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girlwithadragonheart · 2 days ago

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Chapter 10 - Churros and Cioccolata Calda

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: The gods are capturing Dalish as sacrifices. It's Kalais's job to stop them. Lucanis makes dessert just for her.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, tension

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!

Chapter 9 DATV Masterlist Chapter 11

Lucanis wasn’t one for words, but the way he looked at me now spoke volumes. There was something unspoken in the way his eyes lingered on mine---heavy with gratitude, guilt, and something I couldn’t quite place. I tried not to let it get to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it meant.

He had returned the embrace, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. It was brief, just a moment, but the memory of it still sat on my chest like a live coal. The warmth of it, the weight of his arm, the way he’d held on just long enough to let me feel it. It wasn’t a dismissal, but it wasn’t a promise, either. It was… Lucanis. Complicated and restrained, a man who didn’t let anyone close without a fight.

I should have left it at that. I should have let him process whatever he needed to and kept my distance until he was ready. But I wasn’t built for waiting, and I wasn’t about to let him shut me out again.

I caught up to him as we walked through Dock Town back to the Eluvian, slipping my arm through his. “You’re quiet,” I said, falling into step beside him.

He bent his arm slightly, instinctively, as my hand fell into the crook of his elbow. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced down at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m thinking,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Dangerous habit,” I teased, hoping to ease whatever weight was pressing on him.

He huffed a soft laugh, more exhale than sound, and for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched like he might actually smile. “You could say that.”

We walked in silence for a while, the quiet between us thick with things unsaid. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he meant it when he said he was ready. I wanted to tell him how much it had scared me to see him like that, lost in his own mind, unreachable. But the words tangled up in my throat, and I couldn’t find a way to say them without breaking whatever fragile truce we’d found in the aftermath of the Fade.

Instead, I said, “Don’t do that to me again.”

Lucanis stopped walking, turning slightly to face me with an expression that made my chest tighten. “Kalais…” he started, then trailed off, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have---”

“Don't,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t have done. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” I said, softer now. “I already did.”

His eyes widened slightly, the words clearly catching him off guard. I pressed on before he could recover. “Seeing you like that, Lucanis… it hurt. I couldn’t stand it. And I’ll do it again if I have to, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He looked at me for a long time, his expression shifting through a dozen emotions I couldn’t quite name. Finally, he said, “You’re impossible.”

I smiled, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, I thought he might say more, but then he turned and started walking again. I followed, keeping my hand in his arm, letting the silence settle between us. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t cold, either. It felt like progress.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t quite breathe. “You won’t,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Not if I can help it.”

He glanced at me then, just for a moment, but it was enough. There was something in his eyes---something raw and unguarded---that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we’d finally started to understand each other.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.

—------------------

Taash, Lucanis, and I met up with Strife and Irelin at the Veil Jumper camp. They had been having some trouble with the Venatori, and we were going to investigate and deal with the issue for them. At least, what we could.

As we were dealing with them, we followed a trail back to some old ruins. A Veil Jumper there told us the Venatori were rounding up Dalish. I told him to report back to Strife, and we would handle it from here.

The closer we got, I started hearing their screams. The Dalish.

We’re coming, guys… I promise. There were about a dozen Venatori swarming another Dalish camp. They had them locked behind magical wards. When we finally freed them, they told me that the Venatori were rounding up the Dalish for sacrifice to the Gods. I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed and enraged.

The Veil Jumpers were going to meet us at the Lighthouse to discuss a rescue mission plan.

We decided to scope out the crater before starting anything. But when we met there, we ended up putting disguises on. Neve would lead us as one of the Venatori and Lucanis and I would be her entourage.

As we moved, I could hear Elgar’nan in my head trying to whisper pretty words and promises. He said he could feel the sorrow etched in my bones. A lost child born into obscurity. And that he would be my salvation. His voice was a loving purr in my ear, drawing me in.

I was tired. So, so tired of fighting.

He knew it. I knew. It would’ve been so easy to give in.

But then I glanced at Lucanis and remembered I had something worth fighting for.

We reached the place he was giving his speech, some kind of blood magic influencing our minds. His Archdemon rose behind him, bigger than a fucking mountain.

It would’ve been so, so easy. All we had to do was worship, obey, love, and kneel. Somewhere outside my consciousness, I could feel Neve and Bellara working on his enchantment. Elgar’nan would notice someone breaking his old. We had to go, now.

We would only be able to handle so much. We needed to get in, get the Dalish out, and run like hell.

On top of fighting a million Venatori, they also had machines running on blood magic trying to kill us. And somehow, on top of all of that, we ended up in the fucking Fade.

After running through the same goddamn area for what felt like forever, I heard Solas speaking to me—something he had only been able to do in my dreams. He said he would be able to offer some assistance in distracting Elgar’nan. I soon found out what he meant as he shouted at the Evanuris in elvish.

With Solas distracting him, his attention was divided, and we managed to slip out of his trap. After a few more close run-ins with the Venatori, we made it to where the Dalish were being kept. I brought down the wards, letting them out. Solas led us back to his safehouse where we could escape back to the Lighthouse via the Crossroads.

When we regrouped at the Lighthouse, Strife thanked me for the help. He said Elgar’nan sacrificed the Venatori as a punishment for their failures. Those who escaped scurried back to Tevinter. Tomorrow, we would have to worry about another Archdemon. But for now, my stomach was calling me.

—------------------

I wandered into the dining room, drawn by the warm, savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. My steps slowed as I spotted Lucanis standing over a counter scattered with ingredients—piles of chopped vegetables, glistening pans, and a dusting of flour that had clearly missed its mark. He was focused, turning something over in his hands with surprising delicacy, but the moment he noticed me, he set it down and stepped toward me, wiping his flour-covered hands absentmindedly on his usually pristine shirt.

“Oh great, is it your turn to cook? What’s all this going to be?” I asked.

“Paella,” he replied, his tone casual, though a flicker of pride showed in his eyes. “Two of them. One without seafood for Emmrich.” He paused, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “And churros for dessert. They pair well with cioccolata calda.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait… Did you make dessert just for me?” My lips curved into a soft smile, warmth blooming in my chest at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“There’s enough for everyone,” he said carefully, as if hedging against the weight of my reaction.

“As long as they don’t mind having it with my favorite drink,” I countered, my smile widening.

“They won’t complain,” he replied with a shrug, but his voice held a distinct note of satisfaction.

My heart squeezed, and I found myself shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do anything special for me,” I said, though my voice betrayed me, laced with gratitude.

“Yes, I did,” he said quickly, his voice firm. His gaze met mine, unwavering. “I still don’t know how to apologize for… everything. And you…” He stopped, searching for words, his brow furrowing in frustration.

I cut him off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “You made dessert! Just for me!” I repeated, letting the words roll off my tongue with deliberate slowness, as though trying to savor them as much as I knew I’d savor the churros later. My heart felt like it was melting, spreading that unfamiliar, gooey warmth through my chest and down to my stomach.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “Or not enough.”

“It is,” I said firmly, daring to place a hand on his flour-dusted forearm. “And you are.”

For a moment, we simply stood there, the hum of the kitchen filling the quiet.

“And I’ll have you know,” I added, grinning now to lighten the mood, “I’m very easily bribed.”

He smirked, that slow, crooked smile I’d come to recognize as his version of letting his guard down. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he said.

I watched him for a moment longer, the light from the stove casting a golden glow across his sharp features. This man—who guarded his emotions so fiercely, who carried burdens he rarely shared—had gone out of his way to do something so undeniably kind. For me.

Without fully thinking it through, I closed the space between us.

“Kalais?” he said, his voice low and hesitant.

I reached up, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead and felt the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. “You’re a good man, Lucanis,” I said softly, not quite sure where the words were coming from, but knowing, somehow, that they were true.

His eyes flicked to mine, a storm of emotion swirling in their dark depths—uncertainty, hope, fear, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

Before I could lose my nerve, I smoothed my hand over his hair, cupped the back of his head and dragged him down to me. Our lips met only briefly before I pulled back, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He looked at me, brown eyes wide with surprise and something else I couldn’t name before his flour-covered hands were pulling my hips into him, crushing his lips to mine like a man starved.

The world seemed to pause around us. His hands slid to my waist, holding me gently like something to be cherished. When he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, I felt my knees weaken. My hands roamed over his shoulders to run my fingers through his hair.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly of cinnamon and sugar, and I couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. I could feel his hesitation ebbing, replaced by something more certain, more real.

When we finally broke apart, my heart was racing, and I knew my cheeks were flushed. He looked at me like I’d just done something impossible, his breath hitching slightly as his thumb brushed against my side.

“I should make dessert more often,” he said, his voice rough but teasing.

I laughed, resting my forehead against his. “Don’t push your luck,” I murmured, though my smile gave me away.

Lucanis chuckled softly, his breath fanning against my skin as his hands lingered on my waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of my shirt, grounding me in the moment. For someone who often seemed so untouchable, his presence now felt impossibly close, intimate in a way that made my pulse race.

“Still,” he said, his voice low, “if dessert gets this kind of reaction, I might have to find a few more recipes to try.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching with amusement. “Is that your way of saying you want to bribe me again?”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Depends. Did it work the first time?”

I laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, and shook my head. “You tell me, master chef. But fair warning, I might expect something equally thoughtful next time.”

“Next time,” he echoed, his voice softening as the teasing edge faded. His gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to blur. The golden light of the kitchen, the faint sounds of the others in the house, the lingering smell of cinnamon and spices—it all fell away, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, stolen moment.

I reached up again, brushing my fingers through his beard lightly. “Lucanis,” I began, my voice barely over a whisper.

“Kalais,” he interrupted, his hand sliding up my side to rest just below my ribs. There was a weight to his touch, a silent question in the way his thumb traced gentle circles over the fabric of my shirt. “Thank you. For… staying. For not giving up on me when you probably should have.”

“Should have?” I repeated, frowning slightly. “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do when it comes to you.”

His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile, but his eyes were serious. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” I said, leaning closer, letting my words settle between us like a promise. “At least for me.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly, and I couldn’t resist closing the distance once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. His lips met mine with a quiet intensity, and the warmth I felt earlier now spread through me like fire.

Time seemed to slip away as we kissed, a slow, unhurried dance that spoke of things neither of us was ready or able to put into words. When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“You know,” I said, my voice teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to burn the paella.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded, and pulled me into one last brief, tender kiss before stepping back. “I guess we wouldn’t want to ruin dinner,” he said, his smirk returning. “But don’t think for a second I’m done with you, Kalais.”

My face flushed. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my heart still racing as I turned to sit at the table, the warmth of his gaze following me the whole way.

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A/N: Duuuude I'm so psyched for the next parts

As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for Lucanis or this series :) <3

Tag List: @encrytpta

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isthehorsevideocute · 5 months ago

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If I see one more walk/trot adult ammy fly around the country/go overseas to go horse shopping I'm going to have a fucking aneurysm.....

#If you are a rider who can not physically do intense riding you need an older steadier trail horse not an imported 5yr old warmblood #And I'm sick and tired of seeing it #I've worked with some lovely western bred horses and gaited horses that these rich fucks won't ever consider because they aren't 'fancy'#Like Karen if you get jostled around too much your days of riding are literally over because your bones can't take it #You don't need to be sitting on the Ferrari of horses #Not only do you not need it you shouldn't have it because unlike your husband's midlife crisis mobile this thing will put you in the #Hospital when you inevitably fall off #Meanwhile I'm the one riding the 'unsellable' 14 year old 17 hand mare that no one would buy because those are all no's on most peoples iso #Its always 'no mares' 'nothing over 10' 'no past injuries' 'must be under 17 hands'#But at the same time it also has to have seen everything never spook and be able to do anything your fucking heart desires #I actually don't think the horse market is fucked I just think a) people have completely unrealistic expectations and b)no one wants to #Put in the work to actually keep a horse sane and sound #Don't want to jinx it but both of my teenage horses who have had past injuries have been major injury free for the past several years while #The same horses go lame over and over or the same owners keep having horses go lame when they buy horse after horse

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purkinje-effect · 1 year ago

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thesis: mezzanine lights as underlit tables

conclusion: this idea is grandma approved

#fallout 76 #i thought they were an upcoming atomic shop when i saw them listed as a camp item somewhere... i'm so happy rn #in other: guess who discovered the headache and wonderment of foundation merge glitch #i need to get a steadier hand for it. but in my heart this is a promising start

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Pride and Prejudice and Bullets

mafia boss!Max Verstappen x professor!Reader

Summary: your life is predictable — revolving around teaching about Jane Austen novels and grading term papers — and you like it that way … until an old classmate makes a sudden appearance that turns everything upside down

Warnings: minor character death

The sharp rap at the door jolts you from your late-night reading. You glance at the clock — 2:37 AM. Who could it possibly be at this ungodly hour?

Cautiously, you approach the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skips a beat. Is that ... no, it couldn’t be. But as you swing the door open, there he stands — the boy who vanished from your high school without a trace nearly a decade ago.

“Max?” You breathe, scarcely believing your eyes.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes past you into the apartment, one hand pressed firmly against his side. As he moves, you catch a glimpse of crimson seeping through his fingers, staining what looks like an absurdly expensive shirt.

“Jesus, Max, what happened to you?” You gasp, instinctively reaching out.

He flinches away from your touch, his eyes wild. “I hear you’re a doctor now. Do your doctor stuff,” Max barks the order at you, his voice rough with pain.

You blink, momentarily stunned. “I’m a doctor of British Literature! What are you even doing here? How do you know my address? Why are you here?”

“Needed a doctor, you’re a doctor,” he grunts, stumbling toward your couch.

The reality of the situation starts to sink in. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I need to call an ambulance.”

“No,” Max snaps, his tone brooking no argument. “Don’t. Are you stupid? I’m here because I can’t go to a hospital.”

Your mind races, torn between concern and confusion. “Yes, right, fuck, I should call the cops. Why do you know my address?”

“Wound. Fix it,” he growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Wound. Uhhhh, take off your shirt?” You stammer, fumbling for your phone. “I need to Google this- oh my god that’s disgusting, oh fuck, is the bullet still in there?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

“Of course I don’t!” You exclaim, your voice rising in pitch. “I write papers on Jane Austen, not ... whatever this is!”

He groans, both from pain and exasperation. “Fine. First aid kit. You have one?”

You nod frantically, dashing to the bathroom. When you return, Max has managed to unbutton his shirt, revealing a nasty wound just below his ribs.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steadier now. “Antiseptic. Clean the wound.”

With shaking hands, you do as he instructs, trying not to gag at the sight of so much blood. “Max, please, what’s going on? How did this happen?”

He ignores your questions. “Tweezers. The bullet’s still in there. You need to get it out.”

“What? No! I can’t — I’ll hurt you!”

A humorless laugh escapes him. “Trust me, it already hurts. Just do it.”

Swallowing hard, you position the tweezers. Max’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist. “Wait,” he says, fumbling in his pocket with his free hand. He produces a flask, takes a long swig, then nods. “Okay. Go.”

You take a deep breath and plunge in. Max’s entire body goes rigid, a string of curses flowing from his lips that would make a sailor blush. After what feels like an eternity, you feel the tweezers catch on something.

“I think I’ve got it,” you whisper.

“Then pull it out,” Max hisses.

With a sickening squelch, you extract the bullet. Max lets out a strangled groan, then goes limp.

“Max?” You say, panic rising in your throat. “Max!”

His eyes flutter open. “I’m fine. Just ... give me a minute.”

As you clean and dress the wound, a tense silence falls between you. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you speak. “Max, please. What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in years, and now you show up at my door in the middle of the night with a bullet wound?”

He sighs, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “It’s ... complicated.”

“No shit,” you retort. “Start talking. Now.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the movement. “After I left school, I got mixed up in some ... stuff. Bad stuff. It was supposed to be temporary, just a way to make some quick cash. But things ... escalated.”

“Escalated how?” You press.

He meets your gaze, his eyes hard. “You really want to know?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I run the Dutch Crime Syndicate now,” he says flatly.

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a high, slightly hysterical sound. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate? Are you serious? That sounds like something out of a bad movie.”

“Does this look like a joke to you?” Max gestures to his wound.

The laughter dies in your throat. “Oh god. You’re serious.”

He nods grimly. “Dead serious. And now you know why I couldn’t go to a hospital. Too many questions.”

“But ... why me?” You ask, still struggling to process this information. “We were barely even friends in school.”

Max shifts uncomfortably. “I ... kept tabs on people from back then. When I heard you’d become a doctor-”

“A doctor of literature,” you interject.

He rolls his eyes. “When I heard you had become a ‘doctor,’ I made a note of it. Just in case. Never thought I’d actually need to use that information, but ... here we are.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “This is insane. You’re insane. I should be calling the police right now.”

“But you won’t,” Max says quietly.

“And why’s that?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he arrived. “Because you’re curious. Because part of you, whether you want to admit it or not, is excited by this. By me showing up and shaking up your nice, safe, predictable life.”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not entirely wrong.

“So what happens now?” You ask instead.

Max shrugs, then immediately regrets it, judging by his wince. “Now, I rest for a bit, then I leave. And you go back to your life of Jane Austen and tea cozies.”

“That’s it?” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting? That I’d sweep you off your feet and into a life of crime?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly. Too quickly.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, Y/N.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shut up. You’re delirious from blood loss.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Or maybe I’m seeing clearly for the first time in years.”

There’s a charged moment of silence between you. Then Max groans, breaking the spell. “God, I sound like a bad romance novel. Must be the whiskey talking.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Well, you did show up bleeding on my doorstep in the middle of the night. It’s all very dramatic.”

“What can I say? I aim to please,” Max quips, then turns serious. “Look, Y/N ... thank you. For helping me. For not calling the cops. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you probably don’t,” you agree. “But ... I’m glad you came. As crazy as this all is, it’s ... nice to see you again.”

Max’s expression softens. “Yeah. It’s nice to see you too.”

Another silence falls, but this one is comfortable, almost companionable. Finally, Max speaks again. “I should go. I’ve already put you in enough danger.”

“Wait,” you say, surprising yourself. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. At least stay until morning.”

He hesitates, clearly torn. “I shouldn’t ...”

“Please,” you insist. “For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

Max searches your face, then nods slowly. “Okay. But just until morning.”

As you help him settle more comfortably on the couch, you can’t shake the feeling that your life has just irrevocably changed. For better or worse remains to be seen, but one thing’s for certain — it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through your curtains, rousing you from a fitful sleep. For a blissful moment, you forget the events of last night. Then reality comes crashing back, and you bolt upright in bed.

Max. The wound. The Dutch Crime Syndicate.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. What were you thinking? In the harsh light of day, the whole situation seems utterly insane.

Steeling yourself, you pad out to the living room. Max is still there, sprawled on your couch, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looks younger in sleep, almost vulnerable. It’s hard to reconcile this image with the hardened criminal he claims to be.

As if sensing your presence, Max’s eyes flutter open. He winces as he tries to sit up.

“Morning,” he grunts.

“How’s the wound?” You ask, your voice carefully neutral.

Max prods at his side gingerly. “Better than it has any right to be, thanks to you.”

You nod, then take a deep breath. “Max, about last night ...”

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. “I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you agree, relief washing over you. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about this. But I think it’s best if we just ... pretend this never happened. You should go, and we should forget we ever saw each other again.”

Max nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you say firmly, trying to ignore the small part of you that’s screaming in protest.

He starts to gather his things, moving stiffly. You turn away, heading to the kitchen to make coffee, needing something to do with your hands.

That’s when you hear it. The sharp crack of a gunshot, followed by the tinkling of shattered glass.

You freeze, your heart pounding. “Max?” You call out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Get down!” He shouts back. You drop to the floor just as another bullet whizzes overhead, embedding itself in your kitchen cabinets.

Max is at your side in an instant, his earlier stiffness forgotten. “We need to move. Now.”

“What’s happening?” You ask, your voice shaking.

“Rivals,” Max says grimly. “They must have followed me here. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to put you in danger.”

