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loruleanheart · 3 years

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Desired Fate, Chapter 12

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Zelda poured over stacks of research notes at her writing table. As organized as it was, it was still proving difficult to locate what she was looking for.

The elixir recipe has to be in here somewhere…

She searched through the drawers, finding a neatly folded piece of paper tucked in a journal she’d used to write down field research notes.

Yes, I think this is it...

Zelda unfolded it, quickly appraising the recipe for the spicy elixir she had written down some time ago. She collected these recipes out of morbid fascination. She never imagined she’d be putting one to practical use.

It would be simple to gather the ingredients for the elixir, although she dreaded having to ingest the concoction that consisted of at least one monster part, likely from a bokoblin since they were so common and at least one creature that could give the elixir cold-resistant properties, likely an insect. These elixirs could be strengthened in effect or duration by adding additional monster parts, creatures, or plants.

I’m turning into Link, she thought grimly, recalling how Link had eaten rocks in her presence at least twice during their travels. It would be just like Link to drink one of these bizarre elixirs… or all of them…

Zelda grabbed an empty corked glass container to hold the elixir. She wrinkled her nose, imagining the taste of a potion that was created from the internal organs of a monster, and decided to bring an additional bottle to hold some water to wash it down.

The thought of Astor telling her she has bokoblin breath crossed her mind.

That is if he ever got close enough and we...

Zelda’s heart fluttered in her chest, and it took a moment to compose herself and focus on the task at hand.

She picked up the Sheikah Slate, pulling up its map function, which Purah had shown her recently after she and her fellow researchers had successfully activated the towers all over Hyrule. She studied it and decided the path she would take. The way through Dueling Peaks stood out to her at first, as it was the most well-established path, but taking a second look she saw a quicker, more direct route. Either way, she’d be passing through Kakariko village, which made her a little nervous. What if someone recognized her? Not that it would be the end of the world if someone did, Zelda reassured herself. It just wasn’t often that she went anywhere without an entourage of guards. The worst that could happen is one of the villagers would tell Impa she’d been spotted walking through the village alone. They probably wouldn’t guess where she was going, as Mount Lanayru was still some distance from the village.

She went to her wardrobe to grab a plain, dark cloak and put it on over her dress, adjusting the hood over her head. The cloak sat awkwardly over her long hair. She adjusted her hair so it would all fit comfortably inside the hood at the nape of her neck.

Leaving the comforts of her chambers was difficult. She had never done anything like this before. Still, the thought of staying put and doing nothing when the people of Hyrule were preparing for the worst was unconscionable. Soon there would be a mass exodus of people from Castle Town and she knew what they would think of her, thanks in part to her father’s never-ending scolding.

Outside, she was relieved to see the castle grounds were free of any guards, allowing her to walk out without incident. She supposed they had already been excused to retreat from Castle Town with their families. Her father was at least a benevolent king who cared for his people, despite his stern and sometimes harsh treatment of her. Zelda relaxed a bit and breathed deeply of the night air, looking out over the town from her vantage point as she made her way down the winding path.

Zelda cleared the gatehouse and then the main gate that led out into Castle Town, arriving in the central square. The gentle trickle of the fountain greeted her as the town slept. Zelda navigated through the empty cobblestone streets, heading for the final gate that would lead out into Hyrule Field. Once she had cleared the town’s gate, she headed east.

The grass swayed in the gentle breeze. The moon was high and bright allowing her to see her destination in the far distance. The Sheikah Slate shifted in the pocket of her cloak. As she walked, she let her mind wander, trying to focus on sweet daydreams to overcome the sense that she was in a race against her kingdom’s demise. She remembered how conflicted Astor had sounded the last time she spoke with him. Her heart swelled and she walked a little faster, feeling hopeful and foolish at once. Her heart beat steadily in her mind over the sound of crickets chirping. She didn’t look back at the castle as she moved further and further away. If she looked back, she knew she would lose her resolve.

Zelda neared a bokoblin camp. There were three of them, and fortunately for her, they were all in relative proximity to each other. She grabbed the Sheikah Slate from her cloak’s pocket and charged forward, giving a grunt of effort as she activated the remote bomb feature. By the time they noticed their unwelcome visitor it was too late. The pig-like creatures gave a chorus of animalistic shrieks just before they were blown sky-high. Zelda sighed in relief looking around the camp for whatever she could pillage for herself. There was a thick juicy steak cooking over an open flame. She was quite hungry now that she thought of it.

As Zelda moved towards the steak, a slew of bokoblin parts began to fall from the sky. Zelda flinched as purple guts rained down on her with an array of wet plops, some of them bursting upon impact. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

Zelda started working on the elixir after she had gained the nerve to gather the bokoblin guts and place them in a large cooking pot that already had a fire going under it. She stayed at the camp a few minutes waiting for a warm darner to appear and when one presented itself she caught it and added it to the pot. Slowly, everything began to liquefy, becoming an orange-red liquid. If she stood too close to the concoction her eyes began to water. Breathing in the peppery aroma the elixir gave off made her break into a coughing fit.

Success… Zelda thought to herself.

She carefully scooped the rim of the bottle through the liquid, letting it flow into the container. She corked it and put it away for later. Zelda moved to the nearby Hylia river and bent to scoop up some water in her cupped hands, greedily drinking to quench her immense thirst. She savored the crispness of it, and it sated the burning in her throat. She gathered some water in the second glass bottle and corked it. She climbed back up the embankment and crossed the Rebonae Bridge.

oOo

By late morning it was discovered that Zelda was missing. The few staff left at the castle descended into a frenzy, searching the castle and even spreading out into Castle Town to look for her.

Link and Impa knelt before King Rhoam who was furious.

“It seems my daughter has forsaken her divine duty and has fled. I fear all is lost…”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I don’t believe she would do such a thing. I’m sure that wherever she has gone she has a good reason.”

The king narrowed his eyes at the Sheikah advisor. “Then where has she gone and what is she doing? This is unacceptable! You two are her closest companions. You must know something! If you are hiding something from me, I will hold you both personally responsible!”

Impa shifted nervously, shooting a brief look at Link for support. “Uh… S-she might be with a certain individual… He… He might have taken her, but then again, she might have gone with him willingly. I really can’t say for sure either way…. I don’t want to point any fingers, though, and I mean no disrespect towards the Princess…”

“What do you mean ‘went with him willingly’?” King Rhoam snapped, his anger flaring. “Who is this individual?”

“Uh… Let’s just say he’s a prophet with exclusive knowledge of the Calamity.”

Link gave Impa an incredulous look. Impa could only imagine what the young knight was thinking.

Smooth, Impa, real smooth. You really know how to spin things.

“Hmm… A prophet…” Rhoam paused, contemplating this. “This still does not sit well with me… Especially the fact that you don’t sound very certain about this man’s intentions at all... Send word to the Champions at once to leave their Divine Beasts for the time being. Inform them of the situation and have them assist in searching for her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Impa bowed, and they turned to leave the sanctum.

“It can’t be true can it?” Impa whispered to Link. “The other night when Astor interrupted Zelda’s prayers at the Spring of Courage… We have no idea what was said between the two. What are the chances Zelda’s disappearance has something to do with him? What if… What if they both turned from their respective roles and ran as far as they could?”

Link regarded her. He seemed to consider what she was saying, a serious look in his blue eyes but refraining from expressing his thoughts on the matter, committed to silently bearing his duty, no matter what unexpected turns fate threw at him.

“Ugh… sorry, I’m just rambling, I guess.” Said Impa. “I don’t want to believe Zelda would just give up like that, but if she did... I guess I would understand why…”

oOo

Zelda had, at last, reached the gate that marked the entrance to Mount Lanayru. At the base of Mount Lanayru was a beautiful, tranquil field. This would probably be the last moment of relative comfort, for once she started her ascent the air would only grow colder the higher she went. She had to do some light climbing to reach the start of the path up the mountain. She followed the winding path up the mountain, and soon she noticed it was snowing lightly. The change in temperature was dramatic, and when she became too cold for her liking, she took a small sip of the spicy elixir. It wasn’t as foul as she’d been anticipating, so she was able to consume the rest, although slowly. Even after chasing the elixir with water, she could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. The cold became tolerable, and soon, any unpleasant burning aftertaste faded.

The path up the mountain was steep, marked every so often with a segment of stone steps. Her legs began to ache but knew that if she stopped it would hurt to resume moving again. She wouldn’t stop until she stood before the Hylia statue at the Spring of Wisdom.

She sensed she was at a high altitude now. A cutting gust of wind snapped back the hood of her cloak and violently ruffled her thick hair. As she tried to pull the hood back in place, the wind hit again, stronger this time, and it took her breath away for several beats. She struggled to take a breath, gasping for air. Still, she pushed up and onward.

Her legs were about to give when she, at long last, reached the spring. She wondered how the water wasn’t solid ice given the frigid temperature. She stepped into the spring, starting to shiver as the ice-cold water touched her skin up to her shins. She couldn’t turn back now, she’d come too far and was finally at her destination.

She forced herself further down the spring, following the stone path below the water’s surface, coming to stand where the crest of Hylia was etched. She clasped her hands together, barely being able to form a coherent thought. Are the effects of the elixir wearing off, she wondered with rising alarm.

She braced herself against the immense cold, squeezing her eyes shut. “Goddess Hylia, please… I came all the way up here... I don’t understand… Don’t you want me to awaken my power?”

Her chest felt so tight. She could feel the bones ache in her fingers. She couldn’t stop herself from visibly shivering. The cloak that had felt so heavy and substantial all the way here, suddenly felt paper-thin now.

Had she made a mistake? One she would pay for with her life? There was no way she was going to make it back down the mountain. She was far too cold, and far too exhausted to turn back.

“Please… Didn’t you call me here?”

oOo

The seer watched the princess in the ancient Sheikah orb. She was praying at the Spring of Wisdom, just as she had said she would. The girl’s breath was visible, coming out in steady puffs from her pale lips.

The seer hesitated. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was never meant to make it up to that spring, especially not alone and not this early. Astor could sense the goddess at work, altering fate’s course and forcing his hand. He had to choose and seal his ultimate fate.

He had once sworn to crush beneath his heel those who were trying to defy fate’s rightful course. No, not fate… Calamity Ganon’s will. The truth was slowly starting to dawn on him. He’d been so deluded by the Calamity for so long, only falling further into those delusions when he’d found the Harbinger. But fate had a true course, and even that was being rewritten. The hardest thing to accept was that it was being rewritten for his benefit. Why him? He never would have considered that a goddess would give second chances to those that turned their back on her in favor of serving an all-consuming evil entity.

Hyrule’s two most powerful beings were at war over him. He was a tool to both, although he had to surrender to the fact that the goddess had far more benign plans for him. He’d be a fool to fight Hylia’s plan, but it still felt wrong. He’d repressed human desires for such a long time, or rather serving the Calamity had nearly destroyed all those desires, leaving barely a whisper of humanity in him.

Could the princess really be his? He could no longer fight or deny his want for her… Or was it he who would be hers? Astor wasn’t sure. It was the princess who had pursued him and won him over. He was vaguely aware his thoughts of her were consuming him, slowly changing him.

He recalled the last thing she had said to him.

I hope you will allow me to give you what the Calamity cannot.

Her words echoed through his mind. Those words had sent him spiraling. He wanted so much to do the same to her somehow.

And so Astor willed himself to that place. He appeared behind her on the stone platform, the frigid temperatures immediately hitting him.

Zelda turned, taking notice of him. Her eyes widened and her lips parted to speak, but she had no words. Overcome, Zelda ran to him, up the steps and onto the stone platform he stood.

“So... Cold!” She threw herself at him, burying her frozen hands into his robes. Astor cried out in surprise, vanishing from the Spring of Wisdom, taking her with him. And for a brief moment in time they were neither here nor there, but still locked in that embrace.

The princess was still shivering intensely when they reappeared at the base of Mount Lanayru, back in that tranquil field.

She hung on to him, trying to steal what little warmth his body and clothing could give. It occurred to her that he must have been watching her, knowing exactly where she was and when she was in trouble. “You… You came to save me?”

He didn’t know how to act towards her, doubling down. “Quite bold of you to make that assumption.” He said coldly. “Perhaps I only came to witness your demise brought on by your ill-conceived plan, but alas it seems I have inadvertently saved you…” He pried her off of him and pushed her away, yet it was far too gentle for someone who had once plotted her death. His fingers brushed against her ice-cold ones, and he flinched from the contact.

Zelda’s heart fell. “If you were still loyal to Ganon, you would have just left me to die… Please, stop playing games with me... I can’t stand this… I’m so cold.” She came close again, trying to bury herself in him once again. She must have been starved for affection and validation to be seeking it from him of all people. Astor halfheartedly held out a hand, trying to keep her at bay. He wanted so badly to give in to her, but her touch was paralyzing, for it ignited a chain of images in his mind’s eye. The visions were too rapid to interpret or understand, but still, they left him with a strange feeling. She may not have been able to find her power, but she had certainly managed to awaken something in him.

Zelda gave him a dejected look. “Thank you for saving me...” She said self-consciously, before beginning to head back toward the Lanayru Promenade. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, still feeling the effects of the cold. Astor couldn’t help but follow, each step a subconscious desire to stay at her side.

They walked for a while in silence down Lanayru Promenade, its beautiful ancient stonework covered in moss.

Zelda came to a stop, near the edge of the path, overlooking the water. Her fist was wrapped tightly around the handle of the Sheikah Slate. “That was my last chance… Looks like I’m just not meant to awaken this power… But why…? Why won’t it awaken for me?”

Astor paused, her words deeply affecting him for reasons he couldn’t understand. He felt like a ghost of his former self, now numb to Calamity Ganon. The vision of the princess and the knight at Blatchery Plains ran through his mind, sobering him. It made Astor anxious that she would ultimately give up on him and find validation in the most obvious of places - that boy. Was it possible for fate to circle back around and bite him in such a cruel way?

“My seventeenth birthday is... tomorrow… There’s no more time…” Zelda’s voice cracked in a pitiful way. She stood perfectly still, her back to him. “I really am just a failure.” Zelda gave a horrible, soul-rending sob and pitched the cloak she’d been wearing into the waters below.

Laughter erupted through the promenade, catching Astor and Zelda’s attention. They looked up to see Kohga and Sooga watching them from a perch high above them.

“Well, well, well… Look here, Sooga… The doomed prophet and the heiress to a throne of nothing together at last… I never saw this coming.” Kohga howled with sarcasm. “Is that a banana in your pocket, Prophet? Or are you just happy to see the pr-”

Astor clapped his hands over his ears, his irises constricting. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Astor screamed. “I’m going to consign you degenerate pests to oblivion if it’s the last thing I do!”

Zelda sniffed, blinking several times as if caught off guard and deeply confused.

Astor was dying inside, the desire to throw himself off the edge of the promenade only increasing. He fantasized about all the ways he could kill Kohga, but he couldn’t help but admit Zelda’s reaction was strangely endearing. Had Kohga’s terrible joke actually got her to stop crying?

“Yiga assemble! Cut down the false prophet and the girl who carries the blood of the goddess!” Kohga clapped his hands together, summoning his footsoldiers, each bursting into the scene, scrolls falling around them. The footsoldiers began to swarm Zelda and Astor, while Kohga and Sooga vanished.

One of the footsoldiers took a running jump towards Zelda, swinging his sickle. Zelda gasped, losing her footing as she stepped back, nearly falling into the water. Astor moved quickly, grabbing Zelda by the wrist and pulling her close to him.

With his free hand, Astor summoned his orb, hoping Calamity Ganon’s power hadn’t forsaken him yet as he called forth a Hollow. The Hollow of the princess’s appointed knight appeared in an instant and rushed at the Yiga footsoldiers with horrifying speed.

The footsoldiers screamed in recognition of the hero’s likeness, holding their sickles at the ready. The malice being wielded its ‘sword’ just as skillfully as the hero himself, expertly blocking any attacks the members of the Yiga Clan threw at it. It made short work of the footsoldiers, hacking and slashing until they each fell, nearing death. The Princess stood very still as she watched it all play out before her in morbid fascination, wide-eyed and still held in Astor’s grasp.

The footsoldier’s bodies jerked and spasmed, giving up the ghost, or in this case red-purple spheres of energy that rose out of their chests one by one, being drawn out by the power of malice Astor wielded. The spheres floated delicately in the air, and Zelda could just make out a faint electrical pulse within. Astor raised his chin in a ‘come here’ motion, and the spheres barreled through the air with a ghastly howl towards the pair. Zelda shut her eyes and flinched away, only to realize that the spheres had been absorbed into the orb Astor held.

Astor released Zelda from his grasp and stepped away, looking surprised. He had saved her, again, on his own volition this time. He had held her so close, and the moment had passed too quickly, barely having acknowledged it at the moment due to being under attack.

Zelda regarded him silently, waiting for him to speak. He looked as if he was waiting for Calamity Ganon to strike him down.

“If you’re going to perish, it must be by my hand...” Said Astor, as a way of an excuse, as confidently as he could muster.

Zelda’s face fell. The fear and anticipation of the impending Calamity hung palpably between them. Zelda thought of her father, her anxieties mounting. She didn’t know how she was going to face him knowing she’d broken Lanayru’s decree and failed to awaken her powers yet again. “Well... I don’t suppose you’d like to accompany me back to the castle? Father might want to kill me when he finds out where I’ve been.” Zelda gave a nervous smile.

Astor smiled a bit. This girl thought she was clever. “I can do that…” In truth, he’d follow her anywhere at this point.

This took Zelda by surprise. Her features contorted a bit, nearly breaking into tears again. She gave a small exhale of relief. “Thank you…”

#Age of Calamity #Astor #Zelast #fanfiction #Giving this dying tag a much needed shot of adrenaline

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #buckysam #sebastian stan #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

If you’re still doing requestsssssss how about a hcs of Dazai x fem! Reader who is like Midari from Kakegurui 😌

Ooh thats a nice one! Yes love, I'm still doing requestss

And I'm so sorry, this is so late... also it's very long n I'm not exaggerating. It's not even funny I'm so sorry

I'm Crazy, But I'm Free

Dazai x Fem!reader who is like Midari

• You and Dazai probably met during his days at the port mafia.

• I can imagine the mafia capturing you because of how much trouble you were causing in a casino.

• UK, when big businesses pay gangsters for security?? Yeah, similarly the casino you were playing at, has paid the mafia.

• You were already banned from many other casinos, as your games either end with you gaining a lot of money, or begin with a dangerous condition.

• Many people were quite afraid of you, and wanted to avoid even being in the same room as you, as they couldn't handle the severity of the danger you pose with every game.

• Anyways, so you were warned by a few members of the mafia twice, but you, being the fearless adventurer you are, flipped them off and continued to seek a life threatening game.

• So then the mafia decided to use violence, and cornered you in a dark alley. You pulled out your beloved gun.

"Well, well, well! Do you boys want a fight!?", you excitedly point the gun at them.

"Put your weapon down, Ms. L/N. We are here to warn you for the final time. Stay away from this casino. Further misbehavior will lead to dangerous consequences."

You hum, thinking up a plan.

"How about this. My revolver has 5 bullets. And there are five of us. How about we all take turns to shoot blindfolded!"

You excitedly shove them in a circular arrangement.

"I'll go first! The rules are that every person gets a chance to shoot from the center of the circle. If the bullet misses, everyone takes a step ahead, closer to the center."

You explain, grinning at the men clad in all black.

"If a bullet hits me, I'll agree to your terms. If it hits one of you lot, then you can't stop me anymore. What do you say?!"

The mafiosi were weirded out by this. What if you had a good aim, or an ability that allowed you to shoot them with your eyes closed? They didn't have much intel on you, and only knew you to be a girl from a rich background, who had come to Yokohama for higher studies.

"That's enough. Grab her-"

• Thats when our boy showed up. Dazai was curious when he overheard some of the men talk about some 'fearless girl that had flipped them off even after two rather threatening warnings.'

• So he had decided to tag along, staying in the shadows, until now.

• "I think it will be a wonderful idea. Play along, gentlemen. I want to see where this goes."

• You shot, and missed. So did the other guy. Then the other one. Now, the circle had shrunk really small. You were almost in the line of fire at this point. There was an 80% chance of getting shot.

• "That's enough." ,Dazai said, as he walked to stand in front of you.

• "You are daring, aren't you. You're not afraid of death."

• Staring into his eyes, you saw a reflection of yourself. A dark, lost soul stared back at you.

• "In fact, you arranged this little game to ensure that you got hurt. You perfectly planned it out, and ensured that as the circle gets smaller, you would be in the direct line of fire."

• "You missed the first shot on purpose, didn't you?"

• He had seen right through your game.

'What's this guy's deal?', you thought.

"Why would you stop the game when it was at its peak? Hah? Whats wrong with you, man?!", you angrily grab his collar. "I was just beginning to have fun, and here you are, ruinjng it!"

• Taken aback by your bravery, he just blinked at you.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, obviously, idiot. But that doesn't give you any right to interrupt our game."

"Oh? So who do you think I am."

You give him a 'baka janiono?' look.

"You are their leader. Probably an executive of the mafia, judging by your expensive suit. Why?"

The thoughts running through Dazai's head were along the lines of :

'Just who is this girl? How does she know about the mafia? Surely my men weren't dumb enough to tell her who they work for. How does she know about my position? She surely didn't just guess that, right?? And why the fuck does a student have a gun? Does her family have connections within the underworld? She obviously doesn't fear death. Will she be a good addition to the mafia?'

• "What are you thinking about, baka? Answer me."

• He smiled sweetly at you, and firmly gripped your wrist, pushing it off his collar.

"There's someone who would like to meet you"

Before you can retort back, he continues,"You seek adventure, do you not? You want to feel something worthwhile. Something akin to facing death, something that will give you an adrenaline rush. I can give you all of that. If you come with me, that is."

• Mori was shocked when he heard about what had happened. He agreed with Dazai's decision to make you join the ranks. He needed such fearless crackheads in his organization.

• He paired you up with the double black, making you an executive too. You hadn't quite agreed to his terms, but he had offered you to just accompany the ginger and the brunette on a mission. And had let you make the final decision .

• You three had to go to an abandoned warehouse, where some people were tampering with the mafia goods. There, you saw how sadistic Dazai was. How manipulative and bad he was. It made you fall for him. Hard. Plus, you realized the risk of being a mafiosi. It was quite thrilling.

• When you got back, you had screamed at mori to let you join. Quite literally begged. And he, ofcourse, agreed. You hadn't even given him a chance to threaten your life, which was the usual norm, when a valuable asset wasn't willing to join the ranks of the feared organization.

• You trained with dazai. And purposely got hit. It turned you on. But you never mentioned anything, in fear of being rejected.

• Dazai, ofcourse, noticed this, and one fine day, confronted you about it. You told him just how much you love him. He was always intrigued by your sadistic side. He saw a part of himself in you. The daring, brave, smart side of yours was something so similar to himself, yet unique. You were seeking the same thing that he was, that is to feel something. He felt sadness, and loneliness, and he never had a purpose in life. You, someone who had it all, a good family, a great marksheet, and a pre set goal in life, were willing to give it away, just to feel something. He, someone who was stripped off of a normal childhood, was never given the opportunity to choose. He used to think that maybe he was to blame. Maybe if he had had better luck, he would have gotten a good childhood, a purpose. But now that he knows you, a genius, smart person, who had it all, but threw it away, he realized that maybe life really is worthless. Maybe, he wasn't to be blamed. And that, oddly enough, made him feel better. To know that no matter how much lady luck favors him, life would still be fucked up, and that it wasn't his fault, made him hate himself less.

• And so, you two became a thing.

• Let's just say, that both of you are equally freaky.

• You want him to dom u, and he gladly accepts

• You guys try it all... I mean, especially with guns.

• I can imagine you both sitting at a boring meeting, when you decide to edge him on, and you're not even touching him. Your gun is.

• You both claim atleast one spare room on every floor of the building, for your.... activities.

• You are like his praise queen.

• He loves that.

• Always rough. Always. And you guys are into spicing it up.

• Anyways, you both never decide to commit double suicide.

• Thats because dazai wants a beautiful way out, while you want to feel the thrill of facing death. You don't really want to die, you just want to know the feeling of almost dying. You want to feel something exhilarating.

