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drabblesandimagines · 10 months ago

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Elevation

Leon Kennedy x female reader More of my fluffy nonsense

Hunnigan slams the phone down into the cradle at the end of her call and if you hadn’t already been casting auspicious glances up at the scene before you, her actions would’ve made you jump.

“What is it, Leon?” Hunnigan’s tone is blunt.

It would be so easy to look up at the handsome DSO agent then. You’d be perfectly within your right to look up too, your desk opposite sat directly opposite Hunnigan’s so you had ring-side side seats to the commotion. It wouldn’t look odd - he’d be in your eyeline, after all - but you fight the temptation, keeping your eyes fixed on the paper in front of you, fingers tapping idly away over the keyboard as you transpose to the screen.

Exactly what you’ve been doing the past ten minutes that Leon Kennedy has been wandering around the office, dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans today, his gun holster peeking out from underneath a beloved leather jacket, directing all attention to a certain pair of assets.

Not that you were keeping track of how long he’d been there, of course, you had work to do.

“Huh?” For someone who had apparently been waiting on her call finishing, Leon’s thoughts seems elsewhere.

“I said,” Hunnigan adjusts her tone, “can I help you with something?”

“Does there have to be something? Surely a guy can just come visit his favourite FOS agent.”

“But you haven’t come to visit, you’ve come to loiter.” Hunnigan retorts. “I told you already, if I have anything for you, I will be in contact. Go home.”

There’s an incredulous scoff as he tries to think of a reason to stay, but it quickly transforms into a sigh as he admits defeat. “Fine.”

He begins his retreat towards the exit and you hear the tell-tale beep of his pass against by the door panel, the electronic lock then clunking in release.

“Have a good afternoon, ladies.”

You look up then – and only then - to find him looking directly at you. You give him a polite smile in return. “You too.”

He grins in return, a proper one that makes his eyes crease, before giving you a nod and a wave as he through the door. The smile stays on your lips as you reach for your mug of coffee – now ice cold - and take a sip.

“I think he likes you, you know?” Hunnigan states in her oh-so-nonchalantly way, making you choke on the gulp you’d just taken.

“What? No…! I mean, who?” Your voice is tight in response from having swallowed the liquid the wrong way, internally cursing. Smooth, real smooth.

“Leon.” The agent continues hammering away at her keyboard, kindly ignoring your attempts at being subtle.

“I don’t know where you’ve drawn that conclusion from.” You don’t – you really don’t. You could probably count the amount of conversations the two of you have had with all of your fingers, all just pleasantries.

“I’ve worked with him for years now and he’s never been here as much since your transfer started.”

“Coincidence, I’m sure. He just seems eager for work.”

Hunnigan goes to open her mouth in response when, thankfully, the phone on her desk rings. Saved by the bell.

Being afraid of elevators had never really been an issue until you had taken this assignment, being sent to work on the 12th floor. At the very least it’s proving to be a good workout the number of times a day you now trudge up and down the stairwell from your desk to the archives below. The DSO holds a surprising amount of paper copies of intel in the basement – both handwritten and old typewriter documents - secured behind a vault door, rumours of the place being rigged to ignite in flames if an intruder is detected to prevent it all from falling into the wrong hands.

The DSO board had decided that intel should now be stored in the government-secured cloud and on paper and you’d been brought in as an archivist/analyst hybrid, on loan from the CIA. The project you’d been tasked with, single-handedly, was transferring intel that was currently only held in those paper copies to the online system. There was technology that could do but it wasn’t perfect – scrawled handwriting would often prove indecipherable by most machines or it misread words, so everything would need quality checked. It was agreed a human touch was best and your name had come up after the CIA had undertaken a similar audit of their files a few years ago to excellent results. Once everything had been digitized, it had become easier to quickly identify any links between incidents past and present – using surnames, terms, intel – and even stopped a handful of potential ones, so the DSO had been keen to put the practice in place.

It did mean, however, that every day you’d go down to the vault, select a box of paperwork – either the one you’ve got partway through or a whole new one - trudge back up the many flights of stairs, and then start typing from page to screen to produce a digitized document. It was imperative that no-one else see the documents, so they’d set you up in Hunnigan’s office as one of their most trusted agents.

Wanting to look professional whilst in the office but not break your neck on the stairs, you kept a selection of heels in your locker to swap out of for your reliable sneakers. Hunnigan was still working away when you packed up around 7pm, kicking off your heels to switch out, and had been in a lengthy, hushed tone call for the past hour. You nodded your head as you heaved the box of documents up in your arms, and she waved back in acknowledgement.

Beeping your ID card at the door, the lock buzzed and the door opened automatically – a godsend as the box you had today was particularly heavy – everything within held in those awful arch-lever folders.

As you emerged, you heard the puff of the elevator doors beginning to slide shut, not even giving it a moment of thought. You turned to the left to head down the stairs as usual, when a gloved hand slammed between the elevator doors, preventing them from closing with a thud and giving you a start, turning to see a face.

The face of Leon S Kennedy catches you entirely by surprise. He hadn’t even been by the office today to bother Hunnigan, though you know he does have his own desk somewhere in the building, maybe even his own office. He smiles at the sight of you, beckoning you over.

“Hey. Hop on in - I’m going down.”

You hesitate at the invitation. You haven’t been in an elevator for years and he’s just stood there, waiting, holding the door open. You have to say or do something. “You okay?”

Next thing you know, as if you’d been hypnotized, you were walking towards the elevator, then stepping over the threshold into a place you swore you never would enter again.

“Basement?” Leon fingers hover over the button panel in anticipation.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He presses the buttons for ground and basement simultaneously with two fingers, and the door slides shut with another puff of air.

The elevator and your stomach begin to descend in unison.

This is fine.

“Looks heavy. Can I…?” He gestures to the box, offering to take it.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s okay.” You bump the box up with your knee, trying to strengthen your grip on it. Your palms are sweaty, but you’re not sure if the cause is the elevator or the handsome man besides you.

Leon crosses his arms, leans back against the wall. “They still not given you a lackey to do all the grunt work? I thought that’s what they took on interns for these days.”

“It’s difficult when no-one else is meant to handle it, let alone see it but me.” Leon gives you a quizzical look at that. “It’s protocol, narrows down the potential for leaks. If anything gets out, it’s on my head, so…”

“What about when you take breaks? You don’t…”

You nod, shifting the box in your arms again. Why do they feel like jelly? “Gotta lug it back downstairs to be locked back in the vault.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Mm-mm. It’s fine – good exercise for me, I guess, between sitting at the desk all day, so…”

“Surely they could at least give you a desk closer to the grou-“

The elevator’s smooth descent is transformed into a shudder, followed by a loud metallic screech and a sharp jerk that makes your stomach truly drop before all motion halts. No, no, no, no.

“Huh.” Leon muses, calm as anything. He immediately presses the emergency call button, illuminated in red, but the only sound that emits out of the speakers is static. He presses it again to the same result, and then in rapid succession, as if that’ll coerce it into working.

You tighten your grip on the box, wanting to tell him to stop but, thankfully, he gives up before you can have the strength to find your voice and pulls his cell out from his pocket.

“Damn, no reception.” He looks back over to you then with a sympathetic smile. “Well, this is one way to get overtime outta us, hey?”

There’s no chance to reply before the elevator plunges into darkness and you drop the box immediately, thankfully away from your feet. It can only be a few seconds at the most but it feels like an eternity before the emergency lighting comes on, casting the small metal prison in a pale yellow hue.

Leon’s staring at you, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You reply, not at all convincingly. You bend down to pick up the box to escape that blue-eyed gaze for a moment, heaving it back up in your arms. “Is this… normal for this office?” You hope he can’t hear how tight your voice is.

“Power must be down, seems like the back-up generator kicked in.” The agent shrugs, looking around the elevator as if something of use might be around. “It’ll prioritize the critical systems – so I’d guess lights, vending machines and elevators are not gonna be particularly high up on that list.”

“Wonderful.” You reply, breathily. It’s warm. Should it be warm? “Here, let me just…” Leon reaches over and gently tugs the box from your weak grip, no sign of surprise at the weight of it as he takes it. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in here, so let’s put this down.”

“No, I shou-“

“I promise I’m not going to try and read any of it.”

You watch him as he places it down, he’s sure to bend with his knees rather than his back, and tucks it into the corner under the button panel, out of the way. He stands back up to his full height, looking at you for a response, but all you manage is a shaky nod.

“Are you feeling okay?” “Y-yeah. Fine.” “Mm. Not a great liar.” He tilts his head, scanning you with his eyes once more. “What’s the matter?” “I…” Another swallow in the hopes of your mouth not feeling so dry. “I don’t like elevators. Always take the stairs.” “Oh.” Not the answer he was expecting it seems. “Wait, why’d you get in, then?” “Well, er…” You hesitate again, how do you answer that? “You… You told me to.”

He can’t help the goofy smile that crosses his face. “Huh, that’s all it takes? Interesting. I’ll have to remember that.”

You’re about to ask him what that’s supposed to mean, the words just on the tip of your tongue when the elevator jerks and they turn into a shriek. It’s over before it even begins, really, but Leon’s reflexes now have you pressed up against the wall, his arms braced above your head to protect it from any sort of impact.

“It’s all right,” he says, softly. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Your heart is beating too fast, tears burn at your eyes at the fright. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne – musky, hints of vanilla – but this isn’t where you want to be having this moment.

“How about we sit down, huh?”

“I’m okay.” Your answer is breathy again, your chest feeling tight. Panting like you’d finished climbing up 12 flights of stairs.

“It’ll be more comfortable.”

“Don’t wanna…” You try and take a deep inhale, but it doesn’t seem to reach the bottom of your lungs. “Don’t wanna s-shake it.”

“You won’t.” He drops his arms from against the wall and instead grabs your hand, squeezes it in an attempt to ground you. “Trust me.”

You want to trust him, but the panic is too strong. This was such a bad idea, why did you do this?

“I…”

“We’ll do it together, okay?” He somehow coaxes you to shuffle forward and then slips in behind you, taking hold of your other hand. “Just lean against me and we’ll ease on down.”

Leon presses his chest firmly up against your back and you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating. He wraps his arms around your waist next, meaning you’re hugging yourself in a way before he slides down against the elevator wall, bringing you down with him, onto the carpeted elevator floor. He thought it was a seamless maneuverer, but the way he’d felt your nails dig into his leather gloves from how tight your grip was, he knew you weren’t of the same opinion.

“There we go.” His thighs are spread either side of yours, now that you’re nestled inbetween his legs. “Worried you were gonna pass out – you’d gone really pale. Just sit here and concentrate on your breathing a minute, okay? Feel how I’m doing it.”

You close your eyes and try to concentrate on how he’s breathing, feeling his chest expand as he inhales, loudly and deliberately through his nose, holds the breath, then exhales heavily through his mouth, tickling the back of your neck.

You try and mimic him, get your inhales and exhales in sync and, slowly, the pressure begins to ease in your chest as you feel your breaths get deeper and deeper.

"Feeling a little better?”

His voice reverberates from his chest being pressed up against your back, feels comforting. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. My fault you’re in here, after all.” He replies, gently. “I’m gonna move now, okay? Wanna check you’ve got the colour back in your cheeks.”

You nod, and he somehow manages to shuffle back and to the front of you with overly cautious movements – definitely for your benefit, ever the gentleman - withdrawing his legs into a crossed position and giving you a smile as he takes in your appearance. Being so fixed in his gaze makes your cheeks prickle with heat – maybe not the colour he’d hoped to be checking.

“Yeah, you’re looking better. Good.” He nods in affirmation, more to himself than you. “That noise – I think someone was trying to get the power back on, sounds like it only worked for a second before it could get going. The elevator’s not gonna fall.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve had to disable some of them before – for work, I mean. They’re all equipped with multiple failsafe systems to prevent that exact scenario.”

“Disable them?”

“Just so they stop…” He gestures in a circle as he tries to find the words, “elevating, I guess, so I’m not pursued. Make ‘em take the stairs.”

“Ah, right.” You nod. “Wind them a bit.”

“Exactly. If you don’t mind me asking, you always been afraid of them?”

“No. Got stuck in one in an old apartment block years ago – it didn’t feel particularly modern. There were three of us – me and two drunk guys who kept jumping up and down, convinced that would make it move. The fire department got us out after two hours cos I had one of those… episodes. Haven’t been in one since.”

“Idiots.”

“They just kept laughing the more panicked I got. I felt so stupid.”

“Panic attacks are no joke. That box breathing always helps me if I feel on edge, though.”

“Yeah, that was really good.” You feel a shy smile creep over your face. “If I had to get suck in an elevator with anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

He practically beams. “Now I don’t feel quite so bad. I’ve gotta ask again though, you really got in here just because I said to?” He’s already seen you a panicking mess, so why not just be honest? “Your smile helped too.” “Well, consider me flattered.”

“It’s a nice smile…” You swallow, a little cautious of the next word. “Enticing.”

You swear you see a smidge of colour flush Leon’s cheeks then, but it must be a trick of the artificial lights. “Well, since we’re confessing – yours is too. That’s the real reason I was bothering Hunnigan. Wanted to see if I could win another.”

“You came to see me smile?” You’re definitely blushing now – cheeks prickling with the heat.

“Guilty. I don’t think you’d remember, but a week or so back I was having a real shitty day. Went to go debrief with Hunnigan and she wasn’t there, but you were. When I stormed in, you just gave me the best and most genuine smile I’d seen in days. Meant a lot.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

You smile again, can’t help it, and he groans, jokingly. “Ugh, see? Not again – I don’t think my heart can take how sweet it is.”

You don’t know what to say to that but you’re excused when, suddenly, the lights transition overhead with a flicker from the emergency dulled tones to the standard, harsh fluorescent light and the elevator begins its smooth descent once more.

“Finally, huh?” Leon gets up easily to his feet and then offers you a hand.

“Yeah.” You accept it without hesitation, goosebumps prickling up your arm as he wraps his fingers around your hand and he pulls you up with ease. Slyly, his other hand now rests on the small of your back, drawing you in close…

The elevator dings, announcing its arrival on the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal a maintenance worker, clad in blue overalls, waiting in the lobby. Leon draws back then, but still keeps his hand steady on your back.

“You two all right? Power-cut had rotten timing, I was gonna repair that emergency speaker tonight when most of the office was cleared out.”

“All good, thanks.” Leon bends down, picks up the box again without question and you follow him out of the elevator in pursuit, only to hear a cell begin to ring from his pocket. He balances the box with one arm – you’ve no idea how – and pulls out the device, frowning at the name on screen.

“Sorry, I’ve really gotta take this.” His brows furrow in annoyance. “You be okay with taking that downstairs?”

“Yeah, of course. I really should take it back now anyway, you know, just in case…” You trail off as he eases the box over to you, making sure you’ve got it properly before he lets go. “Thanks… for everything.”

“Pleasure was all mine.” He replies, sincerely, before reluctantly lifting the cell up to his ear.

“Kennedy.”

You leave him to his phone-call and head down the stairs for a thankfully unremarkable trip down to the vaults to replace the box back in its rightful place. It’d be a lie to say when you climbed back up to the lobby that you weren’t disappointed when there’s no trace of him to be found.

The next morning, after passing through the security check, you make your way down to the archive vault as usual, pressing your hand against the door panel to gain access. Sadly, you’ve still got a lot of work to do in the box you’d been working on yesterday, so you dutifully log its withdrawal in the computer system, and heave it up once more in your arms before heading out.

You only make it up one flight of stairs when you see him, leaned up against the stairway wall, one arm held against his chest whilst his other hand is holding his cell, squinting at some text. He looks up as you scuff your trainer on one of the steps and he smiles as you reach him, tucking his cell back away.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. What brings you here?” You curse inwardly. “I mean, not that it’s not a pleasant surprise, just…”

He waves it off. “I getcha. Well, I have some pretty good sway here, you know, so I’ve volunteered.”

“Volunteered for what?”

“Volunteered…” He steps forward and wraps his arms around the box, “..to be your stairs lackey.”

“Oh, no – it’s fine, honestly.” You feel flustered at the very idea. Leon’s one of the top, if not the top agent of the DSO. He can’t be doing manual labour for you, he shouldn’t. “You have so many better things to be doing. I can mana…”

“Please?” He tilts his head, gives you that enticing smile again. “I mean, I could just tell you,” – he teases – “but I thought I’d ask this time, so you’re sure.”

The smile makes you feel weak at the knees and you’d already proven yesterday you couldn’t resist its magic. “Okay. But you should definitely take the elevator then.”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, taking the box into his arms. “It’s good cardio, got my weight-resistance. You’re practically doing me a favour by taking the stairs.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hm. Though,” he bites his lip in a pause, “I may have ulterior motives.”

“Right, and what would those be?”

“If I were to, say, visit the office around six tonight and carry this thing back down to the vault, maybe you’d go to dinner with me?”

God, you feel absolutely giddy - there’s no way you can hold back your smile. “I think that’s… acceptable.”

“Then we have a deal. Ladies first,” he nods with his head to up the stairwell.

“No, I… I think you should go first. Just so I can keep an eye on you on the way up. I’ve got to make sure you’re not sneaking a peek at the assets, you know?”

He quirks an eyebrow, you know he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he shrugs it off all the same. “As you wish.”

And as you follow him up 12 flights of stairs, you slightly breathless and him seemingly fine, you can’t help but sneak a look at a different pair of assets before you.

---

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi/Commissions

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years ago

Note

would you ever write something filthy for winter soldier? no pressure btw!

Experiments

Pairing || Winter Soldier x Female!Reader

Summary || HYDRA conducts sexual experiments on specimen The Winter Soldier.

Word Count || 2901

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, explicit content/language, sub!soldat, implied torture/murder/blood, restraints, unprotected vaginal sex, size kink, oral (male receiving), handjob, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation, exhibition, creampie, bodily fluids.

Authors Note || The answer is yes sweet nonnie :D And I really love how this turned out. This is my first time writing for WS so please be kind :) Remember, read the warnings! I’m not responsible for your content consumption. Don’t like it, don’t read. And definitely don’t slap a label on just to be petty. There are no [ ] in the text below btw. Also apologies for no readmore cut. It’s currently bugged out and fucks up the text below.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Masterlist

You had no idea how long you had been in this stuffy and dim-lit room. Minutes? Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity but also like no time had passed at all. It was easy to lose track of it when you had no inclination whether it was day or night out. The room and its surroundings were bleak and dull, giving nothing away about your location.

How did you end up in this situation? Naked with strangers watching—discussing, researching, contemplating. And with a stranger's cock in your grasp? Making him come again, again, and again—an endless cycle of climax.

It all seemed like a blur now. A past from another time. A dream? A nightmare?

They promised good pay. Money that was beyond imaginable, but you had to take this with you to the grave. This experiment that you yourself had signed up for could never reach the light of day.

Tell anyone, and they will torture and mutilate you beyond recognition. Killing and dumping your body in a ditch.

Although the men were vicious beyond anything, they told you countless times that under any circumstances, you could leave. You were not here out of force. They would keep you safe. You had signed up for this, and whenever you wanted to terminate the deal you had sealed, you were allowed. But you could never, ever tell another living soul about what you had seen or experienced.

It felt like a week, but in reality, it had only been a day or so since these men had come and picked you up from your home—blindfolding and plugging your ears. Due to their safety and yours, you could not know where you were being taken.

After hours of traveling by car, train, and plane—taking all transportation possible—you had arrived. To where you did not know. A military bunker of some sort, possibly. Somewhere cold and emotionless. An unknown country.

Your blindfold and plugs were removed, and you sat in a dark room. A hanging bulb from the ceiling cascaded a weak source of light throughout the space. The chair and table were metal and cold.

Opposite you sat a man dressed in uniform. Narrowing your eyes and inspecting him further, you saw it was the same man you had come in contact with when you had signed up for this mysterious experiment.

“Papers for you to sign,” he uttered in a thick Russian accent. His face and tone were stoic.

He explained the contract in detail. And there was a particular phrase that stood out to you. That made no sense. The Asset. It was mentioned numerous times.

You knew what you had come here for. A sexual experiment of some sort. But nowhere in the contract did it say who you were conducting it with. There was no name. No details about any appearance or anything. Only that you would perform with someone or something named The Asset.