Before you can respond, there’s a thunderous banging at your front door. “Open up!” A gruff voice shouts. “We know you’re in there, Max Emilian!”

Max’s face hardens. “The Silver Arrows,” he mutters. “Persistent bastards.”

“What do we do?” You whisper, panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Max’s eyes dart around the room, assessing. “Is there a fire escape?”

You nod. “Through the bedroom window.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice calm and authoritative. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to make a run for it. Stay low, stay behind me. Got it?”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak.

“On my count,” Max says. “Three ... two ... one ... GO!”

You scramble to your feet, keeping low as Max leads the way to your bedroom. The banging on the door intensifies, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood.

“They’re breaking through!” You gasp.

“Almost there,” Max says through gritted teeth. He throws open your bedroom window, then turns to you. “Ladies first.”

You hesitate for a split second, then clamber out onto the fire escape. The metal is cold beneath your bare feet, and you realize with a start that you’re still in your pajamas.

Max follows close behind, pulling the window shut just as you hear your front door give way.

“Down,” he hisses, guiding you towards the ladder.

You descend as quickly as you can, your hands shaking so badly you nearly lose your grip more than once. Max is right behind you, his presence oddly reassuring despite the circumstances.

As your feet hit the alley below, you hear shouts from above. “There they are!”

“Run!” Max yells, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

You sprint down the alley, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. Bullets ping off the walls around you, and you let out an involuntary scream.

“Keep going,” Max urges. “There’s a car around the corner.”

“A car?” You pant. “How do you know?”

“I always have an exit strategy,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice despite the situation.

Sure enough, as you round the corner, you see a sleek black car idling at the curb. A man in a dark suit is behind the wheel, looking tense.

“Get in!” Max shouts, practically shoving you into the backseat before diving in after you.

The car peels away from the curb before Max even has the door closed. You’re thrown back against the seat as the driver weaves through traffic at breakneck speed.

“What the hell, Max?” You finally manage to say, your heart still racing. “Who were those people? Where are we going?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, looking more rattled than you’ve seen him yet. “Those were the Silver Arrows. They’ve been trying to muscle in on our territory for months. As for where we’re going ...” He exchanges a look with the driver in the rearview mirror. “Somewhere safe. For now.”

You let out a hysterical laugh. “Safe? I don’t even know what that word means anymore. My apartment just got shot up! I’m in my pajamas in the back of a strange car, running from a gang war. This is insane!”

“I know,” Max says softly. “And I’m sorry. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by leaving last night.”

“Well, bang-up job on that one,” you snap.

The driver clears his throat. “Boss, we’ve got a tail. Two cars, about three blocks back.”

Max curses under his breath. “Can you lose them, Daniel?”

The driver — Daniel, apparently — nods grimly. “I can try. Hang on.”

The car suddenly swerves, cutting across three lanes of traffic. Horns blare as Daniel takes a sharp right turn, tires squealing.

You’re thrown against Max, who instinctively wraps an arm around you to keep you steady. Despite everything, you can’t help but notice how solid he feels, how good he smells ...

No. Focus. You shake your head, trying to clear it.

“Max,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I need you to be straight with me. What exactly is going on here?”

He sighs, his arm still around you. “It’s complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” you demand.

Max is quiet for a moment, seemingly weighing his words. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate ... we’re not just petty criminals. We’re big. International. And lately, we’ve been expanding our reach. The Silver Arrows don’t like that. They think we’re encroaching on their territory.”

“And are you?” You ask.

A ghost of a smile flits across Max’s face. “Maybe a little. But business is business, you know?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re talking about illegal activities like it’s a corporate takeover!”

“In a way, it is,” Max says. “Just with higher stakes.”

“Boss,” Daniel interrupts. “I think we’ve lost them for now, but we can’t go to any of the safe houses. They might be compromised.”

Max nods. “Good thinking. Head for the marina. We’ll take the boat.”

“Boat?” You echo. “Max, I can’t just leave. My job, my life-”

“Your life will be over if the Silver Arrows find you,” Max says bluntly. “You’re involved now, whether you like it or not. I’m sorry, but there’s no going back.”

The gravity of the situation finally hits you. This isn’t some exciting adventure that you can just walk away from. This is real, and it’s dangerous.

“What have you gotten me into, Max?” You whisper.

His arm tightens around you. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises. “No matter what.”

You want to believe him. Despite everything, despite the insanity of the past twelve hours, you find that you do believe him.

As the car speeds towards the marina, you try to process everything that’s happened. Your quiet life of academia seems like a distant memory now. In its place is ... what? Danger? Excitement? A chance at something you never knew you wanted?

You look at Max, studying his profile. He seems different from the boy you knew in high school. Harder, certainly, but there’s something else too. A confidence, a magnetism that you can’t deny.

As if sensing your gaze, Max turns to look at you. For a moment, the facade of the hardened crime boss slips, and you see a flicker of the boy you once knew.

“I really am sorry about all this,” he says softly. “If I could go back and undo it all, I would.”

“Would you?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

Max looks taken aback. “Wouldn’t you want me to?”

You consider this. “I don’t know,” you admit. “This is all terrifying and insane, but ... I’ve never felt more alive.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well,” he says, echoing his words from last night. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Y/N.”

Before you can respond, Daniel announces, “We’re here.”

The car pulls up to a private dock where a sleek yacht is moored. Max helps you out of the car, his hand lingering on your lower back.

“Last chance to back out,” he says, his eyes searching your face. “Say the word, and I’ll have Daniel take you back. We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe.”

You look at the yacht, then back at Max. In your mind’s eye, you see your apartment, your job, your safe, predictable life. Then you see bullets flying, feel the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice.

“Let’s go,” you say, taking Max’s hand and stepping onto the gangplank.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re leaving more than just the city behind. You’re leaving your old self, your old life.

And as terrifying as that is, you can’t wait to see what comes next.

***

As the yacht cuts through the waves, you find yourself standing at the stern, watching the city skyline grow smaller by the minute. The reality of your situation is starting to sink in, bringing with it a cocktail of emotions — fear, excitement, and a nagging curiosity that won’t let you rest.

You turn to find Max leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. There’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before, a reminder that you’re not the only one affected by this sudden turn of events.

“Max,” you say, breaking the silence. “Why did you really pick me?”

He glances at you, a flicker of something crossing his face before his expression settles back into careful neutrality. “The doctor part, obviously ...”

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there’s more to it. Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“And you have no one who would miss you,” he continues, his voice softer now. “No contact with family and, as far as I’m concerned, no friends who would notice.”

Your heart sinks at his words, partly because of the stark truth in them, and partly because of the implications. “Notice ... oh fuck, you’re gonna kill me?”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in what looks like genuine offense. “No. That’s a last resort, too many questions. You’re on my boat now, aren’t you?”

You let out a shaky breath, not sure whether to feel relieved or more worried. “So what then? Am I your hostage? Your accomplice? What exactly is my role in this mess?”

Max pushes off from the railing, moving closer to you. “Right now? You’re under my protection. Beyond that ... I guess we’ll have to figure it out as we go.”

“Figure it out?” You repeat incredulously. “Max, I left everything behind. My job, my apartment, my entire life. I need more than ‘we’ll figure it out.’”

He has the decency to look chagrined. “You’re right. You deserve answers. But right now, our priority has to be getting somewhere safe.”

“And where exactly is that?” You press.

Max glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning in closer. “We’re headed to Monaco.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Monaco? As in, the luxury resort town on the French Riviera?”

He nods, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “The very same. I have an ... associate there who can help us.”

“An associate,” you echo skeptically. “Another crime lord, I assume?”

Max’s smile widens. “Something like that. His name is Charles. He’s the heir to the Rosso Corsa Mafia.”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally getting to you. “The Rosso Corsa Mafia? Seriously? What is this, some kind of international crime syndicate convention?”

“Hey, networking is important in any business,” Max quips, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

For a moment, you’re both laughing, the tension of the past few hours dissipating slightly. But as the laughter fades, reality sets in once more.

“Max,” you say, your voice quiet now. “What am I doing here? Really?”

He sobers, his gaze intense as he looks at you. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. When I came to your apartment last night, I was just looking for help. I didn’t plan for any of this.”

“But you must have had some idea,” you press. “You said you kept tabs on me. Why?”

Max is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching your face. Finally, he speaks. “Do you remember our last day of school together? Before I ... left?”

You furrow your brow, thinking back. “Vaguely. It was just an ordinary day, wasn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “Not for me. That was the day I decided to leave. I was in the library, trying to figure out how I was going to tell my parents I wanted to drop out. And then you came in.”

“I did?” You ask, surprised. You have no memory of this.

Max nods. “You were returning a stack of books. You looked ... happy. Excited about your future. I remember thinking how different we were. How I’d never have that kind of certainty, that sense of purpose.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. “So... what? You’ve been keeping an eye on me out of some kind of twisted nostalgia?”

He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds creepy. I just ... I guess I wanted to know that someone from our old life made it. That it was possible to be normal and happy.”

“And now you’ve dragged me into your world,” you say, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

Max looks stricken. “I never meant for this to happen. If I could go back-”

“But you can’t,” you interrupt. “We’re here now. So what happens next?”

Before Max can answer, a crew member approaches. “Sir, we’ve just received word from Monaco. Mr. Leclerc is expecting us.”

Max nods. “Thank you, Rupert. Tell the captain to push the engines. I want to make it there before nightfall.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane. You know that, right? This whole situation is completely insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” Max says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. Say the word, and I’ll have the captain turn this boat around.”

You consider it for a moment. Your old life seems so far away already, like a half-remembered dream. And despite the danger, despite the uncertainty, you can’t deny the thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

“No,” you say finally. “I’m in this now. For better or worse.”

Max’s expression softens. “I promise you, Y/N, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you stand there, the salt spray on your face and the wind in your hair, you find yourself believing him. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you trust him.

The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Max is constantly on his phone, speaking in hushed tones in what sounds like a mix of Dutch and French. You catch snippets about “security measures” and “clean identities,” but most of it goes over your head.

As the sun begins to set, casting the sea in shades of gold and pink, you find yourself back at the stern of the yacht. The coastline has long since disappeared, leaving nothing but endless ocean in every direction.

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Max approaching, two glasses of champagne in hand.

“I thought we could use a drink,” he says, offering you a glass. “To new beginnings?”

You take the glass, clinking it gently against his. “To new beginnings,” you echo, taking a sip. The champagne is exquisite, of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less from a mob boss’s yacht.

“We should be arriving in Monaco in a few hours,” Max says, leaning against the railing beside you. “Charles has arranged for a car to meet us at the marina. We’ll be staying at his family’s villa in the hills.”

You nod, trying to process this information. “And then what?”

Max shrugs. “We lie low for a while. Figure out our next move. The Silver Arrows won’t give up easily, but they’ll have a hard time touching us in Monaco. The Leclercs practically own the place.”

“And where do I fit into all this?” You ask, voicing the question that’s been nagging at you since you stepped onto this boat.

Max turns to face you fully, his expression serious. “That’s up to you, Y/N. I won’t force you into anything. If you want to walk away once we’re in Monaco, I’ll make sure you have the means to do so safely.”

You consider this. The sensible thing would be to take the out he’s offering. Go back to your life of books and lectures and quiet evenings alone. But the thought leaves you feeling ... empty.

“And if I don’t want to walk away?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Then I suppose we’ll have to find a place for you in this brave new world of ours.”

As you stand there, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you can’t help but feel like you’re on the cusp of something momentous. Your old life is behind you now, growing more distant with every passing moment. Ahead lies uncertainty, danger ... and possibility.

You take another sip of champagne, savoring the bubbles on your tongue. Whatever comes next, you realize, you’re ready for it. Ready for the adventure, the risk, the chance to reinvent yourself.

As the yacht cuts through the darkening waters, carrying you towards a future you never could have imagined, you find yourself smiling. For the first time in years, maybe for the first time ever, you feel truly, exhilaratingly alive.

***

The yacht glides smoothly into the marina, the lights of Monaco twinkling like a galaxy of stars against the night sky. You stand at the railing, taking in the sight of luxury yachts and sleek speedboats bobbing gently in their berths. It’s a world away from your modest apartment back home.

Max appears at your side, his face tense. “Remember,” he murmurs, “stay close to me and don’t say anything unless you’re directly addressed. Charles is an ally, but he can be ... unpredictable.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The reality of your situation is sinking in again, the brief respite of the boat ride fading away.

As the crew secures the yacht, a figure emerges from the shadows of the dock. Even in the dim light, you can tell he’s striking — all lean muscles and sharp cheekbones, with piercing green eyes that seem to take in everything at once.

“Max,” he says, his accent a mix of French and something you can’t quite place. “You’ve brought trouble to my doorstep again, I see.”

Max steps forward, clasping the man’s hand. “Charles. Thank you for this. I owe you one.”

Charles’ lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Add it to your tab, my friend.” His gaze shifts to you, curiosity evident in his expression. “And who might this be?”

Before Max can answer, Charles is already moving towards you, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips in a smooth motion. “Enchanté, mademoiselle. I am Charles Leclerc.”

You stammer out your name, caught off guard by his Old World charm. Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Adorable,” he says. “Now, shall we? It’s not wise to linger here.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides towards the parking lot. Max gives you a gentle push, urging you to follow.

As you round the corner, your jaw drops. Sitting there, gleaming under the streetlights, is quite possibly the most ostentatious Ferrari you’ve ever seen. It’s matte black with an eye-catching racing stripe in the colors of the Monegasque flag, and sleek lines that practically scream speed and luxury.

Charles is already sliding into the driver’s seat, while Max ushers you into the back. As the engine roars to life, a thought occurs to you.

“Is this a kidnapping?” You blurt out, your nerves finally getting the better of you.

Charles catches your eye in the rearview mirror, a smirk playing on his lips. “You seem very willing for one.”

Your cheeks flush. “That doesn’t calm my nerves!”

“It is like this,” Charles sighs, accelerating smoothly as he maneuvers through the narrow streets of Monaco. “Do as Max says or we dump your body.”

“What!” You exclaim, your heart rate spiking.

Max shoots Charles a glare. “Charles, do not scare her more than necessary. The poor girl is already terrified.”

Charles shrugs, not taking his eyes off the road as he takes a sharp turn that has you clutching the seat. “I merely state facts, mon ami. Our world is not for the faint of heart.”

You look to Max, seeking reassurance. He meets your gaze, his expression softening slightly. “Ignore him. You’re under my protection, remember?”

“And what exactly does that mean?” You press, emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I still don’t understand my role in all this.”

Max hesitates, glancing at Charles. The two seem to have a silent conversation before Charles speaks up.

“You, ma chèrie, are an unexpected variable,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Max has a habit of collecting strays, but you ... you’re different.”

“Different how?” You ask, not sure if you should be offended or intrigued.

Charles’ eyes meet yours in the mirror again, a glint of mischief in them. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? But I suspect you’re made of sterner stuff than you let on.”

The car falls silent as you process this. The streets of Monaco fly by outside the window, a blur of high-end boutiques and lavish casinos. It’s like stepping into another world.

Finally, the Ferrari begins to climb, winding its way up into the hills overlooking the city. The road narrows, becoming more secluded, until you’re passing through an ornate gate flanked by high walls.

The car comes to a stop in front of a sprawling villa that looks like something out of a movie. Marble columns, manicured gardens, a fountain bubbling gently in the courtyard — it’s almost too much to take in.

As you step out of the car on shaky legs, Charles is already striding towards the entrance. “Welcome to Casa Leclerc,” he calls over his shoulder. “Try not to break anything irreplaceable.”

Max appears at your side, placing a steadying hand on your lower back. “You okay?” He asks quietly.

You nod, not trusting your voice. Max guides you inside, where you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. Priceless artwork adorns the walls, and you’re pretty sure that’s an actual Fabergé egg sitting casually on a side table.

Charles leads you to a spacious living room, gesturing for you to sit. As you sink into a plush armchair, he busies himself at a well-stocked bar.

“Drink?” He offers. “I imagine you could use one.”

You nod gratefully, and soon find yourself nursing a glass of what’s probably the most expensive cognac you’ve ever tasted.

Charles settles into a chair across from you, swirling his own drink thoughtfully. “Now then,” he says, his tone suddenly all business. “Perhaps it’s time we discussed the situation at hand.”

Max, who’s been pacing near the windows, turns to face the room. “The Silver Arrows are getting bolder. This attack ... it’s a clear escalation.”

Charles nods grimly. “They sense weakness. Your recent expansion has left you vulnerable, mon ami.”

You listen, feeling increasingly out of your depth as they discuss territories, alliances, and what sound like complex financial maneuvers. It’s like overhearing a board meeting for the world’s most dangerous corporation.

Finally, unable to contain yourself any longer, you speak up. “I’m sorry, but what exactly am I doing here? I’m not a part of ... whatever this is.”

Both men turn to look at you, as if suddenly remembering your presence. Charles raises an eyebrow at Max. “Yes, do tell. What is your plan for our unexpected guest?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’re starting to recognize as a sign of frustration. “I didn’t have a plan. It all happened so fast, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“How gallant,” Charles drawls, though there’s a hint of genuine amusement in his voice. “But now we must decide what to do with her. She knows too much to simply let go.”

Your grip tightens on your glass. “I won’t say anything. I swear. Just ... let me go home.”

Max’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s not that simple, Y/N. The Silver Arrows saw you with me. They’ll assume you’re involved, whether you are or not.”

“So what then?” You ask, frustration bleeding into your voice. “Am I your prisoner now?”

“Non, ma chèrie,” Charles interjects smoothly. “Think of yourself as ... a valued guest. Under our protection.”

You laugh bitterly. “Some protection. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and threatened with bodily harm in the span of 48 hours.”

To your surprise, Charles actually looks chagrined. “Ah, yes. My apologies for that. I have a flair for the dramatic, you see.”

“What Charles is trying to say,” Max cuts in, shooting his friend a warning look, “is that you have options. We can set you up with a new identity, somewhere far from here. Or ...”

He trails off, and you find yourself leaning forward despite yourself. “Or what?”

Max and Charles exchange another of those loaded glances before Max continues. “Or you could stay. Become a part of this.”

You blink, sure you must have misheard. “Become a part of ... your crime syndicate? Are you insane?”

Charles chuckles. “Now you’re catching on, chérie. We’re all a little mad here.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. The cognac isn’t helping. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a literature professor, for god’s sake!”

“And yet,” Charles muses, leaning forward, “here you are. You could have called the police at any point. You could have refused to get on that yacht. But you didn’t. Why is that, I wonder?”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not wrong. Despite the fear, despite the danger, there’s a part of you that’s been thrilled by all of this. A part that’s been longing for something more than your quiet, predictable life.

Max kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And I’m not asking you to decide right now. But I want you to know that if you choose to stay, we’ll teach you everything you need to know. You’ll be protected, valued. Part of something bigger than yourself.”

You look into his eyes, searching for ... you’re not sure what. Deception? Ulterior motives? But all you see is sincerity, and something else. Something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I ... I need time to think,” you manage to say.

Charles claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Excellent idea. A good night’s sleep will do wonders for clarity of thought. Allow me to show you to your room.”

As you follow Charles up a sweeping staircase, your mind is whirling. Two days ago, your biggest concern was finishing grading papers on Jane Austen. Now, you’re being offered a place in an international crime syndicate.

It’s absurd.

It’s terrifying.

And yet ...

Charles stops in front of an ornate door. “Your quarters, mademoiselle. I trust you’ll find everything to your liking. We can discuss more in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but call out. “Charles?”

He pauses, looking back at you with those piercing eyes. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this? Helping Max, offering me a place here? What’s in it for you?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling about you, Y/N. You might be exactly what our little organizations need.”

With that cryptic statement, he’s gone, leaving you alone in a luxurious bedroom that probably costs more than your entire apartment back home.

As you sink onto the plush bed, your head spinning from more than just the alcohol, you can’t help but wonder: what would Jane Austen make of all this? Somehow, you don’t think even she could have imagined a plot twist quite like this one.

