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starglitterz · 2 years

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♡ EVERY TIME AROUND.

tartaglia is your most loyal subordinate who has stuck by you through thick and thin, but on his birthday, it seems like he's in for the surprise of a lifetime orchestrated by none other than yourself.

✦ feat : childe / tartaglia x gn!reader

✦ warning(s) : spoilers for childe's backstory, mafia!au, mentions of killing, barely proofread

✦ a/n : i just think that childe deserves and would adore an s/o who is as deranged and unhinged as he is ty for coming to my ted talk <3 | part of @souglias' childe bday event for the prompt; mafia au ! tysm for organising it + letting me join sher, i had a ton of fun writing this 💞!!

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

"thievery is generally frowned upon, you know."

the coldness of your voice makes the temperature in the room drop subzero, icier than the freezing winds swirling around your mansion, within the depths of which you're currently interrogating childe. his trademark smile wavers just the slightest at your frosty tone, but he wouldn't be your right-hand man if he couldn't slip it back into place a second later as if nothing happened. "well, i suppose murder and blackmail is also frowned upon, but the fatui doesn't seem to mind that," he jokes, though his laughter dies in his throat when your expression doesn't change.

"it gets worse," you pause for effect, ignoring his reply and tracing an immaculately manicured nail along your wooden desk, "when you can't return what you've stolen." upon hearing this, tartaglia, the world's most renowned contract killer who's put a bullet through an immeasurable number of people without hesitation, feels a shiver run up his spine. "is this about the expenses from last month?" childe's wracking his brain, searching desperately for whatever reason there might be for you to be so upset with him. "because i swear they were crucial for the mission. and anyways i'll pay it back as soon as possible, in fact i can repay it right now if you pass me your bank details." he's rambling again. he hates when he does this. it's embarrassing and a sign of weakness; a trait nobody in the mafia should possess.

"what do you think i'm talking about, ajax?" you fix him with a penetrative stare, and the use of his true name reserved solely for your knowledge makes him tense up, as if all his walls are being stripped away until nothing is left but the young boy from morepesok he's being trying to bury for so long. he swallows once and looks down, unable to meet your gaze, "i don't know." "well," you stroll forward, tipping his chin up to face you with your index finger, "we should fix that, shouldn't we? it would be a shame if a criminal were to be tried for a theft he wasn’t even aware of."

to say childe is terrified would be the understatement of the century. he knows that your favour means nothing when it comes to matters of life and death. the mafia is merely a mess of lone wolves bound together by the promise of fatui protection, and they're all ready to jump ship at the first sign of real trouble. that's why everyone here is always so careful – the only rule is; one mistake and you're out, and nobody wants to be out. considering that, it would be incredibly unfair if childe was kept safe even after crossing a line just because of his connections to you, so he understands why he would be in trouble if he had done something. but this time, childe surprisingly cannot think of even a single thing that would warrant your displeasure.

his sea blue irises meet your empty ones, and you're reminded strangely of the starconches decorating the sands of snezhnaya. your gloved hand slips to cup his face, thumb caressing his cheek as he shuts his eyes. "what you stole," you lean closer and whisper into his ear, "is…" childe holds his breath, waiting for the final blow.

"my heart!"

"what?!"

"happy birthday!" you whip out a cake from under your desk, and grin widely at him as if you weren't insinuating his end mere moments ago. "i– what?!" childe can't help but repeat himself, it feels like his brain needs another decade to process what just happened. "i was just messing with you~" you wink and beam, and somehow childe knows that he'd forgive you a million times again and go to the ends of the earth if it meant he'd get to see that smile again. "it was revenge for the prank you pulled last year on my birthday anyway," you huff at the memory, "i really thought you died, can you blame me for wanting to get back at you?"

childe doesn't know what to say, his heart is beating a million miles per hour from his so-called 'near death experience', yet all he can think is that you're the only person in the world who would be able to retaliate to his prank in such an equally perfect manner while managing to come off as caring, and holy archons he loves you so much. so he responds in the only way with which he thinks can convey all his feelings accurately; a kiss!

when he pulls away, childe presses his forehead against yours, bumping your nose gently, "love you." you smile, "love you too, ajax." "even though you're always mean to me," he pretends not to hear you and sighs dramatically. you swat him playfully, "idiot." "i'm your idiot though~" he laughs and gives you a smug smirk, "and you can't deny it because it's my birthday!" you roll your eyes and tug him closer, "just shut up and kiss me again already, birthday boy."

pov quill changes her formatting for the nth time

#✏️ — quill writes !#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe fluff

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faofinn · 2 years

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No. 13 CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS

@whumptober

@whumptober-archive

Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One of the men looked over at Henri, who was enjoying the way Harrison’s chest heaved and he struggled to cling onto consciousness. “Boss, he doesn’t look too good…”

He tutted. “Again.”

“Boss?”

“I. Said. Again.”

Harrison couldn't hold on. He was going to die, and that, apparently, was that. He coughed and spluttered, giving a final, desperate attempt to get free.

They let him struggle for a little longer, before Henri raised his hand and the water stopped once more.

“Sit him up.” He ordered, and the men rushed forwards to lift the chair he was sat on.

The change in position was the final straw for Harrison. His head lolled forward as his body gave in, and he slipped into empty blackness.

Satisfied, Henri looked at his men. “We’ll leave him, let him reflect for a while. Looks like we’ve found our in.” He said.

The men filed out, leaving Harrison alone in the middle of the room. Now they knew they could break him, things seemed easier. They just had to get their information before the Daniels caught wind of where they were.

Harrison struggled as he came round, disoriented and confused. His hair dripped down his face, and he flinched every time. He was soaked through, the chill seeping into his bones.

The peace didn’t last long for him. They watched him carefully as he came round, Henri particularly interested in the way he flinched every time his hair dripped water into his face. Perfect. They waited until he’d just started to drift off again, clearly exhausted from the day, and slipped inside. It was simpler than before, and Henri hung back as they emptied a bucket of water over Harrison’s head.

He shouted in shock, jerking backwards and almost tipping the chair over. It took him a moment to catch up, confused and more than a little terrified. He caught sight of Henri, of the stupid grin on his face, and he lowered his head again.

He reached forwards, fingers below Harrison’s chin to raise his head. “Hello, Carlos. Back with us, are you?”

Harrison had nothing to say, no sarcastic comment or smartarse remark. He didn't look Henri in the eye, he knew he'd been beaten.

“No stupid comment? I was enjoying them.” He purred. “Are you going to talk to me now?”

He shook his head, his voice cracking. "No."

He hummed. “Come on, I can tell you’re desperate to get out of here.”

"I'd sooner die."

“Be careful what you wish for.”

"Stop teasing me."

“It’s not fun otherwise.” He murmured. “We all love a tease.”

Harrison pulled his head away. "I've had enough."

“That’s fine, just tell me what you know.”

"I don't know anything."

“You do.” Henri purred. “I know you do.”

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't let me go."

“I might. I’m sweet, really. I’ve not touched you, hmm?”

"You broke my nose." He managed a wry smile. "Think that's enough.'

“I can make things worse.”

"You can stop with your games. I've got nothing to tell you."

“You’ve told me that lie a hundred times now. I don’t believe you.”

"You'll kill me before I say anything."

“We’re careful. We don’t want you to die.”

"I'm as much use dead as I am now."

“That’s just not true.”

"It is. You think the Daniels want me? Of course not. And everyone else just uses me for their shit they don't want to have to do."

“You’re only here because the Daniels want you. Doing their dirty work for them, no?”

"They pay me to do what they don't want to." He raised his head. "That's all."

“Lying really isn’t a good look on you. Which is a shame, because you’re pretty.”

"Flattered, but you're not my type."

“I’m everyone’s type.”

"You've really got an ego problem, haven't you?"

“Are you going to talk to me? I know you know things.”

"I know you're an arsehole."

“Now now, let’s not be rude.”

"And a hypocrite."

“Let’s see if we can change your feelings.” He said, trailing his fingers down Harrison’s arm.

Harrison clenched his fists, glaring at Henri. "Doubt you will."

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I can be very persuasive.” He said, digging his nails into Harrison’s hand, aiming to get him to open his fingers.

He knew exactly what he was aiming for, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Despite his best efforts, Henri managed to pry his fist open. "Fuck you."

“I thought I wasn’t your type?” He said, and grasped his thumb, quickly twisting it back until he felt it break.

Harrison couldn't help his whimper, despite his jaw clenched tight. The audible snap made his stomach turn, but he knew it was only the beginning.

“Oh, did that hurt?”

"No."

He laughed. “Sure, if you say so.” He grasped his index finger this time, and again pulled it back until it snapped.

"I can't tell you anything."

“I know you can. You might be the Daniels’ dog, but you’re a smart man, you hear things. Just tell me.”

"I don't know anything."

“I think I’ll break a bone for every lie you tell me.”

"Then you're a cunt." Harrison managed a grin. "That's not a lie."

“I think I can live with that.”

"And you'll regret this."

“I’m not regretting it so far. Actually, I’m rather enjoying it.”

"Then you're a psychopath too."

“As though you’ve never done this. I know what you’re capable of.”

"Do you?"

“You’re just like the rest of them.” He said, pulling a knife from his pocket, which he used to cut the bindings from Harrison’s wrist.

Harrison didn't move, watching Henri closely. "Am I?"

“You have to be.” He said. “They say it takes a lot of force to dislocate a shoulder, but really it’s all about the biomechanics. How you use your body.” His voice was cold, almost disinterested, as he gripped Harrison’s wrist.

His eyes widened, and he tried pulling his arm back. He'd be fucked if Henri did dislocate it.

He chuckled. “You could tell me what you know. When are your next deals happening? When is your boss meeting with his buyers?”

"I don't know. I'm not part of that."

“Of course you are.”

"I'm not. I'm really, really not."

“Where was it you said you’d been? France? I know you work internationally for him. You’ll know when the meetings happen, who the buyers are.”

"I went to get pissed. Not on business."

“Hmm. It’s a shame you lied.” He purred, putting his other hand on his bicep. He was firm as he extended Harrison’s arm, twisting it back behind him until he found the point where the muscles stopped the joint. “Tell me the truth.”

"I did."

“Except you didn’t. You can’t even remember your own lies.” He said, and twisted, forceful enough to feel the joint clunk out of its socket.

Harrison gasped in pain, the room spinning as the blood rushed in his ears. "No."

“See? Easy enough. It’s just how you use your body.”

He hung his head, each breath a whimper. He'd known Henri would find a reason, but he'd pushed it too far. Harrison couldn't keep doing it, he was close to breaking, but he knew he couldn't say anything.

“Still nothing to say to me? That’s alright, I’ll let you catch your breath.” He said, gripping the disfigured shoulder firmly. He dug his thumb into the muscles around the joint. “So stoic.”

Harrison retched, spitting onto the floor. The movement only dug Henri's thumb further in, making the pain so much worse.

“Alright. I’ll be back later.” He said, and clapped him on the back before he headed out, stepping delicately through the mess.

Harrison gave a quiet groan, dropping his head. Henri wasn't going to give in without a fight, and Harrison was struggling to keep his mouth shut.

They left him like that for a while. Henri knew full well the pain would get worse the longer the shoulder was out of joint, and with the fingers too, he’d be in a whole world of pain. They’d wait just long enough for him to lose consciousness, and then they had more water waiting. Sleep deprivation was a powerful tool.

His arm pulled with each breath, and the residual coughing from the water made it even worse. Despite the pain, he began to drift, and he wasn’t convinced it was just from tiredness. He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight either, his confusion only growing. It worried him, of course it did, aware Henri was only doing it to loosen his tongue.

They left him like that for a while, watching how his head lolled as he tried to cling to consciousness. He was close to breaking, they knew that. Once they were happy he’d had long enough, Henri sent another man in with another bucket of water, this time ice cold. As before, they threw it straight over his head, laughing.

Harrison screamed as they did so, the pain and trauma overwhelming him. His jerk awake had pulled his arm yet again, his hands automatically trying to clench into fists. The pain was too much, blackness growing in his vision as he slipped under once again.

They’d not expected him to black out again after the water. But, Henri supposed, it showed how broken he already was. He strode in after the men, watching the water drip from Harrison’s hair and clothes. It was easy enough to rouse him, they just needed more pain. Henri could certainly do more pain. He grasped Harrison’s fingers, twisting those that were already broken.

The stab of pain cut through the darkness, and he groaned, slowly raising his head. He wasn’t surprised to see Henri by his side, and he glared at him.

“Ah, there we go, that’s better.” He said brightly. “Didn’t like the water?”

"Like you would."

“Perhaps, but it’s you that has to deal with it, not me.” He said, moving to stand in front of him. “You’re starting to test my patience, Carlos. Are you going to tell me anything?”

"I've already told you no." He said weakly.

“That really is a shame.” Henri said, drawing his gun.

Harrison looked up at him, eyes wide. "I can't tell you anything."

“You know I hate it when you lie.” He clicked the safety of the gun off.

"I'm not lying."

“Oh, but you are.” Henri said. “I could kill you. But I think maybe by now that’s what you want. What could I do instead, hmm?”

"Does it matter?"

