relationships. They go nowhere fast, and Brambleclaw scrambles to keep a hold of his plans. Crowfeather and Swiftpool keep meeting up in secret, and consider running. During this time, Darkmoon finds out about the Tigerstar training program, and warns not Brambleclaw, but Hawkfrost, about the consequences of his actions. Hawkfrost mulls over when he tried to drop a moth wing by the medicine den, but one was already there. Canon continues until...

The Badger attack! Midnight warns the runaways and they return, but not in time to save Cinderpelt. Flamewish spots Crowfeather, does that math-circling-the-lady meme, and drags Crow, Swift, Fox, and Longstar into the den after the fight, and commands the nervous duo to spill it right now sO HELP ME STARCLAN! And they spill it, the whole secret romance. There’s a moment of silence, then Foxflight starts the Traditional Thunderclan Threats to a Siblings Datefriend, Lonstar assures Crowfeather and Swiftpool he isn’t angry, while Flamewish demands details of the love confession, was it passionate?!?! This leads to Longstar and Mudstar hashing out a deal - as long as their clans are at peace, the two can be in a relationship. This deal eventually spreads to the other clans, allowing more cross-clan relationships. (Deadfoot is simultaneously disappointed and impressed by his son, Mudstar can’t stop laughing) Canon continues until...

The blood on the lake. Brambleclaw snaps, and lures Longstar to the lake, where he’s foxtrapped. Hawkfrost is visited in his dreams by Yellowfang, who yells at him to wake up and stop his idiot half-brother gET UP OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN!!! (Yes this is exactly where Flamewish gets it from) Hawkfrost makes it to the shore as Longstar falls, and knocks Brambleclaw off the Thunderclan Leader. The two tussle, and Hawkfrost frees Longstar, killing Brambleclaw with the stake.

Sometime later, Swiftpool tells Crowfeather she’s pregnant.

And that’s it for the moment! Next up, the Three, the return of Sandstorm, and Sol that smarmy heretic. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate your support!

#Warrior cats #warrior cats au #longstar au #longtail

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candychronicles · 4 years

Text

quarantine // k. bakugou

A/N: this is my take on the kink experimentation bnharem server collab! hope you enjoy!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,534

WARNINGS: face-fucking, pegging, smacking, dom reader, implied knife play

SYNOPSIS: being stuck in quarantine is not easy, especially for heros who are so used to being active. in order to help your anxious boyfriend, you hatch a plan, one that will allow him to be relaxed while delving into your desires.

Want to enjoy more kinks? Head on over the the masterlist!

things had taken a turn for the worse: people were getting sick, people were dying, over a novel virus. panic had settled in thick as the world raced to gain control of the situation. many had begun to hoard things like toilet paper and hand sanitizer, while many simply ignored what was going on and continued to party the night away.

strict protocols were put in place to curb the spread of the virus like closures or revisions of rules over places like restaurants and bowling alleys, gatherings of 100, 50, then 10 or more were prohibited, guidelines and updates were constantly being blasted so people could stay aware of what was going on. eventually, it came to a point where stay in place orders were mandated and eventually enforced. nobody was allowed to go in and out, distribution of food and water were manned by national guards, and only the most essential of workers, like police and government employees were allowed out of the house.

the only other exception to the rule were pro-heros, who were invited to news, police, fire stations to report the facts and quell anxiety about the virus. villains were still flooding the streets, even more so with quiet streets and empty buildings, and with police and national guards being split so thin to begin with to care for the citizens, pro-heros were forced to take in an extra workload.

however, things with the virus only continued to get worse, and as more and more villains congregated with their newfound freedom, many got sick and decided that their life wasn’t worth galavanting around. and so the time of needing an influx of pro-heros dwindled out and with that came shifts, just enough to keep the peace and help where it was needed without risking any spread. even though these men and women were heros, many were still susceptible to illness and it was important to take precautions as much as possible.

this meant that Bakugou was stuck inside, subjected to the same punishments as anyone else who tried to leave the house without good reason. it would be another three weeks before it was his turn to work again and you could feel the frustration boiling under his skin. you had attempted to console him, to get him to relax, but his energy was too much and your words were fruitless.

your brain had worked tirelessly to attempt to figure out what you could do to help. he needed something different, something that would stimulate him enough to release his energy while also keeping within quarantine guidelines, something that would make him feel alive within these four walls. with those thoughts in mind, your body moved of its own accord, padding around your small house, attempting to find something that would help.

massage? no, he wouldn’t sit still long enough for that. working out? no, he does that every day.

just as you were about to give up all hope, you stumbled upon your box of toys Bakugou had used the other night on you. all sorts of fun things were in there and each one got plenty of use. while he prided himself on being more than enough to satisfy you, he was more than happy to experiment and have fun.

hmm, experiment?

that one thought sent you spiraling. you wouldn’t be able to get any new toys, and a new sex position was boring enough. a new kink needed to be experimented with. it was backbreaking work to get Bakugou to listen to you in the bedroom, but you knew with the right tools, combined with his frustration, it just might work.

your plan was thankfully enacted only a few short hours later. Bakugou, finishing a shower, had exited the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low over his hips, his happy trail curly and glistening from the water on his body. you had found your favorite orange lingerie, the color similar to his hero costume, lacy in all the right places and hugging your frame deliciously.

“well, well, well, what do we have here?” you heard his husky voice approach you, tracing his finger appreciatively over the fabric.

“what we have here is a stress reliever. i know you’ve been anxious about being pent up in here. so have i, so i figured we might have a little bit of fun tonight, try something new.”

you stood up slowly, the fabric rustling as you reached up to cup his face in your hand, bringing your lips together in a soft kiss. you began backing him up to the bed until his knees hit the mattress and he sat down with a soft thud. you followed his body, pushing him back until he was flat on his back, crawling over him, feeling the hardness of his cock through the towel that was dangerously close to falling off.

you positioned yourself so you were level with his eyes, leaning down to ghost your lips over his ear, whispering, “do you remember our safe word?”

he nodded in response, too lost on the way you felt on top of him.

“good, because you’re going to need it.”

you got up without warning, reaching towards the bottom of the bed where you pulled out your toys, skimming your fingers over the various rubber and plastic figures, hand settling on a bottle of lube.

“what are you up to?” he asked, unusually meek sounding.

“do you trust me?”

“yes,” he responded instantly, breath hitched as he watched you continue to rummage around the box, pulling out both the blindfold and a long forgotten strap on, something that you had kept hidden for quite some time and never had the chance to use it. but tonight, tonight you would ravish your boyfriend.

you only nodded out in response as you brought the items over, dropping them on the bed unceremoniously.

“sit up,” you commanded, crooking a finger towards Bakugou.

he obliged without question, though his face looked like he had a thousand he wanted to ask. you pulled the blindfold slowly over his eyes, running your fingers up through his hair as you straddled him, effectively removing the towel from his waist, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his neck, biting and sucking as you went along.

Bakugou was unusually quiet, only breathing heavily. you placed a hand over his heart and felt that it was racing.

“are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

“fuck no. i mean, yes, shit, i’m okay,” he answered.

you only hummed in response, continuing your worship of his body, feeling the way his pulse jumped as you bit down on a sensitive point on his neck. you pushed him back down again on the bed, this time adjusting him so his head was on a pillow and his body was fully laying down. when he was fully settled, you adjusted yourself so you were straddling his head, lingerie pulled to the side and cunt dripping in anticipation of what was about to go down.

“i need to hear you beg,” you stated simply, looking down to see his reaction.

“i think i should be telling you that,” he retorted with a cheeky grin.

“oh no sweetheart. i can take care of myself better than you, i think.”

with that statement in mind, one of your hands found its way to your cunt, experimentally flicking your aching bud, collecting the juices and going back in, harsher this time. your whines and the sloshing sounds of your pussy were all the indication Bakugou needed to know what you were doing. he brought one hand up to attempt to bring you down but you swatted it away, continuing to tease him as you teased yourself.

“no touching. not until i hear you beg.”

you whined at the feeling of your own fingers against your clit, rocking yourself to create more friction.

when Bakugou scoffed and tried again, you slapped his face, hard.

“i said beg.”

if you were able to see Bakugou’s eyes, you would’ve known that his pupils were blown wide with lust and desire. while he often wanted, no needed, to take control, this was nice, he had to admit.

“yes, mistress. please let me taste you, please,” you heard him, a whiney undertone to his sultry tone.

you immediately lowered yourself onto his face, murmuring how good of a boy he was as you felt his tongue lick up all your slick. his hands came experimentally up to your waist, wanting to see if you would swat him away, but when you only encouraged him, he gripped tighter, almost as if you were his anchor.

you continued to ride his face, praising him and yelping his name, getting lost in your own high. with one swift slap to your ass, he commanded you to cum and you did, leaking all over his face. he licked up every inch, hungry as a dog for your essence.

when you came down from your high, you tutted, upset at how he flipped the situation around so easily. you removed yourself from his face as he pulled off the blindfold, hair wild from you grabbing it.

“get on all fours,” you commanded, eyes blazing fiercely in the dim light from the bathroom that he forgot to turn off.

“what? why?”

“if you want to act like a dog, barking out commands, acting like you’re starving for my pussy, then you’ll get fucked like a dog. on all fours, now.”

when he didn’t comply immediately, you yanked his body to the edge of the bed, flipping his body over and sticking his ass in the air. Bakugou was too dumbfounded to realize what was going on, not even realizing that you had the strength to manhandle him, but before he could regain his composure, he felt something warm and sticky on his asshole.

you had warmed up the lube in your fingers around his ass, watching as the hole puckered around nothing. slowly, you inserted one finger, watching for signs of pain, but all you saw was a confused yet extremely pleased face. experimentally, you crooked the finger around, in and out, watching as Bakugou’s breath quickened and his hands fisted the sheets.

you pulled your finger out, smirking as he whined at the loss of your digit but quickly realized what was coming as you began inserting two fingers back into his fluttering hole. he gritted his teeth at the intrusive feeling but quickly relaxed as you continued to pump in and out of him, scissoring to loosen him up, applying more lube to keep things safe and pleasurable.

once you were satisfied with your work, you removed your fingers, wiping them haphazardly on the sheets, not caring. right now, you were too excited about what you were going to do to your boyfriend. he looked so innocent, eyes boring pleadingly into your own. you were so used to being dominated, tossed around like a ragdoll, and though you never really complained because Bakugou always took care of you, it was an exhilarating feeling to be in control of someone usually so stubborn and hard headed.

you lubed up the strap on, warming it up in your hands. it felt awkward on your body, but you took a few experimental thrusts in the air and got the hang of it quite quickly.

“hurry up already and fuck me,” Bakugou half pleaded half demanded.

without hesitation, you raised your palm and smacked his ass, hearing him hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“you’ll get fucked, don’t you worry.”

slowly, you lined the tip up to his ass, watching as he shook it in the air, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. you pushed the tip towards his waiting hole, feeling immediate resistance.

“relax baby. i’ll take care of you, i promise.”

you continued to push, making sure to take your time, until you felt the strap on bottom out, sinking into his gaping hole. amazement crossed your face as you watched the fake dick slide in and out of him, as you watched Bakugou clench up and then release all the tension in his body. soft whines and pants were heard from your boyfriend and you watched as he began thrusting himself back on your cock.

“i’ll go faster if i hear you beg,” you cooed, tracing your fingers down his back and over the curve of his ass, smacking it once more and then soothingly rubbing circles over the now red skin.

“fu-ugh, nnh please fuck me. please fuck me so hard (y/n), mistress, ma’am, fuck, i’ll call you whatever, just fuck me.”

you arched your brows in shock over hearing your boyfriend beg so freely, but who were you to deny a pretty man with a pretty ass? picking up your pace, you began slamming into Bakugou again, telling him how good he was doing, how pretty he was, how good he felt.

he seemed to appreciate the words, whining and stuttering through his emotions, too caught up in his own pleasure to be able to string coherent sentences together. you continued to thrust in and out, building up a sweat but enjoying the sounds and sights of your boyfriend being demolished to even really notice. you felt him tense up, his whines getting louder, and with a cry, he came, sticky ropes of cum shooting out onto the sheets. he collapsed on the bed not soon after, too spent to even care about laying in his own load.

you carefully pulled out, watching as his hole puckered and clenched around the sudden emptiness. you removed the strap on, throwing it on the floor and crawling onto your boyfriend, laying your slick body on his own.

“how was that?” you asked, hopeful yet concerned.

“s’fucking good,” he mumbled back, still reeling from what had just happened.

once he gained his breath back and his senses, you clambered off of him and plopped down, too tired to care. he got on all fours and slowly climbed over to you, pulling you into a searing kiss, murmuring his thanks against your lips.

when he pulled away, you saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant he was up to no good. you gulped in anticipation, waiting with baited breath for what he was about to say.

“you know princess, you really surprised me tonight. hell, i even surprised myself. but tomorrow, tomorrow i will get back at you.”

you looked up at him through hooded lids, lashes batting innocently as you pondered what he had in store.

“i know you’ve asked before if we could try some riskier kinks. i’ve been hesitant because i wasn’t sure you could handle it, but after tonight, i know better. you showed me tonight that i belonged to you,” he started, chuckling at the thought,” but tomorrow, i’ll carve my fucking name into your back, just so you’ll know that you really belong to me.”

your pussy clenched immediately at the thought, eyes open wide at his suggestion. sure, you had fantasized about, er, riskier kinks but never had you thought he would agree. maybe, you thought, maybe this quarantine won’t be such a bad thing.

TAGS: @redbeanteax @softforshigi

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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amachaheadcanons · 3 years

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Do you think the cast of Danganronpa v3 is chilling and vibin' in heaven? What happens to Rantaro and Tenko in the afterlife. Do they form a ghost relationship?

˚ᆺ˚

I've...actually never considered-- Um-- OMG YES!!!! AMACHA GHOST/AFTERLIFE AU FTW!!!!!

Or- OR. Instead of waking up the cast asap and shocking their system immediately, Team DR instigated level "limbo" as a way to ease the participants back into their real bodies. Slowly.

OKOKOK

Tenko would definitely be salty at first and seek out vengeance, however, I feel like Kiyo would be in hell due to his crimes but instead let's just say the kids are in limbo whilst the killing game is going on. . . yeah. Like a period of time to ease the deceased back into reality without simply awakening them and rendering them mentally and physically paralysed from the cruel reality they imposed on themselves!