***

The morning sun filters through the luxurious curtains, rousing you from a surprisingly deep sleep. For a moment, you’re disoriented, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to your cozy little apartment back home. Then the events of the past day come rushing back, and with them, a sudden clarity.

You sit up, your mind made up. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. You’re staying.

After a quick shower and change into clothes that have mysteriously appeared in the wardrobe (and fit perfectly, which you decide not to question), you make your way downstairs. The villa is quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

You follow the sound, finding Max nursing a cup of coffee at a marble island. He looks up as you enter, his expression guarded.

“Morning,” he says cautiously. “Sleep well?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I’ve made a decision.”

He sets down his cup, giving you his full attention. “Oh?”

“I’m staying,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I want to be a part of this. Of your world.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident on his face. “Are you sure? This isn’t a decision to be made lightly, Y/N. Once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

You meet his gaze, unflinching. “I’m sure. My old life ... it never felt right. Like I was just going through the motions. But this? As terrifying as it is, it feels real. It feels right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face, transforming his features. “Well then,” he says, standing up. “I guess we better start your training.”

“Training?” You echo.

Max nods, his expression turning serious. “If you’re going to survive in this world, you need to learn how to protect yourself. First lesson: shooting.”

Your eyes widen. “Shooting? As in, guns?”

“No, we’re going to teach you competitive archery,” Max deadpans. “Of course guns. Come on, Charles has a range in the basement.”

As you follow Max through the winding corridors of the villa, your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This is really happening.

The shooting range is state-of-the-art, with multiple lanes and an impressive array of weapons displayed on the walls. Max selects a handgun, checking it over with practiced ease.

“We’ll start with something simple,” he says, holding out the gun. “A Glock 19. Easy to handle, reliable.”

You take the weapon gingerly, surprised by its weight. Max positions himself behind you, adjusting your stance and grip.

“Remember,” he says, his breath warm against your ear, “breathe steadily. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

You nod, trying to focus on the target at the end of the range rather than the heat of Max’s body behind you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs, stepping back.

You take a deep breath, aim, and pull the trigger. The gun goes off with a deafening bang, and you can’t help but let out a surprised scream.

Max tuts, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, it will give you away.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “Like the loud noise wouldn’t? I shot a gun!”

“And missed,” Max points out, nodding towards the untouched target. “Now go again.”

Gritting your teeth, you face the target once more. This time, you’re prepared for the noise and the recoil. You squeeze the trigger, and to your surprise, the bullet hits the outer ring of the target.

“Better,” Max says, a note of approval in his voice. “Again.”

As the morning wears on, you find yourself falling into a rhythm. Aim, breathe, squeeze. The shots become more accurate, your stance more confident. Max is a patient teacher, offering guidance and correction with a gentle touch here, a murmured word there.

“You’re a natural,” he says after a particularly good round. “Must be all those Jane Austen novels. Secret badass under all that propriety.”

You laugh, lowering the gun. “I don’t think Lizzy Bennet ever handled a Glock.”

“Her loss,” Max grins. “One more round?”

You nod, raising the gun once more. As you fire off the last few shots, you’re aware of Max’s gaze on you, more intense than before. The final bullet hits dead center, and you turn to him with a triumphant smile.

“How was that?” You ask, breathless with exhilaration.

Max doesn’t answer immediately. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher — admiration, certainly, but something else too. Something that makes your pulse quicken.

“Max?” You prompt, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

In one fluid motion, Max closes the distance between you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks through your entire body. You respond instinctively, your free hand fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. The gun clatters to the floor, forgotten.

Max backs you up against the wall of the shooting range, his body pressing against yours. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you opened your door that night,” Max admits, his forehead resting against yours.

You laugh breathlessly. “Even with me in my ratty pajamas?”

“Especially then,” he grins. “You were adorably flustered. And then you went and patched me up without hesitation. I was a goner.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane, you know that? A few days ago I was grading papers on 19th-century classic literature. Now I’m making out with a crime lord in a secret shooting range.”

Max’s expression turns serious. “Is it too much? We can slow down, or-”

You cut him off with another kiss. “No,” you say firmly. “It’s not too much. It’s ... exactly right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well then, doctor. Ready for your next lesson?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Max’s grin turns wicked. “I was thinking something in the realm of close combat. Very hands-on.”

You laugh, a thrill of excitement running through you. “Lead the way.”

As Max takes your hand, leading you out of the shooting range, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. It’s dangerous, it’s completely illogical, and yet ... you’ve never felt more alive.

Whatever comes next, you’re ready for it. With a gun in your hand and Max by your side, you feel like you could take on the world. And who knows? Maybe you will.

***

As Max leads you out of the shooting range, there’s a palpable tension in the air, crackling with unspoken promises. You follow him through the winding corridors of Charles’ villa, your heart racing with anticipation.

“So,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “where exactly are we going for this close combat training?”

Max glances back at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought we’d use the gym. Plenty of space, padded floors ... you know, for safety.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Safety, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. “Y/N, if this is moving too fast-”

You cut him off, stepping closer. “Max, I literally left my entire life behind for you. I think we’re well past too fast.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Fair point. Still, if at any point you want to stop-”

“I’ll let you know,” you assure him. “Now, are you going to show me these close combat moves or what?”

Max’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, I’ll show you alright.”

He pushes open a door, revealing a state-of-the-art gym. The space is impressive, with gleaming equipment and, as promised, a large area covered in training mats.

“Shall we?” Max asks, gesturing to the mats.

You nod, suddenly feeling a bit nervous despite your bravado. As you step onto the mat, Max begins circling you slowly.

“The key to close combat,” he says, his voice low and intense, “is to always be aware of your opponent’s movements. To anticipate their next move.”

You turn, keeping him in your sight. “And how do I do that?”

In a flash, Max is behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “By staying alert,” he murmurs in your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine at his proximity. “I thought I was doing pretty well,” you manage to say.

You can feel Max’s chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Not bad. But you’re still too tense. You need to relax, feel the flow of movement.”

His hands slide up your arms, gently adjusting your posture. You lean back into him, relishing the warmth of his body.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s grip tightens slightly. “Getting there. Now, if someone grabs you like this, what do you do?”

You consider for a moment, then make your move. You twist in his arms, using the momentum to break his hold and face him. “How’s that?”

Max looks impressed. “Not bad at all. You’re a quick learner.”

“I have a good teacher,” you reply, a bit breathless from the maneuver and his proximity.

For a moment, you stand there, faces inches apart, the air heavy with tension. Then Max moves, swift and sure, sweeping your legs out from under you. You land on the mat with a soft thud, Max following you down, pinning you beneath him.

“Rule number one,” he says, his face hovering above yours, “never let your guard down.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what’s rule number two?”

Instead of answering, Max lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You respond eagerly, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. “I think I like rule number two,” you say with a grin.

Max laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, we’re just getting started with the rules, doctor.”

He leans in for another kiss, but this time you’re ready. Using the moves he just taught you, you manage to flip your positions, straddling his waist triumphantly.

“How’s that for staying alert?” You ask, feeling a thrill at the surprised and appreciative look on Max’s face.

“Impressive,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “But you’ve left yourself open.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max surges upward, capturing your lips once more. As you lose yourself in the kiss, you feel him shift, and suddenly you’re on your back again, Max looming over you with a satisfied smirk.

“Distraction,” he says, “can be a powerful weapon.”

You laugh, breathless and exhilarated. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any other lessons you want to teach me?”

Max’s eyes darken. “Oh, I’ve got plenty more to teach you. If you’re up for it.”

You reach up, pulling him down to you. “I’m a very dedicated student,” you murmur against his lips.

What follows is less a lesson in combat and more an exploration of each other. Clothes are discarded, hands roam freely, and the only sounds in the gym are gasps, moans, and occasional laughter.

Later, as you lie tangled together on the training mats, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. Just days ago, you were grading papers in your quiet apartment. Now, you’re in the arms of a mob boss, in a luxurious villa in Monaco, having just had the most exhilarating experience of your life.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Max asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin.

You turn to face him, propping yourself up on an elbow. “Just thinking about how surreal this all is. A week ago, the most exciting thing in my life was finding a rare first edition at an antique book fair.”

Max chuckles. “And now?”

“Now?” You grin. “Now I’m learning to shoot, engaging in ‘close combat training’, and apparently joining an international crime syndicate. It’s ... a lot.”

His expression turns serious. “Is it too much? It’s too late to back out now, you know. I could have set you up somewhere safe, given you a new identity earlier, but now-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Max, I meant what I said earlier. I’m in this. All of it. With you.”

The smile that spreads across his face is radiant. “Good,” he says, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t think I could let you go now if I tried.”

You settle into his embrace, feeling safer than you have in years despite the objective danger of your situation. “So, what’s next on the criminal training agenda?” You ask, only half-joking.

Max pretends to consider. “Well, we’ve covered shooting and hand-to-hand combat. How do you feel about safecracking?”

You laugh. “Safecracking? Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s a valuable skill in our line of work,” Max defends, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically. “And I suppose pickpocketing is next on the list?”

Max grins. “Now that you mention it ...”

You swat his chest playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he points out, capturing your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Here I am,” you agree softly. “So, what happens now? Do we stay here in Monaco? Go back to face the Silver Arrows?”

Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “For now, we stay here. You need more training before we can risk going back. And I need to regroup, strategize.”

You nod, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “So I get to play princess in a Monaco villa while learning the finer points of criminality? I think I can handle that.”

“It won’t all be fun and games,” Max warns. “The Silver Arrows are still out there, and they’re not going to give up easily. We need to be prepared for anything.”

“I know,” you say, your tone turning serious. “I understand the risks. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

He studies your face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nods. “Alright then. Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

***

The Monaco sun beats down relentlessly as you step out of yet another luxury boutique, arms laden with shopping bags. Oscar and Lando, your assigned bodyguards, trail behind you, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

“I think that’s the last one,” you say, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. “Who knew shopping could be so exhilarating?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I think the exhilaration comes from Max finally letting you out of the villa, not the shopping itself.”

You laugh, conceding the point. “True. I never thought I’d be so happy to see the inside of a Gucci store.”

Lando grins. “Just wait until Max sees the bill. That’ll be truly exhilarating.”

As you make your way towards the parked Ferrari, you can’t help but reflect on the past few weeks. The intensive training, the late-night strategy sessions with Max and Charles, the growing feeling that you’re part of something bigger than yourself. It’s been thrilling, but also claustrophobic at times.

“I still can’t believe Max agreed to this little excursion,” you muse as you reach the car.

Oscar shrugs, opening the trunk. “You can be very persuasive when you want to be. Those puppy eyes of yours should be classified as a weapon.”

You’re about to retort when a sudden movement catches your eye. Before you can react, the air is filled with the deafening sound of gunfire.

“Get down!” Lando shouts, pushing you behind the car as he and Oscar draw their weapons.

Your heart pounds as you crouch behind the meager cover, the sounds of a firefight erupting around you. This isn’t like the controlled environment of the shooting range. This is real, chaotic, and terrifying.

“Y/N, stay down!” Oscar yells over the din, returning fire at unseen assailants.

You nod, too shocked to speak. But as you huddle there, a horrifying realization hits you — you recognize some of the voices shouting orders.

The Silver Arrows. They’ve found you.

Suddenly, a strong arm wraps around your waist, yanking you up and away from the car. You struggle instinctively, but your captor’s grip is like iron.

“Well, well,” a deep voice rumbles in your ear. “What do we have here? Max’s new pet, I presume?”

You crane your neck, looking up into a face you’ve seen before — in photographs, in briefings. Toto Wolff, leader of the Silver Arrows himself.

“Let me go,” you growl, trying to sound braver than you feel.

Toto chuckles, the sound devoid of humor. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear. You see, you’re my ticket to bringing Max to his knees.”

As he speaks, you become acutely aware of the weight on your thigh. The gun. The one Max insisted you carry, “just in case.” This, you realize with startling clarity, is that case.

Moving as subtly as you can, you reach for the holster strapped to your leg. Toto, focused on the fight around you, doesn’t notice.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say, stalling for time as your fingers close around the grip of the gun. “There are other ways to resolve conflicts.”

Toto’s laugh is harsh. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t understand our world. This isn’t a negotiation, it’s war.”

You take a deep breath, Max’s training echoing in your mind. Stay calm. Aim true. Squeeze, don’t pull.

“You’re right,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I don’t understand your world.”

In one fluid motion, you pull the gun free and twist in Toto’s grip. Before he can react, you press the muzzle against his chest and pull the trigger.

The gunshot seems impossibly loud, even amidst the chaos of the firefight. Toto’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on you loosening as he stumbles backward.

For a moment, everything seems to freeze. Then, chaos erupts anew.

“Boss!” Someone shouts, and suddenly you’re being pulled away, strong arms encircling you protectively.

“I’ve got you,” Oscar’s voice says in your ear. “We’re getting out of here.”

As he hustles you towards the car, you catch glimpses of the scene around you. Silver Arrow members rushing to their fallen leader. Lando providing cover fire. And blood. So much blood.

Oscar practically throws you into the backseat of the Ferrari before jumping into the driver’s seat. Lando dives in barely a second later, and then you’re peeling away from the curb, tires screeching.

“Are you hurt?” Lando asks, twisting in his seat to look at you.

You shake your head, still too shocked to speak. The gun is still clutched in your hand, and you stare at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“You did good, Y/N,” Oscar says, his eyes flicking to you in the rearview mirror. “You kept your cool. That’s not easy in a situation like that.”

“I ... I shot him,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Toto Wolff. I shot him.”

Lando and Oscar exchange a glance. “You did what you had to do,” Lando says gently. “He would have killed you without hesitation.”

As the adrenaline begins to fade, the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. You’ve just shot one of the most powerful crime lords in Europe. In broad daylight. In the middle of Monte Carlo.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “Max is going to kill me.”

Oscar lets out a surprised laugh. “Are you kidding? He’s going to be thrilled. You just took out his biggest rival.”

“Took out?” You repeat, a new wave of panic washing over you. “You mean he’s ...”

“We don’t know for sure,” Lando says quickly. “But a point-blank shot like that ... it doesn’t look good for Toto.”

You close your eyes, trying to process everything. Just hours ago, your biggest concern was whether to buy the Prada or the Fendi handbag. Now, you might have just assassinated a mob boss.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the villa, where Max is already waiting, his face a mask of concern and anger.

As soon as the car stops, he yanks open your door, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Are you okay?” He demands, his hands roaming over you as if checking for injuries. “When I got the call, I thought ...”

You cling to him, the familiar scent of his cologne grounding you. “I’m okay,” you assure him. “I’m okay.”

Max pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “What happened? Oscar said there was a firefight.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “The Silver Arrows ambushed us. And Toto ... he grabbed me. I ... I shot him, Max. With the gun you gave me.”

For a moment, Max just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, a slow smile spreads across his face. “You shot Toto Wolff?”

You nod, still unsure of his reaction. “I think ... I think I might have killed him.”

Max’s smile widens into a full-blown grin. “Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’ve single-handedly changed the balance of power in our world.”

“I have?” You ask, feeling slightly dazed.

He nods, pulling you close again. “You’re incredible, you know that? I knew you were special from the moment I showed up at your door, but this ... this is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

As Max leads you into the villa, his arm protectively around your waist, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. From literature professor to potential assassin in a matter of weeks. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and completely surreal.

“What happens now?” You ask as Max guides you to the study, where Charles is already waiting, phone in hand.

Max exchanges a look with Charles before turning back to you. “Now? Now we prepare for war. The Silver Arrows won’t take this lying down, Toto dead or alive. But with you by my side ...” He trails off, a fierce pride in his eyes.

“You can be unstoppable,” Charles finishes, raising his glass in a toast.

As you sink into a chair, the events of the day finally catching up with you, you realize that this is your life now. Gunfights and power plays, luxury shopping sprees and criminal empires. It’s a far cry from grading papers on Jane Austen, but as you look at Max, seeing the mix of pride, concern, and love in his eyes, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The war may be just beginning, but with Max by your side and a newfound confidence in your abilities, you’re ready to face whatever comes next. After all, you’ve already taken down Toto Wolff. What’s a little inter-syndicate warfare compared to that?

***

Five Years Later

The small apartment buzzes with the energy of five recent college graduates, sprawled across mismatched furniture in various states of relaxation. Empty pizza boxes and half-empty wine bottles litter the coffee table, evidence of their Friday night catch-up session.

“Alright, alright,” Emily says, reaching for her phone. “What should we put on for background noise? Music? TV?”

Jake, lounging on the worn leather armchair, perks up. “Oh! What about that true crime podcast I was telling you guys about? The one about modern mobs?”

Zoe, curled up on the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Isn’t that a bit heavy for a chill hangout?”

“No, no, it’s fascinating!” Jake insists. “It’s not just gruesome stuff. It’s all about the economics and politics of modern organized crime. Super interesting.”

Lisa, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shrugs. “I’m game. Could be fun to learn something while we drink.”

“Seconded,” chimes in Alex from his spot by the window. “Hit play, Em.”

Emily fiddles with her phone, connecting it to the bluetooth speaker. “Alright, here we go. ‘The Mob in the Modern Age: Episode 7 — The Dutch Syndicate’s Rise to Power.’”

As the podcast’s intro music fades, a smooth, professional voice fills the room:

“In the world of organized crime, power shifts can happen in the blink of an eye. But few have been as sudden or as dramatic as the meteoric rise of the Dutch Crime Syndicate over the past five years. Once a minor player on the European stage, the Dutch Syndicate now controls vast swathes of territory and influences everything from high finance to international politics. But how did this happen? The answer, dear listeners, lies in an unlikely source: a literature professor turned criminal mastermind.”

The friends exchange amused glances. “A literature professor?” Zoe snorts. “Now that’s a career change.”

“Shh,” Jake hushes her, leaning forward intently.

The podcast continues: “It all began with a chance encounter. The Syndicate’s boss, known only as Max Emilian, was injured in a firefight with rival gang members. Desperate for medical attention but unable to go to a hospital, he turned up on the doorstep of a young literature professor in the middle of the night.”

Emily pauses the podcast. “Okay, this sounds like the plot of a bad romance novel.”

“I know, right?” Lisa laughs. “What are the odds?”

Alex shakes his head, grinning. “Maybe our old prof is secretly living it up as a mob wife somewhere.”

The group erupts into laughter at the absurd image.

“Can you imagine?” Zoe gasps between giggles. “Professor Y/L/N in a shootout?”

Jake wipes tears from his eyes. “God, remember how she used to get flustered just operating the projector?”

As the laughter dies down, Emily resumes the podcast.

“What happened next is the stuff of legend in criminal circles. The professor, whose name we now know to be Y/N Y/L/N, not only patched up the crime boss but ended up joining his organization. Within weeks, she had become his right-hand woman and romantic partner.”

The room falls silent, the friends exchanging wide-eyed looks.

“No way,” Alex breathes.

“It can’t be,” Lisa shakes her head. “It’s got to be a coincidence.”

Jake holds up a hand, shushing them as the podcast continues.

“But Y/N’s true moment of infamy came just a month into her new life of crime. During what should have been a routine shopping trip in Monte Carlo, she and her bodyguards were ambushed by members of the rival Silver Arrows gang. In the ensuing chaos, Y/N found herself face to face with none other than Toto Wolff, the notorious leader of the Silver Arrows.”

“Oh my god,” Zoe whispers, her face pale.

“What happened next would change the landscape of European organized crime forever. Y/N, using a gun given to her by Max for protection, shot Toto Wolff at point-blank range. Wolff did not survive the encounter, his death throwing the Silver Arrows into disarray.”

Emily pauses the podcast again, her hand shaking slightly. “Guys ... this can’t actually be our Professor Y/L/N, right? I mean, it’s impossible.”

The room is silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought.

“Remember how she just ... disappeared?” Alex says slowly. “In the middle of the semester? The department said it was a family emergency, but no one ever heard from her again.”

Jake nods, his brow furrowed. “And it was right around the time this podcast is talking about. Five years ago, give or take.”