“I’ve taken away one of your arms, and, well, you’ve already sorted one of the legs for me. I suppose with no prosthesis it’s going to be hard to walk… especially if something were to happen to your good leg.”

A well aimed shot could easily take his other leg away, permanently. Or, Henri could miss what he was aiming for and kill him anyway, let him bleed out in the cell.

Henri pressed the muzzle of the gun into his thigh. “What do you think?”

Harrison swallowed thickly. "I can't tell yu anything."

“Can’t, or won’t?”

"Can't." His voice wobbled slightly. "I really can't."

Henri tutted. “That really is a shame.” He said, and pulled the trigger.

"Harrison!"

Through the ringing of his ears he'd almost convinced himself he'd heard Steve, Fred shouting orders behind him. It wasn’t real, of course it couldn't be. It was just a figment of his imagination, his mind making something better up rather than facing his reality.

He didn't realise it was his scream at first, dizziness threatening to overwhelm him once more. He dropped his head to his chest, sobs wracking his body as he gave in. Henri had done it, he'd broken him, he'd finally broken him.

It wasn’t Harrison’s imagination. After days of searching, they’d finally found where they were holding Harrison. Fred had gone himself, Steve as backup and medical. It wasn’t hard to see how he felt about Harrison, he was pretty obvious. Fred knew full well he wouldn’t be able to stop him coming.

The door to the holding cell was forced open with a well placed kick from Steve’s boot, and his heart dropped as the gunshot echoed around the room. He’d shouted, and shot, but missed.

Gun forgotten, he fell to his knees in front of Harrison, Henri already vanished.

“Harrison. Fuck, Harrison.” He breathed. The gunshot hadn’t been fatal, thankfully. Steve didn’t have to lose another son. He couldn’t. He fumbled to get something, anything to stop the bleeding, spilling through his fingers. There was so much of it, too much.

Harrison was barely conscious, each moment he'd come to, pain would push him straight back over again. He gave a quiet whimper as hands pressed against his leg, unable to do anything else.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. You’re okay, we’re going to get you home. I promise. We’re getting you out of here.” He fumbled with the bandages as he did his best to sort things.

“Fred! We need to go, right now!”

"Busy, Steve! Do what you can!"

Harrison finally spoke, his voice rough and throat raw. "Steve?"

“I’m here.” Steve said, quickly glancing up. “I’ve got you now.”

"Are you here to break me out?" He asked, feeling so small.

“We’re going to get you home.” Steve told him. “Just hold on for me.” One arm was still bound to the chair, as were both of his legs, where they could. The other hug uselessly at his side, obviously dislocated and clearly fingers broken too. There wasn’t a lot he could do about that here, and now he’d finished his bandage he grabbed his knife, cutting at Harrison’s bindings.

Without his arm tied to the chair, he fell forward, unable to hold himself up. The change in position coupled with the flare of pain left him unconscious again, a quiet groan as he slumped.

Steve swore. “Fred!” He called more urgently. “We need to go!”

Fred appeared, blood smeared on his face and gun drawn. "Quickly, come on. We've got a window."

Steve hefted Harrison onto his shoulder, groaning at the weight of him. “I just need to get him out. That cunt’s already gone.”

He looked him up and down. "How bad is he?"

“Bad.”

"Could really have fucking used Fao then." Fred muttered. "Come on."

“Shouldn’t be anything I can’t handle.” Steve said, eager to get out. Harrison was freezing cold, soaked to the skin, and he was acutely aware of the blood all over him.

Harrison let out a quiet groan, dizziness and nausea rising. He still wasn't convinced Steve was actually real, but it was better than the alternative.

“I know.” Steve soothed. “I’m sorry. We’re going to get you home now.”

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higuchimon · 2 years

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[fanfic] Unseen Friends

Juudai! Juudai! Hane Kuriboh beat his wings as hard as he could against Juudai’s head. His person didn’t always notice when he did that, especially if Juudai happened to be asleep at the time, but more often than not, he at least brushed the feathers away, and since he started to see spirits on a more regular basis, he’d always offered his tiny fuzzy partner a warm smile.

But not this time. Now Juudai slumped on the edge of the cliff, his head tucked down, his eyes closed. He didn’t even twitch no matter how much Hane Kuriboh shouted or smacked. It was even worse than it had been before, when that tiny thread that bound them together hadn’t been strong enough for the boy to see him.

At least then he’d heard Hane Kuriboh voice. He’d been aware of the love of his spirits, no matter what. Now he just sat there. Now whenever he looked at his cards - well, Hane Kuriboh wasn’t certain of what he saw, but it wasn’t them.

A gentle hand brushed against his back and he flicked around to see Featherman standing there. Many was the interesting night they’d spent discussing wing care with one another. He wasn’t the only on who stood there. Burst Lady did as well, and Sparkman and Clayman and everyone else in Juudai’s deck.

“He can’t see or hear us,” Burst Lady murmured, regarding Juudai quietly. “The Light of Ruin is inside of him - only a small sliver, but enough to keep him away from us.”

Hane Kuriboh trilled softly, looking back to Juudai. Normally hearing or seeing all of his deck talking to him would have been cause for a celebration for days - probably by dueling. Most of the time, he was the only one free to talk to Juudai. As his power grew stronger, that would change, of course. He would be able to see and hear them whenever he wanted.

Juudai? Hane Kuriboh butted his head against the back of Juudai’s head again. And once again, there wasn’t any response at all.

“He needs help that we can’t give him.” Featherman declared. “And there’s no way that we can tell him how to do it.”

Hane Kuriboh glanced quickly back at the Elemental Hero of the Wind. How? Every spirit knew about the Light of Ruin and the Gentle Darkness. Even the Ojamas - though Hane Kuriboh suspected that they pretended not to, since the existence of the Great War terrified virtually anyone who heard about it in the first place.

Who can? Hane Kuriboh murmured, settling down to rest on Juudai’s head. Perhaps his person couldn’t hear him or see him, but it would make Hane Kuriboh himself feel a lot better.

“The Neo-Spacians. He created them a very long time ago. They’re kindred of ours - distant, but kin all the same.” Clayman rumbled, voice deep and rough as always.

“We intended to let him know about them soon. The Light of Ruin has been growing a great deal stronger lately. But we didn’t get the chance.” Featherman shook his head. “And now we can’t at all.”

Hane Kuriboh stared up at Juudai. So many words wanted to be said, but he wasn’t sure about any of them. If only he could say something to Juudai, give him some kind of support or help or something.

No matter what happened, he wasn’t going to abandon Juudai. He knew some spirits who might waver on their humans if the human couldn’t see or hear them anymore, but he wasn’t one of them. He would remain loyal. Juudai needed him.

And Juudai would find them again. This couldn’t last forever - it wouldn’t last forever. If Hane Kuriboh had to go find these “Neo-Spacians” himself and get them to wrench the Light out of Juudai’s head, then that was what he would do.

Juudai moved, and for a few seconds Hane Kuriboh pulsed with hope that his person had heard him or seen him or something. But Juudai only got up and slumped his way down the cliff to the Osiris Red building. Hane Kuriboh trilled softly, fluttering after him.

“Be careful if you stay too near him for now,” Burst Lady told him. “The Light can’t do much more to harm him but if it could somehow get into your card through him, it would be almost impossible to get rid of.”

I don’t care. Hane Kuriboh declared, flapping his wings harder. He’s my person! Our person! We have to stay with him!

If they couldn’t do it, than he would. Humans didn’t know what was going on. They barely seemed to grasp that anything at all had changed with Juudai beyond the shock of having lost a duel. But Hane Kuriboh would be there, no matter what, for as long as Juudai needed him.

The End

Notes: Imagine how Hane Kuriboh’s going to feel during s3. Poor flying fluffball.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #hane kuriboh #gxmonth2022

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retvenkos · 3 years

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to dance among the stars | c.b.

Bridgerton - Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader, fluff requested by @musicallisto

tw: talk of marriage

word count: 1.4k

prompt: “Dance with me?”

A/N: I started writing.... forgot i had a prompt to fit in... decided to just keep going and hope for the best. i feel like that meme “it’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

Summary: (Y/n) hated dances and balls, but if there was anyone who could change their mind, it would be Colin Bridgerton.

(Y/n) laughed into the clear night air, throwing her head back in blissful happiness, unaware of the way that Colin Bridgerton looked at her - as though his whole life was in her smile. A clement wind greeted the two on their stroll, allowing the music from the nearby ball to drift toward them, a sound much more soft and inviting now that there was distance between the two and the dance floor.

“You, Colin, will be the death of me,” (Y/n) said, her words like a happy sigh, a gentle ending to her enjoyment of his presence.

“The death of you? I thought I heroically saved you from having to entertain suitors all evening,” he teased, straightening his jacket dramatically, as though they were in one of (Y/n)’s novels - the kind with epic romances and gruesome battles. (Y/n) scoffed, swatting him on the shoulder. “I am your knight in shining armor, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes—” Colin chuckled, earning a smile “—but I saved you from your mother. She’s been looking for a project now that Daphne’s entertaining the prince, is she not?”

“My mother is always looking for something.” Colin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I won’t be properly saved until I marry some girl from the ton.”

“Oh.” Colin’s words ushered in an awkward lapse of silence that had both of them turning away from each other, taking a sudden interest in their shoes. They slowed their walk to a stop, and the breeze drifted between them, as though pushing them apart.

It was silly that something like a wayward comment could reduce them to silence, but the future lay within that statement - a future fast approaching and terrifying in its weight. The ton was designed for marriage. Here, at these balls and parties, both of them were supposed to find someone to marry - to bind themselves to another for the rest of their lives.

Another couple walked past the two and (Y/n) watched them go, disappearing into the evening - perhaps to dance among the stars.

“Well... is there someone who’s caught your eye?” (Y/n) fidgeted with her gloves as she spoke, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer. Colin had always been a flirt, and his romantic tendencies had always been something (Y/n) both admired and teased, and yet to know if his heart truly lied with one of them was the very thing she wanted least. Being out here with Colin - away from everyone else and anything that might stand between them - was the only thing that made the ton worthwhile. All else paled in comparison to these moments seemingly stolen from the flow of time, where they were two souls together, walking the same path for a brief while, hearts close enough to touch.

To have them be taken away would be too much of a heartache. Worse than anything she could fathom.

Colin looked at (Y/n) with his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, (Y/n) took hold of the conversation once more.

“Perhaps Marina Thompson? She was quite popular before she fell ill. Will you be the one to ask for her hand, at the end of the season?”

“Miss Thompson is a fine girl, but... no.” (Y/n) looked up abruptly and met Colin’s blinking stare. Even when baffled there was something light about him - kind and caring - it tugged on her heart more than she cared to admit. “I would much rather wait than make a hasty match.”

“Hasty?” (Y/n) stifled a laugh, the mature word - not at all like the Colin she knew - bringing humor back into the conversation. Colin was forcing down a blush, his cheeks warming in color, like roses beneath his skin.

“I just mean I want to love my wife before we get married, instead of having to force feelings after the fact.”

(Y/n) smiled, taking a step closer to lock arms with Colin once more. “I hope you get to.”

The two resumed their walk, never going too far from the festivities to be considered improper, but managing to stay well away from anyone else. Colin admired the way that (Y/n) looked under the night sky - her beauty something wholly unique to her, and yet perfectly matched to the darkening sky. In the light of her eyes lay all the beauty of the cosmos, and in her smile lay all the thrills of the world. All the universe was captured in her essence, and Colin knew that all of his longing for travel could be satiated with a single touch; a kiss from (Y/n) could carry all of the wonders of the world, and no matter how many times he visited her touch, he would never lose his wanderlust.

(Y/n) fixed him with a look, as though they could sense that his thoughts rested with them.

Colin cleared his throat. It was one thing to care for (Y/n) - it was quite another to admit he had fallen in love. “What about you? Surely you’ve found a suitor who is the least bit exciting?”

“They think themselves exciting, if that is answer enough,” (Y/n) sighed, looking at Colin through the corner of her eye. “But truly Colin, having to entertain them is the worst part about these dances.”

"Even worse than dancing? I know you avoid getting out on the floor like it’s the plague.”

“Because when you’re on the dance floor, you’re trapped! That’s when entertaining suitors is at its worst.” Colin chuckled at (Y/n)’s words. “If I had a choice, I would come to these balls and the only man I would dance with is you.”

“Me?”

(Y/n) nodded.

Colin paused and they drew to a halt so he could better marvel at the woman before him. “If you had your choice in the matter, wouldn’t you rather avoid the dance floor altogether?”

“No,” (Y/n) said, dipping her head with a look that said she had spoken too much but was too fond of what she said, and not keen on taking it back. “I suppose I would like to dance with you.”

You’d dance with me?”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, I know you enjoy it.”

And around them, the world was hushed. The voices and sounds of the nearby ball were drowned out by the thumping of their hearts. Colin looked at (Y/n) and saw them so clearly, he was almost taken aback. How could one be so beautiful that their existence shamed a sky full of stars?

“Dance with me, then?”

He spoke before he acted, but it wasn’t long before his hand was outstretched, waiting for (Y/n) to take it.

“Right here?” But her hand was already resting in his, her smile bright and warm. "There's no music."