• When Dazai decides to leave the mafia, you are all for it. As long as you get to stay by his side, you were ok with it.

• Like Midari, you are a very perceptive person, and can easily guess what's going on in someone's mind. Dazai was easy to read for you, as his thoughts were pretty similar to your own.

• You were smart, cunning, and could read peoples mind with ease. So it was pretty easy for you to guess what's going on in Dazai's mind, sometimes even predicting his next moves.

• You really fit in with the ada, coz that place is filled with crackheads, and you and dazai are no exception lol

• Also, you get along with Yosano really well.

• Like, if you weren't so loyal to dazai, you would have become Yosanos slave. So would i ngl

• Anyways, you and dazai always mess with kunikida. You two prank him till the breaking point. You two are such a menace in the office. Always skipping work, slacking off, but really shining when it comes to actual detective work, like solving mysteries.

• You are a valuable asset to the ada, coz 1. You are smart and 2. You can intimidate the enemy into giving in, thanks to your sadistic games.

• You are also a very good companion. You can easily understand what the other is feeling, and end up comforting the gang.

• I can imagine you roasting Kunikida for being such a nerd, but at the same time giving him accurate and well needed advice .

• You do the same for your bf, and the two of you have many late night convos about topic that Dazai had never discussed with anyone before. Because no one had quite understood him the way you did.

• Midari is actually a pretty deep character, and just like her, you have many layers. There's the sadistic side, the goofy side, the careless side, the intelligent side and the insightful nature.

• You would be his perfect partner, as you'd support his crazy, reckless ideas, but at the same time keep him afloat, and prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (12)

(Are you guys getting tagged for these??? I’ve been putting all of the names on here, but it doesn’t look right.. anyway, sorry if the tag doesn’t work. I tried!!! Anyone else who wants to get tagged or asked but isn’t getting tagged, please contact me and let me know!!!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 11 / Ch. 13 (ao3) (Journal Entries- a mini series connected to this fic)

Chapter 12: Quiet Conflictions of the Heart

Felix tapped his pencil against his textbook, staring blankly at the words that he wasn’t reading. The minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock that sat across the room next to the stairs, informing him of exactly how much time he was wasting by sitting there, and moonlight poured through the wide windows in front of him, signifying the beginnings of the evening. The fact that he started this assignment during the day and still had hardly anything done should have been frustrating, but Felix’s mind was too far lost in other thoughts for him to care.

As soon as Rosemary found out about his direct involvement with the akuma, they sent him, along with Marinette and the others, home for the day with light homework assignments and instructions to “take it easy”. The procedure was meant to help them regain composure and process the traumatizing events, but it only gave Felix more time to think.

And think.

And overthink. About him hitting the ground with Marinette, about her pulling them behind the fence only to run right out again, about her shocked and panicked expression upon being picked up by the akuma.

About her flailing body falling from the sky.

Felix set his pencil down and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. That scream still rang in his mind even hours later, sharp and blood-curdling, like a constant echo of a bad dream. He couldn’t help wondering what might have happened had Chat Noir not arrived on time, how she might have felt hitting the pavement, or if she would have survived at all. The very thought left him gripping his textbook and forcing a deep breath to relax. It hadn’t happened, after all. She was fine. Everything was fine..

And yet, no matter how many times he tried to push the gruesome images out of his mind, they continued to worm their way back in, fueled by how tame Allegra, Claude, and Allan’s reactions had been towards Marinette’s incredible risk of self. The girl almost died multiple times over the course of a single hour, and the only thing those idiots did was hug her and tell her that her actions were justified. Who cares if they were justified! Justification does not equate to rationality, and doing something for a good cause doesn’t always mean that it’s the right- or wise! -thing to do.

Normally, he could brush it off and ignore it. The experience had been daunting, of course, but he could accept it knowing that Marinette had learned her lesson, realized how stupid her decision was, and vowed not to do it again. The problem came with the little fact that Marinette hadn’t learned her lesson. Oh, she’d apologized and admitted that her actions weren’t properly thought through, but it was clear that she didn’t intend on waiting for the heroes any time soon. He couldn’t quite explain how he knew- maybe it was how calm she looked when she returned, as though everything had been in her control the entire time, or how she only smiled when he asked her not to do it again instead of fervently agreeing to his request -but he knew. Her entire demeanor gave way to her belief that her sacrifice had been both necessary and acceptable, and it disturbed him to think of how far she might be willing to go under that belief. What if she challenged another akuma that wasn’t nearly as polite or rational? What if she was alone next time this happened and didn’t have Allegra or Claude or himself to help her when things inevitably got out of hand? Why was she so willing to throw away her own life without a second thought?

“Felix?”

Felix flinched, his eyes snapping upwards. His mother stood next to the couch with a frown, which was odd. He hadn’t heard any footsteps approaching. How long had she been standing there?

Bridgette shot him a concerned look as she sat down next to him. “Are you alright, sweetheart? You’ve been on that same page for half an hour now.”

It’s been longer than that. He thought to himself, plucking up his pencil and closing his textbook. There was no point in leaving it open if he wasn’t going to read it.

“It’s nothing.” He muttered. “History homework just tends to be monotonous after a while.”

Bridgette narrowed her eyes at him, though her tone remained gentle as she said, “Oh, come now. You don’t expect me to believe that. We both know that you would sit and read every history book available if you had the time. What’s wrong?”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She could always read him well. Too well at times.

“Is it about the akuma attack?”

Felix felt himself stiffen, and he silently chided himself for it. That would be all she needed from him to know the answer.

It’s not that he wanted to hide his distress from her. He was simply unsure of whether he wanted to talk about it or not. The threat was over now, meaning all of this worrying was somewhat unreasonable, and Felix didn’t want to express irrational thoughts to his mother only for them to fade away by morning. It would just make this a bigger problem than it probably was.

Then again, watching your classmate casually wave off their jumping headfirst into an akuma and almost dying was a decently sized problem.

Bridgette lightly touched his shoulder. “Felix, honey, if it’s bothering you, then you need to talk about it. You can’t let things like this weigh on your mind unattended. It doesn’t have to be with me, but communicate with someone, please.”

The amount of earnestness in her voice caused him to avert his gaze, and he began tapping his finger on the arm of the couch. Her wording could almost be considered amusing, as he had no one else to talk to aside from her and Father. Allegra, Claude, and Allan clearly didn’t care as much about the subject as he did- not to mention, he’d rather spend his days putting up ad posters for Adrien Agreste than confide in them about anything personal -and Marinette was the cause of the problem. Besides hovering around those four, Felix was a common shut-in who proudly (and happily) hid himself away in the penthouse with his books and, on pleasant occasions, Mother’s tea.

Nevertheless, he knew that Bridgette was right. He needed to get these tangled ponderings off of his chest, but to do that, he’d have to unravel them first. Where should he start? The attack seemed as though it had happened within five minutes, yet it also seemed to drag on for hours. Time is a shaky illusion when your entire body is buzzing with adrenaline.

“I just don’t understand,” He said slowly, beginning with the thoughts at the forefront of his mind, “how they can all act like nothing happened. Marinette risked her life for no reason, and they all want to treat it as though it’s an everyday occurrence.”

“Who risked their life?”

Felix and Bridgette turned towards the stairs, where Felix’s father was now standing. The man’s eyebrows knitted together as he continued his descent, similar to how Bridgette’s expression had been a moment earlier, and in a few, long strides, he was standing in front of them.

“Oh, Francis.” Bridgette greeted with a smile. “I thought you were still working.”

“I was,” Francis replied, leaning down to give her a light peck on the lips, “but I came down to get a drink. What’s all this about someone risking their life?”

“Apparently, Marinette did during the akuma attack today.”

A disapproving hum came from him as he settled on the couch next to Bridgette. “Isn’t that the girl from school that he’s always talking about?”

Felix bristled. “I don’t always talk about her.”

A soft chuckle fell from his mother’s lips. “You do talk about her more often than anyone else, though.”

“Can we get back to the point?”

“Of course.” Francis said, lazily wrapping an arm around his wife. She leaned back against him naturally. “Start from the beginning. How did you get caught up in this akuma business in the first place?”

Felix sighed, letting his irritation quiet down before thinking back on the attack. Where were they when it happened again?

“I believe we were exiting the café.” He said. “Claude was telling some story as we walked to our cars, so we didn’t notice the akuma flying towards us until she was landing in this gust of wind that knocked us over.”

A ghost pain trailed up his back at the memory of skidding across the pavement. He didn’t get a chance to see it during the battle, but the prickling sting of the injury told him that his shoulders and back had been scraped up immensely, especially during the second blast. If the miraculous cure hadn’t healed him, he probably wouldn’t hadn’t been able to sit up straight now.

“As you can imagine, we were all terrified, since we’d never seen anything like this in person before, but Marinette wasn’t. She grabbed all of us and helped us hide behind a fence within the first few seconds of falling. It was like she hadn’t been phased by it at all.”

“Perhaps she’s simply more level-headed during a crisis.” His father suggested.

“I’d assume so,” Felix replied, “but it’s strange considering she’s usually someone who would jump at their own shadow.”

“True, but people with anxiety can still flourish in a stressful environment.” Bridgette remarked.

Felix tilted his head in a nod. He supposed that was true.

“The akuma said she wasn’t going to hurt anyone, only the buildings to get the heroes’ attention.” He continued. “But Marinette didn’t like the thought of that, saying the people in the buildings might get hurt or killed. So she decided to counter the claim by running out to the akuma to lure them away.”

“That’s very noble of her.” Francis commented.

Felix tisked. How many times has he heard that now?

“Noble and stupid. She was a powerless bystander running straight into danger. Am I the only one who sees a problem with that?”

“Sometimes you have to try to do what’s right even though you might not be able to succeed,” Bridgette said softly, “but I can understand why you would be distraught about her actions. You didn’t want to see her get hurt, and that’s not a bad thing. It proves you care.”

Felix’s gaze flicked to the ground. Admitting his recent attachment to Marinette hadn’t sounded irksome before. She was a kind and compassionate person who hadn’t failed yet in giving him a sense of satisfaction after each of their conversations. Anyone with half a brain would gravitate towards her presence. After everything that’s happened today, however, a part of him was starting to resent that sentiment. Why did he have to care for the one person who would openly throw themselves to the wolves without prompting?

“What happened next?” His mother prompted, tugging him from his thoughts.

Felix drew in a breath and continued again. “She told the akuma that she could lead them to the bigger, corporate buildings, since that was apparently what they wanted. I didn’t understand it at the time, because wouldn’t that bring more death? But looking back on it now, it was probably a ploy to stall time. I doubt she actually intended on leading the akuma anywhere.”

It was quick thinking, considering they’d all gotten attacked seconds earlier, but it hadn’t been quick enough to account for the consequences.

“The akuma accepted the offer and used more wind to carry Marinette into the air with them.” Felix paused, Allegra’s horrified cry resurfacing in his mind. “It was.. nerve wracking. We didn’t know what was going to happen or what the akuma was going to do to her later on.”

Bridgette reached forward and rubbed his upper arm, giving her silent support, and Felix leaned into her touch as thanks.

“I ran after them. I’m not really sure how, but I did.” He said, gazing absently towards the windows again. His reflection stared back at him, along with the glittering stars and illuminated city behind it. How many alleyways did he run through? Five? Seven? He knew he couldn’t see the cafe by the time he stopped, nor could he hear Allegra and the others calling.

“I followed them for a few blocks,” He resumed, deeming the exact number of alleyways unimportant. It was what came next that shook him to his core. “I thought I had lost them at one point, but then I caught a glimpse of Marinette in the air again. She looked like she was talking with the akuma again, but I couldn’t hear what was being said. Then..”

Felix briefly closed his eyes, once again trying to push the image of Marinette’s flailing body out of his mind.

It didn’t work.

“..Then she fell.” His voice was quieter than he expected, but he kept going anyway. “I’m not sure what happened. All I saw was this silver pole that came out of nowhere and hit the akuma, and suddenly, Marinette was falling from the sky and screaming.”

And screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming. He had to stand there and watch her fall, knowing full well that he couldn’t do a thing to save her. The feeling of helplessness that overtook him in that moment had been overbearing.

A classmate passing away was not something he hadn’t experienced before- accidents happened every year, and sometimes, those accidents involved Rosemary students- but he’d never witnessed their deaths personally. It was something you heard about over the morning announcements or from your teacher at the beginning of class, not something you stood there and watched in a daze, and he’d certainly never lost someone that he-- someone that was so-

“I heard later that Chat Noir saved her mid-air.” He added, if only to help his parents’ nerves. The anxiety crawling across their expressions was evident. “I wasn’t aware of that until after I went to look for her, though.”

Until after he scoured the dismantled streets and ever-increasing debris for signs of her. Until after he lifted boulder upon boulder by adrenaline alone and being torn about whether he’d want to see her under one or not. Until after he called her name till his voice was hoarse and searched relentlessly for some kind of clue, like a shoe or a purse or even blood.

Gosh, he looked for blood! Felix was out there, in the middle of a terrorist attack, looking for the lifeless corpse or the splattered blood of his classmate, and everyone wanted to act like that was fine simply because she came back alright. How could any of them be considered alright after that?

“She could have died.” He stated for the millionth time it felt like. She probably will die if she keeps doing this. “But no one seems to care. They all brush it off because she’s safe now, instead of worrying about the fact that she purposely decided not to be safe beforehand.”

Bridgette let out a breath and pulled Felix into a hug.

“I’m so sorry that you had to endure that.” She whispered, her voice full of emotion. It reminded him of Marinette’s apology back at the cafe. The way she carefully held his hand, the warmth of her palm against his- it told him, in that moment, that she truly was there and that she truly was safe again. That confirmation had admittedly been one of the things to keep him from unraveling towards the end of the fight.

Felix felt the slender fingers of his father ruffle through his hair. “You went through something that no one should have to go through, but you also made it out alive. And so did everyone else. Remember that.”

Bridgette’s cheek brushed against Felix’s forehead as she nodded. “I know it’s scary, and you have a right to acknowledge it in your own way, but don’t let yourself get carried away with the ‘what if’s and ‘what should have been’s'. You’ll never be satisfied with them.”

Felix heaved a heavy sigh and allowed his eyes to drift shut. After a full day of almost dying, almost watching someone else die, and worrying about both of those subjects for hours on end, he was officially exhausted. Felix couldn’t remember the last time he’d put so much energy into a single event.