Lisa shakes her head vehemently. “No. No way. Our Y/N? The one who cried when we threw her a surprise party for finishing her PhD? There’s no way she shot someone.”

“But think about it,” Zoe says, warming to the idea. “She was always talking about how literature reflects real life, how the best stories come from unexpected places. What if ... what if she decided to live a story instead of just teaching about them?”

The group falls silent again, each of them trying to reconcile the image of their soft-spoken, cardigan-wearing professor with the gun-toting criminal mastermind described in the podcast.

Emily takes a deep breath. “Should we ... should we listen to the rest?”

After a moment of hesitation, they all nod. She presses play:

“In the years since that fateful day in Monte Carlo, Y/N has become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Known in criminal circles as ‘The Professor,’ she’s rumored to be the strategic mind behind the Dutch Syndicate’s most daring and successful operations. Her background in literature and analysis has proven unexpectedly valuable in the world of organized crime, allowing her to see patterns and opportunities that others miss.”

Jake lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that part I can actually see. Remember how she could break down a text? Find connections no one else saw?”

The others nod, still looking shell-shocked.

The podcast continues: “Last year, Y/N and Max officially tied the knot in what insiders describe as the criminal event of the decade. The guest list reportedly included high-ranking members of various international syndicates, as well as several politicians and business moguls whose connections to the underworld had previously been only rumored.”

“A mob wedding,” Alex says faintly. “Our professor had a mob wedding.”

Zoe suddenly sits up straight. “Wait a second. Guys, remember that weird email we all got about a year ago? The one that looked like spam but had our names in it?”

The others nod slowly, realization dawning.

“It said something about a ‘special event’ and how the sender wished we could be there,” Lisa recalls. “We all thought it was just a weird phishing attempt.”

“Holy shit,” Jake breathes. “She invited us to her mob wedding.”

The podcast wraps up: “Today, the Dutch Crime Syndicate stands at the pinnacle of European organized crime, with Y/N and Max as its power couple. Their story serves as a reminder that in the modern criminal underworld, brains can be just as valuable as brawn. And sometimes, the most dangerous person in the room might just be the one with a literature degree.”

As the outro music plays, the friends sit in stunned silence.

Finally, Emily speaks up. “So ... do we think it’s really her?”

They look at each other, years of shared memories and inside jokes about their favorite professor flashing through their minds.

“I mean, what are the odds of two literature professors named Y/N Y/L/N getting mixed up with the mob in the same year?” Alex points out.

Jake nods slowly. “And it would explain why she just vanished. Why the department was so weird about it.”

“But ... but it’s Y/N,” Lisa protests weakly. “She used to bring us cookies during finals week. She cried when we analyzed sad poems.”

Zoe reaches for her phone. “Only one way to find out for sure. I’m googling her.”

The others crowd around as Zoe types in their former professor’s name. The search results load, and they collectively gasp.

There, staring back at them from countless news articles and blurry paparazzi shots, is an unmistakable face. It’s older, harder somehow, but undeniably the woman who once taught them about Jane Austen and Shakespeare.

“Well,” Emily says faintly, “I guess this explains why she always said Pride and Prejudice needed more action scenes.”

The room erupts into hysterical laughter, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting them full force.

As they catch their breath, Jake raises his wine glass. “To Professor Y/L/N,” he says solemnly. “May her gun be as mighty as her pen.”

The others join in the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“You know,” Alex muses, “I always thought her lectures on Crime and Punishment were a little too detailed.”

Another round of laughter fills the apartment as the friends settle in to re-listen to the podcast, this time with a whole new perspective on their former professor turned criminal mastermind.

As the night wears on, they share memories of their college days, now tinged with the surreal knowledge of where life has taken their beloved professor. And though none of them would admit it out loud, there’s a small part of each of them that can’t help but admire the sheer audacity of it all.

After all, how many people can say their literature professor went on to conquer the criminal underworld?

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meliciousmel13 · 12 days ago

Note

billie x bimbo!reader based off of that one scene from euphoria where cassie basically becomes a little doll for nate and lets him dress her😭 here’s the scene if you haven’t seen it , i had to dig for it a lil

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFQ2TWBm/

thank you <3 love your writing so much

➛ doll

paring: billie x bimbo!reader

warnings: Manipulative Billie, Power Imbalance, Soft Dom/Sub Undertones, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Dependency

wc: 878

SYNOPSIS/REQUEST: billie x bimbo!reader based off of that one scene from euphoria where cassie basically becomes a little doll for nate and lets him dress her.

an: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANONN

Billie was all you had. She was all you needed. At least that’s what she made it sound like.

You loved her, more than anything.

So when she told you to sit on the bed, you did. When she rummaged through her closet, pulling out pieces she thought would suit you best, you sat quietly, watching her with wide, adoring eyes. She was beautiful, commanding in a way that made you want to give her everything—even yourself.

“You trust me, don’t you, baby?” she asked, her voice smooth, as she held up a fitted white satin dress.

“Of course,” you replied instantly, the words tumbling out like they belonged to her.

“Good.” She smiled, that smile that made your heart leap, and handed you the dress. “Put this on. I want to see how perfect you look.”

You didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. You stood and slipped out of your clothes, completely unbothered by her lingering gaze. You’d grown used to the way her eyes followed your every move, drinking you in like she couldn’t get enough. The dress slid over your body like it was made for you, every line and curve molded just right.

When you turned back to her, her expression softened, but there was something hungry in her eyes.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer. Her fingers caught the fabric at your waist, tugging it into place as if it wasn’t already perfect. “I told you you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away, but Billie wasn’t having it. She tilted your chin up, her touch gentle but firm, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Don’t look away,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over your jaw. “I want you to see yourself the way I do.”

Her hands slid down to your waist, holding you steady as she guided you toward the mirror across the room. Standing behind you, her arms wrapped around your middle, her chin resting on your shoulder, she whispered in your ear.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice reverent. “You’re mine. All mine.”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t know what to say. The words seemed to stick in your throat, so you just nodded, leaning back into her warmth.

“That’s right,” Billie continued, her fingers tracing slow circles over your hips. “You don’t need anyone else, baby. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Billie’s grip on your waist tightened slightly as her lips brushed against your temple, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down your spine. She held you steady, her voice wrapping around you like silk as she murmured, “Say it, baby. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough for her.

“Louder.”

“You,” you repeated, your voice steadier this time, though your heart was pounding. “I’m yours.”

“That’s my good girl,” she purred, her tone dripping with satisfaction. She shifted her focus back to the mirror, watching the way you seemed to melt under her touch. “Look how pretty you are. And I did that. I made you this perfect.”

Her hands slid down your sides, smoothing the fabric of the dress as though she was savoring the feel of it against your body. She didn’t stop there, though. Her fingers trailed lower, teasing just at the edge of where the hem brushed your thighs.

“Billie…” you started, unsure of whether it was a plea or a protest.

“Shh,” she soothed, her lips curling into a smirk. “I know, angel. I know.”

She spun you around to face her, her hands never leaving your waist. Her eyes raked over you slowly, taking in every detail like she was committing it to memory. When her gaze finally met yours again, there was a heat in her expression that made you feel like the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, the word spilling out before you even had a chance to think about it.

Her smirk deepened. “I know you would. That’s why I love you.”

The way she said it, so casual yet so consuming, made your knees weak. Billie didn’t just tell you she loved you; she made it sound like an absolute truth, something undeniable and inescapable.

She leaned in, her hands sliding up to cup your face as she kissed you. It wasn’t soft or tentative—no, it was full, claiming, demanding. Her lips pressed against yours like she was trying to pour every ounce of control she held into you, leaving you breathless and dizzy.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks as she held you there, close, exactly where she wanted you.

“You don’t need anyone else, baby,” she said again, her voice low and firm, like she was cementing the thought in your mind. “Just me. Always me.”

And as you stood there in her arms, staring into her eyes that burned with possession and adoration, you knew she was right. Billie was all you had. She was all you needed.

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon, @eilishslut if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

b.e masterlist | m.b masterlist | taglist

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish

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yourstruly-caycay · 8 months ago

Text

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?”

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched.

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger.

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

…

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?"

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN."

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen."

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles.

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes.

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?"

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature."

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades.

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that."

"Mom... what do you mean?"

"W- what is it?"

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair.

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him.

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her.

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

…

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel.

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.”

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.”

“My son.”

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?”

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman.

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”

“Atlas.”

…

~the night after the marriage event~

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after?

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened.

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It��s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it.

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.”

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.”

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?”

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-”

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.”

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.”

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

…

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her.

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother.

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room.

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…”

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?”

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?”

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?”

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?”

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-”

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture.

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #anime #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #poseidon x reader #yandere poseidon x reader

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daisymbin · 5 days ago

Note

hii can u pls do angst #50 with seungcheol? and ofc, not an happy ending >__< i love ur writing sm, thank you!

ah!!! yes I can!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

angst prompt #50: "I hope they're worth it."

seungcheol stumbled through the front door, the faint scent of alcohol and guilt clinging to his skin. the clock on the wall read 8:23am, but he didn’t need to check the time to know he was late—too late. the moment he stepped inside, he saw you sitting on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly, face pale and blotchy, with dried tear tracks staining your cheeks.

you had been crying.

"you’re home," you said flatly, your voice raw like you’d been screaming into a pillow all night.

his heart sank. he’d spent the entire cab ride rehearsing what to say, but the words disintegrated in his throat. his voice came out hoarse. "yeah. i… uh, i lost track of time."

you laughed bitterly, the sound low and hollow, and reached for your phone. you slid it across the coffee table, the motion sharp, deliberate. the screen was lit, an image burned into it—a picture of him kissing someone at the bar.

someone who wasn’t you.

his breath caught. his fingers trembled as he picked up the phone, staring at the evidence of his betrayal. the rush of blood to his ears drowned out everything else.

"you weren’t even going to tell me, were you?" your voice cracked, anger bubbling just below the surface of your words.

"i—" his voice faltered. "i didn’t mean for it to happen. i was drunk, and—"

"don’t." the single word stopped him cold. you stood abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself like you were holding yourself together with sheer will. your eyes shimmered, fresh tears threatening to spill, but you blinked them back, your voice sharper this time. "don’t insult me by blaming it on the alcohol."

his chest tightened, the weight of his mistake pressing harder with every word you spoke. "it was a mistake. i swear, it didn’t mean anything. i—"

"you don’t get to decide what it means, seungcheol." your voice broke, and this time, a sob slipped out. you pressed a hand to your mouth, as if you could stop it, but it was too late. the tears were falling again, streaming down your face even as you tried to stand tall. "you don’t get to brush it off like it’s something small, like it’s something i’m supposed to forgive just because you feel guilty now."

he moved closer, his hands trembling as he reached for you, desperate to bridge the chasm he’d created. "please, it was a moment of weakness. i love you—"

"love?" you let out a strangled laugh, the sound choked by tears. you wiped at your face with shaky hands but didn’t bother to hide how much you were breaking. "is this what love looks like to you? leaving me here all night, wondering if you were safe, only to find out you were with someone else?"

his knees felt weak. he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t even know why I—"

"stop." you cut him off sharply, your voice steadier now, though the tears kept falling. "don’t sit there and act like you don’t know why. you knew exactly what you were doing. you just didn’t care enough about me to stop yourself."

his own tears started to spill, hot and heavy, but he didn’t wipe them away. "it was a mistake," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. "it didn’t mean anything."

"it meant enough for you to do it," you shot back, your tone trembling but firm.

you bent down to pick up your bag from the floor, your movements slow, like every step you took was crushing you.

"wait," he blurted, panic lacing his voice. "where are you going? we can fix this. we can—"

"we?" you turned to face him one last time, your tear-streaked face filled with heartbreak and resolve. "there is no ‘we’ anymore, seungcheol. you destroyed that the moment you kissed her, the moment you decided i wasn’t enough."

his throat tightened as he tried to hold back his own sobs. "i’ll do anything. just… don’t leave. please."

you shook your head, the weight of the tears on your lashes making them shimmer in the dull morning light. "i hope she was worth it," you said quietly, your voice trembling as your lips quivered. "i really do."

he could only watch as you walked out the door, the sound of it closing behind you echoing in the empty apartment.

he stayed on the couch, staring at the spot where you’d stood moments ago, his tears falling freely now. the silence was suffocating, filled with the weight of everything he’d lost. he buried his face in his hands again, but this time, there was no one left to comfort him.

and he knew he deserved it.

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uselesseaweedbrain · 17 days ago

Text

Supercorptober - 13. L-Corp

And- boom. Kara has blobbed the article. It’s done. The aliens will know, will be able to protect themselves, and Kara might get fired, but- with all these lives in the balance, this feels worth it, still.

Before Kara has too much time to dwell on her grim fate as a journalist, NSYNC sounds in the room - You're all I ever wanted, You’re all I ever needed, yeah-

“Lena!”, Kara answers her phone enthusiastically, relieved for the distraction.

“Kara, I think I found something. Funding into a facility that was supposedly defunct. It’s big enough to build almost anything, or hide something-“

A buzz, clutter, and the sound of something falling on the end of the line. Kara changes into her super-suit faster than anyone can blink, is already out the window when she calls:

“Lena?”

Footsteps, no answer. Kara is already halfway over to L-Corp, it will be fine-

“Stay back!”

Almost there - Kara can hear Lena’s erratic heartbeat and three others’, sounds of struggle-

“Lena?!”

Lena doesn’t answer. It doesn’t matter.

Supergirl is close, a handful of milliseconds away, Lena will be safe.

A gasp and a cry; a body free falling from the skyscraper’s balcony.

Long hair. Lena’s perfume.

Kara dives headfirst before any conscious thought can form, her arms folding around Lena as she stops their fall and bundles her up in a bridal carry.

“Lena-“, she whispers, and Lena’s hand grips the fabric of her suit like a lifeline.

Supergirl is not Kara. And Supergirl should be maintaining boundaries with Lena Luthor.

Kara can’t bring herself to care.

Lena is in her arms, both their hearts beating too fast, and Kara hovers in the air - a handful of seconds, minutes, she can’t tell -, thoughts too jumbled and mind too panicked, her hearing focused on Lena’s still beating heart.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. The rhythmic sound is enough to drown everything else. Lena’s alive, she’s alive. She’s alive.

If Lena had plummeted to her death, not knowing to yell for Kara- not knowing Kara would come-

“Lena”, she murmurs again. “I’ve got you, it’s me, it’s Kara, you’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Lena doesn’t answer.

Kara squeezes her gently against her chest.

She can still hear the imbecilic criminals above her on the balcony, can see them looking at each other in panic as she rises, Lena safe in her arms.

“Dropped something?”, she snarks.

Her freeze breath makes quick work of them, allowing her to deposit Lena on the solid ground of her balcony’s stone paving.

Lena still hasn’t spoken.

“I’ll be right back’”, Kara promises, pulling her earpiece from a hidden pocket and tapping it twice, before gathering the goons’ unconscious bodies and piling them on the balcony.

“Alex. Three men. They attacked Lena just now. Yes, she’s safe. Yes- Yes, I just need you to pick them up, L-Corp. Lena’s office, top floor. They’re on the balcony, all tied up. Thank you, Alex. Bye.”

Lena stands shell-shocked on her stilettos for the duration of the whole operation, unresponsive, but docilely following when Kara takes her by the hand and leads her to sit on her couch, closing the balcony door behind them.

Kara sits down slowly opposite Lena, grasping both her hands in hers as she tries to catch Lena’s empty gaze.

“Lena”, she calls gently. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe. You’re okay, Lena, I promise, I’m here, you’re okay. Just, try to stay with me, okay?”

Lena squeezes Kara’s hands absently, and Kara smiles encouragingly.

“That’s good. You’re doing great. Just- tell me three things you can see, Lena, anything you want, just three things.”

Lena’s voice comes out strangled as she croaks out: “Your skin.”

“Okay, good, you’re doing well. What else?”

“Your hair”, Lena murmurs, her voice already steadier.

“One last thing, Lena.”

“Your super-suit.”

Kara nods.

“Good. Now, three things you can touch?”

“Your hands- the fabric of the couch- my pantsuit-“

“Perfect, Lena. Now, just breathe with me, okay? Take a breath in - one, two three, four - breath out - one, two, three, four, again, take a deep breath in”-

“That’s good, very good, now breathe out, one, two, three, four. Again-“

Lena’s heartbeat slows at last, Kara’s settling with hers as the adrenaline subsides.

Lena’s okay, Lena’s safe, nothing else matters, and-

Lena’s corporate mask slides back into place as she rises from the couch, taking her hands from under Kara’s and extending her right one in thanks.

“Thank you, Supergirl. I don’t know what I would have done without you, and- I’m sorry you had to see that. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening.”

Oh. Kara recoils instinctively at the formal address, her hands dropping to her sides limply as she gapes.

She doesn’t know it’s me. She didn’t hear me. All of this and she didn’t hear me.

“I- no, of course not- but I-“

“Let me walk you to the door. I can let Agent Danvers in myself, if you’d rather not wait with me, or-“

“Lena.” Kara interrupts. “Did you really not hear me?”

“Hear you when, Supergirl?” Lena’s tone is even and controlled. Polished.

She knows. A little voice whispers. This is a test. A game.

I know you believe in her, Kara, but she’s a Luthor.

I’ve learnt the hard way not to trust anything that comes out of a Luthor’s mouth.

Kara shivers. Lena is secretive, can lie and manipulate like no other, hide her real motives and plan and plot, but it’s always been for the greater good, she’s always helped-

If she turned on her own mother, what’s stopping her from playing the long con on you?

Kara’s fists clench. They’re wrong; they’re all wrong about Lena.

Lena can be trusted, and Kara will prove it.

“Hear me when I caught you, and held you in my arms, and hovered in the air because I just needed to feel for a moment that you were safe. Hear me when I threw all caution to the wind. Hear me when I told you my name.”

Lena’s throat bobs as she swallows, a sheen of tears forming in her eyes as she averts her gaze.

“I- I wasn’t sure if you’d meant to say it. So I thought I’d give you a chance to take it back. Pretend the Luthor didn’t know.”

Kara’s chest aches and twists.

“To- to take it back? How can you- How can you think- Rao, Lena, you almost died!”

Kara didn’t mean to raise her voice, she didn’t.

But now Lena is folding into herself, making herself smaller, as if to disappear, her gaze averted from Kara’s- there’s a fresh smell of fear in the air-

“Shit, shit, Lena, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, Lena, I shouldn’t have yelled-“

Kara takes two steps back, then three, stumbling against Lena’s mahogany desk as her own hands tremble.

Lena doesn’t move - just waits, prostrate and in silence - and Kara feels bile rise up in her throat and swallows the urge to puke.

A knock sounds on the door and none of them move.

“Supergirl? Ms. Luthor? I’m coming in!”

Alex pushes the door open, and Lena straightens but Kara doesn’t - weakly gesturing to the balcony with a “They’re there, Alex.”

Alex sends her a worried look before calling her team to come in and clean up.

Kara doesn’t want to look at Lena, is afraid to move after her outburst, but she’s making Lena uncomfortable. She should leave.

“I’m sorry, Lena”, she whispers. “I’ll just go- do you- do you need anything? A taxi? A ride home?”

Kara sees Lena shake her head slowly. “No, thank you. Actually, I-“

Kara’s eyes snap up.

“I think I’ll just call George and see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Kara answers quietly.

She exits Lena’s office through the balcony, and if Alex frowns at her departure, she doesn’t comment in front of her team.

Kara takes to the skies and doesn’t come down - above the clouds, she can think, and forget about the city and the city sounds and the city inhabitants and Lena recoiling at the sound of her voice-

Kara knows she’s powerful - knows she can pound buildings down with her fists, crush metal with her bare hands, bring any element to the point of fusion with her eyes- she knows she’s scary, but Lena-

She reminds Kara of Alex after she broke her hand.

The fear. The realisation that Kara could hurt her. Had the power to crush her.

Did Lena believe Kara would use it?

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

Kara had not gone to sleep but she still had a job to get to - or so she’d assumed, until she reached her office with weary eyes and was called into Snapper Carr’s office, faced with a computer screen displaying her blog, and told in no uncertain words:

“You’re fired, Ponytail.”