"Then come a few steps this way." Colin pulled her a few paces closer to the ball. (Y/n) chuckled as Colin tugged on her arm, guiding them nearer. He put a finger on his lips to shush her, causing (Y/n) to roll her eyes, smiling all the while. The soft lilt of music was slightly louder, here, but still distant enough that they had to be silent to hear the beat. Colin took a step closer, and although there were still enough space between them and enough bystanders around for their actions to be considered proper, there was an intimacy in the moment to make (Y/n)’s cheeks heat up.

"Is it loud enough for you to hear?” Colin whispered.

"It's perfect."

Adjusting his hand in hers, Colin led (Y/n) into a dance, smiling at her in a way that could only be described as lovestruck. His entire being was in awe of her as they spun around each other, like the moon in orbit of the earth. There was something heavenly in (Y/n)’s eyes, and when the song ended, the light in them did not fade.

“I love you,” Colin breathed, the words falling out of his mouth before he had the time to realize he had said them. It was the purest of admissions, one he hadn’t planned or even dreamed of admitting until the very moment he said it. “I-I love you,” he repeated, as though he needed to affirm the truth.

“Colin, I love you, too.” And all the world was in their smile, once again, all of the universe seemingly wrapped up in their blissful words.

Colin let out a laugh that was almost a joyful sigh, and in his eyes were stars - constellations that burned brighter than the sun. He took (Y/n)’s gloved hand and kissed it, wishing it could be something more.

“Perhaps you will dance with me more often, then.”

“At every ball we attend.”

-- taglist: @findmeintheafterglow, @prttybitchin // message me if you want to be added!

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #one shot #imagine #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #fluff #reader insert #fem!reader #i wanted to make it gender neutral but then i started talking about suitors and whatnot.#and finally. a decent fic title

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment.

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

“You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

“Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

“Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

“Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

“If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

“Dean, look at me.”

He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

“Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

“I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

“It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

“And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

“I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

“Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

“It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

“We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

“She’s going to wake up.”

And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

“She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

“DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

“What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

“Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

“I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I’ll be fine. Please?”

Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

“Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

“I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

“You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

“Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

“Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

“You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

“Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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itsyaboymrtom · 3 years

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Yandere Headcanons for my boi Diluc!!

((If y’all ever want anything I am taking requests. Please it would do more help then harm I have no ideas))

-he’s been hanging around Mondstat more often these days. It’s nice to see him get out of the dawn winery mansion now and again

-he’s not very social with the people around Mondstat. He’s downright rude to a lot of the knights. It’s hard to tell if he has any friends in the city at all

-you’ve tried to make small talk with him a fair few times. He isn’t very good with conversation, but he isn’t cruel to you the way he is with others. He simply seems to be kinda awkward; not speaking much, kind of just nodding his head and staring at you with a small smile whenever you talk

-it’s honestly rather endearing. But you tend to run out of conversation topics very fast. You talk a lot about your interests but you don’t know much about Diluc

—you’ve tried to ask him, but he never seems very eager to share anything; simply saying things about how at the moment he’s just trying to get a better balance on his social life and work and not elaborating at all

-you’ve tried to get him to be nice to the knights you have. Or just anyone in Mondstat.

-if you’re greeting someone or just exchanging pleasantries with other people while you’re with him he’ll scowl at them until they leave

- you ask him why he does this a couple of times. You say that he’s scaring away anyone who would want to talk to him and that’s it’s rude. He doesn’t respond

-“Well, I haven’t scared you away yet.”

-It reached a point where it was so bad people around Mondstat would complain to you about Diluc’s behaviour and his demeanour towards the knights and ask you to fix it

-When you practically begged him to stop being so harsh he did get better. Most people around Mondstat were still scared of him but he wouldn’t actively try to scare them anymore

- You always seemed to find Diluc when you were out shopping or in a crowd. It never occurred to you that he was watching you

- One night when you were at the tavern, sitting across the bar from Diluc, a man took a seat next to you and repeatedly hit on you

- he was pretty cute. He seemed nice enough and was clearly interested in you, so you weren’t particularly against talking to him for a while

- you were so distracted by this man chatting you up you didn’t even realise Diluc was there. Or that he was giving a death glare a million times worse than any you’d seen him pull before

-your conversation with the nice man only lasted about 2 minutes before Diluc walked to the door of the tavern, making sure to loudly tell all the patrons he was closing up early tonight

-the man asked if you wanted to continue the evening back at his place since it had been cut so short

-Diluc lost it. He put one hand on you should and one hand on the other mans. “Y/n’s going to be busy tonight.” He says, before forcibly pushing you out of the way to talk to the man.

-by now you were the only ones left in the tavern as all the others had cleared out.

-Diluc didn’t say anything to this man, simply dragging him outside the tavern, locking its door behind him. The streets were dark and the guards were all protecting the gates at this time of night, so it was only the two of them

- you didn’t know what to think. You knew Diluc was dangerously strong, and he seemed incredibly angry. You couldn’t help but get worried as to what he might do

-you ran to the tavern door but it’d been locked. You than ran upstairs onto the balcony to try and see what was going on

- the street was no longer dark. Diluc held a flaming greatsword, repeatedly stabbing downwards into a figure not moving on the floor. There’s no way... Diluc would never...

-you couldn’t lie to your eyes though. The sight in front of you was undeniable

-you had to get out of here.

-you looked around the balcony, trying to find an escape. There didn’t appear to be anything though

-but you couldn’t stay here. You decided you’d try to climb the roof. You stood on the railing of the balcony and climbed higher onto the roof. You had grabbed onto a wooden beam to support yourself but as soon as you tried to pull yourself up with it snapped rather loudly

-Diluc changed his attention from the body on the floor to stare up at you for a moment. You caught his eyes for a split second. He looked surprised, and he then ran into the tavern.

- pure panic overtook you. He was coming for you. You had to run.

-after a few desperate attempts you managed to pull yourself up onto the roof. The roof of the next building over wasn’t that far. Maybe two or three meters. You knew you could make it if you tried

- but looking down at the drop below you, you hesitated. What if you fell?!

-you heard footsteps on the roof behind you and turned around. You saw Diluc standing there

-his hair and tailcoat were blowing in the wind. He looks relieved to see you safe but also afraid of how close you were to the edge. He smelt horrible; the scent of smoke and blood practically assaulting your nostrils and you realised his entire front and even parts of his face were covered in blood

-he offered you the small awkward smile he did when you talked to him. Despite the circumstances, seeing it on his face now didn't at all feel out of place

-“Y/n... it's okay. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” He says, eyes burning bright red. “You’re not scared of me, are you? That’s the last thing I want...”

-he paused to look up at the sky. “The stars are beautiful up here... they get even prettier when we leave the city. Come with me to Dawn Winery.” He says, taking a few steps closer to you. You couldn’t step back with the gap there

-“There’s no knights or drunkards at the winery. It will just be the two of us and loyal servants.” He says, his smile growing brighter. He seemed excited about this, but that alone was terrifying

-“Come home with me Y/n.” He says, close enough to you now where he could hold you in his arms, pressing you up against his bloodstained front. You were well and truly trapped now, any hope you had of escape was gone

-you started crying uncontrollably into Diluc. You didn’t want to see his face. You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t want to be here.

-Diluc held you closer and ran his fingers through your hair as you cried for a while, before picking you up and gliding down off the roof with you. Even at the sight of you crying in terror, he couldn’t help but smile. After all the pain of watching you dance around with everyone else in Mondstat, he finally had you in his arms

-“Y/n, I love you. I love you more than that man and the entirety of Mondstat. Come home with me, I’ll make sure you never forget how incredibly strong our love is.”

#genshin boys x reader #genshin boys #gi diluc #diluc x y/n #diluc imagines #diluc x reader #diluc #yandere #genshin x reader

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished. - Words: 1,052

Lokisses Mini-Imagine Series

Lokisses Masterlist

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️: Mentions of kidnapping and torture, allusions to sexual assault although nothing is bluntly or graphically mentioned.

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't exactly want to go on this mission myself, Loki," You whispered, snuggling into him further under the warm blankets. "But I really have no choice." Loki hummed softly, kissing your forehead.

"Still," He trailed off. "When do you have to get up?"

"Not for another half hour or so."

"Good," Loki replied. He pulled you closer to him, kissing you earnestly. "Give me more time for this," He grinned.

"Silly boy," You replied. However you did not oppose his idea and kissed him back.

2 weeks later you are seriously regretting ever getting out of bed that morning. You were terrified. It had been 2 very long weeks since they'd kidnapped you and you knew it simply wasn't possible that your distress signal had activated in time. Loki would have found you already, you reasoned.

"Well, well, well. Hello there, little girl. Feeling a bit more cooperative today?" Your kidnapper sneered as he walked in the room.

"You will never get any information from me," You replied coolly. He walked up to you, breathing down your neck, caressing your arms.

"Perhaps a little more persuasion? Everyone has their breaking points. Especially a little whore like you." You fought the urge to pull away, knowing it would only make things worse. They'd put handcuffs on you that blocked your abilities so you had no way to escape.

"No," You said firmly. With that the man threw you against the wall.

"Fine. Have it your way. Boys, you know what to do to her."

Hours later you laid on the floor close to unconsciousness. If you weren't found soon you knew you'd die. Giving into the exhaustion you thought that perhaps that would be better. At least Loki and the Avengers would be safe.

"Y/N? Y/N! Wake up! Please!" You heard a voice calling out to you but everything was fuzzy. You couldn't open your eyes or even move to reply. The voice sounded familiar, safe, but you couldn't think straight. "Sh-she's not responding. She's been injured really badly. W-we need to get her to the healers!"

"I've got her, Loki," Another voice said. "She'll be ok. Tony has the best doctors in the world back at the tower waiting."

"Ok, Steve."

When you finally woke up, the first thing you processed was Loki leaning onto the edge of your bed uncomfortably from his chair while holding your hand. The second thing you processed was the immense pain you felt from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. You gasped harshly as the wave of pain hit you. Loki woke with a start, eyes widening in surprise when he saw you awake.

"You're awake!" He cried, smiling widely. "I'm so happy! Oh darling! I was so worried for you!" At this point he actually was crying, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably.

You hadn't said a word yet before the Doctor and a couple nurses came rushing in. Loki watched worriedly as they rushed around running various tests. Finally they decided that, since you lived in the Tower, you could be released as long as someone cared for you 24/7.

"We're almost there," Loki whispered to you as you rode in the elevator. He had taken it upon himself to watch over you since he was officially your boyfriend. Walking you over to the sofa in his room, he made sure you were comfortable before getting out one of your favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of sweatpants. "I thought you might be more comfortable in these," He said, holding them out to you. You took them abit hesitantly but nodded. You stood and started to pull your shirt off but Loki quickly stopped you. "Woah! Not that I don't-I-well-" He stuttered nervously, taken completely off guard at your actions. "Don't you want to change in the bathroom? Have some privacy?" You looked at him oddly but walked to the bathroom to change. Loki quickly dialled Steve on his phone.

"Hello?"

"Steve, what happened to her while they had her?"

"Well it was obvious they beat and starved her. There was probably some other form of torture but we're not sure."

"Alright," Loki sighed.

"What's wrong? Is she ok?" Steve asked worriedly.

"She's fine. I think. Just acting a little odd."

"Well let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Loki said. Once he hung up the phone he sat on the end of the bed to wait for you. When you came out he smiled brightly and held his hands out to you, inviting you over for a hug. You walked over slowly, leaning into his arms but not hugging him back. "What's wrong darling?" Tears started streaming down your face and Loki tried not to panic. "Talk to me, love," He whispered. He went to kiss your forehead but you flinched, pulling away quickly and curling up into ball on the sofa. He ran over to your side, kneeling on the floor. He wanted to reach out for you but he knew better. "Darling? Can I see what's going on?" He asked, reaching out for your head. You nodded slowly, giving him permission to look into your memories.

About 15 minutes later, Loki finally pulled away. "Oh my love," He whispered, crying himself. "I'm so sorry. You should have never had to go through that. I should have found you sooner."

"No!" You yelled, finally speaking up. "Don't-don't blame yourself."

"Well don't blame yourself either," He cautioned. You nodded slowly.

"I'll try." He held his arms open again and this time you immediately hugged him, holding him as close as possible.

"Come on. Let's get some rest." He carried you over to the bed and pulled the blankets over you. He crawled in next to you carefully and you snuggled up to him.

"Thank you, Loki," You whispered, reaching up to kiss him.

"You're ok with this?" You nodded and kissed him desperately.

"I love you, Loki, so much." You pulled him as close as you could and he chuckled.

"I love you too, Y/N," He smiled, kissing you again. "Now go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." You nodded, wrapping yourself around him tightly.

"Alright, Loki. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my love."

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#lokisses mini series #lokisses #loki #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason

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m-aster-of-spinjitzu · 3 years

Text

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am-

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I- i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black.

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #skybound #ninjago fic #not the best thing i've written #actually it's not great-#but i spent too long on it to not post it so if you actually read to here i simunltaneously wanna send you good vibes & apologize profusely-#the ending is super rushed but im too tired to try and write a better one yay:/#also dang it- sorry this fits the prompt so badly i-#i didn't realize till after oops #ninbingo #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago masters of spinjitzu

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

one of us

a/n: I LIVE! listen. listen. yall know me well enough at this point to know that i make no promises about posting more stuff. i might post something in a few months. maybe next week. lets spin the wheel of fate and see what happens, shall we?