Maybe it was best to just let it go..

~~~~~~

By the time Marinette arrived home from Rosemary, her parents were beside themselves with worry. Apparently, they saw her on the news while they were working and spent the last hour and a half trying to reach her. Marinette had been either running around as Ladybug or talking with Allegra on the phone so she hadn’t noticed her phone ringing.

They doted on her and hovered around her for a good twenty minutes, with Marinette insisting that she was fine and apologizing the entire time.

“Chat Noir saved me before I could really get hurt.” She assured, plastering on a bright smile. “And the miraculous cure healed any scratches that I might have gotten. See?-” she held her arms up and did a small twirl “-I really am fine. But I’ll try to keep my ringtone on from now on.”

Her parents’ worried looks didn’t change.

“We were hoping that transferring schools would keep you away from akumas.” Her papa lamented. “How do you keep getting caught up in these fights?”

“I don’t know, Papa.” She replied honestly. Maybe some of her partner’s bad luck had rubbed off on her. “I was hoping I wouldn’t run into any more akumas too.”

Sabine sighed and gently rubbed her daughters back. “Well, as long as you’re alright.. Would you like to see the package that came for you?”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “A package? For me?”

Tom nodded, a small smile returning to his features. “From a Mr. Claude Herolds. We put it upstairs in the living room.”

“Tried to.” Sabine corrected under her breath.

Marinette tilted her head slightly. A package from Claude? But what could he be giving her that he couldn’t give in perso-

“My fabrics!” She gasped, immediately shooting for the stairs. Her parents chuckled behind her, but she hardly heard them in her excitement. The fabrics finally came! How many were there going to be? What kind of fabrics? He hadn’t really specified when he talked about buying them, though she gave him as detailed of a list as she could. Oh, please, be the good ones-

Marinette threw the front door to their apartment open, coming to a dead stop as soon as she entered. The mere sight of their living room had her jaw dropping to the floor.

Claude had indeed sent her a package of fabrics, but her parents happened to leave out exactly how much fabric he had sent. There were rolls upon rolls lining the couch and the floor, hiding in the corners of the room, sitting on the coffee table and the dining room table- it was too much to count. She was quite certain that she couldn’t see the floor!

Just- Just fabrics.

Fabrics everywhere.

Marinette turned to her parents, who had since caught up to her. They shared eager smiles as they waited for her reaction, and she quickly found herself smiling as well. In fact, she found herself down right laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Who needs this much fabric for three suits? How did Maman and Papa manage to bring it up in the first place? What did the deliverer think as he loaded this up into his truck to take to one person? How was she going to fit it all into her room?

Nevertheless, despite the insanity of the situation, she couldn’t help being ecstatic. This was more fabric than she could have ever dreamed of having, and it was all of the highest quality. So, with the help of her parents and her steely resolve, Marinette got to work on carrying the “package” up to her room in the attic.

It took a while, as one would expect. They had to stop several times for Marinette to rearrange her room simply so she wouldn’t be completely swimming in fabric by the time they got everything up there. They also had to make sure she could reach her trapdoor to get out of her room, her stairs to get to her bed, and her desk to work with the fabrics in general. This resulted in her creating a sort of obstacle course with the few solid things in her room that she could stand on without the fear of breaking something.

“I can’t even believe it, Tikki.” She said to her kwami once her parents went back down to the bakery. “Look at all of this! How am I even going to use it all? This is crazy!”

Despite her words of disbelief, she had the widest grin on her face, so wide that it was starting to hurt. Claude had told her that once she was done with his suit, she could keep any of the leftover supplies, since he supposedly had no use for it. She assumed it was his own little way of paying for the outfit, even though she’d told him that she would make it for free.

Tikki zipped around the room, giggling as she inspected the different types of fabric. “You could make him ten different suits with all of this!”

Marinette laughed. “Tikki, I could probably make him thirty five different suits and still have some leftover.”

She walked over to the piles of fabric in front of her and plucked up the first one that caught her eye. It was a deep blue silk that sheened under her bedroom lights, and she smiled at the mesmerizing display. Marinette had used silk before, but nothing like this. This was the type of silk that she imagined royalty to have, something smooth and soft and slick as butter. It was incredible, and she couldn’t wait to start working with it.

Marinette picked out a few more fabrics, the finest of the bunch, and brought them over to her desk to compare the colors and theorize how they might look together. If Claude was going to give her the best of the best, she was certainly going to return the favor by giving him the most regal and enchanting suit she could muster. Not to mention, this was an amazing, probably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Fabric of this quality was something she could never get on her own without saving months and months of allowance, and that was only to buy one roll. The fact that she had piles upon piles of this fabric at her disposal now was a miracle in and of itself. She couldn’t waste a piece of it.

She rolled the blue silk out across her desk to begin measuring, but just as she pulled out her sketchbook for extra notes and other things, her phone buzzed next to her, informing her that she’d received a text.

DancingQueen: Hey guys! Mom said that February eighth would work well for the sleepover if you’re all free! I think it’d be a great way to celebrate winter break.

A soft, delighted gasp passed her lips after reading Allegra’s text on the group chat. With the whole akuma battle and receiving Claude’s fabrics, she’d completely forgotten about the sleepover that they talked about earlier.

She quickly switched the calendar app to check her schedule, and her smile widened at the sight of an empty time slot. She appeared to be free that day.

Marinette found herself beginning to wiggle with joy on her rolling chair as she switched back to the messaging app. This was going to be her first sleepover with her new friends! It would also be the first time going to one of their houses! What was Allegra’s house going to look like? Would it be a mansion like Gabriel Agreste’s? She hoped it didn’t have high walls.

Another text drew her thoughts back to her phone, where a message from Claude had just appeared.

TheBetterShakespeare: works for me! What time are we gonna come over?

DancingQueen: I was thinking right after school like usual

TrebleChild: Sounds good to me :)

Marinette perked up when Allan joined the conversation. That meant most of them were going to be there! All they needed now was Felix.

She began typing.

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: February eighth works great for me too! I’ll probably stop by the house for my clothes and stuff first though lol

DancingQueen: Of course! I can send a car by to pick you up if you want?

TheBetterShakespeare: Woohoo! Mari’s coming! All we need now is Felix

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: Oh, you don’t have to! I don’t mind walking

DancingQueen: Are you sure? The walking distance is pretty far, and I totally don’t mind sending a car! (no pressure though. If you wanna walk that’s also fine!)

Marinette pulled her lip between her teeth in thought. Whatever the walking distance, she could probably just swing over as Ladybug within a few minutes. That way, she didn’t have to bother Allegra. If she got there too fast as Marinette, though, they might be suspicious.. Well, not suspicious, but curious because getting there faster than her legs could possibly carry her would be odd.

Ugh, just take the car. She told herself. It’ll be easier than carrying your luggage around while swinging through the air anyway.

TrebleChild: You think Felix is going to respond on here?

Marinette glanced down at Allan’s text and frowned. That was a good question.

After the akuma, Felix seemed to shut down. He hardly uttered a word to anyone, even after they were sent home early from school. She supposed he tended to be quiet in the first place, but it just felt different. It was as though he were in some trance, lost in the distant corners of his mind. He wouldn’t even talk to her all that much. Not that she was someone special to him or anything. They just.. They normally exchanged more comments to each other than they did on the way out of the school. Either way, she’d be surprised if he actually texted them back that night.

TheBetterShakespeare: Oh he’s going to have to respond when I’m done

Claude’s reply caused Marinette to suck in a breath and cringe. Oh, what was he going to do to poor Felix now?

Allan and Allegra appeared to have the same thought, as they quickly texted back.

DancingQueen: Oh dear

Marshmallow Man: Uh oh

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: Claude, maybe you shouldn’t bother Felix. He already doesn’t like the group

TheBetterShakespeare: LET’S

TheBetterShakespeare: FLUSH

TheBetterShakespeare: HIM

TheBetterShakespeare: OUT

DancingQueen: Claude, please-

TheBetterShakespeare: I’M

TheBetterShakespeare: NOT

TheBetterShakespeare: STOPPING

Marshmallow Man: Dude

TheBetterShakespeare: UNTIL

TheBetterShakespeare: FELIX

TheBetterShakespeare: DECIDES

TheBetterShakespeare: TO

TheBetterShakespeare: SHOW

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: What do you want?!

TheBetterShakespeare: HIMSELF

TheBetterShakespeare: Oh hey Felix!

Although she felt extremely bad for the blond, Marinette had to purse her lips to avoid laughing. She could practically hear the growl in his voice, and the image of Felix’s signature glare flashed through her mind. He had to be so annoyed right now.

TrebleChild: I’m surprised you didn’t just delete the app again

Rolling-Eye-Emoji:You know, that’s a marvelous idea.

The BetterShakespeare: NOOOOO ALLAN SHUT UP

DancingQueen: lol we were wondering if you were free February eighth, Felix.

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: Free for what?

TheBetterShakespeare: Can’t you just tell us if ur free or not?

TrebleChild: for the sleepover at Allegra’s house

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: We’re still doing that?

TheBetterShakespeare: Absolutely!

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: If you’re up for it!

TheBetterShakespeare: Mari that statement was way too nice for Felix

TheBetterShakespeare: You gotta drag him kicking and screaming or he’ll never do anything!

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: Why don’t you take a guess as to why?

TheBetterShakespeare: because you don’t know how to have fun and it’s our job to teach you

TrebleChild: Claude, you’re never going to get him to the sleepover that way

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: Claude, you couldn’t teach a cat how to climb a tree, and I know how to have fun just fine.

Marinette snorted towards Felix’s reply. She often wondered how he managed to perfect his sarcasm and cutting remarks to a fault. Did he read a book on it somehow or was it just practice?

TheBetterShakespeare: RUDE

DancingQueen: lol Felix, are you free on the eighth or not?

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: ..I’d have to check my schedule.

TheBetterShakespeare: Don’t laugh at him Allegra!

DancingQueen: Hey, if it’s funny it’s funny lol

DancingQueen: Do that please, Felix

TheBetterShakespeare: Betrayal!! I can’t believe I was naive enough to trust you!

DancingQueen: Oh whatever. It’s not like you haven’t laugh at me before

Marinette chuckled as she continued to set up the silk fabric. She almost worried about using her sewing machine for it in case it ripped, but hand sewing it wasn’t an option either. That would take way too long, and she wanted to finish this for Claude as soon as possible. (without cutting corners of course)

“Oh!” She gasped, straightening in her chair. She hadn’t told Claude about the fabrics arriving yet! He’d probably want to know that.

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: Hey Claude, I almost forgot to tell you but your fabric arrived today!

TheBetterShakespeare: Really?!

Marinette smiled and stood up from her rolling chair to take a picture of the room. She then sent the picture to the group with an added message:

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: I could barely fit it all in my room!

The responses were immediate.

TrebleChild: WOAH

DancingQueen: CLAUDE

TrebleChild: you sent that much?!

TheBetterShakespeare: …

TheBetterShakespeare: I may have gotten carry away

Marinette giggled and shook her head.

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: PLEASE feel free to get carried away anytime you like, I’ve literally never been happier

DancingQueen: lol

TrebleChild: lol

TheBetterShakespeare: Will do! 😉

Marinette smiled and set her phone down again, before rolling her chair over to the other fabrics to pick another one out. Her phone buzzed as she rolled back, notifying her of the new additions to the group chat.

Rolling-Eye-Emoji: Mother said that the eighth of February would work fine.

Marinette let out a squeal. They were all going! This was going to be the best sleepover ever!

TheBetterShakespeare: Aw yisss group sleepover!!

TrebleChild : awesome, so we’re meeting right after school?

DancingQueen: Yep! Except for Mari who needs to go get her clothes. Did you want me to send you a car Mari?

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: If you don’t mind :)

DancingQueen: Nope! I’ll make sure to tell you when it’s on its way.

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: Thanks 😁

DancingQueen: Of course! See you guys at school tomorrow!

TheBetterShakespeare: See you Al!

TrebleChild: Bye A

Our-Cinnamon-Roll: See you tomorrow!

Marinette set her phone down and let out another squeal of excitement as she kicked her legs back and forth.

Her first group sleepover with everyone!

How do you make time go faster?

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester

#felinette #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids

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aces-drew · 3 years

Text

we fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds (post 2x12 nace fic)

author : acesdrxw (find me on ao3 here)

fandom : nancy x ace (nace) from cw's nancy drew

word count : 1027 words

tags : angst hehe it's all just gut-wrenching angst lmao (but cathartic bc confrontation)

warnings : none

premise : nancy confronts ace after picking up on how off he'd been with her since his almost death at the paper-mill

Ace wasn’t ready to go home yet.

Watching his dad lose a part of his heart to regret after he’d met Grant, almost dying, gaining and losing a brother all in a 16-hour window had left a heavy weight on him, constricting his ribcage and tying knots onto his spine. The dread he felt at having to process all of it for himself and then having to talk to his father about it, having to come to terms that he’d mostly never get to see Grant again – his big brother, his only brother – had heavily worn him down in the brief time he’d had to hold onto all of it.

He took a deep breath, trying to quell inevitable tears as he sat on the bench in the Claw’s storeroom. He didn’t even realise Nancy had walked in until she spoke up behind him.

‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’

He took a second and composed himself before he turned to face her. She looked uncharacteristically apprehensive, and he didn’t necessarily blame her. Something about the two of them had shifted and it was unfailingly and uncomfortably evident.

‘Hurt me? Nancy people could die because of me, they’re the ones who could get hurt.’

It was difficult for Ace to keep an even tone, so he stood up to steady himself a little more. ‘Do we even know for sure that he didn’t send out the list of names to anyone? Was it really the best decision to even have taken that chance? And God Nancy, how did you even know Celia would do what you asked her? I just-’

Ace stopped himself, unwilling to say anything he would regret.

‘It wasn’t a favour, it was a deal.’ She replied.

‘What?’

She took her turn to ready herself with a shaky breath, worrying Ace more than anything. ‘Celia asked that I change my statement against Everett in court in return for catching Daniel West and keeping you safe.’ She said, looking away from him. ‘I agreed to the terms.’

His temples buzzed with adrenaline as he digested the words. He couldn’t really process what he was hearing as his mind raced a mile a minute, ‘What the actual hell Nancy? What were you thinkin-’

‘I couldn’t gamble your safety.’ Nancy interrupted, looking away again; finality etched in her tone. That was enough to effectively set him over the edge.

‘And yet you gambled your integrity?’ Ace felt sick; he couldn’t help but yell. He was now not only responsible for the possible murders of multiple people, but he was also the reason that Nancy had given up everything she’d believed in and worked for, the reason that a known murderer would walk free. ‘This isn’t who you are Nancy, this town trusts you to do the right thing, your dad trusted that you would do the right thing, you’re better than this!’

Nancy recovered just as fast as she’d flinched at his words. ‘Really? Am I? Because last time I checked, all of you were very comfortable with telling me how much of a Hudson I am, so guess what? I am a Hudson; I did what I had to.’ Nancy bit back. Ace couldn’t miss the sincerity that was absent in her tone.

He was so tired. ‘This wasn’t the right call Nancy, you fucked up… I wasn’t worth it.’ Ace tried to remove himself from seeing the way a part of her broke at how he didn’t fight for the decision she’d made to save his life, how he didn’t try to understand what that had cost her, how she was willing to do it anyway. But he could see that she saw him too, that she was also processing his side of things. Even if, just like him, she wasn’t willing to come to terms with what it implied for the two of them.

They studied each other until the silence got too heavy.

‘But it was my call to make. I couldn’t lose you.’ She gave up, looking right at him with tears threatening to fall. She was still scanning his face for some semblance of understanding, for some approval. When it didn’t come, she pulled her last straw, ‘Tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same for me.’

If it were anybody else, Ace would’ve become the pacifist right then. He would’ve put up the front he always did and manage all his feelings onto the backburner, letting everything go for the sake of preserving peace, convincing himself that he’d process it all himself and get over it. He would’ve forgiven it and swallowed the hurt and exhaustion he was feeling. He would’ve managed the anger he felt at her for asking him for an answer that would even mildly justify the clearly wrong decision she’d made – the decision to choose him. He would’ve looked away from her crystal blue eyes and arrested his case.

But with Nancy, against all his better rational judgment, he didn’t feel the need to reserve himself like he always did, he wanted to feel everything he was feeling in full force and overwhelm her with it too. Despite everything, it felt important to be honest with her, to liberate himself from holding back in the only way he could given their current circumstances – he wanted to be angry with her because he was angry with her.

Ace had decided on that much; tonight, he wasn’t going to give either of them the comfort of coming to terms with what she’d done because of him, of unpacking why she’d done it when there was so much – too much, to lose. He’d settled on it, ending the conversation.

‘Amanda is waiting for me. I’m heading out.’ Ace didn’t know why, but he knew that mentioning her was a cheap shot.

And that’s what he did. Before he saw Nancy’s tears, tears he knew would break him into a million more pieces than he’d already been broken into today, tears that would force him to deal with more than he could handle with everything he felt for and about her, he made his way out of the Bayside Claw.

#ace x nancy #nancy drew #cw nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ace [hardy]#ace nancy drew #nancy x ace #nace #nace fanfiction #nace drabble #nace hc #nancy drew fanfiction #user:alexjatp #cwnd #cwnd drabble

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Be Mine (05)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury

Notes: Here is the so awaited chapter nº5! It’s pretty much just Niragi’s funeral, but I think you’re gonna enjoy it either way :) I’m kidding lol, there’s no funeral. Also if ya'll want some music recs, I had Kai's first mini-album on repeat as I was writing this chapter. Is just so damn good. Enjoy <3

AO3 Link Masterlist

“He’s dead,” Chishiya says like he’s announcing the weather. It’s so cold and impersonal that you feel yourself getting angry at him. It doesn’t last more than a second though; his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He can’t be dead; you would feel it. You don’t know how or why, but you would know. Your legs go weak again under you, but this time you lean against a stone pillar. That’s where you absently notice you’re on the front steps of a big red house.

“N- no,” you gulp, trying to control the tears that threaten to fall. No, he can’t be dead. “You’re lying…” you whisper that last part.

He just looks at you for a moment, without saying a word, before walking to an information board you haven’t noticed before. A card is stuck to the board by a pin. The Ten of Spades. He takes it and approaches you before putting the card in your hoodie’s pocket. Then he speaks.

“Why would I be lying, Y/N?” his tone is so condescending. Anger rises inside you again. “And why do you care so much?”

“Why do I care?...” you repeat his question to yourself. Why do you care? You don’t know. You barely know Niragi. But he saved you and was weirdly sweet to you on your first night together and he...you...you just care. You’re like eighty-five percent sure that this is your wolf talking, but you don’t care either way, “I’m going to find him,” you say as you practically drag yourself down the stone steps, cursing your injured foot.

“No, you’re not. Stop,” the order makes you stop on instinct, and your mind fogs for a moment. Your eyes go wide as you realize what he’s trying to do.

“Fuck you,” you hiss in his direction, “Go manipulate someone else.” You turn and continue limping down the path. You hear a growl, and he’s suddenly in front of you, now back in his wolf form. His teeth are bare, but you ignore him and walk right past him. “If you’re not going to help, just go away,” you say over your shoulder. “I will find him and bring him back by myself.”

You can’t hear him behind you anymore, but you can smell him close by. You ignore his scent to focus on Niragi’s, trying to find your way back to where you last saw him. You groan in pain at your ankle; it hurts more at every step. The blood seeping through your makeshift bandage doesn't make walking any easier.

You finally catch his scent and try walking faster. Part of you is thankful for the park lights that are now on, almost giving the impression of daylight; it makes the path so much easier to walk through. The con is that you can also undoubtedly see the bodies and blood. You see them everywhere in the open field you were just moments ago; animal and human. It's a bloodbath. You ignore the blood, and the ripped limbs, and the open wounds.

“Niragi!” you can’t help but scream when you see him.

He’s face down on the ground, still in his human form, like he had tried to crawl before passing out. You ignore the possibility that he might be dead. You finally get to him, falling on your knees to assess his condition. He’s covered head to toe in blood, and you hesitate to touch him. You’re afraid to hurt him more if you try to move him.

“Niragi?” you call in a trembling voice, “Niragi, can you hear me?”

No answer.

“I told you he was dead,” Chishiya says, right behind you. You ignore him and finally touch Niragi’s skin. He’s warm to the touch; way too warm to be considered dead. A grunt coming from him startles you.

“Oh my God! ” you exclaim, maybe a little too loudly, “Niragi, can you hear me? Can you move?”

“That’s just gas leaving the body,” Chishiya again, “C’mon, let’s go.” You roll your eyes and keep ignoring him, focusing on what matters.

Niragi’s hand moves as he grunts again, this time louder, and you realize he’s trying to talk.

“What-”

“Stop saying I’m dead-” he turns his head to the side, and you can finally see his face as he mumbles. “You fucking dog-... I hope you get leishmaniasis-... and die.”

You can’t help the sudden laugh that leaves your lips before you can stop it; people dying don’t talk like that. He opens one eye at hearing you, and you see his brow furrow even with all the blood on his face.

“Me dying is funny to you?” he asks in a croaky voice.

You shake your head and quickly wipe the tears that had started to fall. “No, I- I’m just glad you’re alive.” You turn to face Chishiya, a stern expression on your face “Will you help me, or I will have to do it by myself?”

The man rolls his eyes and grunts, before turning back into a wolf without a word. You help Niragi onto Chishiya’s back, ignoring the wolf’s snarl and the man’s constant complaints. You think most of the bleeding has stopped, but you still fear the open wounds, especially the arrow that made one on his chest. Thankfully, it had hit far from the heart and lungs. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t cause for concern.

You finally got to the front gates without much difficulty; Chishiya had dropped Niragi only once, and you considered that a win. Your own injured leg shot pain through you every step, but Niragis' condition put that out of your mind. You noticed the bundle of clothes both of them had left on the ground before turning, so you limped to grab them before joining them by the car. You also get Niragi’s rifle as you pass by the entrance. You put it in the trunk before helping Niragi inside. Chishiya turns back and puts on his clothes before getting in the car without a word.

“My shirt?” Niragi asks as you’re about to close the car door.

“Oh- Oh right,” you forgot he was naked. You didn’t think you could possibly get him dressed in his state, but it’s obvious he wants to cover up. You pass him the shirt and stare in confusion as he puts it on instead of covering himself. “Niragi, you shouldn’t-”

“I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees my dick,” he says with a grunt as he tries to pass his injured arm through the armhole. You’re about to say something when it hits you; his back. Of course, he doesn’t want anyone to see it. You nod and take off your jacket, now in only your swimsuit top, and cover him with it. He looks at you but says nothing. Lucky for you, you’re able to cover your own back with a scarf before Chishiya notices.

You drive back to the Beach in silence. Chishiya drives as you sit next to him, absently biting the nail of your thumb. Finally seated, you addressed your own injury. The holes the trap made were deep and still bleeding. You can hardly move your ankle now the pain has set. You hear Niragi moan in pain in the backseat as the car runs over bumps that Chishiya purposefully ignores. Besides that and the occasional sigh, the air is filled with awkward silence. Now that the game and fear and adrenaline has passed, you know that is only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats again.

You let out a sigh of relief when you get into the Beache’s parking lot. Chishiya is out of the car and gone before you can even say a word to him. Well, it seems like his generosity has come to an end. You sigh and get out of the car, helping Niragi get out as best as you can. He tries to stand by himself, but his mangled foot quickly gives up on him. You both almost fall before three militants nearby see you and decide to help. He looks on the brink of passing out, and his skin burns like it’s on fire.

“Take me to my room,” he says to the men in a faint voice. You’re about to say something against it; he needs special medical care. He stops you like he knows what’s going through your mind. “I don’t-... I don’t need no nursing student-... putting his hands on me. Room.”

You limp behind them in silence, wondering if he will want you in his room. Probably not, but you’ll at least leave his gun there before passing out in your bedroom. You fear a fight, but you’re honestly too tired for that. You do feel guilty for sleeping with Chishiya, but Niragi is at fault here too. He left you alone and purposely ignored you for a damn week. Besides, it’s not like you can control any of it; not anymore. Whatever self-control you had over your wolf seemed to have evaporated the moment Niragi’s hands were on you that first time.

You stand by the door as the men lay him on the bed before he orders them to leave. You lean his gun against a corner and stand there for a moment, considering what to do next. It doesn’t take you long before you decide. You leave the room and walk around the hotel until you find what you need, returning to his room with arms full of medical supplies, a basin, and some clean rags. His eyes are on you as soon as you open the door, a surprised expression on his face. It’s quickly replaced by a scowl.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks. You ignore his tone and focus on organizing the stuff you brought on the bedside table.

“You say you don’t want a specialist looking after you, so you’ll have to settle for me,” you answer as you limp towards the bathroom to fill the basin with warm water. You can feel his eyes on your back as you wait for the bowl to fill. Going back to his side, you start cleaning his skin, starting with his face. You don’t even try cleaning and detangling the mess that is his hair. You keep your gaze on specific points of his face, avoiding his eyes. You’re actually surprised he hasn’t tried to stop you. You clean his face until the water is pink, the gash on his forehead now clearly visible. It has stopped bleeding, the fast Alpha healing clear in the way the wound has started to scab. You stand up to change the water, and again his eyes are following you as you walk to the bathroom.

“How’s your ankle?” you hear him faintly ask over the sound of running water.

“It’s going to heal,” you answer as you go back to his side. You move to unbutton his shirt, but his hand lightly grabs your wrist. Your eyes lock. His eyes have a strange shine to them, and you wonder if he has a fever. By his body temperature, you wouldn’t doubt it. “Can I open it?”