Kara had wanted to call Alex, but Alex had other problems, she was surely busy with the DEO and the alien abductions and Lena’s intel from the night before-

Oh. Golly.

Kara hadn’t told anyone about it. Had not even gotten the complete information from Lena after the attempt on her life.

She had lunch scheduled with Lena today - didn’t want to call before she made sure Lena would want to see her - maybe, if Lena forgave her, she could bring it up, after.

In any case, she had something she thought Lena should have.

Six bags of Big Belly Burger in hand, and a small, squared box in her pocket, Kara headed to L-Corp. As always, she was shown up and into Lena’s office immediately.

“Lena.” Kara began as soon as the door closed behind them. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry for yesterday, for scaring you, for yelling at you-“

Shock registers on Lena’s features and the CEO shakes her head slowly.

“Honestly, this morning, I wasn’t even sure what was real anymore, but- you are her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Kara hangs her head in shame before resuming her apology.

“Yes, I am her- it was me, yesterday, all me, and the way I behaved was inexcusable, Lena, I’m so sorry- I would never hurt you, but the way I shouted at you-“

Lena raises her hand and Kara pauses.

“Kara, I know. I know that you would never hurt me. The way I reacted yesterday- it wasn’t your fault."

Kara shakes her head but Lena continues.

“I just- being yelled at, it triggered some bad memories, but it wasn’t you, Kara.”

“Still- I should have never raised my voice at you. I was scared - you came so close to dying, and if I hadn’t been on the phone- if you hadn’t known and hadn’t called for me- I was terrified, but it wasn’t an excuse. I shouldn’t have yelled. The way you shut down, Rao, Lena-”

It’s Lena who comes closer this time, and Kara who recoils.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this for me, Lena. I am dangerous, and I know that- the whole world knows that. And I would understand if you weren’t comfortable with me anymore, I can just go-“

A hand on her forearm silences her, and Lena gently intertwines their fingers before leading Kara to the couch.

“Sit.” Lena orders, and Kara obliges.

Lena sits too, close enough to touch - closer than she ever has before.

“I- Growing up with the Luthors- It wasn’t fun. I loved my father so much - for a bit he was the only one opposing Lillian and protecting me, but he- he wasn’t perfect. I think I erased some of his flaws in my head, because after Lillian’s reveal of my lineage- things started coming back to me. Things like the way father would drink in his office and call me or Lex to assist him. The way he would throw tantrums - or his whiskey glass, or the nearest book - when something didn’t go his way. The way he would sometimes rage and yell and destroy, and I would hide behind Lex when he was there. The way father would go back to caring and loving the next day and the way I concluded this was all in my imagination.”

Lena lays a gentle hand on Kara’s clenched fist, and Kara makes a conscious effort to relax. Lionel is dead, there is nothing left to be done anymore other than stand at Lena’s side.

“All this to say that yesterday- the free falling from the balcony had shaken me a bit, and I was not in my right mind. Being yelled at- it triggered things that I can usually control much better, but I was unbalanced, and in shock, and it wasn’t you. Please don’t think that it was you, Kara. I am not afraid of you.”

Kara exhales as tears run over her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I’m the one who should be apologising and asking how you are, and instead, you’re the one comforting me after I made everything worse, and I-“

Kara sniffs and Lena’s hand reaches out to caress her cheek, wiping Kara’s tears so delicately with her thumb that Kara is convinced that Lena has forgotten she’s indestructible.

Kara closes her eyes and listens to Lena’s steady heartbeat and feels the soothing motion of her thumb on her cheek and thinks that she’s never felt so loved.

“Lena”, Kara whispers in contentment.

Lena hums in response.

The clock ticks in the background.

Kara forces herself to open her eyes, reaching for the squared box in her left pocket.

“Lena, yesterday, I- you know that I reacted terribly, but the reason why- I just kept thinking, what if we hadn’t been on the phone then, what if I hadn’t heard and you hadn’t called me, and you had just-”

A pause, and then, almost too hushed to be heard:

"And to be honest, Lena, I- I’m not sure I could have lived with that outcome."

Lena’s sharp intake of breath prompts Kara to squeeze Lena's hand with their still entwined fingers.

“And so- I wanted you to have this.”

Kara pulls the box open, presenting it to Lena who hesitantly extends the hand thats’s not holding Kara’s.

“May I?” Lena asks, and Kara nods.

Lena runs her finger pads over the jet-black watch with something close to reverence, and Kara has to remember how to breathe.

“Is this-“

Kara nods wordlessly.

“This is my family’s watch, and you can use it as one, or-“ Kara reaches out and gently pries the watch open, revealing a silver button with the El-Mayarah sigil.

“This emits frequencies only audible to Kryptonians. If you press it, I will come, whatever the time or place. I want you to use it, Lena, whenever you’re in danger, whenever you feel like it, whenever you need me. Please.”

“But- Kara- this- are you sure?”

“Very sure”, Kara whispers, and Lena beams and lets Kara tie the watch to her wrist and- why is Kara's heart beating into overdrive?

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caitified · 1 month ago

Note

hi hi hi

can you write caitlin x fem!reader where lexi exposes caitlin on having a crush on a journalist or someone that’s around the team a lot? and caitlin is blushing kicking her feet…

maybe with some happy ending pls pls pls

thank u

sidelines

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none

caitlin clark was a force on the court, but off the hardwood, she struggled with something much more personal: her growing crush on you, the indiana fever’s in-house journalist. your presence lit up every post-game interview, and caitlin found herself lingering on your words, your smile, your laughter. her teammates quickly picked up on her crush, particularly lexie and aliyah, who thrived on teasing caitlin about her infatuation.

“caitlin, do you need a scorecard to keep track of how many times you’ve stared at y/n?” lexie teased one afternoon during practice, earning a chorus of laughter from the team. caitlin shot her a glare but couldn’t hide the flush creeping up her cheeks.

“seriously, just ask her out already,” aliyah chimed in, smirking knowingly. “we all see the way you look at her.”

the banter made caitlin laugh, but inside, she was a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. every time you walked into the locker room, her heart raced, and every smile you threw her way sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. she was determined to keep her feelings under wraps, not wanting to jeopardize your friendship or the team’s dynamic. but it was getting harder to ignore the chemistry simmering between you two.

everything changed one evening after a particularly intense game. the fever had won, and the atmosphere was electric. caitlin was in the locker room, still buzzing with adrenaline, when you entered to conduct your usual post-game interview. the air was thick with anticipation, and caitlin’s heart raced as you approached, clipboard in hand. her gaze wandered over you, admiring how your hair glimmered under the fluorescent lights and the way your smile lit up the room.

“caitlin, can I get your thoughts on tonight’s game?” you asked, your voice steady and professional, yet somehow more intimate in the echo of the empty room.

caitlin nodded, her mind momentarily blank as she struggled to focus. “yeah, um, we played well,” she stammered, and she felt the playful eyes of her teammates boring into her back.

lexie, sensing an opportunity, leaned against a locker, smirking. “caitlin, what’s your favorite play of the night? or maybe your favorite person?”

the room erupted in laughter, and caitlin felt heat rush to her cheeks. you shot caitlin a teasing look, your lips curving into a smile that made her heart leap.

“lexie, come on,” caitlin protested, trying to maintain her composure.

but before she could redirect the conversation, lexie leaned forward, a gleam in her eye. “seriously, caitlin, are you going to tell y/n about your little crush or what?”

caitlin froze, her heart racing at the implication of her friend’s words. the room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you, whose surprised expression mirrored her own confusion. “wait, you like me?” you asked, a mix of shock and intrigue lacing your voice.

the embarrassment felt overwhelming, yet something deep inside caitlin pushed her to be honest. “yeah, I do,” she finally admitted, her voice steadier than she expected. “i’ve had a crush on you for a while now.”

the locker room buzzed with excitement, but for you and caitlin, everything faded away except for the shared gaze. your eyes widened, and you felt your heart leap at her confession. “i like you too,” you said, your smile growing, uncertainty melting into relief. “i thought you were too focused on basketball to even notice me.”

caitlin’s expression softened, her heart swelling with warmth. “you have no idea how much I think about you,” she confessed, stepping closer, the world around you dissolving into background noise. “you make my long days feel worth it.”

lexie and aliyah exchanged knowing glances, their teasing smirks transforming into supportive smiles as they allowed you two a moment. “you two are adorable!” lexie exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

“i’m serious about this,” caitlin said, turning her full attention back to you, sincerity radiating from her gaze. “i want to see where this can go.”

“me too,” you replied, your heart brimming with hope. “i’d love to figure this out together.”

the tension between you melted away, replaced with a warmth that felt like the beginning of something beautiful. as you exchanged shy smiles, the teasing faded into the background, and the world seemed to settle into a comfortable rhythm. caitlin reached out, intertwining her fingers with yours, sealing the moment with a promise of something more.

the next few weeks unfolded like a dream. you and caitlin began to share stolen moments—quick glances during games, soft touches that sent shivers down your spine, and whispered secrets in the locker room. every practice felt electric, the chemistry between you palpable as you found little ways to connect outside the confines of work.

the team began to notice the shift, the way caitlin’s eyes lit up whenever you entered the room and the shy smiles exchanged during your interviews. lexie and aliyah could barely contain their glee, constantly nudging caitlin and whispering playful remarks that made her blush.

“so, are you two official yet?” lexie teased one afternoon, leaning back against the wall with a knowing grin. “or do we need to set up a press conference for this?”

“shut up,” caitlin shot back, though the smile on her face betrayed her. “it’s new, okay?”

aliyah rolled her eyes dramatically. “you guys are like a rom-com waiting to happen. just admit you’re in love!”

it was playful banter, but caitlin couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for you. every time she looked at you, her heart soared. you were kind, intelligent, and so passionate about your work. it was hard to believe that you could be interested in someone like her.

then came the day of the big game—one that everyone had been waiting for. the energy in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement. as caitlin took to the court, she could feel your eyes on her, your unwavering support grounding her amidst the chaos.

during a break in the game, caitlin caught your gaze from the sidelines and flashed a smile, her heart racing as you returned it. in that moment, everything else faded away. she was lost in you, the noise of the crowd a distant hum.

after the game, when the adrenaline still coursed through her veins, caitlin sought you out, excitement bubbling in her chest. you were surrounded by fans and teammates, but she didn’t care. she had to get to you.

“y/n!” she called, pushing through the crowd until she stood in front of you, breathless.

“great game, cait!” you beamed, and caitlin felt her heart swell. “you played amazing.”

“thanks! it felt incredible out there,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “and it felt even better knowing you were watching.”

you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “are you trying to charm me, miss clark?”

caitlin grinned, her confidence growing. “maybe I am. what if I am?”

you stepped closer, the world around you fading as you focused solely on each other. “well, you’re doing a great job,” you admitted, your eyes sparkling.

just then, lexie appeared, a playful smirk on her face. “i’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” she said, winking as she walked away.

caitlin turned back to you, a mix of determination and vulnerability in her gaze. “can we talk? like, really talk?”

you nodded, the excitement bubbling in your chest. “of course.”

as you both found a quiet corner of the arena, caitlin took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “i know this is all new and maybe a little crazy, but i really like you. i want to see where this goes. like, really see where this goes.”

“i want that too, cait,” you replied, your voice steady and sincere. “i didn’t think you’d feel the same way.”

caitlin smiled, a wave of relief washing over her. “it’s more than just a crush for me. you mean a lot to me, and i’d love the chance to explore this.”

with those words, the two of you leaned in, the space between you disappearing. the kiss was soft and tentative at first, then deepened as caitlin wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer. everything else faded away—no teammates, no fans, just you and her in that moment.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and giddy, caitlin couldn’t help but grin. “i guess we’re officially a thing now.”

“yeah, we are,” you laughed, the sound like music to her ears. “and i can’t wait to see what happens next.”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #iowa wbb #wbb imagine

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jasmines-library · 2 months ago

Note

Hey Jasmine, sry idk if ur taking requests of not but I was wondering if I could do a supernatural fic where the boys take their sister out to hunt some werewolves but their sister gets scratched and has a bad cut and has a panic attack, it’s up to the boys to calm her down and get her stitched up…

Caught Off guard.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•

hey hey hi! thanks for the request anon! I actually have something fairly (?) similar here! but i wanted to write this for you too. sorry its a little short.

Word Count: 733

Warnings: Blood. stitches. panic attack.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The wound was deep. And it hurt like a bitch. That was for certain. Three, ragged gashes splashed across your torso from just below your ribs to your belly button. Your blood seeped from it like paint, staining the fabric of your shirt and beading across the smooth expanse of your skin.

The werewolf had caught you off guard. You and your two brothers Sam and Dean had been hunting the pack for just short of a week now and you had managed to take them down without much of a problem once you found them. However, werewolves were clever. And this one had decided to play smart. It had caught you just as you were about to leave, it had jumped out from its hiding spot at the last second, slashing at you in the process. You screamed, the sound ripping from your lips as your flesh tore open. Your brothers were on the creature quickly. But not quick enough to stop the damage from happening.

Your wound burnt. Skin searing with an immeasurable pain as you looked down at it, fingers moving to touch it only to come away tainted with blood. And then Sam was in front of you. His slender fingers resting on your cheek, tilting it to look up at him.

“Hey. hey. Look at me.” Sam said. His voice broke through the haze you hadn’t even realised you were in as he tried to coax you into following his instructions. Despite the panic he was feeling internally, his face betrayed nothing. His eyes were soft and calming as he tried to soothe you. “Breathe,” he told you.

You hadn’t even noticed until now, too hyper fixated on the wound, that you were hyperventilating. Your chest was heaving, a rasp sounding in the back of your throat as you struggled to suck in air with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The all too familiar feelings of a panic attack hit you full force.

“Calm down.” Sam told you gently. “You’re okay. You’re alright. Breathe.”

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing.

“That's it, Sweetheart. Good.” Dean’s hand was on your shoulder. The other one reached to pull your hand away from your wound, placing it on his chest to urge you to follow his breathing. The feeling of his heart beat beneath his shirt was grounding. Slow as steady.

Another breath. Another second trying to slow your breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest which caused a disturbance in your wound, only adding to your pain.

“Good girl.” Sam said softly as your breathing slowed. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

Dean gave your shoulder a squeeze, trying to hide the grimace as he looked at your wounds. Red raw and still oozing blood. “....she’s going to need stitches.”

Your breath hitched, but Sam squeezed your hand. “It’ll be over quickly, princess. Okay?”

You bit your lip, swallowing thickly before nodding hesitantly. Dean moved quickly, grabbing the first aid kit from Baby before sanitising the needle and threading it before handing it to Sam, who has a steadier hand. Dean’s hand replaced Sam’s gripping yours tightly as Sam reddied the needle, positioning it over your skin.

“I’ll be gentle as I can, ok kiddo?”

You nodded, trying to look anywhere but Sam and the needle in his hand.

“It’ll be a quick pinch, okay sweetheart?” Dean reassured me. “You can squeeze my hand as much as you need. Okay?”

“.....okay.”

After taking a breath, Sam pushed the needle into your skin to make the first stitch. His fingers moved with swift precision, determined to get this over as quick as possible and keep it as painless for you as he could. You couldn't help the small whimper that slipped out of your lips as you gripped Dean’s hand tightly.

He squeezed your hand back reassuringly. “That’s it kid. Just a little more.”

Sam worked nimbly, closing the wounds with a few stitches before covering them with a gauze pad and bandages just in case. When he was done, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, allowing you to take a breath.

“All done sweetheart. It’s all done. It’s over.”

You shuddered a sigh, relaxing back into Dean a little bit who gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze.

“You did good kid. So good.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @rosecentury

#supernatural x reader #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #supernatural

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geordikisser · 5 months ago

Text

comforting you! | isaac, nick & blake

epilogue: continuation from my hcs post! :-D i previously made one of tanner & larry if you’re interested in that piece as well! basically something very personal came up. sorry if yumis sucks 😞😞 i failed u all..

content contains! angst, suggestive ( yumi )

⤷ gender isn’t specific! (gender neutral.)

♡ isaac: you clenched your teeth as tears poured down your cheeks. you would rather be caught dead than like this. you feel your face heat up, audibly sobbing a little too. you shakily reach for your phone and swallow your pride and called isaac. you knew you being alone isn’t what you needed. as you even clicked the call icon, you hear a knock on the door. your heart drops as you quickly wipe your face dry instantly. “yes?” your voice being drowned out from your tear & snot stained shirt. “baby? i’m coming in, ok?” that loving, honey-dripping voice made your heart flutter. “i-isaac?” you accidentally stammer out. he opens the door and gives you a goofy smile. “i got food, did you not see your phone?” his smile falls as he furrows his brows. “baby? what’s wrong.” he notices his phone ringing from you and he felt so horrible. “my poor baby, let me hold you.” he ushers towards you and sits besides you instantly, his arms opening to embrace you.

you felt those familiar tears well up once again and you fall into the embrace. “i missed you so much!” you sob out as he shushes you gently. “i’m here baby, i’m here. don’t ever worry, i’ll always be here.” he hums to you. your breath hitching as you try to recollect yourself. “i know me being gone for 20 minutes didn’t do this. what’s up.” he pulls away, wiping your tears away. you sigh, shuddering slightly. “i- can’t get into that.” you murmured under your breath slightly. he nods, his face meeting your own. “i’m so ugly.” you cover your face, shying away from him. he instantly pulls you back. “no you aren’t. you’re beautiful. you are a thing of beauty. never once have i ever doubt that.” he kisses you cheeks, tracing down to your jaw. “i love you so much my beautiful baby.” he lies you down and wipes the rest of your tears away. his tender hand meeting your worn out face. “you don’t need to tell me anything, okay? but i’d love to know.” he kisses your jaw continuously. “you are ok, i promise baby.” he whispers to you. “i’ll tell the guys to save food for you, okay?” you nod weakly, your hand interlocking with his own. your thumb rubbing on the back of his hand. his gaze being a soft, reassuring one.

♡ nick: you felt uneasy, you were feeling everything but yourself. nick was coming back from the gym as this panic rises in your chest. you feel the heat in your face become unbearable, overwhelming, and started to cry. you began to weep and weep quietly from how overwhelmed you were. you felt so hot and itchy and crazy. you tried to pull your hair back away from your face and couldn’t process anything properly. you chewed on your bottom lip as you began to sob. as the front door jingles, a familiar key sound following it. you recollect yourself and try to stand up, your body lying on the cold floor in the living room. the door opens and nicks eyes are instantly on you. “babe?” he drops his gym bag instantly. closing the door behind him and locking it right after. he rushes towards you and brings you to your feet, instantly falling into his arms. “hey hey hey! what’s up.” he asks worryingly, seating you two on the couch. you crawl close. as close as you can get to him. “i’m so sorry.” you sob into his shoulder as he shushes you. “you have nothing to be sorry for, look at me honey.” your breath hitching as you pull away to look at him.

“what happened, baby? tell me.” his eyes softening. “i- i feel really overwhelmed. i feel so itchy and hot and i can’t breath!” you exclaim, tugging as your shirt. he nods as he pulls your hair back for you with his steadier hands. “this heat getting to you, my dear?” he smiles weakly at you as you nod, clipping your hair back to keep off your face. “i’m sorry this heat is getting to you my pretty baby.” he kisses your temple and his hands envelope yours. “despite this heat, you look iridescent in my eyes.” he coos sweetly as you huff, looking away. “you must’ve felt so weak, i’m sorry honey. next time ill leave the ac cooler for you.” he rocks you back and forth, lifting the back of your shirt up to get some cool air up your shirt. “let’s get you in a thinner and shorter shirt, ok? this long sleeve might be getting to you.” he gestures you to stand with him and you nod. “i’ll always be here to help you, always.”