“He has no name.” The man spoke. “He is not a person. Do not try to humanize him. He is a tool. A weapon. Nothing more. But if you have to call him something, you may refer to him as Soldat. And do not worry. He cannot hurt you.”

“Why am I doing this? W-what’s the purpose?” You muttered while avoiding his emotionless gaze.

“We have to experiment and see if he is breakable. If someone can ever bend his will and programming with sexual torture.”

Your train of thoughts and flashbacks were cut short by the sound of fingers tapping on glass behind you and the roar of metal chains rattling in front of you.

“Please continue, miss,” the same thick Russian accent bellowed from behind.

“O-oh,” you exhaled as you came back to your senses. The coldness of the small room pierced your naked skin. The sounds of inaudible chatter in a foreign language and beeping of instruments flowed through your ears. And your eyes adjusted to what was in front of you.

Soldat.

He held all your attention now as you peered at him through your thick lashes. The surroundings were not relevant anymore. The people watching and observing were not relevant anymore—only him.

The beefy and nude man was held in chains. His arms restrained so that he couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t hurt you, for that matter.

His head hung low, peering down at you. His long hair cascaded down his face and stuck to his sweaty forehead, but you could still see some of his features. He held an intense expression. It was hard to decipher. His jaw clenched tightly, and his dark eyes were wild. Pain? Pleasure? Did he actually enjoy the sexual torture? It was hard to tell. He never spoke. Deep groans and grunts that rumbled in his throat were the only sounds to ever come out of him. The sounds gave you an impression that he may actually enjoy this vicious ordeal.

Although powerless, he looked powerful and rough from where you were positioned on your knees. Fuck, he was huge. All of him. God, he was hot. The sight in front of you was like a lewd porno.

You and he were covered in cum, sweat, and spit—a concoction of erotic slickness. Hot and disgusting at the same time. It made the acts you performed on him that much effortless.

You felt the heaviness of his cock in your grasp again as you returned to yourself. And once you tugged on it tighter, he roared loudly and clenched his body tight and hard. The muscles underneath his skin became deliciously defined. And the plates on his bionic arm whirled every time he flexed.

His red and angry cock twitched in pain and pleasure. Raw due to your repeated acts on him—handjob, blowjob, and having him nestled deep inside your pussy. Making him come again and again.

The thick and protruding veins along his shaft pulsed underneath your palms as you jerked him faster. Tighter. Sloppier.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you took in the sight of his impressive cock, making your mouth water at the anticipation of having him on your tongue again.

With a needy moan, you took him in your mouth. Suckling his head as both your hands sloppily worked the rest of him. Swirling your tongue on his sensitive tip as your lips wrapped beautifully around him.

Soldat groaned as you sucked him to perfection—cum and spit dribbling out of your mouth and making a beautiful mess all over yourself and him.

His hands may be bound, but the rest of his body was boundless, and he bucked his hips into your mouth. The tip of his cock tickled the back of your throat. You coughed and struggled, and he rumbled deeply in response. Seeming satisfied with you choking.

When you couldn’t handle the abuse to your throat anymore, you release his cock with a pop. You spat the excess saliva onto his length and let the slickness coat the entirety of him.

As both your hands worked his entire cock again—base to tip, you took his heavy sack into your mouth—licking and sucking. Enjoying the weight of his balls on your tongue—moaning against him.

You peered up at him again with hooded eyes. He seemed to enjoy the dirty sight—your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. A messy perfection kneeling before him.

A smirk tugged on his lips before he hissed sharply through his teeth as you pulled his sack harshly and then let it drop from your mouth.

He was close again. Nearing his fifth? Or was it maybe the sixth orgasm since you started? You had lost count.

The Russian officer was right. Soldat was no ordinary man. No one would have been able to withstand so many orgasms in such a short time. It was extraordinary to witness. Could he really keep climaxing till the end of times?

Soldat’s chest heaved as the torturous pleasure built. His thick thighs trembled, and his cock twitched, anticipating another earth-shattering and messy release.

He bellowed a cry through his gritted teeth as he came hard once again. The chains rattled as he tugged on them. He bucked his stuttering hips into your grasp as he spurted ropes and ropes of thick white cum from his red tip and made a mess all over himself and you. The sounds of pleasure and torture—grunts, groans, roars, and subtle whines, surfaced despite his clenched jaw.

You never stopped stroking him. Never stopped milking his poor and sensitive cock for all its seed. God, there was so much. You were in awe of him—eyes wide and mouth ajar. It was like a drug to you. Seeing the man above you come so intensely undone.

In the beginning, you had felt bad due to how wrong the situation actually was. But the more he came, the more you craved it. You needed it just as much as breathing.

“Good boy,” you mumbled as you gave a final tight tug on his cock. He hissed at the sensitivity and then exhaled as you released his twitching and aching cock from your hold.

For the first time, he looked finished. Exhausted as he dropped his head backward. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and tried to catch his breath. Had he reached his breaking point?

You gave him a break. He deserved that much by enduring this pleasurable torture. But the men in charge were impatient.

“Please don’t stop, miss. He is not allowed to rest.” The same accent uttered behind the glass.

Soldat’s eyes were on you now. Watching intensely as you got to your feet. You hissed as you stood upright. The uncomfortable and solid concrete floor bruised your knees and made your thighs stiff.

His abused cock twitched once you stood before him in all your nude form. His chains rattled again as he tried to reach forward to touch you. The plates on his bionic arm whirled. Did he want to hurt you? Punish you for torturing him? Or was there something else he wanted?

He stared intensely at you with his jaw clenched and eyes wild like an animal—examining your body like a predator would a prey. He groaned and licked his lips, hungry for more of what you had to offer. How much till he could bear no more?

When he saw you become nervous under his gaze, he bit his tongue and relaxed back into his seat.

“Please continue, miss,” the Russian man pressed you on. Becoming impatient with the waiting.

You trembled as you sat on top of Soldat—sore yourself from all the previous activities you had performed on him—hours of torturous pleasure. He let out a satisfied groan as you found your place on his lap.

You were so unbelievably close now. Your sweaty bodies pressed together, front to front. It was so hot, so erotic feeling his warm skin against yours. Feeling his delicious and defined muscles underneath your palms as you ran them down his broad torso.

His cock nestled against your dripping pussy. Yours and his juices mixed as you grinded on him, making him rock hard again.

With a breathless moan, you took his cock in your grasp again, loving the feel of him in your hand. Soldat sucked in a breath through his teeth as you pumped his bruised and slick length before you lined up his bulbous head with your entrance.

For the first time since you sat on him, you found his dark gaze as you lowered yourself onto his thick girth, thighs trembling. You winched at the pleasurable sting as he stretched out your velvet walls, inch by inch. It was so much to take in.

A deep groan sounded from his throat at the friction on his sensitive cock. His head fell back, eyes closed, and his teeth drew blood as he bit his bottom lip. His body clenched again at the sensual torture.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” you whined as his cock nestled balls deep inside your pussy.

His dark eyes found yours again. And although they were scary and wild, you couldn’t break from his intense stare. An animalistic groan rumbled in his chest, and his hands clenched in tight fists. His menacing aura compelled you to start riding him.

With your hands clasped at the back of his neck, steadying yourself, you started bouncing on his thick length. Slow, to begin with. Letting the ridges and veins of his cock caress delicately against your walls. Your jaw slacked as you enjoyed the teasing penetration.

But Soldat was impatient. He tried to push his body further into yours despite the constriction of his chains as he bellowed a deep roar. His hips bucked upwards brutally, forcing the entirety of him in you. You cried as his swollen head hit deep inside.

As he continued to snap his hips up into your aching pussy in quick motions, you met his movements with your own forceful ones. The sound of wet skin clapping, deep moans, groans, and soft whimpers drowned out the chatter and beeping of instruments behind.

Your sweaty bodies moved and danced effortlessly together—a seductive second act to the lewd porno.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to his hard. Soldat took advantage of having his touch on you for the first time. He groaned as he moved his lips hurriedly against yours. Parting them to explore your mouth further.

The kiss was messy and needy—tongue and spit mixed together. Breathless moans and whimpers shared between you as your lips moved passionately—savouring the intoxicating taste.

As you pulled away, desperately needing a breath due to the exertion of your movements, he captured your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it as you pulled apart. He managed to nip your lip at the last second, puncturing through the skin and creating a little bleeding cut. He groaned while you moaned at the violent action. His animalistic and cruel nature was beyond hot.

It was hard to tell how long you had been fucking for—riding his cock brutally. It was all so intoxicating—the sounds, the touches, the tastes, the delicious penetration. It clouded all your senses. It made you aware of nothing but him—his massive body and cock.

You were approaching your first orgasm since you started this erotic experiment with The Asset. And with the way your body trembled and the firm tightness in your stomach begged to snap, you knew your release would wreck you—dissolving you into a messy state of whimpers and possibly a blackout.

You braced yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck—clinging desperately to him. Puncturing your nails into the skin of his back—leaving marks.

Soldat’s body tensed, anticipating another rocking release as he ground his teeth and roared like a caged animal. The chains rattled as he pulled on his restraints. His huge arms flexed, and his delicious muscles contorted beautifully, making him look even bigger.

You could see a hint of pain and discomfort in his features at having his cock tormented and overstimulated to the extreme. But another part of him, the darkest flicker in his eyes, couldn’t get enough of the torturous pleasure.

You leaned your forehead against his, which had his tenseness ease up to a degree. Yours and his parted lips brushed as you became so engrossed with the anticipation of your shared release.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you grounded yourself deeper onto his pulsing cock that was nearing its release. And with a last few sharp thrusts of his hips into your quivering pussy, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, you and he came hard—an explosion of noises and numbing pleasure rocked your bodies.

His cock twitched violently as he spurted his thick and warm cum into your awaiting womb, covering your fluttering walls with his seed. Making you feel full and satisfied. Yours and his hips stuttered and lost their rhythm as you tried to move against each other despite the soul-crushing and body-crippling sensation.

Your sounds of passion were muffled against his sweaty skin as you nuzzled your face into the crock of his neck. His ones roared so loudly in your ear—moans, groans, growls, making your whole body vibrate and convulse.

The pleasure seemed to last for an eternity as you savoured each erotic and sensual sensation with Soldat.

A wave of darkness shadowed over you as it became too much after a while. The pleasure too intense for your weak body to handle. Your movements started easing into a delicate dance as you used the last bit of strength to cling onto Soldat’s colossal frame.

Yours and his chest heaved in perfect rhythm as you stilled completely on him. His cock buried deep inside you still.

His warm body against yours was a comfort from the raging ache your own pulsed. His hot breath brushing your skin a soothing sensation.

How could a man that was claimed to be inhuman, dangerous, a weapon, feel so comfortable? Feel so right?

You hummed softly as you nuzzled further into him. Tired and drained from the hours of exertion that accumulated into a fiery ending.

The demands of the men in charge for you to continue were nothing but a muffled sound.

You felt yourself slip. Slip into darkness, tired and satiated, as the last thing your consciousness remembered was the soft lulling of the menacing man you were clinging onto.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

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lutiaskokopelli · 4 days ago

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I have an issue with constantly getting distracted, so I got distracted from working by making a 100% customizable Pomodoro App to keep my future self from getting distracted. Have a Google Drive download link.

The Pomodoro technique, if you don't know it, is a discipline method for keeping track of when you are working and when you are taking breaks, notably through the use of a timer.

There are tons of apps centered around this, and yet after looking at so many of them, I somehow could not find one that would do the most basic thing I'd like to have for a study companion: change the background of the app so that yes, I do have a timer telling me to work harder, but I also have an image of my choice to cheer me up along with it.

So what did I do? Did I take the rational, reasonable path, to just suck it up and stick to one of the already existing apps even though it would mean saying no to having my adorable Hearthian OC sleep in a corner of my screen?

Or did I go the hyperfocused insane route of utter procrastination and learn a whole new programmation language from scratch just in order to get my frikkin baby to comfort me while I work?

Yeah, who could have guessed.

So! The Google Drive link I shared will let you download everything you need in order to run your own version of this little app, including a tutorial on how to customize it to suit your needs.

The first thing you will see after unzipping the archive is this:

The "ast" folder (standing for "assets") contains every image used by the app -- which means that you can change them as you please! I even gave you transparent versions of the buttons in the "Asset Creation Help" subfolder, in case you like the shapes but want to change the backgrounds.

You think that's cool? Oh, but the image assets are far from being the only thing you can change for this app's behavior! You can change EVERYTHING that this app is doing (which isn't much because it's literally just three different types of timers, and even then there are some trickier details with more coding than others (but I still give tips on how to handle those), but shush. Everything this app can do, you can customize to your heart's content).

How do you do that? Well, this is what you get when you right-click on the "Pomodoro.ps1" file:

The Pomodoro.ps1 file is the "app" itself, written in PowerShell code that I made as legible as I could make it. There is a whole tutorial in there, made easier to read if you right-click on this file's icon and choose the "Edit" option. Have a preview!

Through editing this file, you can then run a Pomodoro app from which you can have the window's appearance customized, from its size, opacity (if you want to still half-see what's sitting behind it), and start position on your screen (the window can be dragged around, but if you have a preferred position you can tell the app to always load it in that preferred spot right from the get go), to stuff like the custom messages you get whenever the timer progresses:

So, yeah. I made a little app meant to help with productivity. One out of many already out there, sure, and it's probably not as cool as many others (but I'll just remind you that three days ago I knew absolutely nothing about PowerShell as a whole, so- I guess that would be still a little impressive that I was able to make a working app like that at all? xD), but as far as I've looked, it's the only one that will let you have your favorite images keep you company while you use it.

I don't know whether anyone other than me will like it enough to use it, but just in case, it's here! Hope it's as easy(-ish) to customize as I made it out to be, or at least close enough.

PS: The version I use for my own personal choices uses some slightly different assets compared to the version I share in the .zip file on my Google Drive. This is because the version I share online solely uses official Outer Wilds art (while the version I made for myself notably uses one piece of OW fanart that I did not make myself, and it didn't sit right with me to share that piece uncredited, even in an edited form. If you are curious, this is the artwork in question).

#pomodoro technique #pomodoro method #outer wilds

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wuntrum · 1 year ago

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do you have any tips for an artist who wants to start making one off comics? i really enjoy your artistic direction and style of story telling so i’m very interested in your thoughts on it

yes, definitely!!

-read lots of comics! and a variety of them, too--both ones in the sort of genre/style you'd like to make, but also ones in completely different genres, lengths, places of origin, traditionally/indie/digitally published, simple to experimental formatting, etc

-in relation to the last one, if a comic you read really speaks to you, take some time to study some page layouts from that comic! how do the panels vary from page to page? how much space is the text taking up? what sort of "shots" (to borrow from cinematic language lol) are they using? these shouldn't be fancy, just little thumbnails, but i find it really helps. here's a few i did from a guest in the house by emily carroll

-start smalllll. its really important to build up your stamina, just like with any new sort of skill. if you wanna make a graphic novel thats 200+ pages long, you should make some comics that are 1, 20, 50 pages long and see them through to the end before taking on a super big project.

-this is related to the last point, but i think keeping your cast of characters small at first can also help build up your comic stamina. signals was the first longer comic i made, so i specifically really wanted to focus on just jeanne (and occasionally her parents and peers when they showed up)

-character sheets are helpful, but i also think the easiest way to start getting your characters drawn consistently is through actually drawing the comic! there's also gonna be panels where they look "off" or whatever, and its literally fine, i promise

-through the smaller comics, experiment with how you go about writing your story! theres no right or wrong way to write/plan out a story so, it takes some trial and error to figure out what will work best with your work flow. for me, i've found success in making a timeline of events for the story -> loosely guessing how many pages i'll need/want per section of the story -> freewriting (trying not to edit too much, just dumping all the words out) -> thumbnailing/loose sketching/editing text (all sort of happens in the same step; i find i need the layouts in front of me to understand what i need/don't need from the text i wrote) -> tight sketching -> final . but, if that flow doesn't work for you, try something else! i know a lot of comics people find success in writing a script first, with indications of page and panel-by-panel breakdowns

-take shortcuts often and without guilt. its a lot of work to make a comic! theres just a lot of drawings involved, that most people aren't gonna look at for very long! i especially recommend for infrequent/difficult things, like buildings or crowds or cars or bookcases, using some sort of 3d asset/brush to make your life easier. if you can reuse a drawing and change the crop/expression, do it!

-use some sort of tracker to track your progress on how many pages you've sketched/inked/finished. even if you don't have an external deadline, i think it's still good to give yourself some sort of timeline to work on (i recommend setting "ideal" goals and "realistic" goals, especially if you're working/still in school/etc). for signals, i used google sheets, because you can set up columns to be attached to little circle charts, so as you check off your progress, you can really easily see how much you've done/how much you have left to do (as i type this i highkey forget how i did that before, with signals, so...you might need to do some sheets experimentation to actually do this lol. but there's probably other trackers you can use too)

-understanding comics and making comics by scott mccloud are both great books, highly recommend them (easy to get second hand/from your library/🏴‍☠️)

-lastly, haveee funnnnn

#asks #art ref #and ty for the kind words i appreciate it <3

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years ago

Text

Civilian Asset 2.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Things go from bad to worse.

Master List (coming soon) / Prev chapter

Warnings: Mild/brief self harm (over-washing hands), peril, violence, kidnapping, torture, corpses, gore, extremely brief threat of SA

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Thank you so much for the support! I hope you enjoy the ride!

When you remember how your legs work, you find your way to the bathroom. Away from the windows, it’s pitch black, and you have to flick on a light to see your hand in front of your face, but the yellow glow itches over your skin, and you work fast, turning the tap to cold and using the little bar of hand soap to attack the lingering rust red hiding in the creases where skin meets nail.

You wish for a big, bristly brush. Or some steel wool. You’d scrape the skin off and start over again if you could. Without so much as a washcloth, you’re forced to pick at yourself, scratching until your flesh is raw and fresh blood seeps up to hide the old.

Once you’re sure the handler’s blood is gone, you slurp a few handfuls of water, sure you’ll feel the affects of dehydration after so much vomiting soon if you don’t. Passing out is never fun, but in the current circumstances, a little dizziness at the wrong moment could be a death sentence.

A little voice whispers in the back of your head that everything tastes like iron as you sip, and you drown it by throwing the next scoop of water directly in your face.

The makeup you wore to the club has not faired well, and you’d rather be the idiot civilian in need of rescuing without mascara tracks streaking your face.

The cold water and hand soap leaves your skin flushed and red, but you’re clean. Maybe even a little refreshed.

Breathing comes easier.

It’s easy to pretend this is just an unplanned sleepover. This isn’t the first time you’ve spent an evening puking up your soul and washing your face without proper skincare products because your drunk ass never made it home.

This is okay.

This is livable.

All you have to do is sit tight and keep behind a locked door. Easy enough.

The light stays on. Even if it makes you uncomfortable, you can’t resign yourself to the total dark again. But you step out. Better to enjoy the illumination from a distance.

You wedge yourself into a corner between the empty living area and the hall to the bath and bedrooms, keeping away from the windows. No one said anything about snipers, but you have seen movies, and even if there isn’t a ghost out there with a gun, windows are an opportunity for the wrong person to see you moving around.

In the day, windows are eyes looking out. At night, the eyes turn in. It’s the kind of lesson you learned as a girl. Be aware, because someone wants to take a look without asking. Someone is hiding in the car beside yours, so be careful where you park. Don’t walk with headphones in. Kidnappers like to grab long hair and ponytails. There’s always someone who wants to hurt you, and they’re always going to be bigger and stronger, so the only way to win is to see them before they strike. This is definitely not the situation you grew up imagining, but you’ll take the intrinsic paranoia of being a woman in public as the gift it is in the moment.

Headlights from passing cars sweep the room from time to time, and you freeze like a deer as the LEDs paint the walls white. The beams cutting through the empty windows feels like a countdown, gears in a clock turning, and as the number of cars grows, you gradually notice some of the light stays behind, weakening the shadows where you hide. It’s closer to dawn than you realized, and soon this awful fucking night will end.

A knock shatters the silence, and your hand falls to your pocket, where your phone waits. Didn’t the woman say she would call? Could she have forgotten, or…?

