#person who triggered this thought train to move - I think you should bite what bites you. I think you have every right to kill a spirit

[blackvahana]

i love seeing (certain) people bitch about parasites and its like. yeah. now youre rousing the urge to infect you with them

[getouswh0re]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, blood & gore, mass murdering, obsession, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: he would tear the entire world apart with his own hands, just to keep you by his side evermore.

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Love is a lethal bliss.

Bearing semblance to momentary sweetness, it warms the cockles of your heart; yet before one could even savour it for long, in its honey-like aftertaste is a deadly poison — seeping through the branching veins and killing every cell of the living host within its reach. Soundlessly, life is sucked out as one discovers themselves teetering on a tightrope of death.

i) The ambience of the atmosphere between you and Gojo is silent, deadly — akin to the calming weather before a raging storm. As the two of you stand at opposite ends of the living room, eyes refusing to meet with the sorcerer’s as an expanse of sky blue smoulders holes into your soul. Feeling your limbs trembling from the intensity of his stare, cat got your tongue. The words you’ve meant to say are stuck at the back of your throat as the taller male shifts a step forward, and you unconsciously leaning back against the wall.

“Do we have to do this love?” You cringe at the feigned pain interlaced in your ex’s tone. “You know you don’t have to do this. This is painful for both you and I, and knowing how much you love me, you certainly don’t want to put both of us through all of this. Don’t you?”

You bite your lip, eyes downcast. 

You wish all of this isn’t necessary, that everything that has happened is nothing more than your imagination regarding the red flags displayed before your periphery. Still, you have to do it having mulled over it for a while. It is about time that all of this come to an end. 

Ever since a certain man called Gojo Satoru meandered into your life, everything changed as your feelings for the male blossomed, like fresh buds on the bare branches with remnants of snow thawing into tinges of spring. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reciprocate one another’s feelings, yet cracks gradually surface on what seemed like an all-too-perfect fairy tale, breaking the crystal ball of illusion that you had been trapped in throughout all these months. 

For as long as you could remember, Gojo has been acting out of character; sure enough he retains his childish personality and insufferable god complex, yet there are times when you could barely recognise him. On occasions he would whine for hours, desperate to gain your attention, and there were moments when he’d follow wherever you went. Initially dismissing his clinginess as his way of displaying affection, you didn’t think much about it. That was until his demeanour underwent a 180 degree shift; being overbearing was one thing, yet the sorcerer had the audacity to dictate your life and your social circle, stepping his foot way past the boundaries that even you thought was too much. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t give Gojo an opportunity to change for the better. You did; it was him who failed to reflect on his own mistakes, to take things for granted without realising he had been in the wrong all along. With those alarming signs of the relationship spiralling into a toxic one, it occurred to you that you should end things fast before circumstances aggravated. 

Love is a beautiful pain.

To relish its fleeting vestiges between their fingertips, one must endure the torment of its thorns. Not everyone has the courage to sacrifice their sanity for something so transient, but one — or maybe few, who are more than willing to pay for their price, would do anything to hold onto such evanescent reminisces close to their heart.

ii) “Come on y/n. You know you don’t want to break up with me, stop lying to your heart.” 

As if his saccharine smile isn’t enough to make bile surge up your throat, the lovelorn white-haired man stares at you with such adoration, making you revolted than ever; before you could even blink, he is already inches away, bringing up his slender fingers and caressing your cheeks with utter delicacy. 

“From the moment we met, it’s like the red strings of fate intertwining, akin to two worlds colliding.”

Feeling his breath tickling your frigid neck, goosebumps laminate your skin as you shudder underneath his lasting touches.

“Your heart belongs to me, and mine yours. It’s like the universe wants the two of us to be together — forever. Just stop denying your feelings, okay? I can hear your heartbeat ... it’s beating crazy, just for me.” 

“Gojo, you need to stop all of this —“

“Oh honey, don’t say that ... I know the look in those eyes.” He presses on, his insufferable ego refusing to give in. “You might be pushing me away, but your body does the exact opposite. You��re still in love with me. You care for me, I know you do.”

Perhaps that is what makes terrifying about the sorcerer. Wearing his usual smile on a deceptively charming face, his true thoughts are inscrutable beneath the unfazed facade; worst of all, you never know what would drive him off the edge, not until you experience triggering a ticking time bomb by accident.

“Gojo, hear me out.” You push the towering male away, determined than ever to cut ties with him for the sake of your own safety. “What you do is not love anymore. It’s ... obsession! And it’s suffocating me! If you truly cared about me you would’ve respected my wishes and opinions — but you didn’t. No matter how much you love someone, this is far beyond acceptable. I ... we need to break up, for the sake of both of us.”

Stunned, the remnants of hope flicker in the sorcerer’s azure eyes before dissipating into darkness, along with his despondent heart that has plummeted into abysmal depths of a bottomless void. Hands retracting from your skin, you heave out a sigh of relief when spine-chilling chortles echo from Gojo’s throat.

“You think that’s it? That I’ll let you go?” The crazed glint in his burning stare convinces you even more that breaking up with this delusional man is the only option to save yourself. Slowly backing towards the door, you have prepared yourself for the worst, making a potential run with a bag filled with your valuables.

“You cannot run away from me y/n! You know you can never escape from me. I will flip the world upside down to find you — and hunt you down! Want me to prove that? I will tear the entire world apart by my hands, just so that you won’t run away from me anymore!”

You finally make your run, sprinting out of your shared apartment as fast as you could whilst ignoring his shrilling screams, deciding to leave everything behind for good.

Love is an unprecedented enigma.

Like a never-ending Möbius strip, the red strings of fate intertwines people's fates — yet at the same time, it looms over everyone's lives like a doom of death, mercilessly tearing loved ones or those held dear to their hearts apart within the blink of an eye. Callous as it seems, it reminds people how minuscule acts of gratitude allow them to appreciate the present before they lament or carry their regrets later on in life. Unfortunately, with the complexity of destiny, nobody could ever foresee when karma would dawn upon their heads. Not even you.

Little would you know that doomsday would be awaiting you so soon.

iii) For what feels like going through hell and back, you finally manage to rid yourself out of the psychotic sorcerer's hands and his devious manipulation. For what it’s worth, there is no guarantee about your life returning to normal. Knowing that it is nearly impossible to escape from Gojo (knowing that his sixth eyes can instantly locate where you are), you eventually make the decision of moving away with a heavy heart, considering that it would be what it’s best to solve your issues with your controlling ex. 

Having settled the documents and errands, all that’s left is for you to leave the place filled with nothing other than sad memories. As if it seems like a fresh start is extending its outstretched hands towards you, freedom is just within hand’s reach.

Not until all hell breaks loose on October 31st — the day of your departure. 

Copper tinges beckon indigo skies at twilight, remnants of the setting sun shining through the windows as you take a last, rueful look at the apartment you’ve resided most of your life before grabbing your belongings and heading towards the train station. With the day being Halloween, it isn’t surprising at all that the streets would be crowded, flooded with jovial citizens who want to enjoy themselves during the spooky season. All you have to do is make your way onto the designated train. 

Yet that never happened, because havoc descends among the living like a catastrophic plague. 

Just as you writhe your way through the streets and making your way towards the train station, screams erupt when a massive quake demolish the surrounding buildings into shambles, tearing the festive merriment in the atmosphere apart as people turn and run in all directions without warning — leaving you extremely perplexed about the current state of Shibuya. Horror is evident in every onlooker’s eyes whilst they dash for shelter; the city is in absolute chaos — danger looming, asphalt pavements ensanguined with blood, distressed cries resonating into the night. 

“Hey!” You call out, grabbing onto a random passerby. “What the hell happened?” 

“Danger ... curses ... sorcerer —“

Your blood run cold upon the mentioning, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out the entire situation and who has been responsible. In hindsight, you should’ve had followed the rest and ran away from the scene immediately, but you don’t — standing there amongst the quiet streets in utter terror. And before you could even lift your legs and sprint for your life, there he is, stained from head to toe in blood — an inebriated stare full of nothing but infatuation for you. 