♡ blake: you reach out to yumi, shaking him awake. it was rather late and you felt like your head was gonna explode. “hmm—.. ugh, fuck.” he groans, bitterness taking his tone. “blake!” you stammer out weakly. his eyes shooting open. “what..” he groans groggily. sitting up. he turns to you and see your eyes welling up. “babe? the fuck happened?” his mouth getting the best of him. you stutter out what the dream was about as you fiddled with your hands anxiously. he nods as he takes your hands into his and uses his thumbs to caress the backs of your hands. “i’m so sorry you had to see that, baby.” he frowns slightly as he kisses your forehead, decorating your face in kisses. you let a few tears fall as he hums gently. “ahh don’t cry now, okay? you’re strong.” he grunts, squeezing your hands. “you are stronger than you know.” he looks at you, a small smile on his face. “you are so strong, babe. don’t let some dream take over that.” he kisses you once more but it’s tickled with passion. you feel your eyes soften as you melt into his kiss. you fall back onto the pillow, yumi hovering over you. his hands still in your grasp, his face heating up. “seeing you like this hurts me too. my strong baby getting fucked up by a dream? i won’t let it happen again. not on my watch.” he kisses your jaw gently, slowly tracing to your neck. you whimper softy as yumi smirks, chucking slightly. he lifts his head to to make eye contact with you. his eyes half lidded, barely opened. his gaze a mix with sleepiness and lust slightly. “i can make you forget that dream.” he offers with a grin. you giggle as you push him slightly. “stoppp..” you groan, yumi chuckling. “you strong, baby. you are so smart and loving. don’t loose that vision because of a bad dream.. i love you.”

#isaacwhy #softwilly #larrycroft #yumi #yumimain #bigt #isaacwhy x reader #softwilly x reader #larrycroft x reader #yumi x reader #bigt x reader #the group chat #tgc #the group x reader #the group chat x reader #tgc x reader #smut #gender neutral reader

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chaoticrockmusic · 26 days ago

Text

Worlds Apart, Minds Connected

Synopsis; After a mission goes disastrously wrong, you and Charles are separated, trapped in an unstable facility with only a telepathic link to guide you back to each other. As he navigates you through the darkness, your minds grow closer in ways neither of you expected, creating a bond that will be hard to let go once you finally reunite. The question lingers: will the connection forged in crisis survive beyond the danger?

Warnings; None but kissing the LOVELY James McAvoy uggghhhhh-

Requested by @kaley612!

The last thing you remember is Charles shouting your name before the explosion. The impact threw you back, slamming you against something hard and cold. Dazed and aching, you pushed yourself up, trying to make sense of the chaos around you. Dust settled like snowflakes, a reminder of the blast that had ripped through the building.

The connection flares to life—a warmth, gentle and insistent, nudging at the edges of your mind.

“Can you hear me?”

Charles’s voice is like a balm, familiar and grounding. Relief floods through you as you close your eyes, focusing on that connection.

“Yes, I’m here,” you answer, your mental voice steadier than you feel.

“Are you hurt?”

You swallow, taking quick stock. A few bruises, a splitting headache, but nothing broken. “I’ll survive. What about you?”

“Just a scratch,” he says, though you sense he is holding back. “Listen, we’re separated. I can’t get to you from where I am—there’s debris blocking my path. But I’ll guide you. If we keep this link open, I can see what you see. All you have to do is keep going. Can you do that?”

Your heart pounds, but Charles’s steady presence brings an odd calm over you. “I trust you.”

And, for a beat, there’s silence. You feel a brush of something—warmth, reassurance, and a trace of something deeper that he quickly shields.

“Then let’s go,” he says, his voice like a hand reaching through the darkness.

You stand and begin to move, Charles’s presence a constant pulse in your mind. Each step is careful, shadows twisting as you make your way down the broken hallways, Charles murmuring directions and gentle encouragements, his voice steady even when your path grows perilous. If you could be with him right now, you'd kiss him. As a thank you of course. Nothing more.

“You’re doing well,” he says softly, his tone dipped in admiration. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Somehow, with him there—though only in your mind—it feels true.

"Thank you, Charles. Where do I go now?"

"Charles?" Your heart dropped before you heard him again.

"I'm here, I'm here. Just... Do you really want to thank me with a kiss?"

Huh. Shit.

You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks as his question settles in.

“I… thought you couldn’t see thoughts I didn’t direct to you,” you stammer, trying to push the words out as smoothly as possible.

There’s a soft chuckle on his end, warm and teasing. “That’s true… unless you think it loudly.”

You huff, half-embarrassed, half-defiant. His voice is quieter now, almost reverent. “I’m waiting.”

With renewed determination, you make your way down the dark hallway, Charles guiding you through each step and turn until you see the faint light of an exit. Your heart races, each footfall bringing you closer to him. And then, just as you round a corner, there he is, waiting—dust-covered, scratched, but alive and whole.

Without thinking, you run to him, and he opens his arms, catching you before you even realize you’ve thrown yourself into his embrace. His hands settle around you, firm and reassuring, as he lets out a sigh of relief that mirrors your own.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you press a kiss to his lips, a gesture of thanks, of everything left unsaid. Charles freezes for a fraction of a second, then responds, his lips gentle but warm against yours, his hands cradling you like something he never intends to let go.

When you pull back, breathless and unsure, he offers a small, tender smile. “I think we both needed that.”

“Maybe so," you whisper, a smile breaking through your own exhaustion.

And as you stand there, safe and together, the unspoken promise of something more lingers between you, fragile but very, very real.

(JAMES MCAVOY JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE-)

Plz do not copy or translate! -Callme_Bunni

#x men #x men fanfiction #x men movies #female writers #writing #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier #Charles #Xavier #x men x reader #x men first class #x men days of future past #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy #x men apocalypse #callme_bunni

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 3 months ago

Text

breathe

pair: Walker Scobell x reader

summary: Walker helps y/n(she/her) through an anxiety/panic attack

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she clutched her script. It was just another day on the set of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but today felt different. The voices, the people, the bright lights—it was all starting to press in on her, making it hard to think. Her chest tightened, and she felt that familiar, unwelcome sensation of panic creeping up.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get ready for the next scene!” a voice boomed from somewhere off to her left.

Y/N nodded to no one in particular, forcing her feet to move toward her designated spot. She needed to pull it together. She had to. But her breathing was shallow, and her vision blurred slightly at the edges. She could feel the walls closing in, even though they were outdoors. Her heart raced faster than ever, and the script slipped from her trembling hands.

She glanced around, hoping no one would notice the panic that was clawing at her insides. They didn’t know—no one knew about her anxiety. She wanted to keep it that way. But the noise was getting louder, and her head felt like it was spinning. She had to get out of here before she completely lost it in front of everyone.

“Y/N?” a soft voice asked, cutting through the fog in her mind.

She turned her head and saw Walker standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed with concern. She tried to muster a smile, but it came out weak and shaky.

“Hey,” she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.

Walker’s eyes flickered to her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. Without a word, he stepped closer and gently took her arm, guiding her away from the bustling set. She didn’t resist. In fact, she was grateful. He led her around a corner, behind one of the trailers, where it was quieter. The noise of the set was just a dull hum now, barely audible.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Walker said softly, his voice calm and steady. He held her hands, rubbing his thumbs over the back of them soothingly. “Just focus on breathing, okay? In and out.”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes and trying to match her breathing to his words. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, the tightness in her chest began to ease. She focused on the feeling of Walker’s hands holding hers, grounding her.

“Thank you,” she whispered after a few moments, her voice steadier now.

Walker gave her a small smile, still holding her hands. “You don’t have to thank me. I saw you and just… I knew you needed a minute. Is this… does this happen often?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sometimes. I just… I get overwhelmed, and it’s like my brain can’t handle everything all at once.”

Walker nodded, his expression understanding. “It’s okay. I get it. You don’t have to explain. Just know that if you ever need to get away, I’m here. I’ll help, no questions asked.”

Y/N felt a rush of gratitude toward him. It was rare for her to find someone who understood, who didn’t ask a million questions or make her feel like a burden. “Thank you, Walker. Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

He squeezed her hands gently. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right? We look out for each other. And besides, I kind of like being your secret getaway buddy.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound easing the last of the tension in her chest. “Well, you’re doing a great job.”

Walker grinned. “Come on. Let’s take a few more minutes, then we’ll head back. No rush.”

#isaacismyhusbandeventhohedoesntknowityet #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #walker scobell x reader #walker scobell x you #walker scobell x y/n #walker scobell imagine #walker scobell x reader fluff #walker scobell #walker scobell fluff

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circus4apsycho8 · 1 month ago

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knife to meet you. | cole x reader | chapter ii

A/N: Hello??? An update for a series that took me less than six months to write???? Let's go!

So, we've got girl bonding this chapter as well as our first impromptu job with the ninja :) Also I think this story is going to be longer than 3 parts.

Anyways, please enjoy!

Masterlist for this Fic

Word Count: 8.6k

“Alright,” Cole says, offering his hand out to you. “May I?”

You send him a questioning glance, but place your hand in his anyway. His palms are warm, knuckles sprinkled with callouses. Similar to but fainter than the dragons, you feel a weak energy thrumming underneath his skin.

He secures a grip around your hand, turning you towards the saddle. With his free hand, he jerks on a thick loop of leather hanging off of the side. “You can step on this little loop right here. Once you’re up, use the grips on the front to haul yourself up. Don’t worry about falling; I’ll be here to spot you. Use my shoulder if you need to.”

“Alright...” you mumble, glancing towards the loop he mentioned. Your free hand moves to latch onto one of the spare grips on the side, your grip on his hand tightening as you pull yourself onto the side of the dragon. Once you’re steady, you release his hand and locate the grips he’d mentioned. You hoist yourself over, muscles straining as you pull yourself up. Finally, you’re high enough to swing a leg around to mount the dragon.

“Woah,” you mumble, gasping when Rocky stirs underneath you. “Okay, I’m good...I think.”

“I know, it’s a weird adjustment,” Cole sympathizes, skillfully mounting the dragon in one clean step. For a moment, you find your cheeks warming as he settles in front of you, closer than you’d expected.

He reaches for the reins in front of him, causing Rocky to stand at attention. Your hands immediately fall to the scales of the dragon, searching for somewhere to hold onto.

“Okay. You’ll have to hold on to me. If the wind gets to be too much, then you’re welcome to use my back as a shield.”

“Oh...alright,” you mumble, arms hesitating as you wonder how you should hold him. After a moment of debating, you awkwardly circle your arms around the middle of his torso, doing your best to avoid his healing wound. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” he confirms, glancing over at the others. Everyone else seems to be ready to go; the ninjas all have their hoods flipped up. The dragons growl in anticipation, with Wisp being the most antsy. Upon checking the others, Cole raises his voice so the others can hear: “Alright, guys, let’s go!”

“Last one there is the worst ninja!” Jay yells just before Wisp darts into action, his wings flapping chilly gusts of wind in your direction. A shiver wracks your spine as your grip around Cole’s waist tightens.

Cole’s shoulders shake with a chuckle as the other two follow Jay, dragons roaring once they’re airborne.

“We’re going to take it slow,” Cole says. “Alright, Rocky. To the monastery.”

Rocky’s wings start to flap, and true to Cole’s word, he starts elevating slowly. Suddenly feeling off-balance, you lean further into Cole without thinking about it.

“Whoa!” you say, heart racing as the dragons ascend. The shop grows smaller with every beat of Rocky’s wings, and the crowd around the store stares up at the beasts with the same awe you had earlier.

“You okay?” Cole calls back as the dragon starts cruising forward, gradually building up speed. You notice that the others are drifting far ahead, hollering at each other.

“Yeah, just nervous. And a little unsteady,” you admit, looping your fingers together. You scoot up a little farther, finally feeling a little steadier even though you’re basically pressed against Cole. He doesn’t seem to mind, much to your relief.

“We’ll take it slow until you feel more comfortable with it.”

You peer over the edge of the dragon, stomach lurching at the height you’re at. The sight makes your grip on the ninja tighten. You elect not to look down anymore, instead peeking over Cole’s shoulder.

The skyline of Ninjago City is splayed before you, your heart stuttering at the view. The windows of the taller buildings seem to sparkle in the morning light, while your mind envisions what it might be like to live there someday. What would it be like waking up to such a view every morning?

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” comes Cole’s voice, eyes staring in the same direction. “I hope we can start taking missions there too one day.”

Despite the longing to visit the city, Cole passes it and continues straight ahead. You feel a little bit steadier now, loosening your grip on Cole as you stare ahead.

“Where do you take missions, then?” you wonder.

“Well, we just got out of training, so we haven’t had much time to complete anything yet. We went on a quest to find the Golden Weapons, which took us all across Ninjago. We’ve had a few run-ins with Lord Garmadon’s skeleton army, but we haven’t seen much of them since we left the Underworld.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You shake your head, unable to believe what you’d just heard. “You went to the Underworld?!”

Cole nods. “Yep. Turns out, dragons can ferry between realms. We had to go in order to find Sensei Wu; he vanished after helping Kai and Nya escape Garmadon.”

You pause in order to process what you’ve been told. The Underworld. What did you get yourself into?

The black ninja chuckles. “Yeah, I know. It’s unbelievable. But we made it through, somehow. And now we’ve just been taking jobs for petty criminals in the meantime.”

“I see,” you say, spotting a group of mountains in the distance. Atop the tallest one is...

“There’s the monastery,” Cole confirms. “We’re going to land at the back so we can let the dragons rest. Just wait for me to dismount first so I can help you down.”

“Got it,” you acknowledge, spying a set of stairs cascading down from the door. Are they supposed to climb that many steps every time?! “Why’s it on the tallest mountain? Do you guys always climb all those stairs?”

“We usually travel with our dragons, but sometimes, yeah. It’s a great rock-climbing mountain, though.”

Great! First, ninjas throwing themselves in the face of danger for fun, and now a ninja who also enjoys rock climbing. You certainly have your work cut out for you. “Of course you rock climb. As if one dangerous hobby isn’t enough. Tell me that you at least use...I don’t know, a harness or something, right?”

"Why would I do that?”

“Because there’s not much I can do for you if you fall and your body splatters across the earth like a water balloon!” you retort.

“Stars, that’s graphic. But you make a convincing point. I’ll look into it.”

The conversation comes to a stop as he approaches the monastery, guiding Rocky towards a gated cavern embedded within the mountain. The ninja steer their dragons into the cave, jumping off one by one.

Cole follows suit, allowing Rocky to land on the edge and carry you both into the shade underneath the cave. The sudden absence of sunlight beckons goosebumps from your skin. Rocky hobbles in next to the other dragons, letting Cole reattach the reins to the front of the saddle.

You withdraw your hands from his torso, watching as he swivels his right leg over, jumping off skillfully and leaving you shivering without his body heat. With his back turned to you, he stretches his arms out.

It’s all you can do to glance away, cheeks warming at the sight of his muscles. That sleeveless gi suits him a little too well.

“Ugh...I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” he mumbles, spinning back around. “Okay, ready?”

“I guess...” You swing your right leg back over the dragon, noting how Rocky crouches to help close the height gap. Still, it’s a decent height to jump down from.

“I got you,” Cole assures, holding his arm out. “Just brace yourself and go for it!”

“Okay...” you take a deep breath before sliding off. Your legs suddenly feel numb, causing you to stumble when you hit the ground.

Cole manages to catch you before you go tumbling to the ground, thankfully. “Woah! You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry...I came down faster than I thought,” you admit with a nervous chuckle. You brace yourself on his arms, the blush on your cheeks eroding the wind-stained numbness on your skin as you hold onto him to balance yourself. “Also, my legs are shaking.”

He laughs, letting you hang onto him while you steady yourself. “I know how you feel. I used to be scared of dragons, and my first ride was, well...rough, to say the least. The adrenaline you get from your first ride takes everything out of you.”

“You were scared of dragons?” you wonder, willing your knees not to wobble and give out. Your heart continues to race, skin still stinging from the wind.

“Yeah, before we met these guys, I couldn’t stand them. I also just don’t like being in the air – unless I’m rock climbing. But clearly, I had a change of heart,” he mumbles, smiling softly at Rocky before shifting his attention to the items strapped to the dragon. “Alright, we’ll go ahead and get this unloaded for you.”

You watch as he and Kai start unbuckling the cords, frowning as they begin unloaded. You don’t think his cut will reopen, but you’d rather him hold off on heavy lifting for a few days. “Hey, don’t strain yourself with the lifting. I’m going to be pissed if I have to waste a dose of Mystake’s special solution on closing your wound again.”

Your comment makes the two laugh, their voices bouncing off of the cavern walls. Cole snickers, shaking his head as he turns back to you.

“You are so mean,” he says, frowning in mock offense and gesturing towards the pile of luggage. “This isn’t even heavy for me!”

Zane steps around Rocky with Sensei Wu, offering a polite smile to you. “We will ensure he does not strain his injury.”

“Come,” Sensei Wu says, gesturing for you to follow him. “I will have Nya show you around the monastery while the ninja unload and set the dragons up for the night. Please, follow me.”

The elderly man pivots, staff gently crunching on the dirt as he makes his way to a staircase carved in the mountain. When you step out of the cavern’s protective walls, the wind returns to your face, stinging your skin once more.

A breath dies in your throat when you see just how high up you are; the fact that there’s no railing on the sides of the mountain makes you queasy. Regardless, you follow Sensei Wu, making sure to stick as close to the mountain as you can.

”This monastery has been home to me ever since I was a boy,” Sensei Wu explains, voice cutting through the wind. “It’s been standing for thousands of years and has seen generations of elemental masters.”

“So much history…” you mutter, tracing the side of the mountain with your hand. How many people have walked this path before you?

Thankfully, the path veers to the left and away from the edge, vertigo fading from your body. Now, you’re positioned at the top of the mountain, just before the monastery doors.

What startles you most is just how quiet it is up here; there are no merchants advertising their products, no bikers running about, no customers running to and fro. All you can hear are the distant yells of the ninja and the wind blowing through the trees.

“It’s so quiet up here,” you note, watching as Wu uses the steel bar welded on the gate to knock.

The old man chuckles, standing back and leaning on his staff. “Yes, and for good reason. Though, I understand it must be an adjustment after being a village for some time.”

”Yeah, it’s definitely going to take some getting used to,” you note, turning around as the two of you wait. “But I don’t hate it. It’s a nice break.”

To the left of the entrance lies a small patch of forest, its leaf canopy rustling with the wind. The trees sway, offering you a view deeper within.

To your surprise, a woman stands amidst the overgrowth. She stares at you with a blank expression, unmoving as her dress fails to react to the breeze. Her dark hair is pinned up loosely, also seemingly too still for the weather. You frown, wondering if you should call out to her. Did Wu not see her? Why didn’t she greet him?

Metallic groaning snaps you out of your trance, making you spin towards the gate. The doors are swinging open, revealing a new girl.

Her dark hair is cut into a bob, framing a pair of eyes that remind you of Kai’s. The girl lights up when she sees Wu. Behind her is a courtyard that precedes the interior part of the monastery.

“Sensei, you’re back!” she cries, pushing the gates all the way open. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Nya, everything is fine. The ninja are in the dragon keep, unloading. We’ll update you in just a moment.”

So this is Nya. You frown, eyes darting back to where the woman was, finding that she’s gone now.

Shivers erupt across your skin as Sensei continues talking with Nya. You shake it off, deciding to just ignore…whatever that was.

“We have a new addition to the team,” Sensei Wu says, catching your attention once again as he tells Nya your name. “She is our new medic. She was an apprentice of Mystake before she agreed to come work with us.”

Nya grins, breathing what sounds to be a sigh of relief as she waves at you. “A medic, huh? That’s a relief. Those idiots are gonna need one if they keep being as reckless as they have been. Regardless, it’s great to meet you! I’m really excited that I won’t be the only girl around here. The testosterone gets to be suffocating at points!”

Returning her friendly little wave, you grin. “It’s good to meet you too! And I’ve been around them long enough to know that I have my work cut out for me.”

”Would you please show her around?” Sensei Wu questions, shifting the staff between hands. “I need to take care of a few matters before the day ends.”

Nya nods, gesturing for you to follow her. “You got it, Sensei.”

