#hes no longer worried about any war or anyone coming to hurt him. hes free hes happg. his smile is the biggest its ever been | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaoticace2005 · 9 months ago

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Update: I made this a fic cause I'm sleep deprived and autistic

24 Hour Pest Control:

“My dear fellow, what are you still doing here?”

The fuck?

Here Angel was, minding his own damn business (for once, as Husk would say) and trying to recuperate from the eighteen hours of hell his bitchass boss just put him through. And now Smiles McCreepy Face is coming over wondering why he’s relaxing on the couch.

It’s HIS couch! He claimed the couch! He’s been lounging on couches since he arrived at the hotel! And he’s pretty sure when they were building the new one, he said “FUCK! That bitch is mine!” at the sight of the new couch.

It’s a nice couch.

Plus the idea of having to climb up stairs to his room is exhausting. He’s had enough unwanted exercise today, thank you very much.

“Huh?”

Because maybe Smiles will make actually fucking sense for once.

Smiles smiles smilingly and just says, with no added clarity whatsoever: “I said, what are you still doing here? I was under the impression you were moving past self destructive behaviors.”

Holy shit. Is this prick actually annoyed with him for asking for clarity? Also who’s Al to talk to Angel about self destructive behaviors? The dude has picked a fight with Adam and Lucifer (and pretty much any other being he’s come across.)

“I live here?”

Duh?

Previously he may have added a “regretfully” or “cause it’s free” to his sentence, but he’s past that. He likes it here. He likes being away from Valentino. He likes the girls. He likes Husk. He likes the feeling of thinking he can be better. He likes the bar.

“Well, I just figured it wouldn’t be for much longer if you say.”

…what?

“Are ya threatening me smiles?”

Honestly he thought they were past this. Six months of bonding and a literal war brings people close together… although it’s not like Alastor was always here. Dude came and went like a wack-a-mole. It’s the only kind of coming he did. Fuck, the man disappeared during the fight against heaven (although with good reason he assumes, given the amount of energy Alastor used.) The radio demon has a tendency of coming and going whenever he feels like it, and Angel is sure that the man doesn’t think anyone important enough to know why that is or where he goes.

Still? Threatening?!

Ohhh what if he’s on same pain/power trip like a certain moth overlord? What if he want to hurt the souls he owns and thinking hurting Angel would hurt Husk?

Would it? Does Husk really came so much about him that Alastor thinks that would work?

…would it work?

Wait. No. Stop it Anthony. Stop being gay.

(He can’t, it’s a full time job.)

There’s stereo-like laughter crackling that shales Angel out of his efforts to de-gay himself (which is something he hadn’t tried to do since the 1930s.)

“No! No! Trust me, if I was threatening you, you’d know.”

Yep, Creepy McCreep Face still gives Angel the creeps.

“What then?”

Why is the overlord so obsessed with Angel leaving? For his safety? Bullshit! If Angel was going to die, Alastor would be standing in the corner ready to watch and give some belittling commentary.

“Well, I thought someone would have told you, Niffty is on a cleaning spree!”

…so? Niffty is always on a cleaning spree. Girl has like 3 moods: cute, murder, and clean.

And that’s exactly what Angel says.

More canned laughter. God, that’s annoying.

“Yes, well, she seems especially eager to kill bugs today.”

…okay? Again. Niffty. Murder. Makes sense.

“I figured you’d want to get out of the firing range.”

“Why? Tiny’s just killing bugs.” Thankfully. He’s had his worries before but, for as unhinged as Niffty can be, the only things she seems to hurt are herself (out of enjoyment), bugs, angels, and dickheads (of the moth and Adam variety.)

“Exactly! I figured you’d want to be sure you’re not a potential target, as fun as that would be to watch!”

The fuck-

“I’m not a bug!”

There’s that weird hum, then: “Oh yeah, I guess spiders are arachnids. Most people don’t seem to know the difference though.”

Oh.

Oh, right. He’s a spider demon.

You think he’d remember that. With the arms and the extra eyes and his weird feet and the venom he occasionally spits out, but honestly he forgot. Most of his “spider” features are under wraps. His third set of arms are usually tucked in because he barely manages to get through the day without hitting someone or something with the two pairs he has. Hell, even when he was alive, he took the “Italian” part of his identity to the extreme where hand gestures were everyone. One time he even slit a guy’s throat because he started arguing with his brother in a raid.

Plus the feet he covers with boots, the extra eyes look like freckles (and don’t get real good vision anyways), and he hasn’t used venom on anyone in years. The last time he did was on Cherri because they were fresh out of drugs and she wanted to see if she could get high off of him (she could, it was a mess, and at the time he was jealous that he couldn’t use it on himself.)

“So? She wouldn’t kill me!”

“She wouldn’t?”

…no?

“You’re telling me the famed angel killer wouldn’t want to kill an-“

Don’t say it.

“-Angel?”

Goddamnit.

“Uhhhhh…” wow, really concise.

Niffty… wouldn’t kill him? Right? Sure, she’s murdered tons of bugs before. And yeah, she did kill a bunch of angels with glee. And she’s friends with Alastor.

…and there was that time she tried to stab him after Charlie gave her a knife and told her to “stab angels.”

But…she wouldn’t?

…then again, Husk never did tell Angel what he’d deal was.

“Aw Niffty! My dear, so good to see you! What are you up to now?”

Goddamnit.

Angel shifts his vision from Alastor to the floor, where Niffty is now standing covered in blood with a giant meat cleaver.

“I was just killing all the bugs.”

She says, as she looks directly at him with that one terrifying, manic, eye.

…oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

OH FUCK.

He doesn’t think. He climbs up the wall onto the ceiling, scurrying around like a literally spider which he’s sure doesn’t help his “Niffty don’t kill me” case.

With all the scurrying he doesn't notice Alastor giving Niffty a pat on the head and gifting her with another knife. But honestly that's probably for the best.

He ends up at the door to Husk’s room, which the man is actually in for once rather than downstairs in the lounge or bar. Still on the ceiling, he knocks on the top of the door frantically.

“Fuck! Fuck! I’m coming!”

Angel’s still knocking. This is a matter of life and second death.

Husk opens the door a bit from below him, and must notice nobody standing there because there’s a “what the fuck,” as the door begins to close.

Still on the ceiling, Angel pushes the door open and hurries through, leaving Husk stumbling for a second as the door shuts again with Angel finally in a safe zone.

“What the fuck?”

“I DONT WANT TO BECOME A TIARA!” He finally screams, which gets Husk to snap his head up and look at the shaking spider on the ceiling.

“The fuck you doing?”

Fuck, he needs to make this clearer.

“I DONT WANT TO END UP ON AL’S HEAD!” (Wow, first time he's ever said that.)

There’s a pause, and then:

“Niffty?”

He nods his head.

“Bugs?”

Another nod. A pause, then:

“Fine. But if she comes knocking I’m not putting up a fight or lying. She knows things.”

Angel would be hurt but that’s fair. He doesn’t know if he’d be willing to upset the tiny cyclops either.

More silence. Angel is still on the ceiling.

“…want me to show you some magic tricks?”

Well, sure, why not? Might as well do something fun before he dies?

Wait… is watching an old guy do and talk about his special interest fun for him?

…yes, yes it is.

Fuck, he’s whipped.

Niffty kills bugs AND she kills angels.

…I get why Angel Dust (yeah, I know spiders are arachnids but also doubt Niffty cares) was so concerned for his safety. After episode 8 he probably is on guard any time Niffty is in a room with any available weaponry.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #niffty #angel dust #niffty hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #huskerdust #hazbin hotel memes

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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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Ohh i saw your reblog on Jurian, Miryam and Drakon thing. Yessss, I love him. Like he is a general, he had lives long enough and actually see the rest of the HL grow old and almost half of them were barely in their 20s, 30s when Jurian were in the war and the whole Cythia thing. I mean, the respect he had gained during that time? And his name must-have pass among human as a legend? Come on, give this human a lott of credit and respect. He deserves it and to have his lover TURNED her back from him. Lord, this man got patience. As he lives with lucien as the band of exile right, I wonder if Lucien went dumbstruck one day and be: "Couldron, this must be one reason why this old man is kept alive 500 years" and secretly respect him. I cant with Jurian, it is so sad and tragic. He is the man that has live too long to be consider as human and nothing about him fit as a fae.

He lost his lover, the people he had love were no longer exist, trapped as a ring, raised from the dead and brought again to life. I mean, if i am him, I will carry a small calendar with me to remember this is no longer 500 years back when humans were slaved then slapped anyone dared to say no to me.

I think what annoys me about the Jurian narrative is the framing. All humans are slaves or slave adjacent when Jurian is born. He stages a successful uprising and is actively fighting back and keeping the worst of Hyberns commanders at bay with no magic.

Myriam comes to him when he's out in the Dead Lands or whenever. It's not like Drakon did her any favors by freeing her. He's just like, good luck. Whats stopping anyone else from harming her? Enslaving her? It's not as if she has any true rights.

She joins the army as a healer. Other Prythian territories, like Beron Vanserra (known terrible person) + Rhysands father (also known bag of dick's) are in this war. Spring is aiding Hybern, you have to assume the weren't the only ones. Day Court was also on the side of humans but the rest? Unclear.

And what irks me is that the slavery + war is written to show Rhys is a good person without confronting how utterly horrific the whole thing is to start with. Look at this good dude fighting for liberty. But SJM has effectively centered the oppressor in her own fight and demonized Jurian for what?

Killing slave owner Clythia? I wish he would have killed more. Myriam encourages him to do it, which I imagine felt akin to selling your soul and while he's trying to fight a war, Drakon has arrived. Not because it's the right thing to do but because he can't stop thinking about Myriam. She's his mate and now this has another fucking layer of terrible to it.

Myriam is very clear she ends things with Jurian before running off with Drakon and Jurian is suddenly the Tamlin in the Feysand retelling, only if Tamlin had been fighting to keep monsters from enslaving everyone and now Feysand is mad about his methods.

The last time anyone sees Jurian, he's taking on Amarantha on his own. Drakon and Myriam LEAVE. Close their borders and just go. And when Jurian returns, everyone is so worried he's gonna be mean to her like idk I think Myriam deserved to hear some criticism for her choices, if nothing else. They got painted as friends and for what? Having to be begged to do the bare minimum AGAIN? Lucien Vanserra had to drag them kicking and screaming out of their fucking hole and they get to lecture people on morality?

Part of it is just SJM does not think about the indications of this sort of shit which is why I LAUGH when people are like, there are breadcrumbs HIDDEN like baby this isn't a TSwift album. She doesn't even flesh out her magic system and routinely paints her rebels as the villains if they hurt their oppressors feelings (crescent city).

Look. If it were me and the dude who'd been a magic ring for 500 years were brought back by the same people who trapped him in the ring, I'd be fucking suspicious that maybe he was mad. MAYBE he was up to something. Maybe they were not pals.

And literally everyone in ACOWAR was like "Jurian is helping Hybern, makes total sense"

In what fucking world?

#justice for jurian #literally myriam is a traitor #nesta and Elain did more for humanity than she did #literally married the worst man possible #and said FUCK HUMANS #And dipped #Jurian should have been allowed to call her a bitch

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years ago

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You know what would be interesting?

JC never lost his golden Core.

And Wei Wuxian did not lose his.

But he still gets dropped into the Burial Mounds. And like I dunno how, but he comes out of there having mastered the new form of cultivation.

Jiang Cheng acts like a dick that's par for cannon. And this Wei Wuxian who has survived the burial Mounds with his golden core intact has no time for his drama.

He definitely confesses to Lan Wangji o ce he is out of the burial mounds.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in the Sunshot campain would be brilliant. Cultivating and * *wink wink nudge nudge* * dual cultivating.

JC is seething with jelousy. He has everything. The gentry name, the money and sect leadership but the whole world is only speaking about Wei Wuxian and his like awesome cultivation. Both the sword style and with his flute.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning- Wen Ning convinces his sister to join the war. Wen Ning wants to be on Wei Wuxian's side.

What would JC throw a tantrum over if he doesn't have anything to throw a tantrum over??

Like for example he blames Wei Wuxian for Lotus Pier burning. Obviously it's not his mistake. But one day he is yelling at Wei Wuxian about it and sect leader someone maybe XiChen, maybe Sect leader Nie. Whoever. Comes and like defends Wei Wuxian.

What would he do then faced with the facts? Cling all the more to his warped world view? Or apologize?

It will be interesting to see.

You don't have to take this prompt if it's too messy or whatever. I love you and your writing.

Also, thank you for choosing to write my previous prompt.

XOXO.

(this is a little similar to trapped and patient but also quite different. Hope you like it! The format is a bit different because this is a lot of time to cover in a short prompt)

When he stumbles out of the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian is stunned. He can't believe he made it, that he was able to survive it, without his sword.

Wei Wuxian walks forward shakily, one unsteady step at a time, putting distance between him and that wretched place.

He feels weak, drained, devastated in small ways.

But he is free.

---

Yiling offers shelter in unexpected ways. He's able to hide in a temple to recover. His condition is wretched enough that he's mistaken for a beggar. A few people take pity on him and offer fruits and buns.

It takes him a week.

That's all it takes for him to recover.

Wei Wuxian washes all traces of Burial Mounds off him, soaks in icy river water for hours on end until he feels purified and reforged.

Now, he's ready for revenge.

---

Wei Wuxian has only tried his cultivation method on the dead. He has used it to repel the fierce corpses, fierce ghosts, and spirits soaked in resentment.

When he tests the method on the Wens, it proves to be even more effective. They scramble like mindless beasts, driven by fear and confusion. The sounds of his Dizi pierce the air and induce madness.

He watches from a distance, indifferent as the Wens turn on each other, swinging their swords, shouting at phantoms, all sense and intellect gone.

He turns away.

---

Jiang Cheng's arms wrap around him and the fog around his mind starts to slowly recede. He stands stiffly, blinking a little before looking beyond his martial brother.

Lan Zhan is there, staring at him with wide eyes. There's so much open concern on his usually stoic face that Wei Wuxian wants to turn away.

"Wei Ying,"

It is only then, under the power of that golden gaze, that his fugue state dissipates. He sees Lan Zhan step forward, almost reaching out only to pull back at the last moment.

Jiang Cheng pushes him away and punches his shoulder, "Where have you been? How dare you abandon us and just frolic off somewhere?"

Wei Wuxian swalllows with difficulty and answers their questions with his habitual dismissive charm.

But that honest expression of open concern on Lan Zhan's beautiful face doesn't leave.

He meets those golden eyes and feels something shift within him.

Shaking his head, he dismisses the feeling. There's no time for sentimental reunions. He turns his attention towards Wen Chao, unsheathes his sword, and kills him in one clean strike.

There. Done.

---

The war is already in full swing by the time he joins it. His martial brother and Lan Zhan are quick to take him to Qinghe, not even letting him ride his own sword.

"Wei-gongzi, I'm happy to see you safe," Lan Xichen greets, running a discreet eye over him. The older Lan brother's concern is well hidden but Wei Wuxian senses it nevertheless.

The man looks like he's just about ready to banish him to the healing halls.

He opens his mouth to reassure Lan Xichen but Nie Mingjue intervenes, slapping his back solidly, "I hear you're responsible for the devastation at Yiling. Good work!"

Wei Wuxian smiles brightly, hoping to banish that increasingly familiar look from Lan Zhan's face. "Thank you, Nie-zongzhu." He smiles up at the man, "I can give you a full report of what happened if you wish it."

The Chifeng-zun's expression shifts into one of approval and he nods, "I do wish it."

"I would like to know as well, if you don't mind," Lan Xichen says and Nie Mingjue nods before he glances at Lan Zhan.

He chuckles, "Lan er-gonzi can join us as well."

---

Wei Wuxian doesn't realize he's been spending more time with the Lan brothers and Nie Mingjue until Jiang Cheng angrily points it out.

"You're too good for us, are you?" He demands, "Abandoning us in favor of your new friends! Even in the battlefield, you and Lan Wangji are inseparable! Have some shame! How dare you abandon your responsibilities and mess around with that man?"

"a-Cheng," Shijie reprimands gently but her voice is weak.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng, who keeps track of such things amidst a war? They're all our allies. It's not like I have abandoned everyone." He still trains with the Jiang disciples and leads them in battle after all.

"Wei Wuxian!"

"Jiang Cheng," His voice makes his irritation clear, "Is this really the right time to worry about such trivial matters? Who cares about appearances during war? Are were not all one when on the battlefield?" He asks, narrowing his eyes on the furious Jiang, "We don't know whether we'll live or die when we ride out and you're concerned about who fights alongside me? Just who are you speaking of?"

"Who I am speaking of?" Jiang Cheng snaps in return, "Your obsession with that man is unseemly and reflects poorly on the sect! You know it and yet you carry on shamelessly-"

"My obsession?" He demands, "Just what are you trying to imply, Jiang Cheng? You're going to be a brat just because Lan Zhan happens to be the only one able to keep up with me?" It is no secret that his three month stint sharpened his cultivation in ways people find hard to fathom. He didn’t just develop a new cultivation method, he grew. Surviving the Burial Mounds is a feet beyond the skill and endurance of most cultivators.

Wei Wuxian has earned his already formidable reputation.

Jiang Cheng reels back at the reminder, his face twisting with rage.

Never let it be said that Wei Wuxian takes things lying down. He has spent a lifetime appeasing Jiang Cheng and dealing with his insecurities.

He no longer has the patience.

---

He reaches out instinctively, pulling Lan Zhan out of a blade's path, spinning around to block the strike with his bare arm.

His thick leather brace manages to minimize the damage and he doesn't lose his arm but it is a near thing.

With a hiss, he crowds against Lan Zhan and brings Suibian down in a sharp slash, cutting the Wen before him from left shoulder to right hip.

"Reckless." Lan Zhan says later as he carefully stitches the cut.

"I couldn't let you get hurt." Wei Wuxian says softly, peering down at the kneeling figure before him. He has seen Lan Zhan in various states of indignity, covered in blood, robes soaked in the disgusting sludge of a war-torn field.

Nothing diminishes his beauty.

Wei Wuxian's heart races, his head spinning as he smells the scent of sandalwood. He swallows as Lan Zhan shifts closer, carefully snipping the excess thread and studying his neat stitches.

This close, he feels overwhelmed and realization dawns.

"I love you," He breathes, stunned.

He loves Lan Zhan. The knowledge strikes him now, suddenly, without warning. "How did I not know?" Wei Wuxian feels strangely dazed. How could he not know? It is so obvious to him, his constant need for Lan Zhan's attention, "I hate it when you ignore me." The feeling of those snapping golden eyes on him when he finally manages to gain Lan Zhan's attention, "It's thrilling when you don't."

He has never met anyone more beautiful, "I find you better looking than any maiden." Lan Zhan's proximity now makes him feel-, "Breathless," He says, "When I'm close to you I feel- how did I miss-"

Lan Zhan grip is like vice around his wrist.

Wei Wuxian stops, going pale as he realizes how brazenly he had just confessed love to a man. If Jiang Cheng were here, he'd definitely gut him with Sandu, "Lan Zhan, I-"

Lan Zhan surges forward, eyes blazing and expression dark.

Warm lips slide over his and his mind goes silent.

He doesn't think a single thought that night.

---

War doesn't wait for anyone and Wei Wuxian doesn't say anything in protest when Lan Zhan pulls away from him. He watches with heavy eyes as Lan Zhan shrugs on his discarded outer robes and glances at him.

"Is your body alright?" He asks and Wei Wuxian feels a blush crawl up his neck.

“No! Of course it isn’t,“ He complains even though his body is buzzing with lingering pleasure. He pouts up at Lan Zhan, who studies him with careful golden eyes, “Really, going on and on, taking your pleasure without any care for my virgin body.“ Lan Zhan’s ears are delightfully red, “Who knew er-gege could be so bold?“

“Wei Ying,“ Lan Zhan’s expression is flat but his voice carries a hint of a waver. Wei Wuxian just grins in response, “Be serious.“

In all honesty, his body is already back to its regular state of being. His Golden Core is still spinning furiously and the lingering energy from Dual Cultivation has healed any aches and pains he might have.