“Honey! There you are ...” Skipping over mountains of corpses humming a joyful tune, Gojo happily pulls you into his chest, nestling his face against your squirming shoulders, his grip a vice against your futile efforts of struggling to break free. “I was so worried about you ever since you left! I ... I feel like my world is falling apart, and I just cannot live without you you know!” 

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!” 

The sorcerer chortles at your demand, ignoring your protests as he hugs you closer to his throbbing heart. 

“Darling ... we could’ve been so happy together. Yet you have to do all of this. For what? If you had given me your heart and soul, none of this would’ve happened —“

“Oh, so this is my fucking problem now?” You hiss, shoving the taller male off. “You really are crazy — Gojo Satoru. But I never regret the decision I’ve made, and I will do it again and again if I need to!” 

That is when he activates his domain expansion. 

All of your sudden, your mind is a blank — staring into the sorcerer’s cerulean eyes as it overwhelms you like a raging hurricane, sucking you deeper and deeper until your entirety sinks into his infinite void. For once you finally fear the strongest man on earth — of the dangers he possesses and what would’ve happened had he decided to break your mind the hard way. 

“To be honest, I don’t care ~” Silent tears roll down your cheeks once you recognise the drop in the man’s usual carefree tone, feeling the remnants of sanity being ruthlessly stripped away from you as you fall limp in Gojo’s loving arms. 

“The seas can rage, the heavens will rumble. But no matter what happens, I’m never going to let any of this take you away from me — for you and I are the honoured ones, destined to be together ...” 

With his voice dwindling to a hushed whisper, the sorcerer slips a shimmering ring onto your finger, declaring in utmost adoration his vows of undying love. 

“In time and evermore.”

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Sad Ending

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries, what have you.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When you're reunited with Damian after year's of being apart, what he doesn't know is that you're there to say goodbye

A/N: This didn't quite turn out how it played out in my head but ig that's partly because I wasn't able to put in the filler parts in between cuz it just didn't fit. In hindsight I could've written a few more k's of words to fit it in but I reached my limit so I hope y'all enjoy it.

Your eyes were trained onto the figure in the crowd of the gala. The same figure it had been pinned to for a few weeks now and it would continue to be that way for as long as you could.

Damian Wayne was just as beautiful as you remembered him, with sharp eyes and a gorgeous face that had your heart leaping to your throat with a simple look. But you believed that the world wasn’t blessed with eyes gifted enough to see the true beauty of him.

A beauty that only someone who knew him on the inside would.

Everything about him was compelling, gorgeous, familiar. You watched him from afar in longing, wishing that you could go up to him but still you kept your distance, fearing the worst if he knew you were here.

Still, you remained selfish, indulging in your desires to get whatever glimpse of him that you could. You kept him away from you however, knowing that once you got a taste of him, you wouldn't be able to pull back.

But it was tough, you had missed him, so much.

Even so, you were content simply watching him.

You thought you were sneaky, that Damian didn't notice. Of course, you overestimated yourself, or underestimated him. And of course, in the traditional Wayne fashion, you had to expose yourself in the most dramatic and eccentric way possible.

The famous Damian Wayne, son of reputable and not to mention rich Bruce Wayne was attacked at the bank by a bunch of thugs, armed with weapons. The security was taken out swiftly and you imagined that Damian would quickly disarm the man threatening him with a knife.

Instead, he made no move, not even bothering to look remotely interested and just held up his hands like he was bored. The bandit, trigger-happy and confused, pulled back the blade in his hand, to try and stab him.

The crowd gasped and whimpered but were silenced by the man pointing a gun at them. Damian still didn't look phased. Instead, he lazily tilted his head until his eyes locked on your figure, hidden in the shadows. You stopped dead, watching carefully as he stared at you, completely tuning out the man putting his life in peril.

When the thug moved again, to try and stab him and Damian still didn't make any move, you leaped from your place before your mind could even process it, wedging yourself between the both of them and quickly disarming the man.

He fell to the ground, screaming in pain when you knocked the weapon out of his hands and then twisted his arm, hearing the painful crack of his shoulder getting pulled out of its socket.

You glared at the man behind you from the corner of your eye, "You could've gotten hurt."

He shrugged, "I knew you'd step in to protect me."

You scoffed, "You put a lot of faith in someone you haven't seen in years."

He just smirked in the infuriating way you knew he would before moving from behind you as more men came at you. With his help it didn't take long before they were all on the ground, either knocked out or groaning in pain.

"Um, can someone call an ambulance for these guys?"

When you turned, Damian was watching you with a small smile and your heart fluttered in your chest. You should've kept him at an arm's distance, you should have left but in the moment all you wanted to do was be in his arms.

Before you could even help yourself, you crashed into his chest like a falling star, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in the familiar scent of him. He held you tightly against him, cradling your head lovingly and gently pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"The league." You whispered to him, remembering why you were here.

Damian shushed you, tightening his arms around you and you were in a safe haven, sighing in relief against him. For a second, all the fear and guilt you had been feeling melted away.

Nothing else mattered as long as you were in his arms.

"We can discuss it back at home, (Y/N)." He muttered, now pulling away so he could lead you away from the police and reporters to his car.

You stared at your fingers intertwined with Damián’s, the engagement ring on your finger glimmering brightly under the sunlight and smiled unconsciously.

"I missed you." You sighed, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. Damian spared you another smile over his shoulder before you caught up with him, leaning into his arm.

"Me too, beloved."

****

"You should get some rest, beloved." Damian muttered, as the others began leaving the room. Your shoulders were still tense but you managed a smile, nodding at him.

"I'll just wash up and join you."

He smiled gently at you, raising your hand and placing a fluttering kiss to your knuckles before leaving. You watched the door as it slid shut and it was only then you let your expressions melt back onto your face.

"You may have the others fooled, but don't think for a second that you've pulled the wall over my eyes." Came from behind you and you froze, eyes widening.

You spun around to see Damian's brother, Tim, inch his way closer to you, figure stiff and guard up.

"Because Damian knows you, I'll assume your identity to be true. Damian was quick to trust you and the others followed suit but something's not adding up. Why are you here?"

His eyes were sharp and his gaze cut right through you. You didn't realize it but your hands were shaking even though you tried hard to maintain your composure.

"I—I told you," You croaked, cringing at your suddenly choked voice, "I was giving up on this life. I'm turning over a new leaf and hiding from the League until that happens."

"Then why come here?"

"I told you—"

"I don't believe you. You know why? Here's the problem with your story." He spoke, coolly, "Take it as a puzzle. The puzzle pieces all fit, but the picture, doesn't make sense. Why come here? When you're on the run from the League of Assassins no less?"

You were floundering, quite pathetically you might add, unable to think when your mind was flurrying so violently. It didn't help that Tim was speaking in such a condescending and strict manner that it intimidated you.

"Here's what I think happened; either you're here to lead the League to Damian, waiting until he's vulnerable and his guard is down to strike." He spat, "Or, you're not running from them at all. You're waiting until they find you."

You hesitantly raised your eyes to meet his, "You can't tell Damian."

"Since you even tried to entertain the fact that I'd hide Damian means that it's the latter. But why?"

"I was hand-chosen by Talia to be Damian's betrothed since birth. They handed me down to one of the main sergeants to be raised as their own. Except, they weren't that happy to have me." You explained, watching as his features smoothened over with realization.

The gears in his head were turning and you could only assume what was going on in his mind. He was a great detective; you could understand why he had Ra's' acknowledgement. But that made you all the more nervous, trembling hands holding onto the material of your shirt tightly.

"I was raised by them to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. As the person who was going to continue the 'Al Ghul' bloodline. However, soon after I was already perceived as a failure." You murmured, keeping your voice low in fear of any other Wayne's poking their head around and over-hearing.