“Thank you. The ninja should be up shortly with her belongings.” He glances at you for the next part. “Please, make yourself at home.”

You nod, smiling gratefully. “Thank you, Sensei.”

“I leave the rest to you, Nya,” Sensei says before making his way out of the gate.

You follow Nya through the clearing, listening as she tells you about the monastery. “Alright, so this is obviously the courtyard! There’s a little switch around here that reveals an obstacle course that we use for training…”

The courtyard is first. Nya shows you the obstacle course, noting that they mostly train in the courtyard. Next are the basic utility rooms - the kitchen, living room, et cetera. She shows you the ninja’s shared room, the bathrooms, and finally, her room.

“Last but not least, here’s my room. Though, I guess it’ll be our room now,” she muses, pushing the door open. You step inside, greeted by lovely red and blue themed decor with light accents of gold in places.

”Sorry that it’s kind of messy,” she mutters, kicking a piece of scrap metal to the side. “There’s not much space for us to tinker in. Sensei is still looking into getting me, Jay, and Zane a place for us to tinker, but we haven’t had much luck with that yet.”

You wave off her worry, instead curious about the contents of her room. “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting anyone. But you build things?” you inquire, entering the space. A warm cinnamon scent drifts through the air, strong but not overpowering. One part of her room sports a desk with trinkets, mechanical bits, tools, and circuit boards scattered about.

She nods, passion glittering behind her amber eyes as she points towards the components on her desk. “Yeah! I like making new tech, whether they’re weapons, armor, robots…anything I can think of, really. Jay’s kind of the same, to be honest. Zane’s also handy with tools, so we’ve been collaborating on some blueprints lately. I hope we can get the time to work on some bigger projects soon,” she explains, pointing to a pile of blueprints stashed in the corner.

“That’s so cool,” you respond. “I don’t know anything about that stuff. It’s cool you guys can work on it together.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun,” she says, pausing in front of her bed. Her hands come to her hips as she surveys the area with a frown. “I guess we’ll have to figure out sleeping arrangements tonight. But we can deal with that later. Hopefully later on we can go shopping to find you some furniture. Then, we can change up the room format and split it evenly.”

You nod, wondering if she’s upset about having to share her already cramped space. “Yeah…um, I hope I’m not intruding or anything.”

Nya swivels to you with a grin. “Oh, no, not at all! Like I said, I’m really glad you’re here. We’re just going to have to do a little reorganizing. I can probably make an area outside for my stuff. But, please, don’t worry about that. You’re not intruding at all.”

You nod, knowing you’re probably just overthinking things. “Okay, I hope not. But that does remind me…does anyone else live here?”

”Nope, just the guys, me, and Sensei. And now you,” she answers.

Hm…no mention of that lady from earlier. Strange. You shake that thought off, about to ask her something else when the slamming of a distant door catches your attention.

“The guys are back,” she notes, tipping her head towards the door. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re up to.”

…

The first few days go by without a hitch; Nya sets up a spot for you in her room, the two of you agreeing to work on reorganizing over the next few weeks. That gives the two of you a good chunk of time to plan it out.

You check on Cole’s wound two more times, pleased with its progress. On day three of your stay with the ninja, you dryly advise him not to get stabbed again and officially “discharge” him from your care. For now, at least.

Other than that, work in terms of your job is slow. The ninja seem to be cutting back on training with the lack of missions. You’d hoped to watch them spar a bit more, but to no avail.

That is, except for Jay - you notice that he sneaks out to the courtyard at night sometimes to practice sparring by himself. You wonder if it has something to do with the night you met the ninja.

Your first five days end without a hitch. Over breakfast on the sixth and current day of your stay, Nya agrees with your initial observation about their lack of training: “Yeah, I think they’re kind of getting complacent. Jobs are dry right now, and they’re getting bored. So they’ve been turning to video games a lot.”

You frown over your beverage, tearing your gaze from the window. The small dining room in the monastery glows with morning light, wind rattling the ancient building. Still, quiet surrounds you. You’ve yet to grow used to it. “Didn’t they get a call this morning, though?”

“They did. There was a Lord Garmadon sighting,” she answers, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. “They’re going to learn, one way or another. They’ve got to keep in top shape if they’re going to be heroes.”

Your fingers freeze in their tracks, wondering if what Nya says is true. “Lord Garmadon? He’s back?”

Nya shrugs, taking another sip of her coffee. “Honestly? I doubt it. A lot of these people jump to conclusions when they get spooked. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was something stupid. But, telling the guys that it was Lord Garmadon certainly got them off their asses in a pinch. You should have seen the way they tripped over themselves trying to get ready.”

You chuckle, liking her point. “Smart. Hopefully this will get them back into the groove.”

Nya rubs her forehead, sighing. “Stars, I hope so. They’re driving me insane. Anyways, what are you doing today?”

“Um…I haven’t actually thought that far. I guess I need to stay close in case they get hurt, though.”

“Want to come to the courtyard with me? I try to get my daily exercise in when they’re not using the equipment. I’m also determined to beat Kai’s record, even if it kills me!”

…

Nya wasn’t lying when she said she’d beat her brother’s record, even if it meant death.

No matter how many times she was knocked down, no matter how many times she finished above his time…she picked herself back up and tried again. The passion you’d seen in her eyes about her craft hardened into something fiery and stubborn when it came to competition.

Perhaps Kai isn’t the only one with a temper around here.

Even so, the first few times she stumbles, you can’t help but check on her. She shakes the cuts and bruises off without issue, promising to let you have a look at them later. It amazes you how well she brushes off the pain; some of her landings looked rough. In fact, you find her toughness inspirational, in a way.

Despite this, you had kindly declined joining her, instead electing to watch her from the stairs while brainstorming some potential recipes for new potions. You’d have to get some special ingredients, but it would be worth experimenting with new ingredients.

Not to mention that you’re itching to explore the area around your new home, curious to find what other places are nearby.

Thankfully, Nya seems to be on the same page as you. After she picks herself up from her latest fall, she takes a moment to stretch and catch her breath, groaning when she sees the timer again.

“I’m so close!” she groans, shaking her arms. “But I’m getting frustrated. And hungry. Tell you what…let me do one last round for my cooldown, then we’ll go grab lunch at Jamanakai Village. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you reply, shutting your notebook.

“Great. Shouldn’t take but a minute,” she says, returning to the rotating course with dummies on it.

As she’s running, voices emanate from the front of the courtyard. You turn, watching as the ninja pour in from the gate. To your relief, they look fine. No visible injuries, no grimaces or pained expressions. So that’s a good sign.

Instead, a renewed vigor emanates within the four as they approach the two of you. Cole catches your gaze, answering your unspoken question:

”We’re fine. It was a false alarm.”

Whew. “Okay, good. I’m glad.”

Upon hearing their voices, Nya gets distracted and tumbles to the ground yet again, grunting when she lands. Kai laughs at her while Jay pulls up his hood, hovering over her with a shy smile. “Hey, Nya. Closer to beating your brother’s speed record?”

“I’m getting there,” she mumbles with a grunt, thanking Jay softy when he helps her up. “So, just a false alarm?”

Kai steps up this time. “Yeah. Uh, but we’re gonna need the space. Sorry, sis. Wanna stay and watch me mop the floor with them?”

She rolls her eyes, coming to join your side. “No thanks. We’re heading to Jamanakai Village for a couple of hours. Knock yourselves out.”

“No stab wounds, please,” you encourage, offering the guys a thumbs-up.

Kai punches Cole in the shoulder with a wicked grin. “No promises, doc. We’re in it to win it today.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you guys are actually training again,” Nya responds. “Anyways, let’s get going.”

…

The walk to Jamanakai isn’t terribly long, if you take out the immense number of stairs you have to descend before that. Other than that, it’s not horrible. You’re just not looking forward to going back up.

Nya brings you to a cute, cozy local restaurant that isn’t too busy. The two of you talk about your respective interests for a little while, eventually shifting into how you met the ninja.

Lunch ends up being great, and she insists on paying for the meal as a way to celebrate your arrival. Once you’re done eating, the two of you end up looking around the market together, pointing out potential furniture you could get in the future or discussing ideas for splitting the room.

You’re also able to find a few ingredients. You buy them with the money you made while working at the shop, excited to try out your ideas. Satisfied with your haul, you tuck them away within a satchel secured by your waist.

A breeze flutters past the two of you, rustling your clothes. When it hits Nya’s dark hair, it tousles, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, she swipes it out of her face with a small but content grin.

“It’s so good to get out,” Nya comments as the two of you approach a produce stand. “I think I was going a little stir-crazy at the monastery. It’ll be nice to have company now, when they’re off on missions or whatever.”

You’re about to ask her a follow up question when you hear someone screaming in the distance. Alarmed, you and Nya whip around to see what the commotion is about.

Nya scoffs, eyes narrowing as she scans the area. “What now?!”

From a nearby building, you spot a child pushing a cart filled with candy into the streets. His small figure is enveloped within a dark cloak as he snickers, yelling: “Take the candy! Take it all! Muahahaha!”

That in itself isn’t what’s threatening; it’s the uncannily large anthropomorphic snake people that follow the boy that make your heart skip a beat. More and more snakes emerge from the other side of the village.

Nya snatches your wrist, pulling both of you behind the produce stand. The spaces between the bins offer a view to what’s happening beyond, with you and Nya straining to see what’s going on.

“Serpentine?!” Nya whispers harshly, both of you watching as a larger snake appears, staring at one of the villagers. “How did they escape their tombs?”

The largest snake hisses at a small group of villagers. Its scales are dark blue, lined with yellow accents on their heads. His bright red eyes pierce the villagers’ collective gazes, and you find yourself having to glance away. Dizziness overcomes you as you shake yourself out of your trance.

What was that?

“They’re controlling the villagers,” Nya realizes as the villagers scatter, walking and groaning like zombies. “Wait…they’re coming close. Stay still!”

You and Nya press yourselves against the stand, trying to be as still and quiet as possible when two new voices emerge:

“This makes no sense, General. Raiding an entire town for sweets?!”

“You will do as I command, because I hold the staff!” the other one demands. Sure enough, in his grasp is a golden staff carved into the shape of a Serpentine. In the center rests a blue…gem? You’re not quite sure what it is.

Thankfully, the two pass the spot where you’re hiding with Nya, instead electing to terrorize some other poor villager.

“Dammit,” Nya mumbles. “They’re everywhere. There are too many to take on at once. We have to wait for the ninja to arrive.”

“Do you think they’ve been contacted yet?” you wonder, heart pounding as you hear people screaming nearby.

“I’m sure someone in the village managed to get word out. Come on, let’s see if there’s something we can do. Maybe we can get to higher ground for a better vantage point.”

She pauses, stepping out from beyond the cover of the produce stand. After a few seconds, she nods in your direction and darts out into the clearing.

You follow her, heart thumping as your legs burn and shake with adrenaline. The screaming grows quieter by the second, instead replaced with the eerie groans of the hypnotized villagers. Everywhere you look, people with blood red eyes are wandering.

“This way,” Nya directs, causing you to snap your head towards her. She points towards a ladder, gesturing for you to go first. “Go!”

You waste no time in ascending, muscles burning as you pull yourself up, hands starting to sweat when you manage to pull yourself over the roof. A grunt escapes you when you land less than ideally.

A concerning thunk from below catches your attention, making you peer over the edge. Your eyes widen when you realize Nya is now on the ground, a snake man looming above her.

“Nya!” you cry.

Your voice snatches the attention of her attacker, though. Like something primal overcomes her, you watch as something in Nya’s eyes snaps. She rolls onto her side, sweeping her leg out and knocking the Serpentine over.

The attack catches the attention of two other snakes, to your dismay. Nya yells as she launches a powerful front kick at one of them, driving her weight into the blow. He staggers back, clutching his abdomen as his friend advances on her.

“Look into my eyes,” it says, hissing. “I control you!”

Tearing your eyes from the scene, you spot a vase filled with dirt on the roof. You snatch it before hurling it down onto the Serpentine with a cry.

It smashes against the snake’s head, breaking the hypnotic stare. Ceramic chunks and dirt debris flutter to the ground as he clutches his head. Nya jerks herself back into the moment, scrambling to climb the ladder as the two snake men retreat in favor of the other villagers.

You help Nya onto the roof, struggling to catch your breath. “N-Nya!”

“I’m okay,” she breathes, sighing shakily. “Thanks for the assist back there.”

“What happened? One second you were below me…”

“...then one of them pulled me off the ladder,” she finishes, shaking her head. She swivels her head before beckoning you to follow her across the rooftop. “I’ve had worse. Come on, let’s see if we can help the villagers while we wait for the ninja. Do you have any thoughts on how to break their hypnosis?”

You trail off as she looks around, conflict etched onto both of your faces. Magic snake men that could hypnotize people were not included in your training.

“Well…it depends,” you say, glancing towards the chaos again. “I’m not really sure how those snakes are doing it. But if it’s some sort of chemical reaction, we could potentially reverse the effects if we had anti-venom. But I have no idea how we could get that. Maybe if I could get a sample of their blood, I could figure something out. That would take days, though.”

Nya trails off, contemplating your words as the two of you crouch down, out of view from below. “Anti-venom, you say? Hm…you know, when we were little, Kai and I had a babysitter that would tell us the story of the Serpentine. Or, at least the kid-friendly version. She mentioned that the snakes’ leader would bear a staff containing the anti-venom. The hero in the story did…something, with the staff. Something with water,” she frowns, wracking her memory with a frown. “And you heard those snakes, when we were hiding - the one with the long tail is the General. And he was carrying a staff.”

“A staff…and with water… ” a realization dawns on you as you trail off, remembering a potion that you made with Mystake years ago. “Wait, there’s a fountain in the village, right?”

“Yeah. It channels throughout the village-”

“We need to get that staff in the fountain,” you realize, eyes widening. “It’ll-”

The roar of a dragon interrupts you, snapping both of your attentions to the center of the village.

“The ninja!” Nya says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run. “Come on, we have to regroup and tell them!”

You nod, stomach growing queasy when she releases you. She leaps across one of the rooftops, crossing the gap with ease. It’s not too long of a gap, but the fall would still be gnarly. Thankfully, the adrenaline in your system and fear for the villagers’ wellbeing does wonders in shoving your fear to the side. Your running start gives you enough momentum to jump, managing the landing to the other rooftop.

Unlike the previous one, this roof is not flat. The shingles curve upwards at a decorative angle, converging into a triangular shape. Your foot lands at an awkward angle, making you tumble to the side. You gasp, desperately clawing at shingles as you start sliding.

Nya catches your bicep, stopping your fall. You sigh in relief, accepting her help when she pulls you to your feet.

“The guys are over there, taking cover,” she says, maintaining her hold on you. “Here, come on. Just one more jump down. You’re doing fine. Just follow me down after I go, okay?” She guides your hand to the elevated portion of the roof, waiting until you’re balanced to let go.

“Got it,” you say, watching as she skillfully leaps to the ground. Okay, you’re pretty sure you can’t do all that. Maybe there’s another way down?

Once you’re steady again, you manage to look over the edge. Nya is there, now surrounded by the ninja. They’re all masked, glancing back towards the Serpentine nervously.

“I can’t do this, Nya!” you say, heart skipping a beat when a shingle chips off and clatters to the ground. “That’s too high of a jump for me!”

Cole steps forward, raising his arms and beckoning you down. “Just step off. We’ll catch you.”

“Oh, man…” you mumble, gearing yourself up. You should probably take advantage of the adrenaline while it’s still here. “Okay, here I go. Just gonna do it.”

Thankfully, you commit to the fall, breath catching in your throat as you sail through the air. True to his word, Cole is there to break your fall, catching you by your waist. He staggers a bit, but regains his balance fairly quickly.

A secret shudder flutters across your skin when you realize he’s holding you by your waist, his eyes cast in worry as he studies you. Exhaling, you brace yourself on his shoulders, hands sliding down as he lowers you. Cole’s hands move to your elbows as you balance yourself.

“Are you okay?” he questions, letting you hang onto him for a second.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just too many adrenaline rushes for one week,” you mumble, finally feeling steady enough without his help. “Thank you.”

“You two are okay. Good,” Jay confirms, turning to Nya for an update.

“Barely. They’ve hypnotized everyone in town!” she says, rubbing a spot on her arm. You frown upon seeing the fresh bruise forming there, making a note to have a look at it later.

“Mind control. How is this possible?” Jay wonders as Kai peeks around the corner, ensuring that the coast is still clear for the moment.

“I think it’s some kind of chemical reaction. One that may or may not come from their eyes,” you chime in.

Nya nods in agreement, coming to stand next to you as she says: “When you hear them rattle their tails, don't look them in the eyes. That's how they get you.”

“We need to get that staff, the one that the biggest snake has,” you say. “We think it might hold the anti-venom. When you get it, stick it into the fountain. If we’re right, then the anti-venom and staff should react with the water to form a steam that will cure the villagers.”

“What if we’re wrong? We should go ahead and make a Plan B, just to be safe,” Nya points out.

“If that fails, try to cut one of the snakes and get a sample of their blood. I can probably make an anti-venom, but it’s going to take longer,” you instruct. “There’s a merchant selling glass jars nearby that you can use. Those should work if Plan A fails.”

“And if that fails, we have Plan Z,” Jay quips, eyes lighting up. “Which is way better, ‘cause it’s lemon scented.”

Nya shoots Jay a funny look as everyone else ignores him.

“I believe our plan is doable. But our weapons are unstable, and it will be difficult to retrieve the staff while dodging their attempts at hypnosis,” Zane says. “We must be careful.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Cole instructs. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Kai, Jay. You two draw the goons away. Once they’re gone, circle back discreetly if you can to help with the staff. Zane, I want you to deal with Lloyd. We might be able to…persuade him to call a retreat if we scare him into it. Nya and I will work on getting the staff. And as for you,” he turns to you, trailing off as he thinks. “Hang back and watch for anyone that might be injured once the fight is over.”

“Okay,” you agree, followed by everyone else’s voices confirming the plan.

“Good. Remember, no weapons. Spinjitzu should still be fine. I know that we’re rusty, guys, but we’ve got to get this done.”

Kai is the next to speak up, body jittery with the anticipation of a fight. “He’s right. Look, guys. Forget about the whole Green Ninja thing. Let's make Sensei proud, the four of us. We're a team!”

“Now you’re talking,” Cole replies. “Alright, guys. Let’s go!”

Nya hangs back momentarily as the guys spring into action on the roofs overhead. “Are you okay to stay behind?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, just focus on getting that staff,” you reply, not wanting to interfere with their work. She nods, darting off to follow the ninja.

It takes Kai and Jay a few minutes to lead the majority of the snakes away. Which ends up working out well, since it gives you a second to catch your breath. Look at you, riding on dragons and jumping across rooftops. A humorless laugh escapes you when you wonder how much wackier your life will get if you choose to stay with the ninja.

Ah, but no time to think about that now. The fighting seems to have moved to another part of the village, so you take the opportunity to move towards it. Slowly but surely, you make your way towards the action.

Eventually, you stumble upon the cart that the little boy had been pushing. It’s tipped onto its front, seemingly caused by the frozen front wheels. Its saccharine contents have been spilled onto the streets, and the boy is behind it, desperately trying to get it unstuck.

Zane, who had been standing nearby, darts away to help the others, leaving you alone with the child. Your heart breaks a little when you hear him sniffle, finally managing to break the cart out of the ice. What’s a kid doing out with these snakes anyway?

The boy turns the cart in your direction, freezing when he locks eyes with you. You frown, wondering if the snakes have hurt him.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, crouching down to his level.

His green eyes widen, filling with conflict as he stares at you. You wonder if the snakes had roped him into their plan somehow, desperately hoping they haven’t hurt the boy. For a handful of moments, he’s completely frozen.

“Please, let me help you,” you encourage, hoping you’re not scaring him.

Just when you think you might be getting through to him, something dark clouds his eyes as he darts towards one of the bigger snakes, shouting out for the army to retreat.

“Wait!” you cry, watching as the child slips behind one of the buildings. You attempt to follow, gasping when the army of hypnotized villagers lines up to block off part of the village.