Another series of knocks interrupts your train of thought, and you wrestle with the urge to leap towards the door the way you lunge to a ringing landline. Habit.

You get to your feet, backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to decide whether to approach the door or go hide deeper in the safehouse. It’s a Choose Your Own Adventure story from hell with no way to turn back to the previous page if you get shot.

In the end, someone else makes the choice for you.

A key rattles in the lock, and grey morning light floods the space as the door swings open to reveal three tall, clearly male silhouettes. They file through and shut the door quickly – too quickly? A smiling blond in the front approaches, hands up, trying to put you at ease.

“Hey, ready to go?” He talks like he knows you, but you most definitely do not know him. It tugs at your stranger danger trigger, and your hands flex against the urge to raise defensive fists. He’s American. The woman on the phone was American, too. Maybe that’s a good thing. “We’re here to get you somewhere secure, okay? Got a car out front.”

The other two sweep the room, move down the hall, clearing the rest of the safehouse with handguns easily hidden under their casual civilian clothing. The leader sounds like he’s from Boston. The other two have a bit of South in the mouth from what you catch of their brief commands and replies. It’s all very official. They’re professionals. There’s no reason to think they’re anything other than what they claim.

The smiling man knew where to find a key, so logically, someone in command told him. They knew where to look. They know you’re supposed to go somewhere with them.

So why do the hairs on the back of neck prickle?

Another lesson from your teen years pops to mind: If it feels wrong, it probably is.

Your phone jumps to life in your pocket, and you seize it with dread and hope as the man’s eyes dart to your hand, his smile suddenly and mysteriously missing.

“Don’t.” A flat command with a threat rippling under the surface like a riptide.

You hesitate, locking in place like he’s drawn a gun on you. “Why?”

He smiles again, more forced than before. “Because you don’t need to. We’re already here.”

His bullshit steams in the morning sun as it drops from his lips.

It feels wrong.

It is wrong.

You leap back and accept the call.

“Team’s five min – ”

You shout over her as the man lunges, talking faster than you realized you could. “Three men! Had a key! Americ-”

The blond tackles you, his shoulder in your diaphragm, and the air leaves you with a squeak as your back slams into the thin carpet. He’s heavy, and you hit the ground hard. As you blink away stars, you distantly hear the woman’s voice from where the phone has fallen a few feet away.

“Shut-up,” the man growls, driving his palm into your face.

His hand pushes over your mouth, and you don’t stop to think before sinking your teeth into the asshole’s skin. It isn’t the first time you’ve had reason to bite a bitch, and you hope it won’t be the last.

He jerks away with his own yelp.

You haven’t quite gotten your breath back, and you barely manage to bleat, “Help,” before the window of opportunity closes again.

A backhanded strike sends your vision spinning, leaving you discombobulated long enough for all three of the men – all shouting over each other – to roll you over and zip tie your hands behind your back. A heavy stomp and distinct crunch tell the fate of your phone.

You’ll tell the woman at the end of the line no more secrets. That tie is severed. You scream again anyway, because maybe someone is close enough to hear you. This is a residential neighborhood. Someone may wake up and feel heroic.

“Shut-up.” The leader smacks your head into the floor to make a point, and your teeth catch on the inside of your cheek. ��We could’ve done this nice and easy. Painless. Quiet. But you wanna be a bitch? You wanna play games? Fuck it. Fine.”

You pull against your restraints, trying to get up on your knees as the blond addresses his friends, “We’ll do this at the warehouse. Grab her.”

Swearing, the other two heave you onto your feet and start dragging you out of the safehouse. One makes an attempt to fling you over his shoulder, but you kick and writhe until you tumble off, so they make due with hauling you by the arms as your heels scrabble across the carpet, the doorway, the concrete. You’re losing ground. They’re taking you away. And your mind is full of frantic thoughts about kidnappers and secondary locations and dropping survival rates.

One keeps a gloved hand over your mouth when it’s clear you won’t stop screaming no matter how many times they tell you to. Well-behaved women seldom make history, and well-behaved hostages rarely live to tell about it. There is no reason to go quietly into that good night, and fuck if you won’t fight them every inch of the way.

But they’re bigger, and stronger, and they get you to the car.

The blond leader waits by the trunk, holding it open with one hand while he cradles the one you bit near his chest. You get a glimpse of red teeth marks before his teammates literally toss you into the trunk and slam it shut.

It’s darker than the safehouse, and with your hands trapped, you can’t find any of the emergency pulls designed to help people in just this situation. One of the simplest horrors – losing control of your own body – tightens your throat. You can’t defend yourself. Can’t even put your arms over your face the next time one of the bastards takes a swing at you.

The engine rumbles to life, and your kidnappers peel away, flying over speedbumps and taking tight corners in their rush to leave before the real escorts arrived. You roll and slip at the mercy of inertia. Both fortunately and unfortunately, there’s nothing sliding around with you in the dark. While a crowbar or tire iron could’ve stabbed you or given you a concussion as you bounced and crashed around the narrow space, they might’ve helped free your hands. The best you can do is guess at where the taillights are and try to stomp through the corners.

You do not succeed.

But you keep trying as the coarse flooring scours a rug burn into your cheek.

This could be your last chance to get away, and if you can get the trunk open, you’ll gladly jump into the freeway. Tied hands and all. Living with one less limb or a broken spine is better than dying slowly in a warehouse. Right?

You don’t get to make that decision.

The road turns rough under the wheels, and you nearly vibrate to pieces, collecting bruises as you collide with the ceiling, floor, and walls.

You taste blood, probably from where you bit your cheek. Or maybe from the slap. Or any of the dozen times your head struck something during the ride.

It isn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be, at least. But you’re bleeding. You just got the blood off your hands, and now it’s on your tongue. Your wrists sting where the plastic zip ties cut too tight. These men will kill you. They will hurt you until you’ve told them whatever they want to know, and then they’ll throw your body somewhere filthy for scavengers to tear apart.

You’re helpless.

The feeling sits like uneasy bile in your gut, churning with raw fear and howling anxiety as you fight back tears.

Shocky. Is that a word? You feel shocky.

The facts of your reality are a little too much right now, so your consciousness pulls back half a step. It’s happening to you, yes, but not in an immediate way. It could be a vivid thought experiment, or a dream you’ll realize is a nightmare when someone shoots you in the head and you don’t die. Your mind just lets all the feelings slip between open fingers to fall in a pile at your feet. The writhing miasma of panic and discomfort screams, trying to crawl back up your knees, but it doesn’t hurt so much down there.

You’re distancing yourself. That’s the word. Maybe it will help when they take you apart.

The car rolls to a stop. Your heart nearly stops with it. You hold your breath as the engine shuts off, listening to each shift the men make as they exit the car. The squeaks of old seats and aging suspension echoes through the trunk, and slamming doors send shockwaves through your bones as the men crunch over gravel to reach the back. The hatch pops open, and the fully-risen sun blinds you.

How long was the drive? Hours? Minutes? The sky is awfully bright.

As you squint, tears automatically beading in the corners of your eyes, the leader speaks up.

“We done playing games, or you gonna make this difficult?”

You lash out. Even if your hands are bound, your legs are still free, and you kick like a mule when the first man reaches for you. You miss him on the upswing, but he’s balancing with one hand on the trunk’s lip, and your heel slams down hard on his knuckles.

He wheels back, cursing, but you don’t have time to celebrate. Before you get your leg back into the deep, dark depths of the trunk, the leader grabs you by the ankle and yanks you out. The latch digs into your back, and you shriek as you go face-first into the gravel.

You’ve taken your pound of flesh from all three. The leader has your bite on his hand, you hopefully fucked up one goon’s fingers, and both of the supporting meatheads should have good bruises from your resistance on the way out of the safehouse.

None of them are well pleased.

“Fucking fine then.”

Still holding your ankle, the leader moves towards the decrepit building they’ve parked behind. He’s a bulky guy, but he’s got a bad case of vanity muscles. He can’t walk and pull at the same time. It’s step – drag – step – drag – step.

The little stones jab through your clothes, slicking into exposed skin and grinding deep bruises along your hips. Growling, you kick and wriggle, aiming for the asshole’s wrist and knee as you try to inch away like a worm.

He loses his grip, and for a blessed instant you think you’re free. Then meathead one and two each take an arm and haul you inside before their leader loses any more face. They don’t give you a chance to get on your feet, clearly frustrated with the whole ordeal. You aren’t a threat, but you’re a pain in the ass, so they treat you like the problem you are.

Spotty sunshine cuts through broken windows like dozens of spotlights in the wide storage room. The remaining glass is too filthy for anything but a muted glow to creep through. Still, there’s enough light for stubby grass to grow in the cracks. The place has seen better days, and rustling wings answer the thugs’ heavy steps as a flock of nesting pigeons take to the air. Everything smells like bird shit and mold.

The leader drags a rickety wooden stool to the center of the room, and the goons force you up to sit on it. Like most stools you’ve encountered, this one is a little too tall, and your toes don’t quite scrape the ground. The support rungs where you might’ve rested your feet for balance have rotted away to splintered stumps, and your sneakers paw the air, trying to balance, before you realize your escorts aren’t letting go.

Blondie steps in front of you, insincere smile back on his face. Clearly, he feels in control again, now that he has two grown men holding you down so you can’t run, can’t fight back.

“We know the hand-off didn’t happen,” he says, almost friendly. “We know you met with the handler, though, and he definitely had time to tell you something.” Leaning in, he lifts his brows, feigning an open expression as hands squeeze the blood from your bound arms. “I need you to tell me two things. I need you to tell me exactly what the handler said to you, and I need to know exactly how much you’ve told Laswell. That’s it. You can still make this easier on yourself. Just tell me the truth.”

Your jaw clenches shut. Your lips seal closed in a frown. It’s instinctive, almost defensive, like crossing your legs and leaning away when a man crowds you in a bar. He can’t have what he wants. You won’t give it to him.

You don’t even know who Laswell is, but you assume she’s the one who directed you to the safehouse.

A flicker of irritation warps the leader’s face again, and he says, saccharine sweet like fruit about to rot, “We could always do a cavity search to make sure you didn’t receive anything.”

You don’t take time to think. Following your gut, you sneer, giving the bastard elevator eyes even his goons will notice. Meeting his gaze again, you simply say “Gross.”

The following slap leaves your ears ringing. It jogs some of your disassociated mind back into your body, and you blink rapidly, searching for your equilibrium as you stare into the corner of the room, where his strike turned your head. Something wet wells over your upper lip, and when you try licking it away, you get a mouthful of copper.

“Fine. Fine!” The leader moves behind you, throwing up his hands. He rustles through something where you can’t see, muttering under his breath, and you wonder if he’s ever done this before.

Maybe he’ll give up. Maybe, if you keep quiet a little longer, they’ll just…

Rough hands force your left pinky straight, and something cold presses against your fingertip, pinching the nail.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s gonna rip it off.

It doesn’t even hurt yet, but you can’t catch your breath. It’s evacuated your lungs before the screaming starts, and you go deathly still as you try to brace yourself.

The pliers lift and tug in a quick but ruthless motion, ripping the nail from the bed, and your vision goes white.

Pain too intense to stay in your finger crackles through your shattered nerves, and you struggle to fold in on yourself as every muscle tries to get away, to physically disconnect and run from your own hand. Your lungs won’t expand, and squeaky, stuttered cries punch out as you try to breathe.

“Just tell me what you know! It’s not that hard! Jesus!”

The pliers settle on the next nail, and you start hyperventilating. It’s just pain. It will pass. It’s just pain. It will pass. A friend once confided he’d studied torture-endurance tactics when he started running. You cling to them as the second nail lifts and whimper through a desperate inhale. The key is time. Nothing lasts forever. One way or another, it has to stop eventually. It isn’t as effective as it probably was for your friend, though, because his torture ended in a good shower and cool glass of water.

You aren’t ready to die.

But you don’t talk, either.

The asshole on your left jerks you hard to get you to quit shaking so his leader can grasp the next fingernail, but it’s not something you can voluntarily stop. “She’s not talking. Just shoot her so we can get out of here.”

The leader throws down the pliers, and they clatter across the brittle concrete. He paces behind you. Each step sounds like the second hand of a clock ticking away his patience, ticking away the minutes you have left to live. “He wants to know the extent of the breach. Our mess. We clean it up.”

His teammate scoffs, “Just because you want to impress him –”

“This isn’t about impression anyone, dumbass!” The leader’s voice pings around the empty warehouse, and you flinch, ready for that anger to turn on you. He marches back from the corner his pacing took him to, snapping at his associate over the top of your head. “What do you think happens if we don’t meet his expectations? If we don’t fucking exceed them? Think he’ll just shrug and call it a learning experience? Fucking – dumbass!”

“Bet he’d be angrier if we get caught because you wanted to exceed his expectations.”

Silence. A full thirty seconds. You count them in your head, like you’re playing hide and seek.

“We’re running out of time.”

The leader sighs. A rustle. Something clicks, something you imagine is the safety of a gun, and the men holding you in place lean away without letting go.

You struggle, jerking and swaying so you almost knock over the stool, but the men anticipated your fight against the end, and their bruising grips crush to the bone.

Something brushes the hair on the back of your head, gentle as a kiss. Oh, it’s definitely a gun.

“Last chance.” The leader still acts like he’s being reasonable, that his inconvenience is greater than your entire life. Like he ever could’ve been the hero in this scenario.

Now that he’s shown his hand, you have no reason to speak, even if you had planned to. Caving to his demands won’t buy back your life. It might not even win another hour. You didn’t get the message out, so you’ve already failed. And you’re going to die.

Doesn’t mean you aren’t terrified. Your face drips with tears and blood. The salty tracks sting what you assume is a cut on the side of your face, and every breath of wind stirs the naked nerves on the tips of your fingers to fresh agony.

You don’t want to cry, and you sure as hell won’t beg these assholes for anything. But you can’t bear to watch, so you close your eyes like a child, face screwed up as you wonder how much the bullet will hurt on its way through your brain, how much you’ll feel before it ends you.

The hands on your arms tense. The barrel of the gun presses firm and cool against your scalp.

A crack like thunder shatters the stillness, and it’s amazing that you can still hear the men holding you down yell and jump after you’ve been shot.

Another bang, and the man on your left lets go as something warm sprays your face.

Your eyes pop open.

That shouldn’t happen. You’re supposed to be dead.

The man to your right yanks you off the stool and pins you to his front with an arm across your throat. Using you as a human shield. Because.

He’s the one in danger.

You register the dead bodies of the blond leader and the one who argued for your execution on the floor. Blooming pools of red seep from wide holes in their skulls. Something greyish oozes from the hollow of the goon’s former expression.

The last surviving teammate has you facing some of the high, broken windows, and you recall your fears of a sniper when you cowered in the dark safehouse.

A new gun pushes into your temple, and you try to twist away only for the man to squeeze your neck so hard he cuts off your air. You aren’t sure if means to choke you, but you can’t fucking breathe. Unbalanced, with your hands still tied behind your back and a gun to your head, there’s nothing you can do but slip and stumble where he pulls you – presumably out of the sniper’s line of sight.

As he tries to drag you towards an exit, the door falls in with a boom, and two large men with much bigger guns than your kidnapper’s rush him.

“Drop it now! Get on your knees!”

Your kidnapper doesn’t comply. He whips back and forth, putting so much pressure on your throat your vision dances with black spots, and your feet drag, almost entirely limp, over the floor.

“I’ll do it! Back off! I’ll shoot her!”

The two men move in concert, orchestrated like a pack of wolves as they split up and gradually move on the hostage-taker. The man drifts back towards the stool and his dead friends without realizing, far too involved with the nearer guns to remember who’d killed the others.

He grinds the gun against your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut again. How many death threats can you survive in one day? If the approaching team doesn’t move faster, you’ll suffocate before you get shot.

Your shoe slips in blood, and as you feebly scramble to keep your feet under you, a third shot reverberates through the room, and you’re falling. The man holding you tumbles forward, pinning you under literal dead weight with his arm still twisted around your neck.

You only have a moment to panic, and then big hands are tugging the corpse away, and the light seems as bright as it did when your kidnappers opened the trunk. You can breathe, and the oxygen shudders into you like a punch to the sternum. Coughing, you try to remember how this breathing shit is supposed to work.

One of the men quickly but carefully rolls you onto your side so he can cut off the zip ties, and your hands ache with the rush of blood to your fingers. Including your mangled nailbeds. Ah, fuck. Those smart.

The second man kneels in front of you, pausing to speak into a radio while his partner gets you free.

“Good shot, LT. Target down. Securing the package now and moving to exfil.”

He is very Scottish, and that puts some little, anxious voice in your head at ease. The group who took you was American. This is not the same club. As if shooting the kidnappers wasn’t enough to prove that. But for whatever reason, the accent matters more to your rattled mind.

The man behind you helps you sit up, and as you flex your hands, as happy as you are hurt, he asks, “Are you seriously injured? Can you walk?” A nice, English accent. It has the same effect as the Scot’s voice. These are friends. They’re here to help. Even if they’re even scarier than the men who first took you.

“I’m… fine.” A lie. “I can walk.” In theory.

They hadn’t done anything directly to your legs, but everything feels shaky and unsteady, so you aren’t sure how well they’ll hold once the adrenaline drops.

“Okay.” The Scot pulls you the rest of the way to your feet with the same firm efficiency as his comrade as the Englishman turns with a raised gun to watch the room’s other exits. “I need you to hold onto the back of my vest.” He takes your undamaged hand and guides your grip over the heavy strap covering his shoulder. “Just like that. Very good. Just move when I move and we’ll get you out, yeah?”

You nod, feeling small and strange – he’s bigger than you initially thought, and you feel like a child hanging onto him like this. But you understand what he’s doing, and you’re slightly more confident in your ability to leave on your own two feet now that you have some physical support.

“Okay.” He lifts his gun and signals to the second man. “Let’s move.”

It’s a short, cautious trip back into daylight. The Scot checks corners as you progress, keeping himself between you and potential threats ahead while the Englishman guards the rear, ready for an ambush.

When you escape the shadows of the warehouse, a black SUV races up to meet your little band. You flinch back, but don’t let go of the Scot’s tactical vest, and the young man behind you rushes to assure you all is well before you bolt. “It’s our team. Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

The Scot opens the door, hops in, and because you’re still holding onto him, you go, too. Behind you, the rearguard leaps in, and the vehicle takes off before he even wrangles the door shut.

It takes a moment and the Scottish gentleman clearing his throat before you realize you haven’t released him, and the hold leaves you kneeling awkwardly on the bench seat between the two… soldiers? Agents?

He does the hard work for you, unfolding your fingers the same way he brought them to the vest. “There you go, hen. You’re alright.”

Anxious, face burning, you slip down to sit like a functional adult with your ass on the leather and your feet on the floor. Two more men sit in the front, one with a rifle. One with a fucking fishing hat. That’s all you can see around the headrests. Nothing sticks in your head as you look around, and you can’t see out the tinted windows very well past the bulky men with their outsized guns.

You’re alive. You’ve been rescued. But every little sensation, every dawning thought and fact make you feel worse. Small. Trapped. Rushing somewhere out of your control.

You feel, once again, very terribly like a civilian caught in the wrong world.

#ghost x reader #captain price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #x reader #poly!reader #cod mw fanfiction

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jpmarvel90 · 1 year ago

Text

All for the mission

Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Relationship: Sister Nat, Sister Yelena x Sister Reader. Wanda x Reader

Summary: Growing up in the Red Room with Natasha and Yelena, Y/n was hurt when she woke up one morning to find them gone. Her life is forever changed by this moment and their reunion doesn't look like it'll bring any chance to fixing things.

Word Count: 12364

Y/n's POV:

I grew up in the red room. It was hell, but the one shining light was my sisters. Natasha and Yelena. I was the youngest, but we looked out for each other, doing what we could to make the others lives easier. We used to whisper to each other at night about our plans to leave. We had hopes for a better life. And that happened, for Yelena and Nat at least.

Early one morning I was dragged in front of Dreykov and was told about how my sisters had escaped together, left in the middle of the night. I was just 15 at the time but that didn't stop the brutality that was to follow. Although we had talked many times about escaping, I knew nothing about their attempt that night. Not that Dreykov or his dogs believed me. As they had lost their two greatest assets, I was to pay the price.