Request: hi!! do you think you could write a prequel of sorts to i don’t need a hero? it’s one of my absolute favorites and i was wondering if you could write something angsty for the mission where the reader gets shot protecting wanda? <33 thank you!!

Word Count: 2546

Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

She hated you.

Wanda Maximoff absolutely, unquestionably, without a doubt hated you. There was not a single thing about you that she didn’t hate, from the stupid cocky look on your face to the way you refused to be of any help. You were supposed to be an ally now, not a nuisance.

And yet there you were.

Sitting across from her at the table and shooting her a look that made her want nothing more than to throw some magic right at your face. If she was lucky then maybe it would even knock you on your ass and she could wipe that stupid smirk from your face. It would almost make this meeting with you worth all the hassle.

“Does everyone understand their jobs?” Maria asked, bringing Wanda back to the table and forcing her to pay attention.

“Blow shit up and have fun doing it?” You asked even though that most certainly wasn’t your job and you knew it.

Don’t let them out of your sight. Maria’s voice rang in Wanda’s mind and, after a silent look, she gave a nod of affirmation. It didn’t seem as if you had noticed, and that gave Wanda a feeling of superiority. Technically it wasn’t a competition, and she already knew she was better than you, but to know that she could scheme about you in front of your face was something that gave her more joy than she would ever openly admit.

The meeting concluded without a hitch. You had even admitted - rather begrudgingly - that you were to do nothing other than keep the attention off of Wanda and Sam. In Wanda’s mind, that was a good start; you usually argued until you were blue in the face.

But with you agreeing, all Wanda had to really worry about was the upcoming mission. And whether you would keep to your word or not.

----------

By all accounts, and much to Wanda’s and Sam’s surprise, the mission had been going well. You had launched fireworks on one end of the building to cause a commotion while they had snuck in through the back. She had used her powers to distract the few guards left inside, and within minutes they had found what they were looking for.

In fact, the mission had been going so well that Wanda had been on the verge of asking if you were okay. There was no way you could have behaved for as long as you had, not without a proper motivation. But right as Wanda had lifted her hand to start her comms, an unusually loud explosion sounded off, quickly followed by guards running and yelling.

Heading in their direction.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Wanda mumbled to herself.

Only seconds after Wanda had muttered her lack of surprise at the situation, the same guards she had heard appeared in the hallway behind them. Directly between them and their exit.

Of course, she heard Sam think. Very loudly.

It turned, very quickly, into an all-out brawl. Unlike you, they didn’t exactly aim to kill; if it was avoidable then they would. But that didn’t mean there weren’t still plenty of bodies lying on the ground, continuously making it harder and harder for them to leave.

“To the roof,” Sam ordered during a short lull in the fighting. “We can get an emergency evac from there.”

And before Wanda knew it, they were once again fighting and trying to make their way up the stairs. It wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world, not with her powers and Red Wing. But that didn’t mean it was easy either.

“Leaving already?” You asked over the comms, causing both Wanda and Sam to roll their eyes at the lack of seriousness in your tone.

“Just get to the roof,” Sam replied shortly, refusing to say anymore on the matter.

“When I’m ready.”

Wanda swore if she hadn’t promised Bucky not to kill you, she would have done it then and there.

It didn’t take long after that for Wanda and Sam to make it to the roof. He told her he was going to fly around and scope a potential landing, and Wanda agreed to hold down the fort until he came back. They both ignored the fact that you were nowhere to be found.

In typical Avengers fashion, the guards came back not long after Sam had left her alone. She wished she could have been surprised, but when it happens nearly every time, it loses it’s shock factor.

But this one was worse than usual; Wanda was, unfortunately, feeling overwhelmed. She knew the horde would run out of bodies eventually, but would that happen before or after Sam showed up? She had no clue, and that was something that terrified her.

Needless to say, she got her answer when an entire army made it up to the roof.

“That’s my cue,” your voice came over the comms, a little too cheery for the situation, but Wanda wasn’t going to answer. At that moment, she hoped you burned along with the rest of them.

An explosion rocked the building underneath her feet, sending more panic racing through her veins. Fucking idiot, she thought, you’re going to destroy the building with us still in it! More explosions followed suit.

“You’d better hurry, Sam, Y/N is gonna blow the building,” Wanda spoke clearly, but rushed. As terrified as she was, she knew it would do no good if Sam didn’t even understand her.

“Just a bit longer, I’m almost there.” She didn’t like that Sam sounded more panicked than her.

“Need a hand?” Your voice came through again, but it was drowned out by a roar that grew increasingly louder.

It was a missile. A missile that was going to hit the roof. The roof that she was standing on.

“Just move!”

Wanda was too transfixed by the missile heading her way to notice someone running toward her. Someone who quickly wrapped their arms around her waist. Her body tensed as her feet were lifted off the ground and she was suddenly launched off the side of the building right as the missile hit the spot where she had previously been standing.

Wind rushed past her ears, along with something that sounded like a scream. She couldn’t tell who it was coming from. The trip to the ground took only a moment, but felt like it was never going to end. Well, not until she forcefully met the ground, that is. The air was knocked out of her lungs and the person on top of her didn’t help.

“Get off me,” she grunted as she pushed the person off and sat up. Only when she was up did she notice it was you, new scratches on your face and blood dripping down your ears.

“You stupid Avengers, always in the way,” you mumbled just loud enough for Wanda to hear. Or maybe it was just muffled because of the deafening ringing in her ears.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Wanda shouted, pushing herself onto her feet and watching as you did the same.

“What do you mean, what was I thinking?” You shot back. “You were the one who didn’t move!”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“You almost got hit! By a missile!”

“And yet you were the one who launched it!” Wanda stepped forward, her finger jabbing into your chest as she talked.

“I saved your life!” You shouted back, throwing your hands up in indignation.

“You pushed me off a building!”

“Don’t criticise me! No one else was helping!”

“I didn’t need help from some wannabe hero!”

“I’m not trying to-” you were cut off by the sound of a gun, and your eyes widening. You both looked down to see a dark red spot near your hip, growing larger by the second.

You hit the ground before she could catch you.

Wanda looked past you to see one lone guard, his shirt still on fire and his skin singed beyond recognition. His arm was still up, gun pointed where you had previously been standing. She didn’t have to bother with finishing him; he collapsed, his body slowly burning.

She crouched down immediately, her hand moving to the spot on your hip. Her hands went to press on it; something she had learned from Maria and Natasha, something she hadn’t thought she would ever really need to know.

You groaned ever so slightly when she pressed harder, but aside from that you were silent and still.

“Coming in hot,” Sam said. She didn’t bother looking up, but felt the wind from Sam and the evac landing behind her.

Sam was quick in assessing the damage. He picked you up and carried you to the quinjet, getting you stabilised for the trip back. Wanda thanked the gods that it would be a short trip.

She hoped you would be okay.

----------

Technically, it wasn’t the worst injury someone had come back from a mission with. Tony always came back with multiple contusions, sometimes broken bones if he had been careless. Natasha and Clint were always a mess, having been absorbed in trying to keep the other safe. Hell, you had come back with worse injuries.

So why this one had taken so much out of you, Wanda had no idea. All she knew was that it had been four days and you were still unconscious. Even the doctors couldn’t understand why you hadn’t woken up. Sure, trauma could keep someone in a coma, but you had seen much worse. So why this one?

“Time for food.”

Bless that man.

Wanda looked up from her book to see Clint leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. A signature look for him, she realised. But she noticed, strangely enough, that he did not come with food. Extremely rude.

“Making me scavenge for myself now?” Wanda teased as she closed her book.

“You could say that,” Clint shrugged. “You gotta get out of here for a few hours, Wanda.”

So that was his purpose.

“Not yet,” she answered simply.

“They haven’t woken up yet, won’t wake up while you’re gone.”

“You don’t know that-”

“-Wanda,” Clint interrupted, “they’re not waking up. Get some food, take a shower, maybe a nap. It’ll be fine.”

She looked over to you and just stared. Your face hadn’t really changed since they had gotten you back to SHIELD. No sounds, no movement, nothing. Maybe there was a new crinkle between your brows, but nothing to really indicate you were going to wake up. No matter how much she wanted you to.

Damn you for making her worry about you of all people.

And damn Clint for being right.

“Two hours.”

“Make it five,” Clint shot back, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Three.”

“Four.”

Damn him.

“Fine. Four. But not a minute more,” Wanda sighed. But, and she hated to admit this, Clint was right; she needed some time to recover. She hadn’t even left herself recover from the mission, instead coming straight to the medical ward with you.

Clint nodded once and waited for her to leave before heading into your room. Sweet of him to take her place while she was resting. It would at least give her some respite to know that someone was watching you while she was gone. Now she just needed to take care of herself and get back.

Well. Maybe after a bath.

----------

“Wanda wake up!”

Not the best way for anyone to wake up from a nap.

Wanda shot up out of bed and tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. She was sure she looked like an absolute mess, and she could feel the knots in her hair. Oh god she felt terrible. Two hours was not enough time for a recovery nap. They better have a good reason for waking her up.

“Good, you’re up,” Clint huffed from the doorway. “Y/N’s gone.”

Okay. Pretty good reason.

She didn’t bother brushing her hair; didn’t even bother changing into clean clothes. It was fine though, she had slept in her mission clothes anyway. What was one more day, right? Besides, it gave her a bit of comfort that she at least wouldn’t be running through the hallways half-naked.

It was, for lack of a better word, pandemonium in the halls. The assumption was that everyone was looking for you; and that assumption was correct. If you hadn’t been such a damn nuisance to SHIELD in the past, maybe they would’ve just let you go.

So really, this was all your fault.

But that didn’t stop Wanda from making her way to where she felt she knew you had gone. There was no proof, but it was a feeling. A feeling that was similar to when she had known whenever Pietro had gotten into trouble. Not quite as strong, because nothing could beat twintuition, but it was still there.

And it was right.

Wanda didn’t know what to really expect you to look like after a few days of rest. But you looked a mess sitting in the dark cell. You were still in your hospital gown, and the gauze was still wrapped around whatever wounds you had sustained. The worst part? You sat curled up in the corner.

“Y/N?” Wanda stepped closer to the cell, but was met with a beeping sound that she was terrifyingly familiar with.

A proximity bomb.

She jumped back and waited for the explosion that never came. Instead, the beeping stopped, and you continued to sit in the corner. Her eyes searched for the bomb, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to find it. If you had hidden it, then you would be the only one who could get to it.

“Everyone is looking for you,” Wanda whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Leave me alone.” Your voice was hoarse, and you let out a series of painful-sounding coughs.

“They’re worried about you.”

“They can worry about themselves,” you shot back, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” Wanda urged. She didn’t like seeing you like this. She hadn’t cared for you much, hadn’t even liked you, but this… this wasn’t you. “What happened?”

And then you turned. She could see the bruises on your face, the bags under your eyes, a look on your face that she couldn’t quite place. But your eyes… your eyes pierced through her soul in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“You fucking heroes happened,” you replied, your eyes never leaving hers. “Couldn’t fucking leave well enough alone, had to bring me into all this fucking mess.”

“Y/N-”

“You wanted me in this fucking cell, now I’m here.” Wanda could tell you were running out of breath. “So leave me the fuck alone.”

With that you turned and stared back at the wall, your back to her. She couldn’t go to you, couldn’t help you. That bomb of yours would blow the both of you up if she got closer. And she just knew you were finished talking to her. You had made your decision, and she would just have to accept it. It seemed the team was right.

You would never be one of them.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #requests #my writing

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sonoftatooine · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021

DAY 4: ‘TRUST FALL’ - TAKEN HOSTAGE

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Wilhuff Tarkin, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Bail Organa (mentioned), Obi-Wan Kenobi (mentioned)

Summary: Rebel AU - Instead of falling to the Dark Side, Anakin resists Palpatine’s manipulations, but not without consequences. With Padmé dead, he flees Coruscant, raising their two children in the fledgling Rebel Alliance. However, Palpatine has not forgotten about them. Several years later, Anakin is presented with an ultimatum - give himself up to the Empire or he’ll never see Luke and Leia again.

***

"Anakin Skywalker."

The voice of Moff Wilhuff Tarkin crackled with static as it was played through the holoprojector Anakin had cradled in his hand, his glitching image another flicker of light against the deep blue of hyperspace beyond the viewport of the ship that he had...borrowed without permission from the hangar of the new rebel base that they had set up less than a week past. By now, the message was as familiar to him as those blue lights outside; he had played and replayed it so many times. Every inflection of that smug voice, every minute change in expression on that gaunt face. But no matter the pain it caused him, he couldn't stop himself from watching it over and over, as if this time it would be...it would be—

He didn't know what it would be.

"The Emperor demands your presence," Tarkin continued. Anakin had to fight the urge to clench his durasteel hand into a fist, to crush the holoprojector into dust, as he had once on Kiros when confronted with the presence of the Zygerrian slaver on the planet. "For too long, you have evaded capture. I'm afraid that ends today."