He stares at you for a moment before nodding. You resume unbuttoning his shirt, opening it to reveal his chest. You keep doing the methodical task of rubbing his skin clean, barely noticing when he falls asleep. There are several lacerations and bite marks all over his chest and sides, but those seem to be healing properly too.

You also notice, to little surprise, that he has several tattoos adorning his pale skin; a tangle of thorns rise from his hip to his ribs, a single black rose in the middle of the artwork; an open winged raven stares at you from his pectorals, the kanji for power in the eyes of the animal; a smaller tattoo of a howling wolf marks his hip. They’re beautiful, and you wonder what their exact meaning is. It’s a shame that they will be covered in scars when he’s finished healing. You wonder if he has more tattoos on his body.

An hour goes by before you finish cleaning and bandaging his front. His foot is by far the worst injury, and you wonder for a moment if he will be able to use it again at its full capacity. You haven’t tried to take off his shirt or turn him around; you know he probably wouldn’t want that. Your eyes are heavy, and you almost doze off several times. You cover him with a blanket and stand up to clean things up. Your now swollen ankle reminds you you have yet to care for it, so that’s what you do, after making sure that Niragi hasn’t stopped breathing in his sleep.

You crash beside him with a tired sigh, eyes closing as soon as your head hits the mattress.

You wake up hours later, startled by the sound of hushed voices right next to you. You stay still, hoping they won’t catch on the fact that you’re now wide awake.

“I know it was you,” Niragi’s voice, faint and rough, “You pushed me into that fucking trap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chishiya. “All I did was play the game.”

“So now what, you’re here to wish me a fast recovery or to finish the job?”

“Just came to check on her.” You can feel both of their gazes on you. You know they know that you’re awake, but neither of them says anything about it. You hear Niragi exclaim a rushed ‘hey’ and some rustling. “And to get this,” Chishiya adds. You know he’s talking about the card, still in your jacket pocket.

“She’s never going to be yours,” Niragi says in such a low tone you can barely hear him. You can feel the growl in his chest vibrating the mattress. “So fuck off my room.”

“Hmm, guess we’ll see about that,” Chishiya says in his usual unbothered tone. You hear him as he walks away and gently closes the door behind him. Niragi shifts next to you with a grunt of pain. You can feel the heat radiating from him in waves.

You stay still for a few more moments, trying to understand their conversation. Had Chishiya really tried to kill Niragi? You wouldn’t doubt it, but still, the idea scared you; he had been so close to succeeding.

You realize something. These are dangerous men; of that, you have no doubt. You’re sure that if it wasn’t for you being an Omega, they wouldn’t think twice about hurting you badly or even kill you. In what mess did you get yourself into? Why these two, of all the Alphas in the world?

“Why did you fuck him?” Niragi’s question breaks you out of your thoughts. You say nothing for a beat or two, before shrugging.

“For the same reason I fucked you, I guess,” you say with a sigh, “I couldn’t control my wolf from getting what she wanted,” he says nothing for several moments, so you decide to just say what else is on your mind. “He also was there when I needed. These guys were messing with me and he just...he was there. I- I did try talking to you several times but you just kept avoiding me so… when Chishiya appeared I… I didn’t even think twice, to be honest.”

“Would you bond with him?” he asks in a hesitant tone. This makes you turn to him. His eyes are focused on the ceiling, and you notice how heavy his breathing is.

“No,” you say without a second thought, “If I’m going to be bonded with someone, it’s not going to be with him,” it’s true. You really don’t want to be bonded with that man; not after how he acted with you. “Not if I have any say in it.” Which you fear you may not have. But you don’t want to put that into words.

Niragi takes a deep breath and nods, before closing his eyes again. His fists are closed by his side, and you know he’s trying to control his emotions, whatever they may be. He opens his eyes after some time and locks his eyes on you. They still have that weird shine to them.

“Would you bond with me?” he asks before you can ask how he’s feeling.

“I- I don’t know,” you really don’t. You don’t know anything about him, and you have the feeling that you wouldn’t like him even if you knew him better. “We don’t know each other. The last thing I want is to be bonded to someone I’m incapable of loving. I know everyone thinks I must be insane for refusing to accept my own biology but I- I would rather die than make my future children go through the same shit I went through.”

Niragi just hums in response, processing your words.

“Love is a myth.” he finally says, “The faster you accept your nature and that little fact, the easier life will be for you.” He moves to sit up, before making a sound of pain and falling back down on the mattress, “Fuck-”

“Don’t move!” you order, afraid he will just hurt himself further, “What do you need?”

“I’ll be damned if I need your help to take a piss,” he tries to sit up again, grunting as he successfully rests his back against the wall, “I’m not a fucking invalid.” You ignore his words and stand up to support him as he slowly makes his way to the bathroom.

You’re waiting on the other side of the door when you hear a sudden ‘thud’ from inside. You open the door to see Niragi on the floor, curses streaming from his lips as he tries to stand up. You run to his side, but his hand swats at you.

“I can stand up by myself, goddammit,” he mumbles to you. He suddenly drops against you with a groan. You start to panic; his skin is damp and hot as a furnace.

“Niragi, you have a fever,” you try to think of what to do, and your eyes fall on the jacuzzi bathtub in a corner of the large bathroom. “C’mon, I’m going to give you a cold bath.”

“No- Don’t you try to bathe me...damn woman,” he says, still trying to stand up by himself. You sigh and half-drag him half-support him to the bathtub. You lean him against the wall as you turn on the faucets, trying to get the perfect water temperature. You move to take off the bandages you had put on him just hours before, leaving only the one on his foot. He’s still naked except for his black and white shirt, just like the one he had given to you. You try to take it off of him, but he vehemently shakes his head no.

“Don’t- don’t you fucking try to take this off me,” he manages to say, eyes closed as he takes labored breaths. You don’t even think twice as you take the scarf off your shoulders and pull down your swimsuit, turning so your naked back is in full view to him.

“My father did this to me when I was eleven years old,” you talk fast, and your voice trembles, but you still force yourself to say the words. “He was drunk all the time, and I did something that made him mad, and he snapped.” you pull your swimsuit back up and turn around to face him. “I’m not asking to see your back or for you to tell me how you got them, I just want to put you in that goddamn bath! I couldn’t care less about your scars!” you’re not being completely honest, but your words apparently work. Niragi’s scowl lightens a bit, and he gives you a small consenting nod. You brush off the knot in your throat, focusing on getting him undressed of that crusty bloody shirt before helping him get in the tub.

He gasps as his trembling body hits the water, teeth chattering as he grips the side of the tub which so much force that his knuckles turn white. You take that time to focus on cleaning the rest of his body, including his matted hair, the water immediately turning pink. He visibly flinches when the rag touches his back, before leaning forward to give you better access.

You can’t help but look; of course you can’t. While your scars are just a slash of claws that go from shoulder to hip, his are...messy. They cover his whole back from shoulder to tailbone, some fine and silver, others wide and red. You have a sudden urge to cry, but hold it in; you know he wouldn’t react well to pity. Not that you pity him; not exactly. It’s more like it triggers your memories of the happening, and you remember how much it had hurt; how much that had been a turning point in your life. How much it still hurts, even though they’re no longer open wounds. You fear it’s the same for him.

You can’t resist passing a light finger over one of the deeper scars. You hear him gasp before fully accepting your touch. The sensation of your skin against his never loses that spark of electricity, doesn’t matter how many times you touch him.

“You smell like him,” he snaps. You can’t place his tone, but his sudden reaction makes you freeze and widen your eyes. His hand grabs your wrist, and he pulls you slightly against him. You have to brace yourself not to fall inside the large tub. “Get in here,” he orders. Your surprised expression is replaced by a raised brow; he sure sounds good enough to order you around now.

“I’m not getting in there,” you say as you try to release yourself from his grip.

“Oh yes you are, you fucking stink,” he retorts, pulling you even closer.

“How dare- “

You’re falling in the cold water bath before you can finish your sentence. He grunts in pain as you fall on top of him, and you don’t know if you should worry or be happy about it. His hands go to your hips as you try to get out, pressing you against him.

“You idiot, you’re going to open your wounds!” you decide to worry. You put your hands on his shoulders for support, and you notice you’re now nose to nose.

“I don’t care,” Niragi says, eyes locked on yours. “I just can’t stand you smelling like him anymore.” he tugs at your shorts, “Take this off.”

“Niragi, no,” you say as you try once again to get out of his grasp, “You’re sick and this water is dirty from your blood. I’m not bathing in here”

“I want you to smell like me,” he says like he hasn’t heard you. “Take it off or I’ll take them off for you.”

“Niragi-”

“I’m not repeating myself,”

You comply after a moment of consideration, sighing as you struggle to take off your wet shorts. His body is still hot under you, and that’s what’s stopping you from shivering in the cold water. There’s an uncomfortable moment where you just stay there, straddling him and so close to his face that you can see the specks of gold in his dark eyes.

Then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back with as much ferocity. His hands rise from your hips to the straps of your swimsuit, and you let him pull them down to reveal your breasts. His mouth is on them in seconds, pierced tongue playing with one of your nipples as a hand gropes the other. Your arms go around him, pulling him closer as you moan in his ear. It feels so good. You can feel the growing wetness in your cunt as he keeps sucking on you, his hardening member pressing against your center.

You desperately want him. You don’t even try to fight it. You just want him in you as fast as you can. His mouth never leaves your breasts, but his hand moves down, pushing your swimsuit to the side. He’s inside you with a swift push, and you almost scream at the stretching sensation; he makes you feel so unbelievably full. You start moving almost immediately, chasing that indescribable sensation of pleasure that he provides.

Your joined moans echo in the large bathroom, mixing with the sound of skin splashing on water. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot at every thrust, the angle only allowing him to fuck you even deeper. Neither of you speaks, involved in each other’s embrace, lips kissing and sucking every inch of skin you can reach on each other.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this; you’re both injured, exhausted, and you had fucked a different guy just the day before. But none of that matters. You’ve been wanting this since the first time he came in you.

“You feel so good inside me,” you can’t help but moan as you ride him. You can feel your orgasm growing, your pussy clenching around him every time you impale yourself on his shaft. He just kisses you harder in response, tongue pressing against yours as you moan into his mouth.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, the pleasurable sensation running over you from head to toe. You lean against him, your limbs feeling like jelly. He’s coming inside you not long after, teeth grazing the skin of your neck, so close to your marking spot that you think you can come just from that. You whine in satisfaction at the warm sensation his cum leaves inside you.

Neither of you moves for several minutes, gathering your breath while still connected and in each other’s arms. You don’t want to move; it feels too good. It feels right. You’re also extremely tired, and your eyes soon close, lulled by the fast beating of his heart under your palm. You doze off for a moment, before the feeling of his fingers on your back jerks you awake. You tense for a moment before relaxing to his feathery touch; his fingers are so soft.

“Now you smell like me,” he says in a gruff voice. There’s undoubted satisfaction in his tone.

You smile, snuggling even more against him.

Maybe Niragi isn’t such a bad choice.

Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #niragi fic #niragi x reader #chishiya shuntaro #also on ao3

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yoonsshadow · 4 years

Text

ETERNAL - i

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; murder, death, violence, blood, guns, burnt bodies, nudity [nonsexual], nightmares, drugs? [sleeping pills], a bunch of boys being in love

➳ word count ; 4.8k

➳ note ; I watched The Old Guard on Netflix [a serious recommend if you haven’t already seen it] and got hit with major inspiration. Nothing better than found-family and immortal soulmates. I put of a lot of time, effort and love into this, so please treat it with delicate hands. And please, please, give me feedback if you like it. Thank you, and enjoy :)

They have done this before, enough times—too many times—to be familiar with the routine.

The nightmares, all too vivid and yet frustratingly vague, of blood and pain and death. Glimpses of a face they have never seen, memories that do not belong to them. The lingering thoughts of why another, why now, why at all?

They have done this many times, and yet it never gets easier, never makes sense.

⎯⎯⎯

When they submit to the clutches of slumber, it is beneath the glowing moonlight that shines through the broken ceiling of an abandoned church. Overgrown with vines that hold the crumbling walls together and hidden behind bushes and weeds and shadows, this building will be safe, for them. For now. It may not provide much warmth, or much shelter, but it gives them a sense of anonymity that they so desperately depend on. Right now, it hides them from the world. They are nothing but each other’s, so long as they are here.

Usually, sleep brings peace. Long ago did they learn how to banish demons from their dreams, memories of pasts both true and terrible, and so through sleep they find temporary solace from the demands of their long lives. They hold each other in their warm arms, forget about their worries if only for a brief moment. They are but seven men, seven soulmates, seven loves, existing together without burden.

Until tonight.

It is familiar, the weight that descends upon their chests, pushes against their rib cages. An invisible force both squeezing them and pulling them apart, flooding them with vague images, sounds, feelings. In sleep, they hold each other tighter, safer, but they cannot escape the myriad of memories and thoughts that fill their minds.

A pair of eyes, so brown that they are pure, so dark that they are nearly black, blink at them as sweat begins to shine upon their skin. These eyes are young, but they hold wisdom, maturity, that can only come with death. Witnessing it, causing it, experiencing it. These eyes are filled with desperation in this moment, but also a stubborn determination; they know what is coming, and yet they will continue to fight until their dying breath, as they vowed⎯⎯

⎯⎯a uniform, black, stained with dirt and blood, without any identifying marks. No dog-tags, but a tan line around a soft neck where they would normally hang. Trained muscles behind firm fabric, knowledgeable fingers clutching a military assault rifle. Steel-toed boots, scuffs through the polish, dirt in the seams and drops of red in the laces⎯⎯

⎯⎯heart beating through chest, adrenaline spiking, but something’s wrong, this isn’t supposed to happen, how did they know we were coming? Need to get out, need to get to cover, need to save⎯⎯

⎯⎯the enemies found them, caught them, have them, bound and bloodied in a dark cave or dungeon, they can’t tell. Chains rattle against stone where bodies shift for comfort, but no comfort can be found for bleeding wounds, broken bones, bruised skin. Eyes connect, know they’re saying goodbye, can’t speak but wish they could say something, apologise, curse, plead, pray. By the time footsteps stomp their way in, handgun cocked and aimed at their foreheads, they have already accepted that⎯⎯

Gasps echo in the silence as seven bodies jerk awake, trembling and sweating and aching with pains that another is experiencing. Their minds are still clouded, submerged within their dreams, but they know this routine. They know what they have just seen.

Hands scramble beneath their makeshift bedding as they reach for their journals, their pens, and begin to scribble whatever details they can remember ⎯ eyes, blood, pain, death. They’ve all clung to different images, and they desperately remember everything they can before it washes away with their wakeful clarity.

“I saw, um, eyes,” chokes the youngest, his pencil already sketching the eyelashes with careful precision. “Brown, dark. Looked like a girl’s.”

“She had to be military,” says another. “Maybe special forces? No insignia on the uniform and dog-tags were taken off. Black-ops?”

“I saw a glimpse of a scar on her hand. Might help to identify her.”

“There were others, too; a team. I have a feeling she was the leader.”

“It was a rescue operation, but I don’t think they succeeded. The enemies saw them coming. She was confused as to how.”

“Did you see the gun she was shot with? That’s military grade. It was either supplied by somebody on the force, or they were the force.”

“God, I have a headache.” Seokjin rubs his temples, a pain lingering behind his eyes but never ceding. “Never thought after three-hundred years that we’d get another one.”

Arms curl around him, a sigh breathed into his neck. “Me too, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles closer, finds comfort in the warmth of his lover’s broad shoulders. “I feel sorry for her. Now she’s going to have to deal with this too.”

“Hey, what did I say about pessimism?” Namjoon’s pointed look is directed towards the youngest, but the words are for everybody to hear. A reminder. “Our lives may be long, and hard, and difficult to deal with at times. But we have the opportunity to help people, to affect change, and, most importantly,” his eyes soften, “to have each other.”

“Wah, hyung’s going soft on us,” Taehyung grins, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Behind him, Jimin clings around his torso like a koala. “Yeah, those are big words for somebody who so often tells us how insufferable we are,” he agrees.

Sitting up, Yoongi joins the conversation with a voice still deep with sleep. “That’s because you are insufferable. But that doesn’t mean that hyungs love you any less. Eternal life would be extremely dull if we didn’t have you annoying us constantly.”

Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other, eyes glittering with something devious, and something close to love. “You all just bore witness to that,” Jimin says, pointing at Yoongi. “You all heard him say that, so you can’t yell at us for being annoying ever again!”

“Free pass!” Taehyung agrees.

Hoseok, still lounging his head in Yoongi’s lap, rolls his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung said it, but none of us did, so we can, and will, still yell at you.”

The two pout, but question it no further. They could spend centuries arguing over petty things⎯have, regrettably⎯but they’d much rather get along. For now, forever.

“Hyungs,” a small voice whispers into the silent air, drawing attention to where the maknae still hugs into Seokjin’s back. He’s pouting, and they want to coo at him, but his next words break them out of their reverie of adoration. “What about the girl?”

Your ears are ringing when you finally wake, images of your nightmares still clinging to your mind, so vivid, so real. They were filled with pain, and fear, and the bloodied faces of your soldiers as they were shot one after the other. You remember screaming for them, pleading, hoping against hope that they’d listen. But, instead, you had watched them die.

You hope that you didn’t scream aloud, didn’t wake your team. They deserve the rest, even if you couldn’t have it.

Muscles stiff and aching from a restless slumber, you shift in your cot, move to adjust the blanket. But your cot is harder than you’d like, your blanket out of reach. In fact, you can’t move your arms at all.

When your heavy eyelids finally open, you realise why your dreams had felt so real.

The stench of blood and death is so thick in the air that you can taste it, that bitter tang against your tongue bringing bile up to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t just sore, it’s screaming; it’s as though you can feel your muscles re-knitting together after being torn apart. And maybe it’s panic that crushes against your lungs, constricting your airways, or maybe it’s grief.

Because as soon as your eyes land on the dead bodies of your teammates, you can’t breathe.

Your throat is so sore from screaming and crying that the sounds escaping it are torn and scratchy, but you can’t hold them in. Not when you see your friend’s brain splattered over the wall behind her; not when you see your second-in-command holding her hands together, mid-prayer when the shot was fired.

You sob, and yell, and cry out until your throat is raw, and then when you have no voice left, you continue. You may not be dead yet⎯and for what reason, you don’t want to know⎯but you don’t think that you’ll ever truly live after this. How does one move on from their friends, their family, being slaughtered before their very eyes? How does one process the fact that they were left behind?

Through the crushing weight on your chest and the searing pain in your throat, you hear footsteps approaching. The heavy boots do nothing to hide their owner’s steps, impatient and strong, but you can’t find it within yourself to be afraid. The worst thing they can do is torture you some more, maybe even kill you, but you’d welcome death at this stage; you’d welcome reprieve from the sorrow that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a man, unsurprisingly, who walks through the mouth of the dark cave, ugly face covered by a mask pulled up to his eyes. He looks at you, something in his half-hidden expression that you don’t have the energy to place, and then says something in a language that you cannot understand.

Heaving a breath and swallowing blood, you meet his sharp eyes. “I don’t understand you.” Your words scratch their way out, hardly discernible, so you try again. “I won’t tell you anything, so just kill me and get it over with.”

This time he shouts, still angry but this time not at you, though he never tears his gaze off your crumpled figure. Like if he blinks, you may disappear.

Once again, hurried and heavy footsteps make their way into the room, a pair of men joining their comrade. These ones are holding guns. You can’t find it within yourself to flinch.

More foreign words are thrown at you, some that seem like questions, but your mind is too rattled, head too sore, to even try to comprehend what they might want from you. Your shoulders ache from where your arms are secured behind you, and your legs ache from hours⎯maybe days?⎯of disuse. So you sigh, level what you hope is a glare towards the two newcomers, and repeat, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Looks exchanged between them, hesitation, and then, “You should be dead. Why are you not dead?”

In a moment of weighted silence, you try to determine if they’re serious. Because surely they aren’t asking you how you are alive while being held captive by them. But they don’t elaborate, so you’re left with an even greater migraine than before. “Are you fucking serious?”

The expletive makes them simultaneously point their rifles at you, and this time, you do stiffen. You may be feeling slightly suicidal right now, but you also have reflexes.

“I don’t know why I’m alive.” The admission is spat from between your teeth, reluctant and bitter. “Why don’t you ask whoever it was that killed the rest of my team?”

“I killed your team,” one of them says. The first one. Without a gun, obviously having thought there would be no threat in entering this dungeon. “I killed you, too, shot you in the head myself. So tell me again. Why are you alive?”

“Maybe you’re a bad shot,” you reply. “How am I to fucking know why you let me live? Now do me a favour, will you? Either let me go or shoot me for real this time.”

You don’t have time to register the sound of the gunshot before the bullet goes through your forehead.

“Anything?”

A sigh is the only response that Namjoon receives.

“Alright,” he continues, “what do we know for sure about her?”

“Honestly, hyung?” Jimin looks up from the laptop he’s perched at. “I don’t think we even truly know if it’s a woman. We saw her⎯their⎯eyes, but not much else. Like, sure, we think it’s a woman, we’re pretty sure of it, but nothing’s certain. The visions were really vague this time around.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, never looking up from the screen of his own computer. “I’ve been searching the military databases, but it’s hard to pinpoint covert operations that don’t technically exist. We didn’t get a dog tag number, or an insignia, or even an idea of which country’s military she’s in. I hate to say it, but we might just need to wait until tonight. Get some more pieces of the puzzle.”

This is what Namjoon was afraid of, not that he was expecting anything else. His boys are good, but even they can’t work miracles.

“I feel sorry for her,” Jeongguk hums, cheek pressed into the couch cushion where he’s taken a rest from research. Not that he ever really started; that was always his hyungs’ strong points. “I mean, she’s all alone right now, probably really confused, really scared. I know I was before you all found me.”

That sentence strains their hearts, makes them pause. Jeongguk had been alone for nearly a decade before they had finally found him, lonely and of unsound mind, unaware of the curse he’d been unwillingly given. They’d spent years helping him heal, helping him accept, and now they can proudly say that he is stable and content. Happy, even, sometimes.

You, however. You are in the exact same place that he was. Maybe worse, they don’t know.

Taking slow steps towards the couch, Hoseok gently lifts Jeongguk’s legs to place them on his lap when he sits. He feels the strong calf muscles beneath his fingers as he strokes the uncovered skin, bare only for their eyes, until the young one has relaxed his worried muscles.

“I know it’s hard, Jeongguk-ie,” Hoseok says, voice just above a whisper, soft and yet sure. “I know that we all want to find her as soon as possible, but we can’t just yet. Hopefully the next dream will give us more, but until then, we just have to stay focused. Let’s not get lost in that mental spiral, okay?”

Jeongguk hums, not fully sated with the answer but understanding nonetheless. “M’kay, hyung.”

The comfortable silence in the room following their conversation doesn’t even stretch five minutes before a figure slams into the building, flourishing his arms and announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

“We’re back, bitches!”

Seokjin follows behind Taehyung, closing the church doors after the younger had slammed them open and looking exhausted. “Taehyung chatted with the cashier for half an hour before he even asked for help. We could have been back hours ago.”

“Hey.” Taehyung directs a look at the oldest. “Her outfit coordination was unlike anything I’ve seen this century. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s as old as Hoseok-ie hyung!”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Hoseok asks Seokjin, who is smiling despite himself.

“Definitely a compliment. I’ll admit, she reminded me of that one fashion mogul we knew in Paris. The one...Jimin, you know the one I’m talking about. Red hair, lazy eye?”

“It wasn’t a lazy eye, hyung,” Jimin corrects, “she was just keeping an eye out in all directions.”

“Yeah, anyway,” Seokjin says, “none of that matters. We got the stuff. Took a while, but we got it.”

Taehyung empties his plastic shopping bag onto a wiped-down old table, cardboard boxes falling onto the surface. “I’ve got to say, modern medicine is pretty ground-breaking. I wish we were smart enough to have invented it earlier.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Yoongi asks, sounding a lot less interested than he actually is. “I wouldn’t think that sleeping pills would affect us.”

At this, Namjoon bites his lip. “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’ve been doing some thinking. If the pills aren’t hurting us, our bodies shouldn’t heal too quickly; they should still have time to take effect. Just like how we can get drunk but not have liver issues, or smoke but not get cancer.”

“But smoking’s still gross,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“So,” Hoseok ponders aloud, “if we take the pills, it should prolong our sleep so that we can lengthen the dream? Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ve never been able to test it,” Namjoon shrugs. “The worst thing that could happen is our body processes it quicker than it works, and we have a normal night’s sleep with normal visions. It’s worth a shot.”

“I think a few of us should not take the pills,” Seokjin says. “That way, if the pills really do work, some of us can still wake up normally in case of an emergency.”

Namjoon nods his head in agreement. “Okay. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it tonight. Until then, let’s rest.”

The second time you wake up, you are significantly less disorientated. You know where you are, what has happened and, most importantly, that you should definitely be dead.

You’d seen the gun, heard the click, felt the bullet spilt through your skull. You know what a killing shot is, have dealt a few yourself, so you know that you should not be opening your eyes to an intense headache right now.

An acrid odour drifts through your dazed thoughts, a stench so strong, so unpleasant, that bile immediately rises and spills from your mouth. You don’t have much to vomit, so you spit mostly water and stomach acid onto the ground beneath you as you wretch from your aching throat.

No, not the ground. Something far worse.

When the tears from your eyes clear away and you look to the ground, you see what is digging into your skin, jabbing at your muscles; you aren’t sure why, or how, but you are lain across a pile of bones and scraps of cloth, sizzling flesh still warm to the touch and sticking to you in chunks. You are atop a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and soaked to the bone with the reeking smell of charred flesh.