She shakes and throws Kiyo to teach him a lesson whenever she gets close enough. Kaede and Kirumi stop her as much as they can but eventually stop trying due to her incredible persistence and the fact that it doesn't hurt him it's just time-consuming.

She pays no mind to Rantaro and Ryoma, considering they were victims. Excluding the odd degenerate comment here and there. Still harbouring some lingering hostility towards Angie.

She spies on Himiko and is happy to see her loosen up and begin her character arc. But is painfully aware of the fact they might never see each other ever again. She's rooting for her from the bottom of her heart so it's a bittersweet realisation.

Kaede still tries to help Tenko get over her bias, following around Shuichi and dragging Tenko along so she can witness his goodness. Eventually, Kaede gets tired of Tenko tarnishing his name so she turns to Rantaro as a live example. Often catching him being charismatic or really focused on something with that cute expression.

Considering they're probably going to spend eternity together, Rantaro's keen to form a bond. She throws him for being so casual about it. He doesn't mind cuz it's kinda fun. He just floats in a circle and back in front of her. Gravity in limbo is similar to on the moon only they can float. And the windy feeling when her hands brush against his limbs is really cool.

He apologises for not taking her more seriously and reintroduces himself adding, "C'mon, shake my hand, my soul's as transparent as ever," and "I'm not going anywhere Chabashira-san, no point holding a grudge into the afterlife,"

She's very stubborn at first, but considering how peaceful the living cast are, Tenko slowly realises this may potentially be the only people she'll be able to make amends with before passing into...hopefully, heaven.

Angie gets tired of the hostility and says the only way to enter heaven is to make amends. Kaede lies with good intentions, hoping her agreeance will push Tenko in the right direction.

It's a slow process until Miu is found dead. Tenko attempts to cling to the inventor, lacking protective malice as she learns there was no way to harm the searching soul. Miu acts normally and demands some alone time, complaining about Tenko's clingy nature and slips a, "Don't you get it Chabashitstain?! This is why Yusmello ran off with Yonorganism!"

Tenko starts distancing herself after that. Miu is mildly excluded until she makes it up to Tenko. Tenko verbally insists she forgives Miu. Deep down she can't hate a girl, though Angie & Miu were tempting that moral of hers.

Kaede attempts to console Tenko, followed by Kirumi, Angie, Miu, Hoshi then Gonta. But to no anvil. Gonta's pretty good at consoling too but it didn't sway her. She's startled by Gonta so much so, she throws him, along with assumptions of his murderous intent. The girl's groan in unison at her lack of hearing and self-centred nature before filling her in on how Kokichi manipulated the situation.

Tenko began to feel more and more alone despite the growing number of interactivity.

Rantaro grows concerned and bold, attempting a method unused thus far. "Chabashira-san, when you fell off a tree for the first time, did it scare you into trying again?"

"When your Sensei defeated you in a match time and time again, did you falter in challenging him again?" "How does Amami know th--" "Tenko, when you failed to throw your opponent over your shoulder, would you stop there and let the aggressor roam free?" "Of course not! Don't insult Ten--" "Then what's making you give up now??"

Cue Rantaro and his amazing words of conflicting. Being able to gently corner people with what they needed to face. "Don't run away from your emotions. Take your own advice and be honest with yourself. What else is there left for us?"

He reached her when everybody else lacked the knowledge and experience to touch her weeping heart. She starts reinviting herself into open discussions. Progress.

Tenko observes and attempts to understand the boys for the first time ever. She finds herself following Rantaro around the massive campus. Considering he's still trying to piece together the mastermind of such a grand scheme. They bond over their search. She gets to know him. And the other boys due to Rantaro being so friendly and charismatic.

By the time Kokichi joins them she's instinctively distant but Rantaro again has a soft spot for the misunderstood ones. Rantaro's kindness is so large it makes Tenko weak and frustrated. Suddenly, she worries he'll fall into Kokichi's trap. She starts worrying and watching his back silently.

Angie "gets a hint from the Gods" and starts shipping them. After a few funny comments from Angie, Kaede and Kirumi are on board. It's entertaining watching the almighty Aikido master blush, stutter, trip over nothing and float aimlessly despite her persistent walking and attempt to perfect her form.

Kaito quickly jumps on the bandwagon and suddenly their relationship is the most interesting thing that can link the kids to some form of normalcy. It was a good distraction from the pressing matters of the killing game.

Rantaro is none the wiser. However, when Kaede pushes Tenko to befriend Kaito and he notices her genuinely trying to find interest in conversing with the space-enthused boy...he's conflicted. He's proud of watching her progress unfold and honoured he took part in it, yet, feels a pang of tightness when seeing everyone boast about their blossoming friendship.

Considering Rantaro doesn't hear the teasing and gossip about Tenko's potential struggle. And upon noticing Tenko avoiding him oftentimes, he grows jealous. However, this makes the time she spends with him alone willingly, appear all the more special. He appreciates their friendship and confesses one night during training... "You've come a long way in the past month Tenko, I'm very impressed. Be proud of yourself. I know I am."

Somehow, his words make her chest tight. "I'm honoured to call you a friend."

Kokichi "boo"s him, the little eavesdropper. Angie slaps his mouth shut, Kaede scolds him, while Miu continues to embarrass the couple attempting to join their living comrades in their nightly training.

This however starts the tradition of the dead training alongside the living. Being with them in spirit and whatnot.

Tenko's bias dies down a lot in the span of 4 chapters. And when the truth is revealed to the deceased cast in the grand finale. The deceased cast is forced to awaken after Kiibo's blinding sacrifice. Tenko awakens with hasty breaths, demanding to see her friends. All of them. Boys included. Not allowing anything to take them away from her.

If Kirumi's the mum of the group, Tenko's definitely the overprotective big sister once she reaches her character arc.

I like this idea, it brings a little more hope to the despair. Plus I like the idea of them all being friends in the afterlife cuz there's no more threats or stress.

#amacha #amacha headcanons #rantaro x tenko #tenko x rantaro #rantaro amami #amami rantaro #chabashira tenko #pre game tenko chabashira #ndrv3 #text #headcanons #fanfic style #fanfic #headcanon set #pansexual tenko

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otonymous · 3 years

Text

Prisoner Of Love (Ikesen Kenshin - NSFW)

Description: Can two victims of circumstance find their way to love? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for the first half of Kenshin’s MS. Potential trigger warnings: angst, imprisonment, mild mentions of injuries, self-harm and death, self-loathing, anxiety, possessiveness (it IS Kenshin after all 🤣), slight dub-con elements, profanity, vaginal intercourse, squirting Word Count: ~3100 words (~17 minutes of angst and smut) Author’s Notes: Sending out a super giant thank you to the incredibly kind and gracious @azuchi-princess for commissioning this Kenshin piece from me. I cannot tell you how honoured I am to have been entrusted with writing for your husbando! 🥰💕 It was an absolutely wonderful process working with you, and I’m so glad to have been able to indulge in my need for angst and smut at the same time!

(SPOILER ALERT!) This story takes place shortly after Kenshin has MC (read: YOU!) placed behind bars as his “spoils of war,” but I have taken creative license in altering the events that occur afterwards. Moreover, the perspective shifts between that of the reader’s and Kenshin’s in the hopes of delivering that optimal punch of angst 👊🏼🤣

Please note the warnings listed above — especially the potential triggers — and avoid this read if anything makes you uncomfortable. Otherwise, dear readers, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece! 💕

Chapter I (Kenshin’s POV)

Betrayal.

Cutting deeper than the sharpest blade.

Unforgiving like Himetsuru-Ichimonji, severing the red string of fate as quickly as it is drawn from its scabbard.

So why was it that Kenshin still couldn’t bring himself to hate her?

Footsteps echoing along stone walls in the bowels of Kasugayama Castle — the very place where he had her cast behind bars — Kenshin wanders, trapped in a hell from which there was no escape.

For the confines of the mind were impervious to even the God of War’s sharpened steel.

And in between each beat of his thunderous heart, he hears her: gentle tears rolling down that delicate face to fall on packed earth, the ground’s inhospitable chill reaching up through limbs to rob even the final vestiges of warmth from bone. Her every shuddering breath is a weight upon his chest, suffocating until Kenshin clings to the reins of reason holding him back from storming her cell like a madman, animated solely by the fire commanding him to see, to touch…

…to love her.

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kenshin’s knuckles blanch whiter than his already pale skin when he slows to a stop. Round the corner and there she’ll be.

Woman of the Oda. The Devil King’s own.

She, who had lied in the same breath that commiserated with him as they waited for Sasuke’s return. She, whose tears left him dazzled, catching the light of the fire like precious stones even as their salt stung, seeping into his open wounds. She, who had held his hand within her own, caring not about sullying her perfect skin with his tainted blood.

Because tainted is what he is. It is what he deserves.

And yet, he can’t help but see the moonlight in her gaze, shimmering like a spectre every time he closes his eyes. Can’t stop himself from desiring the tender warmth of her smile. Still wonders at her fearless bravado in the face of a man who brought nothing but death and destruction upon friend and foe alike.

Isehime.

No.

No, he will not see her, Kenshin thinks, gaze frosting over as he wills the ice in his veins to freeze a heart he no longer wanted to feel. He walks away, forcing himself to believe that the sound of her sorrow growing faint was nothing more than mice in the walls.

Chapter II (Reader’s POV)

Ethereal moons beckon from scrolls depicting each of the four seasons — resplendent colours discordant against the drab stone walls on which they hang.

Cherry blossoms flutter against gold-foil skies; delicate petals frozen in time as they float across a folding screen.

Even the futon in the corner of your cell seemed fit for a princess at court, much more luxurious than the one in which you had slept at Azuchi.

The Dragon of Echigo had took it upon himself to see that his spoils of war would want for nothing, and yet he would deny you the one thing you truly desired:

The man himself.

Sasuke, Shingen and Yukimura would visit — sometimes together, sometimes in turn — graciously sharing their company for which you were so starved. Your ninja friend swore with as much emotion as he could muster to do anything and everything possible to persuade his lord to release you, or at the very least, agree to see you. Yukimura couldn’t stop shaking his head, the expression on his face indignant to see you treated thus, ‘boar woman’ though you were. As for Lord Shingen, he likened you to a bird in a gilded cage, trying to tempt you with offers of freedom and a ready smile on his face that surely would’ve moved any woman to see it…

…any woman but you, that is.

For in your eyes, there was only ever Kenshin — the man who came to your rescue time and time again without knowing your true identity. Intoxicating like the finest sake, each and every moment spent by his side became a precious embrace of a memory, emblazoned in your mind until it was impossible to forget:

The black cape that flowed from broad shoulders like a powerful wave, trailing behind him that night he saved you from those thugs in Azuchi. The way your feet dragged behind his footsteps, moving slow just to watch him cut swift through tall grass with all the seasoned grace of a dancer. His porcelain skin glowing from within as if lit by the light of his own moon.

And in his eyes…sorrow as unfathomable as the sea was deep, rising like smoke from sapphire and emerald in those rare moments the Dragon of Echigo let down his guard. But alas, no more.

You had broken his trust.

How many nights have you lain awake, seeking out pinprick stars through the sliver of window high above your prison and thinking about how things might have been different? What if you had disclosed your relationship with the Oda at the very start? Would the press of the cold steel of his blade be more of a consolation against your neck than the heartbreak spreading from chest to limb every time you lay down to sleep?

Sleep?

No, that was not forthcoming these days — rest a luxury you couldn’t afford until the moment you could face Kenshin for yourself and tell him that you never meant to hurt him, never meant to lie. That though Nobunaga found you first, you had no ulterior motive in approaching Kenshin other than the fact that you…you…

…simply couldn’t stay away.

No matter what anyone tried to say about him.

For even on the battlefield, every nerve singed as the stench of freshly spilt blood filled your nostrils, you still couldn’t tear your gaze from the one they revered as the God of War. Like an immortal stepping from an unfurling scroll, Kenshin moved with the fluid grace of a master painter wielding his brush, completely at one with his sword as he dispatched his enemies with a precision that terrified and awed all at once.

And when he held you in his arms that night — the same hand which had claimed countless lives bleeding into your own as you clasped it in prayer for Sasuke’s safe return — you had felt no fear; only the wish that time would stretch into eternity so that you might forever have him near.

“Kenshin.”

You say his name once…twice…the syllables rolling off your tongue to echo down the hallway like a ghost, lonely and forgotten in the dungeons of Kasugayama Castle. What was freedom to you when you couldn’t bear to break the shackles chaining you to a god who would never look your way again?

Chapter III (Kenshin’s POV)

“Kenshin.”

Her voice halts him in his tracks, one hand shooting out to rest upon the cool stone wall as Kenshin bolsters himself against the sudden weakness in his knees. When was the last time he heard her speak his name? Had it always sounded so melodic, caressing up the spine to curl gently upon the lobe of his ear?

That she is calling for him at a time when she should’ve been fast asleep is a source of elation and anxiety all at once, She is thinking of me tempered by the dread in knowing that she wasn’t getting the rest her body needed. And slowly, slowly…the scales start to tip: if she didn’t sleep, she’d become too exhausted to eat. And without eating, she would…

…die.

The nightmare would begin anew. Except this time, it would be her blood on Kenshin’s hands, spilling crimson over the scars left behind by Isehime’s lifeless body.

She’ll slip away from you like the other, the voice in his head chastises, full of malice as darkness begins unfurling from the corners of his mind, tightening the vice in his chest. They come hard and fast, thoughts tangling one over the other like a labyrinth of vines from which there was no escape:

Poison runs through your veins. Loving her would only doom the girl to misfortune and regret.

If she is not yours, could you possibly surrender her to anyone else?

You cannot outrun your curse. All those you hold dear will end up like Isehime: sleeping in the cold earth.

No one must lay eyes on her beauty, witness her elegance, know of the rare flower blooming in the depths of this dungeon.

No one but you.

Fist pulling back, Kenshin releases the full force of his strength in a punch to the wall. Bruised bone and shredded skin send blistering pain to interrupt the cacophony in his head, silence reigning supreme once more until

“Kenshin?”