The image jumped and stuttered as two small figures were pulled into the frame. A sob caught in Anakin's throat. Luke and Leia, their small wrists trapped in Force suppressing cuffs. Luke's eyes were full of tears, Leia's full of fury. But no matter how fierce her glare, he could tell she was terrified. They were both terrified.

"You have three standard days to come to the Mustafar system," Tarkin said, thin lips twisting into a small, cruelly satisfied smile. "Alone, unarmed. If you wish your children to remain unharmed, you will comply. Fail to do so in any regard, and you shall never see them again."

Beside him, the tears in Luke's eyes began to spill out onto his round cheeks as he frantically shook his head. Some of Leia's fear began to melt through her mask of anger, dark eyes widening in alarm as she opened her mouth to scream.

"No, Daddy, no! Don't—"

A snarl from Tarkin and the recording cut off. With a sharp clatter, the holoprojector fell to the floor as Anakin bent over with a wounded cry, burying his face in his hands.

It was his fault. All his fault. When their last base was attacked, his thoughts had only been to get them out, get them away to safety. Bail had had them go with Antilles to the rendezvous point, but Anakin had chosen to stay, to fight, to hold back the troopers long enough to allow them to escape. But in the end, it had done nothing to protect them. Luke and Leia had never arrived there. Antilles had been killed, and his children had been taken. Taken because he hadn't been there to protect them. Because he always made the wrong choice, failed the people he loved most. His mother, Padmé, and now...

And now, Luke and Leia—his precious children that he couldn't lose, not like he had lost their mother—were in the hands of the Empire, and there was only one thing he could do to save them.

One thing which the rest of the Rebel Alliance had deemed unacceptable. Most of them had been sympathetic, of course. Bail had been very kind and understanding after they had received the transmission, even as he had rushed to put himself between Anakin and the door to stop his mad dash to the hangar, no thoughts in his head beyond the need to get to his children, couldn't let them get hurt no matter what the cost. "Anakin," he'd pleaded with him, large hands pressing down on his shoulders to hold him back, and for one horrible moment it had struck him that, despite his size, it would have been so easy to just...swat him aside—this man who dared stand between him and the only option he had of keeping his children safe— "Anakin, please. I know you want to protect Luke and Leia, but giving yourself up to the Empire isn't the answer. That won't help anyone, least of all them." Obi-Wan had tried too, but he hadn't been any help. "You are the Chosen One, Anakin," he'd said. "We cannot risk you falling into the hands of the Sith. We will get your children back, but you mustn't allow your fear for them to cloud your judgement."

Obi-Wan didn't understand. He was hardly about to forget that he was the karking Chosen One when it was the very reason Palpatine had targeted his children—the man who had befriended him and manipulated him for thirteen years in order to shackle his power to him, who had taken Luke and Leia for the same end. As if he could possibly have forgotten what it was he wanted from him, when the memories of it still haunted his nightmares. His cajoling in the blood red office in the Senate Dome morphing into snarling threats as the Jedi Temple burnt around them, and then Padmé—oh Padmé—her life force slipping through his fingers like sand and there was nothing he could do—

But none of that mattered. Not now. Not when it was his children's lives on the line. He wouldn't risk defying him this time. He couldn't.

They'd tried. They'd tried to find a way to free Luke and Leia without giving into the Empire's ultimatum. But what could they do? They had no idea where Tarkin was keeping them, and if he caught the slightest wind that Anakin had not come alone to Mustafar, Force knew what would happen. He couldn't risk that. Though he was no longer naive enough to expect Tarkin to simply let them go if he caved to the demands (he steadfastly ignored the small part of him that always felt that if he had taken up Palpatine's offer, if he hadn't angered him with his refusal, that he might have let—he might have let Padmé—), perhaps he could find a way to escape afterwards. He would find his children and then they would all get away. But he couldn't let Luke and Leia suffer because of him. Couldn't let them be killed or-or spirited away and twisted by the Sith into something terrible because their father had refused to act.

He wouldn't make the wrong choice this time.

He hoped that nobody back at the base had noticed he was missing yet. He had left well past dark, slipping past the people on the night watch and away with ease. As far as Obi-Wan and Bail and everyone else were concerned, he was holed up in his room, not sleeping, not eating, and torturing himself over and over with that kriffing recording. With luck that he wasn't strictly supposed to believe in, they wouldn't go trying to talk to him too soon. If they found out he was gone, if they figured out where he was going and decided to go after him, Tarkin could take that as an attempt to breach the terms of the Empire's ultimatum, and what would happen to Luke and Leia then?

He was brought sharply out of his spiralling thoughts as his ship's console beeped at him. Blinking, he raised his head from his hands. The ship was coming out of hyperspace. Oh Force. Oh Force. He felt sick, deep in his stomach. His hands shook. For a moment, overwhelming fear seized him. The fear he had felt in the Council Chambers of the Jedi Temple all those years ago as he stared into the vicious yellow eyes of a man he had thought was his friend. Fear of everything he could do to him, and worse, to everybody he cared about. He could barely breathe. But he couldn't let himself get trapped in that fear. He had to do this. He had to—

The blue lights dissipated as the ship reverted to realspace, revealing the fiery image of Mustafar on the other side of the viewport before him. Anakin's hands trembled violently as he grasped the ship's controls—so hard that they creaked alarmingly under his mechanical fingers. For Luke and Leia. For Luke and Leia. He could do it for Luke and Leia—

He angled the ship towards the planet, and started the descent down towards the surface.

When he had come here to save the Force sensitive children kidnapped by Cad Bane during the Clone War, he had decided that, if there was a planet in the Galaxy that rivalled Tatooine in awfulness, it was Mustafar. The roaring boom of constant eruptions reverberated as fiercely in the Force as it did in his ears as he manoeuvred the ship to land on the platform adjacent to a shielded facility similar to the one he remembered from the last time he had been to the planet. Reaching out with the his Force senses, he searched for Luke and Leia and found...nothing. He swallowed. He hadn't really expected them to be here—too much of a risk that he would simply kill Tarkin, take them and go. Instead, what he sensed were echoes of fear and death, and a familiar presence that he had hoped never to cross paths with again.

Tarkin was waiting for him.

"General Skywalker." After so many times watching the holorecording over and over again, it was odd hearing his that crisp, clipped voice without static or interference. Anakin levelled the man with the fiercest glower he could muster as he stepped out of the ship. "Good evening."

"Tarkin" Anakin snarled through gritted teeth. It was all he could force out without succumbing to the urge to lash out, to let the terrible power within him that the Emperor so coveted reach out and destroy his servant in the blink of an eye. He would deserve it. Would deserve it for taking his children, for daring to threaten them— But his children were the very reason he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk them. With a great effort, he bridled in his rage.

Tarkin smiled—that thin, pallid twist of the lips that he recognised from the twilight days of the Republic. The burning red light of the lava glinting in his steely eyes made him think of the first time they'd met. Lola Sayu. The Citadel mission. Ahsoka had saved his life then. Briefly, Anakin wondered if it would have been better for all of them if the man had died there and then.

"I knew that you would come." The Force sent a flare of warning through him, and he suddenly became aware of the clanking of plastisteel armour as, at a wordless order from the man in front of him, stormtroopers surrounded him, blasters pointed at his back. "The Emperor has predicted your every move."

Tarkin's tone was unbearably smug. Despite Anakin's silence, despite his rage, the smile never left the man's face. The shadows in the deep hollows of his cheeks and eyes made him look even more gaunt than usual. Like a grinning skull, here to taunt him with his fate.

"And now... Now, there is no escape. For you or your children.”

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claybrownie7566 · 3 years

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Hidden Skies

I was thinking about some fears Sky might have, and I remembered my playthrough of Skyward Sword and how stressful the underground bits were. You had to sneak around and try not to get killed by big scary centipedes, and it's a crawl space, which is terrifying. So anyways I hope you enjoy!

(TW: panic, tight spaces, darkness)

Sky can't go underground, not anymore. When the group is forced into a catacomb of caves, they come to realize that Sky has kept some of the more fearsome pieces of his adventure to himself.

Earth.

It was still so foreign to Sky. The endless expanse of dirt and rock left him speechless. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on it. Trees, hills, ponds and fields as far as the eye could see. He loved it. He poured over the colors and textures around him, his lips unable to conjure words to describe it's beauty.

This was to be their home. This was where it was all going to change.

His quest was difficult to say the least. Constantly, heavy tasks were placed before him, and he accepted and completed them without complaint. Always pushing ahead in hopes of reuniting with Zelda.

And then one day something changed. He remembered it clearly. How the digging claws felt awkward, unnatural and heavy in his hands...

But he had dug none the less. It was the next step in his journey, and he didn't think much of it.

It was so cold.

So dark.

Nightmares lurked in that darkness. Centipedes with explosive ends and cutting, biting, shredding mandibles and beady black eyes.

And then he was trapped. The way in and out blocked and sealed until he had conquered the monstrosities.

He had been buried alive. The suffocating weight and chill of the underground never left him, and he refused to go anywhere he couldn't see the sky or feel the air.

His new adventure proved, so far, to be one of open lands and roaming freely across them. The monster attacks were never welcome, nor the shadow they were chasing, but Sky would be fine as long as they stayed on the surface.

So, he never complained. He never felt the need to. There was no reason for that fear to return.

And then they reached Hyrule's goddess forsaken kingdom, and every courageous painting Sky had conjured up for himself dissolved into pure ashen terror.

Rain poured from the sky, cold and wet and gray. Twilight held his lantern aloft as they all looked for shelter.

"Rule? Are you sure there's somewhere nearby? We've been walking for almost an hour" the rancher asked.

Hyrule's eyes were focused on a shape in the distance, his arm raises to shield his eyes from the pelting rain.

"Up ahead" he said with a nod, "there are some caves and a path through the mountain."

Sky swallowed down his mild panic.

It's ok. It's just a cave. It'll be just fine.

The closer they got to the mountain, the worse it looked. The mass of rock and dirt ahead was more of a hill than a mountain, especially compared to Wild's ranges. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder made the ground tremble beneath their boots.

The mouth of the cave was a sight for sore eyes. At least, that's what everyone else saw. Twilight forged ahead, leading their tired troop out of the cold.

This isn't so bad, Sky thought as he followed the warm glow of the lantern inside. This is just another shelter. Nothing at all to be-

"We could make it through the mountain by nightfall if we want somewhere better to stay tonight" Hyrule said.

Time thought for a moment, and Sky prayed to the goddess he wouldn't say yes.

"How far is it to the other side?"

Hyrule tilted his head, tracing a finger in the air like he was drawing a map in it.

"it's about a two hour walk" he said finally.

There was a splash as Legend emptied the water from his boots, "are there monsters along the way?"

"There shouldn't be" Hyrule replied, "I go through here a lot, and I've never seen more than a stray bokoblin or two. It is a bit of a sketchy path though. The tunnels don't go straight through, they're twisty. I'd have to remember the way."

"Are you confident you could do that?" Warriors asked.

"Course I can! What do you take me for?" the traveler replied, crossing his arms.

Wild snorted.

"It's settled then. Let's get a move on" Four said, "I want to be somewhere that isn't here."

Busy chatter filled the small cave opening, and Sky felt his heart stop. Dread rose up from his toes, filling his entire body and traveling up to the top of his head. He felt sick looking at the dark tunnel in front of him.

And he was back in those crawl spaces all over again.

Hot, blinding flashes burned his eyes, the intense darkness that once filled his vision was painfully blasted away. Serrated mandibles sliced and bit at his flesh as he crawled away desperately searching for a way out.

Sky tried to keep his breaths shallow, his lungs drawing in the stale air, suffocating him further.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped up, locking with Twilight's.

"Sky? You've been awfully quiet and you just got really pale. We are about to head into the tunnels, are you alright?"

The rancher's voice was kind and full of thought, like he was deciding how to proceed with the conversation.

Sky shook his head, his voice small.

"I-I can't go in there....I can't."

The others began walking ahead, leaving Sky and Twilight in the pale lantern light.

"it'll be ok. I've got plenty of lantern oil, and it's not too long of a walk through. Come on, let's walk together." Twilight smiled, and Sky felt the panic in his bones lift ever so slightly. With one last deep breath, he followed his friend into the darkness.

**************

They had been walking for over an hour. Sky stayed close to Twilight and his lantern, trying not to let the others see his heart fail him.

There was quiet chatter across the group. Nothing special, just light easy-coming conversation. An occasional detour from Hyrule allowed them all to stop and rest while he checked various paths and dead ends.

Sky didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. They should nearly be to the other side shouldn't they? Were they lost?

Sky's thoughts were cut short as rapid footsteps neared. Hyrule bolted around the corner out of nowhere, slamming directly into Twilight.

Sky heard glass shatter, then was blind.

The darkness was so intense he thought he would suffocate right then and there. All the panic and terror he had been repressing broke free and he gasped.

His eyes widened and he began to stumble toward the wall of the tunnel, feeling it and running his hands over it, searching for an invisible door to the outside.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, as he dug his fingers into the dirt, scratching at the surface trying in vain to escape.

"No" he muttered, "no no NO! NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!"

There were worried voices near him, but he couldn't hear them. He banged his fists against the dirt until they were raw, and when he couldn't get through he started to run.