Breath hitching in your throat, you glance through the sea of red eyes. To your left, Jay and Zane are fighting off some of the few remaining snakes. Leaping across the rooftops are Kai and Nya, both trying to circumvent the army of hypnotized people.

This…is chaos. Why doesn’t anything feel real right now?

Your adrenaline sputters out, weakness flooding you as voices emanate from behind you. Dizzy, you spin to find Cole sailing down in the air, delivering two swift kicks to the snake general’s staff. It bounces out of his grip, clattering to the ground as Cole flips into a smooth landing.

“Go ahead. Give me a reason,” Cole remarks, stepping towards the fallen staff and swiping it off of the ground. The lead snake flees in response to Cole’s advance.

The second-in-command is not so easily scared off; he catches Cole’s stare, trying to hypnotize him.

“Cole!” you yell, grateful to see Nya darting up from behind him. She jumps, jamming her foot into the snake’s face. The blow snaps Cole of his trance, making him shake his head as he staggers, staff still in hand.

Nya steadies him before directing him to the fountain, where he props it up in the water. Thankfully, the anti-venom reacts with the water and starts steaming as you’d hoped. One by one, the villagers are cured and the red eyes recede, mindless groans replaced by cheering.

…

Even though no one got hurt majorly, you still insist on getting the ninja patched up.

Kai and Jay are fine, save for a few scratches, cuts, and bruises. Jay accepts a pack of ice for a hit he took on his shoulder, which Nya applies as the two rest in the living room. Her left ankle is propped up on another chair, wrapped up in gauze.

She’d sprained it after getting jerked off that ladder. You couldn’t even tell anything was wrong until you noticed the swelling when she sat down.

Zane emerged the best out of all them, with only one minor cut to show for the battle. Though, you’d noticed something odd with his blood - you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the color seemed off somehow. With his permission, you took a sample of his blood to examine later.

Finally, Cole enters the medical room, which isn’t much at the moment - just a spare room in the monastery with a bed and your medical bag. You have a weird feeling you need to wait a few days to unpack it fully, so you’ve just been taking things out as you need them and repacking them. Mystake always did stress the importance of listening to your gut, after all, and you’re not one to doubt her wisdom. It hasn’t failed you so far.

Cole grunts as he lowers himself on the table, hissing in pain. Again, the top of his gi is torn in places. You can already see a little bit of blood staining the fabric.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I had a feeling you were going to be the one who got it the worst. What hurts the most?” you inquire, pulling on a pair of examination gloves.

Cole fumbles with the ties on his gi. “This cut right here…that asshole slashed me, then drew his katana back and rammed the hilt into my ribs.”

“Ouch…” you sympathize, observing his fingers. Something seems off about his motions. You notice how he misses the knot a few times. He gets it a few seconds later, though, unraveling the belt and pulling his top off.

Curse these biological hormones! You don’t think you’re ever going to get used to seeing his torso. He’s just the right amount of muscle. Your mind flashes back to the night where you’d accidentally left your hand on his sternum, the very tips of your fingers brushing against the side of his pec as you’d withdrawn.

Focus! Injured man! Job to do! Shut up, goblin brain.

Sure enough, when you focus past the gorgeous torso, you realize there’s a lengthy, diagonal cut in his skin.

“Yeah, that’s pretty gnarly,” you agree, immediately reaching for a clean cloth. Thankfully, it’s not terribly deep. What probably hurts more is that ugly, purple bruise underneath.

The two of you fall into a silence as you dab at the dried blood, hoping you’re not pressing too hard. Cole watches your hands as you work.

“Oh, um…I meant to tell you…” he trails off, expression conflicted momentarily. “You did really well, you know. That was your first time working with us in the field, and you handled yourself well. Didn’t panic, just acted.”

You chuckle, finally done with cleaning up the blood. “I’m glad I didn’t get in the way. I was scared, and my adrenaline kicked in initially, but when I faded, I just…it felt like nothing was real, you know? It was almost like I was going into shock or something.”

“The chaos gets to you when you’re not used to it,” he agrees, wincing as you apply an antiseptic to the cut. “There’s so much going on, and it’s difficult to keep up when you’re not trained for it. But you and Nya came up with a solution, and we got the job done.”

“If I was that overwhelmed just watching you guys fight, I can’t imagine what it’s like actually being in the action,” you say, pausing when he hisses at the dab of antiseptic. “I’m sorry, I know it stings, but we’ve got to get this sterilized. Can’t have it getting infected and creating more work for me.”

He chuckles, the two of you watching as the solution sizzles on the opened skin. When he looks up, you catch his stare, immediately frowning.

Cole’s eyes are their normal shade of green, but his sclera are tinged slightly red. You frown, free hand unconsciously coming to the side of his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” you wonder, studying his eyes as he stares at you. First, his off hand coordination. Now, the bloodshot eyes…

“Yeah, why?” he questions as you return your stare to the task at hand.

“I don’t know yet. Did you hit your head at any point?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Do you feel like you might be getting sick?”

“No, I’m just tired. But other than that I feel fine.”

“Okay,” you say, unconvinced as you press your wrist against his forehead. No fever. Maybe you’d just have the others keep an eye on him throughout the night to see if any other symptoms arise. “Doesn’t feel like you have a fever. Just try to get some good sleep tonight, okay? You look a little peaked.”

“I do? Weird…I feel fine.”

“I believe you. Just make sure you rest tonight. I’m going to check on you in the morning to see if you develop any other symptoms. But for now, what else hurts?”

Cole has a few other cuts for you to sterilize and bandage along with a handful of new bruises. You prepare an ice pack for the bigger, uglier bruises.

You sigh, mind shifting back to that little boy you’d seen with the serpentine. The fact he’s out there alone with them bothers you. “Do you know who that little kid was, by the way? The boy with the cloak?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Lloyd?”

“Lloyd,” you repeat, frowning. “So you know him?”

“Not officially, just that he’s Sensei Wu’s nephew. He used to go to Darkley’s, but he escaped somehow. He’s Lord Garmadon’s son.”

“Whoa, really? I never would have guessed,” you mumble, putting the finishing touches on his wound dressings. “I hope those snakes aren’t hurting him. He seemed scared.”

Cole groans in relief when he presses the ice pack against the bruise. “Scared? He’s the one who released them.”

Lloyd set the snakes free? “Wait, really?”

“He’s trying to be like his dad. The only thing is, Lloyd’s idea of evil is stealing candy and pulling pranks on people. He doesn’t understand what the snakes really want.”

Poor kid...you wonder if Wu would take him in if given the chance. That’s no way for a child to live. Those snakes are going to manipulate him the first chance they get.

“Do you think they’re hurting him?” Cole questions when you don’t answer.

“I don’t know…I just - there was something in his eyes. I think he’s scared, and it breaks my heart knowing he’s out there with them,” you sigh, shaking your head as you clean up the counter. Cole slips off from the bed, keeping the ice on his chest.

“Well, I’ll see if we can get him to Sensei, then. Makes me wonder if we should have been gentler with him when we dealt with him the first time.”

Satisfied with his answer, you smile in thanks before remembering Cole’s mystery ailment. “But, as far as you go, I want you to go to bed early. Sleep in if you need to. If you’re not up by the time training starts, I’ll let Sensei Wu know. And tell me if you start feeling sick, okay?”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“No. You’re free to go.”

…

“Stars, what a day!” Nya cries as she collapses on her bed.

You shut the door, chuckling at her as you set your journal down next to your temporary mattress. “Man, if this is what my first week with you guys looks like, I can’t even begin to imagine what else is going to happen!”

Silence overcomes the two of you as the black-haired girl rolls over to her stomach, hands drifting to her nightstand. Resting on top is a dagger, which she picks up and twirls around her fingers.

“Seems like they guys have found their fire again,” she mumbles, gaze absent as she watches her blade spin in her hand. “I’m glad.”

You study her downcast gaze for a moment, sensing her shift in mood. “Why don’t you join them? You’re clearly talented enough to fight with them. Why not?”

”I’m not technically a ninja. Not yet, anyway,” she answers, shrugging. “I mean, I train with them when I can, but since they’re out so much, it’s hard to find the time. It was getting boring as hell, just staying here while they were gone.” She shakes her head, sighing.

You struggle to process what she’s saying. “You mean…someone as talented as you…they just leave you behind?”

“Yeah, to watch over the monastery. But I can’t say I’m fond of being left out of the action.”

“But you don’t have to stay put,” you reply as you gather an armful of pajamas from one of your bags. “Can’t you help out in your own way? You don’t need anyone’s permission to do what you want to do. If you want to be out there, fighting crime and doing good, then you should damn well be doing that. Ninja or not.”

Nya doesn’t answer for a few moments, taking a moment to sort her thoughts. When she looks back at you, the blade is still in her hands.

“You’re right,” she says, sitting up. She uses her bed post as a support, bringing herself to a single foot.

“What are you doing?” you question as she hops to her desk.

“I have an idea. Do you mind if I stay up and sketch for a little while?”

Always happy to read fresh requests. Please read my guidelines before submitting.

Let me know what you think of this chapter :)))

#ninjago x reader #cole x reader #cole brookstone x reader #cole brookestone x reader #reader insert #ninjago knife to meet you series

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sosa2imagines · 3 months ago

Text

You, me and Vegas! Part 12

Warning- Fluff, angst. realization.

After his parents left, Bucky was restlessly and desperately trying to call Peach on her phone.

Bucky's heart sank when he looked around the living room and noticed Peach's phone lying on the coffee table. She had left it behind in her haste to leave, and he couldn't call her to apologize.

He picked up the phone, looking at the screen. It was ringing, but of course, there was no response. She was probably already at Wanda's. He put the phone back down, feeling even more guilty and frustrated than before.

Bucky was still pacing around the apartment, unable to calm his thoughts. He couldn't stand the silence and solitude any longer. He needed to talk to someone, to get a different perspective on the situation.

He picked up his phone and called Steve, hoping he wasn't busy.

Steve sat down next to him, still in shock. “God, Buck,” he said, shaking his head. “You're a real piece of work, you know that?” He sounded a bit scolding, but his eyes were filled with more concern than anger.

Bucky closed his eyes, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “I royally screwed up. Big time. I hurt Peach. And I don't know how to fix it this time.”

Steve took a moment before responding, letting the pieces fall into place. “Wait a minute,” he said suddenly, realization dawning. “Is this why you've been so...happy lately? All smiley and all that?”

Bucky looked at Steve, his expression sheepish. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Peach makes me happy. She's just...she's different. She understands me, and she's so good to me, even when I don't deserve it. She has made me realize, that I don't have to be serious all the time. I can find happiness, in even smaller things in life. I don't have to be what my parents want me to be...”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair again. “But tonight, I let her down,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I stood there like a coward and let my parents insult her right in front of me. I let her leave without saying a word. I've been a total prick.”

Steve could see the pain and frustration in Bucky's eyes, and he understood. He had seen firsthand how controlling and critical Bucky's parents could be.

“Bucky,” he said, his voice gentler now. “It's okay. It's never easy standing up against your parents, especially when they're like that. So…you have fallen in love with Peach, huh?”

Bucky nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I have. I love her. I didn't want to, I tried so hard to not fall for her, to not get so attached.”

He looked at Steve, his eyes filled with pain. “But I can't help it. She's just...she's everything I've ever wanted, but didn't know I needed. And now I've royally screwed it all up.”

Steve sat silently, listening to Bucky's confession with a mixture of concern and understanding. After a moment, he asked, “Have you tried talking to her?”

Bucky shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. “No,” he said quietly. “I couldn't. After what happened at dinner, she stormed out, and she didn't even take her phone. And honestly, I don't blame her. I wouldn't wanna talk to me either.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You gotta talk to her, Buck,” he said firmly. “You gotta apologize and make things right. She's important to you, yeah?”

Bucky nodded, his expression one of determination now. “She is,” he affirmed. “More important than anything, anyone else. I need to fix this. I need to make things right with her. Tomorrow we are getting annulled, maybe I can get to talk to her before that.”

Steve clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You got this, man...” he said encouragingly. “Go talk to her, and make things right. And if you mess up again, I'm gonna knock some sense into you. And seriously, STOP PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR PARENTS!”

Bucky chuckled weakly at Steve's last words. “Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice a bit steadier. “I gotta stop letting my parents get to me. But it's not easy to break a habit of a lifetime, you know?”

“I know,” Steve said with a nod. “But you gotta do it, for your own sake. And for Peach's. You want her in your life, right?”

“More than anything,” Bucky replied, his voice firm and resolute. “I can't lose her. And I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make things right with her. I have fallen in love with her, Steve. I need to tell her, how I feel.”

Steve smiled at Bucky's determination. “That's the spirit,” he said approvingly. “Go get your girl. I have faith in you. And as for your parents? I'm pretty sure you'll explode at them.”

Bucky laughed, the first genuine laugh he'd had since dinner. “Yeah, I probably will. But I don't care. I've spent way too long caring about what my parents think of me. It's time I start living for myself, on my own terms.”

Steve grinned, clapping Bucky on his back. “Good man. Now, you fix things with Peach, first thing tomorrow morning, and we'll see if I can come up with some strategy to deal with your parents. Now try to get some rest.”

Meanwhile, Peach was pacing back and forth in Wanda's living room, the anger and frustration from the evening's events still coursing through her body. She had told Wanda everything, about the drunken marriage, the dinner, Bucky's inaction, how she had left.

As she spoke, Wanda listened, her expression one of shock and concern. She knew how much Bucky meant to Peach, and she could see how hurt Peach was by the evening's events.

“And his parents!” Peach exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I don't think I've ever met someone as judgmental and annoying as them. They act like they're so perfect, but they're just assholes. They were so rude, they just kept going on and on about how I'm not 'on their level' because I'm not rich like them or something.”

Peach stopped pacing for a moment, looking at Wanda. “But you know what?”

Wanda shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips at Peach's words. She could tell how riled up she was, and she didn't blame her. Bucky's parents did sound like a handful.

“The worst part is,” Peach continued, starting to pace again. “Despite all their criticism, I still think Bucky looks hot. I know, I know, it's crazy. But that haircut I gave him? Made him look adorable. And that stubble of his...it suits him.”

Wanda couldn't help but laugh at Peach's frustration. “Oh man, you really have it bad, don't you?” she teased lightly. “You know this whole situation is a mess, right?”

Peach looking at her with a confuse expression, “what?” Peach then started just to ramble, “I just care about him. He is different from the men I have seen in my life. He is so shy and fun when loosen up. He is a really good man, kind and I love him and I want him to be happy!”

Peach was so lost in her rant about Bucky, she didn't realize what she had just confessed. It wasn't until she said the words ‘I love him’ that she froze, the realization of what she had just said dawning on her.

Wanda, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but burst into laughter at Peach's shocked expression. “You did not just say that!?” she managed to get out between laughs. “Oh my god, you hadn't realized, you love him?”

Peach blushed furiously, burying her head in her hands. “I can't believe I said that out loud,” she muttered into her palms. “I...I didn't even realize I...”

She trailed off, her thoughts a jumble. She hadn't even processed her feelings for Bucky yet, and now they were confirmed. She did love him. For real.

Wanda, sensing her friend's internal turmoil, sat down beside her and patted her back. “It's okay, Peach,” she said warmly. “It's okay to love him. But what are you gonna do about it?”

Peach lifted her head from her hands, her cheeks still pink. “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I mean, look at the mess we're in. We got drunk and married, his parents don't even know about us, and to top it all off, we're getting an annulment tomorrow.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “And you still love him?”

Peach sighed, sinking back onto the couch. “Yeah, I do,” she said quietly, a mixture of sadness and defeat in her voice. “I fell in love with the idiot, and now I don't know what to do. I don't even know if he loves me too?”

Wanda put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “But you want him to love you back, right?” she asked gently.

“Yes! But what if...”

Wanda squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Peach, you never know unless you try,” she said gently. “You have to talk to him. Tell him how you feel, and see how he responds. But you won't know if you don't communicate.”

“I left my phone at his place and I can't go back...I don't know if his parents are still there.” Peach pouted.

Wanda patted Peach's back sympathetically. “Yeah, that's a bit of a problem,” she said, a small frown on her face. “You don't want to run into his parents again, that's for sure. But you gotta get your phone back, right? You need it. You can use it as an excuse to go back or...maybe you can talk to him tomorrow, when you meet for the annulment.”

Peach considered this for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yeah, you're right,” she said finally. “I do need my phone. But going back to his apartment isn't a good idea, not with his parents being there. I don't want to deal with them again. I'll go over there, in the morning to talk to him.”

Wanda nodded. “That's probably for the best,” she agreed. “You'll have time to collect your thoughts and what you want to say to him. But just remember, you need to be honest with him about how you feel. You can't keep everything bottled up, it'll drive you crazy.”

Peach nodded, a determined look in her eye. “Yeah, I know,” she said, wiping away the tears that were now dried on her face. “It's just...I'm scared. I'm scared of his response. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Then what?”

Wanda shrugged, her voice gentle yet firm. “Then you'll have to accept it, no matter how much it hurts. But at least you'll have tried. And who knows, he might surprise you. But you won't know until you talk to him, right?”

Peach nodded, taking a deep breath. “You're right,” she said, her voice a little steadier now. “I need to talk to him. I need to know how he feels, and if he doesn't feel the same, then at least I've tried, like you said. It's not going to be easy though.

Bucky couldn't sleep. The guilt about not standing up for Peach was like a weight on his chest, pressing down harder with every passing minute. He kept picturing her face, the hurt in her eyes, how she must be feeling right now.

His parents' words echoed in his head too, their disapproval of Peach, their insistence that he needed someone ‘better’. But he knew he didn't want anyone else. He only wanted Peach.

Peach tossed and turned in Wanda's guest bed, her thoughts swirling in a mixture of anger and frustration. Everywhere she looked, she saw Bucky's face. His wide grin, his bright eyes, the way his face lit up when he saw her. And that thought only led back to his parents.

She muttered curses under her breath, directing all her anger and frustration at them. How they had ruined everything. How they had come between her and Bucky.

Bucky lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room. His mind was racing, replaying the events of the day. The almost-kiss with Peach replayed in his mind over and over, a vivid memory that sent his heart racing.

The memory of their almost kiss filled her thoughts, adding to her frustration. They had been so close to something more, something real. But his parents had come barging in, shattering the moment and leaving her feeling shattered too.

“Those assholes!!!!” she muttered, punching her pillow in anger. Why did they have to ruin everything?”

Wanda's voice suddenly rang out from the other room, startling Peach from her thoughts. “Go to sleep, Peach!” she called out firmly.

Peach groaned in response, burying her head under the pillow. Easier said than done, she thought. How was she supposed to sleep when her mind was racing like this?

Bucky kept wondering what would have happened, if he had just gone with his instincts and kissed her. Would she have accepted it? Would things have developed differently between them?

As Peach stared at the ceiling, she couldn't help but think about what the night could have been like. Bucky and her, chatting about everything and nothing. Laughing, smiling, their bodies close together. They were supposed to talk about what came next, after the annulment. Was this just going to be a one-time thing? Were they going to continue seeing each other after this?

The questions swirled in her head, each potential answer filling her with equal parts excitement and uncertainty.

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking, how they were supposed to spent the night together, as husband and wife before the big day tomorrow.

Peach gritted her teeth, her anger flaring up again as she once again thought about Bucky's parents. “Those god-damn parents of his!” she muttered, punching her pillow again. “If they hadn't ruined everything, Bucky and I would be together right now. We'd be planning for our future.”

Wanda, shouted again from her room, “Yeah maybe he would have put a baby in you! For love of god go to sleep and murder his parents in your dream!”

Peach blushed furiously, her mind immediately going to places it shouldn't. But as the thought of Bucky putting a baby in her filled her mind, she realized Wanda had a point. Maybe things could have gone further tonight, if it weren't for his parents.

Her blush deepening, she yelled back at Wanda, “Not helping! And yes, I will murder them in my dream!”

Part 11 - Part 13

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