"When Damian left the League to stay with Bruce." Tim realized and you nodded.

"Things just got worse after that. I sustained an injury from a mission and couldn't walk for a few months. My step-family was called on a mission for the last few of my recovery. When they returned, they were unaware of my progress but I decided to keep up the act that I was still unable to take care of myself. It was a few nights after that I heard them plotting to kill me since I became a liability and a shame to the family."

The man in front of you chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his tired face with his palm, "What kind of fucked up Cinderella story is this?"

You shared his sentiment, "Only difference to the original is that my prince never came. So, I had to take matters into my own hand."

Tim's eyes widened, "(Y/N), why is the league after you?"

You released a shuddering breath, "Damian can't find out."

He bristled, "Damian would protect you."

"And that's exactly why he can't find out. Damian would die to protect me, and if he tries to step in that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Then why come here? Why bring it to our home?"

You hid your face in your hands, "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to be selfish one last time. I was completely content with just watching him from a distance, I guess I overestimated my abilities. When we met, I was hoping he'd turn me away. I was hoping he'd tell me that he moved on and never wanted to see me again. I was hoping he'd tell me that he didn't feel anything for me."

Your eyes began watering and you felt the urge to hide and cry. Everything was getting messed up. Guilt took over you when you remembered how bright Damian's face was when he saw you, how right his hand felt in yours. How could you do this to him?

"Damian would want to know." Tim told you softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder but your body stiffened up. He couldn't find out. He just couldn't.

"Are you really willing to put the life of your brother at risk for a girl you just met today?"

"You seem awfully keen to die." He commented, and you felt slight grief at his words. Of course, you didn't want to die. Not now, not when you were finally back in Damian's arms. Not ever.

You sniffled, biting your lip, "Damian shouldn't have to pay for my sins. I do."

His hand tightened on your shoulder and you found comfort in the warmth you could feel through your clothes, "I'll keep your secret."

Sighing in relief, you hugged him tightly, "Thank you."

****

When Damian woke up, his eyes flickered between the lamp beside him on the nightstand and then to the window. It was still dark outside, he assumed that he was woken up because of his usual schedule. It wasn't like him to miss patrol but the others suggested that he take a day off to rest.

He turned his neck to see that you weren't in bed beside him and wondered if last night had been a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time that he dreamt of you being by his side. But he remembered how much his heart pounded, he remembered feeling shocks all over his skin when he touched you.

And then he noticed the way the other side of the bed was mussed up, like someone had been sleeping there and he absently reached for that side, running his fingers up and down the fabric like he would be able to feel some residual warmth from your body.

Instead, the pads of his fingers came into contact with something coarse. His brows furrowed and he grabbed it between his fingers, realizing it was a folded piece of paper. Squinting and sitting up, he got a better look at it, recognizing his name scrawled in your handwriting.

'Damian.

I'm sorry that you'll have to find out this way but the League found my location a little earlier than expected. I'm going into hiding tonight. It's likely we'll never see each other again. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this in person. Even though I know this is a missed opportunity for it and I should have summoned up the courage to say goodbye, I just couldn't stand the thought. And I couldn't watch myself break your heart. Please forgive me for this. I never wanted our lives to turn out this way, but I can't keep running away from reality and towards my desires anymore. You deserve so much more than I could ever even hope to offer you. And I know this is another mistake I'm making, but I left the ring you gave me. Thank you for giving it to me, but I think it belongs to someone else.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

-(Y/N)'

His heart rate picked up, skimming over the words a few more times. This had to be some sort of trick, he tried to decipher your words, tried to see if there were any clues, any codes but his heart clenched in his chest when he realized there was none. He pulled back the covers in a frantic motion and sure enough, the engagement ring you were given on your 18th was glimmering, abandoned by you.

Blood hammered through his ears and he threw off the covers, getting to his feet and sprinting through the doors. His feet pounded against the hardwood floors and then the metal floors of the Batcave.

"Damian? What're you doing up?" Dick asked, raising a brow as Damian marched his way down to the Bat Computer before pushing Tim out of the way and pulling up the Manor security cameras. You had managed to avoid all of them. Of course.

"We have to find (Y/N)." He said, not turning his eyes off the screen.

"(Y/N)? Wasn't she in bed with you?"

"If she was in my bed then I wouldn't be down here trying to find her, now would I?!" He bit back and then held out the note for Dick to read. Once he got through it, Dick squeezed his younger brother's shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Don't worry, Little D, we'll find her."

"Damian, she said she doesn't want to be found. Don't you think you should listen to her and trust that she knows what's best?" Tim asked from behind him, hoping to get his brother to relax but Damian's back tensed up before he turned to his brother.

"You know something."

Tim froze, "What?"

But before he could even think of a cover story, Damian was grasping him by his collar, holding him to eye level to look the devil's grandson in the eye, "What are you not telling me, Drake?"

Realizing he's been caught, Tim pushed his hands off him, turning so that his back was facing him, "Doesn't matter. (Y/N) said she didn't want you to find out and I promised her."

He felt a little helpless watching Tim's back facing him. He didn't feel like himself. Every second that Damian spent away from you, when he knew that you could be in trouble had every part of him, every fibre of his being, every cell in his body ache with a pain he had never felt before.

Never in his life would he have thought that he would be brought to his knees by someone. But you held all the power over him and Damian would gladly kneel before you, his queen. And now he couldn't stand being away from you, he couldn't bear the ache in his nerves when he couldn't feel your skin under his.

"Tim." The silence in the cave was deafening as everyone looked between the two youngest brothers, "Please."

It was then Tim began doubting his choice. He bit his lip uncertainly, avoiding Damian's gaze and he looked to his feet, "She said she didn't want you to find out."

"Tell me."

And he did.

****

Your fingers were curled tightly around the handle of your sword, breaths coming out in sharp labours as you tried to deflect each of their offenses. There were too many of them, too many for you to take and even though you were able to dodge and counter most of their attacks, there could still hit you.

You were bloodied and shaking but you still refused to give up without a fight. They'd regret ever underestimating you, ever thinking that you were nothing more than a way to continue the Al Guhl bloodline. You were much more than that and they'd only see a fraction of it tonight.

Your resolved hardened in your veins as you sliced through another soldier, feeling more determined to get through this fight as the victor. Even though deep down you knew that it wouldn't change the end of your life, they'd never stop trying to hunt you down. But at least this way you'd put up a fight.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up the momentum, your speed and agility was retarding fast and decelerating with each hit you took. The wounds and cuts etched into your skin burned as you moved, blood dripping down your arms and legs.

Your body began going rigid, shocking in its movements momentarily as you kept flipping and manoeuvring yourself to doge the hits. That came to be a fatal mistake when your body locks up when you blocked one of the assassins, swords clashing together in the familiar sound of metal on metal.

Another came at you and your joints were locked in place, unable to move. Your mind blanked out and before you could slide the sword out to counter the other you heard someone scream your name.

You felt arms wrap tightly around your middle.

You saw green eyes.

And then you felt piercing pain in through your chest.

Damian heard you gasp in his ear and his grunt of pain echoed through your head as the katana went through him. Tears immediately clouded your vision when you felt fire burn across your middle, the blade of the sword buried into you as a painful reminder.

"Damian." You sobbed when you felt his knees buckle against yours. His body wanted to collapse, he couldn't stay standing much longer but you knew that if either of you moved, in an unsynced motion from each other, it could cause more pain to the other.

It was getting harder to breathe. You were choking on your own blood as the metallic taste filled your mouth. The sword had gone through Damian's lower abdomen but it had gone straight through your chest.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shirt, crying out into his neck, "Why did you come here?! Why didn't you stay away?"

With trembling fingers, he raised your chin so that your eyes would meet his. He was crying, the scorching pain forcing out more tears. Even then he wrenched a smile on his face.

"There's no one else in the entire universe I'd want by my side more than you. The ring is yours, my love."