“Fine,“ He says in a petulant tune, inwardly delighted that Lan Zhan is now his, “But er-gege must kiss me to make me feel better.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate, leaning over him and gently tipping his chin up for the demanded kiss.

Wei Wuxian sighs, sinking into it as a curtain of silken black hair forms a private cocoon around him.

---

The war ends but Wei Wuxian’s problems don’t end with it. Three issues stand before him; helping the Wen remnants, helping rebuild YunmengJiang, and figuring out how to marry Lan Zhan.

One obstacle stands in the way of two of these three goals. Jiang Cheng absolutely refuses to lift a finger to help the Wen remnants, even though Wen Qing’s assistance helped them win the war. Jin Guangyao may have killed Wen Ruohan but Wen Qing prevented thousands of casualties.

Wen Ning was also responsible for rescuing Jiang Cheng from the Wen capture before he lost his Golden Core. It was fortunate that Wen Zhuliu had been called to visit Wen Ruohan and Wen Chao had to wait to enact that punishment.

Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian managed to steal Jiang Cheng away just hours before Wen Zhuliu returned.

And yet, Jiang Cheng chooses to side with the Jins on the matter instead of listening to Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue. Wei Wuxian knows it is partly because their sister is marrying into the Jin clan and they can’t afford to make things difficult for her, but still.

Jin Zixuan will obviously protect shijie. There’s no need to be so cautious, especially if three out of four sects oppose imposing any sort of punishment on innocent people.

On a personal front, Jiang Cheng’s disapproval of his relationship with Lan Zhan is blatant.

Jiang Cheng can’t really stop Wei Wuxian from marrying whoever he wishes. He doens’t need the sect leader’s permission as he’s not really the member of the family. But his shidi is making things difficult with his sneering disapproval and contemptuous comments in public.

He has already alienated Lan Xichen completely by calling Lan Zhan’s honor in question (boy did he earn the punch Wei Wuxian had leveled at him - sect leader or no). Nie Mingjue will never side with some upstart over Lan Xichen.

Lan Zhan himself doesn’t care. He has never liked Jiang Cheng and he never will. He only retaliates when Jiang Cheng tries to attack Wei Wuxian.

His protective er-gege as no tolerance for anyone trying to harm him.

Which is what, ultimately, breaks Wei Wuxian’s ties with YunmengJiang.

The confrontation is embarrassingly public. He doesn’t mind Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue being present but feels upset about Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao being there as well.

“Twin Prides of Yungmeng, isn’t that what you promised me?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “Where will your pride be if you break all of your promises and get into...” He waves his hand at Lan Zhan in disgust, “Is this how you intend to repay us? My father raised you to be the Head Disciple of the Jiang Sect and you would rather be some sort of deviant?“

“Jiang Cheng-“

“And you would side with the Wen dogs too! Was this always your intention? Did you always want to bring down my sect and support its enemies?”

“The Wen remnants have helped us. They’re not our enemies.“

“They’re not our enemies now,“ Jin Guanyao interjects calmly, his voice soothing and patient, “But surely you see that it may not remain so? We cannot risk another war.”

“They’re barely a few hundred people and we have already taken most of their resources. They’ll live as poor peasants. How can they be a threat to us?“ Wei Wuxian asks.

“You’re indeed naïve, Wei-gongzi,“ Jin Guangshan says in a gentle, placating tone, “Perhaps your fondness for Wen-guniang is making you turn a blind eye. Beautiful women have a tendency to do that.“ He chuckles indulgently.

The sly implication in his tone isn’t lost on anyone. Lan Zhan’s expression turns frosty and Wei Wuxian feels a surge of fury strong enough to make his blood boil. There are so many things wrong with that statement that Wei Wuxian, for once, is rendered speechless.

“You question the honor of Wei Wuxian of all people?“ Nie Mingjue demands, taking a step forward, “I have stayed silent because Jiang Sect business isn’t my business but I will not have you slander and belittle a proven warrior in my presence!“

“Indeed,“ Lan Xichen says calmly but there’s no mistaking the sharp look in his eyes. Lan Xichen rarely reacts to provocations or interferes in sect matters that don’t concern him. But he’s not going to let anyone upset his younger brother carelessly, “The matter of the Wens is easy to resolve. Let us give them a small piece of land, let them set up a village, and forbid cultivation among them.“

“Er-ge,“ Jin Guangyao begins but Lan Zhan is out of patience.

He steps back and bows to all assembled before placing a hand on Wei Wuxian’s back, “Wei Ying will choose his own path. Wens will remain free. Wei Ying and I will marry.“ He meets Jiang Cheng’s furious gaze, “Jiang-zongzhu must decide whether his brother’s happiness matters to him.“

Wei Wuxian winces.

“My brother’s happiness?“ Jiang Cheng demands, “All everyone has ever cared about is his happiness! What about me? What about our Sect? A sect he nearly destroyed because of his loyalty towards you.“ Jiang Cheng looks at him, “Did you forget my mother? My father? How do you intend to repay the enormous debt you carry, Wei Wuxian?“

Wei Wuxian stares back at him, “What is my repayment, Jiang Cheng?” He asks softly, “What will it take for you to consider that debt repaid?” It has been over five years since the fall of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian has bled and slogged through war to restore that place to its former glory. He has kept Jiang Cheng safe, helped renegotiate shijie’s marriage, and used his name to draw skilled cultivators to YungmengJiang.

What more can he give?

“Loyalty.“ He stills, “You devote your life to YungmengJiang and nothing else.“

Lan Xichen makes a faint, alarmed noise while Nie Mingjue huffs in disapproval.

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, feeling Lan Zhan’s fingers flex on his back. He levels a flat look at Jiang Cheng and thinks on the matter of debts. He thinks about Madam Yu’s refusal to bend, of Jiang-zongzhu’s passivity and lack of planning. He thinks about the Wen’s unprovoked attack on Cloud Recesses and the inevitability of war.

He thinks of his Lan Zhan and shijie’s Jin Zixuan, without swords and facing an armed group of Wens under Wen Chao’s orders.

He thinks of love. Of what it means to be truly, unconditionally loved.

No sorrys and no thank yous. No debt owed for simply being a part of someone’s life.

He thinks of acceptance that comes with an older brother’s amused smile. He thinks of an uncle’s gruff admonishment to behave followed by a stiff reminder to eat, you’re skin and bones already.

He takes a deep breath and decides.

“No.“

#short prompts #Wei Wuxian #Lan Zhan #no golden core transfer #anti jiang cheng

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staygolddindjarin · 3 years ago

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Grief

Chapter One: History

Din Djarin x Reader x a bunch of other star wars characters

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: Oof this ones kinda angsty right off the bat- ⚠️ attempted suicide?? Kinda?? Age gap (reader is underage, but don't worry it's just for the sake of backstory and also there's no spicy, so...) mentions of death and afterlife, fluff if you like squint really hard

A/n: hello there... I'm sorry to inflict tumblr with this atrocity, but wattpad had to deal with it so tumblr can too. I wrote a different version of this on my wp with an OC name, but I know that not everyone cares for that so this won't include that. Also this series will be such a slow burn... prepare yourself ahead of time because it's going to be agonizing

Words: 6.3k+

SERIES MASTERLIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Part 1/?

"Pehea gar mar'eyir ni...."

How did you find me....

He came and sat beside me, the sound of metal scraping agaisnt the ground when he knelt first.

"Gar cuyir te shi solus tion'ad comes olar jii. Ni kar'taylir gar jate'shya gar mirdir Ni vaabir," He responded.

You are the only one who comes here now. I know you better than you think I do.

I heaved a deep breath before letting it out in an exhausted sigh. Speaking in my native tongue was something I always appreciated, but now sitting here it felt nearly uncomfortable, but there was a reason for that.

"I wanted to be alone," The words from my mouth were no longer in my language, and he shifted beside me, trying to convey his confusion without a word.

"Care to elaborate?" He suggested, his asking tone was harsh... but then so was everything else about him.

I didn't really feel like explaning my feelings at the moment. I didn't want to focus on the very thing he was asking about. Even though he wasn't absolutely sure of what he was asking.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," I trailed off.

"Try me." His voice wasn't any softer, but the sincerity he rarely showed had seeped into his tone.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. You really won't understand, and for all I know you could make things worse off for me than they already are," I didn't like it when he let his guard down around me. I didn't like getting closer to him, even though I was supposed to.

"I can't force you. Whatever it is, I wouldn't get myself too worked up," He sounded hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it was by my words. He was too strong to be wounded by such trivial things.

He moved in his seat, beginning to stand, and for some reason the thought of being alone like I had originally intended seemed like a horrible idea.

I reached out to grip his arm. I kept my gaze forward, knowing that even if I looked at him I could not see his eyes.

"Stay."

He didn't hesitate. He sat down again, and I no longer felt guilt for the hurt in his voice a moment prior.

We sat for a moment in silence, just looking over the cliffside, into the deep canyons that wove in between settlements and encampments of our tribes and clans.

"I don't want this life," I whispered. I had only half hoped he would be paying enough attention to hear me. My voice was soft enough that he might not have.

"What do you mean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the choice to even say what I did. I felt a shiver go down my arms, and I felt the wind come into the old open cavern, making the air around me chill. My arms were exposed, for I didn't expect the cold tonight. I didn't expect to be here this long.

"I'll turn sixteen in four days. I will either take the creed, or deny everything I've ever been taught. I'd leave if I do that," I finally gave a glance in his direction. He looked back at me, or at least the beskar did. I could never tell where his eyes were.

"You want to leave?" That pained tone of his voice had returned. The one I felt guilty for without actually believing I had done anything to cause it.

I did. I wanted to get off this planet. Away from the responsibility of becoming what everyone expected of me.

"I have to. It's the only way I will ever be at peace, but I'm not sure if I truly have the strength to stand in front of my family and deny the creed."

I could run away. I had some friends who were planning to jump a transport and join the rebellion against the empire.

They had offered me to be apart of this, but I had refused, believing that I would follow in my ancestors footsteps and take the creed. My father had already provided the beskar for my helmet to be made. It was already in the armourer's possession. All that was left was for me to come of age.

"Where did you go, just now?" He noticed my lack of attentiveness to my current reality, and brought me back to where I was. On the drafty cliffside, with my legs hanging over the end.

"Nowhere. I was just thinking about the future," I had admitted. Though I felt the need to stay emotionally distant from him, and not let myself develop a closeness, I knew I could trust him with my life, which is why I even revealed these things to him in the first place.

"What do you think your future will look like?" The tone that brought me guilt had again left his voice, but was replaced by something else... was it fear? I could not even think of theorizing that he could ever be scared. He was one of the bravest in his clan. Never had he shown an ounce of fear to anyone or anything. How stupid of me to even wonder.

"Merc and his crew are gonna stow away on a crate transport tomorrow. He has contact with the rebellion. He said that I could go with them if I was up for it," I looked down, almost embarrassed at admitting a plan of escape to someone so loyal to this place. Even though he wasn't born on this planet, and even though he wasn't a blood member of any tribe, the foundling was more of a mandalorian than I could ever be.

"You've agreed?"

"No. Not yet," I shook my head. I didn't feel like my reasons were valid. Having him sit beside me, and ask me these things made me realize that I needed to explain myself further.

"Din, I want to be free. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a code that is so restricting to me, binding my every decision. Everything I'd do would have to be following after the creed."

He didn't respond, and even though his features were shrouded under the reflective surface of his beskar, I could tell he was thinking of something.

"I'm not yet sixteen, but when I am... I don't want to be locked down under a piece of metal. I don't want to have to be bound to this planet or a clan. I want to go some place far away and be something that is different than what everyone expects of me. I want to fight battles against the empire, I want to make my own rules. I want to be free to marry who I love, and not be betrothed to whoever my father chooses for me," I finished off my speech about freedom, but realized the last sentence too late. I should have chosen a better set of words.

Din's head hung down, looking at the wrist guards he wore. He shook his head back and forth and before I could interject, he began speaking.

"So that's why...." he trailed off. I was honestly too scared to say anything now. Why must I speak so bluntly and hurtfully honest to people? Perhaps it is because I had never gotten close to him that now I had no fear in what I said to his face.

"If the reason you plan to leave your family is because of me, then-"

"No," I said harshly, catching him off guard. I was usually snippy with others, but I had never before shown a tendency to be angry or intense with my speech. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with you."

"You have always shown enthusiasm towards coming of age. It's only now, when we are arranged, that you show any difference," He brought on certainty in his voice that I nearly couldn't deny, but the truth was... it really wasn't about him. "I can converse with your father, the rest of the clan... I will find a way to break it off if it will make you stay."

"Din, I don't want you to do that. If you don't believe me when I tell you that you are not the cause of this, then so be it, but I will not have you ruining your good name in my favor, when it won't even stop me," The heat of the moment provided actual, physical warmth for me in the time I was running my mouth off, but now that I had finished, and begun to calm down, I felt the freezing air on my arms again, wrapping them around myself and drawing my legs closer to generate more body heat.

"Are you cold?" He changed the subject, needing something- anything else to say.

"Its not exactly warm up here," My voice was low and sarcastic, but at hearing my words, Din stood up and stepped behind me. Before I even had a chance to ask him what he was doing, I felt his thick woolen cape being draped around my shoulders.

I smiled softly, not even a real, full smile. More of just a small tug from the side of my lips. My real smile was saved for later.

"Thank you."

He nodded as he sat back down, letting his legs fall over the cliffside.

"So you're gonna leave with them, aren't you?" His head turned to face me, but I couldn't dare try and stare at the beskar while thinking of what I would do. This choice was the beginning of the rest of my life.

"I think so," I didn't think. Thinking was what I had been doing too much of. Now I was certain. This was my choice. I was going to start new, and become something different. I may have been born on mandalore, but I was definitely not a mandalorian.

I had a rush of confidence come through me until I remembered what this meant. It all hit me like a dropship coming out of hyperspace. What was I thinking?

"No," I whispered. Din didn't understand my sudden discouragement, but he would soon.

"Merc and his friends already denied the creed. He's a foundling. They all are," I started to tear up as I realized what would happen to my family. The loss of a child in a clan is bad enough, but my family hadn't done anything to dessrve this. They were caring. They had shown me love. They had given me the best life I could ask for on a planet with such a religion.

"Second thoughts?" He asked genuinely, scooting closer beside me as to maybe get more information from my body language, or even my breathing.

"I can't do this. My family would be ruined. If I ran away, they would be punished for it," I felt tears coming up in my eyes. My clan was good to me. The people were kind, and I found solace there. Even if I had always dreamt about something bigger, I couldn't bear to let ruin come upon my family name. It wasn't fair to let that happen, especially when the only thing in the way was my own selfishness. "I can't leave my family."

I let the tears stream down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. The contrast of the cold wind on my hot, tear streaked face had helped to calm me down a little.

"If you plan on staying, you understand that I am apart of your future here, don't you?"

"Din, I already told you before... you are not the reason I want to leave," I tried my best to keep myself together, but with my wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes, I didn't see how that could be an option.

What if there was another way to freedom?

I sat, trying to think of some stories that the other clan members would talk about.

"Din?"

He hummed in response, keeping his gaze on me.

"Has anyone in your clan ever mentioned afterlife?" I maybe should have taken a different approach to this. He seemed to be rendered speechless by my topic of conversation, but I had to ask.

"You mean after death?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I've heard some stories."

I thought about how it had been described to me. A paradise, with never-ending happiness, and unlimted freedom. Freedom.

"After you die, you appear in the world as another life. You can do whatever you want and no one has consequences for any of it. It's like a world without chaos. Everything is perfect," I remember every word as it comes out of my mouth. The words that were spoken to me, more like taught to me when I was a bit younger by the elders who had retired from their days of battle.

"It sounds too easy." He said, ripping me out of my fantasy.

"That's the point. You don't have to worry about anything or anyone, because you can do as you please, and everything will still be the same. All you have to do is die...."

"Like being reborn into a different world."

"Exactly."

I hesitated to take my safety blaster from it's holster under my hip, and when I did, I looked at it before pointing it out in the distance and testing the trigger. It shot a blast of lazer energy out into the air, landing somewhere beneath us in the canyon.

I decided that this was not an act to pursue at the moment, for Din was sitting right beside me, and the sight of watching a young girl pull the trigger against her own head might be an unpleasant one. Even for him, though he has seen worse.

I put the blaster back in it's holster and stand up from the rocky ground. Din follows suit, looking down at me with quiet concern. I wouldn't have known it until now, but I wondered if he had come to care for me at all during these last few weeks we had been betrothed.

I'd known him the majority of my life anyways, so I knew he must have felt some sort of attachment to me, but in what form, I hadn't ever cared to ask.

He kept breathing heavily as he looked down at me for a few moments, and it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me something. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

"Here's your cape back," I slid the material off my shoulders, trying to hand it back to him, but he pushed it back towards me.

"You should keep it for now. The sun is nearly down, it will only grow colder."

He reached his gloved hand up to my face, and I could swear I felt the warmth of his hand beneath the coarse leather.

I only nodded, and leaned forward, trying to lean my head into him, but he carefully stopped me, his hands on my shoulders. Instead he rested his helmet against my forhead, and the cold beskar wasn't such a bad feeling as it rested there.

"I won't let you down. I promise." He said, clueless of my plans for later tonight, after the tribes were asleep, and no one would be at the cliffside.

"I know you won't. You're a good man, Din Djarin." I paused, trying to gather better words. "A true Mandalorian if there ever was one."

The moment didn't last any longer because of how frigid the air was becoming. It was warmer back with the tribes, they always had a fire burning.

Without another word, we both left the old artillery cavern and hiked down the side of the canyon to get back to our own clan territory.

Once I was at the edge of mine, I turned around to utter a simple goodbye, and found that he was very close behind me. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

Maybe this was the last time we would see each other. Tonight I would envoke my plan to freedom, to rebirth. Perhaps we would meet in another life. Perhaps I would have just enough memory of this life to try and find him in the next one. One where I will have freedom.

Tonight I had gotten closer to the metal clad Mandalorian than I ever had before. I didn't regret it. He listened to what I had to say, and there were few who ever did.

His hand fell from it's place on my shoulder, but I didn't let him walk away yet. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reciprocating. It took him a few seconds to let out the breath he was holding in, but when he did, he found himself relaxing into the comfort.

"Goodbye, Din," My voice wasn't sad, or overly sensitive in any way. I figured it actually sounded quite optimistic.

"You know I'll see you tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the clan meetings. Once a month the clans would gather and each tribe would go over the agenda for whatever was to happen soon. Battles were normally discussed, but tomorrow, me and a few of the others in the other clans would be talked about. Our ceremonial coming of age where we would take the creed.

"Yeah... right. Don't come looking for me, I don't plan on showing up," I said quietly, careful in anyone was to hear me.

He pulled me back at arms length and looked at me, but his black blast shield hid his features and I could not tell if he thought I was crazy or not.

"How come?" His voice was also quiet, as we noticed some of my clan passing by to get to the fire.

"Don't worry about it. You'll still see me tomorrow," I lied. Or did I? Everyone within the five neighboring tribes would probably see me tomorrow.

He nodded, pulling us all the way apart and stepping back.

"Good."

He didn't look like he was gonna walk away until I had gone into the hub of my clan's small village. I turned around and walked towards the large fire, seeing my mother. Her helmet was unmistakable. The pattern of the strill engraved into the side of the beskar. It was her signet. A worthy kill of her days in battle. I would never have one. I walked towards her when she noticed me.

Her modulated voice let out a small chuckle, before I stepped beside her.

"It is well to see you spending time with Din Djarin. Me and your father were afraid you may not have been fond of him," She kept her gaze on the fire, speaking only loud enough for me to hear her, given that the other mandalorians of our village were also gathering around the fire, conversing with each other the same way we were.

"I am fond of him, why would I not be?" I was unsure of what she meant. Sure, I had been keeping a distance between us since my father had arranged our marriage, but I never had shown that I wasn't fond of him. I was polite, and gave him attention when it was asked of me.