Your stomach is empty, and so you can only scramble from the pile and retch.

For several minutes, all you can do is allow your body’s attempt to empty itself on the ground. Even more so than before, your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and questions and worries, most of which lead to the fact that you are lying naked in the middle of a desert, next to a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and somehow alive.

You are at least thankful that you are already lying on the ground when you faint.

There are seven pairs of eyes⎯brown, warm⎯that look at you, look at each other. Words remain unspoken, for the pupils reveal every thought, every emotion. I care for you deeply, they say, now and forever. The words are not meant for you, not yet, but they feel familiar. As if you have heard them in every past life⎯

⎯Surrounded by trees, a sight which would usually calm you but now only acts as a hindrance, you run through the familiar forest without grace. Bare feet bleed trails of red through the undergrowth, sore arms never dropping the heavy weapons that slow you down so. You should not be alone, never usually are, but now you are accompanied only by your panic and the wolves that chase you. These ones, however, do not howl or gnash their feral jaws; they calculate, the way only a human can⎯

⎯Metal hangs heavy around your lithe neck, skin raw and bleeding beneath its unrelenting grip. Fingers grab into your filthy hair, knotting into your bun. Worthless piece of filth, growls a man. You are not unfamiliar with his tone, nor his insults, though this is the first time you have felt a glob of saliva being spat onto your cheek. Can’t even follow the basic rules. Somebody really ought to make an example of you⎯

⎯This room is bright, brighter than the last, and yet somehow glooms darker than all. Shadows hang heavy in the corner where invasive eyes hide, but you can look only to the man who sits in front of you, posture relaxed despite the tensity that thickens the air. Go on, he taunts as you are shoved to your knees, the pain nothing compared to the fear that fills you at the sight of the executioner’s sword. Show us that smile of yours. Grant the world one more. Grant him, he nods towards another figure who you refuse to meet gazes with, one last dazzling grin. You do not, but you do whisper an apology under your breath, one that will never be heard⎯

⎯Gold silk hangs from your broad shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully down your tall body. Each detail stitched into the delicate robe sparkles in the candlelight, patterns that tell stories of love and power and beauty. Jeonha, somebody says to you, a face that is hidden from your view. I am sorry for this, Jeonha. Gold silk soon turns crimson when the knife plunges into your back. You are not even allowed the courtesy of looking into your killer’s eyes⎯

⎯You had always thought that you would live longer, survive the odds set against you, but you know now, as your mother tends to the gash carved into your chest, that this time, luck is not your benefactor. It is not so bad, she assures, though you know the look in her eyes, see the light in them dimmed with grief of a life not yet lost. You wish to tell her everything, anything, but the words bubble up in your throat and you struggle to spit them out. She knows, though, you can see that she knows, and her calming hand rests over your heart, which beats slower and slower with each moment. I love you, my sun, my son. Rest well. Her hand grows cold, or maybe that is you. For you no longer feel, no longer worry, only close your eyes and fall⎯

⎯Urgency pumps your blood faster, the sound echoing in your ears, as your weeping eyes search around you. Nothing, not the chaos around you nor the wound in your shoulder, can stop your wobbly legs from moving, not when you have to find him. There you are, comes his voice from behind you, and you turn so quickly that you become dizzy. But he is there, wounded yet alive, and he is offering you a smile that you struggle to return. You fall into his arms, he into yours, hold each other with all the strength that you have. And when an arrow pierces through your heart, spearing through his chest, you are connected even when you fall, lifeless⎯

This time, you wake with a gasp and a speeding heart, images so vivid still lingering in your mind. Your chest is still sore where your heart lies, the organ heavy with another’s grief, and you are surprised to find yourself covered in your own tears.

Still in the dirt, still nude, still alive, and still confused, you know that the only way to survive is to keep moving. Memories of dreams that had felt so real may plague your mind for a while, but you cannot dwell. You have had nightmares before, strange and also plausible ones, and you know. You know that to submit to the darkness of your own mind is a death sentence in itself. So you stand up, dust off your bare skin, and begin walking in an unknown direction.

You only cast one glance back at the bodies behind you. Your team, in all probability. Your friends. You are leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

This, too, you do not allow yourself to dwell on. Not now. Not yet.

Though the night has long since begun, darkness creeping into every corner of the room, one figure lies awake, thinking. Listening.

He is selfish, he supposes, for choosing not to sleep in a time when it can be so important. He should be allowing the visions to greet him, remembering the details, soaking it all in. Instead, he blinks away his exhaustion in exchange for wandering thoughts. He is not ready to allow another’s memories into his mind; for his to enter their’s. He has unwillingly revealed his sins to far too many already.

Hoseok is afraid. And he is tired.

Around him, his six loves breathe deeply, bodies relaxed in slumber and minds lost to the visions of their eighth soul. Some stir, occasionally, and he is sure he’s heard one of the maknaes whimper, but all is otherwise silent.

He would die a million painful deaths just to ensure that they could maintain this peace forever. He supposes he has, already. But he doesn’t regret it. Not for them.

Though the silence is calming, it also beckons his eyes closed and his mind into darkness. So, in an attempt to battle the tantalising call of sleep, he rolls over, stands up, and quietly sneaks out of the crumbling building they’ve taken shelter in.

The air outside nips at his skin, prickling goosebumps down his back and arms, but it is always chilly at this time of year, in this part of Europe. He forgets which country they’re in. Possibly close to France, but likely somewhere in Italy. He can smell salt in the air, the ocean not far away.

Yes. Italy.

Through thick undergrowth and overgrown weeds he wanders, mind idle and busy all at once. His feet take him around the perimeter of the area⎯a consequence, he supposes, of living a paranoid life⎯but his thoughts are elsewhere. On a girl he has yet to meet. On you.

How will you react, he wonders, to this life? To them? Through the brief flashes he has seen of you, you are a woman who seems steadfast, capable, and determined. But he’d also seen your team; felt the love you hold for them. Will you be able to part from the life that you can no longer lead? Will you eventually accept them as your new family?

There are too many questions, too many things to worry about. This is why he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from behind until two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You should be asleep.” The words are whispered beside his ear, warm breath fanning down his neck. He shivers, but doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

Hoseok sags into the strong embrace, allows the arms to tighten around his chest, and sighs. “I’m worried, Namjoon.” Namjoon hums, doesn’t say anything. “Is it selfish of me to not want to see her memories? To not want her in my head?”

A pair of plump lips kiss the tip of his ear. “Perhaps,” Namjoon says. When Hoseok stiffens, he pulls him closer. “But being selfish is not necessarily a bad thing. You are allowed to prioritise yourself every once in a while.” Namjoon can sense that Hoseok is not yet appeased, so he adds, “There are six of us here to take the visions when you can’t. And if you do decide to rest, there will be six of us here to hold you through it. Being selfish does not mean that you are alone.”

“I’m so tired,” Hoseok whispers, and they both know that he is not referring to his lack of sleep. “We’ve all got such baggage, so much hurt, and I wonder if adding the weight of an eighth will be too much.”

“Hey.” Namjoon gently turns Hoseok in his arms, holding him close still. They look into each other’s eyes, see everything that they have grown familiar with. That they have grown to love. “We will also have another person to help share the load. For now and forever, we are in this together. It’s okay to have doubts, or worries, but never forget that you are ours and we are yours.”

Foreheads touch and eyes close, the silence of the night engulfing them as they share each other’s heat. And here, they are okay. They still have fears, still have troubling thoughts, but they are not so bad when they are together.

“C’mon,” Namjoon mumbles. “Let’s go back inside. Whether you decide to sleep or not, we should stay with the others. You know how they can get about cuddle piles.”

This does make Hoseok breathe a laugh. “Okay. And hey, Namjoon.” He presses their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. “Thank you, my love.”

“My eternal,” Namjoon replies.

That night, they both allow sleep to take them. They join the others in dreams of bloodshed, heartache, and death. And they hold each other a little closer. And they are okay.

< prev ⎯ next >

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batsforbadones · 2 years

Text

I posted 219 times in 2021

16 posts created (7%)

203 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 12.7 posts.

I added 39 tags in 2021

#slasher x reader - 9 posts

#slasher x you - 7 posts

#slasher fic - 5 posts

#slasher - 4 posts

#slasher meme - 3 posts

#brahms heelshire - 3 posts

#brahms x you - 2 posts

#slasher memes - 2 posts

#house of wax - 2 posts

#jed olsen - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 76 characters

#i want to--- write the brahms one. i think i will try the brahms one *cries*

My Top Posts in 2021

Ahhh I love your writing so much! Could I request ghostface calling the reader up on the phone taunting her, then end in some nasty stuff happening?

I decided to do Jed :) Idk I feel like he or Billy would be the most fun to have mock you over the phone. There it was, that light sound that brought with it such heavy air. In your pants and paint stained shirt, you shot up from your bed, grabbing the phone embarrassingly fast.

"Hello?" You breathed into the receiver. The silence made your stomach flip. Your breathing shook, a hand crawling to your throat. "Answer me." You croaked.

"Hi." The hand crawled up to hide your face. Your knees joined, and soon you sat in a small ball. You bit your thumb, your toes curling into the bed sheets. "Who am I speaking with?" There it was- that gravel- that airy, rough voice that sent a shot of adrenaline straight down your spine and into your cotton pants.

"Y/n. Y/n." You repeated. "Is this the creep? I told you to stop-"

"People tell me to do a lot of things. That doesn't mean I have to listen to them. Even less, you. You love when I do things you tell me not to." You huffed, the denial dying on your tongue as you heard the knock outside your window. You flinched, thighs catching the hand you hadn't noticed had come to rest on your warm sex. "Legs open, slut."

Your obedience was immediate and explicit, yanking your pants down to spread your legs and present your needy hole. A laugh from the phone shot through you, making you squirm a bit, but not enough to knock your knees back together. You wanted him to see. You wanted him to mock and tease and-

"God, you're so fucking weird, you know that?"

"I'm not weird." You snapped. You struggled to identify any conviction in the statement.

"You so are. I mean- picture this," You squeezed your eyes shut. "Some weird bitch, alone in her sleazy, lock broken apartment, talking to some peeping tom with a murder hard on over the phone- And then she spreads her legs, practically begging to get fucked and killed by said peeping tom- What is this, Twilight?" He was a comedian, obviously.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck yourself." He snapped. Your fingers sank into your cunt at his command. He let out a blood curdling laugh at the sound of your broken moan. "Jesus, you are fucking weird. Would you fuck yourself with my knife if I gave it to you?"

"You have a knife?"

"I have two. Ones a tactical knife. Real pretty. Real long. The other one is between my legs and it's seven inches- Real pretty. Real long-"

"Oh fuck- Stab me. Stab me. Stab me-" You whispered.

"Really?" With that word, the line went dead-

And your window slid open.

122 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 00:21:21 GMT

I will never forgive him for giving us both when we deserved neither

123 notes • Posted 2021-07-04 22:21:14 GMT

Hello, this is my first time here... Well, I could place an order, if possible.

What will be the reaction of the Slachers (Michael, Jason, Brahms, Vincent, Bo and another killer of their choice) to the reader who acts so sweetly and protectively with them and the people they care about, but it has a sadistic side and even a little cruel with the words when they are people she doesn't like.

welcome to the good burger home of the good burger, can i get your order- I only write for Brahms, actually. I need to watch House Of Wax, soon, though.

- You mean his ideal type? - Only loves and cares about him? About his wants and needs? Treats him like a good boy? A loving nanny? Is that what you mean? - Hates the people that come in and make him sad as much as he hates the people that make you sad? -So you love him. That's all Brahms sees. He encourages this ever chance he gets. He fawns and praises- Oh you're so pretty when you're mad, Y/n, please, don't ever change? -You're perfect. You're protective and loving and accommodating- God, how fucking dare you make him feel so precious and treasurable. -You've put yourself in treacherous waters. His only solution is to become more obsessed. He's your everything, right? All of that defending, and praise- All of that passive aggression when he's insulted- He's clearly, your everything- Why can't you be his?

134 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 01:16:27 GMT

Could you place my order if possible, please ...

How will the Slachers (Brahms, Michael, Jason, Vincent, Bo and other assassines of your choice) look when they are sick and how will the reader take care of them?

welcome to good burger, home of the good burger-I'm in a new and spooky mood my friends with it being the start of October, so time to answer some Slasher fucker ask! hopping back into the grind! BRAHMS

-Always fun to characterize what childish mannerism Brahms will adopt in certain situations. -On one hand? Absolute wreck. Doesn't want to move. Begs nanny for a kiss even if it means hey tgets sick- Other hand? Busy body. He just can't accept the idea that he's ill. He has to bring in food. He has to keep you safe? How can he keep you safe when he's like this? -Does he want you to make him soup and tuck him in? Or does he sob through mucus in the walls, afraid of appearing weak to you in a way he can't control? He's a creature of self-prescribed submission. There's still control in that. -His immunity is godly in the first place. He's literally adapted to being sub-human. He's your big, strong man- He doesn't feel very big and strong. -Would probably tough it out like the absolute lumberjack he is and then have a very long mental trial with himself about it. Sick time is not a good time. Brahms no likey. VINCENT

-He feels so fucking bad. The level of self-hatred running through this man's veins as you as him what's wrong. He can't stifle the cough. What a fucking embarrassment. He can't do anything right- He can't even keep his body in shape. -There's no toss up about what Vincent does. He toughs through it. Even when he's shaking because god, his body isn't used to this level of weakness, he's still trying to maintain hand strength enough to carve and meld. -''Why didn't you finish your sculpture?" He gives you this silent, tilted stare with a light shift in his stance as if to say 'I didn't like it', but in actuality, he was having these terrible spasms from the chills- -Absolute wreck. With Brahms, its fine. He's not getting infected by anything severe- Vincent would be having hot flashes. He is a walking encasement of stuffy conditions. He's going through hell, and he refuses to let you see. -He's already enough of a mistake. He doesn't want to burden you anymore. BO

-No toss up. This man has never been inflicted with an illness a day in his life, and it ain't gonna start here. He's entirely capable of powering through it. Sniffles at best, but this cold blooded mama's boy ain't lifting a finger to exist if he knows you're going to nurse him back to.... well, not having a runny nose. -If you can't cook, you would've learned how by now. Baby Boy is laying on the couch with a quilt on him. He's got his sprite and his crackers and he's watching something about deers while you hold his hand. Chicken noodle soup- The fixin's. -Him calling you mama is a Freudian slip. -It won't happen again, he swears it.

250 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 07:23:56 GMT

hcs for someone walking in on danny, joe, brahams, and frank doing the do w their s/o?😳

PLEASE basically murdered me with this ask. I'm foaming at the mouth stfu omg- DANNY- -Definitely fucking you in the middle of the trial -Every other survivor could not give less of a fuck. As far as they're concerned, the longer he holds out, the longer they have to get generators done. Easy win. -You're fucking by a generator though, and Felix rounds the corner, shouts, and then quickly turns away, mumbling something a kin to a prayer. -"Who was that?" Danny asks. "Blonde one? Uh-- fucking--- Felix! Felix, right?" He comes practically on command, dropping you down by the generator. -Two screams and a couple of palette smacks later, and Danny is back by your side while Felix is being lifted up into the sky by the Entity's grubby little claws. - - "I asked him to join, cause he was like- totally pitching a tent, but he turned me down, weird, right?" -"Turned him down?" Felix would ask, back at the campfire. "I was the one that asked to join-" JOE- -If I'm not wrong you mean YOU Joe which ??? omg ?? thank you for this??? probably a typo and you meant Joey but I'm going to give myself the benefit of the doubt -He's a normal guy, remember? He's going to react normally. With shock. He curses, jumps up, and hides the both of you as quickly as he can. It's a normal thing to have happen. That was on him. He'll apologize. He didn't lock the door. He made the mistake. -He wouldn't get jealous of something like this, genuinely. This is a normal thing. All of his freak outs have been sourced back to you and something that actually matters. Like that waiter asking for your number and you being too dumb to realize that they were flirting, Y/n, you silly goose. Or that man at the train station that tried to take pictures of you- THOSE were causes for concern. -He doesn't like that your first instinct is to go and explain yourselves, though. It wasn't like you were fucking in public- This is YOUR house, silly. -He can fuck you whenever he wants :) -He's quick to talk you back into bed. Societal expectations be damned, baby- All we need is now- -And all he needs is you. BRAHMS- -Stops kind of like how dogs stop fucking when you yell at them. -At first, he's just pulling back, coming out of a bit of a blur- -Then he's scrambling off with murderous intent. I don't doubt for a minute Brahms would kill someone with his dick still out. He's on you one second, off the next, and then back on you, going even harder, and there's a dead body to the left of you. His hands are soaked in blood, and he is sinking into you again without hesitation. -His hand prints are starch on your thighs. -He's seems more vicious when he comes back. Brahms is a moaner- an egregious one at that, but now he's borderline sobbing- He's so mentally over stimulated he's practically foaming at the mouth. His murder hard on is vile- -He's an instinctually driven guy. Anything to get that cave man brain of his up and active is going to make the experience all the worse better. FRANK- -Doesn't stop. Won't stop. He's busy making you busy. Best you're going to get from the guy in terms of reaction is a quick over the shoulder flip of the bird, but even then, he doesn't stop. He doesn't even turn his head. -He's busy. -After the poor fucker leaves, he'll probably mumble some half assed threat of violence- Something really gory and vile- Will potentially kill your vibe, but once again- The man is busy. -Your hole is so good he's not thinking straight, truly. -"I should've stabbed them. Fucking knock- god it can't be that fucking hard- jesus- fuck- fuck -f ucking- right through the fucking eye socket I'm- God- damn-"

816 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 00:54:13 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i cant believe my longest tag is me foaming about brahms #im not shocked #slasher x reader

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gwynposting · 3 years

Text

Justice (Ch. 1)

This is the start of an alternate ending for Cyberunk 2077, focused around Judy as she tries to help V rid herself of the relic without also shedding her soul in the process.

AO3 Link

The feigning scent of nicotine clouds leftover from the trapped remnants of Maiko’s cigarette sent itching pulses of desire through V’s body. The activation throughout her body startled and scared her. She didn’t smoke. She hadn’t puffed a stick in her life and yet she eased into it like she was sitting in a favorite chair. More than once had she caught herself reaching for a cigarette from Evelyn’s pack before swiping the inner thoughts of Johnny away.

The clack of Maiko’s stilettos began to fade into the background, “Maiko, hold up. Give us a lift?” Roxanne called out.

“Only if you don’t talk to me,” Maiko responded bitterly, “I feel a migraine coming on.”

She’s not the only one, V thought to herself. It almost felt like the cigarette fumes had been a trigger for it - like her brain was trying to associate the smell to memories that she’s never experienced before, that never existed. Flashes of seething bitter hatred and insecurity and jealousy pulsed through her veins came and went.

It took the breath out of her, and V had to brace herself with both hands to remain upright.

“Oh shit,” Judy said as she siddled besides V, “I’m scared, V.”

Judy looked down to her lap before continuing, “Speakin’ of gratitude… stuff I’m askin’ you to do, well - usually comes with a price tag, I know. You wanna help, I get that. But I’m more’n happy to pay your fee in full.”

V shifted her weight to her right arm so she could wave Judy away with her left, “C’mon Judy, you serious? Out of the question.”

“Bu-” Judy tried to make her case.

“Ah ah ah,” V tutted, “Not… not a word,” dizziness began to set in - her head began to swim and V found it difficult to even complete a sentence. She tried to provide a smile of assurance, but by the expression on Judy’s face, she wasn’t buying it.

“You okay V?” Judy reached out and placed a hand on V’s knee.

V looked up to meet Judy’s concerned eyes, which she could only meet with her own - unfocused and strained. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, just a long day.”

“How ‘bout I call a cab then,” Judy soothed.

“Preem,” V replied, before placing both hands on her knees and trying to lift herself up from the couch. “Thanks -” she began before what felt like electricity shot through her nervous system.

V clutched her head in agony as if it would stop the cosmic force tormenting her from using her skull as a sharpening stone. Every scrape and slice caused by another memory overwriting her brain, another one of her memories lost to time as one more of Johnny Silverhand’s took its place.

RELIC MALFUNCTION DETECTED

V’s legs gave out from under her. She reached out for the couch’s siding to fall back onto.

But she was far too weak to support herself, and her legs began to give out from under her until she collapsed on the cushion below.

“V? Are you okay?” Judy’s voice sounded distant.

She barely even heard Judy. She was breathless, her heart raced. She was staring down the barrel of Dexter Deshawn and he had just put a bullet through her skull.

“V?” Judy’s words became more desperate, “Talk to me.”

It sounded like V was underwater and all she could hear were the muffled desperate cries of Judy, until finally Judy reached out and shook her shoulder.

“V,” Judy stressed, “please.”

But as quickly as the searing pain shot through her body, it soon dissipated. Yet she continued to stare forward, past Judy and into the distance - she still stood down the barrel of Deshawn’s .22.

“S-sorry to scare you like that,” V attempted a smile. Her cheeks were a deep scarlet, whether flush from the pain moments before or from the embarrassment of having Judy bear witness to one of her episodes.

“W-what the fuck, V,” Judy’s voice had a hint of shakiness, “are you like… sick?”

“Something like that,” V said with a gruff. She still felt in a sort of daze, her muscles struggled to keep herself upright. “How much you wanna know?”

Judy tilted her head, “Only what you want to, V. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

V looked off to the side before her eyes rested upon her lap, “Well,” V said with a choke that even caught herself off guard, “Might have bad news for you.”

She attempted to look Judy in the eye but faltered under their piercing worry, “You know the heist that Evelyn hired us for, the relic I was gonna klep?”

“Couldn’t forget that in a million years,” Judy said somberly.

“I’ll spare you the gritty details but… in short the chip we stole’s stuck in my head. The chip is keeping me alive, but it’s also slowly killing me.”

Judy seemed taken aback, “You bein’ serious?”

“Sounds like a lot, I know. Truly wish it was all bullshit, believe me.”

“Fuck,” Judy muttered under her breath, “Anything at all you can do?”

“One can hope,” V withered.

Judy gave a sad smile, “It’s late, you’re tired. You can crash here for the night if you’d like,” Judy gave a reassuring pat on the knee to V.

V could only nod in return, “Thanks, Jude.”

Judy stood up and walked back to her room while V took the opportunity to kick off her boots and lay down on the couch. There wasn’t a pillow to lean on, but V couldn’t care less - she was already half asleep by the time her cheeks touched the couch.

“I got some pillows and a blanket for -” Judy cut herself off as she saw V fast asleep on her couch, arms splayed out and face straight down. She couldn’t help but smile, “Pssh, fuckin’ gonk.”

Judy shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, creeping up to the sleeping merc. With as careful a touch as she could, she cradled V’s head in one hand as she slipped a pillow underneath. She then took the blanket and splayed it atop her body.

Judy looked down upon V’s form and found it hard to take her eyes away. To see such a force of nature so vulnerable, so…

Adorable…

It sent butterflies to the pit of Judy’s stomach.

But in the same moment those butterflies turned to boulders, sinking within as she felt the gravity of the emotions within - vulnerability.

Of course she’s fucking dying, the dark thoughts appeared in Judy’s head. And while they were immediately beaten back down by conscious thought, she wasn’t able to push down the underlying fear that she’d open herself up to someone once more, only to lose them to the inevitable grind of Night City’s heel. But her mind was no more hostage to her first impulse as she was to her second - there was an ever present war taking place within her.

How could I be so selfish? She’s fucking dying and I immediately make it about myself.

Judy hadn’t even realized she’d reached for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket until her other hand failed to locate her lighter. Deciding she didn’t want to bother having a fight with herself on a nicotine-deprived brain, she waited until she was back on the roof of her building, lit cigarette in hand, staring out to the NC skyline.

Is it too much to ask for just one thing to go right, she asked herself.

Yet Judy quickly reminded herself, You’re acting like she’s your girlfriend already.

Judy cursed herself at even the thought - she didn’t even know if V was even into women. She took a heavy draw from her cigarette before flicking it off the balcony.

***

Judy’s gaze lingered on V’s sleeping form. Maybe she was looking a bit too close - her eyes focused on a couple strands of hair drooped over V’s face. She had the overwhelming desire to sweep them back over the merc’s ear, but ultimately decided not.

“Goodnight, V.”

***

Sharp cracks raced through the air. Although used to the familiar tenors, V shot up in an instant - her hair raised on end, breath rapid, and heartbeat racing. More gunfire sprung forth, followed by the screeching squeal of rubber against pavement. The gripping roar of motorcycles soon began to fade into the streets of Kabuki.

V clutched her chest as she tried to calm herself down. She was fine.

For now.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, the throbbing headache leftover from last night’s attack took its place. V groaned in pain as she began to feel her own heartbeat through her head.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Judy called out.

V turned to see Judy in the kitchen making breakfast. She tried to match the energy Judy was bestowed but could only manage a pained half-smile. “Helluva alarm clock.”

“Things have been getting hot between Maelstrom and the Tyger Claws lately,” Judy sighed, “it doesn't help that I live on the border of their territories.”

Judy paused what she was doing and instead took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. She also grabbed a pill bottle and doled out a couple in her hand and brought them both over to V.

“Coffee and,” she held out her hand for V, dropping its contents into her hand, “ibuprofen. And I hope you like ham.”

“Wow,” V replied, “thanks, Judy. And yeah, I love it.”

“Least I can do.” Judy said with a smile before returning to the kitchen.

Least I can do, she repeated in her thoughts.

V tossed both tablets in her mouth and washed it down with several large gulps of coffee. The scalding liquid coating the inside of her mouth was the least of her concerns, she needed caffeine inside her ASAP.

When Judy was finished, she brought over a fresh ham sandwich. V took it and scarfed it down, only to blush as she realized what a messy eater she was being.

Wiping her lips clean, she looked up to see Judy sitting on the couch a ways away looking vaguely concerned, “Sorry I uh, freaked you out last night.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Judy asked.