Like as if on que, both your bodies crumbled towards the ground. The sword moved painfully through you and a garbled shriek left your mouth, muffled by the blood crawling up your throat.

Your head fell to Damian's chest and you heard the sound of his faint heartbeat, the sound getting farther and farther away as minutes passed. His arms were still wrapped around your waist in a lover's grasp, bodies pinned together until eventually everything went black.

Your prince came back for you this time.

What a shame the story had a sad ending.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[merakiaes]

Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Requested: By anon. 

Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3 

Wordcount: 5632

Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most. 

Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.

Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.

Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.

So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.

That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.

But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.

But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.

Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.  

The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.

It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.

But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.

You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.

You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:

“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”

He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.

“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.

The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.

As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.

No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.

Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.

You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.

His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.

You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.

You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.

But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.

“Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”

“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.

Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.

No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.

Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.

He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.

“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.

“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”

At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.

“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.

“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”

You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.

“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”

You could only roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”

As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.

He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.

“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”

“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.

He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.

“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”

He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.

So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.

“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.  

You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.

You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.

You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.

If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.

Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.

Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.

After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.

Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.

You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.

While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.

That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.

You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.

He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.

But then again, who did in these parts?

“Is that my shirt?”

You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.

Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.

You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.

Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.

Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.

“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”

“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”

Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.

You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.

Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.  

Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.

He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.

You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”

Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.

But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.

The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.  

Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.

But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.

The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.

You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.

Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”

He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”

You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.

You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.

He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.

“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.

“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.

“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”

“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”

“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.

“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.

Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.

Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”

He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.

“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.

“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”

“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.

He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.

When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.

With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.

You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.

Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.

A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.

As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.

Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger. 

You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.

Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.

Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.

Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.

By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.

You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.  

You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you. 

And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.

Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.

The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.

The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.

Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.

You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:

“Is that my shirt?”

You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.

“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.

Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.

You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad. 

Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.

You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.

But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.

His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.

But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.

“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”

As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.

A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.

The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.

“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.

“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”

“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.

“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.

“Why are you helping me?”

You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.

“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.

“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.

“You did. On countless occasions.”

He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.

“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”                                              

Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.

You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.

He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.

But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.

He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.

“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.

“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.

You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.

With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.

Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

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

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

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

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

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

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

[rebeccccccaaa]

🄰🄳🄳🄸🄲🅃🄴🄳

_______________________

🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈 🄱🄰🅁🄽🄴🅂 🅇 🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁

🅁🄴🅀🅄🄴🅂🅃: (ANON) hi! can you do a bucky x reader where they’re at a gala and the team has a mini after party (like AoU) and they’re playing cards against humanity or something dumb like that and bucky can’t keep his hands off of Y/n? maybe a lil smut if you’re up for it hehe. you’re the best !

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: Smut 18+ (duh lol), Bathroom sex, horny Bucky, slight dacryphilia, Cw: light asphyxiation (in case anyone gets triggered here’s a small content warning) 

🄰🅄🅃🄷🄾🅁'🅂 🄽🄾🅃🄴: dude I looove this omgg thanks for the request babes ;)

_______________________

“Alright, alright! Settle down, guys,” Nat shouted over the laughter.

“Ok next card. ‘Blank’: kid-tested, mother-approved,” she read off a black card.

“Which one, babe?” You and Bucky were a team; you sat on his lap insisted by the man himself.

“That one,” he pointed to the card you also had your eye on. You placed in the pile face down and waited for the other who snickered and giggled under their breaths believing they had the funniest card.

“Ok ready?”

“Whoo!” everyone cheered.

“Ok, we have Dead parents: kid-tested, mother-approved; oh my god,” Nat laughed, as did others.

“This groovy new thing called LSD: kid-tested, mother-approved,” everyone laughed out loud with that one.

“A snapping turtle biting the tip of your penis: kid-tested, mother-approved!” 

“Water: kid-tested, mother-approved.” 

“That one’s boring!” Sam shouted.

“Hey, be nice; that might be Steve’s. He still doesn’t understand the game,” you joked, making Steve rolling his eyes; it was in fact his card.

“And lastly, My inner demons: kid-tested, mother-approved, I just know this one’s Tony’s,” Nat read off the last card, making Tony get really defensive because it was his. 

“Hmm, this is a good one,” she thought. 

“I think I’m gonna go with the LSD,” Nat said, making you and Bucky cheer.

“Awe man, you guys are good,” Sam threw his cards. 

“Alright! I’m dealing now,” you said grabbing the deck of white cards. While you distributed the white cards again to the rest of the players, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Having you sit on his lap let him get away with a lot of things you two should be doing in private.

Ever since you two had gotten together, he was absolutely addicted to you. He wasn’t a sex addict, especially before your relationship; he hardly ever gotten intamite before. But with you he needed you in some way almost everyday. he addicted to you.

When you two had sex for the first time, Bucky couldn’t stop cuddling you afterwards. You tried to shower and Bucky followed you in and washed your body for you. You went to put some clothes but he just pulled you in bed, kissing your neck with arms wrapped around you tightly. 

Since then he practically couldn’t keep his hands off you. This had been the most sexually active you’d ever been in a relationship. And you didn’t mind too much if you were being honest. He was insatiable and you were more than willing to feed his desperate appetite; it made you feel desired.

“Get a room you two,” Tony mocked.

“I would if my girl didn’t keep insisting on playing with you buffoons,” Bucky growled.

“Baby, be nice,” you warned. 

You pulled a black card and hesitantly everyone put a white card in a pile for you to read. These particular answers got really dark and really funny to the point where you were squirming in Bucky’s lap but he too was laughing so hard.

“Oh my god! You guys I have pee,” you squealed.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you jumped from Bucky’s lap.

You made your way to the guest bathroom since it was the closest. When you finished washing your hands but in between that you heard the door open ever so quietly, but your instincts alerted you. 

You turned to the small halfway that led into the stall and waited for what could possibly be Wanda or Nat. You waited longer than you’d accept and ultimately turned back the mirror immediately startled by a large figure standing beside you. 

“Bucky!” you shrieked.

“Sorry, doll,” he gave you a toothy grin. 

“What are you doing in the ladies’ room?” you turned to face him fully.

“Got a couple minutes? They won’t suspect a thing,” bucky leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Are you serious?” you laughed.

“Come on, baby. Please,” BUcky’s hips pressed into yours and you could feel his hard cock poking through his pants. 

“Bucky, you’re addicted.”

“With an ass like that, how can resist. You’re perfect,” Bucky said cheekily.

He held your jaw and kissed you quite messily, urgency not forgotten. Your hands snaked up to curl into his long beautiful locks. He spun you around and your hands hit the mirror in front of you. 

Your hips dug into the marble counter of the bathroom as Bucky’s hands trailed up and under your shirt; rubbing your bare skin. He quickly unzipped his pants pulling and stroking his cock.

“Can’t fucking stay away from you, babygirl,” Bucky moaned in your ear. 

He pulled your pants down along with your panties and used his metal fingers to rub against your pussy, moving around the wetness that is coming out of you quickly. 

“Bucky please,” you whined.

“What baby? What is it?” he cooed.

“Bucky, fuck me,” you whimpered, moving your hips back to grind against his cock.

“You got it, my love,” he whispered.

 Bucky thrusted hard into you making your body repel forward. You were sure there’d be bruises from the hard marble table digging into your hips. You looked in the mirror to see Bucky’s stern expression as he thrusted in and out of you relentlessly.

You tried to moan quietly but the pleasure building up inside was getting overwhelming. Bucky moved his arm to cover your mouth and pulled against his chest.

Your breathing became heavy, going in and out through your nose sharply trying to keep your moans muffled behind Bucky’s hand. Bucky kept his eye trained on you still bucking his hips repeatedly. 

“Fuck, doll. You always feel so warm wrapped around my cock. I can never get enough of this perfect little pussy; squeezing me all tight and shit, god, I’m gonna cum,” Bucky moaned.