"Whenever I or your father bring up the discussion of your eighteenth birthday, you always seem to act like it's the plague," She was smirking under her helmet, and I could tell. I could always tell what face she made underneath her metal covering.

"Maybe it's the fact that I dread getting married at all. I'm not opposed to Din, though," I convinced her. I wouldn't have to try and do that again after tonight.

"Whatever it is, your father will be pleased to know you and him were in each other's company. Although I will stray from telling him you two were alone... you were alone, weren't you?" She turned her metal covered head, trying to figure out from the look on my face.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying. No damage could be done at this point, except for maybe towards Din.

"And what were you both doing?" She tilted her head, and I let mine drop. I would tell her the truth, because nothing bad could come from it. Or could it.

"We were just talking... about the future," I answered.

"Your marriage..." She suggested, and I nodded, knowing that it did come up in the conversation.

"Yes."

"I shudder to ask if consummating was apart of this conversation," She looked back at the fire, knowing how red my cheeks would turn and how embarrassed I would be.

"No, nothing like that. I can promise you," I shivered at the thought. Din was a good man, but I didn't necessarily need to be letting thoughts like that intrude my mind.

Everyone else around the fire seemed to be distracted by the glowing flames, and my mother was soon the same, so I suggested my absense.

"I'm going to go in for the night, get some rest. Big meeting tomorrow..." I said before reaching out and squeezing her hand tightly.

She nodded to me, and I took my leave, walking towards our living quarters on the opposite side of camp.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and brushed my shoulder against Merc, who was with Gander and Shyloh.

"Sorry, didn't see you coming," I told him, but he shook his head, optiing ti ask me a question instead.

"Don't worry about it, I was looking for you anyway... Did you think about the offer? We leave at sunrise on the north delivery tarmac," He informed me, but I didn't have an answer. I wasn't staying here, but I wasn't leaving either.

"You'll know if I show up," I gave him a smirk, partially just because I was glad to see someone's actual face tonight, and not just a metal facade.

"We can't wait up for you, just know that."

I nodded, letting them get by. Maybe I could go with them. Live this life freely without starting another one.

No.

My family will not be able to handle that. It's better off if I'm dead. At least they won't go on to believe that I betrayed them, turning my back on all loyalty they had ever taught me. They would nevwr wonder if I ever loved them or planned on keeping their wishes.

I could start fresh. They wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry anymore either. Rebirth.

I went straight to bed, clutching the woolen blanket beside me close to my chest.

For some reason I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Something that made the sting of salty tears swell in my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was best, but yet I started having a hard time justifying something so drastic. They would get on fine without me, wouldn't they? They would go on living by the creed. This is the way. They will find a way to go on without me, like they did before I was born. Din will be arranged with another girl as soon as I'm gone. Everything will be alright.

The wetness that spilled over my eyes and down my face lasted hours, even though my mind kept telling itself that it was at peace.

It was in the dead of night, when I gathered a few of my belongings into a knapsack, throwing it over my shoulder before leaving out the tattered window of my private space.

I ventured to the canyon, with the moons lighting my way. The planet was never truly dark, due to the brightness and the number of shinning moons, all the color silver.

I set my knapsack down on the edge beside me. By the end of this, I would be at the bottom, waiting to be found the next day. I just hoped it wouldn't be anyone I knew. Of course, the number of people who ever came out here was only two. Me, and Din Djarin.

I hoped he wouldn't find me. I hoped it would be someone from another tribe that was flying over, and happened to spot something at the base of the cliffside.

I pulled my flask to my mouth, taking a large drink. A bit spilled onto my chin, and I wiped it off, feeling the breeze on my face. It was much colder now than earlier tonight. I wasn't sure if I should pull the blanket from my belongings and wrap it around myself, or skip the process of making myself comfortable and just get this over with.

I leaned over, looking straight at the ground, hundreds of feet below me. My heart started racing, and I got scared. Why shouldn't I be? I have every right to be absolutely terrified. I closed my eyes, trying to scoot myself over the edge inch by inch, seeing if I would just drop.

I nearly panicked when my bottom hit a crack in the ground and I thought I was going over. My breath hitched in my throat and I instantly pulled myself back.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I murmered, beginning to feel the emotional side of everything rise to the surface again. It didn't help that with the absolute silence that circled around me, I couldn't have any single thing to distract me.

I stood to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin from the frigid air.

I stood right on the edge, lifting a foot over and leaning forward, but before I could fall, I again caught myself, the adrenaline working overtime in my system and beginning to heat me up.

That wasn't going to work either. If I could, I would put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger, but then it wouldn't look like an accident.

I paced around back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself down, to stop the whimpering and to make my tears cease. It wasn't working. I just needed to get this over and done with. A new life, with endless possibilities was waiting for me on the other side. Freedom was on the other side.

I wiped my face, even though it didn't stop me from crying, but it helped me to see clearer. I backed up, into the cavern, all the way inside until my back hit the wall of the ex artillery carvern. This was it. A new beginning. Rebirth. New life. Freedom.

I ran as fast as I could toward the edge, my eyes closed. I could feel the wind blowing against me even harder with my speed, and I could tell the edge was drawing near. Every step I took, I felt as though it was my last one.

I finally felt my foot hit the edge, but then I never fell. Instead, I was tackled to the ground. Whoever landed on top of me was heavy enough to hold me down, because half of me was hanging off the edge of the cliff.

I didn't dare even open my eyes. This was a sign. Someone stopped me.

I clinged onto whoever it was, and knew almost instantly who was laid over me when I heard him groan.

I cried even harder, my head buried in his armor clad chest, and my arms around his neck and his torso.

He was holding me tightly, one hand cradled my head into his neck, and the other firmly gripped my waist. He rolled us both over and I swear I felt him shaking.

"What were you thinking?" He stressed, his grip on me tightening as if he was scared to let go. I was scared too. I didn't want him to let go.

"You have to talk to me..."

I heaved a deep breath, deep enough to steady my voice so my whimpering didn't interfere with my words.

"I want out. I need to get out," I cracked in the middle of saying so few words, but they conveyed the message I was trying to get through.

"I can get you out, I promise.... But please don't ever try that again," His voice was full of worry, and as I suspected, he was trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry..." I cried some more, realizing that what I had done was now the biggest mistake I ever made, even if I was saved.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you," He spoke to me, my voice quieting down as my sobbing came to a slow halt.

I lifted my face from where I had burrowed it into his neck, looking up at him. I didn't know what his expression was, but something told me it was fearful, and worrysome.

"I have to get out of here," I repeated again. The last day or so it became my mantra, and would leave my lips often, even just to myself. Mostly just to myself.

"You're going to. You're going with Merc... when are they leaving?" He asked, his arms still around me like mine were for him.

"At sunrise. They're gonna jump a delivery ship on the north tarmac," I explained, my voice was now hoarse and thick, due to not only all the crying I had done, but also the cold night air that had entered my lungs.

"Sunrise isn't for a few hours..." he let me know, and I nodded, knowing we shouldn't probably leave yet, for the walk to the north tarmac wasn't very long from here.

"Din, if I leave, my family is going to get the fire for my decision. I can't let that happen," I told him, my voice had become more firm, and I needed to convey the importance of how much this meant to me.

"I give you my word, that as long as I live, nothing will happen to your family," He swore, and I could just feel his eyes staring into mine. So much so that for the first time since he put that helmet on, I knew where his eyes were.

"I trust you. And I know that you'll always keep your word," I nodded, a small smile finally forming on my face.

Since it got fairly quiet, and we were still entangled together, I scooted off of Din and opted instead to take the seat beside him.

"I should tell you some things before I go. I just don't want to leave anything unresolved," I admitted, and he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know this might sound horrible, but I hated the idea of getting too close to you. It was like if I had formed an emotional bond with you, I wouldn't be able to leave anymore. And the last thing on my mind had been to stay. I've wanted freedom for a while now, I was just always too scared to say anything. And when my father told me that you and him had come to an agreement for arranging a marriage.... it's like it all became more real to me. My freedom would be taken in just days. The creed of mandalore is sacred, and it's truly an amazing thing... but it isn't for everyone."

He sat and took everything in. All the words that just spewed from my mouth like I had been holding them in for ages went against everything I had ever learned. Everything that had ever been put into my mind was the opposite of what I wanted.

"You're young. You want more than what the creed can offer you. I think you'll be able to find what you want wherever you're going," He said, I knew there was more, for he didn't even mention anything that I had said about not wanting to be close to him, but when he stayed silent, I knew he was finished, and that I still had more to say.

"Din, I wanted to tell you that if I had to be married, I wouldn't have minded it being you," I admitted. I would leave no stone unturned before I was to just pick up and leave forever... maybe not forever, maybe someday I would return to my family, to Din.

"I can't say I don't feel the same," He seemed to become stiff next to me, but I soon found the reason when he suddenly reached for my hand with his gloved one.

I took it proudly, intertwining our finhers together.

"You know, I was only an eight year old kid when you took the creed. I have so many memories of you yourself, but whenever I recall them... I can't see your face. I've completely forgotten what you look like," I laughed a bit, though it was quite a sad thing actually. I could not remember him in a way that wasn't covered in metal. I remembered that he was a boy once, and that he would play with all the younger children in the clan set next to his. He played with me and the kids I lived next to. He was a lively, energetic boy. Always doing something... sometimes causing mischievous acts. He was so different now. But the change wasn't bad. Since he'd taken the creed he has been the most noble, fearsome, and trustworthy member of his clan. Completely honorable in every sense of the word.

"I don't look like I used to. It wouldn't do you any good to remember anyways," He chuckled under his helmet, and it brought a smile to hear the melodic sound.

"Well, if I'd stayed long enough to marry you I would find out for myself," I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort by his presence. If I had made the absolute decision to leave this planet earlier, I could have let myself grow a relationship with him. Romantic or not, he was easy to talk to, and I trusted him. He was a friend to me, and I never imagined more, but now his presence was just something that put me at such ease.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?" He pondered, seeing as just the tiniest moonrays shown down into the canyon ahead.

"Someday. I'll comeback and repay you."

"For what?"

"Saving my life," I replied. My attempt to throw my own life away had been pushed away but I had to bring it up. I owed him my life.

"Anyone would have done the same if they had seen," He insisted, and I shook my head.

"How did you even know I was out here?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep, I took a walk through Ronion until I found myself here. I saw you across from the mesa on the south side... I saw you lift your foot over the edge, I knew what you were trying to do," He said, his grip on my hand got tighter almost instantly.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there, I would be at the bottm of this canyon." I let so much seriousness onto my voice, and it didn't sound like me.

"Don't thank me yet... not until I get you on the tarmac,"

We sat in silence after that, just looking out over the horizon. When the slightest bit of light hit the edge of the planet, we stood to our feet, gathering my knapsack and begining the journey to the north delivery tarmac.

We were there in no time, and before I could even look for them, Merc and his crew were in sight. They were all sitting with their backs against some cargo imports, waiting for the transport to arrive.

"Well, well, well... look at what the shriek hawk dragged in," Shyloh said, gesturing to me and Din.

"Djarin, I didn't expect to see you here," Merc raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets onto the transport safely," He assured them. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and in the brighter horizon I was able to see a cargo ship coming into the landing area.

"Our rides here," I said, and they all jumped up. Since the ships were automatically run, and don't even require droids, it was often very easy to hop aboard and be carried to another destination. Of course, there were only a few who ever wanted to leave.

I myself hadn't ever left Mandalore, neither had I traveled much even on the planet. Only a few trips to visit the the markets with my father. I never even went into the city, for it was told that in the city lived Mandalorians who did not keep the creed. The tribes were convinced that they hadn't actually ever taken the oath, and just wore the armor for the sake of doing it.

The ship's doors opened, pulling me out of my thoughts, and a conveyer belt folded down to let the cargo units be carried out onto the tarmac for later pickup.

"Alright, it's time to head out," Gander said, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and boarding the transport.

The rest followed after him, but I still had one thing left to do.

Din looked at me, waiting for me to join the others, but I came close to him one last time.

"You promise my family will be taken care of?" I asked, to which he simply answered with a firm nod. However the look on my face gave him reason to believe that his answer wasn't good enough, so he spoke instead.

"I give you my word. If they are not taken care of, I will let you strike me dead where I stand."

That was good enough for me. He truly meant it. He was a man of his word.

I pulled his head toward mine, resting ny forehead against his in a traditional mandalorian kiss. I pulled back when I heard my name being called from the transport.

"Goodbye, Din Djarin," I told him.

He didn't respond, he just let me go, watching intently as I boarded the ship before the doors closed.

The cargo transports were always on schedule, so as soon as the doors closed, it began lifting into the air. I looked out through the transparent view finder on the side, watching him stand as we began moving out of sight.

"You gonna miss him?" Shyloh asked, his brows furrowing as if he were sorry for me.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

I lost sight of Din, and realized we were leaving the atmosphere most likely preparing for a jump to hyperspace.

"But I'll see him again."

Tags are open ig...

A/n: please don't get too caught up in the age gap y'all it's just for backstory purposes because this story is eventually going to follow canon events.... (also i know that this doesn't really portray Mandalore correctly, but let's pretend it does because i had this idea)

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x oc #din djarin x jedi!reader #cassian andor #luke skywalker #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #rough day #din djarin series #din djarin imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Last Breath || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: You and Peter have been best friends for years, fighting alongside each other as Avengers. When you nearly die, the true feelings you and Peter have for each other come to the surface.

a/n: Peter’s 19 here b/c let’s just pretend infinity war and endgame didn’t happen and it’s 2021 lol. This is also my first time writing in a long time and first time writing for Peter. Feel free to request below!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: mentions of death, blood, fluff, and I guess angsty, crying Peter

masterlist || request here

You had first met your best friend Peter Parker two years ago after you learned you had powers and had been discovered by the Avengers. Being the youngest two of the Avengers and the same age, you and Peter were practically attached at the hip and everyone was aware of it. Whether it was having each other’s backs during missions, helping each other with homework or binge watching the latest sci-fi television show together, you and Peter were inseparable.

As much as you and Peter had tried to convince yourselves that you were only best friends and nothing more, everyone around you could see through that facade. They caught what you two tried to hide from one another- the stolen glances, the jealousy, the stuttering, the getting flustered when anyone brought up the prospect of you two being anything more than friends.

It’s not as if you two weren’t aware of the feelings that you had- you knew you liked Peter more than a friend should- but you weren’t about to tell him and have him laugh in your face, ruining everything you’ve built. So, the two of you lived in less than blissful ignorance, hiding your feelings from one another.

There wasn’t a nice way to put it- during your last mission Peter got absolutely wrecked. Although he had super-human abilities, even he was taking a longer time to recover which meant him staying back at the Avengers Compound while you and the rest of the Avengers went on a mission.

Peter knew that you could handle yourself and admittedly had powers that exceeded his, but he worried about you and tried to beg you to stay behind with him. He hated the idea of you going out and him not being able to have your back. He wouldn’t be able to relax unless he knew you were safe and he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe while you were out fighting and he was confined to his bed.

“Y/n, please.” He begged, tucked under his sheets.

“Peter, they need me.” You insisted.

“Not as much as I need you, though.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckled at his attempt to implore you to stay.

“Yeah!” He continued. “Who’s going to stay here and look after me? What if I need something? Plus, my leg has been really aching.... so... I think it’s decided! Besides, what would you do if something happened to me?”

You laughed. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Peter. You’re fine. I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”

Debatable, Peter thought. He always noticed when you were there and especially when you weren’t.

“Okay, but, hear me out-“ He explained. “What if someone tries to attack the Compound? I can’t do anything to protect myself! I could die!”

“You’re not going to die, Pete.” You smiled. “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

That was the last thing you said to your best friend before you left with the rest of the Avengers. You would be lying if you said you were totally fine going on this mission without Peter. You were anything but calm. Sure, the others would have your back, but not the same way Peter did, swooping in at the last moment before someone got to you like he was always looking out for you.

You told yourself you’d be fine. For the most part you were. You could handle yourself and you had a good grip on your powers. You covered others and they did the same for you in return.

You had always heard that no matter how good things were going, it could change in a blink of an eye. One moment you could be kicking ass and the next you could be dead. You thought you knew better. You thought that you had everything covered, but you were so focused on the creatures in front of you, you didn’t even hear the one behind you until you felt the blade go through your abdomen.

It happened so quickly you could barely even process it. As soon as the blade went through you, you heard gun shots and the creature behind you and all those in front of you drop. You didn’t even notice, only moving your shaking hands to your abdomen, feeling the area and pulling them away to see your hands covered in blood.

The next thing you knew Natasha was at your side, noticing your wound and turning back to face you.

“Y/n, listen to me, it’s going to be okay.” She said frantically. You know she meant well but the way she lost her cool let you know that this was definitely not a good situation.

The sharp pain running through you made you lose your balance and collapse into her arms. You heard her speak into the ear piece, telling the others that you were injured and needed to get help ASAP. She continued to try to keep you awake and to assure you that everything would be fine but all you could do was cry back frantically that you weren’t ready to go.

When you began to feel light headed, you heard footsteps and without looking up you knew it was Tony.

Seeing you in your current state, he cursed to himself and looked at Nat. “The kid is going to kill me.”

You know he meant Peter.

“We have to get her out of here. The blade staying in there helped, but there’s only so much longer she can go without a hospital.” Nat said.

You felt Tony kneel besides you, still leaning into Nat’s arms. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You could barely even pay attention to what was going on around you, just thinking about how you could die any second. It happened so quick. Before he could pick you up, coughing up blood and struggling to speak you told him. “I told Peter this morning that if he died, I’d kill him myself.” You laughed. “It’s ironic now that I think about it. He told me not to come. He was right... and so were you.”

Picking you up, to rush you to the hospital, he asked, “Right about what exactly?”

“It feels so stupid now,” You spoke, feeling more blood drip down your chin. “I should have just told him. You were right. I do love him.” Beginning to feel lightheaded again and struggling to breathe, you told him: “If I die, be gentle with him... okay, Mr. Sta-”

--------------------

Peter couldn’t sit still in bed, knowing you were out there fighting and he wasn’t there to protect you. Not being able to put his mind or body to rest, he threw off the covers and began climbing out of bed. Sure, he had a difficult time balancing at first and was walking with a bit of a limp, but he could handle it.

Walking out of his room and into the hallway, he heard muffled voices coming from the room, meaning that at least some of the team had made it back home.

Eager to see you, he stumbled quickly into the main room only to be met with Steve and Natasha. Taken by surprise he attempted to stand up straighter, leaning against a wall for help.

“Mr. Captain America sir,” Peter spoke nervously, still intimidated by the man in front of him, despite the many times he fought alongside him.

Both him and Natasha had grim looks on their faces as he attempted to peek around them in hopes of seeing you or Mr. Stark come in behind them.

“Peter...” Natasha spoke gently, slowly moving towards him.

Peter chuckled nervously, cutting her off. “Hey, where’s Y/n? Or Mr. Stark?”

Nat and Steve looked at each other before turning back to Peter. Steve stepped forward, reaching his hand out to Peter’s shoulder.

Peter glanced nervously from Cap’s hand on his shoulder to his face, asking again. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was injured. Tony rushed her to the hospital and they’re operating on her now.” Steve spoke plainly.

Peter’s heart rate jumped and he began breathing heavily, looking between Nat and Steve frantically. “Injured? What do you mean injured? Wait, surgery?” His brain was moving a million miles a minute. He could barely comprehend what was going on, fearing the worse.

Nat spoke this time. “There’s not a nice way to put it, Peter. She was...” She pauses looking at Steve. He nods and she turns towards Peter. “She was stabbed. It happened so quick, Peter. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

Peter feels like screaming that there was something that someone could have done- that he could have done if he had only been there to protect you. He knows that Natasha means well but he can’t help but beat himself up, knowing you’re dying somewhere and he never even told you how he felt. He couldn’t bare to think about your body lying in Nat’s arms while you were covered in blood, scared of dying.

As much as he wanted to scream, he could just feel tears coming to his eyes and turned around, rushing back to his bedroom. He could hear the footsteps of Steve and Nat as he slammed the door behind him, wincing as he stripped himself of his clothes, searching for and grabbing his spiderman suit and pulling it on.