V rubbed her neck, not wanting to lay it all on Judy at once, “It’s not usually that bad.”

“C’mon, V. Cut the shit. What’s really going on?”

“No gettin’ around this, huh?” V asked, but really it was more a statement of fact, knowing Judy.

Judy gave a half smile, but it gave away her underlying fears and doubts, “I’m worried, V.”

Something deeper pierced V, she couldn’t pinpoint it. All she knew was she couldn’t deny Judy this request, “You want the long version, then?”

“Call it a thanks for breakfast,” Judy smirked.

“Might want to get comfortable then. Because well, shit, where do I begin?” V thought for a moment before continuing once more, “So, my choom and I, big guy named Jackie, tangled with this hotshot fixer, Dexter Deshawn.”

“He’s the one who put you in contact with Evie?” Judy asked.

V nodded, “Mhm, as well as make us run some errands,” V said with a scoff, “but anyways, the job was to hit Konpeki Plaza, right? Klep some biochip that the son of ‘Saka was stealing for himself.”

“Which is why you came in for the braindances,” Judy affirmed.

“Exactly. But the job went wrong, as you know. I lost Jackie getting out of Konpeki. And…”

“...and?” Judy said, softly, not wanting to sound too impatient.

“I died, Judy. I fucking died.” V shuddered at the thought.

“Are you… are you joking right now?” How are you alive?” Judy leaned forward in disbelief.

“Remember that chip we were stealin’? Well, the container got busted when we were escaping. The next best place to store it was hooked into one of our brains, apparently. Jackie took the honors initially but… well….” V shook her head, “So I slotted the shard in myself after Jackie died.”

“I’m sorry, by the way. Truly,” Judy soothed as she scooched closer across the sofa so that she was now in touching distance between V.

V could really only offer a smile of acknowledgement in return, for she felt nothing but agony when she looked inward. “Guess the biochip was my saving grace - Dexter Deshawn double crossed me, put a bullet in my skull. I died then. But the craziest part is that the chip restarted my brain, god knows how much later. And I woke up to find myself in a junkyard in the badlands, covered in filth in debris.”

“J-Jesus fuck, V.” Judy’s voice hitched, “But I guess you made it out, all things considered.”

V nodded, “Got back only to realize I had the engram of a terrorist in my brain - Johnny Silverhand.”

“Woah, woah,” Judy waved, “engram?”

“Think of it like some digitized psyche, like if someone downloaded your entire brain and saved it to memory. His psyche is on the chip inside me.”

“Okay okay, so like the ‘Saka commercials just… just in your brain.”

“Yeah, something like that. But I guess when it restarted my brain, the chip began erasing me and writing in Johnny.”

“Fuck,” Judy stuttered. “So you’re becoming Johnny Silverhand?”

“Yeah,” V’s voice cracked, tears began to form on high cheekbones. “In a few weeks’ time, I’ll be someone completely different. I won’t even exist.”

Judy instantly moved to V’s side and wrapped an arm about her, pulling her close. “I wonder what it’ll be like to die for a second time,” V pondered dryly.

“Is there really nothing you can do?” Judy almost pleaded.

“There’s a few leads. I’m waiting to hear back from a fixer that can put me in touch with the Voodoo Boys, and I still need to look into finding the lead researcher for the biochip.”

“Ok,” Judy breathed deeply, “Alright. Then you focus on that, okay? And listen, I know you said you’d help out with Clouds but this is your life on the line here, V, I’d completely understand if you back out.”

“I said I was helping Judy, and that’s final.”

V’s assuredness sent a shiver down Judy’s spine - her unwavering voice, despite cracked with emotion moments before, her steadied eyes, still reddened from irritation and tears yet firm in their conviction, and the almost offended expression on her face to even suggest that she’d go back on her promise.

“Then... keep me posted? About how it goes... If you want,” Judy stumbled over her words. “I want to help if I can.”

“Of course, Judy. And thanks,” V smiled in appreciation.

Even the slightest gesture made Judy’s heart flutter. This gonk will be the death of me.

#cyberpunk 2077 #judy alvarez #judy x v #female v #v x judy #Justice2077

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malfoymanortings · 3 years

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lavender and velvet //part seven

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: to be decided.

hello all! hope you all are doing lovely and had a good thanksgiving. dont forget, im accepting requests for just about anything, and you can find the info on my masterlist post pinned to the top of my page. i would love to write stuff for yall! anyways, enjoy!

taglist: @person1839 @big-galaxy-chaos @spooderham @iamashlynmarie @acciosiriusblack @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ivettt @msmarklee1213 @briargardens

as always, just let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!

“Miss Black, wake up.”

Juliet was jolted from her sleep to the sound of her head of house’s voice, opening her eyes to see Snape looming over her menacingly. The sight caused her to jump to attention immediately, and she quickly sat up while eyeing him suspiciously.

“Professor Snape, why are you..” Juliet trailed off, very confused.

“Arthur Weasley has been injured,” Snape responded distastefully, motioning for her to get out of bed. “You are due in Dumbledore’s office with the rest of his children and Mr. Potter.”

“Is he alright?” adrenaline now waking her thoroughly, Juliet hurried off the bed, ignoring Snape’s grimace when he saw she was only wearing a shirt. She quickly tugged on shorts, grabbing her robe and her wand.

“I am unsure of his condition,” Snape was clearly annoyed now. “I had to get you quickly so that you could leave with the rest. Unless you want to be left behind, I suggest you come now.”

“What about my trunk, my owl?” Juliet questioned, following Snape out of the dormitory and down the steps. The castle floor was cold on her bare feet, and she cursed herself for not thinking of putting on her shoes.

“It will all find its way to you.” Snape responded dismissively, opening the door leading out to the common room.

The two walked swiftly to Dumbledore’s office in silence, Juliet’s heart pounding in her chest. How had Arthur been hurt? Was it something to do with the Order? It had to have been bad, for them to rouse the Weasley’s and her out of their sleep to leave the castle.

Snape entered Dumbledore’s office first, where Harry and the Weasley’s were gathered around the headmaster’s desk. Juliet followed suit, immediately drawing her eyes on George, who stood next to Fred with similar expressions of worry and fear on their faces.

“Oh Georgie, Freddie,” Juliet breathed out, gathering the tall boys in a group hug. They held back to her tightly for a moment, before they all pulled away from each other. “What’s happened?”

“Harry saw dad being attacked,” George answered, looking quite shaken. “We dunno if he’s going to be alright or not.”

“He will,” Juliet replied forcefully, taking George’s hand in her own. “He has to be.”

“You have all used a Portkey before?” asked Dumbledore, interrupting whatever George was going to say. Everyone looked at the old man, nodding as they reached out to touch some part of the blackened kettle on his desk. “Good. On the count of three then… one… two… three.”

Juliet felt a powerful jerk behind her navel, the ground vanished beneath her feet, her hand was glued to the kettle; she was banging into other others as all sped forward in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onward and then-

Her feet hit the ground so hard that her knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground and somewhere close at hand a voice said, “Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their fathers dying…?”

“OUT!” roared a second voice.

Juliet winced as she felt a pain in her feet; it seemed as though she had scraped them quite good after their harsh arrival into the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher’s loincloth swished around the corner leading out to the hall, and Sirius hurried over to them all, looking anxious. He was unshaved and still in his day clothes, and Juliet scrunched her nose as the scent of stale drink wafted towards them.

“What’s going on?” he said, stretching a hand to help Ginny up. “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured-”

“Ask Harry,” said Fred.

“Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,” said George in a tight voice.

Without much thought, Juliet slipped her small hand into his large one, giving him a comforting squeeze. George held back tightly, his eyes trained on Harry with a hard look.

Everyone was staring at Harry, even Kreacher's footsteps on the stairs had paused. Harry looked overwhelmed for a moment, before he launched into his tale of seeing Arthur be bitten by a rather large snake. Juliet eyed him carefully, as she had noticed a look Ron had given him when he described the scene. What was the chosen one leaving out?

Fred and George immediately began demanding they head straight off to St. Mungos, which caused an argument with Sirius. He explained that Arthur had been hurt while on duty for the Order, and it was all too dangerous for them to have already got word before anyone else. It made sense to Juliet, but of course, Fred and George were forces to be reckoned with when it came to their family.

“We don’t care about the dumb Order!” shouted Fred, cutting Sirius off.

“It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!” yelled George.

“Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” Sirius said angrily in his turn. “This is how it is -this is why you aren’t in the order- you don’t understand- there are things worth dying for!”

“Easy for you to say, stuck here!” bellowed Fred. “I don’t see you risking your neck!”

“Enough,” Juliet stepped in, standing in between her father and the twins, who glared at her. “This is hard for everyone. Think of how Umbridge has been. Do you really think it would be wise for us to rush St Mungos when no one should know about your dad yet? Whose to say they wouldn’t assume he was working against the ministry, and they either make sure he dies, or fires him?”

Fred and George still looked mutinous, but Sirius shot her a grateful look. He glanced back at Fred, and for a moment it looked like he wanted to hit the ginger haired boy, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.

“We just have to stay put, until we hear from your mother. Alright?”

Ginny was the first to sit down. Harry and Ron sat next, at the opposite side of the table. Juliet sat next to Ginny, wincing as pain flared up from her feet. The twins glared at Sirius once more, then George sat next to Juliet while Fred sat next to Ginny.

“That’s right,” said Sirius encouragingly. “Come on, let’s all…. Let’s all have a drink while we’re waiting. Accio butterbeer!”

He raised his wand as he spoke and a dozen bottles of butterbeer came flying onto the table from the pantry. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.

At some point, George’s hand had found Juliet’s once more. She ran her thumb consolingly over the back of his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. In turn, George wrapped his arm around her, keeping hold of her other hand. Juliet rested her other hand on his thigh, tracing circles over his pajama pants.

Harry seemed to be deep in thought, across the table from them, his brows furrowed and guilt written all over his face. Juliet frowned slightly. Had it not been for Harry, they would have had no idea that Arthur had even been injured. Harry shouldn’t feel guilty.

A flash of light appeared, and with it came a note from Molly, delivered by Fawkes. She told them all to stay put, and she was with Arthur now. It didn’t sound very hopeful, and that was clear to everyone in the room.

“Still alive..” George said slowly. “But that makes it sound…”

He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded as though Arthur was hovering somewhere between live and death. Juliet held onto George’s hand tighter, and he laid his head on top of hers. Fred examined the letter himself, taking it out of George’s hand. Ron stared at the letter, as though he hoped it would bring him words of comfort.

At some point, Sirius suggested they all go to bed, but the murderous glares from the Weasley’s were enough to answer. They sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sink lower and lower into the liquid wax. They spoke only to check the time, wonder aloud what was happening, and reassure each other that if there was bad news , they would know straight away, as Molly was at St Mungo’s then.

Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways on his shoulder. Ginny had curled up on her chair like a cat, but her eyes remained open. Ron had his head in his hands, and it was difficult to tell if he was awake or not. George kept his head rested on Juliet’s, the grip of their hands onto each other letting her know that he wasn’t asleep.

Finally, at ten past five in the morning, the door swung open and Molly entered the kitchen. Everyone half stood in their chairs, but Molly waved them back down, giving a wan smile. She informed them that he would be alright, he was sleeping, and Bill was sitting with him now.

They all let out shaky sighs and sounds of relief, and George, Ginny, and Juliet walked over to give Molly a hug. Sirius declared they had breakfast, and although he called for Kreacher, the house elf didn’t appear. He began breakfast himself, and Juliet slipped away to help him, Harry, of course, joined him.

Eventually, Molly came over, waving Harry and Juliet off, to begin breakfast. She told Sirius that they would probably be spending Christmas there with him, and he beamed brightly at the news.

Juliet felt the sudden urge to talk with her father, maybe vent about Umbridge, but before she could, Harry had taken him out of the room for a talk. Her face fell, and perhaps it was the mix of disappointment and lack of sleep, but she felt tears fill her eyes.

“Come on now darling, there’s no need for tears,” George appeared at her side, giving her a kind smile. “Let’s sit at the table while we wait for breakfast.” he reached a hand out, his thumb swiping at a tear that had escaped and rolled down her cheek.

Juliet swallowed hard, and followed George to the table with the rest of his siblings. Soon, breakfast was served and they all ate rather quickly, the nerves of the night having made them ravenous. Once they were done, and the table was cleared up, Molly ordered them all to bed. She told them that once they woke up, they would go back to visit Arthur.

The kids all trudged upstairs, Harry and Ron entering the same room they had spent the summer in. Juliet went to follow Ginny inside the room they had shared with Hermione, but George tugged on her arm.

“Would you mind..” George trailed off, suddenly looking shy. It was very unlike him. “Can you sleep in mine?”

“Oh,” Juliet paused, thoughts of Theo swarming her head. Well, he wouldn’t care anyways, would he? She and George always did this. Surely Theo wouldn’t mind, not that he would find out anyways. “Of course, Georgie.”

George smiled down at her, and she followed the twins into their room. Fred immediately fell into the bed, pulling the covers over his head, and it sounded as though he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Juliet laid in the bed first, shrugging her robe off before she did so. She was aware of George’s eyes on her, but she ignored it. After all, he was just waiting for her to get in bed so he could lay down. He was surely worn out from waiting all night for news on his father. That was all.

George slid in next to her, turning on his side to face her. Juliet peered up at him, getting lost in the many freckles that dotted his nose. He reached out a hand, swiping her hair out of her face, resting his palm on her cheek. Juliet’s heart quickened, and she glanced at his lips before looking at his brown eyes, glistening with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

“Jules,” George’s voice was soft, full of exhaustion, and his eyes fluttered shut as he pulled her into his chest. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Georgie..” Juliet swallowed hard, looking at the face of her best friend. That didn’t sound like something you said to your best friend.

George’s lips parted, and he let out a deep breath. His face relaxed, making him look much younger than his seventeen years. He was asleep, no doubt ragged from the exhaustion of the night's turn of events.

For a long moment, Juliet stared at his face. He was so handsome in a ruggedly, manly yet boyish way. His smile could brighten the darkest day and his laughter would make you laugh yourself, especially because it normally followed a joke. This close, his lips in such proximity to her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if she just inched further and pressed them to her own-

Merlin, what was she thinking? This was her best friend she was talking about. Besides that, he had Alicia Spinnet. And she had Theo, even though they hadn’t given each other a label yet.

Juliet screwed her eyes shut, and before long, she had fallen asleep in his embrace.

For the first time, Juliet woke up before George. It had felt like she had jolted awake, and she glanced around the room wondering what had caused it. Of course, the cause of it was Fred, who was tugging on a shirt with his trunk next to him.

“Afternoon, Jules,” Fred winked at her, looking at how she was wrapped in George’s arms. “Nice sleep?”

“Why’d you say it like that?” Juliet was immediately defensive, and despite not wanting to, she pulled out of George’s arms. She missed his warmth at once. “We always sleep together- not together, but in the same bed- oh for fucks sake, you know what I mean!”

Fred let out a roar of laughter at her words, grabbing his stomach as he fell onto his bed. He shook the frame, he was laughing so hard.

“Merlin, can you be any louder..” George sat up, his hair ruffled from his sleep. His eyes fell onto Juliet, who was an unflattering shade of maroon as she sat next to him. “What’s going on?”

“Freddie’s just being an arse,” Juliet grumbled, carefully climbing out of bed. “I see our trunks have come. I’ll have to get ready, I’m sure we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Alright, see you,” George gave her a half wave, sitting up and glaring at Fred. “Merlin's beard Fred, what is your problem?”

Juliet left the room before she could hear his response, nearly running into Ginny in the hallway. The redhead was brushing her wet hair, her dirty clothes bundled up in her arms.

“Good, you’re up,” Ginny nodded to her, walking into their room. “We’re leaving in about ten.”

Juliet dressed quickly, jeans and a hoodie, and walked downstairs. Molly was speaking to Sirius in hushed tones, and their conversation cut off rather quickly once she came down the steps.

“Hello, dear,” Molly smiled, looking out of place on her haggard face. “Good to see you.”

Nearly at once, everyone else came bounding down the steps. Within minutes, everyone except for Sirius was heading to St. Mungos. It was most unassuming, appearing to be an abandoned muggle shop, but it was the entrance to the Wizarding hospital.

Moody and Tonks had arrived with them, but they stayed out in the hallway while the others entered the room. Arthur was doing well, sitting up and reading a book, and he thanked Harry for saving him. Soon enough, Molly was herding the kids out of the room so they could speak privately with Moody and Tonks.

It was a pleasant visit, but Fred and George had the great idea of using their Extendable ears to listen in on their discussion. Juliet was huddled around with them, as they all fought to listen in on the conversation.

“The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake… Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him, then there’s no telling what can happen. Dumbledore has to take whatever precautions he can.”

Juliet pulled away from the Extendable Ear, glancing over at Harry who was now white as a sheet. The others were looking at him too, giving him a fearful once over.

Was it possible Harry was being possessed?

They left back for Grimmauld Place shortly after. The mood was subdued, mainly due to the information they heard through their eavesdropping. Molly didn’t seem to notice much, and began prattling on about their Christmas plans and how they were going to be going to Diagon Alley the following day for the kids to do their Christmas shopping.

After they arrived back, Harry went up to take a nap, claiming he didn’t feel well. Juliet could assume it probably had more to do with what they had overheard. Fred and George headed upstairs to work on more ideas for their shop. She, Ginny, and Ron went into the living room, and began playing Exploding Snap.

“So, Jules,” Ginny nudged her knee with her own, a grin on her face. “Theodore Nott? Are things getting serious?”

Juliet blushed, suddenly wishing this conversation hadn't come up. “I wouldn’t say that, no. We haven't really given ourselves a label. Just kind of going with the flow.”

“You guys snog all the time. Seriously, I feel like he’s always touching you in some way. Plus, he carries your books for you. Literally. I didn’t even know guys did that.”

“Well, we haven’t really discussed if we were dating or not.” Juliet was starting to get very uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going now.

“What’s this I hear?” Sirius suddenly appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. “Have you and George started dating, Juliet?”

“No!” sputtered Juliet, her face heating up as she threw out her arms in protest. “Absolutely not! We’re just friends.”

Sirius cocked a brow, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve never looked at my friends the way that boy looks at you. If you aren’t talking about George, then who are you talking about?”

Ginny began to speak, but Juliet cut her off. “No one. No one, just drop it.”

She really didn’t want her father to know she was kinda but not really dating Theodore Nott. His father was a Death Eater, she was pretty certain, and her father would certainly blow a fuse if he knew she was even friends with him.

“Alright, alright, I have other ways of finding out. Perhaps I should go have a talk with the twins…” with that, Sirius left the room.

Juliet groaned, falling backwards on the floor. She grabbed a pillow off the couch, and shoved it in her face, letting out a frustrated scream. Ginny laughed from beside her.

“Blimey, girls are difficult.” Ron muttered.

Juliet could only hope for the best.

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a-lil-bi-furious · 3 years

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10 Favorite Female Characters from 10 Different Fandoms

(List your 10 favorite female characters from 10 fandoms, then tag 10 people)

Thanks so much for the tag @aconfusedidentity! I just think that women 💕😍💕 this turned into an essay, whoops. In no particular order:

1) Kira Yukimura - Teen Wolf SHE!!! I love her endlessly. Awkward and sweet and oh so adorable. I love how shy she seems, but how obvious it is that she loves the mischief and chaos that comes with accidentally discovering she’s a kitsune and adopting a bunch of supernatural friends and the adrenaline rush of fighting for their lives and winning. She’s secretly so excited by the danger and the adventure and I love that for her. Also, she’s gorgeous and brilliant and funny and could easily kick anyone’s ass and I just think she’s neat. She deserved so much better. Jeff, we duel at dawn. I’ll see you in the desert where you left my love 😠🔪

2) Kara Danvers - Supergirl I just love her so so much. I will endlessly fawn over heroes who champion compassion and believe in the good of others above all else. I also appreciate that Kara is sweet and awkward and loving but is also allowed to express her rage. So many of her scenes dealing with anger are incredibly raw and emotional and as someone with similar struggles it’s just so refreshing to see. Also her DIMPLESSS I’m dying

3) Bonnie Bennett - The Vampire Diaries

Bonnie is the only person in Mystic Falls who never once makes me want to poke my eyes out. She’s gorgeous, brilliant, courageous, and powerful and no one would have survived in that town if she wasn’t there to save their asses. She deserves the world and I would personally fight Julie Plec if I saw her on the street for how she treated my girl. 🔪 She was used and abused and never got the credit or love she deserved, so now I will give it! I adore her.

4) Piper Halliwell - Charmed

My favorite of the Halliwell sisters has switched multiple times throughout my life, but as an adult I’ve pretty consistently settled on Piper. She just overall feels so relatable to me? She’s the sister who balances them all out. And I really appreciate the way her character evolved from being shy and sweet to bursting out of her shell to take shit from absolutely no one. She’s got a piping hot temper (get it? piping I’m hilarious) but circles back to make (mostly) level headed decisions to protect the ones she loves. Plus, she’s got the coolest powers and if I could have them I would (freeze time and blow up shit with my hands?? sounds DOPE).

5) Olivia Baker - All American

Have I mentioned yet I have a thing for compassionate characters?? Liv cares so deeply for all of the people in her life. She’s the voice of reason and the guiding light, a source of love and acceptance, and I love her for it. Her empathy for others means she neglects herself, though, so I really need my girl to keep working at valuing and taking care of herself too. Also, she’s one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen, I am FULL heart eyes.

6) Alice Kwan - Good Trouble

I’m actually devastated by how little content there is for Alice. And how few gifs especially! 😒 She’s hilarious for one, like, legitimately has me laughing which doesn’t happen much with shows. But she’s also just...smol and innocent and kind and really needs to learn to stand up for herself more often. Every episode I go in hoping to see more scenes with Alice because I love her and I actively miss her all the time 🥺

7) Isabelle Lightwood - Shadowhunters

My love 💜 Brave, smart, resourceful, gorgeous...I just love everything about her. Like so many of my favorite female characters, she could easily kick my ass (and, like, anyone else’s) which I love. I really appreciate what the show did for her by allowing her to be secure in herself and confident and more than just a pretty face. Also love that they had her and Clary actually be friendly and caring instead of at odds, A++.

8) Julie Molina - Julie and the Phantoms

I JUST LOVE HER AND HER LITTLE LEOPARD FEETS 😭 God, she is so talented! Her voice feeds my soul and makes my heart so full. I love that she’s kind and caring but also always shown to be strong in her convictions and conscientious of her own wants and needs. She sets boundaries and holds them and I have mad respect for that.

9) Ilana Wexler - Broad City

Listen, Ilana is just so fucking funny I can’t even handle her. I swear, this show is on crack and I love it. Ilana is a lot to handle, but is also exactly the kind of person to just make you feel like literally everything about you is okay and make you feel comfortable to say or do whatever you would normally inhibit yourself from, y’know? I’m a fairly reserved person, but Ilana would crack me open like a nut. I also really appreciate how openly and casually sexual she is, without it feeling like she’s being outwardly sexualized. It’s her expression of her sexuality, and I feel like women are almost never presented that way.

10) Raven Reyes - The 100

Raven is (one of) the love(s) of my life! She’s brilliant and resourceful and incredibly determined. And she endures so much. One of the things I most appreciate about Raven is her representation as someone with a disability. She gets shot, which causes damage to her hip that they don’t have the means to fix. For a couple seasons she’s in constant pain and has a leg brace which significantly hinders her mobility, but she is still strong and determined and presented as capable which I think is really valuable. I also just think that she’s so pretty and kind and reasonable. I just...I love her. I try to forget about this show most of the time, but I would never forget her <3

Tagging: @welldressedllama @momentofmemory @daughterofluthien @spikeface @donnas-troia @jamesqueerpotter @fearlessflame77 @rhyslahey @aphroditegifs @sillyteecup to participate if any of you would like (no pressure, of course)! And anyone who isn’t tagged but would like to!

#Kira Yukimura #Kara Danvers #Bonnie Bennett #Piper Halliwell #Olivia Baker #Alice Kwan #Isabelle Lightwood #Julie Molina #Ilana Wexler #Raven Reyes #10 favorite female characters #Tag games #long post

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

thieves in the shadows

part one | read on ao3

pairing | mal x mc [but other pairings could be implied]

word count | 6.5k

warnings | this is a crime au, so there are quite a few warnings. violence, blood, knives, guns, police, criticisms of religion etc. my mc is a detective in this series.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @jaxmatsuo, @pantcmime

author’s note | so for the last day of blades week, the lovely @pixelsandkink hosted a sleepover and one of the questions were “what type of au’s would you like to see?” and the idea of a crime au wormed its way into my brain and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! i tried to get the whole story done by epilogue day for @bladesappreciationweek but i only managed part one, so more’s to come – i really hope you like it !!! disclaimer: i had to make the names a bit more realistic since they’re human in this au, so tyril is ty, imtura is immy, and my mc zilyana is yana. another disclaimer: people hc imtura as black so she’s written as such in this fic!

•─────────────────•

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

before she could edge around the shield of crates to take her aim, the cold steel of the blade dug into the skin at the base of her throat.

“well, well,” the voice said. “you seem to be in a bit of a bind, detective nightbloom.”

––––

when she first got assigned to the case, she didn’t want anything to do with it. she was minding her business, just coming off of the high of the egovore case – she’d busted a druglord selling hallucinogenic laced opiates that’d killed a handful of teens in the area.

she turned the new case down initially, citing she needed a break, but in reality… she didn’t care to go undercover again. she’d been asked to do things she never wanted to do, like flirt with vicious criminals who could snap her in half without an ounce of remorse.

don’t get it twisted – she was meant to be a detective. it was in her blood.

but the things she was asked to do took a bit of a toll on her and she needed time to recuperate. she was exhausted, and quite frankly, wanted to be yana nightbloom for a couple of weeks before jumping into another identity.

however, when mayor valleros showed up to the station requesting to speak to her privately, she knew there was no getting out of it.

that night she curled up in bed, reviewing the sensitive case files as well as her new identity, hoping that she could wrap it up in a couple of months.