With your mouth covered, all you could do was whimper and moan as best as you could. Your eyes filled with tears of pleasure and spilled down your face beautifully. Bucky almost came from the sight of you crying in pleasure alone; but he kept his composure, not for long of course.

“You gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing me,” Bucky slid his hand down your front to rub your clit and your entire body jerked against him, making Bucky chuckled mockingly. 

You orgasmed violently against Bucky and he too reached his climax biting your shoulder to muffle his own loud moans and grunts. You leaned forward to catch yourself after Bucky released his firm hold on you.

“Fuck that was hot. Seeing you cry like that. Did I hurt you?” Bucky asked gently, helping you clean up. 

“No that was awesome!” you giggled. 

“What if someone came in?” you said once you felt decent.

“Just adds to the fun,” Bucky smirked.

“You’re crazy,” you pushed him lightly. 

You two went back to the group hearing laughter from still playing the insanely hilarious card game.

“Finally you two! What’s the point in calling it a quickie if you guys are gonna take twenty minutes,” Nat mocked.

“Was it really that long?” you asked, shocked; no shame in trying to pretend like you both leaving after Bucky’s hands were all over was a ‘coincident’.

“Yeah kinda,” Tony spoke up.

“Damn, we’ll have to practice,” Bucky smacked your ass, making you roll your eyes.

“Damn, Buck you’re addicted to her,” Nat chuckled.

“Of course I am, look at her,” Bucky flaunted you, making you feel slightly shy under the attention. 

“Come on guys let’s keep playing!” Wanda shouted, clearly tipsy.

You sat down next to Nat and Bucky sat at your side still holding your waist lovingly.

“You know,” Nat whispered to you, “As much of a sex addict you turned him into, he’s so in love with you. Head over his fucking heels, babe.”

“I know, and I love him too,” you smiled looking at Bucky.

Taglist!

@mathletemadison

if you want to be added for all my upcoming works and series or just one specific person send me an ask!! or message me! 🥰

[annmarcus63]

He wanted to say "I love you"

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Here's on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34237159

Injured Jaskier

"Blessed silence"

"Would you shut up, bard?"

"If you don't stop within the next two minutes, I swear, I'll break that fucking lute and shove it down your throat"

"Jaskier, shut up!"

"Alright! I'll stop, there's no need to be such a brute" replied Jaskier while tucking the lute, currently on his hands, on the brand new case he bought a couple of days ago to a retired musician living his last days on White Orchard. It's gorgeous, orgasmic, almost as sexy as the lute.

The music notes slowly fading in Geralt's ears, leaving a weak hum behind. Geralt sighed relieved, and a suspicious feeling that may resemble guilt. But there's not time to dwell on it. He's trying to sort the potions and required ingredients to complete the contract which he needed to follow up  that same night. Witchers were trained to tune out every sound to be able to concentrate. He could meditate for days with not a single thing to bother him, but Jaskier's chatter is a powerful contrary spell to the calmness he was used to. It's a possibility that Jaskier fell upon his path with the sole purpose to test his limits. He is good company but sometimes Geralt wonders if it's worth the trouble.

He needs Arachnomorphs' venom and Griffin's feathers and blue mutagen to brew the antidote to the potent venom of the Endrega warrior he's goin to face. Methodically he starts with the preparation, grind and mix, smell, taste, it hurts...it's ready.

Three weeks ago he received a letter from Eskel asking to meet for pressing matters. Geralt doesn't know what he may want, it maybe a problem with a powerful beast or just a call to drink, which is unlikely because the message seem urgent. So Geralt had to hurry if he wanted to catch him on time, he was two days late and if he doesn't kill the Endrega he'd be three days late. Traveling with Jaskier prevent from a fastest pace, and the reason of those two days were, of course, the bard who asked him to stay longer on White Orchard to wait for his new lute case. Geralt ponder all this with an edge of bitterness towards Jaskier, it's unfair and uncalled for. He feel like shit. He ponder it still.

Jaskier is capable of recognizing when he's being a nuisance. Or well...he can recognize when someone has reach their limits regarding him. He can be too much, he speaks too much, he moves too much, he whines too much, he thinks too much. He's considerate you see, when Geralt snaps at him he understands. He can't help it. Is what he is, and he's not going to change, he tried once for his father. It didn't work, Jaskier was giving too much away for the acceptance of one person, he conclude it didn't worth it.

He understands really, but today Geralt has been a little over the edge, and has crossed the line between banter and plain rudeness.

So the logical response is to be more annoying.

Jaskier can be awful too when he wants.

He prod the wild and stressed animal with meaningless chatter, why does the fire moves like that? is the color of my fingernail normal? have you ever wonder how it'd be to become a fish?

the wild animal spill one or two drops of the antidote while pouring it from the small wood plate in which the ingredients got blend. Jaskier swear have saw how the vein on Geralt's forehead pop.

Ups…

"Would you SHUT UP for once in your fucking life?” ok he seen that coming “I can't even hear my own thoughts, bard. When we reach Velen you're going to stay there. Do you understand? Not following me around anymore”

To be fair he has caused this. It's what he does, always, being and idiot with and incessant mouth. He has push too far this time, even so that tone on Geralt's voice put him on edge, angry even. That ungrateful witcher and his never ending foul mood. What would he give to see him smile more often?

Everything.

A heavy atmosphere settled on the camp, Geralt's angry and now Jaskier's too, offended to be more accurate. Jaskier hated these often-occurring moments, as if the bard were a stranger and not a years friend.

Are you though?

Whoever sent the letter is Geralt's friend. What give it away? the eagerness to travel fast for instance. Jaskier send a letter once, asking if he wanted to meet at Novigrad, he never received a response nor Geralt went there.

Geralt packed his things, secure the sword straps and with a particular tenseness on his shoulders he turn to Jaskier.

"You're going to stay here. HERE Jaskier. I don't want you anywhere near the nest, the poison..."

"I know"

"Then I want you to repeat it"

"What? Really? I'm not a child, Geralt" but the Witcher kept his stance, waiting, and Jaskier's a sucker for pleasing.

"I'm going to stay here, quiet and still. If I get near the nest there's a high chance to get poisoned, even a small dosis could kill me. And get my body back and bury it would be a big hassle for you Are you happy now?"

"Hmm. I'll be back by midnight"

Geralt disappeared between the trees and Jaskier watch him go with a big lump on his throat. Not five minutes later he started cleaning the broth pot to fill it again with clean water to drink to warm up his bones. How he wish to have tea or coffe to add.

·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·

Wind's howling, Jaskier reflected, feeling the chill colouring his cheeks and breaking his lips unpleasantly. Besides the wolfs living on the wind, there was silence, a sepulchral silence that caused him feel unsafe. Even Roach looks in distress. An hour ago she was lying on the grass getting ready for a good night sleep, and now she's looking everywhere as if she can sense something lurking in the shadows, and that is scary. By the position of the moon Jaskier could guess the time, one and a half hour past midnight. That idiot witcher should be here by now. He knew that, Roach knew that, so why he's not here?

He couldn't think straight, the worry was eating him up from the intestines and it wasn't fair or unnormal, worrying for Geralt is like worrying for the sun to never come up again. It may happen but is unlikely, impossible.

Geralt is fine, he is, or at least is what he kept repeating himself for the past hour like a mantra that no one would ever listen.

Something went wrong, I'm sure. He'd be here by now so why he's not here? What if the Endrega chew his head off? that's sudden and crude Jaskier, what's wrong with you? He can't be dead, I mean I didn't even get the chance to apologize, to clean his wounds, to buy him breakfast, to tell him I love him with all my beating foolish heart.

Agh, but he's not dead, so stop that train of thought right this instant, young man.

For some reason the voice sounded like his dead mother.

"I need to go there only to see if he's safe" said Jaskier to Roach

"But he said rather rudely to you to stay put and not bother him." replied imitating Roach voice like a tired housewife.