“Peter, what are you doing?” He heard Nat speak through the door.

Holding back his sniffles, he flung open the door, pulling the spider-man mask over his face. “I’m going to go see her.”

Natasha, watching as he struggled down the hallway spoke, “You can barely walk! You can’t go.”

He continued.

Cap spoke this time, “Kid, I get it, but there’s nothing you can do. You have to let yourself hea-“

“No!” Peter shouted turning around. The crack in his voice was evident to the two avengers, making his sobbing clear. “I could have done something! If I was there I could have saved her. She wouldn’t be dying right now if I had been there. This is all my fault, don’t you get it? If it weren’t for me getting hurt I would have been able to protect her!”

The three of them stood in silence and when he felt that no one was about to speak, Peter sighed. “I have to go.”

When Cap was about to go after him, Natasha grabbed his arm. If Peter was hell bent on going, it wasn’t worth trying to stop him.

“At least let us take you.” Natasha said. “You’re crazy if you think you can just swing from here to the hospital and you definitely can’t walk.”

--------------------

The whole way there he had beat himself up for not being by your side, thinking of all the ways today could have gone differently so it didn’t have to end with you dying. He was so exhausted from crying, thinking about you, all the moments he shared and praying that he would get to make more.

Making it to the correct spot of the hospital, he saw Mr. Stark now changed out of his iron man suit and into a regular suit, standing outside a hospital room. When he made eye contact with Peter, Peter stopped short in the hallway.

“Take that thing off.” Tony insisted, pointing his finger at Peter’s mask. “I didn’t just donate millions of dollars to this hospital to keep you two’s identity a secret for you to keep that mask on. Come on, let’s go, I can’t take you seriously in that thing right now.”

Peter hesitantly took off his mask, stumbling further down the hallway. Even from far away Tony could see Peter’s tear stained face, red eyes and red cheeks, surely from crying since the moment he found out.

“Is... is she going to be okay?” Peter asked.

“As good as someone who just got stabbed with a blade from an alien planet can be.” Tony spoke before turning to look at Peter, who was visibly distraught. He sighed, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “She just got out of surgery. If you trust these doctors... they say she’ll be okay.”

For the first time since Peter found out he felt a weight lift off of his chest and the ability to breathe normally come back to him.

“Really?” He asked, cheerfully.

“Yeah, but-“ Tony continued. “You have to knock this off.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighed. “This.” He gestured between Peter and the room you were resting in. “You two. No more of this little elementary school crush stuff.” Peter felt his cheeks flush. “She thought she was going to die after fighting aliens with her superpowers and the last thing she said was that she loved you. It’s disgusting, honestly.”

Peter didn’t even know how to process this. You were in love with him? You were in love with him! He had had feelings for you for so long that he didn’t even think it was possibly for you to look at him as more than a friend. Not only did you look at him as more than a friend- you loved him. Not only did you love him- you thought you were dying and you spent your last words on him.

“I know you feel the same way so just cut it out and tell her.” Tony spoke.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Mr. Stark. “How did you know?” Peter, realizing he just admitted Mr. Stark was right coughed, embarrassed. “I mean... why do you think so?”

Tony laughed. “You’re a smart kid, Parker.” He placed his hand on one of Peter’s shoulders. “But you’re not that good at hiding it. I mean I can’t even count how many times I caught you checking her out in her suit never mind the other times where-“

“Okay!” Peter yelped. “I get it.”

“Not even just me either,” Tony continued, chuckling. “Everyone and I mean everyone, knows.”

Peter, on the verge of being mortified, shouted again. “Mr. Stark! Please stop!”

Finally Tony stopped, checking his watch, looking back up to Peter. “You’re right. She should probably be awake by now anyway. Why don’t you head in?”

“Are you sure, Mr. Stark? What about you?” Peter asked.

“Well,” Tony clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “You’re the one she just confessed her undying love for, so I think she’d rather see you, kid.” He pat him on the shoulder one last time before walking off. “Good luck!”

Peter watched as he walked away down the empty hallway. Holding his mask in his hands, he then turned to the door of the room you were waiting inside. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

His heart shattered when he saw you laying in the hospital bed with your hands folded over your stomach. He hated the idea of you being hurt and it made your near death experience even more real to him.

“Hey, Peter.” You spoke, your voice almost a whisper.

“Hey Y/n.” Peter answers finally looking up from all of the medical equipment you were attached to to instead look at your face.

As he moved closer to sit in the chair besides your bed, he could still see dried remains of blood at the corners of your mouth. He grimaced, piecing the scene together.

“Pete, stop looking at me like that.” You spoke, paused then smirked. “Thanks for showing up in your suit by the way. Nice touch. I can’t believe the spider-man came to visit me.”

Peter smiled but then it faltered. You always knew how to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t help but think about how he was so close to never seeing you again. “You almost died, Y/n.”

“So I keep hearing.” You replied.

“It’s not funny, Y/n.” He spoke seriously, dropping his mask by his side and taking one of your hands. “I- I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my best friend and other half. I know our lives are really complicated, but I don’t know, you make it better. I can’t help thinking about how you almost died. When they told me what happened I thought I would never see you again, Y/n.”

You let yourself become vulnerable, squeezing Peter’s hand, but before you could even speak, he opened his mouth again.

“Mr. Stark told me about what you said.” He spoke softly, scratching the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes.

You tried to stop your heart from racing knowing you were not only attached to a heart monitor, but that Peter also had super senses. You couldn’t help yourself though. Was it mistake to say all that? To be fair, you thought you were going to die, but now that Peter’s sitting here in front of you, you’re scared he knows about your feelings and that he’ll reject you.

“Oh-“

“I like you. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” Peter starts rambling before you could even finish what you were saying. “It’s not just because you spent your dying words telling Mr. Stark you loved me either. I’ve liked you- actually now that I think about it- loved you- for a really long time. Probably since I first met you, honestly. It’s not because you’re like this super cool superhero chick either- don’t get me wrong, it’s super... wow- but I love you for you. Even if you had no powers or anything, I would still love you. I know this is probably a lot and maybe you just said that stuff because you thought you were going to die, but I know that I love you an-“

And just like that years of pining for you just spilled out of Peter’s mouth before you cut him off.

“You like me?” You asked again.

“I mean I love you, but uh... yeah.” Peter said slightly flustered.

Not being able to sit up or lean forward too much due to your healing wound didn’t stop you. Hearing his answer was all you needed for you to grab hold of the front of his suit, pull him towards you and kiss him.

Peter was shocked at first, but soon hummed in response, planting his hands on the pillow on either side of your head. When you pulled away you smiled up at him. “I love you too, Peter. I’m sorry it took me nearly dying to say it.”

Peter, trying to contain his excitement, just smiled and kissed you again, savoring every second of it.

Little did the two of you know that outside your room stood some of the rest of your group of the earth’s mightiest heroes, peeking in on your moment with Peter.

“I can’t believe he finally told her.” Nat said.

“What I can’t believe is that she actually felt the same way.” Sam spoke. “You’re telling me that she spent her dying breath on him?”

“What can I say? I taught him everything he knows.” Tony stated confidently as they turned back, watching the two of you through the hospital room window.

Unfortunately for Peter’s sake, they also witnessed him going to place his hands on your waist while kissing you and accidentally grazing your healing wound, causing you to yelp and wince.

“Sorry!” he shouted. “Oh shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m so dumb, I’m so sorry-“

The others turned to Tony.

“Okay... well there’s only so much you can do to help that poor kid. That’s not on me.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

No Scrubs

Well a scrub checkin' me, but his game is kinda weak

And I know that he cannot approach me

'Cause I'm looking like class and he's looking like trash

Can't get wit' a deadbeat ass

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: You try to keep Steve from dying of boredom at an Avengers charity gala.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, public sex), little bit of a fight, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @cockslut-padalecki’s “Not My Ninth” challenge!! My prompt was No Scrubs by TLC and Charity Gala. I picked our boy Steve for this one, but like post Avengers pre Winter Soldier Steve. Also, is Thor the best wingman? I feel like I’ve been using him in this role a lot. Happy 9K babe!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Steve had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

He hated talking about himself normally, and having to parade around in front of a bunch of rich people was a special kind of torture. But Tony was insistent that the whole team had to be there, and it was for a good cause so he couldn’t say no without being a complete asshole.

He downed the rest of his champagne as some other billionaire asked him the same damn question about how different things were for him now, how much he must miss the 40s, like the war was some golden age of Americana. He just smiled and gave the same polite answers he’d been giving all night, wishing he was able to get drunk. Maybe Thor had snuck in some mead, that could usually do the trick.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark sent me to come find you. Something about the silent auction.”

Steve felt his face relax as he turned to look at you, his breath coming out in a deep sigh. You looked amazing in your silver gown, all shimmery and gauzy.

“Sorry folks, duty calls.” He said with a shrug as he followed you away from the stuffed suits. “What does Tony want? I don’t have anything to do with the auction.”

“Yeah, I know, but your jaw was clenched so hard I was worried you were gonna snap something, so I figured I’d come rescue you.” You said, grinning over your shoulder at him.

“God, you’re the best.” He sighed, following you to the bar and leaning against it as you ordered yourself a cocktail.

“I know, right? You want anything?”

“Not unless Thor snuck anything in. It’s only been an hour and I’m this close to ramming my head through a wall.”

“Sorry Cap, I hate these things too but it comes with the territory.” You said with a shrug, sipping on your Manhattan as you turned to face him. “Now, lets go find our Asgardian friend. As your handler, I can’t have you destroying property out of boredom, and I’m pretty sure I saw that giant sipping from a contraband flask a little earlier.”

He grinned as he moved to follow you, weaving through the crowd as you expertly turned away the whales that kept trying to approach him. You were his fifth handler since the battle of New York, and the only one that had lasted longer than a week. Mostly because you didn’t actually try to handle him, just let him be Steve and deal with any PR fallout that came with that. It helped that you had an easygoing nature that he found endearing, and you could always make him laugh. The fight you’d gotten into with Tony about changing his suit had really done it for him though, he hadn’t seen anyone make Stark back down so fast.

“Odinson!” You shouted, beaming once you found the massive blonde. He’d been cornered by a group of old blue hairs who were tittering and trying to touch his biceps. “Sorry ladies, the god of thunder is needed elsewhere, auction business.”

They all made sounds of disappointment as you extracted the relieved looking god from the group of old biddies, pulling him away towards one of the empty corners of the ballroom.

“What is this auction you speak of?” Thor asked once the three of you were separated from the crowd.

“A clever ruse, my good friend.” You said with a smirk. “You’re welcome by the way. The Captain here is on the verge of committing violent acts out of boredom, and expressed a desire to get drunk.”

“Yes, thank you Y/N.” He said with a grin. “I don’t think I can help the Captain with his problem though, maybe he should head to the bar.”

“Oh, you can’t help?” You said cocking your eyebrow at him before shoving your hand inside his tux jacket and pulling out a silver flask. “What’s this then?”

Steve chuckled as Thor tried to stammer out a reply as you just shook your head and tutted at him, handing Steve the flask.

“Listen, just be a good boy and share. Now, I need to go to the ladies room but if any of these rich assholes tries to come bother you again, just start talking about the horrors of war, and get graphic. They hate that shit.”

Steve handed Thor back the flask after taking a sip, already staring to feel a bit of a tingle in his fingers.

“That woman is not to be trifled with.” Thor said appreciatively as he took a swig, handing it back to Steve. “Have you slept with her yet?”

Steve choked on the mead, his eyes bugging out of his head as he tried to cough up a lung and Thor clapped him on the back, scolding him for wasting good liquor.

“Jesus, Thor! What are you talking about? I don’t want to sleep with Y/N!”

“Oh my god, you midgardians and your hang ups. Your hormones spike every time your around her, it’s very distracting.”

“What?!?! How do you know that?” Steve loosened his tie a bit as he felt himself starting to warm up, telling himself it was just from the booze.

“I’m not just the god of thunder, I’m a fertility god.” He said with a grin. “And every time you two are near each other, it’s like being around a couple of rabbits in the spring.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Steve said as he ran his hand over his face in embarrassment.

“No you stop. We’re in a hotel, just get a room and , what’s the phrase I’m looking for ‘fuck her brains out’.”

“Jesus Christ, who taught you that? Never mind, I know it was Tony.” He said, waving a dismissive hand at Thor as he gave him a wicked grin.

“Oh no.” Thor said suddenly, looking over Steve’s shoulder towards the ballroom.

“What now?” Steve said with a heavy sigh, turning to follow his line of sight to where you were standing, talking to an unsteady looking man in a sloppy tux. “Rumlow.”

“Yes, apparently your STRIKE team leader has been sniffing after your handler for months.” Thor narrated, leaning against one of the columns and taking another pull from the flask. “She’s always rebuffed him, though. I don’t think he’s ever tried when he’s drunk before. Wait, Rogers!”

Steve ignored him as he strode towards you, growling under his breath and loosening his tie even more as he watched Rumlow wrap his hand around your bicep and yank you towards him. Steve was close enough to see you roll your eyes, but couldn’t hear what you said to the man as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and smashed his mouth against yours.

“Hey!” Steve shouted, his brow furrowed as Brock pulled his face away from yours to see what the interruption was about.

You took your chance and head butted him, a curse leaving his mouth in a hiss as he released you. You gripped his left wrist around his thumb and drew it back hard, smirking when you felt a snap at the same time you drove you fist into his ribs.

Steve had to pull you off him as you started beating him with your clutch, opening it up at the same time to search for your brass knuckles.

“You don’t fucking touch me, you goddamn sloppy deadbeat motherfucker!” You screamed as Steve carried you away from the main floor, your limbs flailing as you tried to charge back at Rumlow. “Learn to tie a fucking tie you cocksucking son of a bitch.”

Steve did his best not to crack up at the shocked looks the blue bloods were giving you, a chorus of offended gasps following the two of you as you released a steady stream of profanity. He pushed open the doors to the balcony with one hand as he kept his other hand wrapped tightly around your waist as you were still trying to squirm free.

“Damn it, put me down Rogers! I’ll kick your ass too!” You hissed, turning to swat at his chest.

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ!” He said as you started to kick him, catching him in the shins a couple of times. “Ow.”

“You’re fine.” You said with a shrug, taking a couple deep breaths to calm down.

“Yeah, well Rumlow definitely isn’t. Who gave you brass knuckles?” He said, pulling the weapon out of your clutch.

“Nat did. And it’s not like I even got to use them on that asshole.”

“Yeah but you would’ve.” He said, shaking his head as he handed them back to you. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You just snorted as you shoved the knuckles back into your clutch, leaning your back against the railing.

“Good.” He mumbled, suddenly not knowing what to say to you.

You somehow looked even better after your altercation. Your hair was a wild tangle now, loose strands blowing in the breeze. Your lips were swollen from the unwanted kiss, and Steve could feel the heat coming off you as your chest heaved with deep breaths. He hissed through his teeth when he noticed the torn skin on your knuckles.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re bleeding.” He growled, grabbing your hand to inspect the damage.

“Huh, guess so.” You said, watching him through your lashes as he brought your hand closer to his face.

You felt your breath hitch as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand softly, his brow still furrowed with worry. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the fight, but all you could think about just then was sucking on his thick fingers.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You must have zoned out for a second.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m great.” You said, your voice a little squeakier than you would’ve liked.

He took a step closer to you and you gasped, suddenly feeling very light headed as you felt a rush of slick flood your panties. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip where you had it pressed between your teeth.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you now.” He muttered, his eyes boring into yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Good.” You whispered.

His mouth devoured yours, his teeth pulling your lips open so he could slip his tongue inside, curling it against yours as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed you against him. You moaned as you felt his cock hardening against your abdomen, your pussy throbbing with need as he ground himself into you.

He started to sink to his knees and you followed him, your mouth still pressed to his desperately. His hand moved from your waist to dig under your skirt and he let out a growl when he brushed his fingers against your core, pressing them against the soaked silk of your panties.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” He grumbled, his lips still pressed to yours. “Wanna see if you taste as good as you smell.”

“Oh god, Steve.” You moaned as he hooked his fingers through the side of your panties and ripped them off you, the elastic snapping against your skin and a shove going up your spine as the night air cooled the wetness between your thighs. “Do it.”

He grinned and gave you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move his mouth down your throat. His hand between your legs started rubbing you in big slow circles as he laid you down, putting just enough pressure on you that you were quickly turning into a wriggling mess.

“Hold still, honey.” He ordered, pulling the sleeves of your dress down just enough that your breasts could pop out, your nipples pebbling in the chilly air. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

“Fuck.” You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your nipple in a heavy stripe before flicking it softly. Your hands dug in his hair as he sucked and licked at it, just barely brushing it with his teeth until it was raised to an overly sensitive peak before he moved to the other nipple and repeated the process, making you whine.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he pressed a soft kiss to each breast before moving his face between your legs. His hand was making soft wet sounds now as he kept rubbing your sex, and he groaned when he removed it to take a good look at you.

“Fuck if that ain’t the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He murmured as his lips brushed over your inner thigh.

Your cunt was pulsing with need under his gaze, your plump folds swollen and flushed with heat as he watched you clench around nothing. Everything between your legs was coated in a thick layer of your arousal, and he bit his lip as he watched even more leak out of you.

“I bet I could make you cum with almost nothing, sweetheart.” He teased as he nipped at the soft skin of your inner thighs, inching closer to your pussy before moving away again.

“Steve, please!” You whined, trying to arch your back into his face as you tugged on his hair.

He just grinned before pressing his tongue over your pussy and swirling it through your folds. He had to press his palms down on your hips to keep your body from curling back on itself as he ran his tongue over your sex, lapping at your pussy like his was the first meal he’d had in weeks.

“God you taste so good.” He murmured as he gazed at you through his lashes. “Like fucking peaches.”

You sobbed as he thrust his tongue inside you at the same time his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, making you come immediately. He curled his tongue inside you as your release flowed into his mouth, moaning into your pussy as you spasmed against his face.

Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as you came down, your muscles still twitching randomly as aftershocks shook through your abdomen. He grinned as he sat up over you, undoing his tie before moving to take off his belt as you writhed underneath his gaze. Your brain finally reset and you sat up between Steve’s legs, nuzzling yourself into his neck as you worked to unbutton his shirt.

“You back, honey?” He chuckled as you ran your teeth over his collarbone, dipping your hands under his shirt to press against his chest. “I was a little worried.”

“You’ll find I’m extremely resilient, Steve.” You murmured before sinking your teeth into his pec as you started to undo his fly.

“Shit, good to know.” He groaned as you drew his cock out of his pants and gave it a squeeze.

He gripped your chin and drew your face up to his, raising you up to your knees as he gave you a soft kiss. You moved his cock in your hand to line him up with your entrance, teasing his tip against your folds. Steve wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you a bit higher before slowly drawing you down onto his length.

You let out a thin keen as he stretched you open, relishing the sting as your cunt fluttered around him, adjusting to his girth. He rested his forehead against yours as he started moving his hips at a languorous pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He muttered against your lips before moving to bury his face in your shoulder. “So tight and warm and soft.”

You gripped the hair at the base of his neck tightly as his hips started moving faster, slapping against yours. You felt yourself clench around him as he ground against your clit, making you gasp.

“Shit, Steve! Right there!”

“Jesus, already?” He murmured, running his lips over your throat.

“Just... fuck, you’re so big, Steve. Oh my god, I’m cumming.”

He hooked a hand under your ass to keep you from collapsing as your entire body arched violently, almost bending backwards on itself as you swallowed a scream. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him as he lifted you to wrap around him, his breath hot against your neck.

“Holy shit honey.” He muttered as he pulled you down against him, making you whimper. “You ok?”

“I’m great. Don’t you fucking stop.” You said, tilting his head back so you could press your mouth to his.

He grinned against your lips as he fucked his hips up into you, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his cock dragged over every inch of you, nudging against your cervix and making your breath hitch.

“Right there?” He asked as you dug your nails into his scalp and bit at his lips.