…she calls for him again, voice coloured with anticipation this time. He hears a shuffle, sees her in his mind’s eye — throwing off the covers of her bedding to press against the bars, straining to peek around the wooden slats that kept her from freedom. Kept her from him.

“Please, Kenshin…is that you?”

He knows not why he does it, body moving before his mind is even aware. Kenshin had managed to make his way to her cell undetected every night since he put her there, standing silent in shadowy corners just to watch her sleep, allowing the rise and fall of her breath to soothe him with the knowledge that she was still very much alive. But now, in a single moment of thoughtlessness, he had thrown it all away.

She gasps to finally see him and even the sound of that is beautiful, resonating clear like the note of an expertly plucked koto. His gaze falls on her tightened grip around the bars, follows the solitary tear gathering starlight as it rolls down her cheek. And when her eyes widen in horror to look upon the state of his injured hand, Kenshin feels it:

A shift deep within, barely perceptible but wholly significant, like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen stream.

And the rush of waters that follows drowns the lovers in a flood from which neither was capable of nor willing to escape.

Chapter IV (Reader’s POV)

Perhaps he really was a god, answering every prayer that ever slipped past noiseless lips to materialize before you in that prison. His white kimono is pristine beneath that black cloak, as if emphasizing the sanctity of his being, the unalterable distance between Uesugi Kenshin and a mere mortal such as yourself. But then the rivulets of red run down that swollen hand to tell you otherwise; the revelation bittersweet because maybe now, there was a way for you to be together, complicated though circumstances were.

So you reach for him through the bars and he complies, watching as you lay kisses upon bruised fingers, feeling the familiar sting of your tears as they seep into wounded flesh and broken hearts — full of sorrow, full of joy…and impossible to stop.

“Push me away.”

His voice is soft for the hard edges of his words. Head lifting, you meet those striking eyes, focused and still. Yet, you felt the storm brewing in those blue and green depths, turmoil barely concealed beneath the ice of his gaze. And there, standing before the man whose very blood stained your lips, you refuse.

Lightning flashes in those eyes and suddenly, his fingers are curling tight about the sleeve of your kimono, Kenshin pulling you close through the bars in one swift motion until the stilted rhythm of his breath is dancing hot over your skin.

“Say it. Say you hate me, that you want absolutely nothing to do with me. Do it now or else—”

“No. Never. How could I ever bring myself to hate the one I love—”

The grimace on his handsome face cuts you off, the great Dragon of Echigo trembling at the very word, love, like it was dirty, taboo. And as the final threads of control slip from his grasp, Kenshin is moving once more without thought — his body a slave to the dictates of the heart. Yanking on the ring of keys hanging from his tapered waist, Kenshin throws open the door to your cell and in an instant, he is by your side.

“Fine. Then I’ll make you hate me.”

His whisper is a promise.

The keys clatter as they’re thrown to the ground, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, deafening with every pounding beat of your heart to feel his lips on yours for the very first time. The insistent tongue pushing into your mouth carries a hint of sake, the fervour of his kiss leaving you intoxicated and desperate for more.

Long fingers thread through the silk of your hair, Kenshin’s grip gentle yet firm as he angles your head to deepen the kiss, bringing you closer and closer until the end of his exhalation marked the beginning of your next breath. And hadn’t it always been this way, you forever chasing after the mystery that was this beautifully broken man? The intensity of his want is a spell that bewitches, inexorably pulling you into the crucible of his desire, passion matching yours flame for burning flame until all else was extinguished.

Good and bad, right or wrong.

Words insignificant like ash in the face of this all-consuming love.

“Hate me,” Kenshin begs, teeth sinking into your lower lip until the taste of your blood mixed with his. “Please…or else I’ll never give you up.”

Open-mouthed kisses now trailing wet along the column of your neck, your fingers find purchase in his golden hair, pulling hard as you yield to the sensation of his breath moving lower and lower still. Kenshin groans, the sound resonating from deep within his chest to send a rush of heat that dampens the sacred space between your legs.

Body ready and heart set, your mind had been made up long ago. So you grasp onto those shoulders — broad and strong — to pull Kenshin up before you. And in the silent space between the beating of twin hearts, you say with a conviction so strong there could be no doubt,

“I am yours.”

The sound that catches in his throat is guttural, almost feral as those eyes of emerald and sapphire train on you with the intensity of a thousand suns. A sea of emotions flit across that handsome face, subtly shifting until one finally wins out:

Need.

You barely feel it though it must’ve taken considerable force to tear your obi off, the sumptuous kimono he gifted you with slipping from your shoulders as the God of War sets you upon the futon fit for a princess. Elegant even in haste, Kenshin disrobes with the grace of snow falling on frost-covered pine, revealing porcelain skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle that beckons to your every nerve.

And before the dungeon’s chill could rattle your bones, he gathers you into the heat of his embrace. Skin to skin, the arms wrapped around you tremble when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you so desperately, I-I don’t think I can hold back.”

Head falling back onto your pillow, you will Kenshin to see the sincerity, the surrender in the darkened gaze that reflects his very image.

“Then give me everything. I want…all that you are.”

It tears a breathless gasp from your lips, mouth drawn open in a silent scream when Kenshin fills you to the hilt with a single thrust — the thick, hard heat of his cock testing the limits of your body with its size. Equally skilled in bed as he was on the battlefield, the God of War is a force to be reckoned with, the swing of his hips graceful even as they connect with yours, ruthless in speed and intensity.

He moves within your body like he belongs, pulling out only to dive even deeper into slick depths until pleasure bloomed pink along your skin, the hardened tips of your breasts so enticing Kenshin couldn’t help but take them into his mouth in greedy turn as he continued thrusting, harder and faster until your legs began to shake.

“Oh god, Kenshin! You feel…so…good...ahh!—”

Pants and screams echo down darkened corridors, the sound of your pleasure in being taken this way resonating in the corners of every prison cell until you think to bite onto the sleeve of your kimono. But Kenshin just shakes his head, the sweat of exertion glistening on his body as his fingers move towards your mouth.

“No, I want…hmm…to hear you. Every sound you make is…precious to me. Let it out.”

With that, he removes the embroidered fabric, lips pressing to yours to swallow every licentious moan for himself as he props your legs up against his shoulders. All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the motion awakens sensations you never before knew existed.

Unable to scream with your lover’s tongue in your mouth, your body responds in the only other way it knew how: convulsing beneath Kenshin until he is forced to pull out, allowing a flood of your arousal to cascade past swollen lips, spilling down the insides of your thighs in a lewd display that wets the bedding beneath your entwined bodies. And yet,

“More. Please, Kenshin…I want more…”

…you were insatiable.

The sight, sound and smell of you so undone ignites a fire inside the warlord, his mind scrambled by lust. And when he slides into you once more, he fucks with absolute abandon, yearning for complete union even as he leaves you breathless to finally spill into your depths.

* * *

You awake to moonlight glowing soft beyond shoji screens and the rhythm of a heartbeat, measured and slow beneath your ear. The robe you wore was fresh and soft; vague recollections of Kenshin gently caressing your fatigued body with a washcloth filtering in and out of your thoughts. At some point, he must’ve carried you to his chambers, sleeping now as you were upon his chest.

Lifting your head, you gaze at your lover in repose. It fills you with affection to see him — heart tightening to bind you to this man. And as his muscular arm winds about your waist, you knew you would forever be a willing prisoner to his love.

Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #uesugi kenshin #ikesen kenshin smut #ikesen smut #my writing #commission #azuchi-princess #thank you again my dear!#you are lovely to work with

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apprentice-maliya · 3 years

Text

soft and wounded and the night

pairing: asra/mali’ya cw: nightmares, amnesia word count: 3.4k song: solovey by go_a

In his dreams she’s always singing, though Mali’ya only hums.

I gathered the flowers, braided them into a wreath

She was facing him with her back in that memory, her attention to the sink while honey curls swayed gently under the green kerchief at every tilt of her head.

She’d let hair down, he noticed. That was rare. Once, she’d told him it would always get in the way when she was working.

Her hands washed the dishes in circular motions, slow and careful not to let one slip. Alone in her thoughts, Mali’ya breathes out the songs of her childhood in soft whispers and Asra wonders, each time they meet there, in the empty boundary between memory and reality, how could he ever forget that silvery sound?

He had heard her talk in her native language before, when she wasn’t yet fluent in Vesuvian and the confusion in her mind came out of her lips with frustration and embarrassment; he remembered the words being harsh and intricate and mysterious when she spoke to her aunt, words that crashed one against the other and merged together in a way so foreign to him that Asra could never completely understand.

But when Mali’ya sang, nothing else mattered anymore. All things faded out, all worries and thoughts, all shapes and colours; washed away by songs she knew by heart. It was then, only then, that Venterrean forgot all about its hardness, maybe lost to the water running down the sink or still lingering in her mouth in words of unspoken terrors.

Braided them into a wreath, the rue and the periwinkle flowers

Even after all that time, Asra could never really give a name to the feeling. He was sure, though, that there was nothing more enticing than the way Mali’ya’s voice would die out like candlelight.

After securing the last plate in the cupboard, Mali’ya turned to him with that indulgent smile of hers he so much loved.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” she asked with curiosity, thinking about the days he would overhear her from his booth on the other side of the backroom’s wall, her own bedroom at the time. “It’s not the loveliest song. Or language, even.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early

Shaking his head no, Asra mirrored her smile from the kitchen table where he was sitting. “Actually,” he replied, lips up in a playful smirk, “It’s very, very lovely, if you ask me.”

Happiness was bright in the curve of her mouth as Mali’ya approached him, jade eyes dissolving for a moment into a line of thin golden lashes, pressed down in disagreement under her furrowed brows. He couldn’t help it. Instinctively, perhaps a bit too eagerly (but who was he to deny her?), the moment she made way between his parted legs to get closer and her hands ran up to cup his face, Asra leaned in to meet her touch.

Oh, how he’d missed this. The gentle palms, and the smallest hint of calluses on her fingertips; her thighs, too, which he held on to steadily, still so soft and welcoming as he remembered them. The scent of her freckled skin, something faintly floral, embracing him from every angle like a protection charm.

Carding her fingers through his hair in a way that it would give her free access, Mali’ya bent down to lay a kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, and Asra tilted his head up to welcome what would come next.

So Mali’ya kissed him with no hesitation, her lips on his and his heart on a sleeve, the beats loud and attuned to hers, to the song her aura let out when their souls would meet.

It felt so right, it always did. It was the place to be. Always, forever, as long their bodies would last before turning to dust.

She smiled into the kiss and slowly began to pull away, while the smell of rain gathered gently around them. It was the same as when she enchanted her chamomile tea before going to bed, Asra recalled, hoping that the memories wouldn’t come back to devour her in her sleep; the same as when she found out about the kids, and healed the wounds on their knees with a simple ghosting of her fingertips. It was the smell of storms and worry, but she always looked hopeful when it rained.

I’ll stop soon, and you’ll be able to play outside again, she would tell Luz.

Asra wraps his arms around her. The song echoes,

My heart can’t feel good about this

Don’t go. Don’t go.

“Asra,” Mali’ya called, tender as ever. Any tinge of joy in her voice was gone already; and although she was trying to sound serene, and he couldn’t see the sadness in her eyes, he just knew it was there. He had learnt everything about her during the time they’d spent together; every gesture, every change in her behaviour when she would push aside what she truly wanted. And Asra knew this was for his sake alone, too. He’d been foolish to hope things could change; as if nothing could ever change, at last in his memories.

So he kept quiet.

Her hands were still caressing his nape when Mali’ya spoke again. “You have to wake up, love,” she murmured, returning his hug just as urgently.

She rarely called him that, Asra thought. Because she had grown up believing love was to be found in the little things, those unnoticeable acts of service towards the ones she cherished, Mali’ya had never been one for pet names or clamorous displays of affection. She would rather trust, offer, provide; pour her heart into everything she touched.

Love.

Four silly letters for one silly word. Asra still remembered a time before her in which it was just a meaningless concept he and Muriel did not dare to share with the world. But when she called him that, she made it sound like the poets had been right all along.

“You know you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He sounds like a whiny brat, of that much he’s aware. He holds her closer. Can’t they just go back to being kids? Can’t he make it right once and for all, can’t he make up for what he had destroyed with his own selfishness? Mali’ya squeezes her arms around him one last time.

In the distance, someone sings a song of longing and fear.

“Take care, love,” is her parting whisper.

Then Asra blinked and she was gone again, like smoke, bringing any trace of sunlight away with her. It was as if she’d never been there. As if he’d abandoned her once more. Shut her out. The one that had tiptoed so gently into his world, cradled his heart and soul in her hands asking nothing in return. She, Mali’ya, who was made of chopped roots and timid branches and radiated so much warmth he could drown in it. He’d taken her for granted from day one, apparently, because there was never a time in which she’d beg him to stay.

As though all strength had been drained from him, Asra leaned in on the table as the room dissolved around him, arms covering his face and fingers gripping his hair in a punishing hold because you killed her, Asra. You killed her and she’s never coming back. Never. And it’s all your fault.

It gets cold in the nightmare. The wind howls, scentless and cold, and this time the whiffs don’t carry any songs with them. Asra stays still. There are no tears he can cry; he dried them all a long ago, digging his hands until they bled on the black shores of the Lazaret.

If it hadn’t been for you, Mali’ya would still be alive. Breathing.

It took him but a second to put a face to the voice echoing in the void of his mind. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before, because now Mrs Heralia sounds angry, and disappointed, and her thick accent makes way among the words like it’s meant to stab him through his heart. And she would have all the reasons to do so.

Why did you leave, Asra? Why did you leave my niece alone? You promised you’d take care of her on my behalf. I entrusted her to you. Tell me, do you have any idea of what she must have gone through while you were away, warm and healthy and very much alive? Do you, Asra?

The voice was growing louder in his ears. Asra felt like his head was about to explode, but it was a blessing that his teacher wasn’t real, not physically there to make him stare into her soul and force him see all the hurt he’d caused to her only niece— The same he saw in his eyes every time he looked at himself in the mirror, a pretty wicked thing worn out by selfishness and anguish.

“I— I never wanted to— I thought she would—”

That she would come after you when you left? Oh, but do you know why she didn’t? Can’t you possibly imagine why she stayed?

Heralia let out a sigh, low and disappointed. Sharp. Asra could tell she was aiming for her killing blow.