"I know what he said" said with an air of petulant child. "And what about you come with me to keep me in check"

"It's dark you can't see and it's dangerous"

"But you can!"

"Fine, hop on me" he loved winning arguments.

He saddled Roach efficiently, Geralt rarely let him do it but he was a quick learner. He put out the fire with a kick of dust, took a small blade that Geralt kept at the bottoms of his bag just in case, he also lit the only torch they carried for emergencies, a beacon of light that Geralt could see if he was in trouble and rode Roach towards the clearing next to the main road from which people get disappearing and getting eaten.

He trusted Roah to guided him, she was a clever one who also worried for her master.

The cold kept biting his skin even under the small fire, he left his cape at camp in case he needed to run, but they're getting closer. A wooden statue with flowers and canisters at it’s feet appear by his right, the notice board said the location of the insect was near that god statue.

He stoped Roach and dismount then he took the short blade wishing he didn't have to use it, before leaving he remembered the possibility of encounter with poison, according to Geralt Endregas not only spit venom but also exuded poisonous gas equally lethal. So he took his undershirt to cover half his face, this might prevent breathing it.

The turned out the torch because the light would attract the Endrega and distract Geralt.

He walked slowly to north realizing how much he was trembling, it wasn't that cold. It was fear and the soft hum of the adrenaline waiting on his brain for being triggered.

And then a rancid and potent smell reached him despite the undershirt. There. A thick unnatural mist and a series of small mountains piled some meters away. No, not mountains, bodies, Endrega bodies lying on the ground slaughtered with efficiency. A witcher’s work.

He almost missed it because of the mist, but there he was, Geralt, lying on the ground in a tragic pantomim of his foes. Jaskier hurried to him almost tripping in the process, he kneel by his side and got shocked by the hardened veins on the witcher's forehead, his levels of toxicity must being dangerous high. But he wasn't dead and if Jaskier wanted to keep him like that he needed to take him away from the mist to help his body fight the secondary effects of the pocions.

He looked the number of bodies surrounded them, more than six when the contract said one Endrega.

He have to be quick so he wrap Geralt by the armpits and with all his strength started to drag him towards Roach, he couldn't risk bringing her here in case of the poison or another insect near by. Geralt was a big guy, he has always being attracted to that, now not so much. Sweating, weary and scared.

Sweating, weary and scared the bard dragged the witcher to Roach when he started to feel dizzy followed by an annoying scratching under the skin. Roach stamped her feet two times before getting closer, she nosed her master while Jaskier catch his breath, then the lovely girl crouched down and wait patiently.

In a matter of a blink, his head started to pound violently and his vision to get blurred. That wasn't good.

The poison, it's the poison.

With all the strength he got left he pull Geralt on his belly over Roach, the position wasn't ideal but it was all he could do before collapsing on his knees.

"Go Roach. Go" She stood with must carefulness, Jaskier watched her go feeling a rush of pride and victory, he saved Geralt, he'll be alright and that was all that matter.

Jaskier fell backwards hitting his head with the ground, his body started convulsing or at least that's what he thought before lose consciousness.

·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·

An insistent poke on his ribs brought him to wakefulness followed by a fall and a sudden sharp pain on his side. A few seconds later the witcher take in his surroundings. Roach neigh by his side, he had fall from her. The heavy cloud from exhaustion and toxicity still rested on his brain.

He felt the bitter tang on the back of his tongue of venom running thru his system and the hollow pain that remained. There were eight Endregas...yes, the Endregas, he had fainted on the clearing knowing well that he might not woke up again if he kept on breathing that mist. How did he get there? Roach answered with a distressed stump of her foot.

"What?" he asked the horse, and she neigh.

Jaskier

"Fuck."

he search on his pouch for White Honey to swallow it in a big gulp.

Awareness returned quickly and despite the injuries and aches on his lef side he took Roach's reins and guided her back to the clearing.

Back to Jaskier, he hoped to not be late, please let him be on time, he begged to no one in particular.

The contract said one Endrega, imagine the surprise and horror he felt when encountering a nest with full grown ups monsters which position were stronger and their hunt abilities an excellency when attacking in pack. He drank the three vials of antidote he carried and a dose of Swallow that burned his stomach and shot the toxicity levels to a mortal point. The Endregas were all dead, but tired and injured he collapse defeated. The position of the moon indicate that was dead for at least two hours during which he continued to breathe the poisonous gas, half and hour more and he'd be dead for good. Jaskier went for him, he could smell him on Roach, his fear and urgency. Idiot, that idiot.

Geralt tried with all his might to not think him dead.

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At the feet of the statue was Jaskier, body bent in an awkward angle. Geralt removed the undershirt on his face, recognizing it as a clever tactic. The mist did not reach that area but the purple and green tone on the bard's skin indicate high levels of poison, he must have went thru the mist to reach Geralt drag him back to Roach.

“Fuck, Jask”  said Geralt with a trembling voice and without thinking carried Jaskier to Roach, there'll be time to check for injuries for now he have to take him back to safety. Jaskier's heartbeat was slow, very very slow. Geralt fret but he did not relent.

He laid Jaskier's frigid body on the bedroll and with Igni he started the fire, he located the water Jaskier used for tea and used to clean his hands of the grime and dirt. A choking noise alerted him and Roach who was nosing the bard.

From Jaskier's nose a dark liquid started to flow, he was drowning from the inside which meant that he had breath the poison and it was filling his lungs with thick mucus.

He put Dandelion on his side and encouraged him to vomit with his fingers to clean his airways as soon as possible. Jaskier throat convulsed on his fingers followed by a steady dark flow. Geralt reached for the pot by the fire to put it under his mouth, which soon was filled to the brim.

"That's it Jask, that's it" Geralt whispered even though the bard couldn't hear him. With a clean cloth, he wiped the bard's mouth once the flow stopped and her lungs sound clear. It was then that Geralt noticed with overwhelming fear that the other had stopped breathing.

"No, no, Jask come on come on"

He acted fast by lifting Jaskier's chin and placing his clasped hands in the center of his chest and began to push down hard more times than he could count.

“Jaskier come back!” he growled when his shoulders felt like jelly, he was getting tired and Jaskier wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing. He remembered Renfri choking on his arms a reflection of what was happening here. Not this again, not these again. Jaskier's mouth opened follow up by a weak gasp and a weaker heartbeat.

But he came back, and Geralt almost cried right there and there, but he didn't know how. There's nothing else he can do, he had no medicine of herbs for poisoning that could help humans, everything he had was lethal. He instantly regretted overlooking the possibility of this happening. He was traveling with a bard and the most responsible and considerate thing he could do was prevent and buy at least herbs just in case. But he didn't. They were at least a day and a half away from the next town and being that far from the capital meant fewer healers. Jaskier wouldn't survive the travel, not on this conditions.

If the poison hasn't killed him by now then it means that he could survive on his own, or at least that's what Geralt hope.

He put Jaskier in one of his shirts and covered him with all the available clothes they had, his cape and even the blanket with which he covered Roach.

Exhausted he started removing his armour to clean the now faint slashes on his chest and abdomen, then he walked like death to Roach to remove the saddle and pet her gently thanking her for her help.

It was an hour before dawn, but Geralt did not rest, he could not even if he wanted to. He sat next to Jaskier to check his breathing and keep the fire burning.

The fever hit the bard a couple of hours later, he was burning dangerously high, Geralt dipped a cloth on clean water to place on his forehead, from time to time raised Jaskier's head to feed him with water.

His heart didn't stop again which was a blessing amongst the terrible situation. Jaskier didn't deserve to die like this, not for Geralt or monsters.

Then the hallucinations began, feverish and confused, Jaskier babbled under his breath while trembling furiously. He smell like sickness and decay and in that exact moment the witcher missed the natural perfume of the bard's skin. Like sea breeze and orange tree. Like Jaskier.

By day two Geralt got assaulted by an all consuming wave of guilt. He had yelled at the bard for being...well, himself. He was so upset and it was so easy to insult and threaten to leave him in the next town.