For a whole month, I was locked away in a cell where bright lights were never turned off and loud music played. The only release I would get was the brief walk to the "Interrogation room." But then a new hell would be inflicted on me as I was beaten and tortured. Initially for any information they could get. When they realised, I did in fact know nothing, they did it to punish me. I had a cup or water and two slices of mouldy bread a day. Barely enough to keep me alive. My body is now covered in scars from that brutal month. A reminder that I was expendable to my sisters. Not even worth a second thought as they escaped to start their new lives.

After that month, I was put back into the training programme. I worked my ass off. Not because I wanted to do well for the red room, but because I wanted to be as strong as possible and trusted to go out on missions. I had to escape, and I knew that was my only option.

It took four years before I got my opportunity. A part of me wanted to run as soon as I got my first solo mission, but I had to plan it all perfectly. It couldn't be a mission in the middle of nowhere, I had to have a means to not just escape but find a place to hide. Over those four years, I learnt every way in which they monitored the widows that went on missions. I then worked a way to make sure I could stop all of it to give me the best chance of getting away.

I was meticulous in my planning and finally the perfect opportunity came up. The mission was in the middle of Rome. I would have plenty of opportunity to escape. I just needed to make sure I got rid of all means of tracking me. I was so nervous as they dropped me in. I had to spend a week in Rome first to stakeout my target. This worked perfectly for me as it meant that I had money. I could buy clothes that I knew were clean of any tracking devices. I stuck to the shops near the target to not arouse suspicion. To the red room, I was just keeping up appearances. Blending in.

I ate as little as possible that week, knowing I would need the money to ensure my escape. Once I made my move, I had to be quick, and I wouldn't have time to be begging for help. It was the day I had to take out the target. I had found the most advantageous spot to carry out the assassination. It wasn't practical to their mission, but it was to mine. It provided me with an easy escape to the metro.

So as the time came, I set up my position before starting my daring escape. I was on the metro before they even noticed that I had left my position. Seems it was to my advantage that they had an idiot on comms that day! I got off when I knew they had noticed and found a bathroom to change. I then had the hardest part, cutting out the tracked from the back of my neck. It hurt and bled like a bitch, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I patched it up and jumped back on the metro to my next stop.

I had found a hair salon near Roma Termini. If I had this right, I would have time to cut and dye my hair before getting on the first train out of Rome. Every time I moved, I was careful to keep my face hidden, either wearing a cap or keeping the hood of my jacket up. It all seemed too easy and before I knew it, I was in France. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't. It just was that easy. My four years of planning had paid off and I was finally free.

I spent the next year moving around mainland Europe, keeping a low profile. But by my 22nd birthday, I was settled in London. I had a job in a bar and a small crappy apartment. To most people, it wouldn't have been great. But to me it was everything. I was free.

I had no desire to follow in my sister's footsteps in become a superhero. I wanted a normal life. Yes, the horrible things I had done still haunt me, but I couldn't risk being caught. If I was, I knew that it would not end well, and I would either be tortured and killed or tortured and back to being a widow. My ledger would only grow.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. I was happily walking home one evening and it felt like someone was watching me. I took the long way home, turning at the last minute or dipping down alleyways. The presence felt closer than ever, and I knew it was time to fight. Before the hand could even reach my shoulder, I had grabbed it and flipped the shadow over my shoulder, avoiding their attempts to fight me off. I had them pinned under me and I saw a familiar smirk. "You've grown mladshaya sestra. (Little sister)"

Anger rages within me and the next thing I know, my fist is connecting with her nose. "Fuck! Ok, I deserve that." Nat says, grabbing at her nose as I stepped off her. I don't want to see her or have anything to do with her. She left me and I'm going to do the same now. I turn and walk away. "Y/n, wait!" Nat calls after me but I ignore her, taking a short cut through the park to my apartment. "Please!" She shouts. "Deep breaths Y/n. Just keep walking and she'll go." I tell myself. "I'm sorry!" She shouts in a desperate attempt to get me to stop.

It works and I stop in my tracks. I turn around to face her, a fire inside of me. "You're sorry?!" I shout at her as she reaches me. She flinches at my voice. "You left me in that hell hole. That was bad enough, but did you even consider that there might be consequences for those that you left behind?!" I yell at her. She doesn't answer me. "Of course, you didn't. We talked about escaping for years and when it finally came to it, you left me." I say in a much quieter tone, the hurt winning out.

"You were just a kid Y/n. You were safer there than if you came with us." She tries to convince me, but I just scoff. "You have no idea what happened to me when they found you gone. But I'll tell you one thing, I certainly wasn't safer." I turn to walk away again, wanting this conversation to end. "We were planning to come back for you!" She calls after me. It makes me stop again as I let out a loud laugh. "Really?! I was there for over 4 years. No sign of you." I chuckle sadly. "But I guess you had other priorities right. Like being an Avenger, keeping up your reputation." I seethe.

"I was coming back for you now. It's how I found out that you had escaped. We want to help you." Nat tries to reach out to take my hand, but I snatch it away. "I got out of that hell hole all on my own and I certainly don't need any help now. Especially from you!" I fumed. "Please pauchok. (Baby spider.)" She pleads with me. "Don't call me that. I don't need you and I don't ever want to see you again!" The pain in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed. But I really don't care. She hasn't been my sister in years.

Turns out, I would have to see her again. Every evening in fact. She found out where I worked, and she would come into the bar every day. The only interaction we would have, was me serving her drink. She would try to start conversations, but I ignored her. I wasn't going to let her in.

One night, to my surprise, she brought Yelena with her. Her body collided with mine as she pulled me into a hug. "I missed you pauchok." I peeled her off me and pushed her away. She frowns at my actions as I don't say a word to her. "Y/n?" She questions, as I return behind the bar. "What can I get you?" I ask her without making eye contact. I notice Yelena look to Nat with sad eyes. "Vodka." She replies taking her seat next to her sister. I place the glass in front of her and pour. Then turning my attention to other customers.

This goes on for weeks. Neither of them getting the picture that I don't want to talk to or see them. After a month, a new face is with them. I don't recognise her, but she is beautiful. It takes me a moment to compose myself before I take their order. "Y/n, this is Wanda. Wanda, this is Y/n our little sister." Nat introduces us. "We're not sisters. We just grew up together." I correct Nat, a wave of hurt flashes across her face. "But it's nice to meet you Wanda what can I get you?" I ask. "Uh, just a pinot please." She speaks quietly, but her accent is familiar. "Sokovian?" I question as I place the glass down in front of her, to which she nods. "Ah. Sorry about what happened there." I say and she shrugs. Getting the sense, she doesn't want to talk anymore, I go back to my job, and more importantly ignoring my sisters.

Wanda started to come in more with Nat and Yelena. I knew what they were trying to do. It was my weakest area. I'm a sucker for love and Wanda was exactly my type. I was always pleasant and nice to Wanda, whilst my "sisters" still got the cold shoulder treatment. She became more comfortable around me, and we hit it off.

She started to come in on her own and then one day asked if I would go on a walk with her. I happily agreed and we went around Hyde Park, getting to know each other. She was so easy to talk to and I felt safe around her. "I know that you're only here because of my sisters." I tell her as we take a seat on the bench. She looks up at me and her mouth opens and shuts a couple of times before she finds her words.

"I'm not actually. They were always talking about this amazing sister they had and showed me pictures. When Nat found you, she showed me a photo she had and there was something about you that I was drawn to. I had to get to know you. So, I asked Nat if I could come with her to meet you one time. She reluctantly agreed and here we are. This is all me Y/n." She reassures me, taking my hand in hers.

And that's how things went for the next month. We spent every day together and I was quickly falling for her. "You know, you really should talk to your sisters. They just want to make sure you're safe and help to get you back on your feet." Wanda says as we snuggle in my apartment. "But I am on my feet. I was never happier until they came back in my life. I've never felt freer." I defend. She adjusts herself so she can look at me better. "They really are sorry. Is there really no way you can forgive them?" She asks with her puppy dog eyes.

I sigh and roll out from underneath her, sitting on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. "It's not that simple Wanda. They just left. One day they were there and the next they were gone. And as their sister. I was the one who had to pay for it. I went through hell, and it was directly caused by their actions." I say, my voice muffled by my hands.

I feel my hands slowly being pulled away as my eyes land on the red head on her knees in front of me. "Tell me what they did to you." She whispers. "You don't want to hear it." I tell her, not wanting to burden her with any of it. "Please?" She asks, cupping my face. Her eyes bore into me, and I knew I was done for. So, I told her. I shared with her what I faced in the month after they left. The different ways they caused me pain and the way they used me as their own toy. Her eyes were red the whole time I spoke. Her anger no longer able to be supressed.

"Show me." She whispers when I finish baring my soul. "What?" I question. "Show me your scars. I want to see all of you." Her words are soft and full of love. I slowly undid the buttons of my shirt and let her push it off my shoulders. She gasps when she sees my torso littered with scars. Her hands slowly running over each one. I can't look at her. Ashamed of the monster they made me. "I'll kill them." She says quietly but there is a venom to her voice.

When she's finished taking in my form, she puts her finger under my chin and lifts my head so I'm looking at her. Her eyes are glossy and full of pain. "These are proof of the strong woman that you are. They show the fight you had to come through to get to where you are today. Never, be ashamed of them." She tells me firmly. I nod slowly, fighting my own tears. She leans in and captures my lips in a soft kiss. We've kissed before, but this one felt different. Like she was showing me that I was accepted and loved. It was the kiss that made me realise I would do anything to stay with her.

That was a decision that came sooner than I thought. The next week she came into the bar, her face showing that she had been crying. She told me how she had to go back to New York. She begged me to go with her, that I could live with her in the compound. I wasn't sure at first. I still wasn't on talking terms with my sisters, but my heart was breaking knowing that if I didn't go with her, I didn't know when I'd see Wanda again.

So, I agreed. I packed up what little I had in my apartment and followed her to New York. I was given my own room in the compound and shown all the facilities that I could use. Turns out they were expecting me. Apparently, Natasha and Yelena had talked to both Tony and Fury about me moving in way back when they found out that I had escaped. They wanted to keep me safe there. I must admit, I could feel the anger towards them starting to thaw, but I knew it would be a long time before I could truly forgive them.

Not wanting to just live off the Avengers, I got myself a job in a local bar and I really was having such a great time. Wanda and I were stronger than ever. Slowly, I was engaging more with my sisters. I had even started to train again. It was nice to have an outlet for my anger. Though it did become a bit of a showcase as I was one of the few that could take down Nat. Which was a surprise to a lot of them.

I formed a quick bond with Tony. I loved being in his lab and I helped him as much as I could. Most days I was with him, he was trying to convince me to join them. But it wasn't for me. Not now at least. But I promised him I would never completely rule out the offer.

Which for him worked out, because he was persistent. I guess you could say I became a part time Avenger. I still wanted to do my job in the bar. It gave me a normality I had craved all those years in the red room. But I also I found a newfound enjoyment in helping out on missions. It was a good balance.

I had been living at the compound for about 8 months now. I was meant to be at work today, but one of the pipes burst so they had to close up and they sent us all home. I was excited to get home as it meant more time with Wanda. She had only just gotten back from a mission at the weekend, so it was a blessing to get some unexpected time together.

When I got to the compound, I heard shouting coming from the common room. I made my way in that direction when I heard my name. Being the nosy person I am, I stayed back, not making my presence known. "I can't do it anymore. It's not fair. It's been 9 months of lying and doing something that I never wanted to do in the first place." Wanda complained. What is she on about? "Maximoff, you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be part of the mission. You knew that you would have to keep up the rouse with Y/n until we knew for sure that she wasn't under the red room influence."

What the fuck?! Was I just a mission to her? "Wanda he's right. We're so close to the end. You just need to hang in there." The voice of my sister feels like a burning knife to my chest. Was this all just a mission. Did they even want to come and find me? I knew I should have stuck to my instinct and not trust them.

"Maximoff, you will continue on with this mission for one more month. That's all I ask. Romanoff, Belova. Keep up what you're doing. We're not far from defeating the red room now." Fury's order ring around the room as my heart completely shatters. I decide now is the best time to make my presence known. I step out into view, and I see all of their faces drop. "I'm glad to know that I'm just a mission." I say as they all stand speechless. "But at least now I know, you don't to keep up the façade anymore Wanda." I say turning my back to leave.

"Y/n! Wait!" Wanda calls after me, grabbing my arm. "Let go of me." I growl, but she doesn't listen. "It's not what it looks like. Please, don't go." She begs but I shake my head. "In the park, when you said this wasn't my sisters doing. I guess you didn't lie. I just got the wrong person. It was Fury. God, I'm so stupid. I can't believe I actually fell for it and even fell in love with you!" I ranted. "No, no. Please." Wanda pleads again. "Answer me one question and I'll consider staying." I say to her, and she nods frantically. "When you came into the bar that first night. Were you there because you truly did want to meet me, or was it part of the mission?" Her head instantly drops, and her gaze is fixated on the floor. "I guess that gives me my answer." I slowly peel her hand from around my arm and walk away. Only this time to be stopped by my sister.

"Y/n." Nat says, moving in front of me, blocking my exit. Yelena by her side. "No. You know, I thought that leaving me in that hell was bad enough. But this. This hurts more than any pain I've been through." I trembled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall. "You spent all that time trying to get me to forgive you, but it was all lies!" I cry out. "Tell me. Was it all a mission for you too? Were you actually trying to find me?" I can read the answer across their faces, but I want to hear it from them. "ANSWER ME!" I yell, causing both of them to flinch. "We weren't looking for you. Fury had learnt about you and when he found out you were our sister, he gave us the information to find you and to see if you were working for the red room. But we were so happy...." I hold my hand up stopping her straight away.

"You don't trust me. You have spent all this time trying to get me to forgive and trust you, but it was all a lie, because you don't even trust me. After you left, I was tortured and raped all because you were my sisters and had managed to escape their clutches. For four years, I had to fight to stay alive and keep my sanity so I could get out myself. Which I did! I had a normal fucking life. Something I had never thought I would get. But no! I'm the one that can't be trusted! Fuck you!" I scream at them.

I push past them and run to my room before anyone can come after me. "FRIDAY, don't anyone in." I instruct the AI. "Of course, Miss Y/l/n." I start throwing as much as I can in a rucksack. Luckily, I had saved as much money as I could, so I didn't need to worry about that. After a few minutes there is banging at my door. "Y/n, please! Let us just talk." Yelena begs from behind the locked door. I ignore everything they say until Wanda's voice pipes up. "Y/n, baby. Please open the door. It wasn't just a mission. I-I love you!" She cries. "STOP LYING TO ME!" I shout, I can't take listening to it anymore. "FRIDAY open the door please." Nat as, but the AI declines. "Miss Y/l/n has requested the door remains locked. Only Mr Stark can override it." I can hear her sigh. "Yelena, go and get Tony." Nat instructs our sister.

I know that I don't have long to get out of here before Tony gets here. I also don't know who else in the compound was in on this mission. But I'm not sticking around to find out. I leave the promise ring that Wanda had given me on the bedside table. Yanking it off my finger as it felt like it was burning my skin. Knowing the door is a no go, I make my way to the window and take a look down. Luckily, I'm only two stories up. It'll hurt a bit, but if I land it properly, I should be able to get away uninjured.

I push my bag out first and then I'm quick to follow it, just as I hear Tony's voice in the corridor. I sprint as fast as I can to the edge of the compound, not wanting to be seen. I can't believe this is my life again. On the run, but this time, I've got to watch my back from both sides, as it seems I can't even trust my own family.

Nat's POV:

Well, we have royally screwed up. When we finally get Tony to override FRIDAY to let us into Y/n's room, she's already gone. Her window open and my little sister fled. I go to the window in the hopes to see her, but there's nothing but darkness. I'm so stupid to have agreed to this. I'm so scared of the red room beating us that I couldn't even trust my own sister.

We made the worst decision when we decided to leave Y/n behind. We thought she was too young and would be a burden to us as we tried to escape. We did always plan on going back to her, but we go so caught up in proving our loyalty to SHIELD, that it kind of fell to the wayside. Once our loyalty was proven, we spent so much time on missions, we didn't have the chance to think about getting our sister back. It is and will forever be my greatest regret. Well, this moment may come a close second.

When Fury came to Yelena and me to say that he had information on our sister, I couldn't believe it. We hadn't long heard rumours about Y/n being killed in the red room. We mourned her, even though we knew that the rumours were unlikely true. But seeing the picture of her behind a bar, it was clearly her. I may not have seen her since she was 15, but she's not changed, she just looked older and more jaded.

We had no info on when she actually managed to escape. It was part of the reason why Fury was suspicious of her. Instead of trusting my gut and Y/n, we played along with him. Wanting to make sure there was no way that Y/n was under the influence of the red room.

It hurt Yelena and I when she ignored us. She was hurt and I can't blame her. But her words were as sharp as knives and each one hurt. It was so obvious we had let her down and although this was a mission. I was determined to make sure that she was safe, and I could do that best from New York. It was Fury's idea to bring in Wanda.

I had questioned it at first, I knew that Y/n falls hard. It was one thing to do what we were doing, but this felt like it was crossing a line. Wanda was happy to do it and Fury's mind was set. So, I watched as my sister fell in love with one of my closest friends. Knowing if she ever found out, it would break her heart. What took me by complete surprise, was the fact that it was obvious that Wanda felt the same. She too was falling for Y/n. That is how we came to be in an argument with Fury.

Wanda wanted to stop and tell Y/n the truth. She knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Y/n and she couldn't do that on a foundation of lies. But we still couldn't confirm Y/n wasn't working for the red room. Had I not let my desire to clear my ledger and the fear of what the red room could do, I would have seen how Y/n was just living her best life. She was free, something she had always dreamt of. Of course, she would have had no loyalty to the red room. Instead, I make her believe that I have no trust in her and that I never wanted her back in the first place. Which is a complete lie.

Once she moved into the compound, Yelena and I worked so hard to show her how sorry we were and how much we wanted her in our lives. Slowly but surely, she was coming around to us and we started to have a positive relationship. It was the happiest I had been since the red room. Being back with both of my sisters safe. I naively thought that if we could just take down the red room, Y/n would never need to know about the betrayal. Everything would have worked out. But that damn pipe at her work screwed everything up for us. Ok, that's a lie. We screwed everything up.

Seeing the hurt on Y/n's face caused me physical pain. I hated that once again I had let her down. But what hurt the most. What felt like I had just had my heart ripped out, was hearing that she was tortured and raped as a punishment for us escaping. We genuinely thought she would be safe. She was better than both of us and we knew she was an asset to them. We never thought they would go that far with her. But we completely got that wrong and I'll never forgive myself. She's my little sister, my pauchok and it's my fault that she is hurting.

Y/n had been gone for a week and we had no luck in tracing her. Tony and the others were not happy when they found out what we had been doing. They were non the wiser and had been fed the same line as Y/n. She was moving here to be safe from the red room. The only thing now is I think we've made the target on her back even bigger. She was helping us on mission, and it will have just put her back on their radar. Maybe we should have left her in London, she was safe there. I should never have listened to Fury.

Wanda was a mess. She shut herself away. When she saw the promise ring on Y/n's table, it broke her. Yelena and I would spend time with her but she'd just cry and plead for us to find Y/n so she could apologise. I don't think she thought she would fall for Y/n when this started and I'm sure she only agreed to do it because she feels like she still has to prove herself after everything that happened with Ultron. But here we are, the three of us completely broken and it's all our fault.

I spend my nights awake, wondering if we'll ever find her, and if we do, if she could ever forgive us. I wouldn't blame her. We don't deserve it. But I pray to a God that I don't believe in, that she would give us a slither of a chance and we'll do the rest.

I'm still spending every minute away from missions, looking for Y/n. I think I've found her in Reykjavik. But I don't want to go and risk losing her. I need to be 100% sure before I go in. So, I monitor the situation as best I can whilst following up on other leads. But that all stops with the receipt of a video. A video that makes my world completely stop.