Has she ever meant something to you more than a shadow that would follow you everywhere and console you in the dark?

Water gathered in Asra’s throat, setting it aflame as an apology fought its way out. He jumped up, forgetting about the chair he was sitting on; which, without making a single sound, fell quickly into the darkness rising at the edge of his consciousness.

No, he meant to tell his teacher. A last defence against the hatred dripping from her chin. She was more than that, so much more. But a choked sob came out instead, before another followed, and another, and another...

Suddenly he feels like a child again, out in the cold. Alone. Mrs Heralia has vanished, too, and in the wide, scary unknown around him that’s slowly drifting from pitch-black to candid shades of white, Asra feels it; death’s touch like ragged paper on his skin, passing him by, so his lungs are full of air again and his heart pumps louder in his chest. It could be heaven, just floating around aimlessly in pure light.

The first thing he hears is the familiar sound of cutlery clinking before him.

Asra opened his eyes, waking up to the small kitchenette on the shop’s first floor. Nothing had changed a bit since he came back from… Well, he couldn’t really remember. But small bouquets of dried herbs still hung above the stove, where the salamander was sleeping soundly, and familiar, colourful jars filled the cramped shelves.

Then he hears her. She’s singing, of course she is. She’s calling him back to her. And she must’ve been so close he thinks, maybe climbing up the stairs or folding some clothes in the other room, because her voice was all around him and he would have looked for her everywhere if only the kitchen hadn’t started spinning like crazy, merging colours and shapes and taking his breath away in heavy gasps—

In the end, like always, the dream takes over the memory too quickly to linger anymore. So Asra gives up. There’s no hope to win against his guilt, to pacify it once and for all. And he’s so tired. Tired of wishing for her to remember him. Or what they had. Her past, their past, the days spent together climbing trees and learning magic and holding hands. He’s tired of trying.

Asra falls in the cold, again, curled up in the white nothingness around him.

Take care, love.

That voice again. Just now, someone was calling out to him in the distance. But who? And from… where…?

All of sudden, memory and sleep parted from him. The cold, too, had disappeared. There was something warm and delicate holding his face, though he couldn’t tell what. It was soft and a bit rough around the edges, shaped like it was meant to be cradling him, and strangely enough, the air smelled like damp soil after a long night’s rain. His body felt heavier than before as well, out of his dream-like state, while his lungs still struggled to catch up with his frantic pants.

“Master? Can you hear me? I’m here, Master. You’re safe— Please, please wake up.”

A hand, that was it, carded through his bangs, pushing them aside so that his forehead could freshen up. As a matter of fact, he did feel a bit hot. Asra slowly cracked his eyes open to take in his surroundings.

He was in their bedroom. It was probably late night, or maybe early enough for the sun to rise. Not like he could tell. Fireflies swirled silently around him—no, not fireflies, but tiny spheres of light. Gentle hands cupped his face, thumbs slowly stroking his cheekbones.

A few inches above him, Mali’ya let out a long, relieved sigh. She was kneeling on the floor, probably feeling a little sore by now, nonetheless she smiled reassuringly in his direction. Her braids were messy, Asra noticed. A few golden strands curled on her cheeks, framing her eyes. How could anyone be so beautiful?

“It’s okay,” she murmured, a bit startled the moment their eyes interlocked. Asra couldn’t really see it, his vision hazy from the dream, but he knew of the hint of a blush that was about to spread on her face at the sudden realisation of their close, if intimate, proximity. Despite that, she didn’t pull away. If anything, Mali’ya’s aura grew warmer. “It was just a nightmare.”

Asra propped himself up on one elbow, but regretted it immediately. To leave him more space to move and stretch, her hands intertwined on her lap.

“’M sorry I woke you,” he blurted out, still fighting the remnants of sleep.

Mali’ya shook her head as to shush him, lips still up in the gentlest smile. “Don’t say that,” she coaxed him, but then she stopped, unsure, fidgety fingers playing with the hem of her nightgown. “Is there anything I can do? Like…”

Staring at her with an expectant look, Asra felt his heart flutter. He couldn’t help it, not with her being so thoughtful and sweet in her shyness.

“Like a cup of tea. Or I can brew you some chamomile, if you want, or...” Jade eyes pierced right through him like arrows from Cupid’s quiver, soft and sincere and always, always agonizing to stare into. “Would you like… a hug?”

Asra sat up, fully awake now, smiling teasingly as he raised an eyebrow. “A hug. You sure make it sound important, do you?”

“You always hug me when I have nightmares,” Mali’ya replied, not taking any of his playful tone, although the red deepening on her cheeks said a lot about the embarrassment coming from his remark. “Fine,” she sighed, stumbling back up to walk to the kitchenette. “The tea will do.”

Asra chuckled. She’d never been comfortable with displays of affection, had she? Even before this whole mess it had taken her a while to step out her bubble and hold his hand just because, or kiss him on a whim, let alone anything like listening to her body when the words would fail them. And Asra had been happy, oh, so happy to witness the rewarding growth of her blooming confidence.

When he stepped into the small kitchen, Mali’ya was already crouched down beside the stove. She was saying something in a quiet whisper, looking apologetic, and a moment later she got up to pick a flower from the ones he’d brought her from the forest a couple of days ago, for her to dry. She knelt down again, offering a wild amaryllis to the salamander, and beamed.

“Thanks. And sorry for troubling you, little one.”

“He must have a soft spot for you,” Asra pointed out as he sat at the table. “I never seem to bribe him right.”

Mali’ya let out a small laugh, adjusting the teapot on the stove. “Oh, it’s not hard to please him. After all, everybody wants to be pampered once in a while.”

Resting his chin on the inside of his hand, Asra hummed quietly. “So do I get to be pampered, too?”

There is a thin line between this and mere selfishness, he thinks, but his heart speaks before his mind can catch up and properly elaborate his thoughts.

“Will you sing for me?”

Abruptly, Mali’ya stopped in her tracks, her hand coming down from the shelf where their cups rested. She didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, I… I can’t think of any songs.”

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

Asra felt his heart sink in his chest. “No, it’s—”

“Do you… do you have any suggestions? They say you can make a song out of anything.”

She still wasn’t looking at him, now busying herself with the steam rising from the pot, but the resolve in her voice was strong as ever. From the moment she’d first woken up from her slumber, Mali’ya had made so much progress; she was curious, determined to learn and catch up to normalcy, and stopped at nothing. There was always a way with her. She’d always been like that.

“Master?” she called out to him, their mugs in hand, and Asra quickly snapped back to reality.

“You remember the song,” he started, carefully threading each word so as not to prompt one of her devastating headaches. “That I would sing to you when you couldn’t sleep? It’s been a while, though, you probably—”

“The one about the lovers and the nightingale. Yes,” Mali’ya cut in, gently pouring the tea in his cup before filling hers. She nodded, then handed him the honey jar. “I remember that.” A small smile that barely revealed her dimples curved up her lips as she blew on the infusion. “It’s one of my favourites.”

“Ah,” Asra said. Was it just a coincidence? That she liked the same song she once used to love? His attention returned to the mug before him. “Is it?”

“Of course. You said you heard it from a traveller, right?”

“Something like that.”

Mali’ya looked down, pondering something. A tea leaf floated in the greenish drink in her hands, its corners burned by the hot water it had been thrown into. She tentatively took a sip. “Were they native? From—where does the song come from?”

“Venterre. I translated it,” Asra explained, though it wasn’t exactly how things had gone. There had once been a time in which he had been the one asking her to share the secrets of her mother tongue. A request Mali’ya couldn’t refuse him, no matter the difficulty of those foreign sounds. “And yes, they grew up there... but left at a young age.”

Mali’ya closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Hadn’t she been smiling in the while, Asra would’ve thought he’d said too much. So he did the same. “Something’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering, what does Venterrean sound like? I’ve never heard anybody speak it,” she confessed with a shrug, and took another sip from her cup. “Though I suppose it’s not the loveliest language.”

“It’s actually very, very lovely,” Asra replied.

Beyond the curtains the sun began to rise, idly bathing the kitchenette in its warm and golden light. Mali’ya still pondered something, chin on her palm as she looked over the window. And just like the first time they’d met, two strangers in the Market District fighting for their lives in their own way, Asra couldn’t stop looking at her as she glowed before his eyes, ethereal and strong and beautiful in the fiery red of dawn.

With a quick motion of his fingers he pinched the tip of her nose, causing Mali’ya to snap out of her train of thoughts. “I can teach you some words, if you so wish,” he suggested before taking a long sip, and lowering his gaze. “Although I must tell you, it’s not the easiest language either. It might take some time.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mali’ya shook her head, a smile carefully concealed between her lips. “We have plenty.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early My heart can’t feel good about this Nightingale, nightingale, what do I do now? I came to love him once—and cannot forget him.

#the arcana #asra alnazar #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #🏷 book i: mali’ya #💌 : can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland #i published this on here and ao3 like exactly one year ago does it ever draw you crazy how fast the night changes #dani writes

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girlsinoctober · 4 years

Text

Tell your man wait inside when i’m pullin’ up [e.p.]

emily prentiss x fem!reader

summary: she wanted you and she was going to have you, even with him in the way

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, mentions of adultery, slightly nsfw scene

gif belongs to rightful owner

Emily frustratedly tugged at her hair. She had gotten off of work nearly half-an-hour ago and she had yet to pull out of the parking lot or even turn her car on for that matter.

Her most recent serial killer case had taken a much greater toll on her than usual; she was frustrated, angered, exhausted even and looking for some form of emotional release.

Any other time she would call you without even hesitating. But it was late; almost two in the morning. She knew that by now you were in bed with your boyfriend having his arm wrapped around your waist. She knew that you were probably awake, annoyed by the sound of his snoring, and staring at the ceiling in the dark hoping he’d turn away from you in his sleep.

She wanted to see you. She wanted you in her bed, wrapped in her arms with nothing but the thin sheet between the two of you. She wanted to lay with you, tangled up until it was hard to tell the difference between your two bodies.

She felt selfish, after all she was the one that had pushed you away those months ago. She was the one that didn’t want to get into a relationship simply because she was trying to adjust to her life back with the BAU from Interpol.

And now, she was selfishly stealing you for herself behind your boyfriend’s back.

She looked back down at her phone, sighing softly. Her finger was hovering over your name, her heart beating hard in her chest. Should she?

She groaned at the headache beginning to form behind her eyes before moving to pull her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it into the passenger seat before starting up her car.

“Fuck it.” She pressed your name, lifting the phone to her ear and letting her head fall onto the headrest of her seat.

It rang...a few times. Emily was just about to hang up when it stopped ringing and your voice sounded through the phone.

“Emily.” You whispered, clutching your phone tightly as you locked the bathroom door behind you and moved to sit on the floor.

“I want to see you.” She spoke sternly, she was trying to make it clear that it was urgent. If she gave your room to second guess, you would, and neither of you would be seeing the either other tonight.

She could hear you sighing through the phone and could already imagine the look on your face. “You know I can’t do that.” Your fingers tugged at the fiber of the bathroom rug you were sitting on.

“Yes you can, you know you can.” She huffed, you could tell she was in a mood and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Em...” Her car came to a stop at a light. “Don’t Em me.” You could feel the butterflies at the pit of your stomach as much as you tried to ignore it. She was rarely this stern with you. Something about the tone of her voice sparked a need inside of you, the same need that was already growing at the pit of her stomach.

“It’s the middle of the night Em. How do I justify to him going out this late?” You sighed, leaning your head against the tub behind you.

“You don’t. Fuck him,” she practically growled, “How about this; you stop hiding in the bathroom like I know you are and go tell him you’ve found someone that’s gonna take care of you better than he can.” You could hear her car taking off and speeding up.

You were going to speak up before she continued, “Better yet, don’t tell him anything. Just pack your shit and you can move into mine. I can have you settled in before the sun even comes up.” You knew she meant it, but she was also running on no sleep and her mouth got bad when she was tired.

“You’re wasting your time with him. I don’t even know why you give him the light of day. He’s a dead-beat who’s never done anything for you but fuck up your day, yeah?”

“Fine, alright Emily. I’ll meet you.” You had to cut her rant off, causing her to chuckle cockily, “Don’t pretend like you weren’t going to anyway.” You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I’ll be there in ten.” Was all she added before hanging up the phone.

When she finally pulled onto your street, you were already standing outside your house with a backpack sling lazily over your shoulder. She pulled beside you, unlocking the car doors.

Her eyes examined you, she couldn’t help but bite her lip and the very sight of you. As soon as you caught her looking she diverted her attention to the empty street in front of her.

When you got in she didn’t say a word to you, just sped off with a force that caused the tires to squeal against the pavement. You would have yelled at her for it any other time. That would be if you hadn’t already made such a ruckus at home, screaming at your boyfriend, and practically waking the whole neighborhood.

You didn’t speak up, her body was tensed and her knuckles were holding the wheel so hard they were turning a ghost white color.

When she finally came to a stop outside her house, she shut the car off but made no effort to move or look at you. You looked between her and the house.

“What’d you tell him?” She questioned, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead of her. Your eyes landed on her, admiring the sharp edge of her tensed jaw.

“Exactly what you told me to.” You bit your lip as she met your eyes. You expected a smile or something, but her expression did not change. You couldn’t read the look on her face, mostly because there was no light to illuminate the car. You could only see a shadow of her features. “I want you.” You cleared your throat.

For a moment you could see her face, as a car drove past with its lights shining into her face. She looked tired to no end, like the life had been drained from her. You knew a case had to be bad to do such damage on her.

Before you had the chance to speak, she leaned forward and connected your lips. The kiss was powerful, it ripped the air from your lungs. Her lips worked against yours as if she was desperately trying to rid herself of her aggression.

She pulled you over the console into her lap with an assertive nature, gripping at the back of your thighs as to tell you ‘Don’t you dare move’.

One of her hands moved to tangle within your hair, pulling roughly. You let out a surprised gasp and she took the chance to deepen the kiss with her tongue.

It was all coming out, all of the frustration and anger. She was taking it out on you in the best way possible. You silently invited her to continue, cupping her face to stable yourself against her.

“Em.” You mumbled, letting your head fall back as she moved her kisses to your neck. Attacking it in the most possessive manner; it was as if she was claiming you in this exact moment. And you were not stopping her.