“Fuck, oh goddamn it, Steve.”

You shrieked into his mouth as you came apart, your muscles seizing as your pussy strangled his cock. His hips stuttered and you were suddenly flooded with warmth, his spend sitting into you and coating your canal in thick white ropes. He sat back on his heels and pulled out of you, and you shuddered as your release squirted all over the front of his pants.

“Shit, did you just squirt honey?” He asked, giving you an appreciative glance as he started to tuck himself back in and button his shirt up.

“I think so. Fuck, that’s never happened before.” You said with a shrug.

“Well, damn baby.” He said as he stood up, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

“Shit, we’ve gotta go back in there.” You said, running your hand over your face. “Oh my god, Stark is going to kill us. Hold on and give me a second to think.”

Steve just leaned back on the railing and gave a satisfied smile as he watched you pace back and forth, wringing your hands.

“Ok I think I’ve got it, just one second.”

You went to the door and opened it a crack, popping your head through, jumping when you found Thor leaning against the wall right there.

“Hey, Thor. What’s up buddy?”

“Just keeping the other guests from wandering out and seeing you and the Captain humping like rabbits.”

“Appreciate it. We need a distraction though, cuz we’re both a little messy, and I don’t really feel like explaining that to everyone.”

“Got it, what if I blow out the lights in that chandelier?”

“I think that’ll probably work.” You said, giving him a nod before turning back to Steve. “Alright Rogers, we’re making a run for the elevator. Thor, blow it.”

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nmikaelsonimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Just My Type: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Another case of “I’ve had this blog for almost four years and I haven’t written an imagine based on a song by one of my favourite bands.” This time it’s by The Vamps! Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Just My Type

M-m-m-m-m-my... more than meets the eye To tell the truth would be a lie I saw her out on Friday night, misunderstood

It was so easy to lose oneself in a kiss, to focus solely on the movement of the person whose lips are against yours, two pieces of a jigsaw finally meeting.

For Klaus, it was easy to lose himself in the kiss that Y/N gave him, the fabric of her shirt moving under his hand as he trailed it up her body, the way her fingers danced across his jaw line, before sliding into his hair, tugging on his curls, letting him forget the world for just a moment.

It wasn’t his first kiss, nor would it be his last. But there was something about her, about the electricity that sparked through his veins, the flames on his skin spreading to his heart, that had him seeing things differently.

To so many, she was nothing more than a pretty face. To him, she was so much more than that, his secret weapon that he knew would be turned on him eventually, that would destroy him just like he knew he would destroy her.

And yet, he couldn’t run from her, couldn’t bear to let her go. He was waiting for the moment that would inevitably come, the moment when he would snuff out her light forever, the moment that would do the same to him.

He parted from her, and studied her beauty as she looked at him, breathless.

She's falling for a guy That cigarette, it needs a light Pluck up the courage and invite her nowhere good

Y/N made to kiss him again, playing absentmindedly with his hair. Klaus stepped back, missing the contact as he lost her touch, whispering maybe later as a promise that he knew he would keep. He felt as if he were a fire dwindling out, needing her touch to relight every part of him.

He would have to wait, knowing that there were more important things at hand. Although, how anything could be more important than Y/N, he still didn’t understand.

He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and brushing his lips against her knuckles. She smiled at him, and it was at that moment Klaus was reminded that she loved him. He hated himself for that, hated that he had let her fall for him, a man that was no good for her.

He hated that she had made him weak, knowing that he would never survive if she left him now. He remembered that night when he had first met her, feeling nervous for the first time, telling himself over and over that it would be nothing but a single night of passion, wanting it to be so much more.

A year on, it was more than his promise to himself, but he had still dragged her into a world full of darkness. Y/N was his only light, but he knew that one day she would fade.

The best thing to do would be to end it before it was too late, something he thought in his saddest moments.

'Cause I need this more than just a one night stand Need that honey when she hold my hand Times like this they call for true romance But she's not ready for that

Klaus made the attempt to push down his thoughts of Y/N, the scenes that plagued him every time he allowed himself to think in such a way. Being in love was a double-edged sword: to want to free her, to save her, but to want her to stay with him, was a battle only he could end.

He knew what she thought of it all, could still feel her lips against his after she spoke words of staying by his side, of loving him no matter what.

But still he doubted that he would be able to protect her, feared that he was the difference between bad boys and bad guys, one she hadn’t figured out yet.

He pushed down those deadly thoughts, wanting nothing more than to intertwine his fingers with hers and take her home. But she was his secret weapon, and tonight, she was needed. The face of Klaus Mikaelson the monster resurfaced as they located their target, the young gentleman who had been bothering her friends.

Klaus sat, arms folded, as he watched Y/N approach the waste of space that viewed women as nothing more than objects, but not before she threw one last smile his way. He smiled back, knowing he had taught her well but knowing there were things she wasn’t ready for yet.

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted her to be ready for such bloodshed.

She lets me down Then gets me high Oh I don't know why She's just my type

Klaus didn’t let himself get jealous, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew it didn’t mean anything, knew that the sight of Y/N touching that man’s chest was just that, even if the man in question thought it meant he was getting lucky.

Klaus could hear Y/N’s words, the offer of taking him back to her place sounding appealing. Of course, the man would accept. Klaus had been there, ensnared by such a woman multiple times, captivated by Y/N standing in the doorway of his bedroom, a suggestive smirk on her face.

It was remarkable what she could do to him, how a single look in her eyes could have him forgetting his doubts. In those moments, she was a predator like him, invincible, and it was only then he felt himself transforming into prey, except, as he rid himself of his clothes, he was happy to go to his death.

But then there would be that moment after, when her bare form was curled up next to him, when he would be reminded of just how delicate she was, how applying the right amount of strength could have him snapping her neck, ending her existence.

How others could do so just to get to him.

It was so like him, to fall for innocents like her, but he didn’t let himself think that she winked at him, walking out of the bar with her arm linked through that of the young gentleman.

She's bad advice I don't think twice Oh I don't know why She's what I like

Klaus could see Y/N at the end of the alleyway, could see the man she was with pressed against the wall. She really looked like a demon, he thought, a devil in disguise, so different from the woman she was in those moments when she kissed him, letting him drown his sins in the taste of her.

He had done this to her, made her into this woman with a crueler nature than most. The twisted part of his soul was proud, the other not so much. But still he didn’t think twice about encouraging her, wanting to give her just what she wanted every day of his life.

She wanted this man dead, and so Klaus would oblige. He walked towards her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple, and told her to move out of the way, the man in question clearly confused.

He wasn’t much longer, instead screaming as Klaus buried his teeth in his neck. The hybrid was conscious of Y/N watching, and that part of him that loved what she had become made his heart beat a little bit faster.

She wasn’t afraid of him, like all the others. She loved him for him, and maybe that was why he couldn’t bear to have her leave him.

She was all that he had been looking for.

But I, I, I love it I, I, I love it Love the way she plays with my head

For all his doubts, for all his fears, Klaus knew deep down that Y/N was made for him. She was his partner in crime, his soulmate, his missing piece. She made him feel loved, made him feel whole, reassured him when he fell into the solemnity that came with being him.

And that night, as he told her that he didn’t deserve her, told her that she would only end up getting hurt if she stayed, she did so again. She took his face in her hands, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She told him that she loved him, that there would never be anyone else for her.

Just like there would never be anyone else for him.

Klaus guessed that part of being in love was conflict, a war zone that he would have to cross every day. Thoughts of Y/N, contrasting images of her so vibrant and laughing, and her lying dead at his feet, played with his head continuously, and as much as he hated those darker scenes, he knew it only meant one thing.

That he loved her.

She was his always, his forever, and he would make sure that she remained so. He let her kiss him again, forgetting all his worries for a moment, focusing only on her.

She lets me down Then gets me high Oh I don't know why She's just my type

It was so easy to lose oneself in a kiss, to focus solely on the movement of the person whose lips are against yours, two pieces of a jigsaw finally meeting.

For Klaus, it was easy to lose himself in the kiss that Y/N gave him, the feel of her skin under his hand as he trailed it up her body, the way her fingers danced across his jaw line, before sliding into his hair, tugging on his curls, letting him forget the world for just a moment.

To so many, she was nothing more than a pretty face. To him, she was so much more than that, his secret weapon that he knew would protect him at any cost, just as he would protect her, holding onto her for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t run from her, couldn’t bear to let her go. He was waiting for the moment that would inevitably come, the moment when he would solidify their bond forever, the perfect evening when he could ask the perfect question, her answer making his heart swell instead of break.

He parted from her, and studied her beauty as she looked at him, breathless.

Y/N, the woman Klaus loved.

Masterlist

#TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries #to #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals imagines #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagines #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #Joseph Morgan

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ameliajessicawilliamspond · 3 years ago

Text

There he was.

Hung on a wall like a damn display.

Luke Skywalker, the ultimate prize.

Luke had gone out on a mission alone which always worried Din. Sometimes he would run a little late but he always came back in one piece, most of the time without a scratch on him. The more time Din spent around the Jedi, the more real this power, this Force, of the Jedi became.

He wondered how strong Grogu would become...

This mission was supposed to be two days. Maximum. Luke had laughed and said he'd be home by dinner.

That was two weeks ago.

Which was concerning on its own. But then, the wanted posters on Luke began to dissapate. Han hoped it was because they decided to stop trying, but Din knew better. The only reason a bounty would be taken down is if...if the bounty was fulfilled.

Din followed Luke's trail and realized, unfortunately, he was right. The Jedi was taken to Kessal.

"Did they kill him?" Din asked his informant, voice even, being careful not to portray the fear coursing through him.

"No." The woman said, and Din's heart flipped. "Not yet." She continued. Din leaned forward. "The bounty hunter brought the jedi to Moris Asz, a Crime Boss amongst spice traders. He was to deliver the jedi to Mos Gideon. Word is he decided the jedi was too valuable to waste on Gideon's "experiments", too big a prize to dispose of. Word around here is he has the jedi strung up somewhere on display. A testamony to his power."

Din had a hard time believing that. He had seen Luke hurt in ways thst would keep even the strongest being down and still win an entire battle. There was no way some gangster had him somewhere -alive and awake- without already having been destroyed.

Still, the image that invaded his mind terrified him. Luke Skywalker, strung up somewhere like a morose art piece, bleeding, dying, scared---

No. No, he wouldn't dwell on it. He couldn't. Din shoved the invasive thought from his mind.

The informant sent him Moris Asz's location, a palace in the middle of Kessel surrounded by spice mining camps.

Not a problem for a Mandalorian.

Din spotted a grouping of droids. Reprogrammed battle droids from the Clone War, turned into bodyguards.

Din shot his whistling bird, taking down two at once. He hopped the fence, shoving his way past two more, taking one out with his blaster, the other with his fist.

He turned down a hall. Two humanoids, three droids. The droids fired and the Mandalorian ducked behind a wall, thumping his arm against it. The gaurds called to the droids to stop firing and ran forward, hoping to find an injured intruder. Din leapt up, grabbing one bodyguard by the neck and turning him around, using him as human shield. The other gaurd hesitated, swearing under his breath. Din used the hesitation to shove the meat shield at the other gaurd, knocking them both into the wall.

Turning his attention to the droids, Din pulled out the Beskaar staff, knocking the blasters from their slow metal hands, then piercing through their circuitry.

Behind him, Din heard shuffling. Din stood stock still as the shuffling became a full run. The gaurds behind him had woken up. Din settled into his stance, still facing away from them.

Closer.

Now.

Din swung, managing to brain one, and in one quick motion, pierce the other's heart. They both fell, dead.

Spinning on his heels, he saw the door they had been outside of. Two giant, carved wooden doors that seemed to lead to some grand hall.

That would be a good display room, Din thiught grimly.

Din shoved the doors open and sure enough, there he was, Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, hanging on the back wall, two lights pointing to illumate him, frozen in Carbonite.

Luke indeed looked like a morose painting. His head was raised, mouth slightly ajar. His left hand outstretched, as if he was about to use his power, -or ask whoever was doing this to stop- his eyes, though grey and flat thanks to the carbonite, were blown wide open.

"Kriff." Din swore. Luke would most definitely be dealing with carbonite induced blindness and would be coughing up carbonite for at least a week thanks to whoever did this to him without preparing him correctly.

Din stepped forward, testing for any trip wires. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the carbonite, just to see if there was any trap. But his hand touched Luke's outstretched fingers and...

oh...

He was so still, so cold, like a statue. The little control Din had over himself, his determination to make sure he saw this as just another mission to spare his sanity shattered like glass.

"Oh, Luke..." Din slid his hand fully into Luke's unmoving one. His other hand touched Luke's face, tracing his jaw as he studied the unmoving jedi. This close Din could see it; the terror Luke was frozen in. "What did they do to you?"

He pulled himself from his thoughts, knowing time was certainly of the essence now that he had wasted valuable time. Din dashed around to the side of the box and typed in the release code. Luke began to glow red as the Carbonite melted away. Din looked around again, waiting for the sound of approaching gaurds. Why hadn't anyone else shown up yet?

Luke fell from the device like a pile of bricks. Din rushed forward, catching him just in time, but the jedi shoved him away. Confused, the Mandalorian tried to grab him again but Luke pitched forward, shoving him again before vomiting up grey and Din recognized it as the Carbonite that had entered his mouth coming back up with a vengeance.

Luke trembled above the pile of grey bile below him. He pushed himself back on his knees, his arms wrapping around himself as he desperately tried to look around the room with no success. "I can't see...Why...why can't I see?" Luke begged the air.

Din reached out tentatively. "Luke--"

Luke shot himself backwards at the touch with a rasped "no" and Din pulled his hand away like he had been burned. "Who are you?" Luke asked through chattering teeth. "What happened to me?" He asked.

"You were frozen in Carbonite." Din answered honestly.

Luke's demeanor shattered. Whatever he had left of that jedi mask crumbled before the Mandalorian's eyes. "No, no no no no, I'm not...I can't be...He...He won. He got me. It's over I-I'm gunna be forced to Turn or He's going to kill me. I can't turn to the Dark Side! Please no--no, Vader please-!" Luke panicked, curling into himself.

Din didn't know how to respond, he had no idea what Luke was talking about, trapped in some memory from his past. Brain fog and jumbled memories, another side effect of Carbonite Sickness. He knew he had to calm the jedi down fast before someone heard them. "Luke, Luke listen to me. The war is over, Vader is gone. I'm Din Djarin, I'm here to rescue you."

Luke's head shot up, turning to his general direction. "Din..." He whispered, trying to make sense of his jumbled mind. "Why can't I feel you?" He asked, and Din's heart skipped.

The Beskar made him a nearly blank space in the Force. Luke couldn't sense him. Din removed his glove, grabbing Luke's hand, causing the jedi to gasp, his trembling grip tightening around Din's hand like a lifeline.

"I'm so cold..." He whimpered, curling further into himself. Din was reminded of the story Luke had told him about his time on Hoth and how much he hated the cold. With one hand he pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around the jedi. Luke pulled the matierial tight around him.

"Come on." Din said, as gently as he could. They couldn't wait here any longer, it had been too long since someone had come to find them and that was concerning. Surely someone should have come for them by now...

Din pulled Luke to his feet, never letting go of his hand. "Can you walk?" Luke shuffled from one foot to the other, testing it himself before stiffly nodding. Din squeezed his hand. "Good. Come on."

They got down two halls without a soul in sight. Din was beginning to hope that the universe had finally given him a break.

He should have known better.

Because standing there at the end of the third hallway with a smirk, surrounded by two bounty hunters and a half dozen battle droids, was Moris Asz, arms folded, Luke's lightsaber hanging off his hip. Din yanked Luke behind his back, his free hand hovering over the Dark Saber.

"Oh, little Jedi, that's not where you're supposed to be." the gangster mocked. Luke pushed in closer against Din's back.

"This bounty has already been fulfilled." the Twi'lek bounty hunter mocked.

"He's coming with me." Din responed blankly.

"No, he's really not." Moris Asz said.

The jedi let out a yelp and Din felt Luke's hand ripped from his own. Din spun, Dark Saber ignited. Luke was being held, one hand curled tightly in his golden hair, the other arm wrapped around his throat, by another bounty hunter, the cloak a discarded heap on the ground beneath his feet. Din cursed himself for not hearing the Rodian approach.

"Well well, the Mand'alor himself come to rescue his precious little jedi. My my, how the mighty Mandalorians have fallen." The gangster mocked. Din spun, saber aimed at the gangster's throat, but he simply waved him off. "Don't bother with the pagentries, Mand'alor. Every gun in this room is trained on his little blond head. You so much as flinch, and he's gone. You wouldn't want that, would you, your Majesty?"

Din turned back to Luke, who was struggling against the arms holding him. Din had no idea what to do, how he would save the jedi.

Luke's sightless eyes found Din's helmet and something in them flashed.

Oh.

Oh....

Din shut the Dark Saber off and put his hands in the air.

"Good boy. " the Human bounty hunter next to Moris mocked.

"Kick that over here." the gangster said and Din obliged, kicking the Dark Saber over to him. Moris Asz picked it up to examine it before turning his attention back to Din. "Kneel."

Din hesitated, and the Rodian's grip tightened in Luke's hair, pulling an involuntary whine from the shivering jedi and Din dropped to his knees.

Luke is handed off to the Human bounty hunter and forced to kneel next to Moris Asz as well.

"You are going back on my wall, little jedi. You're too pretty a decoration. Although," he said as he grabbed Luke by the jaw and forced his head up, tilting the jedi's face from one side to the other. "You look real pretty like this too." Luke's eyes wandered, failing to find the man's eyes. Moris Asz released Luke's jaw, the jedi's head falling to his chest, exhausted. "This is the mighty jedi everyone was so scared of?" He waved his hand in front of Luke's face with no response. "Blind as a bat. Pathetic."

Din laughed.

Every head turned to him.

Din looked up, waving his hand in a dismissive way. "Sorry, sorry, continue."

Everyone in the room looked around at each other.

Moris Asz crossed his arms, seemingly growing bigger with rage. "What's so funny?" He demanded.

"Sorry, it's just...you really don't know who you captured, do you?" Din asked.

The gangster looked around the room, bouncing on his heels. No one seemed to know what the Mandalorian was talking about. "What do you mean?" Moris Asz asked.

Din shrugged. "It's just that...sorry, you really don't know?"

The gangster huffed in frustration.

"Spit it out!" The Rodian demanded.

"Jedi don't need their eyes to see."

The room barely had time to process what the Mandalorian had meant before Luke's hand was shooting forward, pulling the lightsaber off the gangster's belt with the Force. Without so much as standing or turning around, Luke ignited the blade into the human bounty hunter behind him who was reaching for his blaster. Luke rose, the bounty hunter still choking around the intrusion in his chest. Luke turned, pulling the saber from his chest and he slumped over. Luke turned to face the rest of the room. He tilted his head slightly.

"SHOOT HIM!" Moris Asz screamed.

Every blaster went off at once and not one came even close to touching the Jedi or the Mandalorian. Four bounced off his blade dead center of four of the droids circuit boards. He reached out and crushed another droid with the Force, throwing the discarded machine into another droid, crushing it as well. He sprang from his spot, attacking the Rodian bounty hunter that had moved his blaster from Luke to Din, cutting off the hand holding the weapon first, before stabbing him in the chest. The Twi'lek bounty hunter next to him dropped his weapon, hands in the air. Luke lowered the lightsaber and lifted his hand towards the man. With a little wave, he muttered "sleep." The Twi'lek crumpled to the floor.

Luke made his way back to stand before his captor, holding the lightsaber towards the now trembling gangster on the floor.

"Now- now, listen, I-I-I didn't mean you no harm. Cone on now, you've won, little jedi, you've won. Why don't you just leave? See, I-I've admitted defeat. I may not know much about jedi but I know they don't seek revenge. Now, you can't kill me. Why don't you just walk away?" Luke stayed stock still, unseeing eyes boring a hole into the gangster's head, unreadable. "Come on now, I thought jedi don't hold no grudges?"

A blaster bullet went straight through the gangster's head. Moris Asz fell to the ground, dead.