More voices called to him in the dark, but he didn't care. He was going to die. His eyes, still unadjusted to the fresh darkness burned with hot, terrified tears.

He ran, tripping blindly across the tunnel, his heart screaming for a way out, any way it could find. When his search proved to be in vain, Sky fell to his knees. He clamped a hand over his mouth to constrict his airflow. Conserving oxygen was the only thing that mattered now.

The sky...the light...I can't find it.

Small, rough hands gripped his wrists, and Sky cried out, nearly falling backwards.

"Sky! Sky it's me!" Wind spoke with firmness, but gentleness also, beckoning Sky to focus on him.

Another pair of hands wrapped around him from behind. Soft fur brushed the back of Sky's neck.

The sailor kept his hold on the Sky's wrists, and continued to speak.

"Sky, the lantern was dropped. That's all. You're safe. You're safe and we've got you."

He nearly stopped breathing entirely. There were nine of them trapped in here. There wouldn't be enough air. They would all suffocate. His body shook violently, his breaths barely entering his lungs.

Wind's young, familiar voice spoke again, jarring Sky back to reality.

"Hey, take a deep breath and listen to me."

"Can't" Sky breathed, "no air....suffocate....suffocate."

The arms around his loosed ever so slightly, allowing his chest to rise and fall more easily. It took every ounce of control Sky had to keep his breaths shallow.

"Sky, there is plenty of air. We are in a tunnel, and there is a big opening behind us, and one not too far ahead. Do you feel the air?"

Sky focused on the air around him, a light current swept across his cheek. Relieved beyond belief, he filled his lungs, and sank into the arms around him.

"I know it's dark, but we have other lanterns. It'll be light, and then we will get out of here okay?" Wind kept his voice steady, running his thumbs across the inside of Sky's wrists reassuringly.

Twilight's arms tightened around him, and began lifting him to his feet. He stood, though his body protested. Once on his feet he tried to catch his breath. He took it slow, listening to Wind and taking in huge lungfulls of air at a time.

Twilight released his hold on their friend, keeping a hand supportively on his shoulder.

A small scraping sound came from their left, followed by the growing light of a new lantern. Sky took in the sights around him, relieved to be able to see again. Eight compassionate faces lit up around him.

Sky felt heat rise to his cheeks. He didn't like showing fear, even in a group full of people just like him.

"Sky?"

The hero turned, meeting Hyrule's kind eyes.

"I'm sorry I broke the lantern. I was just trying to hurry. The way out isn't much farther, we can be out soon if we hurry."

Sky nodded, rubbing his tired eyes.

There was a groan behind him and everyone turned.

"Hylia above I hate the underground. I think I speak for everyone on that. It's always the worst, let's get out of here" Legend said.

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Sky could feel his fear dissipate instantly. He was with his friends, and they were going to get out together.

Hyrule led the way, and everyone walked with purpose, trying to leave the tunnels behind them as fast as possible.

Wind slipped his hand into Sky's in the dull light, leaving the latter feeling safe and comfortable in a place he never thought he could be.

When the end finally came, the heroes sprinted out the other side. The sky was on fire with the glowing sun after a storm. Sky smiled as Time and Four lifted their faces to the sky, taking in big fresh breaths of clean Spring air. The others did the same, basking in the freedom of the open World.

Wind leaned against Sky's side. The little sailor looked much more grown up to him in that moment.

"I feel the same way about underground you know" Wind whispered, "I've never been trapped there, but I need somewhere open. Somewhere I can see the sky and feel the wind."

Sky's heart burst, and he smiled fondly at his companion. He wrapped and arm across Wind's shoulders and pulled him into a side hug.

"Thank you for lending me your bravery back there. And for the record, I don't think we are the only ones that love being free."

Wind laughed as they watched Warriors and Wild sprawl out on the grass.

"No we are not."

#linked universe #linked universe fic #LU Sky #LU Wind

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

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Irresistible Danger - Part 55

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,953

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Testing Boundaries

When you arrived at the kitchen a few hours later for dinner prep, you were surprised to find Ben conspicuously absent. At first you worried that he was afraid to show his face after being caught with Simon last night, but the staff member named Andrew informed you that he had temporarily stepped out when one of Negan’s men came in and said he needed Ben’s assistance with something. When Andrew verified the man’s identity as “the big smiley one with the mustache”, you had a feeling you knew just what kind of “assistance” had been needed. You weren’t even upset about it, because truth be told, Ben deserved some breaks from the kitchen. And you had a feeling that Simon possessed just enough carefree attitude and allure to make sure Ben got them.

With the rest of the staff busy at their various tasks, and without Ben there as a distraction, you quickly became consumed with thoughts of your earlier conversation with Maria. She had made it seem as though Amber had been subdued, at least temporarily, and the rest of the wives weren’t in an uproar over the lack of attention from Negan, but the fact that a conversation about you had occurred at all put you a bit on edge. It was now obvious to the wives that you were the reason for Negan’s change in behavior, and you wondered how long it would take for that to leak to the rest of the community. And when that happened, people were sure to wonder and speculate, right? Hell, you had a bunch of questions still, and you were the one personally involved in the situation!

By the time the first round of food was exiting the kitchen and being served to hungry patrons, your brain was starting to ache from how much that padlocked box of unanswered questions was jumping around, screaming to be opened and explored. You knew it couldn’t be ignored for much longer, but were terrified of what you might find if you let it loose. You already knew you were developing an emotional attachment to Negan, but if you opened that padlock and really took a look at the items inside, you might realize just how strong the emotions waiting to be uncovered really were. Hell, you had almost stupidly blurted some of what you were feeling out in the woods yesterday, and had barely caught yourself in time.

Besides, the scariest part of opening that box wasn’t just looking at your own emotions and asking the tough questions, it was then also having to see what his responses would be.

Well the unknown is almost worse, so it’s time to suck it up and have a serious conversation with him about where all of this is going. Ask him about if he’s keeping his wives, admit you know he hasn’t been sleeping with them, and see what he says. Worst case scenario he laughs in your face, sends you away, and never speaks to you again. Easy peasy.

Just as you were about to work up to a full internal panic attack at the thought of discussing it with him, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and Ben appeared. To anyone else he’d probably look the same as usual, but as he headed in your direction you could see a slight flush to his cheeks and a couple pieces of hair that were suspiciously more disheveled than usual.

“I’m so sorry for missing prep,” he said by way of greeting, looking a bit tense, as if unsure how you’d treat him after the previous evening.

“Don’t apologize for things if you don’t actually regret them,” you teased with a smirk and playful shake of your head, voice low enough so that only he could hear.

He choked on a laugh, shoulders visibly relaxing when he realized that nothing had changed between the two of you, and there was zero need for formality or awkwardness.

Nudging you with his shoulder, he said, “Thanks.” It was one simple word, but the slightly shaky and whispered tone let you know how much emotion was behind it.

A surge of protectiveness surged in you. If it hadn’t been apparent before how willing you were to Ricardo death-stab anyone who tried to make fun of or harm Ben, it definitely was now. He was one of the sweetest humans you had ever met, and Simon better treat him right or else he’d be dealing with you and your pointy sidekick.

“So, uh, what kind of ‘assistance’ did he need your help with?” You tried for cool and casual, but couldn’t totally hide a teasing grin.

“Oh, nothing much. He just needed a bit of a hand with something, if you know what I mean.”

At the look of surprise on your face, he started laughing loud enough to draw a few curious gazes from the others. “Besides that, he was letting me know he wouldn’t be around for a day or two.”

Brows furrowing, you asked, “Is Negan sending him back to an outpost?”

“No, he’s joining the supply run tomorrow.”

At this, you jolted with a different kind of surprise. “They’re going on a run tomorrow?”

“Yea, but I think it was a spur of the moment decision. He didn’t give me any details, but I got the sense that it hadn’t been planned in advance.”

You nodded, “That makes sense.” If Negan had planned this run before today, he’d have most likely told you...right?

“I’m sure he’d have told you if he knew,” Ben said, as if he were reading your thoughts.

“Yea, you’re probably right,” you said, deciding to make that the one thing you didn’t need to overanalyze to death. Instead, you felt a pang in knowing that he wouldn’t be here for a couple of days. You had really been enjoying all this one-on-one time with him, even though it was unrealistic to expect it to last forever.

You wanted to ask Ben more questions about Simon, but didn’t want to risk any other staff overhearing. Vowing to sit him down outside the kitchen and get all the details in the near future, you refocused on serving dinner. Both brain and body were kept busy for the next few hours with making sure everyone got a serving of food, including the staff and yourself, and then helping with the clean-up.

It wasn’t until you were back upstairs, lounging in your own bed, that you returned to the dilemma of what to do next. Originally, you had planned to start a conversation with Negan about the wife situation, but now you didn’t think the timing was right. If he was going on a run tomorrow then he needed a clear head and to focus on staying safe, not be preoccupied with your concerns and questions. Especially since you didn’t know if asking about the wives would lead to an argument, and you definitely didn’t want to be on bad terms when he left.

Seeing him tonight and trying to act like your brain hadn’t been a whirlwind of confusing thoughts all day sounded exhausting as hell. But not seeing him and then something potentially happening to him on the run…

You had stood from the bed and headed towards the door before the thought could even finish itself. Nope, there was no way you weren’t gonna go see him, even if it was just for a little bit before returning to your own room for the night. Your watch said it was almost 8:30, so you had a little time before he’d probably be winding down for the night, since chances were good they’d leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

No community members paid you much attention when you headed to the stairwell, but when you got to the top and entered the hall leading to Negan’s room, your stomach dropped at the sight of a small group of Saviors walking down the hall in your direction.

You guessed that they were the group going on the run tomorrow, and had just come from a meeting in one of the unoccupied rooms on this floor. While you were unsure whether to turn around and hightail it back downstairs, your subconscious kept marching forward, no fucks to give that you could be accused of trespassing on a level where community members weren’t supposed to wander.

When they got closer, you saw a couple of the Saviors give furrowed looks, and one even opened his mouth as if to reprimand you.

“Hey, you can’t just be-“

He was interrupted when another man clapped a large hand on his shoulder, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. Relief flooded through you at the sight of Simon.

“Now now, Ryan. Don’t you know that this little lady here gets a free pass? Negan’s orders, so don't forget.”

Face instantly becoming less hostile, the man gave a nod of understanding and a quick, “Apologies, Miss,” as they passed. Simon gave a signature wink and grin, and you forced a smile in return, brain still preoccupied with his words.

Had Negan really told them that you were to be allowed up here? If so, did that mean he didn’t care if they knew you and him were...whatever you were? Your subconscious was now skipping with glee rather than marching, and your brain gave an exasperated sigh and glared at you while tossing yet another question into the padlocked box.

Arriving at Negan’s door, you gave a soft knock and then opened it at his muffled, “Come in.” He was sitting at his desk with those nerdy, yet also sexy as hell, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he shuffled through a stack of papers.

He looked up, and your heart rate accelerated when he smiled in welcome and said, “Hey, doll.”

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, smiling back.

He pulled off the glasses (lord, why was that move so damn attractive?!) before rubbing at his tired eyes. Pushing the chair back a bit, he gave you a slow once over before clapping a hand to his knee expectantly.

Unlike when he had last made the gesture, the evening you ate lasagna together, this time you didn’t hesitate. Rounding the desk, you settled onto his warm lap and tilted your head back with a satisfied hum when he placed a possessive kiss on your lips.

Glancing at the papers strewn across the polished wooden surface, you saw that they were full of lists and numbers, most likely of supplies. He nuzzled at the side of your neck, the friction from his beard causing a little shudder to go down your spine. Your brain rattled the padlocked box in annoyance, narrowly avoiding the tomato thrown at it by your subconscious.

The reminder helped you refocus on how you had earlier decided not to have sex with him tonight. Not with all the questions and uncertainty floating around your head, and especially not when he needed to be well-rested and undistracted, in preparation for the run. But then the self-doubt creeped in and whispered, What if he decides to go find comfort elsewhere, if you won’t give it to him? He’s already had you and the chase is over, so what makes you think he’ll stay if you backtrack into more platonic interactions?

Your brain picked up the tomato and chucked it at the self-doubt, while the subconscious screamed in excitement at the prospect of a food fight. You tried to ignore all of them and refocus on Negan. Besides, while a risky move, you couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be when denied sex, something you bet he never had worried about with his wives.

“I heard you’re going on a run tomorrow,” you stated, trying not to let all of the conflicting emotions racing through you bleed into your tone.

Giving a sigh, he lifted his mouth from your neck, and you instantly wanted to take back your words at the loss. “Yea, gonna leave at 5 in the fucking morning to make a surprise trip to fucking Hilltop and see what’s up with that motherfucker, Gregory.”

Hearing the irritation in his voice, you asked “Has he been giving you problems?”

“You could fucking say that. Didn’t fully meet his quota the last two times, so this is his third time’s the fucking charm chance to make up for it.”

Worry shot through you at this, remembering in the past when Negan had said Simon got a weird feeling about Gregory. You weren’t sure if the man was conniving or just plain dumb to be fucking with Negan’s supply rules like this, but it put you on edge.

“Well, just be careful,” you couldn’t help but say, looking up into his handsome-as-hell face.