She tugged on your hair again, basking in the moan that fell from your lips. “You sound so pretty when you moan for me.” She mumbled, biting down on your shoulder.

A chill ran up your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. When you looked down to meet her eyes the look she gave practically melted you.

She was looking at you as if she wanted you, she had to have you. And, without doubt, you wanted her just as much.

She continued kissing your shoulder, leaving marks as she went. Instinctively, your hips rolled towards hers and she let out a groan. She gripped you tighter.

“Baby,” she planted, looking up at you now. “Inside.” She demanded, her tone gentle now.

The two of you collected yourselves and shuffled into her house, her fumbling frustratedly with her keys and you giggling behind her. She’s not you a playful glare and swung the door open for you.

When you stepped inside the air felt different than your own home. It was warmer and everything smelled like her, it made your stomach flutter.

“You know...” she started, breaking the silence once again. “When I bought this place, I imagined you in it.” A blushed spread on your cheeks.

“I imagined you cooking breakfast on the weekends, me cooking dinner on the weekdays. This place had the exact stove and oven you used to go on and on about when you saw it on Instagram.” She chuckled lightly and you turned to look at her fully.

“I bought those towels you loved for the bathroom, I thought maybe it would make you feel more comfortable here. I even bought some copies of your favorite books to put on the coffee table.” You moved closer to get, placing your hand on her cheek.

“I only use the fitted sheet on the bed. Because I know you like to pile on blankets and the sheet gets lost on the floor so you don’t ever put it on anyway.” She leaned into your touch.

“I could see us when I bought this place. I could see myself fucking you on even surface in here. The shower even has its own bench inside.” It caught you off guard how her tone did not change at such a bold statement. But the way she looked into your eyes fueled your desire for her.

“I can honestly say that you’re the love of my life. And I’m sick of pretending that I’m not in love with you. I’m sick of leaving your house knowing someone else is going to take my place in your bed. I’m sick of acting as if I don’t know you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

She wrapped an arm around you and pulled your bodies flush against one another. Her face was so close to yours that you could feel the brush of her breath against your lips.

It was silent for a second, your eyes connected so strongly that nothing was going to have the power to tear the two of you away from each other.

Without missing a beat, you leaped for her lips. Emily stumbled softly before steadying the two of you. She kissed you with hunger and passion and love. You were sure she could feel your heart beating through the closeness of your chests, and dear god was it racing.

She guided you through the house and inter her bedroom, expertly keeping you from knocking into anything. That was until the back of your knees hit the end of the bed and she pushed you down with a soft ‘thud’.

She looked down on you, her lips swollen and pink. She searched your face, looking for permission which only coaxed a smile to your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere baby. I choose you.”

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greeneyesandtea · 3 years

Text

Elf on the Shelf

The Elf on the Shelf was a huge deal in the Styles home this year with Baby boy Styles declaring he is now Big boy Styles due to his promotion three weeks ago when Scorpio baby Sebastian or Bashy as Alex had taken to calling him arrived. Now that Alex came to the age of realizing the purpose of the Elf on the Shelf Harry saw on pinterest like any other mom it relatively soon became Lia’s job to organize and create a cheerful but messy Elf on the Shelf idea every night from November because quarantine already has made things gloomy babe and tonight was no different in the Styles home.

“So I saw this one it looks pretty cool. We throw flour on the table and have Lala walk across the house tracking flour all the way to the kids rooms.” Harry said, pointing his screen to her back as she was facing the stove,Lia quickly turned around to see the mess Harry wanted to cause and her eyes rolled so hard that she could practically see her skull.“Your face is screaming shut the fuck up Harry.”

Lia was putting the water to boil for the bottles that Bashy uses during the night feedings since Harry found it was the best time with his little mate.He now had a little lad and best mate,all he wanted for years and now that he’s got it his world has been completed.Lia’s world as well has been complete but that doesn’t mean their perfect world hasn't come without their challenges.

“Because you just suggested I track flour though the home I clean everyday with a baby strapped to my nipple.” Lia turns her body around completely this time to make full eye contact. “You make the mess.You clean it up.You and Alex can both learn the lesson together now.”

“We know the lesson.I know the lesson. I just like seeing you bent over in those green panties you call shorts during breakfast.” Harry stands from the island padding on his hanukkah sock covered feet, a gift from Ben and Mer and wraps his arms around his now grumpy wife, his chest to her back and “I’ll help clean.” Lia cranes her neck to look at her husband and raises a brow at him. “This time I promise.Jeez a man doesn’t do it once and he never lives it down”

Placing the last bottle in the pot and placing the lid on it,the couple takes a minute after to soak the warmth and smell of each other in the oddly quiet home.The home was usually filled with baby gurgles and whines of mommy please! One more snacky! and the music Harry plays as background noise.

“Something else babe please I really don’t want to have a hectic morning tomorrow. Bash hasn’t been still for days now I don’t want to deal with a crying baby and a mess.Let’s just keep looking,let’s see what mess Lala can get into tonight yeah?” Lia turns herself around placing a soft kiss on the tip of his chin and grabs a hand that fell on her ass and walks him over to the table where they eat breakfast because of the bench Harry just needed to have there because one day that bench would be filled with Styles babies.

After a few scrolls through google and pinterest before Lia saw it! Mischievous Lala was going to cut a few pieces off the boys pajamas and on the white board she was going to tell the Styles boys that Santa needed proof Lala was watching to see if the boys were being good or bad.

“Look baby.Lala can cut some holes into their pajamas,they’re growing out of them anyway.” Lia took the side of her thumbnail and started biting at the cuticle and showed Harry her Pinterest board of Elf on the Shelf ideas.

“Stop that!” Harry batted Lia’s hand away from her mouth and ghosting his lips on hers quickly Lia almost missed it because of how fast it was. “Well let’s get the scissor and start cutting.I’ll write Lala’s message.” With a pat on the bum the couple springs into action.

Slowly making her way into Sebastian’s nursery taking in the sound of her baby’s gentle breathing.Lia took the swaddle off on one side and cut three small holes.One on each shoulder blade and one right on his breast milk filled bloated tummy. Lia quickly swaddles Sebastian back up before he feels the breeze come from the hallway that will surely wake him up and one thing she knows about her new addition is that no one absolutely no one wakes him up from his peaceful sleep.

As Lia was walking out of the nursery Harry had just finished taking the final piece off of Alex’s pajamas which had more pieces cut off. Alex being a stomach sleeper like made Harry let out a giggle as he cut two big pieces right where Alex’s bum cheeks where kept warm by the pants but due to Harry’s humor now missing one patch in fabric on the center of each bum cheek and two holes on each sleeve but worst of all was Harry took it upon himself to give Alex a trim.I piece of curl that kept getting in his eye it didn’t drastically change his hair but with lockdown both parents decided a haircut was not worth the risk of getting anyone sick.

Waiting for Harry to leave the big boy bedroom only to meet his missus in the hall.Everything was fine until Lia trailed her eyes from her husband's face to his hands.

“Harry Styles!” The parents have mastered the whisper yell very well and this is what Harry knows is a true I fucked up moment “I said cut a few pieces of his pajamas not cut his hair! Harry Oh my God your nan is going to have a fit she loves Alex’s hair.” Taking the hair from Harry’s hand and seeing the stand that now in Lia’s hand looks much longer than it did in the Sunflower shaped night light dim.

“It did not look that long in the room.I swear!” Their eyes zone in on the little bundle of hair and little giggles escape from both their lips.

“It’s okay.” Lia turns to walk down the hallway and turns around before she takes a step down the stairs. “I like being the only woman in this house and Lala fucking up Alex’s hair only secures that.”

With a white board and dry erase marker and a small tiff on whose handwriting is better You’ve spelled your own name wrong dummy the pair went to sleep peacefully holding each other.Harry’s arm around Lia’s waist and a leg between her knees and Sebastian only waking up once during the night. It was going to be a good day tomorrow was Harry’s last thought before he drifted into sleep holding his wife.

Harry’s high point ended at 9:30 am because a sob rang through the home,the sob came from Alexander Nash Styles.Alex was standing at furthest five inches from Lia’s face.

“Mummy.” The choked out sob rang through and Lia opened her eyes confused and then had wide eyes after she registered her baby was in tears and had a bright red face damn near hyperventilating.

Both parents springing up from their position wrapped in each other to pull their four year old into bed with them.

“What’s wrong baby? Did you throw up, it's okay.” Lia asks with her sweet Alex perched in her lap.

“No.” it barely came out but when it did the force of the cry almost made him throw up.This was not a normal cry for Alex this sweet boy who barely cried as a baby let alone a toddler was having a full on terror cry.Shoving his face in his mom or Mum as Harry insisted chest,Lia could only rub his back and shh his until he calmed down after a few more sobs.

“Now that you’ve calmed down,want to tell momma what’s wrong?” Lia took a hand and placed it on the side of his face and placed a kiss on Alex’s puckered lips as he already knew that was his mummy’s motives. “Thank you for the kiss.Now let’s wipe these tears and tell mummy what happened.Did you have a bad dream?”

Alex shook his head so hard it collided with Lia’s collarbone making her wince a bit.

“Lala cut-” little whine slipped from his throat. “Cut my pants on my bum and then...cut my curlies.” The cry started again Lia and Harry shared a look and then a giggle which caused Alex to look at his parents. “Oh no Bashy.What is Lala cut Bashy too.”

The thought of his baby brother getting a tailor job from Lala scared him so much and took him to protective brother mode.Alex made a mad dash to the nursery making both parents move out of bed because Bashy could not be woken up on due to someone else.

“Careful it’s only been three weeks!” Harry warmed his wife who was quick to jump out of bed but Lia waved him off speeding down the hall in her green sleeping shorts to see what Alex was going to do after one noticed that Bashy had fallen victim to Lala as well.

Lia was met with a plea from Alex to get his baby brother out of his crib and check him.

“No,Alex come on let’s wait for him to wake up on his own unless you want a cranky brother.” Lia keeps her voice down as Harry goes to pick Alex up and starts to walk him out.

“Let’s let baby brother sleep,I'll check him later.You and I can make breakfast,let mummy and Bash sleep for a little longer.” Harry said as he walked down the stairs but before he could respond Sebastian’s cry rang through the house and caught the attention of Alexander to which Harry threw his head back and hoped Lia could get the message telepathically and change Sebastian fast before Alexander threw another fit.

“Put me down daddy! I need to check Bashy now!” The four year old thrashed himself in his daddy’s arms and had more strength than Harry had thought.Alex was a little man on a mission running up the stairs and down the hall to his baby brothers room.Harry chased after him but was not fast enough because he heard the cry that came from Alex.

“Oh no!Lala got Bashy too!”

And the sob continued leaving Alex’s mouth which caused Bash to let out a cry and the parents at a loss for words.For the first time in three weeks both their babies were crying at the same time and neither knew how to begin consoling them.

“I should have just let Lala track flour through my house.”

#dad!harry #daddy!harry #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #one direction #harry #styles #not proff read and if you don't like it don't tell me I'll cry #constructive #criticism #is #okay

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trikadekaphile · 3 years

Text

Excerpts from one of my favorite Han/Leia fanfics

Dant Solo once wrote a fanfic on the now-defunct TATS website, which was posted in three parts. It was titled "Oblivion" and focused on the missing moments from the period during the NJO (New Jedi Order) where Han and Leia were separated, then when they got back together. Dant Solo did what Kathy Tyers had neither the talent nor the decency to do: gave Han and Leia a proper reunion.

Now, it is no secret that I do not care for the pre-Disney EU, now called Legends. (For the record, I don’t care much for the Disney EU, either.) I flat-out hate much of the NJO, particularly the way it crapped all over Han/Leia's relationship -- not only separating them, but gypping them out of a reunion, and instead giving all the love/personal scenes to the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke...in the book that was supposed to contain the Han/Leia reunion. Tyers poured salt on the wound by offering a fake mea culpa where she said -- heck, gloated -- that she could have written some Han/Leia scenes, but she wanted to focus on the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke.

Han/Leia fans, justifiably outraged, began a campaign to get their couple better treatment. It took three years before Del Rey finally delivered something more than a half-assed stopgap measure: "Tatooine Ghost," set after Han and Leia were married, and thankfully retconned some of the most egregious and nauseating parts of the travesty called "The Courtship of Princess Leia."

Anyway, I feel a rant about the red-gold pestilence coming on, and I choose to quash it and refocus on the aforementioned excerpts from Dant Solo's fanfic. The whole fanfic is good, but I have some favorite parts, which are the ones I will post.

Without further ado, here are my favorite excerpts from "Oblivion":

*******

[Han] came to a lift and entered it with half a dozen other beings, traveling downward to an entertainment level. He found a familiar cantina, one that had been renamed but remained, nevertheless, the same sort of dive it had always been. He swaggered through the doorway, hand resting casually above his blaster in an old, customary habit. His senses were immediately assaulted by a musty, hazy smoke that filled the crowded, dimly lit room. Loud conversation filled his ears, and he suddenly hoped that no one would speak to him. He wanted a drink and he wanted to be alone.

He ambled to the bar and sat on a lone stool at one end, waving a hand to the bartender, a shiny headed Bith who greeted him enthusiastically. Grumbling, Han ordered Alderaanian ale, noting the way the bartender slunk away after he provided it.

Gulping the brew greedily, Han's thoughts returned to Leia. He couldn't remember the last time they had exchanged pleasant words. He supposed it must have been some time shortly after Sernpidal. Again, as had been the case for so long, despair flooded him at the thought of his friend and co-pilot. His eyes closed without him even realizing it, his mind remembering the final moments of the Wookiee's life, recalling the horrible, shattering events against his own will.

Chewie! No!

Dammit! His fist clenched around the cold, hard mug of ale, but almost as quickly, it unclenched with a weak, sorrowful acceptance, eyes opening reflexively.

Ahh, Chewie...What am I supposed to do here? I wish you could tell me.

He knew what the big lug would say...he would tell him to get off his ass and pull himself together. That there was no use beating himself up over it and that he had wasted enough of his time already.

And he would probably tell Han to go back to his family. If there was one thing Chewie had always felt very strongly about, it was family.

Maybe if he hadn't been running around with me, he'd be with his family right now.