––––

the taxi dropped her off at the seedy motel on the outskirts of the city, just a couple blocks away from the auto shop.

she suited up in an outfit that “raine” would wear, tucking her gun into her belt, before making the trek.

the sun was low behind the old buildings, most of the strip abandoned or looted, graffiti covering nearly every inch of wall space. tents were scattered in empty lots, a handful of homeless people pushing their carts towards the tents as the last slivers of light dissipated.

all she knew about the area was that a man popped up a couple months prior, bought almost every plot, and set up shop.

he clearly bought the dying businesses so they would stay out of his way.

she’d memorized every inch of her file, committing her persona to memory as well as any details about this crew, which were surprisingly next to none.

mayor valleros couldn’t prove it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the string of robberies targeting big businesses and millionaires was somehow connected to this rinky dink shop.

the garage was halfway open, the light coming from it trickling out onto the street. the trunk of an old convertible poked out, and she could hear the bass line of a soft rock song the closer she got.

the file she’d received was nearly bare – she was walking into the situation blind. from her knowledge, they were always open to recruits, but they turned away quite a lot of people. they had a serious vetting process and didn’t trust just anyone.

she probably had little to no chance of getting in, but she was gonna do her damnedest to earn their trust.

when she approached the car, she took a slow cautious step inside, hand firmly on hip, ready to pull her gun out at a moment's notice.

a quick cock of a handgun pulled her attention south.

the man rolled to a stop from underneath the car, flat on his back against the scooter, brow quirked, the barrel of his gun pointed up at her.

“and who might you be?”

“i could be asking you the same thing,” she said, hand still on her hip.

“toss the gun over.”

she sighed, tugging it out from her waistband, squatting slowly to place it on the ground, skitting it towards him. she stood up slowly, hands in front of her in surrender.

he snatched the gun, before pushing himself up till he was standing. he slid her gun into his waistband with one hand, keeping his other trained on her.

“gimme the blade in your boot, too.”

she tried keeping her composure – she always kept a pocket knife on her but she nearly forgot it was there. how the hell did he know?

“fuck me,” she cursed under her breath. “if you insist,” he grinned, then motioned his hand towards himself.

she dug it out of her shoe, tossing it over. “how could you tell?”

“lucky guess. didn’t really know if you had one,” he shrugged, pocketing the blade.

they stood in silence, sizing each other up. his eyes raked over her body, lingering on places she was glad she had covered in baggy clothing.

“so, you gonna tell me your name?”

“no.”

“have it your way, rando. you’re not getting past this garage unless you give me something. doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“you clearly seem bothered,” she muttered, shifting her weight to her other foot.

she probably shouldn’t have been so bold, but if he wanted to shoot her, he would’ve done it already.

“nope. i don’t have shit to do. i could do this all day,” he raised a single brow, the one with a slit shaved into it.

“raine,” she said, the one syllable begrudgingly making it past her lips.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he cocked his head to the side.

“you’re not that smart if you think that’s anything more than my street name.”

“street name? what are you, a fed?” He laughed, motioning the barrel of the gun upwards. “show me your waist and back.” “didn’t know ty hired perverts as door greeters,” she rolled her eyes, tugging her shirt upwards, slowly rotating to show off her stomach and lower back, proving she wasn’t wearing a wire.

his brows furrowed as a loud, booming cackle sounded from the doorway.

“you’re just gonna let her talk to you like that, mal?” the tall woman laughed, crossing her arms when she came into view.

“why’d you just say my name like that? i had a whole thing going,” he all but groaned, running a hand over his face.

“eh, who gives a shit. not like she’s in a position to do much, anyway,” she shrugged, her biceps flexing with the motion. “plus, she clearly knows who ty is. she didn’t just waltz in here – armed, might i add – for nothing.”

“who sent you, raine?”

yana shook her head, already slipping into the new, abrasive personality, scrunching her face up in disgust. “i’m not telling you two bozos shit. bring me to ty.”

the woman closed the gap between them in a couple steps, towering over her. she was easily six foot (even taller if you counted the locs piled atop her head), tattoos riddling every exposed inch of her body, her menacing grin gleaming in the dim light. her hands fisted the fabric at yana’s neck, tugging her just high enough that the tips of her shoes brushed the concrete.

she leaned in, quirking a pierced brow. “bozos?”

yana’s resolve was weakening with every second she was dangled by the tall woman. mustering up the last bit of her strength, she furrowed her brows and looked her dead in the eye.

“yeah. you heard me. bozos.”

the woman howled with laughter, and set her down, tousling her hair. “i like this one. she’s fiery.”

“of course you would. you like ‘em when they talk back,” mal chuckled, lowering the barrel.

she sucked her teeth, shrugging. “the harder to tame, the better.”

“i’m not here for either of you.”

“raine, was it?” she ignored the dig, holding her hand out to yana instead. “immy. i’m kind of the brawn around here if you haven’t noticed.”

immy jabbed her thumb at mal, smirking. “he’s not the brains of the operation. don’t worry about that.”

“hey!” he said, holstering his gun. “you’re really gonna disrespect me like that in front of some rando?”

“damn right i will. right this way, raine,” immy said, offering her arm. yana eyed it, forcing a grimace.

“i highly suggest you take my arm so i don’t have to restrain you.”

yana laced her arm through immy’s, her taut muscle telling her everything she needed to know – she could not fight her way out of this one.

they weaved through the shop, making their way down a dim hallway towards a back room. the decor was modest, much like a bar you’d see on the edge of town where the patrons are always the same and everyone minds their business.

mal walked in front of them, approaching the big wooden door, rapping his knuckles on it a few times.

she was so wrapped in the adrenaline rush of it all that she hadn’t really noticed quite how attractive mal was. she’d dealt with attractive criminals before, but none that were as infuriating and arrogant as him. most of them minded their business and didn’t let those feelings surface, even if it was in a joking manner.

she guessed she was staring a bit too long – when she met his eyes, he winked.

“ayo, someone’s here to see you,” he yelled, leaning his hip against the door frame with a smirk.

“come in.”

“wow, bossman didn’t even hesitate,” immy said, seemingly impressed.

“maybe he knew she was coming,” mal mused before pushing the door open.

the room was large, the bookshelves lining the walls filled left to right, top to bottom with books. the black leather couches looked straight out of a casting call room, much to her distaste.

his desk was massive, seemingly a bit out of place with the rest of the more toned down decorations – long, polished mahogany with intricate carvings up and down the sides.

his posture was perfect, his fingers laced in a neutral pose. as they approached the seats facing his desk, he pushed his book to the side, slipping his glasses off and placing them on top of the cover.

“i’m assuming someone sent you,” he stated, rather than asked, expression unreadable.

“no one sent me. i don’t have a crew,” yana answered, trying to keep as calm as him.

“someone must have told you about our operation.”

“well, you’re not infamous by any means, but people are definitely talking,” she shrugged.

he stood, taking slow steps until he was at the front of the desk. he glanced at immy, then the chair, and before yana knew it, she was shoved down into a sitting position.

she tried to remain nonchalant as he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms neatly folded.

“so what do you think you know about us?” he asked with a small smile, bright blue eyes piercing.

“i know you’re ty, the head of the group. i don’t know much else,” she was being completely truthful with him, glad to drop the facade (albeit briefly).

he nodded. “that’s good. we want as little information out there as possible.”

he leaned down, long strands of hair falling in front of his shoulders, holding her gaze.

yana wasn’t one to squirm under pressure, but the way he was looking right through her, as if he was browsing the core of her being, she couldn’t help but ball her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“what’s your name?”

“raine,” she murmured, struggling to keep her face neutral.

his eyes subtly flitted around her face, probably trying to pick up on her microexpressions – she’d been trained in the art of facial expressions and lying, so she was thankful in that moment that she’d actually paid attention to the presentations.

he leaned back, looking at mal and immy. “she’s trustworthy.”

just like that? she kept her breathing even, trying not to visibly relax. she expected it’d be a bit harder than that.

“so, raine. what exactly do you want to do here?” he asked, walking around the desk to sit back in his seat.

“last time i worked with a crew, they cheated me out of most of my cut.”

ty nodded, eyes focusing in on her face again.

“i’m not here to make friends. i just want to make enough money to stay afloat,” she said bluntly, letting a bit of the truth shine through again.

he nodded again, putting his glasses back on, flipping through the book.

“we all pull our own weight here. we’re all expected to defend ourselves in any situation we’re in,” he said, voice low, scrawling notes in the margins of the book.

“can you shoot a gun?”

“yes.”

“can you wield a knife?”

“yes.”

“hand to hand combat?”

“yes.”

most of the training was because of the academy, but she’d been a scrappy teen – she’d got into plenty of fights and had always been able to hold her own.

mal plopped onto the seat next to her, leg strewn across the armrest, popping a stick of gum in his mouth. “she’s gonna need a little bit of training. immy and i got her.”

ty arched a brow at mal, seemingly in slight annoyance. “training?”

“oh yeah, she strolled in here with a gun and a knife and i took her out before she could cock it,” he laughed, shooting a wink her way.

immy laughed, too, but ty wasn’t nearly as amused. “she’ll need to be at Mal’s skill level at least by our next phase.”

“‘mal’s skill level’? what the hell does that mean?” mal asked, sitting up straight.

immy’s soft chuckles morphed into her friendly booming cackle that yana had been introduced to a couple minutes before.

“you’re clearly weaker than immy. no one’s touching her,” ty said simply, delving back into his work.

mal sighed, standing. “cut me some slack, boss. not my fault she’s taller and buffer than me.”

“yes, you should blame genetics.”

yana found herself rolling her lips together, failing to back a smile. ty caught her eye and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

for just a second, she felt comfortable with them, but she had to bury that thought and keep at the task at hand.

they were criminals, this was an investigation. no attachment, no complications.

“when nia gets here, ask her to go shopping for raine,” ty said, then resumed his work.

“you got it, boss,” immy said, pulling yana to her feet, leading her to the bookcase across the room.

she pulled a book back, revealing a keypad. she typed a long string of numbers and popped her thumb on the screen at the bottom, stepping back so that the bookcase could shift. a set of stairs appeared, leading downwards, most likely towards a basement of some sort.

“are you guys gonna kidnap me or something?”

immy grinned. “nope. all the good stuff is down here.”

the concrete staircase led to a long hallway, multiple doors on either side. “your room is the last one on the left, right after the gym.”

“gym?” “yeah, you think i could upkeep these guns without a routine?” immy joked, walking with her to the end of the hallway.

her room was surprisingly big. king sized bed, walk in closet, huge bathroom with a separate shower and tub – it was larger than her apartment.

“i’ll leave you to it,” she said, pointing towards the dresser against the wall. “there’s some spare clothes in there.”

and then she was alone.

the shower she took was quick – she even stuck a chair under the door handle just in case. she didn’t trust anyone here enough to take a long shower.

she tossed on the clothes, wrapping her long dark hair up in a towel. right about then she’d wished she’d planned things out a bit better. all of her case materials were back at the motel, and she desperately wanted to update the case files with what she’d learned.

ty, mal, immy, nia. ty, mal, immy, nia. she committed the names to memory, and the appearances of the former three, too.

a knock at the door took her out of her train of thought.

she answered it, surprised to see mal standing there in a loose fitting floral top, way different than the hoodie he’d worn when she first met him.

“here,” he said, handing her the gun and blade. “forgot to return these in the excitement of it all.”

“thanks,” she said, turning to put both on the side table near the door, leaving mal standing there.

“you gonna invite me in?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

she shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he strode in, plopping on the edge of her bed, legs sprawled wide while he leaned back on his elbows.

“so… raine. ready for training?”

“yep.”

“not talking much? understandable. i should probably introduce myself, though. properly.”

she eyed him, crossing her arms.

“i’m mal. i own all of this,” he said, gesturing around him. “volari’s the last name. well, the last name i picked.”

she nodded, knowing that she couldn’t reveal any personal information unless directly asked, trying to calculate out how to skirt around questions without being suspicious.

“the shop’s a front. kind of our homebase, ya know?” he popped his gum, gaze flitting up and down from her loose fitting clothes to her face.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“just trying to figure you out, raine,” he emphasized her fake name, a knowing grin spreading.

yana rolled her eyes, crossing the room to the mirror, tugging the towel off her hair. “there’s nothing to figure out.”

“yeah, sure,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone. “meet me in the gym tomorrow at 5 a.m.”

“that’s super early,” she said, watching him through the mirror as she raked her damp hair into a bun.

“we’ve gotta fit in your first training before we open shop,” mal winked, standing up from the bed.

“oh.”

“‘night,” he said, giving a lazy salute, before tugging the door shut with the toe of his shoe, leaving her standing alone.

––––

she barely slept that night, unable to stop the unending rolodex of details flitting through her mind.

names, height, build, tattoos, notable scars, voice – anything that she’d recognize regardless of a bad dye job or style change.

she gave up after a while, getting up when the clock said 3 a.m. slipping her blade into her waistband, she headed to the gym, hoping that she could cardio her way into a short nap.

the gym was immaculate – top notch equipment neatly lined the walls with more than enough space throughout for a group of five.

after scanning the room, she opted for a treadmill, deciding that sprints were the best way to tire out both her body and mind.

each pump of her legs was more painful than the last, the aching burn flickering up her legs with every slam of her shoe against the belt.

keep going, keep going, keep going.

yana didn’t give up. never was a quitter, never would be a quitter.

sweat beaded across her back and forehead, her breathing in tandem with her strides.

when she crossed the mile line, she slowed her pace, opting for a light jog for as long as she could handle it (another mile or two).

the sound of a singular shoe squeaking had her grasping for her knife, ready to point it at the intruder. But before she could get a grip on it, another hand snatched it from her waistband, flicking the blade out, training the tip at the base of her neck.

mal grinned at her. “not bad.”

she panted, flyaway hairs sticking to every slick patch of skin. he used the tip of the blade to delicately flick a strand off her shoulder.

“reflexes could be a bit faster, though.”

he lowered the knife, tossing her a cool towel instead.

“it’s 3 a.m. and i wasn’t expecting anyone,” she grumbled, dragging the towel down her face to sop up the sweat.

“correction: it’s 4 a.m. and you should always expect the worst.”

“why are you here so early then?” she snapped, flinging the towel over her shoulder in exasperation.

“same reason you’re here. can’t sleep,” he shrugged, before reaching behind him to tug off his white tee.

she finally got a full look at him and she wasn’t disappointed.

tanned, muscled torso, riddled with scars and tattoos alike, peppered with hair all across his front. It was really fucking hard not to stare.

she averted her eyes as he did a couple warm up stretches, leaning and stretching and looking oh so gorgeous while he did it.

his right arm was covered, a full sleeve from shoulder to wrist. the other arm was a half sleeve, his forearm bare except for a small tattoo with daggers and blood drops.

she’d noticed his gold earrings when she’d met him, since it was one of the flashiest things about him.

but the singular nipple ring? that was new. and definitely something she didn’t think would stir something in her.

she strode across the gym, trying to put some distance between them, grabbing the small weights. yana squatted and lifted and squatted and lifted but nothing she did could distract her from the soft grunts coming from mal across the room.

he was on a fucking pull up bar, tugging himself upward, hair tied back, sweat beading on his brow.

one of the biggest undercover no-no’s was getting involved with anyone while on the case. Even if they’re surrounding the case – not even a main target – it was all but forbidden.

unless… it was for intel.

get a fucking grip, dude. she shook the thought away, all but spraying herself with a hose at the thought.

“it’s about that time,” he said, a while later.

she pushed through her last few crunches, shaking off the burn as she stood up.

“i fail to see why i need to be trained. i don’t even know what we’ll be doing,” she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms.

the easiest way for her to get intel was to pretend like she didn’t care. It worked with most male egos she came across – the second she acted like she’d rather be anywhere else, the man would all but spell out his diabolical plans with a diagram and a play-by-play.

“i think you’ll at least need to know how to defend yourself. never know what situations we’ll get into,” he said, vaguely, scrubbing his own towel across his chest and torso.

unfortunately, that told her nothing.

“alright, so first thing’s first, we’ll need to roll out these mats –”

immy slammed the door open, cutting off mal’s first order.

“nia brought the grub! get in here before i eat it all,” immy said, throwing a knowing look at yana.

she looked to mal, waiting for his direction.

“go ahead. i’m gonna finish up my workout. save me a plate, alright?” he asked, striding towards the weights.

yana slipped past her and into the hallway without a second glance, trying to look anywhere but the sly grin that stretched immy’s mouth.

“so what was going on in there?” immy asked, teasing.

“nothing. just training.”

“just training. suuuure,” she said with a laugh, clapping yana on the back, knocking the wind out of her.

they trudged up the stairs to the autoshop, yana’s legs crying out with each step. she was regretting the workout in that regard, but a tiny part of her brain was revelling in the time she spent with mal, mind reeling over each physical detail of him.

they made their way to the tiny kitchen (much smaller than the one underground), greeted with a few platters of breakfast food and a smiling woman.

“hi! i hear you’re the one who took over my bedroom,” nia grinned, giving a friendly wave. “it’s so nice to meet you.”

she cocked her head to the side, making sure to make a slight spectacle of almost not trusting nia’s friendliness – had to lean into the “raine” persona, right?

nia’s smile didn’t waver as she gestured at the food. “i thought i could give you a bit of a warm welcome. it was undoubtedly nicer than theirs, huh?”

ty chuckled under his breath, stepping away from the counter with a steaming mug of coffee. “you know us too well, nia.”

immy snorted, grabbing a plate and piling up the bacon and pancakes. “thanks, chief.”

nia laughed in response, handing a plate to yana, encouraging her to eat.

it was such a weird atmosphere. the night before was pretty tense – yana was tense. she was petrified of sleeping through the night for fear of someone coming in the room and offing her.

and to be greeted with platters of food and a chill atmosphere? madness.

it made her a bit nervous considering in her experience some of the most heinous crimes were committed by tight knit crews that considered each other family. she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of shit she’d gotten herself into.

she piled her plate with fruit and oatmeal, leaning against the wall as she popped a spoonful of cinnamon oatmeal in her mouth, chasing it with a sliced apple.

“glad to finally tip the scales. i didn’t think we’d be adding anyone to the crew, but i’m so happy you’re here,” nia said, taking a sip from her mug.

“i think immy’s woman enough for the both of us,” yana shrugged, shoveling another spoonful in her mouth.

“don’t tempt me, raine. i have no issue telling you exactly what i wanna do to you,” immy lifted a brow, licking the underside of her spoon very slowly, holding her gaze.

nia nearly choked on her tea, mumbling a soft “excuse me” as she grabbed a napkin to blot her mouth.

“flustering the nun. another tick off my bucket list,” immy cackled.

“former and i was training,” nia threw a pointed look at her, locking eyes with yana right after.

“you’re here with us now. that’s all that matters,” ty said, with a bit of finality, hushing the rest of the conversation.

mal burst into the room, drenched in sweat and half naked. “pancakes? oh fuck yeah. thanks nia.”

he piled the food on his plate, plopping down on the barstool at the counter. he glanced back at yana, then patted the seat next to him with a smirk. “i don’t bite.”

she rolled her eyes, rigid stance betraying the fluttering in her chest. she slid in next to him and ate silently, eyes trained on her food.

“so, boss, what’s on the agenda for today?” mal asked through a mouthful of food.

ty stared at him in disgust, setting his mug down to address the room. “we have a lot of planning to do. these next few jobs have to be absolutely seamless if we want to evade law enforcement.”

“what, you’re saying that the pigs caught wind of us?” immy asked, annoyance lacing her tone.

“no, not to my knowledge,” ty shook his head, a single wrinkle appearing between his thick brows. “but we won’t be able to keep this up for long.”

he strode over to the spread of food, grabbing a single grape, tossing it into his mouth. “each his has to count. there’s absolutely no room for mistakes.”

everyone nodded in agreeance.

“mal and immy, you’re with me. we’ll be planning escape routes, seeing if they match up with our physical map, scouting the areas – the grueling work. nia,” he said, glancing down at her. “you’ll take raine shopping. she’ll need a dress for the gala.”

he trained his gaze on yana, gaze penetrating right through her. she held her breath, hoping that nothing about the way she ate, sat, breathed tipped him off –

“get her a wig, too.”

––––

a power nap and a couple hours later, yana and nia were in nia’s car, driving towards the center of the city to the mall.

“i’ve never been to a gala before,” yana murmured honestly, watching the storefronts pass by, gradually getting more and more expensive.

“once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all,” nia shrugged, flicking her blinker before turning into the parking garage.

shopping was fairly painless. nia took her to her favorite store, forced her to try on a handful of dresses, and thankfully the second one fit (and was both of their favorites).

“this is too much,” yana said bluntly, trying to mask her eagerness to wear the floor length gown.

“no it’s perfect. you’ll fit in seamlessly,” she said, swiping her card. the cashier handed her the plastic covered gown, and they were out again.

“i have a few wigs back in my room that you can try on. i’m thinking a short blonde bob for you,” nia said, reaching out to gently push yana’s long dark strands over her shoulder.

nia was beautiful. her long red curls soaked up the sun and reflected the gold – she was clearly the best of them all with a heart big enough for everyone and then some.

her eyes were soft, smile even softer, with curves even softer than that.

there was something about nia that felt like home. yana brushed the thought away, redirecting her mind to the event.

“what am i supposed to do at the gala?”

“schmooze some rich people, make them think you’re high society, gain their trust, all of that,” she said simply, unlocking the car.

–––

after a quick wig fitting, nia flipped a hand mirror yana’s way, grinning widely. “you look gorgeous.”

“oh... that’s different.”

nia frowned. “different as in bad?”

“no, not bad,” she said, running her hand through the short blunt bob that didn’t even graze her shoulders. “just different. i’ve never been a blonde.”

“oh, you’ll be alright,” she reassured her, grabbing a mannequin head with a long blonde wig on it, pre-styled with curls and braids galore. “there’s always a first time for everything!”

when they emerged from their room, ready to head to the event in an unknown location (which made yana insanely nervous), the rest of the crew were neck deep in planning, mumbling amongst themselves.

“we’re out! be back in a few hours,” nia waved without a second glance, jingling the car keys as she went.

the three of them looked stunned when they laid eyes on yana. immy’s mouth upturned into a smirk and mal’s scarred eyebrow lifted – even ty looked a bit taken aback.

“you clean up well, raine,” immy nodded, gesturing to her gown.

“thanks,” she said, a bit uncomfortably.

as yana, she was flattered; as raine, she was bothered.

“uh, well, i’ll be back soon. bye.”

“wait,” mal called as she turned her back. “here.”

he slipped a blade and a thin leather strap into her hand, gently closing her fingers around it. “just in case.”

“is this –” she stopped, looking at the buckle and pouch. a thigh strap for the blade.

“yup. stay safe, raine,” he winked, returning to the table, which was covered in maps and loose papers.

–––

the gala was pretty boring.

maybe it was because she wasn’t exactly sure why she was there quite yet, so she couldn’t properly gather intel, but either way the attendees were bland.

nia blabbed on and on about mundane things with the men, laughing, twirling her hair, and gently resting a hand on a shoulder at the right time.

they were putty in her hands.

yana on the other hand was as charming as she could manage, trying to coax information out of the men who were two seconds away from getting handsy.

an hour and a half in, nia took the stage, which surprised her.

what shocked her even more was the fact that the gala was for charity. specifically nia’s charity.

she commanded the stage like she belonged there, and by the end of her speech about taking care of the people of their city, every socialite was scrambling to add an extra zero to their checks.

“this is your event? for your charity?” she whispered in nia’s ear between shaking hands and thanking the patrons.

“yeah! i’ll tell you more about it on the way back,” she said offhandedly, before leaning in to hug a woman covered in decadent jewels.

when they made it to the car, nia spilled immediately.

“so, i’m the face of the charity by day. it’s fairly new and pretty small,” nia started, keeping her eyes on the road.

“and you failed to mention your connection to it because…?”

“the crew thought i should wait to tell you.”

“i feel like i don’t have all of the pieces here, though.”

she sighed. “you don’t.”

yana raised a brow.

“i’m a former novitiate. a nun in training, if you will. i trained at a large church in the heart of the city, and my dream was to eventually head an orphanage and lead troubled youth to christ.”

“what changed?” she asked cautiously.

“my eyes were open to the corruption of the church before it was too late, thankfully. i couldn’t handle the greediness. it felt like every decision was driven by profit, not spirituality. their numbers were dollar amounts, not souls saved,” nia sighed, slowing to a stop at the red light, tugging the wig off her head. “each case was hand chosen for potential monetary gain. nothing was genuine.

“after leaving the church, i created the charity specifically to take care of homeless citizens, since we have a huge population of them. we’re focused on small victories like proper kitchens and distributing survival kits right now, but we’re working towards bigger things.”

“so… why was i involved tonight?” yana asked earnestly.

“because you’re a new face. a pretty face. virtually undetectable to these people. i can’t do all of it on my own, you know,” she smiled.

“so what does this have to do with the crew?”

“i’ll let them explain that to you,” nia said simply, ending the conversation.

––––

when they entered ty’s office, the rest of the crew were there, sitting around, drinking and chatting.

“there’re the pretty ladies,” immy slurred from her seat, holding up her nearly empty mug of beer.

“any news?” ty asked after taking a small sip of what looked like scotch.

“raine did awesome, just as i suspected,” nia beamed, throwing her arm around yana’s waist.

“that’s what i love to hear,” mal said from the seat next to immy, winking when yana caught his eye.

“i told her a bit about the gala, and my charity, but i thought i’d wait till we were all together to explain further.”

ty nodded. “that was the right move.”

“i’m all ears,” yana said, slipping into the open seat next to immy.

“you ladies earned a drink. let me grab you one before we get started. beer okay?” mal asked, jogging out the door towards the kitchen.

“beer’s fine,” yana called, slipping her heels off and rubbing her aching feet.

as soon as they both had their drinks, ty addressed her, launching into a full explanation.

“nia’s our best judge of character. i’d apologize that you weren’t kept in the loop until now, but you know how these things work. we can’t compromise the mission,” he said, stepping up from his desk to pace.

“nia is also our decoy, if you will. she’s the one who draws in the potential targets so we can gather information and plan. the rest of us are… not quite on good terms with the law,” he said, pausing his stride to look at yana.