I call the whole team into the briefing room, too scared to the play the video on my own. If this is what I think it is, I'm going to need the teams help. When I press play, I instantly hear a choked-up sob come from Wanda as a beaten and bloodied Y/n appears on the screen. Her hands are tied up and attached to a butcher's hook above her head. She's just in a sports bra and shorts, exposing all of the wounds that they have inflicted on her, both old and new.

I look to Yelena, and she has a look of horror on her face, which probably matches my own. That's our little sister and once again, she's being tortured at the hands of Dreykov because of us! "Hello Natalia and Yelena. We found your little sister here. We've been monitoring her since she started fighting on the wrong side. It was a surprise to us when we found her, she must have gotten too comfortable in her western ways!" The face of the man I loathed filled the screen and I wish I could reach through and strangle him, inflict all the pain that he was causing to Y/n.

"Wake her up!" He snaps, to one of his little guards. He grabs a taser and it jolts Y/n awake. "Welcome back Y/l/n." He sneers. Y/n's one eye, that isn't swollen shut, looks up at the camera. "Oh goody! A camera, who knew you were kinky!" She jokes. God, she's going to get herself killed! With her words, a swift punch is landed on Y/n's face. But she just spits out the blood and laughs. It seems to irritate Dreykov and he starts his interrogation. "Tell us, what is Fury's grand plan?" He snarls in Y/n's face. "Urgh, someone needs a breath mint!" Y/n scrunches up her face in disgust. That comment earns another swift punch to her gut, making us all finch at the cracking sound of a rib.

Dreykov carries on in asking her lots of question which he gets a sarcastic comment in return to. Which inevitably follows by some form of pain infliction. Each time, I flinch as Y/n tries so hard to not show the pain. Considering that we betrayed her, she's not giving anything away. She could easily answer all the questions she is being asked, but she doesn't. Once again just proving how wrong we got this. How wrong I go it!

I feel a hand clamp on to mine. I look to the source only to see Yelena, teary eyes fixed on the screen as our little sister gets a knife gash across her shoulder. I squeeze her hand back, trying to give her some form of reassurance, but I don't have much belief myself.

Wanda is sobbing as she watches her love being tortured in front of her, completely helpless to do anything. "Tony, can we do anything to trace this?" I ask, pleading in my head we can. "FRIDAY's working on it. Seems like they're not so smart and left a gateway through the telnet port. Hopefully through that we'll be able to triangulate a rough location." He explains. That seems to give me a sense of hope. Maybe we can find her.

After what seems like hours, Dreykov stops his attack and turns to the camera. "Natalia, you can see what we can do. If you want to save your sister, you know what you have to do." He threatens. Y/n's laugh breaks through the tension. This causes Dreykov's head to snap around to face her. "And what are you laughing at pauchok?" The use of the pet name has me fuming, the anger I thought was already at it's limit still growing.

"They're not there. They don't care." She sadly chuckles. The confusion on Dreykov's face doesn't go unnoticed. "You took a dead end. Wasted your time." She adds on, lifting her head to make direct eye contact with him. "You still don't get it do you. I wasn't lying all those years ago when you hung me to this same hook. I knew nothing about their escape. They didn't want a kid like me following them around." She explains and I can see as the realisation hits Dreykov. "But you fought with them. Lived with them." He questions back.

Once again, she laughs, but I can see the pain in her eyes as she speaks. "They may help the ordinary person, but they're no better than you, using people for their own gains. They just give you a comfy room whilst they do it." My head drops at her words. She's right, how can we preach about being the good guys when we've treated her like this. "My own sisters didn't trust me. Believed I was still working for you. I just wanted a NORMAL FUCKING LIFE!" She shouts, tears now falling down her bloodied cheeks.

"I was safe and happy. But they manipulated that. Used my weaknesses against me. I always used to think you'd never beat me because I still loved with everything I had. But now I see it, you're right. Love really is just for children. It gets you nothing but heartache and makes you weak and vulnerable." I look over to Wanda at this point and, if it's possible, I think I just saw her heart break even more.

That was something Yelena and I always admired about Y/n. Through all of the hell we went through, she still loved and cared for people. She never let them break that. The irony that her very family were the ones to actually make her give up.

"Tony, please say you have something. We don't have much time." I beg, knowing that Y/n's life is very much on the line right now. "I'm dispensable. No one really knows who I am. There is no one who will mourn me. But you've shown your hand. I'll die today but you won't win." I can't bare to hear her talk like she is. I'd mourn her. All those years we were apart, I felt like a part of me was missing. Then when we got her back, even when she was giving us the cold shoulder, I felt like I was whole again.

My eyes don't leave the screen as I see Dreykov step towards Y/n. "You always disappointed me. Always in the shadows of your sisters, never quite able to match their ability. And here you are, still disappointing me. You know what I do with lose ends?" He growls. "Cut them." And with those words he plunges a knife into Y/n's torso and twists it. "NO!" Yelena and I both shoot up from our seats. "You'll never win." Y/n whispers with a smirk, bloody starting to drip from her mouth.

"I've got a location! They're in Mexico. Suit up and in the Quinjet now!" Tony shouts, but I'm still staring at the screen. "She's no use to us now. She's not got long. Do as you please with her then leave." Dreykov coldly speaks as he wipes the blood from his hand. Forgetting the video, it carries on playing as his goons take turns in hitting Y/n like a punch bag. "Natasha, come on. We have to go now if we've got any chance of saving our mladshaya sestra." Yelena's voice pulls me back to the room, and I instantly run out to change and get ready to kill the son of a bitch.

The flight on the quinjet thankfully didn't take too long. Which was good as every minute counts. Who knows what they're doing to her right now. I just pray that she's still alive, clinging one. But I could see it, she had given up, accepted her fate of dying. "We need a plan for when we get there." Steve says looking to me. "Yelena, Wanda and I will go to Y/n. The rest of you, clear the building and get Dreykov. Then leave him for us." I order. Nice and simple.

Everyone agrees and as soon as the jet touches the floor, we are running out and heading in. There weren't many guards, clearly this was just a holding place. That works to our benefit. I pushed down every feeling I had to focus on getting to Y/n. I couldn't let my fear of losing her overpower me right now or I'd be no help to anyone. "Over here Natasha!" I hear Yelena shout. With one swift kick, I take out the last guard and rush over to her, Wanda not far behind. "It's locked, but I can hear those assholes in there!" She says as I grab the handle and try it for myself. "I'll deal with it." Wanda states, pushing us back out of the way.

Red whisps come from her hands and within seconds the door is off it's hinges. I gasp as I see Y/n's bloodied form. She's almost unrecognisable. The pool of blood under her body shows that she doesn't have much time. The guards in the room have a smug look on their faces as they turn to see us. "The boss will be so happy when we turn up will all three of them!" One of them sneers. With one swift movement the same red whisps wrap around his body and that smirk is soon replaced with fear.

"I saw you in the video. You enjoyed this the most." Wanda growls, her eyes completely red now as she stalks towards him. "I'll be sure to enjoy this, and with those words she snaps his neck, his body falling to the floor. Yelena and I fight off the three remaining men. As soon as the last body hits the floor I rush over to Y/n.

"Oh my God. What have they done to you?" I whisper. "Yelena, help me get her down." I order. We carefully lift her, but the movement jolts her awake and has her crying out in pain. "Y/n, it's Nat. We're here to take you home." I speak softly, slowly moving some of her hair out of her face. Yelena has taken off her jacket and is using it to try and stop the bleeding from the stab wound that Dreykov inflicted. "I don't have a home." Y/n struggles to say as her eyes flutter close. "No! Keep those eyes open pauchok. Yell at me, tell me you hate me, just don't go to sleep." I beg. Hearing how much she hates me would be better than this silence as she falls into unconsciousness.

"Let's get her to Bruce." I say, slipping my arms under her and lifting her into me. "We have Y/n. Bruce we're on our way to you." I shout into the comms before rushing out as quickly as we can. Yelena doesn't let up on the pressure to Y/n's stomach and Wanda's eyes only leave Y/n to open a door or take out the last few guards. "We have Dreykov." Tony announces through the comms. But right now, it's the last thing on my mind. I just want Y/n to be ok.

Bruce is waiting for us in the medical area on the jet. I gently place Y/n's body down onto the table and step back allowing Bruce and his team to get to work. My arms reach out to grasp around Yelena. I need her close to me and I know she does too. I notice Wanda looking lost, so I hold my hand out to her, which she easily takes. The three of us watch as Bruce fights to save Y/n. Minutes slowly ticking by.

"She's crashing! I need more blood, adrenaline and atropine." Bruce shouts his orders and the team react instantly. It feels like my own heart has stopped as we watch Bruce start compressions. With each jolt of electricity that is used to try to restart her heart, we collectively flinch. Tears are streaming down my eyes as I watch our sister slowly fade away and it's all our fault.

Bruce looks over to us and I see the pain in his own eyes. The short time Y/n had been with us, she had made close friends. Everyone loved her. I'm waiting for him to tell us that he's done all he can. That Y/n, my sister who I was meant to protect, is dead. He goes to open his mouth but it's like he second guesses what he wants to say. He simply turns on the spot and returns to working on Y/n.

He refuses to give up and I couldn't be more grateful when the heart monitor starts to beep. We all let out a collective sigh of relief. But it doesn't last long. "Aw, your pauchok is still alive. I guess I'll have to try harder to squish her next time!" I storm over to Dreykov who has his arms handcuffed behind his back. My fist connects with his smug face, knocking his body to the floor. Yelena is quickly by my side delivering a swift kick to his stomach.

"I'll get out. A prison won't hold me. I have friends in high places." He taunts from the floor. "That won't be a problem if we kill you." I snarl back to him. "You're not a killer anymore Natalia. You've done soft. The Avengers have tainted you." He's so sure of his words. Looking up I see the Avengers, my friends, my family, looking at me. Steve gives me a nod and turns his back, walking towards the jet. It's his silent way of telling me to do what I have to do. The others soon fall in line and it's just Yelena, Wanda and I left.

"You know. I hated my life in the red room. I've spent my whole time trying to make up for the horrible things I did whilst I was under your control. I lost sight of the fact that I gained two of the most important things to me whilst in that hell. My sisters." I tell him, connecting my boot to his face. "She'll never forgive you." He smirks through bloodied teeth. "You're right. I don't think she will. But I won't make the same mistake twice in not protecting her." I tell him, crouching down in front of him. "You two can go. You don't need to be a part of this." I say to Yelena and Wanda. But neither of them move.

"I want to watch this man die after everything he's done." Yelena hisses. "And I want to see him pay for the hurt he's caused to Y/n." Wanda adds on. "You're no different than us if you kill me." He speaks from the floor. I can see he's panicking now. "The only difference is, as much as I want to drag this out and cause you as much pain as possible. I won't. I'll make this quick." I stand up and take my gun from my holster, pointing it to his head. "Wait! No please..." I don't give him a chance before I pull the trigger. The bullet lodging in his skull.

Without giving him another look, I walk away, Yelena and Wanda following behind. When we get to the jet, we all go straight to Y/n. "She's stable for now, but she'll need surgery as soon as we're back at the compound. I've called Cho and she'll be waiting for us." Bruce informs us. "Thank you for saving her Bruce." Yelena says, taking Y/n's hand in her own. "She's not out of the woods yet. But she's strong." He replies, placing his hand on Yelena's shoulder.

The journey back to the compound is much calmer than when we left. The three of us never leave Y/n's side as we make the journey home. Just as Bruce said, Cho and her team are waiting for us and take Y/n straight to the medical wing. "You three should go and clean up. Y/n will be in surgery for a while. I promise I'll update you if anything changes before you get back." Tony tells us. None of us have the energy to fight and I can't bare to have Y/n's blood on my hands for much longer.

After Y/n's surgery, she falls into a coma. Her body had extensive injuries and it's a miracle that she is even alive. But we have no idea if or when she might wake up. Even if she does, she'll have a lot of recovery to go through. Between Yelena, Wanda and I, one of us is always with her. A lot of the time all three of us just sit with her, telling her how sorry we are, begging her to wake up. But nothing changes.

3 weeks. That's how long she's been led in this bed unconscious. Each day I'm losing hope that she'll ever wake up. But I won't give up on her. I have to be there for her as much as I can. Even if she has no clue that we're here. It's a Tuesday lunch time and the three of us are eating our salad around Y/n's bed. Filling her in on the latest stupid thing Tony did. Wanda suddenly grabs at her head in pain. "Are you ok Wands?" I ask, placing my hand on her back. "It's not me." She groans. I instantly turn my head to see Y/n's eyes flicking. "Y/n. pauchok? Can you hear us?" I say, gently running my hand through her hair.

I turn to tell Yelena to get Bruce but she's already out of the door calling for him. When her eyes eventually open, they dart around the room, trying to identify where she is. "You're ok Y/n. You're at the compound you're safe. Bruce is on his way." I try to reassure her. Having her awake, all I want to do is tell her how sorry I am and beg her for forgiveness. But I can't.

Wanda is by her side, her hand interlocked with Y/n's. But we all step back when Bruce enters the room and let him do his thing. She's not very responsive but Bruce looks somewhat happy. "She'll probably be in and out of consciousness for a while, but she seems to be doing ok. I'll do more test when she's more with it and I'll have a better idea at what we're dealing with." He explains before leaving us to it.

Over the next few hours, she goes in and out of consciousness, but we never leave her side. She becomes move communicative as she does, giving us the bare minimum to show she's awake. "Why are you here?" She asks when she's more with it. "I know you have no reason to believe or trust us, but we wanted to be here for you." She looks around the room at all of us but doesn't offer a response.

"Good to see you're awake. Would you mind giving us the room so I can run some tests?" Bruce asks us, taking Y/n's chart. We slip out of the room and stand by the window observing as Bruce carries out his checks. "Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" Yelena asks, the sadness evident in her voice. I sigh knowing I can't really give her the answer she wants. "I'm not sure she will. It was so hard to get her forgiveness when she came back in our lives. As much as that was real to us, it was based off of lies." I reply, giving no reassurance at all. But it doesn't pay to live off false hope.

Wanda stands there quietly, lost in her thoughts. "Are you ok?" I ask her, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I love her so much. I know it started as a mission, but I fell for her, hard. I can't bare to think that I've lost her. I know it's all on me, but I have to at least fight for her. You should do the same." She says before walking out and leaving us.

Over the next week, Y/n was starting to heal. Bruce had warned us that she would have to go through extensive physio to even have a chance at a full recovery. The beating gave her a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and there is damage to her spin, which at the moment has resulted in paralysis from her waist down. Something Bruce is hopefully will be temporary with the help of physio.

Much to Y/n's dismay, we all stuck around. After what happened, Fury agreed to allow us all an extended leave of absence, only to be called upon for world saving missions. It meant that we could dedicate our time to helping Y/n recover. We are determined to show her that we're being completely honest and want to be there for her. I just don't know if she'll accept it.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that whole experience was hell. I thought I was going to die after Dreykov stabbed me. I had come to terms and accepted my fate. In my mind, I genuinely thought that I was alone. After everything that had happened with my sisters and Wanda, there was not one part of me that thought they would come for me. Especially as it risked opening them up to the risk of being capture by the red room again.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm so unbelievably hurt by it all, but they were there for me when I thought I was alone. But that doesn't make up for everything they did does it? It makes it harder to know what I'm feeling when they're around me all day being sickly sweet. When I heard they had all taken a leave of absence, I was shocked. Nat has always been so focused on making up for her wrongs, missions have become her life.

Seeing Wanda is the hardest. I still love her. That isn't going away any time soon, especially when I wake up to her, my hand clenched in hers, her beautiful red hair splayed over my legs. The pining looks she gives me don't help either. I know exactly how I feel, but I don't have a clue what is real and what is fake anymore. My trust radar is completely out of whack so I've gone completely on the defensive and built up my walls as high as I can.

On top of all this emotional stress, my body is broken. I'm stuck in a hospital bed having to rely on other people to help me do basic things. What makes it worse, is it's the people that I don't want to be around that are doing them. They've managed to scare off every nurse that Tony and Bruce have brought in to help and it's getting frustrating. Everything is just getting too much. I know even if I make ground in rehab, I'm not ever going to be back to where I was. I'll be no use to them for missions, so it won't be long until I'm back on my own anyway. I have sisters I can't trust and who don't seem to trust me and I woman I'm madly in love with but so incredibly hurt by. I just don't know what to do.

Sensing my frustration, Tony was able to convince the others to let him take me to my physio appointment. I was trying to get the use of my legs back. I can stand but walking is proving difficult. It was a relief to not have apologetic and pitying eyes on me the whole session. "Come on Y/n, you've got this. Just one step that's all." The physio, Mark, encourages. I frown as I have failed at every attempt to do this today.

I have a sheen of sweat on my forehead as I hold my body weight up on the two support poles beside me. If Dreykov could see me now, he'd laugh at what he had turned me into. I shake my head, trying to fight off the intrusive thoughts. I manage to get my leg to move forward in an awkward step, but I smile as it's the furthest I've got so far. "Amazing work Y/n!" Tony encourages me from the side. I place my foot down but I get the weight wrong and I'm tumbling to the floor, Tony's arms just catching my head before it could bounce off the padded base.

"You did great today Y/n. Let's get you up and try again." Mark says in an annoyingly enthusiastic voice. "I think she needs a rest." Tony suggests, already seeing my anger. "But she's so close, just one more try...." "No." I growl lowly. "No?" He questions me. "I can't do this anymore! I'm just useless! Leave me alone! Just get out!" I yell, tears forming in my eyes. Mark doesn't need telling twice as she scurries out of the room. But Tony doesn't listen to me. He just sits there holding me as I'm still in a heap on the floor.

My chest is heaving as I breathe heavily from the anger and effort I had put into today. "Talk to me." Tony says softly. "I look between his eyes, my own full of tears. I don't see pity. I just see care. "I'm scared." I admit quietly, afraid of my own voice. Tony doesn't respond, he just lets me reach the words I need in my own time. "I know I'll never be back to how I was. Which means when I leave here, I can't guarantee my safety. Before when I was on my own, I knew I could fight out of most situations. But now I'll be hindered. Dreykov may be dead, but there will be others in his place and my head will still have a bounty on it." I express.

He frowns as I talk but lets me finish. "Why would you leave here?" He questions a little surprised. "I can't bring anything to the team. I know the only reason that you let me stay before was because you were trying to work out if you could trust me enough to be in this team. As soon as my recovery is done, I'll have to leave." I reply but he just scoffs. "You have value without your fighting skills. Do you know how much work you help me do in the last 8 months? You'd be such an asset for me in my lab. But even if you didn't want to do that and just work in a bar. I pay for this place, and I'll decide who lives here and you're one of them. You're not going anywhere unless it's because you want to." He tells me firmly.

I smile at him, appreciating his support. "But I know that's only half the issue Y/n. The other three have refused to leave your side these last few weeks. I sigh, knowing ultimately the main reason for this conflict in my head. "I learnt to trust and forgive them again after everything they did when they left the red room. I can't be angry at them for leaving for a better life." I admit and he nods. "But I feel betrayed that everything was a mission to them these last few months. Did they actually want me to be back in their lives? Was I still an inconvenience to them? Then there's the whole Wanda situation. I don't even know if what she felt for me was real. And that terrifies me. Because I gave everything to her, I was vulnerable, and my walls were completely down. But now? Now I feel like that love was just used and abused all for SHIELD's benefit."

Saying this all out loud is actually helping. I feel a weight lifting off my chest sharing with someone, that I do actually trust, how I'm really feeling. "Y/n. I know what they did was inexcusable. But I can tell you now that Nat and Yelena were so excited for you to come to New York. I've never seen Nat like it before. She was soft. When we were waiting for your arrival, they couldn't sit still. They had spent time trying to make sure you had everything you'd need in your room. It wasn't just obligation." I think over his words, still unsure how it makes me feel.

"And Wanda. That girl has never been able to hide her feelings. The amount of times I would catch her just staring at you with eyes full of love, a smile on her face. You could be doing the simplest of things and she would be there watching you as if you were hanging the moon and the stars." He smirks at me as he remembers. "But she, all of them, hurt me." I state and he nods. "I know. I'm not saying forgive them. I just wanted you to know, that yes, maybe this was all a mission, but I truly believe that they care and love you. Maybe it'll help you get the closure you'll need."