A futile thought, but Han couldn't help but think it anyway. He sighed, feeling a shudder pass through him with the release of that breath. This was why he'd always been a loner. Granted, Chewie had been in his life for an incredibly long time before he'd lost him, but he remembered vividly the kind of pain that loss of any kind imbued, and he had vowed, as a much younger man, not to risk such loss ever again.

But first there was Chewie and then there was Leia, both taking on a tough edged scoundrel who really wasn't worth it.

Surely, Leia had recently drawn that conclusion in earnest. He thought of her trip to Hapes, of her time with the dashing, regal Prince Isolder. If she'd married him instead of Han, she wouldn't be alone right now; she wouldn't have to wonder what would become of her husband, her marriage. With a distant darkness, Han wondered what had passed between the Prince and his wife. He was still a handsome bastard; certainly Leia would have noticed that. Han had left her alone all these months, had in truth mostly left her alone for months before, all the while existing in the same home as her, drinking himself into oblivion.

The idea of Leia with Isolder inflamed Han with a heart clenching, smoldering jealousy that consumed him for a long, violent moment, tempting him to hurl his mug across the room, shattering it against the wall as concretely as the thought shattered his soul.

He pushed the agonizing thought from his mind, forcing it into a quiet corner of his brain, along with all thoughts too painful to bear.

He tried not to think of anything at all, and was barely aware when someone sat on a nearby stool and slid it beside him. He glanced over to find a tall, curvaceous woman with close-cropped, sun colored hair smiling at him in a flirtatious manner. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, smiling inwardly at the realization of who he had turned into since he'd met a young, idealistic would-be Jedi. Then he returned his gaze to his drink, dismissing the young woman.

"Hi there," she said, turning to face him.

With a tired sigh, he looked at her again, smiling politely. She was very attractive, he had to admit that.

"Buy a lady a drink?" She smiled impishly.

Why not? It couldn't hurt. "Yeah, sure." He gestured to the bartender, who hastened over. "A drink for the lady," Han said with a gesture.

The woman smiled at the Bith. "Tagorian Tellder wine." As the bartender reached for the appropriate bottle and began to pour, she turned back to Han and extended a delicate hand. "I'm Shayna."

Han shook her hand briefly. "Han. Nice to meetcha." He took another long swig of his ale, watching the woman carefully as she received her drink from the bartender and sipped it slowly.

She raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "You look lonely, Han."

Han raised a brow in return. "Nah, I'm just fine. I like bein' alone."

"Really? You don't ever like company?"

Against his will, his thoughts turned to his family. It had been a long time, up until Chewie's death, since he had genuinely enjoyed being alone. Now it seemed the only option left to him. "Maybe sometimes. Not often."

She smiled coyly. "I don't like to be alone. I'm always looking for company." She leaned toward him and the loose front of her blouse slid forward enticingly, capturing Han's gaze for the briefest of moments.

He looked away quickly, guzzling down the last of his ale and signaling the bartender for another.

Without warning, Shayna placed a warm hand on Han's thigh, just as his second ale was placed before him.

"You want to go someplace more private and talk some more?"

Han looked at her for a long moment, holding his mug in suspended animation halfway to his lips. It could be so easy....to go with this beautiful woman and forget everything for a little while. His body was certainly willing. No one ever had to know. There was no way for anyone to find out. And in truth, he wasn't sure what was left of his marriage to begin with, so how wrong would it be, really?

Sighing mentally, Han realized that he would always know. And if he ever had a chance of fixing things with Leia, he wasn't sure he could live with that knowledge. Without warning, his mind assaulted him with an image of the hurt that would become present in Leia's eyes if he were to betray her. Trust and fidelity had always been in large commodity between them, something each had always counted on, perhaps even taken for granted. He could easily imagine how deeply this would cut her; how devastated and disappointed in him she would be. Hadn't he disappointed her enough already?

It wasn't worth it. A night with some stranger was not even remotely worth his wife and family, no matter what state those relationships were in.

He reached down and removed the woman's hand from his thigh, squeezed it gently for a second, then replaced it on the bar, noting her confused look of disappointment. "Sorry, not interested." He turned back to the bartop.

"You married?" She asked knowingly.

"Yeah. You could say that." He closed up, pulling back inside himself.

"Hmm....you don't look like the faithful type," she said mischievously.

Han glanced at her, eyebrows shooting heavenward. He supposed she was right, he didn't look the type. Funny how things changed. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised." He stood up, took one last gulp of his ale, tossed a few credits on the bar, gave the woman a mock salute, and then swaggered away. *******

Han dug into the travel pack he had stashed in a compartment over the sensor console on board the Falcon. He was still undecided as to whether or not he was going to give Leia what was inside the pack.

He missed her already. Their time together had been far too short. After all the nights he had imagined holding her, he was still being denied.

With resigned uncertainty, he pulled out the gift he had purchased for Leia at the Abregadoe-rae spaceport. It had almost seemed a sign at the time. He had expected to see her when he arrived at Duro, and when he had seen this, he'd been uncharacteristically compelled to buy it.

The old fashioned book-- the actual flimsiplast sheets bound in a cover of burgundy with gold writing-- contained Alderaanian poetry. He had stood in the small shop, holding it in his hands almost reverently, trying to decide if he should purchase it.

In a hasty decision, he had done just that. Now he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to give it to her. He felt somewhat foolish about the gesture.

He stood and placed the book on the holochess table and removed a bottle of Corellian brandy from a nearby compartment. He went to the galley and grabbed a glass, filling it halfway with the amber liquid. This drink was different from the ones he had taken this past year. He didn't feel he needed it. He simply wanted it. The rumble of the hatch opening surprised him, and he went to investigate, hand reaching for his blaster. It was probably Jacen, but in such desperate circumstances, he couldn't take a chance. As he hurried, he heard the sound of the hatch closing again, and when he rounded a corner, he saw what had to be Leia, removing the helmet of her chem suit. He holstered his blaster and stared in disbelief as the helmet revealed her lovely face, surprising him yet again. Around her now shaven head, a white scarf was tied.

She smiled at his dumbfounded expression, enjoying it immensely. She knew she would have to be processed again in the morning, but she didn't care. It was worth it. She had dreamed of being with Han again for too long. "Surprised to see me, Captain?" She dropped the helmet to the floor and began removing the chem suit.

He just stared as she pushed the suit down her legs and stepped out of it. With her hair gone, she looked thinner, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. It brought home to him what he had put her through, and guilt gripped his heart.

And here she is, doing everything in her power to be with me, yet again. What did I ever do to deserve this woman? He couldn't imagine.

Feeling awkwardly ashamed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to the floor.

Leia picked up the suit and helmet, stashing them in a nearby compartment. She was absurdly nervous. Her stomach was fluttering in anticipation of spending time alone with Han. In an effort to calm herself, she reached out through the Force to touch Han's essence and found him as nervous as she. It was a comforting realization, and her tension decreased almost instantly. She turned back to Han and they lapsed into silence.

He returned his gaze to hers. "You want a drink?"

She nodded. "Sure." As she moved to follow him to the galley, she passed the holochess table and spotted, of all things, a book. "What's this?"

Han stopped and saw her fingering the book on the table. I guess my decision's made for me, he thought dismally. "Um...well, I got that for you." He felt his face warming.

She looked up at him in sharp surprise. He had gotten her a book? That was certainly unexpected. She smiled tentatively, sensing the sudden increase in awkwardness that permeated the air around Han.

Han crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the hold, everywhere but at Leia. "I just...saw it, and...well, it made me think of you. So I got it for you." Did he sound as stupid to her as he did to himself?

She picked up the book gingerly, almost lovingly. She fingered the cover, tracing the title with a fingertip: The Heart Of Alderaan. The old, familiar pain surfaced, competing with the pounding of her heart that was caused by Han's presence.

Han watched her, his heart churning. She opened the cover carefully and turned to the first page.

Han cleared his throat. "There was one poem..." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice in the quiet of the ship, shrugging sheepishly. "I thought it was pretty good. I marked it. It really reminded me of you."

Leia glanced up at him for a moment before flipping carefully through the pages until she came to the one Han had marked. Lead Me Back To You. Warmth washed over her, and in a voice choked with emotion, Leia read the poem aloud.

"Blind and running, not knowing to where

Burning sorrow, from what isn't there

Eyes could not see, you were there for me."

Leia's voice faltered a moment, the words he had so carefully chosen cutting her deeply. "Despair held reign, keeping me empty.

"Through the dark haze, your light strong and true

Ever shining, leads me back to you

Starlight so bright, a beacon in black

Filling my soul, completing my lack

"Worlds fall afar, hearts cry out breaking

Desperate need, my arms are aching

Moments are lost, lifetime spent running

Lovers are hurt, even the cunning

"Love and beauty, you brought to my life

Soothing comfort, an end to the strife

Further I fall, deep in your embrace

Hearts breathe in time, tears fall from your face."

Tears gathered, blurring the words. She looked at him, speechless. This was the most wonderful gift she had ever received. Just knowing he had thought of her, as she had thought of him, almost continually, filled her with joy.

He stared back, his own expression grave. "It's probably not the best poem you've ever seen," he began. "But--"

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a long, emotionally charged moment. Han wanted to take her in his arms, but felt oddly unable to move.

She offered him a teary smile of encouragement and it was all he needed.

"C'mere," he whispered roughly, reaching out a hand toward her.

With a small sigh, Leia took his hand in hers and stepped close, her eyes never leaving his, feeling the unique way his life force called to her. She wrapped herself up in it, drank it in with her senses.

With an almost inaudible whimper, Han's arms were suddenly around her, clutching her to him convulsively. His breath near her ear was harsh as he whispered, "I missed you, Leia. Gods, I missed you."

A waterfall of tearful emotion washed through her. She held him more tightly and returned the whisper. "I missed you, too. Every moment. Even when you were at home."

Her words stabbed at his heart, but he understood her need to say them. Eyes closed, threatening to overflow, Han breathed reverently, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She pulled back just enough to look at his closed eyes. She thought she could almost see a trembling to his chin, but was not quite sure in the dim lighting. "I understand," she said, meaning it.

And he realized she did. Because she knew him so well, better than he even knew himself. He opened his eyes and brought up a hand to remove the white scarf from her head.

Her hand flew up protectively. "Han--"

"Shhh..." He removed her hand, then followed suit with the scarf, dropping it to the deck. He ran a hand along her scalp, humbled by the gesture she had made for a few simple minutes with him. He could barely release the heartfelt words that bubbled to his lips. "I don't deserve you. I never have," he breathed.

She shook her head slowly, eyes filling with bright tears. "Just kiss me, you nerfherder," she said around the tightness in her throat.

His mouth bent to hers, kissing her with all the loneliness, loss and desperation he had felt for so long. His arms held her tightly once more and he lifted her to dangle above the floor.

It was like coming home, for both of them. Almost forgotten passion mingled with the joy of rediscovering each other, to carry them away to a haven where nothing else mattered, at least for a little while.

He swung her more fully into his arms, cradling her lovingly. As he carried her to their cabin---their cabin, he thought with a soft squeeze to his heart--- he was almost moved to tears by the gentle touch of her hands surrounding his face.

They reached the cabin and he placed her in the center of the bed, staring into her eyes for long, grateful moments. Then they kissed again, softly, deeply, burrowing into each others' souls, erasing the pain and sorrow and replacing it with understanding and trust.

Their clothes were lost hurriedly, and when they were bared to each other, physically and emotionally, all else was forgotten. Their mouths sought comfort, their caresses sought solace. Forgiveness was understood, love granted unconditionally.

Too moved for words, they comprehended each other perfectly without them, sharing thoughts on a level of intimacy that left them both weak.

Crying out in a release that was as much emotional as it was physical, they clung to each other, trembling together, soaring on waves of passionate eternity.

Breath calming, Han held Leia in a gripping embrace, wanting to never let go. He was overwhelmed by his feelings for her, in a humbling way he knew not how to express. It permeated his soul, turning him inside out. The past year had taken a toll on him, and now those feelings surfaced in the most profound way, filling him up, overflowing from within him. He was unable to contain them, and felt the tears choking his throat, unstoppable now.

Leia sensed the deep emotion in her husband and reached out through the Force to touch his soul. When the first sob wrenched from his throat, Leia held him close, stroking the damp hair at the back of his neck with excruciatingly comforting fingers, feeling his tears trickle a damp trail down her neck. She reached out to him spiritually, felt him grip her mental touch almost reflexively, as if he did so without even realizing it. She stroked his mind, doing her best to comfort him in every way she knew how.

He cried as he hadn't been able to since Chewie's death. Not just tears now, but huge bursts of grief that emanated from his chest, obscuring everything but the soothing embrace of his wife. He allowed her, finally, to hold him, to share his sorrow, to see just how much the past year had affected him. He sobbed until he was too weak to continue, finally, blissfully, falling into a deep, exhausted slumber, the first of such in a long, long time.

Leia held him still, her aching heart at last peaceful in the knowledge that Han and she had made sense of themselves. The simple act of sharing his pain was proof that he was healing. It might take a bit more time to make him whole again, but they could do it...

Together, they could do anything.

*******

Leia watched her husband lying on his side, facing her. She was filled with relief and serenity. She had dozed on and off for the past two hours, while Han remained entrenched in sleep. She snuggled close to him, her thirst for his nearness not easily quenched. After all was said and done, they had found each other again, both equally unable to sever the bond they had shared for so long. Pride and arrogance set aside, there really was no reason for them not to be together.

Leia waded in the warmth of Han's sleeping thoughts, like a gentle current. His mind hadn't been so calm, so at ease, since before Chewie's death.

She sighed at the thought of the big Wookiee, so prominent a part of their lives. After all the loss she had suffered in her life, she was surprised at how hard Chewie's death had hit her. Certainly, not as hard as it had hit Han, but hard nonetheless.

She pushed aside that pain as she felt Han's consciousness stirring. She pulled herself closer to him, the skin of his shoulders so blissfully warm under her palms.

Stretching his legs before wrapping them around hers, he let out a low breath as his eyes flickered open and his arms surrounded her. She brought her face to his stubbly cheek, making a soft sound of contentment from deep within her.

They held each other for a long silence, until Han pulled back, a somber expression etched into his features. He leaned into her and kissed her lingeringly, then looked into her eyes once more, his expression growing slowly sheepish. "Sorry to fall asleep on you," he admitted, looking up at her with raised eyebrows, face tilted downward.