immy laughed, throwing back the last of her beer. “you can say that again.”

“what’d you do?” yana asked, eyes darting between mal and ty.

“well, i’ve just done a lot of dirty work for people,” immy sighed, wincing. “and it backfired.”

“i’ll refrain from speaking about personal matters,” ty said, a hint of pain in his gaze.

“unlike the boss, i don’t mind telling you. i can’t remember a time where i wasn’t pissing off some cop. the list is endless,” mal grinned.

“you can’t just ask us and then not tell us what you’ve done,” immy complained, sliding her mug onto ty’s desk, quickly grabbing a coaster when ty’s gaze turned sharp.

yana shrugged. “i don’t know. i’ve always been a bit of a problem.”

it was true. growing up in foster care toughened her up pretty early. protecting her brother from bullies kept her in trouble.

they were never formally adopted, but they spent so much time in the same foster homes over time that kade just became her brother.

she got into the normal scrappy kid problems, stopping eventually when she’d racked up enough petty misdemeanors to potentially get time.

instead, she begrudgingly joined the force. she never liked being a cop, but she loved detective work.

it wasn’t her dream job, but it was the job that let her be whoever she wanted to be. yeah, sometimes she hated slipping into a different identity every couple of months (or years), but she couldn’t picture herself doing anything else. at least right then she couldn’t, as she sat amongst a crew that she’d infiltrated with no issue – she was playing them like a fiddle, and they had no clue.

“good thing we like to fix problems here,” mal said, eyeing her as he tipped his drink back.

nia laughed nervously, gripping her bottle tight. “okay, can we continue? please?”

“thank you, nia, as always, for keeping us on track,” ty said, nodding her way. “our operation is one that some would consider the… vigilante sort.”

“as in, you’re taking matters into your own hands?”

ty nodded again. “we’ve all experienced corruption in the city at different levels, and we’ve grown tired of sitting idly by while nothing gets done by the same officials who get reelected term after term while having no record of accomplishments.”

“and you think i’m a good fit here?” she didn’t know why she blurted that question out. it’s like every time she was on thin ice she ventured farther and farther, begging for it to crack.

“i saw it in your eyes, raine. you want to help people,” he said, holding her gaze. “this – our operation – can be how you do that.”

“i still don’t know what i’m getting myself into. i can’t decide anything without knowing,” she said, honest again.

“you’re going to have to decide.” his voice was firm, unwavering. he knew exactly what he was doing – every step of the past twenty four hours was a test, each interaction with each member converging to this moment.

she looked to each person in the room, from immy’s bright gaze, to nia’s warm inviting eyes, to mal’s sultry stare, to ty’s – his icy blue eyes were piercing. like the first time she met him, he was staring right through her as if he could see the essence of her being if he searched hard enough.

“i’m in.”

––––

#playchoices #bladesaw #mal volari #mal volari x mc #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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redisriding · 4 years

Text

The Right Swipe - Chapter Five

A Court of Thorns and Roses Modern AU Fanfic

All character’s belong to the wonderful Sarah J Maas.

Tag List: @superspiritfestival @duskandstarlight @perseusannabeth @courtofjurdan @omg-aelin @keshavomit @rainbowcheetah512

Azriel’s hands trembled as he punched the numbers into his phone. He had said he would call at this time. His promise, more to himself than her, the only thing holding him to actually going through with the call. Two hours ago he had told Cassian he was coming down with a migraine and had retired to his room. He had lay on his bed, as darkness slowly consumed the room, counting down the time until the call. Thinking up excuses to get him out of calling. Only to talk himself out of the excuses and into going through with it.

There was one thing that Azriel wanted more than anything and that was to be in love. He often wondered that if the lie, the illusion of love he had lived for ten years had felt that good then what would the real thing feel like? When someone you loved, loved you back in the way they were meant to.

There was a part of Azriel that thought he wasn’t worthy of such things, that there was nothing especially appealing about him that would make someone fall in love with him, the real him, not the fame and not the money.

But another part of him, the logical part, knew that everyone was deserving of love. That everyone would find their person when the time was right. That included him.

He also knew, however, that if he wanted to find his person, or let them find him, he needed to put himself out there and not cloister himself away in his apartment. No matter how safe he felt.

So, hands shaking, heart hammering, Azriel pressed the call button and placed his phone to his ear.

Time seemed to slow. The ringing in his ear going on forever.

In reality however, she picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” She answered.

Adrenaline spiked through Azriel. For all of his anxiety about making the phone call, he hadn’t actually thought through what he would say when she picked up. Maybe he hadn’t really believed that she would.

He felt sweat prick on his lip, his heart now pounding so hard it threatened to break free of the cage that were his ribs.

They had called to have a conversation, to get to know each other better than they could over messages, and yet every single thought emptied from Azriel’s head. What on earth did he say to her?

“Hello?” She repeated.

Say something Azriel he screamed at himself.

“Ugh…hi.”

Smooth.

“Azriel?”

He closed his eyes. Her voice was light and airy. Soft. Kind. His name sounded nice falling from her mouth.

“Yeah…Elain?”

“Yes! Hi!”

“Hi.”

Silence descended between them again. Azriel desperately tried to think of something to say. To try and remember something from their Swipe conversations, and still he was drawing a blank.

“This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?” Elain giggled.

The sound was so light and infectious that Azriel couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Just a bit…I, ugh, don’t really know that to say.”

“Me neither.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Called some random woman from Swipe?”

“Ugh…talked to someone I don’t know on the phone.”

“No one?”

“At all.”

“What about when you order pizza?”

“I use an app.”

“What about when you have to call a plumper or your bank?”

“I have people for that.”

Elain laughed again “Ooooh okay Mr Bigshot? What do you mean you have people for that?”

“Ugh…well…I have an agent who looks after my affairs.”

“Oh wow, you really are a big shot.”

“No, not really.”

“So, are you some sort of Ward of the State?”

It was Azriel’s turn to laugh. “No, I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own affairs…I just don’t.”

Silence fell between them again, but there was less panic coursing through Azriel now.

“Azriel,” Elain whispered after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to video call?”

“Eh—.”

“So we can actually see each other’s faces, it might be a bit…less weird?”

Azriel paused for a moment, considering. Actually, maybe it would be easier if he could see her face, read her expressions. “Yeah okay.”

“Okay. I’ll call you right back.”

“Okay.

“Okay.”

There was another pause, and Azriel was sure he heard Elain take a deep breath before the line went dead.

He pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it. His world somehow seemed greyer after speaking to Elain than it had before. Like she was the colour and light he was missing.

In an eruption of light, startling Azriel and causing his just settled heart to again pick up its hammering, his phone displayed and incoming call from a number he presumed belonged to Elain.

He punched the accept button. “Hey!”

Elain’s face filled the screen.

Azriel’s pounding heart skipped for a second.

She was stunning.

Soft brown-blonde hair fell in waves framing her heart shaped face. Her eyes were big and brown, doe-like. With high cheekbones and soft pouty lips her beauty was soft, adorable.

Azriel felt the binds he chained around his heart loosen.

“Oooh,” she squeaked, “You’re in the dark?”

“Oh sorry,” he said as he stumbled from his bed, to try and find the light switch.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you not want me to see your face?”

“Ugh—.”

“Because your profile pictures seem purposefully obscured. You suggested calling rather than meeting up at first. You hesitated when I asked if you want to video call. Now your room is dark?”

“No, I—.”

“If there is something wrong with your face, if you have scarring or something, I don’t—.”

Azriel’s fingers found the switch, light illuminating the room. He grinned at Elain’s sweet face twisted in a frown, her expression then turning to one of surprise.

“Oh!” She whispered, “Very beautiful.”

Azriel only grinned wider as she caught herself, even on the screen he could see the pink blush that flooded her cheeks.

“I mean,” she stumbled over her words, “Not beautiful, just that…well…eh…not that it's not beautiful, just that…there’s nothing wrong with—.”

“Elain?”

“I just mean that I don’t see why you would hide your face,” she finally exclaimed.

“Thank you,” he said, chuckling at how flustered she had become.

“Why did you hide your face?”

“Oh eh…”Azriel hesitated.

Elain didn’t appear to recognise him. He didn’t want her impression of him to change if she knew what he did for a living.

Then again, hadn’t he lectured Cassian only yesterday about how it was important to be his authentic self. And wasn’t Cassian, not having taken his advice on board, now sitting on Azriel’s couch watching endless reality TV and eating chocolate?

“Yeah, I didn’t want to make myself too easily recognisable just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“So…I don’t really know how to say this without sounding pretentious so I’m just going to say it.”

“Okay?” There was a lightness to Elain’s voice, like she was laughing.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Eh…aside from the guy I matched with on Swipe, no. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Good! That ugh…makes a change. See Elain, a lot of people in this town know me…I…do you like hockey?”

“Hockey?”

“Yeah.”

“Not especially.”

“So you don’t follow the Velaris Black Wings?”

“No.”

“Oh…well…I joined the team this season. It was kind of a big signing, publicity-wise.”

“Oh my gods!” Elain exclaimed.

Azriel felt his stomach drop. This was going to go either one of two ways and both were bad for him. One, she was going to be wooed by his money and fame. To want to get close to him because of that. Not give a damn about him as a person. The second option, was that she would want nothing to do with him, because of the money and the fame. Not to be able to see past those things to the person he was.

He held his breath waiting for Elain to say something further. To reveal which of the two she was.

“You’re such a liar.”

His heart sank.

Gods this was impossible.

Maybe he should give up on the whole dating thing until he was retired and happily back hiding in the Illyrian mountains. Although from Cassian’s reports, there wasn’t much hope there either.

“Elain—.”

“You are a Mr Bigshot!”

Azriel paused, the breath leaving him in a sudden rush. She was neither enamoured or repulsed…she was joking with him?

He smiled at her shyly through the screen.

“I can totally see, why you would want to keep your identity private,” she continued.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to attract a lot of attention if I can avoid it.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence. An easy one this time, as they smiled at each other.

It was Azriel who broke it, “Nice plant.”

“Oh this?” Elain moved to look at the leafy thing that was sprawling behind her shoulder. “Thanks, I’m nursing it back to health.”

“Forget to water it?”

“No, I found it in my sister’s coffee shop, dying. I asked her to smuggle it out for me so I could save it.”

Azriel chuckled, those chains around his heart slackening once more. “You like plants?”

“I love to grow things. To see little seedlings emerge from the soil, so brave, to grow into trees big and tall, or flowers bright and beautiful,” she shrugged blushing slightly, “It’s nice.”

“Maybe I should get some plants to liven up my apartment, it’s pretty grey…minimalist apparently.”

“Oh you absolutely should!”

And with that Elain launched into a discussion about which plants did best in what environments and which ones might suit his apartment best.

Azriel leaned back on his bed, head against the pillow, content to listen to her talk for hours.

#The right swipe #acotar fanfiction

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generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

Chaaj'miit

Chaaj'miit: broadcast, message

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: mentions of death/almost dying

Word count: ~1.4K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: A Mandalorian is sick of Dagobah

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. Don't hate me for the hiatus! My SIL graduated, and I was celebrating her/driving across the country lol. I'm working to get caught up, so MandoMay might bleed into Jedi June (idk if that's a thing, but it'd be a pretty good theme if it was) Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Ad'ika | Mirshmure’cya

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

“Leia has sent a chaaj’miit.” Luke told you from the doorway, arms crossed and a frown firmly in place.

“I’m fine, Luke. I’m completely healed. Not even a scar to show for it.” Your attempted joke fell flat at his feet. In the two weeks you’d been under his care, Luke had been angry. It radiated off of him, rolled in harsh waves from his very center. You knew he was trying to assuage it, and you knew he was meditating more and more to recenter. He had been adamant that he had to find a balance, but you knew that every time you winced the anger resurged.

“You should get some food, and I will give you the message.” He told you with a small shake of his head, before turning and leaving the hut. You had learned, piece by piece, that Luke wasn’t angry at Din, he was angry at you. He found your actions dense, and when he had heard your reasoning he had lost it.

You were surprised that he was so mad at you. You had told Din as much, but he had waved Skywalker’s emotions off.

“They run hot.” Was all Din had offered about the Skywalkers, which left more questions than answers. But Din, too, was treating you differently. Gone were the rough actions of the warrior, gone was the gruffness of his voice. He had treated you like a rare porcelain since you had woken up. He had refused to touch you at all, at first. You knew he was scared, you had felt his trembling hands skate across your skin, before he decided on a soft touch to your cheek.

Even Grogu treated you like you’d break apart if he touched you too hard, or blow away in the breeze if he wasn’t looking at you.

You were going crazy. You were a mandalorian. You were strong and resilient. You didn’t need those closest to you acting like you were anything but. You had worried Din about it, snapping when he refused to kiss you one night.

“I’m not fragile.” You had murmured, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“You almost died, cyare. I can be soft with you while you heal.” You groaned at him, but didn’t push it. You knew he was right. You knew he felt guilty.

Still, you wanted someone to be rough with you. When Luke told you about Leia’s message you knew that it was time. Time to get back out there and back into the fight. Your companions had other ideas, though.

Sitting next to Grogu on a log, you dug into the stew, and asked Luke what Leia had said.

“She has new coordinates for us.” Luke told his stew, not meeting your eyes.

“That’s good news.” You told him, encouraging him to finish the message. You glanced at Din, but he kept his dark eyes on his bowl. You scoffed. “We aren’t going.” Luke shot his eyes to yours and shook his head. You looked back to Din, and found his eyes already searching yours. You pleaded with them the best you could. Praying that those molten caf eyes saw something to change his mind.

You had to get off of Dagobah. You needed to punch something. You wanted to feel powerful.

A simple back and forth dashed your hope. You contained the tantrum you felt brewing. Your first instinct was to launch your dinner at Luke or Din or the fire or something, and then started hitting until someone took you to space. You didn’t do that. You were at the mercy of the men you had come to love, in different ways but love nonetheless. You knew they wanted to protect you, but you were now more than a month behind. You had taken another week of bed rest, more for Din’s sake than anything, and two weeks of taking it easy on the swamp planet. Longer than you would have given yourself. Longer than Din would have given himself.

“It’s for you.” Din told you quietly, the crackling of the fire nearly drowning him out. You scoffed again. Luke cleared his throat.

“Din and I could go, if that would help you?” He suggested, and you felt your blood boil.

“I’m fine. Better even, than I was before. We took sometime to rest, and now I’m ready to leave.”

“You almost d--” You cut Din off with a laugh, a sharp barking thing.

“I almost died because of bad intel and bad company.” You spat at him, and he recoiled just as you had hoped he would. “That’s right. I almost died because of you, Din. You can’t keep me here out of guilt.” You whirled to Luke, venom dripping in your tone and you had to keep from baring your teeth to him. “And you, what’s your problem? I’m not your pet. I’m a mandalorian, I don’t need to be babysat by a jedi.” You stood and stomped off before the men were done reeling.

You regretted everything you said before you lost the heat of the fire. As you stepped into the cold, dark air of the swamp, you squeezed your eyes shut.

That was properly shitty. That voice told you, snaking its way into your gut and squeezing tight. Even for you. It snarled, the words catching like chipped metal against your frayed nerves. You felt rawer than you ever had. Your heart hurt, and you knew that it was because of how you had hurt them. Your friends, your lover. Why had you done that? Because you were tired of them doting on you? Because you were tired of them caring about you? Because you wanted to rush headlong back to the fight?

The truth was, you were tired. You didn’t mind the break. You had grown weary of Luke’s disapproval. You had grown feral with the need for Din to touch you. You had missed Grogu yanking your hair and scratching your arms. You had missed the jolt of adrenaline during battle. But nothing so bad that you needed to hurt those close to you.

You wanted to turn around and apologize to them. You wanted to, but stubbornness and pride kept you from turning around.

You stood in the dark, and in the quiet, until another set of footsteps approached. The gait told you it was Din, and you held your breath as he came to a stop behind you.

You hadn’t meant that it was his fault. Not really. You knew he was fighting something darker, something he wouldn’t let you in on. You didn’t blame him, though. You also didn’t know how to tell him that.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” He told you quietly, his voice a low rasp. You turned to face him, and hadn’t prepared well enough. The look on his face was a punch to your stomach. He looked dejected. He looked like he wanted to walk into the swamp and never return. Your fingers twitched to smooth his brow, or squeeze his hand, or anything other than hang beside you limp and useless.

“Din, I-” He held up a hand, the skin paler than usual under the moonlight.

“Don’t.” He told you softly, and you could have wept.

Why were you so hateful? Why had you said those things born of frustration like they were true? Why had you thrown his kindness back into his face?

You followed Din back to the ship, and noticed the fire had been hastily kicked out, and Luke was gone. You tried to stop your heart from breaking, assuring yourself that you deserved worse for your little outburst. Regardless, of your efforts, you felt it break. The schisms and cracks opening wider, letting more darkness in, and as you trudged up the ramp of the Crest, you hoped that Din had gotten the coordinates from Luke.

Tagged: @charlispersonallyhell @magikfanatic

#the mandalorian #mandomay2021 #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #mando x female reader #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #Din Djarin x you #grogu #din x grogu #leia organa

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cole-winchester · 3 years

Text

18 Miles Out...No Going Back

Reader rescues an injured Shane after Rick, taking Randal in tow, leaves him for dead at the walker infested DPW lot. Will two broken souls be able to join forces and survive this new world? Or will they butt heads and drive each other apart?

Tags:

@hanaissupergirl @coffee-obsessed-writer @spnhollis @harrysthiccthighss @sourwolf-sterek32 @superdeadwalker @mcuwomxn @miss-cap21 @hannuhbuhnana @stormy-weather-in-classics @hellosassymcsasserton @samanthawells89 @mannls @thanossexual

Part Two

Shane grunted and tried to brace himself against the passenger door as your truck balanced out of the fishtail.

After a few moments you eased up on the accelerator. Realizing Shane was staring at you, you glanced over. Blood glistened from his brow and bridge of his nose. His gaze hard and wary but your eyes flicked towards his torso. His breathing was heavy, painful. His left arm cradled across his ribs, blood seeping from behind his hand.

Must've been stabbed, walkers didn't get close enough to him.

A sun glint caught your attention and your gaze landed on the handgun he had trained on you in his lap.

You raised your eyebrows as you looked up from the gun. 'Really?'

'Turn the truck around.' His voice was low but authoritative.

'What?'

'Have to go back.'

You let out a sharp laugh shaking your head. 'Not happenin'

'Stop the damn truck!' His voice barked inside the cab.

Gripping the wheel you slammed the brake pedal to the floor. Shane braced himself against the dashboard, glaring at you as you turned in your seat to face him as the truck rocked to a stop.

'Go back to what exactly? Your 'friend' that basically killed you back there by leaving you as walker bait?'

His jaw hardened as he glanced away from you out the windshield. 's'not like that.'

'Yeah? Why don't you enlighten me then!'

'The hell with this!' He seethed as he jerked open the passenger door and stumbled to the pavement.

Let him go, he obviously has a death wish. You don't need him.

No...you weren't that type of person.

'Ugh!' You followed after him. 'Hey! Dumbass!' You called out to the stumbling moron a couple yards away. 'Just how far you expect to get bleeding all over the place?!'

'I ain't yer problem, sweetheart!' His steps began to slow, the sun, heat and his wounds taking their toll as his adrenaline waned. He shook his head and pressed on.

'Alright, I get it, you're a big macho dick. Now get back in the truck before-'

As if on queue, he stumbled and collapsed to the pavement.

'-that.' You sighed and jogged up to his lifeless form and rolled him to his back.

Still breathing.

An unmistakable snarl came from behind you, causing your heart to leap to your throat.

You spun to your left and sure enough, a walker about 20 feet away was heading straight for you.

'Shit shit shit!' You scrambled around Shane, lifting his shoulders enough for you to lock your arms around the front of his chest. Willing the adrenaline to pump faster you began dragging him back towards the truck. 'Please wake up. Please wake up.'

Just leave him! Save yourself!

You stole a glance up at the walker only to find 3 more joining in behind it.

'Fuck!'

Panic began to creap into you. You didn't have a knife on you and your only firearm was the rifle currently in the bed of your truck.

You cried out in frustration as you continued to haul the both of you backwards. You looked over your shoulder at your truck... ten feet to go. The passenger door was still open from when Shane bailed moments before.

Your legs burned as you forced yourself to move faster. The snarls and groans growing louder with each painful step.

The tail of your truck came in your periphery. 8 more feet. The walkers were almost on you.

You'd never be able to get him into the truck without getting eaten, so you leaned down and slumped Shane against the rear tire. As you stood to reach into the bed for your rifle, a nauseous stench enveloped you and you were slammed from behind. Pain shot up your arm as you landed hard onto the pavement beside Shane. You quickly flipped to your back and screamed as the walker clawed and snarled above you.

You clamped your hand around its throat trying desperately to keep it from biting your face off. Your arm threatened to give way as you frantically looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon.

Then you saw it.

There, in the rear waistband of Shane's cargo pants...was his handgun.

You reached for it, just barely brushing it with your fingertips. Your hand was slipping, the skin of the walker tearing beneath your grasp.

You cried out, your arm barely holding the walker at bay as you forced yourself to reach again for the handgun.

Please be fucking loaded!

Your fingers wrapped around the grip and in one swift motion you yanked it from his waistband, raised it and fired through the walker's eye socket. Shoving the corpse off of you, you sat up and began firing at the remaining walkers now inches from Shane.

You dropped all five of them and lowered the gun as you leaned against the bed of the truck to catch your breath.

You grunted as you moved to your feet after a few moments, checking the clip in the gun before stuffing it in your waistband.

'Alright, let's try this again.' You steadied yourself as you began to drag Shane back to the truck.

After a few non-ladylike noises you'd managed to get Shane up and into the cab of your truck and shut the door.

You settled back into the driver's seat and looked over at the still unconscious man, gauging his breathing for a moment.

'I sure hope I'm making the right call here.' You said quietly, turning the key as your truck roared to life.

***

You made it back to the small cabin in record time. The cabin belonged to your uncle who had used it as a hunting camp for years. You were pretty sure you were the only one who knew its location besides him. Buried in the thick forest barely reachable by vehicle, it was the perfect spot to hide out.

You eased the truck up as close as possible to the front porch and killed the engine. The sun was setting and with the thick tree over, it was practically dark already. You had to move fast.

'Hey,' you looked down and shook Shane's shoulder. 'Shane, can you hear me?'

His eyelids flickered slightly as a weak groan rumbled in his chest.

Good enough. He was alive at least.

You threw your door open and slid out of the truck. Turning slowly in place you quickly scanned the area for any movement. Last thing you needed was a walker to come up on you again while dragging him inside.

You shook your arms and puffed out a breath, gathering yourself.

Leaning back into the truck, you maneuvered Shane onto his back. Hooking your hands under his arms, you began sliding him towards you. Backstepping, you grunted as you continued to haul Shane out of the truck. Somehow you misjudged, his weight overbalancing you and knocking you to the ground in a heap.

'Shit,' you wheezed as you struggled to roll his unconscious body off of you. 'Fuck, man, you're heavier than you look.' You hauled him into a semi sitting position and moved behind him, locking your arms across his massive chest.

After a few painstaking minutes and several embarrassing grunts, you managed to drag him up the steps and into the cabin.

Leaving him on the floor in the entryway, you quickly ran back outside, securing your truck and gathering your bags.

Dropping everything, you locked the door behind you before readying yourself to move him further into the living room. You knelt beside him ...and froze...

'Shane?'

He wasn't breathing.

'No! No, the fuck you don't!' You immediately began hard chest compressions, feeling the cartilage crunch beneath your hands. 'You are not dying on me after all of this!' You leaned down and gave him mouth to mouth before checking for a pulse.

Nothing.

'Shane!' You threw your full weight into your fist as you pounded onto his chest. 'God dammit!' You opened his mouth and blew hard, forcing air deep into his lungs. His body jerked and gasped, causing you to flail backwards. His hand clamped in a vice grip around your neck before you could move fully off of him. His eyes wild as he continued to gasp below you. Your hands failed and clawed at his trying to pry it from your throat, your lungs screaming.

Just as your vision began to darken, his eyes shifted and rolled. His head lulled to the side as his hand released you, dropping to his chest.

You fumbled backwards, choking in panicked breaths as your mind reeled. You were sure he'd turned and that was it, but it was merely an involuntary reaction of him being brought back to life.

'Holy...fuck.' you ran your hands over your face for a moment before your mind kicked back in.

He needs stitched up otherwise he will die and turn.

You gathered yourself and clambered back over to him and continued moving him further into the living room. With the adrenaline coursing through you, after having almost died yourself, you'd managed to haul him up onto the couch. Retrieving one of the medical kits from your packs, you went to work.

Cutting his shirt from his body, you quickly found that there was more than one stab wound. Your heart sank. This was going to be more difficult that you'd expected.

You huffed out a breath and set your mind to the task at hand. He was not going to die on your watch. You worked quickly and diligently as you cleaned the wounds and wiped the caked blood from his body.

Now to focus on the stitches. You couldn't tell how deep the wounds were and you hesitated.

What if all of this was for nothing? What if he died overnight and then decided you were a perfect midnight snack?

No.

Get your head together.

You chewed your bottom lip as you gathered the needle and thread. You were going to do everything in your power to make sure he lived.

Why? You don't even know him. Say he survives and then just kills you.

No. He won't.

You sterilized the needle with a lighter before turning back to him. You drew in a breath and went to work.

*~*~*~*~*

A/N:

Thanks so much for hanging with me! I'm sorry I don't update quickly. My daughter takes up most of my energy so I'm writing as I can! I hope you're enjoying this so far! I'm working on Part Three and will post as soon as possible! Let me know if you want tagged! 💜

#shane walsh twd #shane walsh/reader #shane walsh x oc #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh fanfiction

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