I instantly pull Tony into a hug, even in our awkward position on the floor. He hugs back within a heartbeat and chuckles. "You're already getting your strength back I see." He says, pretending to choke. "Sorry." I say, letting go of my death grip. He helps me up off the floor and takes me back into the hospital room.

I get about 20 minutes of peace before two assassins darken my doorway. "Can we come in?" They ask. "You've never asked permission before." I snap back to them. "We realise that we've been a bit over the top these last few days and weeks." Nat admits shyly. It's very unusual to see her like this, the confidence drained from her. I nod and they both enter, taking a seat to the side of my bed. "How was physio?" Yelena asks when an awkward silence fills the room. "Ok. I took a step..." "That's great!" Nat interrupted but I shook my head. "Then fell on my ass." I add on and see them both frown.

"I told you I didn't like that, Mark. He's a fraud." Yelena huffs to Nat. "He's a physio Yelena, he's just trying to help." Nat defends. "Then why did our sister end up on the floor?!" Yelena shoots right back. I find it quite amusing seeing their little back and forth. It used to entertain me greatly back in the red room. It was some of the only humour I got.

After their bickering ends, Nat has been able to convince Yelena to not kick Mark's ass. "Did you just come in here to argue or was there something else you wanted?" I say when they finally stop their fight. The two of them look between each other and sit up straighter. "We would like to talk. But we'd also appreciate if you would let us finish before you say anything." Nat answers. I sigh but wave my hand for them to continue.

"I'm, we're both so sorry. I know that's not enough. We have let you down and betrayed you twice now. There are no excuses for how we acted this time around. But please know that we are both so happy that you are back in our lives. When Fury told us that he found you, we were so happy. We had heard rumours you were dead and that broke us because we thought we missed our chance to make things right. But when we got the chance to do that, we royally fucked up." Nat starts, Yelena nodding along the whole time.

"We have always trusted you. Although it may not seem like it. We were scared we'd lose you and wanted to do everything in our power to keep you safe and with us. So, we listened to Fury and agreed to this stupid mission. But it back fired and you ended up getting more hurt than either of us thought possible." Yelena now takes her turn to speak. I've never seen her talk with such sincerity before. No sarcasm or snarky comments.

"You died. We watch you die and then watched as Bruce fought so hard to bring you back to us. It was all our fault, if we had just been honest from the start, you'd be fine now. Not having to learn to walk and do basic things all over again." Nat takes a breath before looking at Yelena, who gives her a sad nod. "We know that you probably won't be able to forgive us and, as much as it hurts, we're ok with that. We just wanted you to know, that it was real to us. All of it." She finished her little speech and I let the words sink in.

They both give me a smile and stand up to leave. I watch as they get closer to the door. I'm sure they're walking slowly, hoping I call after them. "Oh, I'm going to regret this." I mumble to myself. "Wait!" I call after them. They both spin around to face me again. Expectant looks on their faces. "You're right. I'm not sure if I can forgive you. Not easily anyway." Their faces drop at my words, and I notice Yelena reach out to Nat's hand, seeking comfort. "You know, I worshipped the ground you walked on when we were in the red room. I would go to bed every night and dream of what we'd be like when we would finally escape and be free. This is far from that dream." I share and they both nod.

"I'm willing to try to, you know, maybe work things out." I say almost at a whisper. Both eyes suddenly lock on to me, but I can't meet theirs. "But there can't be anymore lies and you need to be patient with me. I don't think we can fall back to how we were." I explain, finally lifting my head to see my two sisters, who's eyes have tears brimming in them. "Really?" Nat whispers and I nod. "oh pauchok. I promise, we'll do everything you ask. We won't fuck this up this time." She replies through a cry.

"Can we hug you?" Yelena asks timidly. I nod hesitantly, but the moment both of them wrap their arms around me, I feel safe again. There is a part of me that hates that I feel like that so easily. I still want to be mad and angry at them. But I'll take this moment, this feeling. It's a long way, but I hope maybe we can get some resemblance of the relationship we used to have.

The next few days are like the others, though the tension with my sisters is a little less. I thought that after our talk they would be back to working and backing off a little. But they don't, they promised me there were here until I was fully recovered, and they were sticking by it but promised to respect my boundaries. I really appreciated it.

I had noticed that Wanda had been around less. I thought it wouldn't bother me, but I guess I found comfort in her presence. But I can't blame her, I haven't been the nicest person to anyone recently, and regardless of what happened between us, it's no excuse for me to be a dick.

Today I was having a rough day. Physio was hard, although I'm getting a couple of steps at a time now, the frustration that it's not progressing quicker really hindered me today. I fell, a lot, and I'm hurting. My mood is low and I'm really just not in the mood to see anyone. But tonight, my sisters decided they didn't want to respect my boundaries.

"Come on! Up in the chair, you're getting out of this room and getting some fresh air." Nat orders with a big smile on her face whilst Yelena is fighting with me to put a coat on. "I'm quite comfortable in here. Please just take your cheeriness away from my dark cloud today!" I complain. Both of them just laugh at me. "Oh, mladshaya sestra. Let us help to cheer you up." Nat cooed. I reluctantly agree, knowing that it'll be easier than fighting. Besides, I've barely been outside since I ended up in the medical wing.

They help me up into my chair and roll me to the small lake in the grounds of the compound. As I get closer, I see a familiar red head, standing awkwardly, picking at the skin around her finger nails. It's then I notice the picnic blanket and food dotted around. "Well, have a nice evening." Yelena says, letting go of my chair, which carries on rolling as it's on a slope. "Hey, what?! Wait!" I call after them. "You didn't need to push her." Nat scolds as they run off. "What, the witch will catch her." I hear Yelena defend.

And she's right. As I turn around to stop the chair, Wanda is already there, her hands on the arm rest to stop me going any further. "Hi." She squeaks when our eyes meet. "What's this?" I ask, pointing towards the little set up. She rolls me closer and offers to help me out of the chair, still not offering an explanation. I raise my eyebrow at her not letting her help until I get some idea of why we're here. "Can you please just sit with me, and I'll explain?" She pleads. Against my better judgement I agree.

She helps to lift me out of the chair and onto the blanket. She is then quickly throwing another over my lap to keep me warm. My eyes are firmly on the ground, embarrassed that I still need help to even get in and out of this damn chair. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it." Wanda's voice breaks through my thoughts. "It's not weak to need help." She adds on. I sigh and look at her. "I'm sure you didn't bring me here to talk about my wheelchair." I say, a hint of frustration in my voice.

She quickly shakes her head. "I love you." She blurts out and it takes me by surprise. I can tell by her body language there is no lies, but I still find it hard to believe. "Yes, it started as a mission, but it very quickly stopped being one for me. All the feelings I had, have, for you are real. I never should have agreed to the mission in the first place, but I was desperate to prove myself to Fury. I didn't even stop to think about feelings through it all. But once I started to fall for you, it was all I could think about."

She rambles on as all her feelings come tumbling out. "I hated lying to you. I should have ignored Fury and just told you the truth. I know that you still probably would have left me, but at least I could have explained it all to you. I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am, I'll regret what I did for the rest of my life." She's crying as she speaks "I wouldn't have left you." I say quietly. "What?" She questions. "If you had told me. I would have been really mad, but I wouldn't have left you." I tell her but that seems to make things worse. I guess it just reiterated for her that she made the wrong decision.

"But you have to understand how hard it is to trust what you're saying right now." I say with more confidence. "I do. But let me show you. Let me show you that everything I felt was real. You can do with it as you please, but at least you'll know the truth." She suggests. I think for a moment before nodding. She raises her hand to my head and red whisps appear before my vision is clouded. I see flashes of all the times that we're together and how she was feeling. It's almost overwhelming how much love she feels towards me. She also shows me the sorrow and pain she felt when I was gone. As my vision starts to return, she's looking at me with tears falling down her face.

"You don't have to forgive me or take me back. I just had to let you know that it was all true. I couldn't bare you thinking that I manipulated it in anyway." I really appreciate her doing that. It helps to bring me the closure that I need. "I'm not sure what to do with this." I admit and she scootches forward a little and rests her hand on mine. "You don't have to do anything. But if you don't push me away, I'd like to try and make things up to you. Maybe we can get back to being friends at least. Maybe one day you might find it in you to forgive me." She replies. "But for now. Just sit and enjoy this picnic with me?" She says but it comes out as a question. I nod and reach out for the plate on the blanket. It's a nice evening and there is no pressure.

It takes time, but I can feel the relationships between my sisters and Wanda starting to mend. They stick by my side through my recovery, along with Tony, and I didn't realise how much I needed that. All of their actions went to show how much they care for me.

A year after the kidnapping, I'm finally up and walking, with the help of walking sticks, but I'm not reliant on the wheelchair anymore. I'm helping Tony out in his lab, as he suggested, and I'm really enjoying it. Problem solving and building tech that helps people is really rewarding to me.

Nat and Yelena are slowly starting to go back on missions but are around a lot more. It took me a while, but I think I'm finally there in trusting and forgiving them. I feel like I have my sisters back. Along with it I gained a family with the Avengers. Something I never thought that I would get.

And Wanda you ask? Well, our friendship really started to flourish and became really important to me. But tonight, I think that friendship could be ruined. But in all the best possible ways as we're going out on our first official date.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff Fanfiction #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x Reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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fanficshiddles · 25 days ago

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Run, Vampire!Chris Motionless x ofc One Shot

Summary: Vampire hunter Louise has been after Chris, one of the most ruthless vampires, for years but he keeps escaping her traps. Not to mention the way he enjoys toying with her, making her think she almost has him, only at the last second to realise she doesn’t. This time, however, she is sure she finally has him killed… However, she soon realises she was wrong when she goes back to check his grave. Now she has to deal with a hungry and pissed off vampire.

Warnings: Blood, obviously. Typical stuff that comes with a vampire story. Near death. Implied non-con/kidnapping.

Note: Been wanting to get this idea written down since the warriors video came out. Finally got round to doing it!

Louise’s hands were shaking as she made her way cautiously through the forest, the only light she had was from the moonlight shining through the canopy of the tall trees.

She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was going back… he was dead, she knew he was. There was just something niggling at her, wanting to confirm for sure that he was still buried and still… dead.

Vivid memories from yesterday’s events flashed through her mind. Fighting with the vampire, thinking he had the upper-hand again as usual. Though at the last second when he thought he was about to get away from her, she actually managed to trick him by using her best assets.

Her breasts.

He may be a vampire, but he was still a hot-blooded male, too. As soon as she pulled her top up, revealing her breasts to the vampire, he halted in his tracks. Shocked him long enough for her to pull out a wooden stake and she was able to drive it right into him.

Seeing the shock in his eyes was a memory she knew she wouldn’t be able to forget. Then seeing his large body hit the ground with a loud thud… Dragging him into the forest hadn’t been easy, it took a lot of energy out of her, but once she had him far in amongst the trees, she buried him as deep in the ground as she could possibly dig.

Finally done with him.

Yet, here she was, going back to his grave to make sure. She had thought once she’d taken him down, she would be delighted and feel relief. Yet, she felt… strange. She couldn’t put her finger on why though. She knew it was a good thing, it meant she would be able to carry on hunting other vampires without the worry of him ruining it, laughing at her misfortune when he would interfere.

Coming back out of her thoughts, she came upon his grave. It was covered over with leaves, but as she kicked some out of the way, the dirt was untouched. Just like it was yesterday after she’d patted it all down with the shovel once she was finished.

She let out a shaky breath of relief. Or was it relief? She wasn’t sure anymore. He was dead, it was done. He was gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned on her heels and slowly began walking away, to head home. She stopped when she heard something, sending shivers down her spine as her body stiffened.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned around. The sound of leaves rustling got louder as suddenly two hands came bursting out from the dirt.

‘No… surely not… it can’t be.’ Louise whispered, her voice shaky as her eyes widened.

Though the evidence was right there on front of her. She recognised those tattooed hands anywhere. He was alive.

Chris pulled himself up out of the grave, spitting dirt out of his mouth as he crawled forward, before stopping and slowly raising his head. His eyes met Louise and a wicked grin spread across his face upon seeing the hunter frozen to the spot, looking like she had just seen a ghost.

Move. Run. Ran through her mind, but her legs just wouldn’t budge. She stared at the vampire in disbelief. It was definitely him. His black shirt and jeans were ripped, the hooded cape he wore was torn at the back, too. Half of his face looked off, like he had started to decompose slightly. He was covered in dirt, though as he got up to his feet and shook himself off, she noticed his eyes turning a dark, deep red… the colour a vampires eyes turned when they were about to feed.

He tilted his head as his grin grew larger, exposing his sharp fangs that seemed to glisten in the moonlight. ‘Well, well, little mouse. What good timing you have. I’m hungry… and it’s always handy when the meal comes to me for a change.’

Before he even took a step towards her, she managed to get her brain to kick into action. She turned on her heels and began to run for her life.

Louise knew better than anyone that she wouldn’t get far. She wasn’t sure why she was even bothering to run, not only knowing it would be futile, she knew that it would kick his instincts into overdrive, making her situation worse. He loved the thrill of the chase, most vampires did. But she wasn’t just going to stand there and let him kill her, what else could she do?

Over her heavy breathing as she ran, she could hear his wicked laughter echoing all around her, bouncing off the trees. Twigs crunched under her feet with every step she took and leaves rustled, making it obvious where she was. Even if she was as silent as a mouse, she knew he would still be able to hear her. To sense her heartbeat and track her down.

Her heart was racing fast, like it was about to explode out of her chest. She had hoped to get back to her car, that she left at the edge of the forest, but she got herself confused and disorientated. Ended up going in the wrong direction as her legs began to burn, but she couldn’t stop. She knew as soon as she did, that would be it. He’d tear into her throat and bleed her dry.

Chris had never tried to properly kill her before, sure he had injured her plenty over the years and once bit her arm quite badly when they’d been in a struggle… She felt like it was because he didn’t find her a big threat, always mocking her for being a female hunter. But this time was different. She had almost killed him, he’d been so close to the brink of death, and she had buried him.

He was not only hungry… He was super pissed off.

She saw more light in the direction she was going between a few trees, she hoped it would be the end of the forest. So she put every last bit of energy she had into running, just a little further…

As she came through the trees, she only just managed to skid to a stop. Her heart hammered hard in fear as she realised she really was doomed. She was on top of a cliff, with a fast-running river down below. Rocks tumbled down the side from where she’d skidded to a stop, only just managing to avoid going over the edge. She had gone in the complete opposite direction to where she should have.

‘NO!’ She cried out as she fell to her knees in defeat, tears rolled down her cheeks as she knew this was it.

She heard his heavy footsteps coming up behind her and a low chuckle reached her ears. He was breathing heavy, too. Though not from exhaustion like she was.

‘Nowhere left to go now, little mouse.’ He growled low. ‘Did you really think you could escape me? After trying to kill me? You were so close, but you made one mistake that seems like it has cost you your life.’ He chuckled.

Louise took a few deep breaths. She was cursing herself for not taking any of her weapons, she didn’t think she would need them. Knowing there was no way out, she shakily got up to her feet and turned around to face her end.

He lifted up his shirt to show a hole in his chest where she’d driven the stake into him. She was just off from his heart, only hitting the very edge of it. He was a strong vampire, not easy to take down like most others. One chance she had, and she had blown it. Only partially killing him, but with his healing ability it hadn’t been enough.

‘It was a nice try, but not good enough.’ He took a step closer to her.

She couldn’t back up any further, or she would tumble down the cliff side.

‘Chris… p… please…’

He paused a moment and laughed, throwing his head back. ‘Ohh this is precious.’ He moved closer to her again. ‘You really think pleading for your life will save you? After you had the audacity to drag me into these godforsaken woods and bury me.’ He snarled angrily, now right in her face she could feel his breath against her.

‘You… you’re a vampire… I’m a hunter. Of course I did what I had to do.’ She whimpered, trying to keep her composure and strength, but it was quickly fading.

‘Well then. Me being a vampire, of course I’m going to do what I have to do.’ He mocked and his hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat.

She let out a cry as she clawed at his arm, though it was futile as he lifted her up with ease. Her legs began kicking back and fore as she panicked, his large hand was wrapped tightly around her neck and she wasn’t sure how long she would have before he’d crush her windpipe with the way he was holding her up.

‘I could just drop you. Let you fall to your death. However, I am hungry, so it would be a shame to waste good blood.’ Chris hummed as he eyed her up closely, enjoying the way she squirmed in fear, dangling over the edge.

Her face began to turn white from the lack of oxygen, so he tossed her down to the ground at his side. She gasped and cried as she gulped down air and tried to crawl away from him. He knelt down and grabbed her ankle, he dragged her back towards him till he was leaning right over her.

Louise tried attacking him, though she quickly found herself held down as he gathered both of her hands into one of his and pinned them down above her head. He straddled over her, using his body to keep her down as he leaned down and buried his nose into her neck.

He inhaled deeply. ‘You smell delectable. The fear is just flowing from you.’ He groaned deep in his chest, then paused for a second as he sniffed at her again. ‘With a hint of something else…’

‘My, my. Is that arousal I can smell?’ He laughed mockingly and leaned back ever so slightly so he could look her in the eye.

She turned her face to the side, away from him. With his free hand he grabbed her face and turned her back to him, forcing her to look into his terrifying red eyes. When he grinned again, she saw his fangs, up closer than ever before and they looked a lot bigger than she thought.

‘You can’t hide that from me, little mouse. What is it, the chase? Hmm? Or is it the compromising position I have you in?’ He asked as he squeezed her wrists. ‘Maybe a mix of both, perhaps?’ He slid his hand from her face down her body, sliding over her breasts and making her gasp.

As his hand moved down lower, she tried struggling again, though quickly realised that wasn’t a good idea. Since she was struggling right against him.

‘Oh, keep struggling if you want. That just excites me too.’ He chuckled as his hand slipped down between them and he snaked his hand between her thighs, pressing up against her. Even through her clothing, he could feel her heat down there.

‘Now, now. Look at me. Getting distracted yet again by your body. Can’t make that same mistake twice, now, can I?’ He smirked and brought his hand back up to her neck, he caressed the side of her neck with his fingertips, feeling her pulse.

‘Any last words before I drink every last drop of blood from you?’ He asked as he dipped his head down and licked up the side of her neck, then let his fangs drag across her skin, causing her to shiver.

She closed her eyes and said nothing as she tried to prepare herself for the pain and the end.

‘No? Very well then. Enough playing around. My father did always tell me I would play with my food too much, getting me into trouble.’ He said, amused.

Without any more delay, he sank his fangs into her throat, right into her veins. She let out a blood curdling scream as the pain shot through her like nothing before. It was brief though, not like she had expected. The sharp, deep pain grew into an aching throb, a strange sensation as she felt her blood rushing through her body, being pulled out of her.

Her head began to go fuzzy and light, she opened her eyes but the tops of the trees above her were spinning. She tried squirming one last time, but just felt the powerful vampire press his body down against her more, his grip on her wrists tightened, painfully. Almost crushing her bones.

All of her energy was drained out of her, she couldn’t cry or scream. She could literally feel the life being sucked out of her.

Chris growled ferally as he drank from her, her blood flowed down his throat and he started moaning, she tasted so good. His own mind was starting to go a little hazy with how delicious she was.

When he felt her body go limp, he knew she was almost gone. He managed to stop himself, just, with a loud growl he pulled his fangs away from her neck and he gasped out loud.

Her eyes fluttered open, she could barely register anything anymore. Though she could see his face hovering above her, her blood dripped from his fangs onto her face as his eyes were blazing a fiery red.

Chris smacked his lips together as he leaned back down and licked at her neck, getting the last few drops of blood and healing over the bite marks. Just leaving a stinging sensation, confusing her completely. She thought maybe he was going to toss her over the cliff, make her death a long drawn out one instead.

‘Mmmm… Lucky for you, you taste delectable. I’ve decided you can be my own personal blood bank instead.’ He rose up to his feet, releasing her. Though she couldn’t move an inch anyway, her body was too weak.

He bent over and lifted her up, tossing her over his shoulder as he began to head back through the forest.

‘Besides, I want to see what you taste like elsewhere.’ He growled seductively.