"That's okay," she whispered. "It just feels so good to hold you again."

"Yeah." Han swallowed against the sudden lump that rose to his throat. "I know what you mean." He leaned against the pillow, raising a hand to stroke the smooth skin of her shoulder, just above where the blanket fell over her. Her arms felt so good around him, too good to be true. But it was true, thankfully. Feeling mildly ashamed at his earlier display of emotion, he watched his fingers caress her skin and forced himself to speak. "And, uh...sorry 'bout losing it before, too. I don't want you to think it was anything bad about you--"

"I know what it was," she said softly, understandingly.

He looked back at her, nodding, resisting the urge to ask her to explain it to him. He felt better now, more in control, more like his old self. As if he had purged himself of some parasitic demon that had been eating away at his soul. He relaxed and pulled her down to rest against his chest, tenderly amused by her lack of hair. He rubbed her head gently, grinning. "I bet you can't wait till I shave mine, huh?"

She raised her head to look him in the eye. Happiness bubbled within her at the familiar sight of his charming, lopsided smile. "Well, we might as well match," she said with a smirk.

The amusement in his eyes slowly faded to reveal a deeper emotion, as his gaze roamed over well loved features that had only come to endear her more to him with the passage of time. It didn't matter to him if her gorgeous hair was gone, she still took his breath away. "You're still so beautiful, Princess," he whispered. He smiled wistfully. "Too beautiful for an old pirate like me."

She laid her palm across his cheek, an unnerving thought creeping into her mind. It was something she had thought of over the past few months, but had been afraid to truly acknowledge. She forced a smile. "You know you're still gorgeous," she said. Her eyes fell from his to study the hair on his chest. "I'm sure plenty of women told you so in your recent travels," she added quietly, unable to do more than imply her concerns.

His fingers lifted her chin, firm but gentle. "Hey," he said fiercely. "There was no one else."

She gazed into his eyes with hopeful uncertainty.

His lips pressed together before he spoke again. "I swear it. No one."

Their eyes held for a long, searching moment, and Leia didn't need to touch him through the Force to know he was sincere. She kissed him softly on the lips before returning her head to rest on his chest.

They lay quietly for a time, while Han tried to think of a way to tell her all that she meant to him. He had caused her so much pain, forced her to put up with far more than she should have had to. "Leia...," he began tentatively. "I don't want you to think I ever stopped loving you--"

Her head rose quickly, meeting his eyes with her own. "I never thought that. I know you too well," she said softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes at her chin. "Yeah, well..." After a brief pause, he continued. "The things I said to you, when I was drinking...I didn't mean them, not any of them."

"I know."

He sighed in a rush of defeated breath. He closed his eyes and tried to force the words that did not come naturally to him. "I just couldn't...I couldn't--"

"Shhh." Leia placed a finger to his lips, stilling the awkward sentiment. "Don't," she whispered, voice vehement. "You don't need to explain anything." His lips moved beneath her finger, his voice heavily laden with pain. "I hurt you, Leia, everything I did this past year--"

Her lips replaced her fingertip, kissing him softly. After a brief hesitation, he kissed her back. When she broke away from his lips, she gazed at him with large, soulful eyes. "Your fault, my fault...it doesn't matter. Not now."

Han's brow furrowed. "My fault. It does matter."

She shook her head, smiling gently. "No. It doesn't."

He stared at her, eyes softly dubious, lips parting as if to say something else. Then his mouth firmed into a thin line and he leaned up to enfold her in his arms. He spun her to her back, holding her to him in a powerful embrace. "I was selfish," he whispered into her neck.

She stroked his hair, thinking of how she would miss its softness. "You were hurting, you couldn't help it."

He held her more tightly, felt her heart beating a steady rhythm with his. "That's no excuse."

Gently, she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes with a grim expression. She didn't want him beating himself up over this. There was no point to it. "Han, sometimes circumstances happen. And we can't help how we react to them. We cope the best way we know how."

Alderaan, he thought. It should have broken her, but it hadn't. Her inner strength was too tenacious. He always knew she was stronger than he was. Where he had crumpled, she had only grown stronger. In the early years, once they had gotten past the nasty taunts and sarcasm, her strength had probably been what he admired most about her. He nodded to her finally, unable to argue when she would not allow it. He would carry this guilt for a long time, regardless of her lack of blame. He almost wished she would tell him off, give him what he knew he so justly deserved.

Leia watched Han's features settle into resignation, then something resembling tender disbelief.

He shook his head very slowly. "How is it that you still love me so?"

She smiled, equally tender. "How could I possibly stop?" She asked softly, eyes wide and sincere.

He grimaced slightly, feeling so undeserving of her love and trust. "I love you, Leia." The words were barely a whisper.

Even if Leia hadn't been able to bask in the beauty of Han's emotions flowing freely through the energy of the Force, the look in his eyes would be enough. She kissed him with a fervent passion that they hadn't known since their younger years, and they surrendered to the growing need to drown themselves in the intimacy each had existed without for far too long. Their bodies moved together in a timeless rhythm, strengthening their hearts and fortifying their souls.

All around them, oblivion slowly faded.

#han and leia #fanfic which is better than profic #kathy tyers can kiss my ass

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harmony88 · 3 years

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Okay so I saw your post yesterday from journey's end where you said something about how the Doctor wants to snog Rose when she says she built the dimension cannon to come back to him and I just want to read your take on that PRETTY PLEASE!

Oh, anon! How lovely if this had been reality! Let's just say it is. Ask and you shall receive :) Also put this on Ao3 (I'm sure its been done before but this was too fun)

He knew hugging her was going to feel like coming up for air. The amount of times he’d imagined this moment was astronomical and overwhelming, and even so, he was entirely unprepared for what it would feel like to actually hold her again.

He’d come up with a million scenarios. Dreams about falling into the parallel world by accident and scooping her back up and then escaping with mad laughter, holding hands just as the walls were sealing off again; visions of somehow finding her on a beach in this reality with her hair smelling of sea salt and sand. In those, he would wrap her up in a hug that made them both dizzy, and of course, he'd spent an absurd about of time coming up with silly daydreams of just casually stumbling across her in a coffee shop, making some flirtatious comment that was much too simple for the heartache they had both been through.

Not entirely unlike what he'd said to her today, he supposed, as he had laid dying in her arms.

Long time no see.

It had been far too long. But, by some miracle or utter cleverness, here she was. Her chest was pressed against his, her lips were on his shoulder, kissing him and also breathing him in, and he just held her. The very thought of letting go was more than his hearts or soul could bear, so he didn’t, instead he opened his eyes and looked at Donna, who was giving him a coy smile full of relief and joy. So much swam between their eyes in that single look, and he knew without her having to say that she was thinking about that day so long ago, standing in a wedding dress, watching him try not to cry.

And he knew that right now, she was bloody happy for him.

Her name was Rose.

“I missed you,” he said without meaning to Rose's ear, and his eyes pulled away from Donna to look at her as she loosened her grip around his neck. He swallowed hard, because she was already too far away again and he was already falling, losing himself to her sweet honey scent and beautiful eyes, and the longer he looked at her the harder it was to imagine they’d been apart for as long as they had.

He didn’t know how he’d survived, and he refused to even think about having to go through it all again, not when she was finally here, and when her hands came to rest on his chest directly over his hearts, Jack averted his eyes, noticing the way the Doctor’s eyes seemingly widened.

"I'm starving," he said, looking at Donna. "And if we have to keep fighting today, we should -"

"Right, yeah, we should," Donna said, but neither Rose nor the Doctor noticed when they left and headed to the galley. They were just staring at each other, and when he exhaled her name, his breath brushed her cheek.

“Rose….”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and he nodded, smiling a little at her before he pulled her back into a hug, and this time he realized they weren’t being watched. So his hands, which he’d made sure to keep on her upper back before, fell to her waist, forcing her breathing to hitch a little, a sensation he could hear just as much as he could feel, and it was intoxicating. “I missed you so much.”

He stayed silent, but his lips pressed onto her hair, and his fingers debated about slipping under her shirt and her leather jacket, but the moment he realized that's what she was wearing a sense of dread filled his entire body, and he let out a shaky breath when he decided to keep them where they were. “Do me a favor?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. “When this is over, I want you to throw away every single leather jacket you own.”

“What?” she asked, pulling back a little and raising her eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“It reminds me of...saying goodbye,” he said softly, wearing his hearts on his sleeve for the first time in years and he found himself utterly terrified by it. But she just bit her lip and cupped his cheek, and she looked down at her jacket.

“Funny,” she began. “It reminded me of you.”

His face softened, and when her eyes looked up to his, there was a tenderness in them that was making his breathing feel sharp and painful. He just let his Adam’s apple bob as he tried to accept those words, and she stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face as he brushed his hand across her arm, feeling the tangible evidence that she was here, in the flesh and in leather, and he fought the urge to kiss her forehead.

He lost, and before he knew it he was tasting her skin, savoring the sweet concoction that was Rose and sweat, and her hips buckled into his. She let out the smallest moan when she did and his hearts began to speed up, and suddenly she felt too far away again.

He touched the leather jacket, and they both remembered.

You were fantastic. And do you know what?

“Doctor…”

“Rose…”

So was I.

They were so close, so beautifully close, and he started to lean down, ready to kiss her, ready to just give in because he was simply tired of fighting this and he supposed there was some truth to that stupid saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, when the TARDIS sounded an alarm and everyone’s attention snapped to the console. He grabbed her hand, not about to not touch her, and they ran over to take a look at what was going on. Jack and Donna were there, too, and whether or not they actually ate their snacks or had been listening at the door like petty teenagers didn’t matter at all as they read the readings, and Jack stiffened.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“Something is looking for us," the Doctor said.

“There’s a massive Dalek ship at the center of the planet,” Jack said, looking at the screen. “They’re calling it the crucible. I guess that’s our destination.”

Rose and the Doctor shared a glance, but Donna was trying to play catch up, and she looked back down at the controls. “You said these planets were like an engine. But what for?”

“Rose,” the Doctor said, a thrill running through him completely at the fact that he was able to do that and look at her face while he did. She bit her lip, probably thinking the same thing. “You’ve been in a parallel world -”

He made sure to smile with his eyes at her at the word ‘been’, because it was the past, and it wasn’t true anymore, because here she was, perfect and pink and yellow and in the damn flesh, and she smirked a little, realizing that was a game he was going to continue to play and she was certain of it. He’d make it light hearted and fun, of course, but she knew and he knew that really, he would say it as a reminder that he wasn’t dreaming.

She squeezed his hand.

“That world is running ahead of this universe. You’ve seen the future. What was it?” he asked.

“The stars were going out,” Donna told him instead, remembering suddenly, and Rose glanced over at her. She nodded.

“One by one,” she added. “We looked up at the sky and they were just...dying.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, and she began to look at her feet. She couldn’t wait to tell him this, she'd thought about it so much, but she wanted to do it alone, and right now they had...well….a few too many people. But he needed to know and time was running out, so sod it.

“Basically we’ve been building this, erm. This travel machine...This, dimension cannon, so...well - so that I could…” she tried to say, but she could feel Donna and Jack’s eyes on her and it made her hesitate. The Doctor’s eyes darted to her lips before they found her eyes, and his face was hard to read, though there was the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.

“What?” he whispered.

He needed to hear her say it.

“So I could come back,” she mused, and he gave her a classic grin, full of teeth and his clicked jaw, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his hand found hers again. He hummed happily as she rolled her eyes, because they could both feel the flirty banter lingering in the air. She bit her lip as he continued to smile like an idiot at her. “Shut up.”

She was teasing, but her voice became a little breathier than it had been, the way he was looking at her was simply too much, and his smile fell, his tongue tapping the back of his teeth as he suddenly had this hungry look in his eyes that she’d never quite seen before, and she stopped breathing when he spoke next.

“Make me.”

His hearts were pounding, and her face, which was a little shocked at first, suddenly became determined, and neither cared nor remembered that Jack and Donna were there as she grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. He wasted no time. She was lonliness' remedy, the thing he craved more than the air in his lungs, and his mouth was on hers before he could process it.

She cried out when he pushed her against the controls, tongues lapping and hands cradling her waist like they were before, only this time his fingers slipped beneath her shirt, dancing on her skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them, and Jack stared in shock. Donna blushed and then turned away, walking over to Jack and making him step aside as well, because they both heard the panting that was starting to stir from both of them, and they figured if the world was ending, they should at least get this.

So they slipped back into the other room for as long as they could.

“Up,” the Doctor groaned.

“What?” she gasped, shuddering when his lips found her neck.

“Your legs. Put them up. On the seat,” he ordered, nipping a little at her. She laughed and kissed him, but she did what he said and groaned when he suddenly rubbed her in just the right spot with his thigh, and that leather jacket they’d debated about was being unzipped. "Oh, I missed you."

“Doctor,” she whined, and he just nodded.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She nodded, letting herself be spellbound for another moment, but her eyes caught sight of the monitor and she tried to pull away.

“We have….the planets, we -” she tried to say, but his lips were on hers again, and he sucked on her bottom lip. She whimpered.

"So?" he whispered, and she sighed.

“We can’t...not right now, we -”

“Yes we can,” he growled. “We can. I don’t care. I want you. I don't want to have to wait, the universe always makes us wait and I'm tired of it.”

Her jacket was nearly pulled completely off as his kisses grew more frantic, hot and wet and needy and full of so much guilt, perhaps. Guilt for losing her, guilt for not finding her first, and she rocked into him, making him cry her name as he slammed his hands on the console.

But the TARDIS still had her wits about her, and just as they began to tear each other's clothes off, making it so his suit coat was completely unbuttoned, she shifted and threw them both to the ground.

Rose winced when her shoulder hit the grating and he looked at her worriedly. His pants had a bulge that hadn’t been there a moment ago, but before they could yell at the TARDIS or resume what they were doing, the Old Girl jolted again, and he pulled Rose to his chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?” she said, and he nodded, standing up and helping her to do the same. Donna and Jack were back in the room, looking a little nervous, and everyone knew the storm was getting closer.