Jaskier hated to be left behind.

"Why did you came for me, you idiot?"

"I don't deserve it" whispered before taking the now warm cloth to dip it once again on cold water. Instead of improving, Jaskier's condition began to deteriorate. Painful spasms convulsed his body for hours, the fever did not subside and his breathing were shallow and slow. Geralt lay next to him that night to keep the tremors at bay, he hold him carefully alongside his body.

"You do remember the night after Posada when we make camp and you asked me to cuddle you because you were cold?" He whispered into the night "I didn't. If you were awake I'd never hear the end of this. You'd love it"

The bard moaned softly and shook slightly under his grip. "Come back to me, Jask." He meant to say how sorry he was, he doze off instead.

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First he felt heat on his face, then a relentless pressure on his head as if a heavy stone was on top of it Little by little he maped his body and the multiple aches that alarmed him. On his chest underneath the skin his ribs screamed with fire as if he have been kicked hard multiple times, also his lungs burned like hell, his shoulders were stiff and sore, his belly hurt faintly.

What happened? Where is he? What, what, what, what

"Jaskier Jaskier. I'm here, breathe thru your nose, I'm here." Suddenly he realized that he was sitting up and wide-eyed. It was noon. "Jask" kneeled next to him was Geralt with a worried frown and a canister fill of water. He snatched it from Geralt's hands and drank as if a desert was kept inside his lungs.

"Easy"

“Not…your…horse” Jaskier flinched at how raspy his voice sounded. Beside him, the witcher chuckled and then stretched out his hand to put it on his forehead. Before Jaskier could react at the soft touch tha hand was gone.

"Fevers down" uh, did he sound happy?

"I had fever?" Geralt looked at him with such intensity, a expression he had never seen and therefore didn't know what it meant.

"You almost died" he answered softly. She saw Roach grazing without a mount a few feet away, she also noticed that Geralt was in his small clothes. The camp was a small mess like when they stay on the same place for more than two days.

"The Endrega"

"Endregas, yes"

"I went..."

"Yes"

"I... i'm sorry"

"No, don't be, you saved me" It was a shock when Geralt straightened a lock of hair from her forehead. His fingertips were warm.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't know. I don't think so"

"You have to eat. I cooked rabbit broth, it'll do you good"

He could only swallow a quarter of the broth before starting to feel nauseous, Geralt said he had vomit enough for the past days before taking the pot from him. Roach came to say hello and Jaskier felt his heart swelled with affection. He wanted to do and ask more, but suddenly he felt tired, very tired, his eyelids fluttered and when Geralt saw him, he helped him lie down and put his cape over him. He was soft and calm, tender even. At that moment Jaskier knew that he must have been in a bad shape if Geralt was acting like this, like Jaskier always imagine on his wildest dreams.

He wanted to said thank you but it felt so meaningless at the moment, Geralt didn't look that good, slump and with drop shoulders a clear sign of exhaustion. if Jaskier still breathed, it was all thanks to Geralt, despite how defeated he was from the contract, he took care of him.

I love you seem something meaningful to say, every feeling and thought Jaskier have had of the witcher, taking form into three little words.

Sleep took him away before he could have the courage to say it.

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The next morning Jaskier insisted he was fine and he wanted to travel to the next town , of course he was a liar Geralt always knew when he lied, because he wrinkled his nose in a cute but irritating way. With a small smile, he pinched the bard's nose back to normal.

“No, you’re not ready” Jaskier let out a laugh as he smack the witcher's hand away. and before Jaskier could protest Geralt added "But we need go there to get you to a healer and reastock"

"Your letter Geralt, don't forget about your letter"

"Uhmm"

Before setting off on the journey, Geralt made sure that Jaskier could endure the journey. He applied what was left of a soothing balm to Jaskier's chest for the pain and bruises that remained after the compressions. Riding would be painful, but they have to get to the healer in case of a relapse or permanent damage. Jaskier let him applied the balm and he couldn't believe the patience and care the witcher put on his motions as if Jaskier could break if enough force was used. He was crumbling in tiny little pieces, melting, but from a different source. The witcher is going to be the end of him one day of these.

I love you, we wanted to said. He put on one of Geralt's shirt instead, it smells like onion and Roach and Geralt and smoke and safety. It smells like home.

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Riding Roach was painful and tiring, walking was out of the question He kept waiting for Geralt to get upset by the multiple stops they made but that never happen, in fact the witcher was the one who plannified and suggest to rest every one or two hours.

Something has changed between them, but the bard does not know what to name this new atmosphere, but he sure welcomes it. For the first time in all the years they have travel together Jaskier felt wanted, cared for, treasured! With a rush of happiness and satisfaction, Jaskier acknowledged that the walls Geralt has built around him to keep him out and stranded, have collapsed. He finally was someone to hold on to. Jaskier was sitting on the bed roll with a warm tea canister on his hands while the witcher set up camp to sleep the night. A day and a half away from the next town has become two days, they'll be reaching the inn (if it were any, Jaskier hope there would be) by night fall.

Geralt was stoking the fire when a mad idea occurred to him, he crawled to Geralt and before he could voiced his displeasure the bard embrace him in a tight hug. Two seconds later, Geralt hugged him back almost urgently, nuzzling his face where Jaskier's shoulder and neck met. He withdrew with a goofy smile on his face and his heart hammering on his bruised ribs, he couldn't care less. But he didn't get any far, he was a selfish man. Geralt was smiling too, a soft and crooked smile, when he straightened the bard's hair over his forehead and ears, he then, like under a spell trace his thumbs over his eyebrows and eyelids. Jaskier could die right here and then from happiness.

Their faces were so close. I love you, Jaskier wanted to say, he took Geralt's hands instead to place a kiss on each dirtied palm.

"You reek" of course Geralt would know how to break the moment.

"You too, mister. For once Roach smells better than us"

“She always smells better tan us” Jaskier snorted getting back to the bedroll pondering on how lucky he was despite the near death experience, he was a lucky men.

By the next afternoon Jaskier was beyond exhausted, every single one of his bones scream with pain, he felt as if he was about to pass out at any moment.

"Geralt..."

"We have to get going, Jaskier, only for a few hours and we'd get there"

"I can't"

"Please, Jask, I'll take care of you when we get there"

Please, what a strange word to express how much you care.

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Geralt practically carried him up the stairs to the room, Jaskier fell face first on the bed already half sleep. Geralt was placing his things when the bard murmured “Wake me up before you go in the morning." The thing is that even if he were on time to reach Eskel, Geralt didn't want to go anywhere.

Jaskier woke up sometime in the night when the mattress sagged next to him.

followed by a strong arm curling around his belly.

"Grlt'?"

"Sleep"

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Jaskier woke up to the chirping of birds on the windowsill, it was still early, the sun was not up yet. Not even the drowsiness could prevent the joy he felt and finding himself tuck to Geralt chest, they're facing each other naturally as if they have sleep like this forever.

And like a bucket of cold water thrown over him he remembered the letter "Geralt" he called softly "Geralt it's morning"

"Hmm, I can see that" came the sloppy reply, but instead of getting up Geral cuddled him more, practically tucking his face against the other's.

as if sensing his distress Geralt added "I'm not going anywhere"

"But your contact..." he withdrew (a few inches) to make a point. Geralt opened his perfect eyes and hold him under them.

"Eskel, my brother. I already send a letter, he'll understand"

"I'm sorry" a kiss was place on his forehead

"Don't be, I want to be here"

"You...you didn't want to" Geralt sighed ashamed

"I know and i'm sorry. Now I know where i belong"

"Here?" replied Jaskier with a snort

"With you"

"With me?!" Now was Geralt's turn to snort happily, resembling Roach when they feed her apples.