That was the last thing she heard before she passed out, just seeing the moonlight disappear as he carried her through the trees.

#Chris Motionless #Chris Motionless x ofc #vampire chris motionless #run #one shot

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cambion-companion · 1 year ago

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Woven Fate part 1

Exploring the idea of the reader/Tav being sent by Raphael's daddy to spy and distract him from power grabbing INSTEAD of Haarlep. Throwing into the plot that the reader is still kidnapped by the Nautiloid and thus becomes a keystone in Raphael's crown heist.

I'm starting this off as a drabble, to set the scene and get a feel for the reception of such an idea before I fully commit.

I really want this to be a multiple part series, perhaps with a prologue of how the reader was sent by Mephistopheles to spy on Raphael instead of Haarlep (or whatever Haarlep's name was before HoH).

Raphael x reader (gn) | reader's race is up in the air, though probably from infernal persuasion, I like giving you guys the freedom to use your imagination as much as possible | rivals/enemies to assets with benefits

“’Go distract my son’ he said, ‘it’d be easy’, he said.” You growled in frustration as, for the umpteenth time that week, you cleaned up after Mephistopheles’ infuriating son. “I can hardly report back to the old chap while elbow deep in his son’s shitter.”

You felt the familiar warping press of the planes flexing, signaling Raphael’s arrival back home.

You heaved a sigh. “Great.”

“What a lovely sound to return to.” Raphael greeted, strolling into the boudoir, not deigning to look at you. “Ready to return to my father with your tail between your legs?”

“For the thousandth time, no.” You sat at his ornate desk and propped your chin upon your hand. “Though I am putting my foot down. Utilize the slaves you have to do your menial labor, I’m done.”

“You are one of my slaves, pet.” Raphael murmured, a hard edge to his voice.

“I serve your father, Raphael. Or should I double check with him really quick?”

Raphael rounded on you, eyes burning. You stood to meet his anger, your defiance flaring corporeal flames around your body.

“You serve me.” Raphael said each word with dangerous emphasis.

“I’m going on strike.” You seethed back.

He towered over you, your noses almost touching, the mutual enmity palpable in the hot air.

“You are yet protected by the archdevil, for now.” Raphael’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he regained composure. He didn’t step away. “That does not shield you from my wrath, little impling.”

That rankled. “What’re you going to do, fuck me sideways on the floor again?”

“Begone, nattering pest.” Raphael waved a hand in agitation and turned from you.

“I know about your plans for the crown, Raphael.”

That stopped him in his tracks.

You smiled slowly. “This is precisely the kind of thing that led to my being sent here.”

“Then it is evident you are failing at the job my father appointed you.” Raphael tsked and began his daily ritual of setting in order his contracts. The rustle of parchment mingling with the crackling fireplace as he feigned disinterest. “What do you plan on doing with this information?”

“I’m keeping it close to my chest, for now.” You cooed, stepping near him and sliding your hand along his tense back. “Just wanted to let you know, master. I am a player not a pawn.”

Raphael caught your hand and held it tightly, squeezing until your fingers hurt. “Naive creature. Then you are bound to lose.”

“Who said I’m playing against you?”

The question hung in the air. Raphael breathed in slowly, deeply, his hand relaxing ever so slightly around yours. You slipped your fingers from his grip and kissed his cheek coyly. “Just a thought.”

Then you deftly made your way from his boudoir before you devised other ways to tempt the Fates.

You had indeed been dealt an interesting hand, and were determined to explore your options to determine which path would be most self- beneficial.

A plan that might have come to fruition had the Nautiloid not thrown a wrench in it. Traversing the vast barren fields of Avernus near the House of Hope, you saw the Mindflayer ship blast into being. Too close to where you were. You felt the horrible ache of familiar helplessness as the monstrous ship bore down on you.

A flash of white, an excruciating pain, then all went dark.

#raphael bg3 #raphael fanfic #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #multi part #drabble #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3

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einsatzzz · 8 months ago

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Profile Info + Project KHRe(:born!!!)

Hello! You can call me Ein. I'm an artist who's trying to improve my drawings and to manifest the visions in my brain. I also love OCs very much, whether it's mine or others' OCs. For more information, you can refer to my About page. Feel free to send an ask too if you want!

Blog’s Current Status: Active (can be inactive on weekdays)

OC Profiles (Oniyanagi Wiki)

Kurumi (Wiki Page ⬗ Character Tag)

Kana (Wiki Page ⬗ Character Tag)

KHRe Webcomic

Status: Planning/Writing/Organizing Assets & Refs Target Release Date: October-November 2024 (On-track)

Main Tags

#einart - Art posts on Tumblr since 2022.

#queue i can't put into words - Queued posts. I will occasionally remove this tag from older posts.

#khre - Posts related to KHRe:born's universe and related AUs.

↳ #khr oc - Posts related to KHR Original Characters, both mine and others.

↳ #khre oshiete - Posts related to KHRe OC asks answered under a "Oshiete Yuipachi-sensei" crack segment.

Project KHRe(:born!!!)

@amiahoshi (Sou) and I decided to call the project "Katekyo Hitman Re:born!!!"*. We call it either Re:born!!! or KHRe for short. This is my main brainworm cultivating mega-project that has several sub-projects under it (including the webcomic). Anyway, read below for more details on this project!

*Note: Inspired from T/oky/o Gh/oul's title, where it had "T/G:re". And it really just emphasizes the "Re" in "Reborn", meaning "again, do over" - mainly since it's a retelling. MOST importantly...it's very easy to remember for me and my goldfish brain.

So far, the major ambitious projects I have under this are as follows:

Oniyanagi Wiki

This is a wiki site I made in Miraheze and I have already set it to public, so you can visit it through this link (or the one I linked above in the OC Profile section).

All characters/items/stories information related to KHRe is planned to be compiled here bit by bit, including certain canon characters (due to the inevitable canon divergence).

I learned a lot from making this wiki.

KHRe Webcomic

A webcomic that features KHRe's story. KHRe is sort of a similar universe to canon, but not exactly the same. There will be additional characters, which are our OCs, then there will also be modifications/additions to the story/lore as well (e.g. certain arcs/chapters will be rearranged, certain events will happen earlier).

Tsuna retains his protagonist role in KHRe as well (I'm so fond of him, my 2nd fave...), but he will also be joined in this role by the twin bosses from Oniyanagi, Kana and Kurumi.

Oniyanagi's full 10th Generation line-up can be found here.

Just like canon, it starts with Daily Life Arc. I will draw chapters for as far as I can get into the story. One of my main goals in making this webcomic (besides being able to draw both KHR and OC art at the same time) is to improve my art.

Into the Looking Glass

This is a Horror RPGMaker game that features a prequel story for KHRe through Kurumi's childhood (around 8-9 years old). Long story short, it does follow the classic formula of a kid exploring a scary place by themselves.

The title is very much still subject to change, but I referenced Alice in Wonderland for it. Because it's Baby Kurumi (Alice) stumbling in an otherworldly place (Wonderland) and the events that take place moving forward changes her life.

This will take a very long time to complete, but I wanna finish it eventually because I'm also a big fan of Horror RPGMaker games and I've always wanted to make one.

KHRe Test Game (no title yet)

Yes...that's right. I'm editing this now after three months and still no title. 👍

This will be a very short RPGMaker Game with Tsuna as MC and it's definitely less ambitious than the previous two listed here. This is just me testing and learning the features of RPGMaker before I go do more work for Into the Looking Glass.

The game is just about Tsuna being invited to the Ninomiya Estate by Kurumi and he has a very "fun" time there 😂👍✨ (just like a normal Daily Life Arc episode~). It won't be horror, but maybe for Tsuna it will be 😀.

Other Projects

As for other projects that are even more less ambitious and more doable in a shorter time, I do have MV Projects for KHRe plus a few shorts (like this one) I plan on drawing them in. I listed my priorities here (along with the major projects I mentioned) and will try to update when I can (at least monthly).

═══════════════ ◈ ═══════════════

That's all for now! THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK! Any questions are always welcome and very very appreciated! 👀✨I really just love talking about this series, OCs and my projects. I will also continue to update this pinned post as I figure out my projects more.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khre #khr oc #oniyanagi #sawada tsunayoshi #ninomiya kurumi #ninomiya kanako #einart #einproject #i typed all of this while trying not to pass out from being eepy #i did pass out in the end but i finished it #hahahaha #had to go do hand-to-hand combat vs my anxious brain just to click post on this one bruh

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sseniita · 9 months ago

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i pledge allegiance to dumb blondes

idk what to name this grrrrrr !!!!!!

As the villain stood tall, surrounded by barbed wire fences with a friendly red dot on his forehead; courtesy of the sniper commanded to shoot if provoked, he saluted the flag and began planning his escape.

His commander had quickly taken a liking to him, after months of perfect drills, attendance, and behaviour everyone’s guard was down and trust was beginning to form. He was first to show up in his ugly green jumpsuit, first to volunteer, and was always first done in every obstacle course. Of course, assuring that there was enough uncooperation at the beginning to track an improvement in attitude and ability as time went on. He whistled at the playboy magazines the other soldiers would show him at lunch time, feigning interest at the same photos of a bare chested men and woman and half clothed celebrities for the third time that week, but most important was what he was doing now, showing an unwavering and determined loyalty to a battered banner on a flagpole. Every. Damn. Morning.

Once he noticed the target on him had become lazy and the other men patted him on the back as if he hadn’t killed hundreds, he knew it was time before someone got a little too friendly and his act slipped. Last time that happened the villain was sleeping standing up and reciting the national anthem for hours on end.

He was so close to finally ending the Hero Corp when he was ultimately caught. Being too great of an asset, the judge decided military training would be preferred compared to the alternative of a lethal injection. The judge’s speech was heartwarming and almost convincing. She used buzzwords like ‘rehabilitation’ and ‘wasted potential’ that made the Mayor cream their pants at the opportunity to have a new and shiny hero in their hands. Hell, the whole courtroom gave her a standing ovation and she was promoted to the Supreme court. The villain scoffed, remembering the ridiculous hope she had given the city. As if he muttered when his final verdict was announced. But the villain played along, snooped to find weaknesses and had made connections, it was a matter of time before he was out of here and finally took down the Hero Corps- and this time he would succeed.

The villain was on their way to their commander’s office, rumours had been going around that the villain was about to get a new parole officer. A minor setback, with the reputation they had gotten at the military camp, it would be too easy to get the new officer off their back and wrapped around their finger. They reached the door with the kindest of smiles and most innocent of eyes, just for it to be immediately wiped off as they met their new parole officer.

Even with their back turned to him, the villain would be a fool if he didn’t recognize the hero by their curly blonde hair and light blue and meticulously scalloped cape, flowing in what seemed to be a calm wind that only preferred to lay at the ankles of the hero. The commander was gushing over them, hunched over subconsciously and smiling from ear to ear in the grace and radiance that was the Hero.

Now, the villain had heard of the hero. Mostly things he’d scroll past on social media and an occasional staged fight televised on screen. Last they had heard they were dating a movie star and released a line of kid’s lunch boxes. They had a streak of being a rather scandalous hero, but had recently been rebranded to be more kid friendly and profitable. Demonstrated by shorter boots and their suit that came up to a mock neck (a universally hated decision considering their suit didn’t leave much to the imagination previously). All this to say the villain considers the hero more of a brand rather than a human and much less a hero.

He had to admit though, he assumed the hero’s good looks were chalked up to professional makeup and maybe even plastic surgery, looking at them now in a brightly lit room he no longer considered this to be true.

“Villain! Please, allow me the honour of presenting to you our Hero!” The villain now noticed the signed picture of the hero the commander had in his hands, he quickly threw it in a drawer. The villain pretended he didn’t notice and began a staring contest with the hero.

“No need for introduction, I met you in a porno magazine the soldiers keep under their pillows.”

The hero laughed, and the villain hated how it sounded like a breath of fresh air in this grey and dusty corner of the world. “I don’t regret that shoot, y’know. My manager told me it was a bad idea but I’ve never had so much fun during promos! Gosh, I’m so embarrassed! I’ve lost my figure, haven’t I?” The hero turned to the commander who only blushed and complimented the hero insistently. The villain couldn’t help but trail their eyes down the hero's incredibly tight suit, growing increasingly annoyed at Hero’s obvious fish for compliments with every attractive dip and curve his eyes brushed over. He paid extra attention to the way their fingers fidgeted and how they shifted their weight from leg to muscular leg.

Why was everyone complaining about this suit? It shows the same if not more.

“Nevermind that, Hero. You look like a million bucks- and Villain please, behave.” The commander said with a rub on the hero’s back, one that lingered a little too long. After a scoff from both hero and villain the commander let go of the hero and went back to resembling his stoic self.

“We have business to attend to! Villain, the hero will be taking over your progress! As your final goal is to become a hero yourself, Hero will be supervising your progress and reporting to Hero Corp.”

“I figured, Commander. I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

Before the Commander could speak, the hero interrupted. “If I may, Commander?” He nodded, giving Hero the floor.

“I was sent by SuperHero. You are like our first trial for villain rehab. I hear it’s going well and SuperHero wanted to confirm. And besides, Villain, with all due respect, I don’t trust you.” It almost sounded like a compliment coming out of the Hero’s mouth. “No one’s ever gotten so close to what you were able to do. And frankly, I don’t believe you to be rehabilitated in as little as a few months.” The hero’s ease in speaking was very casual, constantly as if they were speaking to friends at no stakes.

Given that Hero was popular and the Hero Corp’s shining star, their powers were somewhat shrouded in mystery, more often than not the Hero was used for promotion and recruitment. That mystery wasn’t something the villain was willing to solve carelessly. Besides, something told the villain this wasn't over. The hero didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed and was probably following orders- From what he knew from tabloids and drama news; no way they’d rather be here than at some cushy penthouse party, this could maybe be over soon. Just maybe. The villain forced a smile, a kind and innocent smile- one’s he’s practised and perfected over the months.

“Touche, I guess I’ll just prove myself to you, Hero.”

“So we’re on the same page!” The hero clapped their hands, an unusual display of excitement in such a case. “Great!”

With a quick goodbye to the commander the hero grabbed the villain’s shoulder and led him out. It was getting dark and the base was quieting down. The grip on the villain’s shoulder felt ice cold yet red hot, a sick feeling overcame him which only worsened when the hero leaned in and whispered to him.

“You’re kinda dumb.” Things immediately clicked.

“Care to elaborate?”

“You didn’t notice a thing! Too distracted staring- jesus. Get yourself together, pervert.” They almost sounded disappointed. The villain smiled.

“What can I say? You play the sexy, dumb blonde very well.”

“Tell me about it.” The grip lightened. “After seven years, I'd better have gotten good.”

The continued walking, the villain puzzling everything together as fast as he could. His ego was based on how many steps ahead he was of everyone, and in this case he was a step or two faster. He analysed the hero’s body language intently before, he smirked when he finally figured out why they cracked their fingers and put a leg in front of the other when they mentioned SuperHero previously.

“SuperHero doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Not yet.” They stopped for a tick. “How’d you know?’

“Being a pervert has its perks. And you have an obvious tell.” The hero stared for a second before laughing. They reached a secluded area, and night had already fallen. The hero had snatched a bland dinner roll from the cafeteria on the way and was stuffing their face while explaining.

“So, basically. I’m sick of this. Being seen as weaker or useless just because I’m hotter.” They scoffed. “Teach me how to fight- properly, and I can get you out of here.” They said between bites. The villain only watched, hands inside their jumpsuit staring, unimpressed at the World’s Hottest Hero™ and their manners.

“You want me to teach you how to fight- so you can prove yourself as a hero?” summarised the villain.

“Deal or no deal?”

“And in return you’ll get me out of here.”

“As soon as I can throw a punch, you’re outta here.” The hero finished their dinner roll.

“They never trained you?”

“Ever heard of a personality hire?”

The villain hummed in understanding. “So why the sudden need for vengeance? You do understand I’m going to kill SuperHero once I’m out of here, right? Or did that movie star dump you or something?”

“First of all, that man has it coming. If I could, I’d kill him myself. Besides, while you do that- I’ll be sipping margaritas in a hammock. Somewhere sunny. Once I’m back I can use his death as a reason why I suddenly got so strong and brooding! I’ll be an inspiration instead of a let down. Second, that’s none of your business.”

The hero reached inside their utility belt and pulled out another dinner roll.

“You shouldn’t eat many of those. They’re a bitch to burn off.”

“Good. So, deal or can I go home? I got a new pair of boots I’ve been wanting to buy before they sell out.” The hero continued eating the roll, they held out their free hand in an expectant way in front of the villain.

The villain couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. With the hero, they could set their targets strictly on the Super Hero when they get out- not only that but with the hero's shining report on the villain’s progress they'll be esteemed and trusted. After a while of gaining SuperHero’s trust as the first successfully rehabilitated hero, killing him will be a piece of cake. Without the SuperHero at the Hero Corps’s head, the rest of the godforsaken corporation would take less that huff and puff to crumble. As for the hero, the villain had complete control over their training, taking them out will barely call for effort.The pieces fell into place, the villain wasn’t religious, but this truly was a miracle. He smiled and warmly shook the hero’s hand.

“Deal.”

‘Perfect! Oh, I can’t wait to get out of these tight spandex suits! I get a wedgie every time I walk.”

“You’ll look marvellous in our famous dirt stained green.”

“Oh, you know I will.” The hero winked. The worst part was, the villain did know.

“Ok. I’ll follow.” The hero said.

“Follow?”

“Lead the way! We’re new bunk buddies!”

Hero seemed to have a way to wipe the villain’s smile off his face.

#writing #hero x villain #villain x hero #original fiction #hero and villain #girl i dont even know what to tag this #big LOVE YOU to my blondes out there #VxH if you squint

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omorimodreverie · 11 months ago

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Reverie Dev Log - November and December

Side Note: This one is quite long, if you only want an important part, there is a TL;DR summary at the bottom.

New Year Note

Happy New Year! We have now reached 2024! Reverie has begun as a little project since April 2021, before it even has its name. The more modern variant began after the demo release in August 2021, with CH1 releasing in May 2022, so it’s been a long way.

Though to admit, considering CH2.5 update came in December 2022, this means CH3 has a gap of a year now (though there are some updates and patches on 2.5 for a few months. This makes it seem like progress has been in stagnation, especially with delayed dev log recently.

This one will be shorter in technical and progress details, and more about the general gist of development plans in general, the surrounding environmental change in modding and OMORI as a whole (as that bears a great effect currently), and finally explains the slow down a bit (though a TL;DR: basically the past few months is holidays).

Also, Development post will now rather be every 2 months as well.

(And also the time is better spent on actually development than just writing, lol)

Overview

November and December for its period of time wasn’t as much done compared to previous months, though it wasn’t as bad as the worst case scenario when factoring in multiple holidays coming in that could have easily killed the motivation entirely. So all things considered, it’s relatively steady going despite the circumstances

For a quick rundown:

More NPCs implemented in maps

Writing is a bit more organized and more steady in terms of work now (And also an additional writer member!)

Portraits started to be done for most main characters

Connected up some progression from separate disjointed cutscenes

Some new plans that reduces workload*

Some enemy sprites are done as well on the side**

A few changes and re-polish on some music tracks

*for example, sunset are done on same map with filter than whole new set of maps

**Which are low priority, more of optional content in CH3 context

Updates, Changes and Needs

There are multiple factors that affect development, here it will be listed from short term factor to long term factor and potential future.

Holiday and Breaks

Let’s start with easy stuff, the short term factor. The past few months contain multiple holidays and also school breaks for some people. There isn’t much to say here, people on holidays get busy therefore less people are doing mod work, especially Christmas and New Year holiday.

(I mean, reverie is a fan mod project, not a job, lol)

Though there is still at least some minimum baseline of trying to keep interest up with some check in, so the interest doesn’t die off entirely, as mentioned in previous Dev Log before large holidays tend to be in big risk for that.

CH3 and Real World Content

One major thing to think about is the length of the real world section and the amount of content it has. The real world content has a large upfront cost due to making an entire new asset for the majority of aspects, so any new things added more will take far longer time than usual other chapters in the dream world.