“In that parallel world, you said something about me,” Donna whispered, looking at Rose. The Doctor looked at Jack, who was smirking and pointed down to his pants, and he just made a face.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, and Jack just beamed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, but Rose was looking at Donna carefully, and when she slipped her hand out of the Doctor’s to walk to her, he panicked.

“Rose, come here,” he said, unable to stop himself, and she stepped back so her side was touching his.

“The dimension cannon could measure timelines -” she began, and the Doctor gave her an adoring smile, wanting to ask her so many questions about it he could hardly stand it. She just nudged his side. “It’s weird, Donna, but they all seemed to converge on you.”

“But why me?” she gasped, “What have I ever done? I’m a temp from Chiswick!”

The TARDIS jolted again, knocking them all down, and the Doctor’s hands were securely on Rose’s waist as they stood back up. His hearts were pounding, and they all stared at the door. The scanner beeped.

“The Dalek Crucible,” he whispered, and for good measure, he kissed Rose’s hair. “All aboard.”

He looked at the hand in the box for a fraction of a second as they headed toward the door, because he’d seen a version of this timeline that he was just desperately hoping was not about to come true. But if it did, he'd try to be okay with that.

He'd try.

#fanfic #anon ask #doctor and rose #tenthdoctor #rosetyler #pining #my heart

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find.

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed.

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?"

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe."

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?"

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet."

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?"

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized.

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one.

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls.

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference.

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #horRAYfic

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Catch me immediately sneaking out of Medbay via vents and paying the brig a visit.

On one hand this idea is hilarious. You're bandaged in the medical bay, on bed rest for the sake of your broken body, but find yourself snapping back to consciousness in the dim stillness of the ship's artificial light. The medical bay is still, you're the only one awake and alert in the entire area, and there's no stimulus to explain your sudden wakefulness. Everything is silent, as if all noise has been eliminated in your vicinity by something more otherworldly than the medics trying to get you better.

Only your senses working in tandem allow you to understand why you are awake, and what you must do next, for the sake of universal balance. You can sense the ongoing injustice like a dog senses a tsunami. Pain matters little as you force your bruised body to act, hopping into the vents and limping at full speed to the source of the disturbance.

A bot is sad, and you refuse to let this crime against existence continue a moment longer, even if said bot is the reason you're as injured as you are now. God as your witness, he will be comforted, and you'd like to see anyone try to stop you. Fort Max is going to get a hug, and you're gonna give it to him, and then you'll get rest. But only then.

Cue your little body swan diving from the vent above Max for a tactical embrace that hits like a well aimed missile.

On the other hand this idea could be heartwarming and also tearjerking.

With all the advanced technology available to the medical staff, your life threatening injuries were stabilized in minutes, though there's still ample pain and a sizable road to recovery ahead. All present medics agree you should rest for a few days after your... "ordeal", to regain your strength before any visitors are allowed. In response to your requests to at least communicate with Fort Max, you're gently told that he can't receive prisoners or messages in the brig after his actions, especially from those who were most grievously injured by said actions. It's difficult to argue them as you are, and with Rung lying motionless on his own recovery slab, his head gone and his thumb still unattached...

But you know the big mech is hurting. Of course you're also in some considerable physical distress yourself, but unlike you, Max doesn't have anyone there for his pain. That bothers you even after everything he's put you through.

Maybe it's so easy to forgive because it all seems as unreal now as it did then. He'd burst in just as you were preparing to leave so Rung could have his session with a surprisingly early Whirl, and while you'd freely admit to having been terrified, the agony in his optics had made it clear he wasn't acting out of anything but trauma. The bot you'd befriended had obviously not been in a good place, his aura giving the sense of anything but a gentle giant whilst he tried to demand what his tormented mind thought would make the pain finally stop. You'd known he was acting from fear just as well as your fellow hostages, despite being far less experienced in the area than they. Perhaps it was because of their survivalist knowledge that it was just you who'd been caught off guard, as you hadn't known just how badly afflicted Max was until your tiny body had ended up in his trembling fist, your breaths coming in so shallow you couldn't even cry for help...

Residual fear made you shudder on the slab, but instead of deterring you, the resulting pain only made you want to act.

Being a human had a number of advantages on a ship designed for giants, and the first was that no one had bothered to secure anything against a being of your size. The hardest part of escaping the medbay was simply getting up and finding the least painful way to walk, which admittedly was far from easy with your multitude of healing ribs. Ratchet would be furious if he knew what you were doing... Come to think of it, he would probably be as angry as could possibly be once he inevitably figured out you'd been out of bed at all, so all things considered there was no point in trying to go back now. That realization was surprisingly freeing.

The vents were your obvious solution even before you laid eyes on the opening and recalled their network ran the length of the entire ship.

How ironic was it, that you'd been instructed to use these in the event of an emergency, and your first time doing so was to defy orders? If this little stunt of yours succeeded and word got out, some of the crew would probably be proud of you. The rest would vary between fury and shock at such an unexpected move from their little human.

With your all in one communication tool, map, remote control and social media device of a wristband you have no trouble plotting a route. The only trouble will be getting there in your current state, completely without detection, and then making it back with equal levels of success. Only your stubborn refusal to leave a bot suffering stops you from giving up as soon as you see the distance ahead of you. Thankfully quick thinking and planning gets you some shortcuts, namely by ducking into hallways and grabbing mercifully empty elevators, but the journey is still a long and painful one. That time unfortunately gives you ample opportunity to think about what you'll say, which leads to you recalling exactly what needs to be forgiven, and that replays a number of horrifyingly fresh memories each time.

Pressure like you'd never experienced had threatened to crush your body as those powerful digits had closed in, only stopping when a number of your bones collapsed under the strain with reverberating cracks as they broke, an experience so painful you could still see the stars it had sent bursting before your eyes. Everything afterwards had been a chaotic blur, save for an expression of horrified guilt on a familiar face and the grainy footage of Overlord beaming whilst committing his trademark butchering, then darkness as large hands had carried you to safety...

Wiping sweat from your brow, you resist the painful urge to cough as you close in on the brig, knowing that a few of the prisoners will be dangerous enough that caution will be required. It's hard not to be afraid of the very idea of being grabbed once again, but that fiery determination keeps you moving through all the pain and exhaustion and admittedly logical fear. Focusing on Max as you knew him was your primary source of strength as you moved into the much smaller vents that ran through the cells. While still roomy enough for a human, they were impossible for a bot to fit through, likely to prevent escape attempts. Hopefully that would make getting through much safer for you.

Thin slots in the airways became your windows of guidance, due to the map being more than a little vague about navigating the brig. It was mostly as big as it was to ensure each cell had ample room for its occupant, a standard right for Autobot prisoners of war you were delighted to see but found none too simple to traverse. Darkness you didn't dare illuminate also complicated your mission. Quick glances outside of your little vents revealed glowing biolights and occasional flashes of optics you didn't recognize, and while you were fairly confident you could identify Max even in the dark, you were hardly eager to do so.

Luck gave you a rare break not too far into your little spying operation, one that couldn't have come too soon with exhaustion weighing you down and aches growing ever harder to ignore in your bandaged body.

Though he was larger than any other prisoner, you recognized Max by something completely unrelated to his appearance, and it immediately made you certain your decision to come down had been the right one. There was a kind of weariness to the hulking body seated on the floor of the cell, even though they were obviously awake, as if gravity was being artificially strengthened only for them. Upon a closer look you realized there was more than just fatigue dragging the occupant down; their entire being radiated such unimaginable grief it all but choked the air around them, making you wobble as if teetering on the edge of a bottomless well. Your heart threatened to shatter at the sight of a being enduring so much suffering. Hesitation of any kind evaporated in the face of your revitalized determination to console the mech who'd endured so much, as you refused to let this go on a moment longer.

"Max? In the vents, above you, it's Y/N."

In an underwhelming touch of irony your injuries actually made hushing yourself rather easy. Max slowly roused from his fog with every word you spoke, looking back and forth before casting his optics upwards and becoming aware enough to be shocked by what he saw. His expression was like a bot beholding a ghost.

"Y/N?! You're alive?"

The exclamation makes you sad and angry at the same time; really, no one had even given him that basic piece of mind? Sure there'd been a great deal of chaos, but letting him know he hadn't murdered you seemed rather routine, even after everything he'd done.

"It's okay, big guy. I'm okay." You assured, not realizing it wasn't quite true until the pain of simply existing with your injuries hit again. Hiding a wince, you grabbed at the corners of the vent as he continued to gape, easily sliding your hands into the crevices built to keep out much larger servos. "Hold on, I know these can open from the inside..."

"I don't understand..." He said, watching you like one might watch a dream unfold, standing and raising his cupped servos to catch you as the vent swung open. Perhaps the exhaustion was making you delirious, but there was no fear as you dropped the short distance into his waiting palms, despite what had happened the last time you'd been in his grasp. Perhaps the look of restrained hope in his optics put you at ease, as he didn't yet appear willing to believe this was real. Holding you like a blessing dropped by Primus himself, the giant mech sat down on the berth pushed against the wall, unable to stand under the weight of everything seeing you was making him feel.

"I thought... I was so sure I'd... You weren't even moving." He said softly, looking away as if he didn't deserve to see you alive after what he'd done. Perhaps you just had the softest heart in the universe, but such guilt in a truly gentle giant hurt more than any of your actual injuries. It was so easy to see the full scope of his trauma in the aftermath of everything, and how he obviously had been so far out of his usual self in the fog of pain and fear he'd been unable to stifle a moment longer... You wanted to help him so badly.

"I was hurt, but I'm alive. I'm going to be just fine." You assured, words halting just a bit when you included the "going" for the sake of accuracy. Currently you had a load of internal supports holding broken bones together, but with human medicine you'd have been immobile in a brace and multiple casts, probably for weeks. Even your forgiveness couldn't simply make that all go away.

"I'm... I don't know what to say." Came his reply after a long silence, his optics finally rising to meet your eyes. Though you hadn't been amongst Cybertronians for too long, you knew straight away that he'd been crying, as the tell tale dimness of his optics and slight discoloration of the mesh around them were unmistakable. Seeing that broke your heart more as you settled into his palm. Finding his voice again, he tried and failed to manage a bitter smile, the weight of his guilt making it impossible to attempt such an expression. "A little "sorry" feels pretty pathetic right about now."

Holding back the urge to cry, as well as the urge to lie down as adrenaline failed you and exhaustion started creeping in, you tried to offer encouragement. "It's okay, Max. I know you're sorry-"

"I'm so much more than sorry, Y/N."

The interruption wasn't at all firm, but it still stopped you with its unexpected weight.

"I'm... I'm so ashamed... I took a vow to protect all life, especially organic life, and I nearly killed you just to send a message. You've been nothing but nice since I got here, and this is how I pay that back? Nothing that... that happened to me could make that okay. You didn't deserve any of this, and neither did... neither did Rung..." Fading off with a crack in his voice, he let the tears fall without a care, not even letting out a sob as they pattered onto his armored chest. "But because I can't do much else, I'm sorry. To you, to everyone, for everything... I hope that helps you a bit."

Sniffling and unable to stop yourself, you wondered how proud Rung would be of the big bot if he could see him now, and you had to emphasize to yourself that one day you were going to get a chance to tell him.

"It does, but I'm not mad, okay?" You said as you tried and failed to scoot closer, realizing that you were unable to move much at all from the pain and weariness of the injuries you'd unsettled by trekking here. Paying it little mind, you looked up into those big optics and tried to convey as much forgiveness and encouragement as physically possible. "I don't know everything, but after enduring what you did... Max, I'm just so glad you're here. We're all gonna be okay; you, me, and Ratchet says Rung will be too so long as we all put the work in. That's probably true for all of us, we just need to focus on getting better. I'll be taking care of myself, and I'll be here for you every step of the way."

"Heh, are all humans this forgiving?" He said, actually managing the tiniest hint of a smile as he spoke. "I... I don't... It's going to be a lot of work, but I'll try for you. For now I do need to stay down here though, what I did... I can't just walk. You know that, right?"

Though you were aware that things could never be so simple, you were still sad as you nodded. It seemed the truly evil bots of the galaxy were quite content to keep letting others endure the fallout of their cruelty while never facing any consequences themselves... Had Overlord ever been truly punished for all the torment he'd caused? You were entering a bit of a fog at the thought when a loud commotion at the entrance to the brig got your attention as well as Maximus's.

"-cannot BELIEVE this. I always thought they were at least somewhat responsible, but they're giving your most brainless stunts a challenge!"

Ratchet's very identifiable and very angry tone carried right to the cell you two were seated inside. Max actually gave you a full on smile in his cupped palms, something like a long forgotten feeling of mischievous delight twinkling in the back of his brightening optics.

"Guess you've been found out, eh jailbreaker?"

You'd have laughed if not for the pain and the sound of Rodimus closing in with a not at all reserved yawn of exhaustion.

"Relax, Ratchet, it's too early to be yelling... Besides the scanner says they're fine and right... here."

The two mechs appeared beyond the bars in the darkened brig, and while neither looked especially happy, one was far more actively angry than the other. Somehow you weren't intimidated in the slightest to be caught. Perhaps it was because you were completely fine going back to bed, not to mention that there weren't a whole lot of punishments the bots could really give you, but most likely you were just glad to have accomplished everything you came down here for. Well, everything but one...

"Fortress Maximus, if you would... just hand over Y/N... I need to get them back to the medical bay." Ratchet said firmly, caution evident in every syllable. Unnecessary as it may have been, Max didn't seem to take offense, likely because the medic had saved his own life after Whirl had put him down. Standing slowly from the berth, he approached the cell door with you held carefully in his servos. It was at that moment you realized the big bot was actually cuffed at the wrists. The sight combined with the fact that he'd be all alone after you left made you remember one more thing that needed to be done, which you recalled just as you were about to be handed over.

"Hold on, just let me..." In a hurry, you stood up on the bots palm and forced your legs to cooperate, hobbling the short distance to his chest that he held you so close to and throwing your arms open wide for a clumsy but genuine embrace. Barely able to talk between everything going on inside of your broken body and beyond, you croaked out a final bit of encouragement, looking up as you plopped down and were quickly but gently snatched up by the waiting medic. "See you later, Max. I promise."

"See you soon, Y/N."

#transformers #maccadam #idw #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #tf #fort max #fortress maximus #human reader #self insert #my writing #my asks #requests

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