Din reholstered his blaster. "Yeah, well I do."

Din moved past Luke and yanked the Dark Saber off the dead man's body, placing it back where it belonged. Then he went back and grabbed the discarded cloak. He approached Luke, Din's hand hovering over the one that still held the ignited lightsaber. He pressed gently on the grip with a soft "hey." Luke took a deep breath and shut the laser sword off.

"You will never cease to amaze me." Din said, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders again before fixing the back of Luke's hair that was tangled from where the Rodian had grabbed him. "Are you alright?" Din asked, his hand finding the Jedi's again, anchoring him.

Luke looked up at him, something distant in that blinded stare. "I'm so tired." Luke mumbled, leaning forward into Din's chestplate.

Din wrapped his free arm around Luke's back. "Then let's go home."

[ TAGGED: @rookshaisbi @lukespieceofjunkponcho ]

#dinluke #star wars #luke Skywalker #din djarin #the mandolorian #fanfiction #whump #bamf luke

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

A prompt for you (though honestly I'll read anything you write because it is always excellent): Wen Ning never dies, but somehow still ends up becoming Wei Wuxian's most feared subordinate...

ao3

Untamed

“Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng said, hurrying after the other man, who stopped and turned with a welcoming expression on his face even though Jiang Cheng knew he was in a hurry after everything they’d just planned. After Nie Mingjue had volunteered to go into the Nightless City himself, a reckless charge to try to kill Wen Ruohan, while the rest of them attacked directly - a final strike, if they could only manage it. “I just…”

He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

He didn’t even know what he was doing here.

Nie Mingjue didn’t call him out on it, though, only stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your support,” he said, voice a little gentler than usual. Like he was trying to comfort Jiang Cheng or something.

Like he wasn’t the one volunteering to go die.

(Just like Jiang Cheng’s mother, and father, and - )

Oh. That’s why he came here.

“I’ll be there,” Jiang Cheng said suddenly, and Nie Mingjue blinked. “At – at the Nightless City. After you kill him, after we take the city…I’ll come find you, to make sure you’re all right.”

That was stupid, he thought to himself as soon as he said it. Nie Mingjue had an entire sect, and friends, and all that – he didn’t need Jiang Cheng hounding him with his insecurities, his worries, his fear that Nie Mingjue would die, too, die and leave him behind just like all the others. Why should he be the exception?

But Nie Mingjue smiled. “I look forward to seeing you then.”

Jiang Cheng swallowed and nodded. “It’s a deal, then,” he said, and watched as Nie Mingjue strode away.

He promised himself that he’d do as he said he would.

Even if all he found was Nie Mingjue’s corpse.

It ended up not being Nie Mingjue who killed Wen Ruohan, but rather a combination of Wei Wuxian’s new cultivation style and Meng Yao, who’d apparently been working as a double agent or – something.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t really clear on the details.

He rushed over to Wei Wuxian’s side at once, checking him over as best as he could, yelling at him over…he wasn’t even sure what, it wasn’t really important. Recklessness, probably. Wei Wuxian seemed to understand what he meant, though, grinning at him with bloodless lips.

“You worry too much,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep for – a week. Maybe more. Let’s go back to camp, and I’ll do just that.”

Jiang Cheng was about to agree when he remembered his promise.

(Nie Mingjue hadn’t been there at the final fight, although Wen Ruohan hadn’t been at his full power, either. Had he sacrificed himself to wear down their enemy?)

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asked, noticing.

“Chifeng-zun,” Jiang Cheng said. “I didn’t – see him.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “You think…? Oh, poor Nie Huaisang..!”

Jiang Cheng wondered for a moment why Wei Wuxian’s first thought was of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that Wei Wuxian hadn’t been there for all those months of working as Nie Mingjue’s lieutenants, him and Lan Wangji and even Jin Zixuan. He wouldn’t have that personal connection with the man, beyond the brief meeting they’d had with him before the indoctrination camp - he wouldn’t have experience with his reliable competence and his talented leadership, his compassion or the gruff praise that he gave sparingly but sincerely and which made Jiang Cheng feel for once in his life like he was every bit as good as Wei Wuxian.

“I want to…” He was going to sound dumb. No, he was a sect leader, as Nie Mingjue often (gently) reminded him; he had to decide for himself what he was going to do, and have faith that his decisions were the right ones - and act accordingly. “We’re not leaving yet. We’re going to go further in, see if we can find him. Do you think you can hold up a little longer?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said, straightening up. “I’ll be fine for a while yet. Let’s go.”

“You’ll tell me if you –”

“Yes, Jiang Cheng. Stop nagging. Now are we going or not?”

Unexpectedly, Nie Mingjue was alive.

Alive, and also extremely pissed off.

“I’ll take him back,” Jiang Cheng said to Lan Xichen, who looked relieved: he was protecting Meng Yao from Nie Mingjue for some reason. “Better to go separately.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen said.

Jiang Cheng saluted and went over to Nie Mingjue, who was leaning on Wei Wuxian – a case of the injured helping the injured, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion, and he glared at his disciples until they ran over to assist them both.

Wei Wuxian was frowning, he noted. “What is it?” he asked, and Wei Wuxian shook his head, refusing to talk and inclining his head meaningfully down towards Nie Mingjue, who looked more tired than anything else. Exhausted, injured, even half-dead…“We should go.”

“No,” Nie Mingjue croaked. “There are probably – prisoners.”

“It can wait until we’re back at camp, surely?” Jiang Cheng asked. “We lost a lot of people in that battle. We could get reinforcements, then come back and do a full sweep when we’re less exhausted.”

“They might be injured, though,” Wei Wuxian put in, though he looked tired, too. “It’d be a pity for any person to die in Wen Ruohan’s custody right after we finally defeated him.”

It was a good point, Jiang Cheng thought, and although he was pretty exhausted himself, he forced himself to nod. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go sweep the place, look for prisoners. But you two are going straight back to camp, okay? No exceptions, no heroism, nothing! If I get back and I hear that you two took a left turn and fell face-first off a cliff into a pile of magma because you thought there was a baby bird that needed rescuing, I will personally resurrect and stab you both!”

Both Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian were grinning at him in a suspiciously indulgent (and almost identical) sort of way, Jiang Cheng noticed, but they also agreed solemnly to make no detours, not even if it was the most heartrending of baby birds, and Jiang Cheng supposed he had to be happy with that.

They staggered off together as he turned to go further in, and as he did, he thought he heard Wei Wuxian say, “Tell me more about what Meng Yao said to you –”

“Sect Leader Jiang!” one of Jiang Cheng’s subordinates said, rushing over and saluting. “I found another cell!”

Jiang Cheng ran his hand over his eyes, wanting nothing more but to sleep. “Show me where,” he ordered instead.

He’d already dispatched one of his disciples to act as a runner to Lan Xichen, asking for him to send more disciples from his Lan sect and the Nie sect (which he’d been helping coordinate in Nie Mingjue’s absence) to help get all the prisoners out – there were so many of them, and many of them were, as predicted, in poor health. He would’ve preferred to ask someone else, since the Lan and Nie sects had suffered as many injuries as his Jiang sect, but the small sects were focused on themselves right now and the Jin sect…well, they’d done so little in the war up till now that he’d almost forgotten that they were an option until one of his subordinates had suggested them, and then he’d dismissed the suggestion, too.

If the Jin sect were here, he thought ungraciously, they were probably busy trying to find the treasury.

At least the Lan and Nie sects had managed to confiscate the Yin metal first.

At some point, they’d have to find a way to destroy it…

Distracted by thoughts of politics, Jiang Cheng followed his subordinate down a twisting hallway to yet another set of cells, dark and dank but not quite as close to the place where the Yin metal had been used to refine ghost puppets, and there were men and women chained to the wall here. Unrecognizable, most of them, beaten and starved. They were probably the scions of small cultivation clans…

“Wen Ning?” he blurted out, surprised to recognize the kind-looking face of one of them. To barely recognize: Wen Ning had circles under his eyes, bruises on his face, and his usually round cheeks were thin. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s been here for weeks and weeks,” one of the other prisoners said at once. “He’s not – one of those Wens.”

Wen Ning could still blush, Jiang Cheng noticed, and as much as he would have said he hated all those surnamed Wen – well, that wasn’t quite true, was it? Wen Ning had been there with Wen Qing, when they’d helped them. Jiang Cheng had rescued and released her, giving her that comb as a keepsake…it would be manifestly unjust to make the exception for one and not the other.

His disciples were looking at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Jiang Cheng snapped at them. “He’s a prisoner, he’s hurt. Treat him as you would any of the other prisoners we’ve rescued.”

That would be his story, he thought, if anyone later came knocking at his door to ask what he was thinking, letting a Wen go free.

Maybe it was his fault, Jiang Cheng reflected. He shouldn’t have thought ‘go free’.

Go free implied that Wen Ning would go somewhere else, rather than following him and Wei Wuxian around like an imprinted puppy. It only got worse when Wei Wuxian spontaneously declared that he would help him find Wen Qing to make sure she was safe – without asking Jiang Cheng first, which was unhelpful.

“We can’t be seen as being partial to the Wen sect,” he groaned, head in hands. “Not even the distant branches, but much less someone adopted by Sect Leader Wen himself…no offense meant, Wen Ning.”

“None taken,” Wen Ning said.

“But they helped us,” Wei Wuxian argued, clearly choosing to take the offense on Wen Ning’s part. “It would be unjust for us to turn on them now, when we have the power and they don’t, when they took risks on our behalf in the past.”

Jiang Cheng squinted at him. “Is this related to your weird thing about Lianfeng-zun?” he asked. Wei Wuxian had taken a firm stance against the man recently, and had spoken of it incessantly.

“No! Or, I mean – I would’ve done it anyway, okay? Listen, I really don’t like that guy.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng gasped dramatically. “You, Wei Wuxian, don’t like Lianfeng-zun? Wen Ning, did you hear that? Can you believe it?”

Wen Ning was hiding his face behind his sleeve – a Jiang sect outfit, one of Jiang Cheng’s own spares, since that was what they had, but the dark purple suited him rather well. Better than the red ever had.

His shoulders were shaking with laughter.

“Traitor,” Wei Wuxian told him.

“Sorry, Wei-gongzi!” Wen Ning giggled.

(Jiang Cheng did not think that Wen Ning was cute when he laughed, nor did he wish to see it happen again, to be the cause of it again. He was the leader of a sect, with an obligation to have heirs to carry on his parents’ legacy – he could think Wen Qing was pretty, even if she wasn’t exactly an advantageous match, but he was not allowed to think the same about Wen Ning.)

Wei Wuxian sighed and flopped down. “His conduct is questionable,” he grumbled. “Lan Zhan agrees with me…Anyway, why are we talking about Lianfeng-zun again? I thought we were talking about finding Wen Qing, and the rest of Wen Ning’s family?”

Jiang Cheng groaned again. “I can try to raise it at the meeting in Lanling,” he said, even though they’d all agreed that it made the most sense for the Jin sect to be the ones to resettle any prisoners of war, mostly on account of them having the money, the manpower, and the time, being the only sect that didn’t have significant work to do rebuilding after Wen sect aggression. “Provided you behave. Okay?”

Wei Wuxian, predictably, did not behave.

“Sect Leader Jiang?” Nie Mingjue unexpectedly said from the doorway to the room Jiang Cheng was staying in, and Jiang Cheng spun to stare at him in horror that someone was seeing him in this state. The other sect leader stepped inside, ignoring the mess of things on the floor from Jiang Cheng’s temper tantrum, and closed the door behind him. “Are you all right?”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to say something – something confident and self-assured, something that would help brush away Wei Wuxian’s atrocious behavior and his own as nothing to worry about, something befitting the sect leader of the Jiang sect – but the words stuck in his throat and, instead, to his absolute disgust, he burst into tears.

He expected Nie Mingjue to make a hasty exit at that point, appalled by the rampant display of emotionality, and that he’d have to apologize later for disgracing himself in such a fashion. That had been the way it had always gone with his parents, his father who hated sadness and his mother who hated weakness, and so he wasn’t expecting it at all when Nie Mingjue stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. Into a hug.

It was terrible: there was absolutely no way Jiang Cheng would be able to get ahold of himself now that he was feeling warm and protected and like someone gave one single damn about him.

Nie Mingjue didn’t let go of him, not even when he tearfully apologized for making a display – “It’s not wrong to have feelings, Jiang Wanyin, and it’s not harming me to be here while you let them out.” – or even when, in broken unfinished unpolitical sentences, Jiang Cheng started stuttering his way through…he wasn’t even sure what he was saying.

Possibly a rendition of all the bitterness and resentment he’d ever had in his life.

When it was done, after he’d wept all the tears he’d hidden inside of him, Nie Mingjue said only: “Feeling better?”

Jiang Cheng swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “…yes,” he said, realizing that he did. “I’m sorry –”

“Do not apologize for having emotions like any other human being. Or for being a burden on me, which you are not.”

Jiang Cheng wished it didn’t feel so good when Nie Mingjue – stiff, stern, harsh Nie Mingjue, who rarely said kind words and never said anything just for the sake of saying it – said things like that. It would make it far easier to keep his dignity intact.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, instead. “It wasn’t to hear me talk about Wei Wuxian.”

At least, not the lifelong story of how Jiang Cheng had always been second to him even before he’d shown up – how his birthday was only a few days later, his skill a little bit less, his temperament inferior, his life inferior; how Jiang Cheng could ignore all of that if only Wei Wuxian were his brother the way he was his, the way he’d promised to be, and yet more and more nowadays it felt as if it were slipping out of reach.

“It was,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s been coming around rather a lot to discuss Lianfeng-zun. It was his vehemence on the issue that reassured me that I wasn’t overreacting to the unnecessary death of my sect cultivators at Lianfeng-zun’s hands –”

The what?

Maybe Jiang Cheng should have listed a bit more when Wei Wuxian started ranting about how untrustworthy he thought Lianfeng-zun was.

“– and you have always had the strongest confidence in his sense of righteousness, even after he switched over to using demonic cultivation. Based on that, I thought there might be some reason behind his actions.”

Wei Wuxian’s actions: kidnapping an entire cohort of Wen sect cultivators from a Jin sect resettlement camp, assaulting several guards, running away, bringing shame on the Jiang sect by association…

“If I knew anything, I would tell you,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. “But that would require Wei Wuxian telling me. Anything. At all.”

Nie Mingjue nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think he acted maliciously?”

“What? No,” Jiang Cheng said at once. “Of course not.”

“Do you think his thinking was affected by his demonic cultivation?”

“I almost wish it was, but no. He’s always been – like this. Reckless and over-confident, never thinking of consequences.”

“So you still have faith in him?”

“Of course!”

“That’s good enough for me,” Nie Mingjue said, as if Jiang Cheng hadn’t spent half a shichen crying on his shoulder about how all of his problems and how he couldn’t do anything right. “Let’s go ask him.”

“What, now?”

“Are you doing anything else?”

Fair was fair, but politics were politics: “If you’d gone about it the right way, perhaps the Jin sect wouldn’t have a claim,” Nie Mingjue said, pacing around the Burial Mounds with a scowl. “But as it stands now, it’s your word against theirs – and yours will be considered impaired on account of your demonic cultivation.”

“What about the testimony of the victims?” Wei Wuxian demanded.

“Wen sect,” Jiang Cheng put in, and shrugged when Wei Wuxian glared at him. “It’s true! Like it or not, their surname is Wen, and for Wen Qing and Wen Ning in particular, they were Sect Leader Wen’s wards.”

“It was not our choice,” Wen Qing said. Her voice was cold, and she’d tried to return the comb to him, earlier, though he’d refused – why he refused he didn’t know, since her decision to approach Wei Wuxian to seek help in rescuing the rest of her family rather than him had cut off any hope of anything between them. Even if she eventually understood his perspective, or even apologized for judging him unfit or unwilling to help her, he didn’t think he could live the rest of his life with a woman who had picked Wei Wuxian first.

“That isn’t what’s important, though,” Wen Ning said unexpectedly, and they all looked at him. He ducked his head, picking at his sleeve. “It isn’t. Sect Leader Jiang’s right: our surname is Wen. It’s reasonable for people to assume that we’re loyal to the Wen sect, and to treat us accordingly.”

“We never fought against anyone! We’ve never –”

“It doesn’t matter what we did, jiejie,” Wen Ning said. “Whether or not we fought for our sect, we would’ve benefited if they won, right? You rise when your clan rises, and fall when it falls. Why should we be an exception?”

“Well said,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wen Ning abruptly turned bright red – Jiang Cheng shot him a sympathetic look; he entirely understood the issue there. “Your testimony will be deemed self-interested, and even asking for it will only undercut Wei Wuxian’s position. Not to mention the Jiang sect’s.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, but Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. “Then just kick me out of the Jiang sect,” he said.

“What?” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, and even Nie Mingjue looked startled. “Absolutely not!”

“Why not? Isn’t the whole point that the Jiang sect is being dragged down by me and my new cultivation? Kick me out, and the problem’s solved.”

“I could cut off your head, and that of everyone else here,” Nie Mingjue said. “That would also solve the problem, but for some reason I’m not suggesting it. Can anyone tell me why?”

“…because it’s a bad idea?” Wen Ning volunteered.

“Because it’s a stupid idea,” Nie Mingjue agreed.

“It is a stupid idea,” Jiang Cheng growled. “Even putting aside that I don’t want to cast you out, do you really think people will stop blaming the Jiang sect for your actions just because you’re formally not aligned with us?”

“There isn’t another option,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m not giving up the Wen sect, I’m not changing my cultivation style, I’m not giving up the Tiger Seal – and I’m not dragging the Jiang sect down with me, not if I can help it.”

“Are they really calling me ‘Ghost General’?” Wen Ning asked on one of his visits to the Lotus Pier to pick up supplies for the Yiling Burial Mounds.

Since Wei Wuxian had been so set on splitting from the Jiang sect, they’d eventually reached a compromise, of sorts. Wei Wuxian’s actions in rescuing the Wen sect remnants was – not endorsed, per se, as it was clearly wrongful, but Nie Mingjue announced that he had examined the Wen in question and found evidence suggestive of malnutrition and abuse, which indicated at minimum some negligence on the part of the Jin sect in not supervising the guards better. Accordingly, the Wen sect would be removed from the Jin sect’s custody and permitted to set up camp in Yiling under Wei Wuxian, but as punishment for his reckless and unsanctioned behavior, Wei Wuxian was to be expelled from the Jiang sect.

Since the expulsion was mandated by external forces, rather than being a result of his own decision, Jiang Cheng was able to give Wei Wuxian a sizeable settlement as a gift for his separation – the cultivation world gossiped about it, but most people seemed to think he was just trying to get his own back at Nie Mingjue for supposedly forcing the decision to expel Wei Wuxian down his throat – and to set up something of a trade agreement to send them more, although exactly what the Jiang sect was getting out of their side of the ‘trade’ was still up in the air.

Despite these outward signs of remaining support, several small sects had made attempts on the Burial Mounds, growing more reckless once they realized that Jiang Cheng really hadn’t left any forces behind to protect it – stupid of them, of course, since the reason he hadn’t left anyone behind was because he didn’t need to.

Wei Wuxian could handle himself perfectly well.

As could Wen Ning, apparently – he was a truly excellent archer, it turned out, and capable of waiting in all sorts of strange places with perfect patience, even if sometimes he had strange ideas about painting his face with mud to better blend in. It’d been one of those incidents that had given rise to the rumor that he was actually dead, having been resurrected by Wei Wuxian…

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “Sorry about that. I tried to tell them to stop, but…”

“It made it worse?”

“It made it so much worse,” Jiang Cheng sighed. “Anyway, would you like to drink?”

“…do you mean tea?”

“No.”

“Yes please,” Wen Ning said. “I have been – so stressed. You wouldn’t…actually, you probably would believe it.”

“I grew up with Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said grimly. “I believe anything.”

“It would be good to bring a representative of Yiling Wei sect to the conference, even if it can’t be Wei Wuxian himself,” Nie Mingjue remarked, looking down at the plans Jiang Cheng had laid out for the first discussion conference to be held in the Lotus Pier since the war. “You’re on good terms with Wen Qionglin, aren’t you? Ask him –”

“No!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, then realized he was being suspicious and cleared his throat. “Maybe someone else should invite them.”