There are two major aspects to consider, the mandatory story aspect, and the optional side content aspect.

Mandatory / Story Content

As of current the main story aspect of CH3 is quite short, unlike Dreamworld areas, the Real world main content mostly revolves around cutscenes and dialogues, if you speed through the dialogue and cutscenes, it could very well take only half an hour or less to go through (though that’s unlikely the way it’s played on first playthrough at least, ignoring reading time).

One conflict is that, Reverie as a mod is far more focused on Dreamworld sections and battle heavy, making real world sections a bit awkward to make, taking quite a large amount of development time compared to other dream world chapters. The question then is how much real world content should be made, factoring in development time?

Side / Optional Content

As for side content, like in base game it’s mostly NPCs giving fetch quests (which are simpler to make), or potentially jobs (which is a bit more complex).

One unique aspect of Reverie over the base game though, is some amount of gameplay battles to at least give something to do (think of Jackson poster in Hobbeez in base game, but more fleshed out).

The important question is, how much side content should there be in the real world section of reverie? While it is cool to have some side content in real world and is a common complaint on base game itself that the real world feels lackluster, making more things in real world also takes up a large amount of development time which is not ideal. It’s a balancing act between not too lackluster but also not too much content which would take too much time.

RPGMV Needs and Modding Community

And finally, the general community aspect. The OMORI fandom has aged quite a while now, and as time passes the amount of people interested is reduced as well. This project is ultimately a fan project so the amount of interest on the mod isn’t really a problem, but what does this mean is there are less people interested in OMORI and also modding in general,.

A fair amount of people who tend to do RPGMaker MV (RPGMV) works tend to now be out no longer modding, or new members who do would tend to be making own project anyways. This means there has been less people who are available with RPGMV side, which means aspects like cutscenes should be cut down smaller to avoid development hell.

What this means for development is the gears shift from previous usual development focused on efficiency (getting task as parallel as possible), to a slower but sustainable development, focusing more on sustaining interest, which is better than losing interest totally.

TL;DR

Basically, the key important points are:

Short term aspect of Holidays and New Year makes November and December slow period in general.

Real World content (and CH3 by extension) is more time consuming and harder to make than other chapters

Therefore, amount of Real World content needs to be discussed, both mandatory and optional content

There has been less people in Omori community in general meaning there is less people to go by, especially RPGMV sector

Therefore, development has switched to a more slow burn state, taking things slow but sustaining interest to avoid burn out or lost motivation

And for development posts, now will be posting every 2 months than every months instead to reduce writing.

And about Applications...

Applications are always open! RPGMV / Programmers are always appreciated!

Final Stuff

Well now that you read this far, here's some portrait of Daphne and Bowen! (and also probably the only few sprite that is showable related to CH3 now)

There isn't much detail, but when resized down it is enough as a sprite

#omori #omori mod #mod #omorimodreverie #reverie #omori reverie #devlog

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tropes-and-tales · 7 months ago

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Shadow and Light: Chapter Two

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC: 3853

Other Pieces: This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW: Slow-burn; plot-building; canon violence; minor injuries.

It was Mando’s own fault that he got hurt within seconds of landing the Crest on Arvala-7.

You had woken up in the co-pilot’s seat, nestled under your own cloak and a little sore from sleeping in an awkward angle. Mando was in his pilot’s seat, and he gave a quarter turn and the barest of nods as you woke up by degrees. You swiped a surreptitious hand over your mouth in case you’d been drooling. Hoped you hadn’t been snoring too loudly or worse, talking in your sleep.

“Where are we?” you asked, and your voice was rough with sleep.

“Nearly there.”

You watched him a moment as he adjusted course. “I’m going to go clean up a little,” you finally said, and Mando gave you that same curt nod.

You made your way out of the cockpit (smiling at the squeal of the door on its track) and into the ship. You had scouted it out quickly when you had crept on board back on Navarro, so you knew the basic layout. The tiny berth where he likely slept, if Mandalorians slept at all. The weapons locker, where your weapons were likely stashed.

You went into the refresher and slid the door shut behind you. It was a cramped space, but there was a tiny mirror over the sink, and you winced at your own reflection. There was a deep groove in your cheek from where your face had rested on the co-pilot’s seat as you slept. Your hair was a mess.

You did your business, then washed your hands, then undid your braids. Finger-combed your hair and redid the braids, and hoped that you looked presentable. Like a helpful partner and not a saboteur.

If the Mandalorians had their creed, you had your own too. You weren’t exactly sure what culture you came from, and you’d been raised by non-humans, so you had cobbled together your own sort of dogma. You had a connection to Ashla, which some cultures called the Force, and your foster-mother had encouraged that gift. It informed most of your rules, which weren’t really rules as much as a loose framework that you lived by. Try to do no harm. Try to tilt the balance of the galaxy a bit towards the good.

The only real rule you really followed was to always be mindful of the signs sent to you. It would be easy to pretend you didn’t see – you could just settle down on some backwater planet, get a job as a mechanic, get a little house with a garden. But your foster-mother had been certain that the galaxy had plans for you, and you tried to honor her. Navarro had pulled you in like a magnet, and you soon found out why – that secret, guarded science facility. You could sense the malevolence circling it like a storm. It was not unlike the feeling you got all the time on Lasan as you grew up in the shadow of the dying Empire.

So when it came to Mando and this job? You wouldn’t kill him, and you wouldn’t harm him…but if he tried to stop you from destroying the asset you both came to retrieve, you would have to incapacitate him somehow. One way or another, that asset was not going to fall into the hands of that malignant client.

By the time you got back to the cockpit, the Razor Crest was approaching the dessert planet. You sat down and buckled in, just in case the landing was bumpy.

“How do you know where we’re going?” you asked. “Which part of the planet, I mean?” Despite your ulterior motives, you were curious about the technicalities of bounty hunting.

There was a beat of silence. “I usually land outside of a settlement,” he finally offered. “Close enough to walk, far enough to not draw too much attention. Get intel, then go from there.”

You watched him as he piloted the ship over some mountains until he found a valley. He circled around, his hands moving over the controls in a series of smooth motions. The Crest settled onto the planet with a slight jostle that, if you weren’t mistaken, was due to one of the landing skis engaging a second later than the others.

Mando stood up and hesitated a split second before striding past you, and you followed him down the ladder into the cargo hold. You stood back and watched him unlock his weapons cache. He armed himself and then locked it again.

“Can I get my rifle?” you asked. You still had the vibro-knife he hadn’t found when he searched you the night before, but that was barely a weapon.

Mando only shook his head and informed you that he didn’t trust you yet. Fair enough.

So you watched him stride down the gangway, scan the horizon with his tracking fob…and you watched him get mauled by the leathery grey beast that bore down on him from out of nowhere.

You frantically looked around the Crest and found a loose wrench by the carbonite chamber, and you sprinted out to help. You got there in time to find Mando on his back, his arm trapped in the mouth of the dead beast. Another dead one lay a few feet away. You looked closer…no, not dead. You could see the tranquilizer darts sticking out of their hides, and a distance away, a rider mounted on a third beast, his dart gun still in hand.

You walked over to where the Mandalorian lay on his back, his breath a little ragged through his helmet from his skirmish. You brandished the wrench at him.

“I can’t help with just this,” you told him, and he only answered with a huff.

“C’mon,” you said. You extended a hand that he looked at for a beat, then took it with another huff. You helped haul him up and resisted the urge to knock some of the dust off of his armor. “There’s a local who wants to make our acquaintance, I think.”

*****

Mando wasn’t used to working with a partner, so after he rested and returned to the cockpit to begin the approach to the planet, he was startled to see you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat. You didn’t wake as he carefully stepped past you, and you were curled up like a lothcat under your cloak.

He frowned under his helmet. He hadn’t forgotten you were there, exactly, but he wasn’t as on-guard as he usually was. When he worked with Ran and his crew of mercenaries, he was always on guard. Jumpy, even. Distrustful and nearly paranoid. He should have felt the same about you – you’d stowed yourself away on his ship, for Maker’s sake, and you had nearly held him at rifle-point. But you’d been mild as anything as he disarmed you. Calm, collected – and not like the practiced calm he could exude when needed. It seemed to radiate from some deep place in you.

You were calm when he refused to return your weapons to you. You were calm and bemused as you helped him stand after he was attacked by the squat leathery creatures, the blurrgs.

He relented only a moment later and retrieved your bo-rifle from the weapons locker, and he tried to ignore the smile you were obviously biting back when you took it from him.

The local turned out to be an Ugnaught named Kulil, and you and Mando followed him back to his moisture farm. Kulil gave his insight into the encampment that was causing strife on the once-peaceful planet.

“Many have passed through,” he told the two of you. “They seek the same one as you.”

So you hadn’t been lying about that bit of intel you had offered. The asset was dangerous, guarded by dangerous people. Mando caught you watching him, and you gave him a nod as if to say, told you so.

The Ugnaught agreed to help guide you both to the encampment in exchange for the blurrgs, and then in the next breath, he informed you that said blurrgs would need to be tamed and ridden to the encampment. Maybe you couldn’t see under his helmet, but you still looked at Mando and must have sensed his discomfort, because you burst into a gale of laughter. Then you stood up and followed Kulil to the blurrg enclosure with obvious excitement.

Great.

*****

Your foster-mother always told you to try and do things the easy way, and that lesson had taken a while to sink in. You’d spent most of your adolescence frustrated and angry as you tried to do everything the hardest way possible. But you’d eventually learned.

Mando apparently never got that lesson.

You and Kulil stood side by side against the fence and watched the armored man get tossed, trampled, and otherwise mangled by the ornery blurrg.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet,” Kulil offered helpfully.

“Perhaps he remembered I tried to roast him,” Mando bit back.

“This is a female. The males are eaten during mating.”

You snorted at that as Mando marched over to you.

“We don’t have time for this,” he told Kulil. “Do you have a landspeeder I can hire?”

You didn’t wait to hear the answer. You pulled off your cloak and hung it over the fence, then ducked under the rail to stand beside Mando in the enclosure. “Come on,” you told him. “You’re just approaching her wrong.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his reply, making his voice staticky through the modulator of his helmet. “Oh, so you can rebuild engines and ride blurrgs? Any other skills you failed to mention?”

“I have many talents,” you said in mock seriousness as you both approached the blurrg. She eyed you each suspiciously, but she had an especially wary eye for Mando. “But you need to be gentle. Like this.”

You demonstrated by reaching a careful hand out to the creature, letting her sniff your palm at her own pace. Then you laid your hand on its head, stroking the rough skin between the wide-set eyes. The blurrg gave a growl, but it was a low rumble of contentment. You turned and looked at Mando. His helmet was tilted a bit as he watched you.

“See? Gentle. No need to overpower.”

“Gentle rarely works in bounty hunting.”

You grasped the rope around the blurrg’s thick neck and swung up onto her back in a smooth motion. She snorted and growled…but let you keep your seat. You looked down and couldn’t, obviously, make out Mando’s expression behind his beskar helmet. You imagined him rolling his eyes in irritation – but you were wrong. He was studying you closer while pointedly ignore the growing spark of feeling that made him study you at all.

*****

Once properly mounted, the three of you rode across the harsh landscape towards the encampment. When Kulil showed you the encampment and then left, you followed Mando carefully, laying low on the ridge beside him and watching him as he surveyed the situation. Theoretically, he was supposed to be teaching you the trade, so he cleared his throat and offered some insight into what he was seeing.

“Nikto guards,” he told you. “Not sure how many, but a lot. They are tough fighters.” He turned and looked you over. You were in your dun-colored cloak, and he could see the outline of the rifle on your back. He certainly didn’t trust you fully, but you hadn’t done anything to disabuse him of the little trust he did have for you now. And you had helped him tame the blurrg in record time.

“How good a shot are you at a distance?” he asked. You gazed at him, and while he knew you couldn’t see his eyes, it felt almost like you could see him. You had looked at him like that on the Crest when he first captured you, and you had looked at him like that again when you had tamed the blurrg. It made his stomach dip curiously.

“I’m good,” you finally answered. “I was raised in the mountain ranges of Lasan, and we went on missions to snipe imps all the time.”

“Good.” He scanned the surroundings and then pointed at a nearby ridge. “You’re good at sneaking around. Do you think you can get to that ridge over there and cover me when the firing starts?”

You shifted a little and leaned closer to him as you followed his pointing, and Mando felt that churn to his stomach again when your shoulder brushed against him. “That one? Yes, I can get there. Give me, say, ten minutes?”

“Good,” he repeated. “Don’t fire until I start, and try to take out their snipers first. I can handle the close range Niktos.”

You nodded and crawled away, and he was only able to watch you for a moment before he lost you in the shifting landscape of browns and reds. You were good.

And then an IG-11 unit marched onto the scene, and Mando forgot about you for a moment or two.

*****

The shooting started before you were set up, but when you took a prone position and sighted your rifle, you saw that it was a droid – an IG unit, you guessed – that was drawing most of the fire from the guards. Then Mando arrived on the scene, and you followed his directions. One by one, you picked off the Nikto guards and snipers that popped up on the roof and parapets of the fortress.

It was almost too easy. They were so focused on Mando and the droid, they never even looked up at the ridge where you lay. Which was good, as far as you were concerned: the moment Kulil showed you the encampment, you felt a strange feeling creep over you. It was the same feeling when you channeled Ashla, and it got stronger and stronger as you holstered your rifle and made your way to the door of the compound to join Mando and the IG unit.

That feeling? It had to be a sign. You were on the right path, and you had to destroy the asset before it fell into the hands of that scientist.

But when you got to Mando, he was already talking to the droid. The Mandalorian held up the beeping tracking fob and the IG remarked that there was a life form present.

“Another Nikto?” you asked, and Mando gave you that short, curt shake of his head that he did.

“The bounty,” he replied.

You shook your own head now. “No, I thought…” You trailed off, tried to form your thoughts. “I thought we were tracking an asset. A weapon. A thing.”

Now Mando tilted his head, and you swore you heard amusement through his helmet. “Bounty hunting usually entails the living,” he said. “Whether we bring them in warm or cold depends on the job.”

You felt the blood rising in your cheeks and shook your head again. “No, I know that. I just…this was off the books. The man who hired you…” You gazed at Mando, at the slit in his helmet where you figured his eyes were. “Didn’t he hire you to bring him a weapon? They kept calling it an ‘asset’ in the cantina.”

He didn’t answer. The IG unit did it’s jerky, mechanical march inside the compound, and Mando followed. You followed too, your mind racing. You had expected a piece of some weapon, some component for the Empire to rebuild, some piece of a new weapon to exterminate entire worlds, entire species…

It was a living creature. No, a child. The egg-shaped container opened to reveal a green creature with huge ears and black eyes, and the feeling that had been growing all afternoon hit you so hard that you gasped. Whatever the creature was, it was linked somehow to Ashla, or the Force.

Not a weapon at all. A child.

Everything after that realization happened in slow motion: the droid raising its blaster, Mando replying, you shouting and reaching across Mando’s armored chest to try and knock the blaster out of the IG’s grip. The IG hitting you, not hard enough to kill or seriously injure, but hard enough to make your ears ring. You on the ground, stunned by the blow, hearing the blaster shot. You, looking up in shock when the IG unit fell to the ground beside you, destroyed.

Mando, holding his own blaster as it smoked in the half-light of the room.

And Mando, looking down at you for a moment before extending his hand to help you up. And once you were back on your feet, his hand on your shoulder just a beat longer than necessary as he asked if you were okay.

*****

Mandalorians were notoriously distrustful. Mando definitely did not trust you.

He would begrudgingly admit that you were a good partner during this job. You took out a shocking number of Nikto guards and had half-trotted, half-slid down the loose scree of the hillside afterwards like it was nothing at all. Your confusion over the bounty was charmingly naïve, but he supposed he understood – the job was off the books and no exactly straightforward.

Afterwards, as the two of you walked with the floating crib, you had been ambushed by other bounty hunters. You had proven yourself there too, fighting with your weapon as an electrostaff. You moved gracefully, like a dancer, without a wasted movement.

And that evening, over the campfire, you proved yourself a different way.

Mando had been injured in the ambush, and the gash in his arm wept blood steadily enough to need attention. It was his dominant arm, and he fumbled with his cauterizer. Dropped it. Picked it up. Dropped it again with a muttered curse in Mando’a. You watched him a moment across the dancing flames of the fire, and then offered to help.

“I can do it,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain. It was a deep cut into the muscle, and he could only go a fraction at a time with the cauterizer before he had to stop and catch his breath from the searing hurt.

He could feel those eyes of yours on him, those big doe-eyes that seemed so expressive and seemed to see through his beskar helmet. You didn’t reply though – you just stood up and made your way over to him, and you sat down beside him.

“Let me help,” you said. “I have a gift for healing.”

Mando snorted, but he dropped the cauterizer again with his clumsy hand. “Fine,” he said.

You didn’t pick up the tool. You stood back up and retrieved your bo-rifle, and you stopped a moment to scoop the escaping child back into the crib. Then you settled back to kneel beside Mando.

“This,” you said, holding out your weapon, “is for close-range and long-range attacks. Electrostaff and rifle.”

“So are you going to shoot me or electrocute me?”

You smiled at him, and Mando felt that curious dip in his gut again. “Most people don’t realize that there’s a third setting.” Mando watched as you undid a strap, clicked the pieces of the weapon until it resembled a trident. “This setting isn’t a weapon. It’s a….conduit. For channeling.”

“Channeling what?”

You bit down on your lower lip as you pondered your answer. “It has a lot of names. Life Current. Life Wind. The Force. On Lasan, we called it ‘Ashla.’”

Mando had heard stories about that magical nonsense – fairy stories to tell children, as far as he was concerned. But you seemed so earnest that he gave a single nod, and you continued.

“I can…do things with it,” you said. You were halting, and even in the firelight, he could make out your blushing face. “When I use the trident, I can sometimes…see things. From the past. From possible futures. That’s usually how I use it, so I know what to do, where to go. Which path to follow.” You glanced up at him now. “But I can also heal with it.”

“Okay.” He didn’t believe it for a moment, but you had helped him at both the encampment and in the ambush. He owed you a modicum of belief, he figured, and when it invariably failed, he could use the cauterizer.

You nodded, but then the flush on your face deepened. “I’d have to, uh, touch you. I know Mandalorians don’t like that….”

You were right. But something made him mutter “okay” again, which made you nod again, and then you powered on the trident.

Mando wasn’t a believer of anything but the Way, the Creed, the rigid set of rules that controlled his lonely life. In the following days, he’d question what he saw – and felt – in this moment. But right now, the trident sparked a steady stream of blue electrocurrent between its points, and a lovely blue aura was cast over you and him. It made him feel that same calm you seemed to exude. You closed your eyes, squeezed them tight as you concentrated. One hand held the trident steady, and the other reached out, unseeing, to hover over the deep gash in his arm.

“Is this okay?” you asked, and your voice sounded a quarter-octave lower. More assured, too.

“Yes,” he replied, and you laid your hand on him.

When was the last time he’d been touched? When had he last felt someone else’s skin against his own? Your hand was warm, and he flinched at first…but then pressed his arm against your touch a little firmer. Greedy, almost, for the sudden contact, like a desert soaking up rain for the first time in years.

Under your warm hand, Mando could feel….whatever it was. Working. He could feel the muscle knitting itself together, the slashed veins, and then the skin. It was warm too, and he felt contentment wash over him as you touched him.

All too soon, it was over. You pulled your hand away and turned the trident off. Opened your eyes and sagged backwards a little. Mando flexed his hand and twisted his arm to look at it in the fire light. The skin was unbroken, smooth. There wasn’t even a scar.

The mostly-silent man had a million questions, but when he turned to ask you some of them, he saw that the healing came at a price: you were slumped in your kneeling position, and your trident was slipping from your hand.

Mando reached out and caught it. Then he reached out and caught you.

You weren’t unconscious though. You braced yourself as he eased you onto the ground, and you sighed your thanks as he removed his cloak to fold it and place it under your head. He arranged your own cloak around you and watched as your eyelids grew too heavy for you to fight any longer.

Then he watched you sleep for a long, long while, and he only noticed the child watching too when it made a cooing noise at you. Mando could have sworn it sounded sympathetic.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #tropes and tales

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