He chuckled and bent down to kiss you again, murmuring, “Don’t fucking worry, doll. Nothing could keep me from coming back now.”

You wanted so badly to give in, to respond to the kiss in full and let it escalate. His words warmed your chest at the thought of being his main reason for returning safely. You wanted to be his main everything, the way he was quickly becoming yours. You were falling for this man, but were scared to completely let go until a serious discussion was had...after he returned from the run.

With one last lingering peck, you pulled back and reluctantly stood off his lap. “Well, it’s getting late so I should probably get back to my room.”

“What?” he asked, voice instantly stern and brows lowered in confusion.

“You need sleep before the run, and I’ll just be a distraction. I could set an alarm and come see you off in the morning, if you want.”

The hope that he’d be placated by what you thought was a logical argument was quickly dashed when he replied, “I think fucking not.”

“Negan, you need-”

He abruptly stood, and before you could even process what he was about to do, you were hoisted up and over his shoulder, head hanging down his back and ass in the air as he strode across the office and into his dark bedroom.

“What the hell!” you shrieked, lightly smacking his back with the palm of your hand.

Kicking the bedroom door shut behind him, he took a few steps into the room before putting you down. The room was only lit by a few stray moonbeams, but you swore there was mirth dancing in the shadows of his amber gaze, which only made you more flustered.

“I cannot believe you just did that!” you exclaimed, readjusting the bottom of your shirt where it had ridden up.

“Well, maybe now you’ll fucking learn not to try and tell me what I need, doll.”

“Everyone needs sleep,” you fired back with a glare. You were just miffed enough at being manhandled to act petulant, even if the move had also been kinda hot, in a primitive sort of way.

“What I need, is for you to get in the fucking bed,” he growled.

A wave of heat poured over you at the words, and your brain stopped working in full sentences due to the amount of blood flow that had rapidly traveled south.

“But...sleep,” you tried one more time, frantically trying remind your body of the ‘no sex tonight’ rule.

Giving a ‘holy mother of god woman why are you like this’ level of sigh, he said, “Yes, doll, I’ll fucking sleep. But I can still do that with you here. So get in. The. Fucking. Bed.”

Realizing resistance was futile, you threw your hands in the air and muttered ‘fine’ before stripping off your shoes and jeans, and crawling between the covers. You pointedly left on your underwear and shirt, a nonverbal reminder that sleep was on the menu, and no more...no matter how much your body was screaming that it hated you for denying it.

In unspoken agreement, Negan stripped down to just his boxer briefs, rather than his usual bed attire of naked, and crawled under the covers. Pulling you into his body, back to his chest, his head rested a few inches behind yours. He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, and biting your lip was all that held back a whimper.

“You better fully wake me up in the morning, so I can say goodbye,” you mumbled, the decadently soft mattress and pillow quickly putting you into a drowsy haze.

The hand he had rested lightly on your hip gave an affectionate squeeze, and he whispered, “I will. Now stop talking, doll. I need sleep, remember.”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his tone, you snuggled back tighter against him, and sighed in contentment. “Good night.”

His voice lost all teasing and became lower and softer when he replied, “Night, doll.”

Smiling, your muscles relaxed into the mattress. It wasn’t until you were cocooned back in this glorious bed with him that it became apparent just how exhausted you were. The mental gymnastics your brain had gone through today had thoroughly worn you out. However, a part of that persistent self-doubt had now broken off and shriveled up to dust when it saw that Negan was perfectly willing to have you in his bed like this, with no sexual expectations. If you could stay awake long enough to fully think it through, you’d be shocked as hell that he hadn’t pushed. The fact that he hadn’t even brought up sex, that he still wanted you here with him, even just to do this…

Your last coherent thought was maybe he’s falling for you too, and then sleep took over.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#ash writes #negan #irresistible danger #negan fanfiction #negan fanfics #negan slow burn #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfics #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #the walking dead negan #slow burn #fanfic

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unnecessarywriting · 3 years

Text

Wait, Wrong Holiday - Sirius Black

Request: Could you possibly write a really angsty into fluff young Sirius story? Reader is close family friends with James’ family so they celebrate Christmas together, with Sirius and the person awkwardly avoiding each other until late Christmas night maybe when he confesses his feelings? Change as you want but something like that? Thanks so much in advance, I love your writings!! And merry Christmas :)

A/N: I hope I did a good job with this and that you liked it. Merry Christmas and Enjoy!!

Italics are flashbacks

Wait, Wrong Holiday

You and James were told for most of your lives that you were made for each other. What did this mean exactly? Well, your parents wanted the two of you to get married so they could all become one big, happy family. The problem? You and James never thought of each other romantically. In fact, the idea almost disgusted both of you. There are times when people who grow up together see themselves as the ideal couple, but in your case, it felt wrong. The two of you could only see each other as siblings, and you were fine with that. Your parents were beginning to get around to that idea too, but it's not like they were ever forcing you to marry him.

You were sorted into Y/H and you often found yourself finding James at random times. He always watched out for you, and he even studied with you. You both found your own friend groups in no time, but the two of you always remained close. Sometimes, you would see him with his friends, and you would wave towards him. This managed to catch the eye of one Sirius Black.

“Prongs, who is that girl waving at you?” James turned his head in the direction Sirius was pointing to.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. We grew up together. Our families are really good friends, so we’ve spent a lot of time together.” James smiled at you and waved back. You returned to what you were doing before.

“Good to know,” Sirius commented. James glared at him.

“No Padfoot. Y/N is good. Don’t go thinking you can just use her. She’s too good for that.” Sirius took that comment as you were off limits, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated by you.

The close relationship between your families meant that every year you would spend Christmas together. When Sirius ran away from home and took shelter with the Potter family, he was invited to the gathering between the families. This was unknown information. You had wished that when you walked through the door of the Potter household you were aware of this guest. Your parents chose to not disclose this information. They were more than excited to have another guest, especially someone who shared their ideals. A pure blood who hated what purebloods stand for? They knew he would fit right in, especially since your family wasn’t too fond of the other Blacks.

The issue with Sirius Black? He was spectacular. When you heard about him leaving his family, you were ecstatic because you had met the Black family, and you were not impressed. Oftentimes, you would get lost in his beautiful eyes. You melted at his voice, but you knew he was untouchable. Every girl at Hogwarts wanted to be with him, and if rumors were true, quite a few of them had first hand experience. You had no chance with him, so you tried to stay away from him as much as possible. Not because he was bad, but because you knew that there was no way that he could ever see you as anything more than just some girl that James happened to know.

Sirius was terrified to see you standing at the door with your family. James had told him that you were going to be there, as it was a tradition, but that didn’t stop any nervousness he had. From the day he saw you wave at James, he had been infatuated. He learned a lot about you from stories and from studying. He watched you all of the time. Sometimes, he would try to invade your study sessions with James, but then you stopped going to them, claiming that there were other friends that needed your help. James thought that it was true, but Sirius believed that you had some sort of hatred for him, probably because of his family, and that you couldn’t stand to be around him. Of course, he was only half right.

“Hello Mr. Potter and Happy Christmas!” You gave the man a hug and entered what you considered your home away from home. “Mrs. Potter! It’s great to see you. Happy Christmas!” You offered the woman a hug. James walked towards you after greeting your parents and pulled you into a great embrace. “Happy Christmas James,” you mumble as he was practically squeezing the life out of you.

“Merlin woman. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages since you stopped studying with me. We hardly spend any time together.” You laughed awkwardly not wanting to cue him to how you were avoiding him because of his friend.

“Nonsense. You’re just being dramatic, as per usual.” You caught Sirius off to the side. You nodded in his direction. “Happy Christmas Sirius. It’s great to have you here.” You tried not to sound too robotic. Soon enough, your mother saw him and he was no longer your problem.

You spent as much time as you could away from Sirius. He seemed to be avoiding you as well. You thought Sirius was judging you for not being good enough for him, plus, you didn’t want him to talk to you and find you the most boring or most annoying person in the world. You spent a lot of your time in the kitchen preparing dinner. The only time you would leave was to give something to Mr. Potter or to your father. Sirius was also keen on not being around you. If it appeared like you would be with the men for long, he would retreat to the restroom for a bit. He truly believed that you had something against him, but he also couldn’t get close to you because of James. He thought that you were completely off limits, so he didn’t even bother trying to get close to you.

James was becoming a bit suspicious of your behavior, but he kept it to himself. You typically loved to listen to the stories shared between your fathers, but you seemed adamant on being with the women in your families. He almost began to think something was wrong with him. James also didn’t miss the change in behavior of his closest friend. Everytime you walked into the room, Sirius avoided eye contact and became silent, which was unusual for him. James thought he knew what was going on, but he was unbelievably wrong.

After a very uncomfortable dinner with you and Sirius both being unusually absent from the conversation, James pulled Sirius aside.

“Did you ignore me and sleep with Y/N? C’mon Sirius, I asked you not to. She deserves so much more than that.” James looked both annoyed and disappointed.

“Prongs, I didn’t sleep with her. I wouldn’t do that to you, or to her. Plus, you told me not to go anywhere near her, which might I say, is very difficult to do. She’s perfect you know? I wish everyday that you didn’t make that rule.” Sirius didn’t even realize that he just confessed how much he really liked you.

“Wait, do you actually like her? I don’t mean the way that you like girls to just sleep with them, but that you want to actually have something with her?” James was almost excited at the idea of having two of his best friends get together. If you weren’t going to marry James, then Sirius was the next best thing, only if he was being serious about it though.

“I do, but that doesn’t change anything. You told me that she was off limits, so I am staying away from her. Also, I don’t think she likes me anyway. She probably thinks I’m just like my family.” Sirius pouted.

“First off, Y/N would like you more for getting away from your family. Yes, she hates your family but she even told me that she was proud of you for escaping and doing what was best for you. Second, I never said she was off limits. I said that she wasn’t someone you could just sleep with and ditch. She’s not like all of those other girls that you have hanging around you. If you really like her, then say something to her. I think it would be good for both of you. But let me say this. If you do or say anything to her that breaks her heart, I will not hesitate to hex you into oblivion.” Sirius was excited beyond belief to know that he had permission to talk to you for real. He just needed to get you to his side.

It turns out, you were not someone who was willing to be close to Sirius. This was incredibly irritating to him as well as James. He caught wind of how hard you were avoiding Sirius, and he wasn’t about to have you get away with. He told Sirius that he would talk to you later that night. Luckily, your family was staying the night, and he would have plenty of time with you. He soon pulled you aside to have a word with you, much like he did with Sirius not too long before.

“What’s going on? Why don’t you want to be around Sirius?”

“What are you talking about? I don't have a problem with him.” You weren’t even convincing yourself of that lie.

“What did he do wrong?” James sounded genuinely concerned.

“Fine, but you can’t say anything about this to anyone.” James nodded. “I’ve kinda had some sort of a small, tiny, nearly nonexistent, crush on him. The issue is that I’m nothing like the other girls he has around him all of the time. I don’t want him to get to know me and find me completely annoying or worse, boring.”

Your honesty hurt James. He thought you were incredibly interesting. You had fun stories to tell, and you were known for going on adventures all of the time. Maybe they weren’t as obnoxious as the ones that he had, but you were far from boring. Not to mention, you didn’t have an annoying bone in your body. If anyone was annoying, it was him, or even Sirius.

“Listen, just give him a chance all right. You’re absolutely amazing, and Sirius can see that. Plus, if he says anything to you, I will hex him into oblivion. Trust me, he knows.” You took his word for it, but the opportunity didn’t seem to come your way.

Everyone decided to go to be slightly early since the firewhiskey had been passed around. You, however, couldn't fall asleep. You got up and made your way to the kitchen to make yourself some hot chocolate.

“Hey there!” The voice startled you.

“Oh, hey Sirius. Couldn’t sleep?” He nodded. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Yes please!” You offered a polite smile and finished with two cups. You both sat on the couch drinking in silence.

“Hey, look!” He pointed to the window. “It’s snowing!” You smiled at him and returned your gaze to the falling snow. “C’mon.”

“What do you mean? I’m not going out there. It’s late.” He laughed at you and pulled you out the front door.

You two started throwing snow at each other. You were running around like idiots and giggling like children, although, you constantly tried to shush him because of the time.

“Y/N, I like you. I like you a lot, and I want to get to know you on a proper date. So, will you go on a date with me?” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Are you serious? You know what,” you started quickly, “don’t answer that. Yes, I will go on a date with you.” He laughed and picked you up. He spun you around in the falling snow, as you two continued to giggle. You both had James to thank for you two finally getting over your stupidity.

From the window, James was watching his two friends run around through the front yard. He giggled to himself, proud of his work. He had a strong suspicion that the two of you were going to be amazing together.

“Well, call me Cupid because I am the best match-maker the wizarding world has ever seen.” James paused for a second. “Wait, wrong holiday.” He laughed to himself and went to lay down and wait for Sirius to return and tell him everything that just happened.

#young sirius x reader #young sirius imagine #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter imagine #james potter imagine #marauders imagine

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mask-of-anubis · 3 years

Note

1 with Nina and Jerome 🙌

This took me so long to get to but here it is! (other asks are coming soon, I promise!)

“Nina asks Jerome to do something ‘no questions asked’ and Jerome fears the worst.”