Nie Mingjue looked at him over the table. “…has something happened?” he asked.

Jiang Cheng stared down at the plans and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Nothing important,” he said, and his voice cracked on the last sound – embarrassing.

Still not as embarrassing as that time he cried into Nie Mingjue’s arms, no, but still…embarrassing.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said. “You slept with him.”

“How can you tell?” Jiang Cheng hissed, mortified beyond all belief. “Is it – written on my face –”

“According to Huaisang, it’s always a safe guess,” Nie Mingjue said, and shrugged when Jiang Cheng gaped at him. “Either they admit that that’s the case, as you just did, or they get all up in arms and explain what it really was while denying it.”

“That’s –” Really useful and Jiang Cheng will have to put it into effect immediately. “– terrible.”

“Works, though. Why the embarrassment? I didn’t think the Jiang sect cared about cut sleeves.”

“We don’t,” Jiang Cheng said, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. “But I’m sect leader –”

“You had sex, it’s not like you got married.”

“I used to have a thing for his sister.”

“Awkward, I suppose, but it never went anywhere, did it? One can hardly hold your past inclinations against you –”

“We were both thinking about you,” Jiang Cheng blurted out, and then promptly wanted to die. He could have just not said that. He could have said anything else but that. He could stab himself right now and maybe Nie Mingjue would be so distracted by the bleeding and screaming that he would just forget what Jiang Cheng had just said…

“You could always just ask,” Nie Mingjue said.

Jiang Cheng looked up through his fingers. “…are you serious?”

Nie Mingjue looked at him with arched eyebrows. “Are you asking me if I’d be flattered by being propositioned by two extremely beautiful and deadly cultivators?”

“I wouldn’t rank those two as equally desirable traits in a lover,” Jiang Cheng said, and it was almost not a lie, “but…yes?”

He thought for a moment.

“If I did invite Wen Ning to the Discussion Conference…”

“Well,” Wen Ning said. “This wasn’t how I was expecting to end up.”

“Me, either,” Jiang Cheng said. He was staring up at the ceiling and thinking about not moving again for – possibly ever.

“Same for me,” Nie Mingjue, on his other side, agreed. “But I have no objections to how it worked out. There aren’t two other cultivators I’d rather be with.”

“There’d better not be,” Jiang Cheng said on automatic, then considered bashing his head in – luckily both Wen Ning and Nie Mingjue reached over and put their hands under his head so he couldn’t, which made him feel warm and happy in a way subtly different from the way the sex had. “I mean, who else would it be? Zewu-jun and Lianfeng-zun?”

“Wei-gongzi still thinks Lianfeng-zun is trying to kill you, you know,” Wen Ning said to Nie Mingjue, who looked long-suffering. “He’s got this idea –”

“He can’t be trying to kill me,” Nie Mingjue argued. “He’s just offered to help Xichen play calming music for me –”

“Wei-gongzi said that maybe he’s trying to kill you through the music –”

“I’m going to sleep,” Jiang Cheng announced. “When I wake up, we can discuss the political implications of letting there be rumors about us sleeping together, which will make it both convenient for us to do this again and also maybe using the potential threat of a Yiling Wei-Yunmeng Jiang-Qinghe Nie alliance to force the Jin sect to take action so we can figure out once and for all if Lianfeng-zun is actually planning to do something. But for the moment, I am going to sleep.”

“…seems fair,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Communication and straightforwardness is important in relationships like these.”

“Uh,” Wen Ning said, glancing at Jiang Cheng. “About that…if, theoretically, I were to know something about someone…”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #exception #lurkingcrow

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holylulusworld · 4 years ago

Text

Deafening Silence

Summary: Steve and you are falling apart. Can you save your marriage?

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sharon Carter (mentioned), Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, language, unrequited love?, arguments, you and Steve go through a rough patch in your relationship, regrets, a hint of fluff, pissed reader, sadness

A/N: Not Endgame compliant. No one died, everyone is still alive and kicking.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Another cold night awaits you. Once upon a time you and Steve were undefeatable and, to be honest, sickening in love. Now you lie on the edge of the bed, try to not get too close to your husband as he always finds an excuse to not hold you in his arms any longer.

Tears well up to your eyes hearing him snore lightly next to you. Wondering if he’s losing sleep lately too but the way he peacefully sleeps tells you, he’s not letting his mind run wild.

“No sleep for me again, I guess,” silently leaving the bed you grasp one of his shirts to press it to your nose. It’s the only time you can catch his scent, so you take what you get. “Sleep well, Stevie. You don’t seem to have problems falling asleep.”

As so often lately, you walk out of the bedroom to grab a snack or watch nonsense on TV to take your mind of the problems right in front of you. Somewhere on the line you and Steve lost your love, or you lost Steve. You haven’t found out yet.

All you know is that the deafening silence between you and your husband is breaking you every day more.

“Can’t find sleep?” Bucky asks, watching you sit on one of the chairs in the kitchen. Steve invited his friend to sleep a few weeks at your guestroom as his apartment got blown up by one of New Hydra’s goons.

“I just-“ you bite your tongue, shaking your head every so lightly. You like Bucky, he’s your friend, but you can’t talk about Steve with him. He’s your husband’s best friend and would side with Steve over anyone. “Sometimes I got problems to fall asleep, is all,” you lie poorly.

“What about Steve?” searching your face Bucky nods silently. He can see your red-rimmed eyes and hear your tiny sighs whenever Steve ignores your present. “Maybe you want hot cocoa? I can make you some, doll.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just sit here for a while, ya know,” playing with your wedding band you don’t meet Bucky’s gaze, fearing he’ll see through your lie. “I just got a lot of things going on right now. We are back, work with Tony and the others again. Maybe we just need time to adapt.”

“If I can help, tell me so,” offering a cracked smile you nod, knowing you can’t take Bucky up to his offer. “You’re my friend too. How about we watch a movie and talk a bit?”

“I appreciate your offer, but I’m not in the mood to talk, Bucky,” sadly you are too tired and emotionally exhausted to even talk about the thing weighing heavy on your heart.

“Y/N,” walking toward Bucky places one hand onto your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Just talk to him, doll. Steve loves you and-“ you huff. It’s the first reaction he gets from you making clear you are hurt.

“I don’t want to talk about it, him,” voice cracking you watch Bucky rummage in your kitchen to prepare cocoa for you.

“You went through a lot together over the last years,” Bucky begins, eyes drifting toward you slumped in your chair. “Ultron, the accords, me,” you laugh when Bucky gives you a wink. “I know, I’m the most charming event rocking the boat but then there was the war between the Avengers, Thanos, the blip, and after that-”

“Steve told me he thought about going back to Peggy for a split-second, that life back then was easier and more-“ you try to find the right words but fail. “All I got was that he’s still a man out of time and that he’s sorry for considering going back.”

“Well, shit-“ Bucky grumbles. “I didn’t know, I swear. Here I stand, believing I know everything about my friend,” you shrug, watching Bucky prepare two mugs. “Did he at least apologize?”

“He did, more than once and I forgave, but never forgot,” sniffing you look at Bucky. “Since then, he started to distance himself from me. I feel like he regrets coming back to me, Bucky.” gasping you realize you just revealed your thoughts.

“Doll...”

“Please don’t tell him. I know Steve is a good man, but sometimes I think it would be easier for me if he just does what he has on his mind for months – file for divorce.”

“Anything from Steve?” watching Bucky check his phone you sigh deeply. Steve disappeared this morning, out of the blue. “Why didn’t he tell us about his mission? He always told me about his missions, confidential or not.”

“I got nothing either, doll,” grumbling Bucky sit on the couch, scrolling through his contacts. “Shall I call Tony or Natasha? Maybe they can fill us in why Stevie just grabbed a bag and left without telling us about his mission.”

“No,” biting your lower lip you wreck your brain. Maybe Steve did tell you about his mission? Lately, you are too lost in thoughts and self-doubts and barely listen if Steve finally talks to you. “I have work to do at the new tower. I will ask Tony if he can tell me about Steve’s whereabouts.”

“Okay,” wondering again Bucky looks at his phone, shaking his head at Steve’s message from last night.

“Steve is not on a mission?” gaping at Tony you try to hide you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I thought he went on a mission last night. Did I confuse the date?”

“There is no mission for Capsicle,” Tony snickers. “According to my information, he took a week off. Said something about sorting things out. Honestly, I didn’t listen.”

“O-okay,” you swallow thickly, force a smile on your lips hurting your face. “I got it wrong then. I finished my reports. You should check on the sidenotes about the bank accounts. Maybe E.D.I.T.H. can check on the accounts later.”

“Y/N, is everything alright? You look a little shaken up or something,” Tony watches you fiddle with your phone, knowing something must be off with you and your husband. “Do you need my help? You know that you can tell me anything.”

“It’s nothing, really,” the lie rolls easily off your tongue, you are used to lying to yourself for months so why not lying to your friends too. “I just need some time off, Tony.”

Aimlessly walking the streets of New York, you doubt your husband once again.

Tony said he’s not on a mission. All of your friends don’t know where he could be and Bucky, well he said Steve didn’t tell him anything.

“Where are you Steve?” looking at your phone you sigh deeply. “Fine, we will do it the hard way. E.D.I.T.H., please use the tracking app we put on Steve’s phone. I need to find Captain America. It’s an emergency.”

“Tracing Captain Rogers’ phone,” E.D.I.T.H. replies. “Captain Rogers’ phone is not far away. He’s at a café, P.J. Clarke’s on 55th and 3rd, agent Rogers. Can I help you with anything else?”

“No, thank you,” walking faster you grip your phone tightly. Why is Steve at a café at that time of the day? He never disappeared only to take a day off and sip coffee.

If a heart can shatter, yours does in the very moment you arrive at the café only to see Steve sit at a table with Sharon Carter.

You haven’t seen her for years, but you must admit, she looks great as always.

“Stevie,” you whisper, hands clutched tightly to your chest when Sharon places her hand onto Steve’s on the table and he doesn’t move his hand away. He smiles, even chuckles at something the woman says. “A Carter again, how pathetic. Fuck that. Fuck fighting for our love if you refuse to even try.”

Unbeknownst you saw him with Sharon your husband tries to ask his friend for advice. Missing your pained expression and the tears run down your face when you storm off.

“Doll! Fuck I was worried about you. Tony called, asked if you are okay. He said Steve is not on a mission and that he took a week off,” Bucky watches you storm into your and Steve’s apartment. “Y/N, something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, Bucky. But from now on, I’ll take my life back in my hands,” you quip. “I would appreciate it if you could get me my ‘I hate early mornings mug’, I want to take it with me,” walking toward your bedroom you ignore Bucky follows you.

“What do you mean by taking it with you?” while you get two suitcases out, Bucky tries to make you talk to him. “Do you want to go on a mission? Why so many suitcases?”

“Oh, Stevie was busy to take a week off while I was worried about him,” you quip, opening your drawer to grab random clothes, tossing Steve’s onto the floor. “Imagine my surprise when I traced his phone only to find him with another Carter.”

“Sharon?” humming you neatly fold your clothes to place them into the first suitcase. “Did he-?”

“No, but I guess Steve is just not man enough to file for divorce to be with her,” glaring at Bucky you make your way back toward the wardrobe to grab more clothes. “While I tried to save our marriage, Steve sits in a café and allowed that woman touch his hand. He smiled at her Bucky. I didn’t get a smile from him for months.”

“Doll, you can’t just leave without talking to him,” Bucky tries to stop you, but you made up your mind. Before you met Steve, you were wild, feisty, and stubborn but he tamed you and your free spirit. “Wait, let me call him.”

“I tried to call him this morning and after I saw him with that woman,” slamming the first suitcase shut you glare at Bucky. “He didn’t answer. It was his last chance to explain things to me, Bucky. Now I’m done waiting for Steve to tell me it is over, we are over.”

“What’s that?” looking at a neatly folded letter on your bed Steve feels his chest tightening. Your wedding band lies abandoned on the letter, but you are nowhere to be found.

“She saw you with Sharon yesterday. I guess taking off a week to meet up with an old flame and ignoring your wife called you about ten times wasn’t the smartest plan,” Bucky shrugs. “I called you too.”

“I need time to figure things out,” Steve sits on the bed, pressing the wedding band in his hand to his chest. “We went through a rough patch and I didn’t know how to fix things between Y/N and me.”

“Not talking to her and getting all cozy with Sharon was a great idea,” gritting the words out Bucky watches his friend unfold the letter with shaking fingers. “Steve.”

“I-I just didn’t know if Y/N still wants me after I admitted that I was tempted to go back to Peggy. She was distant for a few weeks and then, she almost clang to me. As if Y/N tried to fake she forgave me,” reading the letter Steve sniffles silently. “Oh, god she wants to file for divorce.”

“What?” grasping for the letter Bucky reads the last lines you wrote.

‘As you aren’t man enough to tell me that you don’t love me anymore, I will tell you it’s over. You don’t have to be the bad guy, Captain. The papers will reach you soon. Have a great life with Sharon…’

“Do you know where she went, Bucky?” jumping up Steve looks for his keys, already grasping for his phone to call you back. “Buck!”

“She came here, packed two suitcases, and left. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t listen, Steve. I don’t think Y/N will call you back.”

“Then I’ll have to find her, no matter what…”

“A whole month!” Steve waltzes into your apartment, panting heavily. His hair longer again, a thick beard framing his face he wraps you in a hug. “I was so worried, doll. How could you just leave without a trace?”

“Didn’t think you would miss me, Steven,” using his full name on purpose, you smirk as Steve flinches. “I believed Sharon would soothe the pain and fill the tiny gap I left in your life.”

“Y/N,” mumbling your name Steve pecks your hair while his hands run up and down your back. “I swear, I’m not with Sharon and I don’t want her, doll. When you saw me with her, I gave her something Peggy left for me. It was the first step to give up my past.”

“You held hands, and you smiled at her, Steven. Don’t lie to me,” you push against his chest, try anything to break out of his embrace. “I’m not stupid nor blind.”

“She grasped for my hand as I gave her the medallion Peggy left me. I smiled as she thanked me, and we remembered the last days with Peggy. Y/N, please believe me there is nothing between me and Sharon,” Steve desperately tries to not let you slip out of his embrace, but you fight him with all your strength.

“That’s the reason you take a week off and instead of having dinner with me, you meet up with that woman. Your former girlfriend,” you growl, pushing against Steve’s chest. “I tried to fix us, and you just ran off.”

“I wanted to clear my mind,” Steve mumbles. “I was afraid you are still mad at me for admitting that I thought about going back in time for Peggy for a second. I’m bad at admitting my feelings. I was afraid to lose you and handled it the wrong way.”

“Pushing me away to keep me was a great plan,” you give up fighting Steve’s strength, hating he’s so much stronger than you are once again. “You hurt me and now you come here and want me to do what?”

“Please come home, doll,” pecking your forehead Steve mumbles apologies against your skin. “Your husband is an idiot when it comes to feelings. I love you, love you so much. We need to work on our marriage but please don’t give up on us.”

“Like you did months ago?” cursing under your breath you glare at Steve when he tries to kiss you. “Fixing things between us won’t be that easy, Steve. You hurt me with your behavior. If you want me to come back, you’ll have to do more than coming here and looking like the man I’ve missed.”

“I’ve missed you too, doll,” pecking your lips Steve slides his fingers through your hair. “Please come home and I’ll do anything you want me to do. Tell me how to fix us.”

“Maybe Bucky can give you advice,” you smirk, breaking out of Steve’s embrace to walk into your living room. “He’s a man who can talk with a woman.”

“When did Bucky talk to you? Doll?” while you check on your phone Steve starts to pace your living room. “Did he touch my girl?”

“Why would your best friend touch me, Stevie?” you coo. “I mean, Sharon only touched your hand, right. There is no reason for me to be mad. What if Bucky did the same or Tony? Maybe Sam hugged me a bit longer than necessary.”

“I will kill them,” Steve balls his hands into fists, stares daggers into the picture of you and the team. “Tell me who dared to touch my wife,” nostrils flaring, chest heaving up and down Steve points at the picture.

“See,” you walk toward your husband, placing your hand onto his heart before you meet his gaze. “That’s how I felt when you let that woman touch you. You gave her my smile while you ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you; it was just-“ sighing Steve hangs his head low. “I get it, doll and I’m sorry. If you give me a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve, I’ll try to do so every day from now on…”

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#Deafening Silence #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve x you #angst

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years ago

Text

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

I AM SO SORRY FOR WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ.

Happy Birthday @goddessofmischief03 I'M SORRY THIS IS YOUR PRESENT FROM ME!

Part 8

The pair of you drove for hours. Zemo didn't care about where you wanted to stop. All you had to do was say the word and he would pull over here and there. You had taken so many photos on your phone. Though a lot of them were just of him. Maybe you would get those printed and make an album. Maybe you were just getting carried away.

The evening rolled in. The wicked woman had texted you an hour ago to state what time she wanted to meet you. Zemo had dropped you off, kissing you before letting you go. He left to meet with Sam, hoping to get his forgotten car back home.

You entered the bar. It was pretty empty, finding her wasn't hard. Lucky for you, she was alone. You took a deep breath as you walked over to her table and sat down, but not even offering her a smile.

On the table right in front of her was a file. That scared you. Whatever this was about, she was serious. You tried to keep your emotions at bay as you sat still, hands in your lap. You stared at her.

She stared back.

"You came," she said, almost as if she expected you not to.

"Of course I did, I'm not a horrible person who stands people up. Even if I'm here for nonsense."

She narrows her eyes at you.

"Neither am I."

"You're right. You're just blind," you cross your arms over your chest and ignore the waiter who brings you each a glass of water.

"I'm not the blind one," she hisses after he leaves.

"No? What kind of sick game are you playing here? Tony Stark isn't in love with you. It's all a publicity stunt."

"It's not!"

"See? You're blind to the truth. You're being lured in by the fact you admire him. You have been a fan of racing much longer than I. You have seen Stark win over and over again, season after season. You're in love with the idea of dating a professional racer."

She looks pissed.

"It's all lies. You know nothing. I'll show you who that man really is. Chasing Zemo is a mistake. You'll regret ever knowing him after you learn the truth."

"What truth? What are you talking about?" You try to resist raising your voice.

"This!" She slams a hand over the file.

"What is it? What's in there?"

She hands the file to you. You take it, but don't yet open it. You stare at her. On the outside you look cold, calculating. On the inside, your heart is racing and a million thoughts are running through your head. You're freaking out.

"What had Helmut Zemo told you?" She asks, looking you in the eye.

"About what?"

"About him."

"Not a lot. He is wealthy. Has houses all around Europe, owns a large collection of cars that have been passed down through his family. He doesn't have a large racing background, but he is passionate about cars." You shrug, not knowing what else to say.

"So he didn't you he was a Baron? That his family was literally royalty before Sokovia surrendered in the war? He wasn't even in the county when it collapsed. That's why he doesn't talk about it. His family is dead."

"Why are you telling me this? I know about Sokovia, it was global news. A whole country destroyed in the crossfire. If you have any respect for the dead, you'll stop talking about his family that way," you say, glaring at her.

"I'm not done. Open the file."

You glare a moment longer before you open the file. You look down at the first page you're presented with.

"Who is that?"

There was a photo of a young man. Dirty blonde hair, tall, blue eyes, sweet smile.

"That's Pietro Maximoff," she tells you that name as if you should know who he is.

"Who is he?"

"Pietro Maximoff was a racer."

"Was?"

"He died." She reaches across the table and points to some information below his photo. You can't the words on the page.

Pietro Maximoff

Deceased

Died on impact

Cause: Car accident.

Speculation of foul play by the hands of Helmut Zemo. Car appeared to have been tampered with before hand. Witness testified to sighting of Zemo tampering with car. No solid evidence provided.

You stared at the words, letting them sink in. The woman across from you says nothing as you scan the ink before you.

You swallow.

"It says no evidence was provided."

"There doesn't need to be. He was seen."

"Why who?"

"No one knows. They remained anonymous," she shrugs lightly.

"What are you trying to tell me?" You look at her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your emotions.

"Baron Helmut Zemo killed Pietro Maximoff because Maximoff was his competition. Zemo has raced before, but his career was cut short after this. Unfortunately there was no actual proof to pin on him, the witness only had their statement. Maximoff was the next big racer and Zemo dealt with him."

You stand abruptly.

"No."

"Zemo is a murderer," she tells you.

"Stop, please."

"He didn't tell you any of this did he?"

"You're lying."

"All the evidence is in that folder."

The tears fall. You shake your head and try to control your breathing. She's lying. She has to be.

"Stark told me everything. He even provided the information."

You shake your head again.

"I don't believe it. Why are you doing this to me? Is this your sick way of getting back at me? This is cruel. This is so cruel."

"It's the truth. You won't find anything by looking up the Baron, but if you look up Pietro Maximoff you'll find the story. Zemo killed a man so he could win. What's stopping him from doing it again?"

"Are you implying he would kill Stark? Are you insane?" You almost yell.

"He has killed a man before. What's once more?" She asks, angrily hissing out the words.

"Please don't do this to me," you plead.

"Read it. Accept it. It's true. They might not have anything solid on him, but you know as well as I that it's true."

You shake your head a third time.

"Look at it. Read the articles." She moves the file on Pietro over and underneath is a newspaper article.

Racing star, Pietro Maximoff dies in horrific accident

Baron Helmut Zemo disqualified from racing season over foul play speculation.

Helmut Zemo to stand trial

Baron Zemo walks free

"He wasn't found guilty of anything."

"I said it doesn't matter! He did it. Everyone knows he did it."

"You can't just give around accusing people of murder," you his quietly. You had sat back down, not wanting anyone to see your rage.

"Open your eyes."

"You don't know him," you say, voice falling to defeat.

"You don't know Tony Stark."

"I know him better than you." You close the file. "Do not ever come at me with this. Unless you have hard evidence that Zemo was there and had done what he was accused of, I won't believe you."

"You say that now, but trust me. You're going to come around," she gathers the file and stands up.

You watch her storm away.

You bite your cheek as tears fall. Taking out your phone, you search up Pietro Maximoff.

Zemo's name popped up several times.

He really has been accused of killing this young man.

Why did your chest hurt so much?

Maybe you should have asked him earlier when the thought crossed your mind.

You continue to sit at that table, ordering a drink mindlessly when the waiter comes over. It's all you have.

You look at the photo of Pietro on your phone. He had to be in his early twenties. Probably the youngest racer you had come across so far.

You sit there for ages, slowing drinking.

Your phone then starts to ring. You stare at the name lighting up your screen.

Zemo👑

Did you dare answer?

Having spent too long trying to decide, it clicks off. You stare at the screen. It lights up a second time.

Zemo👑

He must be worried. Yet, looking at his name flashing up on screen, dread fills you. Yob your phone, leave money for the drink, and make your way out.

The cold air of the night feels sharp and bitter against your skin. When did it get so cold? Or was that just you?

There was no one out here.

You're not sure if you felt glad about that. Your phone rings again. You know he'll be coming to pick you up, especially if you don't answer his call.

You swipe the call button and hold the phone up to your ear.

"Y/N? Thank goodness, you were not picking up. I was worried something bad happened. I'm on my way to you now, are you alright?"

You listen to his worried words. You stand there wondering who it was you were actually talking to.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

There is panic to his voice.

"Zemo..."

"Y/N? What is it? What's happened?"

You just knew he was picking up the speed right now. He was going to do anything to get to you now.

"Have you been honest with me?"

"What do you mean? Of course I have."

Lies. He is lying. That little voice in the back of your mind is repeating that to you. Lies.

You begin to cry.

"Who is Pietro Maximoff?"

Silence.

"Zemo, who is Pietro Maximoff?"

"How do you know that name?"

"Who is he?"

More silence.

You sob into the phone. His silence was an answer. He knew who you were talking about and your mind spiraled out of control.

He's dangerous. Stark was right.

You hang up. You turn your gaze down the street and decide to walk. You needed air.

Zemo was losing his mind. That wicked woman! What had she told you? Why had she brought that up?

When he realised you had hung up, he put his foot down. He had to get to you. He had to explain, he had to tell you himself.

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't.

This is not how he had imagined his night to go. Suddenly, things were falling apart.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief

#zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years ago

Note

Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.

#short prompts #nie huaisang #lan wangji #wei wuixan #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #nmj is proud of his bb bro for standing up for what he believes in lol

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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FATWS One Shot #4 - Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Cursing, Implied PTSD, Mention of IED, Motorcycle Ride Without Helmets

Setting/Characters: Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sam’s therapy group, Lady at the Front Desk, Mentions of Peggy Carter and Riley

A/N: Here’s number 4! Like I said in the previous One Shot, I’m hoping to get TWS One Shots done today and tomorrow. Um, I don’t have a lot to say this time since I unloaded pretty much everything in the last One Shot. So, I guess that’s all!

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(PICTURE DOESN’T REPRESENT READER, JUST WHAT THE ART STEVE DREW LOOKS LIKE!)

“How is she?”

Steve nodded, taking the helmet he insisted on keeping for you in the compartment under his seat out and handing it over. What a hypocrite. “She’s fine. I guess. She…forgot. We were in the middle of a conversation and she…forgot I was alive.”

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alzheimer’s is a scary thing. I’m sorry. It must be hard seeing your best girl go through that.” He froze, his wide eyes scanning you. You ignored his gaze, giving him the helmet back. You really hoped it didn’t come out as sad and spiteful as you meant it. You didn’t want to despise her, you really didn’t. You couldn’t. You had too much respect for her. She did help build the organization you worked for. You just hated the position you found yourself in. “We’re just going to the VA. It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“No, honey. I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I won’t, Steve.” You pushed back. “I’ve done it before in a lot more dangerous places than the streets of DC. Plus, I trust you. You wouldn’t let me get hurt, would you?”

His lips turned up slightly, his head shaking just enough. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Hop on, then.” He jerked his head to his bike, putting the helmet away before sitting down with you following his lead. You pressed against him, an arm around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips lightly. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, setting your chin on his shoulder.

The bike roared to life underneath you before you took off. You were never worried when Steve drove. Sometimes he liked going fast when you two go for a drive through backroads of Virginia for a weekend, camping underneath the stars. But when you were in DC, he cruised, fast enough that you could get pulled over for doing ten over, but slow enough that you didn’t have to shout over the rush of the wind combing through your hair.

He usually talked to you while driving, but he was quiet this time. You turned your head to study him. His jaw ticked ever so often, his eyebrows furrowed and those pink lips turned down.

You didn’t want to distract him, but you couldn’t help but lift your free hand, tracing his jaw from his chin to his ear before pressing soft circles into the hinge of his jaw with your thumb. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No. No, you’re perfect, honey.” He reassured quickly, moving around a car, side eyeing you for just a second. “I’ve just…there’s a lot on my mind. A lot I need to figure out.”

You nodded. “If you ever need me. I’m here.”

He grinned, taking your hand in one of his to press a kiss to the knuckles, eyes not leaving the road. “I know.”

“Tell me more about this Sam Wilson guy.”

Steve chuckled before telling you about his run the day prior and how he lapped Wilson a few times and their conversation afterwards. He was just finishing up when he parked in the parking garage of the VA, “and then Natasha drove up saying she was looking for a fossil she was supposed to pick up.”

“A fossil.” You snorted. “I’m gonna have to use that.”

He gave you a playful glare as you swung your leg around and stood up. Catching your jaw between his fingers, he chuckled when he squished your cheeks together. “Call me a fossil, honey, and I’ll tell Fury the only way I’m doing missions is if you don’t.”

You gasped, shaking your head. “You ‘ouldn’!” You slurred out, trying to talk with your lips pursed.

He gave a little giggle, gently making your head move up and down in a nod. “Oh yes I would.” He pecked your nose, letting go of your cheeks. “C’mon, dame.” You blinked after him as he started towards the elevators with long strides.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder as you jogged to catch up, holding his hand out behind him. “C’mon. You know I’d never do that to ya.”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched his hand and huffed. “Well…yeah. But still.”

Another chuckle left his lips, pulling you closer to his side as you pressed the button for the elevator, leaving a kiss on your head. You fell into comfortable silence after that, Steve’s thumb tracing patterns on your hand while you waited for the elevator to ding.

When it finally did, Steve had a pen pulled out and, as you entered the elevator, he pulled your hand up closer to his face, lifting the writing utensil to the back of your palm.

You didn’t say anything, merely looking around the elevator after pushing the level you were going to. It was something you found that calmed Steve; drawing. So whenever he was bored or anxious, you let him draw on your hand. He used to ask, but he stopped after you told him you’d never say no.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, causing Steve to stop inking up your skin and drop your still linked hands down to your sides, shoving his pen in his pocket. You looked down at the partial flower and leaves wrapping around your wrist, smiling affectionately. He really was a good artist.

The lady at the front desk told you where to go when you asked for Sam Wilson, which Steve did rather eagerly, making you laugh. He had told you about Sam’s want to impress her when he came in. Apparently he was with a group, but she said it was okay for you to go in as long as you didn’t disrupt anything. Steve thanked her, before following her directions down the hall and around the corner.

You heard them before you saw them. A woman was talking, telling a story of how she got pulled over the previous week. Steve leaned against a column to the side of the room, out of the way, putting his hands in his pockets. You let his hand go to allow him to do so, linking your arm with his and holding his wrist with your free hand.

“I swerved…to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

You watched Steve’s reactions through the rest of the session. It wasn’t much longer - maybe ten minutes - before it ended. You had tried to convince him to go to one of these when he first got out of the ice, but he refused.

“I’ve already got you, honey. That’s all I need.”

And, yes, he did have you; your assignment was literally helping him with that stuff. But you still thought he’d benefit from it. Especially now since you had started going back on your own assignments. Maybe he’d start going to Wilson’s.

After the meeting, you and Steve walked up to the veteran who had just finished his farewells and started cleaning up the table at the front with brochures and things. “Look who it is. The running man. And who’s this pretty lady?”

You smiled, sticking out your hand, your name leaving your lips in an introduction. “Sam Wilson.” He shook your hand with a grin of his own. “Nice to meet you, cher.”

“You too, Sam.”

“We caught the last few minutes.” Steve stated, leaning on the wall again, keeping his arm linked with yours. “It’s pretty intense.”

You listened sadly as Sam told you two about his wingman, Riley, but you didn’t pity him. You knew what it was like to lose people and you hated the pity you received from others. You were glad to see he wasn’t beating himself up over it, even allowing himself to smile as the conversation shifted to his retirement. Steve was right; he did seem like a good guy.

“Are you thinking about getting out?”

You glanced up at Steve as he answered “no.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes that flickered to you, before he met Sam’s again. “I don’t know.” Hearing Steve admit that he didn’t know what he wanted made your heartache. You wanted him to be happy, and the fact that he didn’t know what made him happy caused you to grip his arm tighter.

You, Sam, and Steve talked a bit longer, getting to know each other a little better. You even did the unthinkable and told him you worked for SHIELD when he asked how you two knew each other. Steve raised an amused eyebrow as your eyes widened, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t tell anyone.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

You finally said bye when Sam mentioned needing to get back to work. Walking back towards the elevators, Steve chuckled and nudged you. “You warmed up to him quickly.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your face landing in your hands. “Oh my God. I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

“I told you. He’s a good person. Easy to talk to.”

“Yeah…speaking of,” you tilted your head up to him as you stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. “Do you want to get out?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said. I just…I don’t really know…what to do.”

You pouted a little, tilting your head. “What would you’ve done in the 40’s? After the war?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled on his feet. “Be a lab rat.”

“Steven-”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “Please don’t.” He said softly, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one thumb smoothing out your forehead while the other ran over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m not. I, just…worry.”

He placed his lips to your forehead, hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer. “Well don’t.”

Your hands mimicked his previous position, holding his face, thumb brushing under his eyes. Your eyes caught sight of the barely started design on your hand, and your lips pursed thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Drawing makes you happy.” He blinked at your words, confusion in those ocean eyes of his. “You said you don’t know what makes you happy. Drawing does. And you’re really good at it. You could be an artist or something. Like a tattoo artist. I’d go to you. I mean, look at this!” You showed him your hand. “It’s not even halfway done and you did it with a crappy dollar store pen”

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate that, honey, but I don’t think I could do that day in and day out.”

“Even with new customers coming in every day, asking for different designs in different places?”

Giving a chuckle, he leaned into your palm, kissing it. “You really want me to think about this don’t you?”

You scoffed. “Duh!”

He shook his head, ducking down to press his lips to your cheek, before laying his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m okay right now.”

“Are you?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, arms wrapping around you. “Because I have you. And you make me happy, honey.”

You hugged him back, face pressing into his neck. You were glad you made him happy. And as long as you made him happy, you’d keep this relationship the way it was. Even if that meant you’d never be his best girl. “You make me happy too, bubs.”

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

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#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 4 #fatws series #best girls good guys hand art joy rides oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Bundle of joy [Sirius Black x Reader] ['What they call home' OS] - Requested

Title: Bundle of joy Pairing: Sirius Black x Lestrange!Female!Reader Word count: 1.4k Published: 9 May, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: When you realise there’s a little baby growing in your belly, it terrifies you. Both you and Sirius had a rough childhood and now that there’s a new life inside you, your ability to raise a child concerns you, especially as you’re in the middle of a war. Notes: Part of the series What they call home, but can be read separately. Request: [x] by Anonymous

"Because I love Drama and the Lestrange X Sirius so much - Could you do an extra OS where Lestrange tells him that she is pregnant? Before that she is very distant (Generally afraid of the pregnancy and afraid of becoming like her parents as a mother) and often met a healer from the Order to ask what she is allowed to do/ not to do. 😊 (Of course only if you have time to do it)"

Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes

Square filled: Fix it fic

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

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It’s been 2 weeks. 2 whole weeks since you found out. 14 days exactly. 336 hours, 20160 minutes, 1209600 seconds. However you kept calculating, it still felt like forever. There was no doubt, no way to avoid the inevitable. As you walked out of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, you were trying to grasp the idea of having a tiny human growing in your belly. A life that you were to nurture for the next 7 months within you. You were supposed to be happy, full of life, planning creative ways to tell all your loved ones. But how could you. The only thoughts that came to you were anything but positive. Your parents made your life a living hell, your bothers were death eaters and as difficult it was to admit it, you were one of them, even though you didn’t agree with their views.

How were you supposed to raise a child when the only examples you have been taught were how to hate? How were you to raise a child when you didn’t even know how to hold one? But most of all, how were you to tell Sirius, the man who meant more to you than anyone in your life? Children or family for that matter never came up in your conversations. You just couldn’t imagine walking up to him, stating your findings as simple facts. The man would have gotten a heart attack.

You were seated in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with a steaming cup of tea in one hand and an enchanted polaroid photo of a tiny smudge that barely even resembled a baby just yet. You jumped in your seat as you heard the entrance door open and quickly hid the photo in your pocket. It wasn’t the right time, you weren’t ready to tell him just yet.

Sirius walked towards the kitchen, halting in the doorway, peeking in the room to catch a sight of you. “Hello, love,” he called with a soft smile across his face. As he approached you, his steps felt heavy and uncertain. But it was no surprise to you. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked as he stepped beside you and hinted a small kiss on the top of your hair, but once again, just like you have done many times before, you pulled away from him.

“I’m— I’m good,” you replied with a faux smile, trying to stop him from worrying, but you knew he realised your distant behaviour. He kneeled beside your chair, getting hold of your hands, holding them gently, drawing little circles on your knuckles.

“I know something is wrong. I know you are trying to hide something. If you are not ready to tell me, that is fine, but please don’t lie to me,” he pleaded with you as he left a small kiss on the back of your hand, reassuring you that he was ready to wait for you to open up.

“I just need you to give me a bit more time,” you whispered, your breath shaky and uncertain as you squeezed Sirius’ hands.

“As long as you need,” he offered you a sweet and genuine smile as he let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks, kissing you on your lips. His mere touch always made you feel safe, as though nothing could ever hurt you. But you knew in that moment that you were more afraid than ever.

“I wish that was true,” you sighed heavily, averting your eyes. “I’m scared, Sirius,” you exhaled, leaning forward and placing your forehead in the crook of his neck.

“Love, what are you afraid of?” He asked in confusion, running his hand through the back of your hair, trying to sooth your worries.

“Will I be like them?” You asked, earning a questioning humming sound from Sirius. “Like my parents. Will I be as horrible as them? I’m their blood after all,” you heaved a heavy sigh, your breath hitching as tears started escaping down your cheeks, soaking Sirius’ thick coat.

“Where is this coming from?” He asked, stunned. “You are nothing like your parents or your brothers. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, both inside and out. And if you don’t believe me, ask yourself, have I ever lied to you? As far as I’m concerned, I have not. You are nothing like your family. Can you please tell me where all this is coming from? You are making me really worried,” he pleaded with you as he hinted a small kiss on your temple.

“Do you really think I’m nothing like them?” You asked as you leaned back to look into his smoky eyes, needing reassurance.

“Anything but, love,” he replied with a soft smile, hoping to cheer you up, earning a small smile from you.

“Sirius— erm, I was thinking— what do you think about children?” You tried to bring up the subject as softly as you could. If you could, you could have delayed the inevitable, but as he kneeled in front of you with a worried look across his face, you knew you couldn’t leave him in the dark any longer.

“Children?” He asked with a deep frown across his brows, your question catching him off guard. “I like them, I guess. I mean I have a really good relationship with Harry, Ron and Hermione and it seems little Teddy likes me too,” he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“And what do you think about having your own child?” You questioned, feeling your heart took on a faster pace, your palms sweating in your nervous state.

His eyes widened, your question surprising him. “What— what do you mean?” He asked stuttering, but you just bit on your lower lip and let your head fall forward whilst playing with your fingers. “Hold on a minute, do you mean— as in you and me— are we going to be parents?” He asked with a shocked expression, lips widely parted, eyes growing round. You weren’t sure what to say, how to say it or what would be the right words to use, so instead you nodded. “Is there going to be a little you and me— a miniature us running around?” He repeated as if needing further reassurance, he didn’t misinterpret your gesture.

“Yes— there is going to be a little one running around in approximately 7 months,” you replied with an awkward smile as you placed your hand on your belly, with the other reaching for the photo in your pocket. He took it from you, his face turning pale for a second, realisation hitting him hard, before his lips started curving up into a small smile.

“That— that is absolutely brilliant,” he began to chuckle as a wide grin spread across his face. “Just imagine what a handful he or she is going to be,” he laughed.

“Are you not afraid?” You asked.

“Of what exactly?” He furrowed his brows.

“Of us not being good parents? We are both from families that do not have a good record in providing a loving home,” you voiced your concerns.

“Not at all,” he smiled proudly. “If anything, we know best what we were missing and what we would like to do for that little one. We can use the lack of love we had as an advantage, because now we know how important it is for a child to be brought up in a healthy, loving family,” he took your hand in his, gently squeezing it.

“But Sirius, we are in the middle of a war,” you retorted, still unsure of your ability of bringing up a child.

“We are in the middle of a war now and we were in the middle of a war over a decade ago. You can’t stop the circle of life because of evil people. Don’t think about all the negativities. Think about the fact that I love you, you love me, and we will have a beautiful bundle of joy who we will love just as much,” a content smile spread across Sirius’ face. “At least little Teddy will have a playmate,” he chuckled playfully as he pulled you up into a standing position and sneaked his arms around your waist. “I love you and I already love that little ankle-biter more than anything,” he whispered into your ear.

“I have no idea how I got to be so lucky to have you,” you replied with tears filling up your eyes.

“Those better be happy tears,” he raised a questioning brow, his foolish smile still plastered across his face.

“Only,” you chuckled as you cupped his face and pulled him down to meet your lips halfway. “I love you so much,” you breathed against his lips, before you closed the gap between the two of you once again.

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