____________________________________________

Anubis House, 9pm.

As a matter of principle, Jerome liked to stay as far away from Nina Martin and her trail of bad luck as much as possible. He learned that lesson early on, but that didn’t mean he stuck to it. He always seemed to get involved with her Scooby gang eventually, even if he didn’t mean to. They were nothing but trouble, and he had more than enough of his own.

So when his phone rang at 9pm one night and he saw her contact name, he almost chucked his phone under his bed. Against his better judgement though, he answered it.

“Is this a butt dial?” he asked, hoping to quickly communicate that a call at this time of night (when she was right upstairs, mind you) was not welcome.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” she said, cutting right to the chase.

“I’m sorry?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I need you to do something for me ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

Jerome stopped. “Absolutely not...” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You owe me a ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

“I do not…” Jerome scoffed, but she once again interrupted.

“Valentine’s Day, last year,” she said. “Need I remind you?”

“Okay! Okay, I remember,” he said quickly. Ugh. Why the hell did he ask her of all people to help? He had hoped she would forget and never cash in, but apparently today was the day.

He couldn’t believe he was on the hook for a girl who had even more enemies and sketchy night activities than he did. It was equally likely she would ask him to help her find a nerdy signed book as a present for Fabian as it was that she would ask for help burying a body. He hoped for the former.

There was nothing he could do. A “no questions asked” was binding at Anubis. He was indebted and it was time to cash in.

He sighed. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Meet me in the Frobisher Library, 11pm. Bring your noise-cancelling headphones, a headlamp, and a trowel,” Nina said. The second she was done talking, she hung up.

“God dammit…” said Jerome.

____________________________________________

Frobisher Library, 11pm.

“We better not be burying a body, Martin,” said Jerome three hours later when he walked into the library and found her sitting in the dark with a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” said Nina.

“Despite what you might’ve heard, I pay my debts,” he said.

He gestured to his equipment. “What’s all this for then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I meant what I said: no questions. Let’s go.”

She walked over the bookshelf and pressed the button to make it swing open. Great, Jerome thought. He didn’t know what he expected when she asked him to meet there of all places, but he had hoped going down into the tunnels wasn’t on the agenda.

There was still time to escape. But at what cost? If he ran now, Nina would undoubtedly spill the details of his humiliating Valentine’s “no questions asked.” He really couldn’t live with that. He sucked it up and followed her inside.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:15pm.

Down in the tunnels, it was worse than Jerome remembered. Granted, the only time he’d ever been down there was when he was running for his life, so he hadn’t taken his time to peruse.

It was also freezing. He rubbed his arms as he trailed behind Nina, wondering how she wasn’t shivering.

It was true what everyone said about her; she really was unphased by stuff like this: subterranean tunnels, deadly tasks, et cetera. She’d changed since last year. She was always a bit of a daredevil, but he remembered her in the history classroom, shaking with fear, tearful at the thought of their teachers tipping the scales.

Now though, she walked past chilling stone rooms haunted by the ghosts of deadly tasks completely steady, jaded even. Speaking of ghosts, from the rumours Jerome heard, Nina spoke to spirits regularly, like it was normal. She kind of terrified him.

He was really scared of whatever she was leading him to. After all, they didn’t have the best track record in their relationship. He’d betrayed her when her life was at stake, not once, but two times. Granted, both times he didn’t know her life was at stake, but it didn’t make it any better really. Plus, Nina notoriously held grudges. He just hoped she wasn’t leading him to his doom.

“Okay, here it is,” she said finally.

She stopped in front of a dusty trap door. It looked like an ancient air vent. Jerome looked around; this couldn’t be what she meant.

She opened the hatch door and crouched down. Jerome peaked inside. It was pitch dark. He switched on the headlamp and shined it inside.

“Oh god…” he said. Behind the door was a long, dark, dusty tunnel that, for all he knew, led straight to the depths of hell. In the quiet between each of their breaths, he could hear a distant, dull roar coming from inside.

Nina tied her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, I need the stuff you brought,” she said, holding out her hand. She strapped the headlamp to her forehead, tucked the trowel into her back pocket, and put the headphones around her neck.

“If you hear me screaming, don’t panic,” she said – easily the most alarming thing anyone had ever said to him. “I won’t really be in danger. The only time you’re allowed to come in and help me, is if you see the walls collapsing.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jerome said. “This is insane! What the hell are you doing in there?”

“You’re on a strictly need-to-know basis,” Nina said. He dropped it. He knew no amount of questioning would make her budge.

He also knew something else: if he left right now and refused to help, she would 100% do whatever it is she’s doing on her own. That was how they were the same; they were both stubborn, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. The least he could do was stay there and make sure she didn’t self-destruct.

“Fine,” he said. He had so many bad feelings about this — about why they were here in the dead of night, about why she asked him of all people, about what was in that tunnel, and about what the hell she had in that satchel.

As she steeled herself to enter, he got his answer to the last question. The flap of her bag shifted and Jerome spotted an unmistakable flash of gold. The Cup of Ankh.

His eyes went wide. Before he could say anything, she put on the headphones and disappeared into the tunnel.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:30pm.

It was agonizing waiting for Nina to reappear. He only brought one headlamp, so he sat in the dark of the tunnels, listening to the wind pass through and rustle the dead ivy twigs and leaves on the ground.

He didn’t hear anything in the tunnel once Nina entered. He watched her crawl in, the headlamp casting eerie, moving shadows on the dirt of the cave. But eventually, Nina and her light disappeared.

His ears had never been more peeled as he listened for any sign of struggle or danger. He had no idea what she meant when she said he might hear her scream. Did she mean in pain? In fear? It didn’t even matter because she told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t know if he could do that.

For now, he listened for signs of rubble falling. What would he do if it collapsed? If she was buried alive? He shuddered. Being buried alive sounded almost as bad as his worst fear. Almost.

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. He got up to pace and walk it off.

He looked to his left and saw a long stone beam stretched over a dark pit. Light streamed in from the moon through a grate in the ceiling. He peered into the pit, but it descended into darkness. He kicked a pebble into it. He didn’t hear a sound until nearly a minute later.

“What the hell is this place?” Jerome whispered. Not only was it architecturally impossible, but it was also clearly full of horrors and death traps. No wonder the Scooby gang wasn’t afraid of his ghost stories anymore.

He kicked another rock into the pit, but while he was waiting for the drop, he heard a noise from in the tunnel. It was a distant whimper — Nina. He paused, listening for another noise.

“Ahhhh!!” Nina shrieked.

Jerome ran to the tunnel. “Nina?” he shouted. “Hello!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t scream again.

He knew what she told him. Stay there, don’t react, it’s fine. He knew something else though: she was stupidly reckless. His heart was pounding. For all he knew, she could be dying in there, all alone, and he was doing nothing.

It was normally his M.O. to stand by, let other people deal with their problems while he dealt with his. He did that all year. He saw his friends sneaking out at night, jumping at the slightest noise, clutching burning brand marks, turning pale at the dinner table — and he ignored it. Not this time.

He pushed up his sleeves, steeled himself, and crawled into the darkness.

He couldn’t see anything at all, it was totally dark, but he crawled forward. “Nina!” he called. “I’m coming to find you. And this is the worst ‘no questions asked’ ever!”

She didn’t respond. He listened hard, but he couldn’t hear her screaming. He couldn’t even hear her telling him off for coming in. Instead, he heard dripping. He crawled forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip. He followed the noise. It was all he had to go off of. He still couldn’t see Nina or her headlamp.

The drip sped up to a steady stream. He heard a babble, like the sound of a tiny stream. Where the hell is water coming from, he thought.

“Nina?” he shouted. “What the hell!” Jerome’s hand sunk into a puddle. When he pulled it out, it was covered in slippery mud. He wished he could see. He kept crawling against his better judgment, but then he felt it: water rising.

All around him, he felt freezing water seep out of the ground. A moment later, he felt a drip from above. “What…” He stopped in his tracks. The water was rising. Panic set in.

He was petrified. He didn’t know whether to turn around or find Nina. The water started to pour in heavy streams from the top of the tunnel. It soaked his hair and his clothes. It was freezing cold.

“Nina!” he shouted desperately. Please let this be a dream, he thought. “Nina!”

He pushed his hair out of his eyes but it did nothing because he couldn’t even see. His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered when this fear started — the day at the beach, his first time at the coast. He nearly died. Alone. This time he wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch the current to shore.

He spit out water and coughed. He sat back onto his heels. The water was at his waist. “Nina!!”

Then he heard her, her voice like a dual-edged sword: sharp on one side and terrified on the other. “Jerome! What are you doing? I told you to stay —” She was cut off by a rush of water from the ceiling. It splashed into their faces.

He couldn’t see her at all, but when the water drained from his ears, he could hear her choke and cough.

“We have to get out!” she yelled. Another rush of water descended on them. Jerome tilted his chin toward the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to put his face underwater. It terrified him.

A horrible rumble moved through the tunnel. All of a sudden, Nina’s headlamp glitched back to life. She was right beside him, soaking wet and squinting in the light. The water was murky brown and nearly a meter deep. Jerome was petrified.

Nina, however, shouted, “Let’s go!” She started paddling toward the entrance. Jerome couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” he shouted, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble again and a huge wave of water descended on him from the back of the cave.

It was so powerful that it pushed him and Nina back. He knocked into the walls of the cave and flipped onto his back as the wave shoved him. He was completely disoriented, flipping back and forth, hitting the floor, suffocating from the lack of oxygen, until finally the wave dumped them out in a heap onto the cold concrete floor of the tunnels. Water flooded out in waves behind them.

Jerome kneeled on the ground, choking and gasping. His heart pounded. His skin was frozen.

“What the hell?” he shouted when he caught his breath. His vocal cords were wrecked.

He looked up at Nina. She kneeled in a heap on the ground, coughing up water. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to go in there,” she said.

Jerome laid down on the cold floor. He heard the roar of crashing waves, all in his memories.

____________________________________________

The Grounds, 11:50pm.

They walked back to Anubis in silence. With every step, their shoes squeaked and squelched with water. Jerome was freezing. He looked over at Nina; she was shaking. It reminded him of that night in the history classroom. He noticed her satchel was now empty.

“Answers, now,” Jerome said.

Nina sighed, but she didn’t argue. “I had to bury something down there,” she said.

“The Cup,” he said. Nina stared at him. “I saw it in your bag.” He didn’t ask how it survived the furnace.

“Then you can understand why it needed to be hidden somewhere no one would ever go looking for it,” she said. “The tunnel was part of the tasks. It shows you your worst fear.”

“No kidding,” Jerome scoffed. He looked at her, but she stared off into the distance. He couldn’t help it; he wondered what the hell she saw in there. He didn’t ask.

“I asked you to come because no one in Sibuna would have let me do what I just did.”

“For once I agree with them,” he said.

“Well, I had it handled,” she said. “I’d done it before, so I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, until we almost drowned,” he stressed. Just saying the word struck fear in his heart. His skin froze all over again.

“That’s why I said to stay where you were,” she said. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in that.” She ran a hand through her soaked hair and sighed. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

Jerome nodded, his version of accepting an apology.

Nina half-grinned. “Trust me, I really thought you’d be the one person on earth who would actually mind your business when I told you to,” she joked.

He cracked a smile. “Trust me, normally I would have.” But when he thought about it, he’d stuck his neck out for her kind of a lot. He realized with a shock that she had done the same for him, and she probably would again if given the choice.

“Well, Martin, after tonight I believe you owe me at least three ‘no questions asked,’” he said. She probably owed him a couple hundred actually, but he was feeling generous.

She sighed. “That’s fair,” she said.

They reached Anubis finally. They ditched their soaking shoes and socks outside and snuck in the house. Jerome shuffled off to his room, eager to rid himself of his soaking clothes and the memory of this night forever, but Nina stopped him.

“Jerome,” she whispered. He squinted at her through the darkness. “Thanks.”

“You live a weird life, Martin,” he said, his way of saying “you’re welcome.” She was the most reckless person he has ever met, but he had to admit, she had guts.

That was how Jerome learned to never request a favor from Nina Martin ever again, no matter how many embarrassing things he did on Valentine’s Day.

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Valentine’s Day, 2011 (one year ago).

Nina knocked on Mara and Patricia’s bedroom door, staring at the text she got from Jerome.

A second later, Jerome opened the door and stepped outside, looking panicked.

“What the hell is a ‘no questions asked?’” she asked.

“No questions!” he whisper-shouted. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room.

The room was covered in pink frills, plush stuffed animals, glitter, and red hearts. A string quartet sat on Patricia’s bed. When they saw Nina, they readied their instruments and started to play.

“NO!” Jerome shouted, more desperate than angry. “It’s not her.” He turned to Nina, “Help me get rid of it!” he pleaded.

Nina’s jaw was on the floor. “What the…”

“No. Questions. Asked,” Jerome hissed.

#lol sorry for the angst in there #that always happens #i wasnt sure i wanted jerome to go in the tunnel but i really wanted to explore my hc for his phobia #sorry to this man #he should know better than to get mixed up with nina #especially after 10pm #those are her feral hours #jerome clarke #nina martin #house of anubis #hoa ask #thanks for the ask!#hoa fanfic

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