"You risked your life even though I was an asshole to you, even when I told you that the poison would kill you if you got anywhere near the place. I...I'm sorry"

"You were an asshole, yes" Geralt gifted him with a smile full of teeth "To be fair i was behaving like a brat at the time"

"You are a brat, yes"

"Hey"

Jaskier wanted to say I love you, instead he kiss Geralt's lips softly.

Geralt wanted to do better, so better he did.

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

the hues of an empty sky

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

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

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

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

Word count: 4539

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

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

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

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

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

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

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

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hands won't stop shaking.

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

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

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

"Are you alright, Jay?"

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

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

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

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

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dang it.

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

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

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

Right. Four seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

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

It's quiet - too quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Yes, I suppose so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

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

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

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

Sure, he'll go along with it.

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

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

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

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

"It does not-"

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

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

"Gee, which one?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You want to?"

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

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

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

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

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

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

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

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

---

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

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

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

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

[viltrumitesuperboy]

A Promise (Bucky Barnes x Male Reader)

Not so much angst as I would have liked, and the reader learns to live outside of HYDRA by himself. This feels more like an origin story than anything.

Requested by: anon Can I request a Bucky Barnes x Male reader? Maybe starts out angsty but becomes fluffy? Reader could be tasked by HYDRA to kill Bucky but remembers him from when Bucky worked for HYDRA and that he loved Bucky, and Bucky helps him get used to life outside of HYDRA?

Word count: 4105

The few times you were placed under cryostasis, your last thought was always "I will not forget..." Then you'd wake up, only with the memories of being placed under and that final thought. You remembered when you mentioned it once to one of the people in your group, and they said it was just a memory hiccup. A defect. Because as far as you knew, you were a weapon for HYDRA and had always been one. Then you were back in the chair that made you want to fight more than anything. You never repeated the same mistake again.

You weren't allowed to make mistakes on missions either, and that was how you learned. To never do anything wrong if you were on a mission. There were no feelings involved in killing, as taking a life was merely a necessity, according to your handlers.

You did, however, have some feeling for one of your fellow soldiers. The difference was that he was the Winter Soldier. You usually worked on missions together, and rarely spoke, but when you did, something about you felt less like the soldier you were trained to be. He seemed to feel the same way, if the softening of his features was anything to go by. The few moments you had with each other weren't always erased, but sometimes you'd open your eyes and find yourself remembering the tiniest mischievous grin on the Soldier's lips.

You met a young girl with fiery hair with such potential, and her skills were beyond anyone her age. It took years to get to where she was. When you found out the Winter Soldier had been training her, you felt a sense of pride, and maybe something too much for the Soldier. That was not acceptable.

Little Natalia seemed to fight differently. Unlike you and the Soldier, she felt. She was more human than you both would ever be. You realised she was fighting for her survival. She didn't want to die. Her peers would not make it if she was the one to excel, because they were the weak ones. She did not fight with passion, but she fought for something else. But her heart while fighting was just as cold as yours.

"I hope I'm the first to be dismissed from training tomorrow. I hurt myself but I couldn't tell anyone," she said once.

Hope. Perhaps that was what she was fighting for. Your train of thought broke as you saw her shifting her arm. You took Natalia to a room that wasn't being used and sat her down on a chair. As you moved to inspect the misplaced bone, the Soldier opened the door to the room.

"Soldier. I heard something in this room. Report," he said.

Damn his serum. Yours wasn't as powerful.

"Natalia is wounded."

He looked behind him into the hallway and shut the door behind him, taking long strides to where you both were. He wasn't wearing his usual clothing, but a sweater over a shirt and more comfortable pants instead. He pulled his sweater over his head and bundled it up, putting it in front of Natalia's face.

"Bite into it," he ordered.

"It's fine, my pain tolerance is high," she said.

"You're a child. You can grab my arm if needed."

He held it up to her face, and she grumbled as she did as he told. You held her arm, looking to at the Soldier for approval. When he nodded, you pushed her arm back into place. As expected, Natalia screamed into the Soldier's sweater and held tight onto his metal arm with her other hand. It took a few moments for her to calm down after he pulled his sweater away.

"Natalia, how is it now?" you asked.

"The truth," the Soldier added.

"It's a bit sore but nothing sleep can't fix," she promised.

You held your arm out for her to grab and pulled her up from her seated position. The Soldier's metal arm pulled away from Natalia's grip and the other arm pressed into her shoulder to check it.

"We're counting on you. Survive," the Soldier said, and left.

Of course you were both hoping for Natalia to make it. The fact that he knew what you were thinking almost threw you off, but you were a trained soldier, and surprise was not supposed to be something you experienced. The smallest bit of compassion from the Soldier made you wonder if there was more of that from him. He was the only person consistent to your life, and he was the one thing you could rely on to be there even when you forgot things. The next wipe couldn't erase the memory of helping Natalia with the Winter Soldier. At least that was something you remembered.

The new century brought more radical ideas. HYDRA hated them, claiming that they were the supreme leaders of the world, and no one should be thinking such ideas. You only understood that it was your duty to follow. The Winter Soldier started to behave unpredictably, escaping from his handlers during missions and sometimes taking you with him. He'd have moments of muttering to himself and headaches where he just clutched his head and whispered to himself. It wasn't unlike your own, where you would constantly ask, "What did I forget? How could I forget?" You once overheard someone dressed in a lab coat say that it was the result of wiping memories. It was normal.

On one mission, he asked, "Who the hell is Bucky?" You had no answer. That was the last time you saw him in HYDRA.

Your handlers told you that HYDRA was destroyed by the Avengers. They'd have to build again, but now without any foundation. They said that the Asset was their greatest weapon, and, if their enemies had him, there would be no more HYDRA. So they gave you a mission that gave you only one chance: kill the Winter Soldier.

You were a good soldier. You had trained for years and you had trained with him. No matter what you went through over the years with the Soldier, you had to complete your mission. His death did not matter to you. Or, at least, it shouldn't have.

You kept track of him for a long time. One of his first actions was going to a museum that held a memorial for one of the Avengers. You went inside yourself one day, finding a man from the 1940's who looked just like him alongside the Avenger. He looked more carefree in the older photos, and looked less haunted like the Soldier did now. It was a handsome face, and one that you could not care for.

Every time you were on a rooftop pointing a sniper straight at his head, you found yourself unable to pull the trigger. After two weeks, HYDRA pulled you back, saying he was too well-known, and HYDRA did not have the resources to hide a death like his. Everyone was looking for him, and if he died by HYDRA's hands, it would no longer exist.

It took more than a year for the next time he was mentioned again. He had made contact with Captain America, both of whom were now refugees on the run from the nation itself. You wondered if you would have been like one of them if HYDRA had been truly destroyed.

Its foundations were weak and constantly falling apart. Someone was always dying, and no one knew who was doing the killing. You suspected Natalia had been doing it, but said nothing. After all, she was a grown woman now. Somewhere deep down, you were impressed that she had made such a big name for herself but still managed to kill under the radar. The Soldier likely would have thought the same.

At this point, him being a refugee was the perfect time for him to die, according to HYDRA. Giving the world control over these "superheroes" would align with HYDRA's ideas. For once, some of the Avengers were in agreement. Removing the Captain's main driving factor, his "James Buchanan Barnes," would further push the Sokovia Accords. You returned to your previous unfinished mission.

It was another few weeks of following the Soldier. He seemed less like you. He was different from the Soldier you knew, and emotions tore him apart sometimes. You saw him having more of his fits, but he had Steve Rogers to depend on. They were frequently close together, and you were angry seeing them like that. You were once on the Soldier's side, the person he was meant to depend on. What changed? Why did you have to kill him now?

When you had your first chance, you finally pulled the trigger. Dread suddenly took over part of you, but a metal arm flung up to stop the bullet, and the Soldier glared through the hole in the glass. You knew he could probably see your silhouette, but you were too far to catch. He knew you were trying to kill him now. Leaving now meant that he could escape, and maybe even far enough that you couldn't follow. You supposed you'd have to meet him in the middle. A packed sniper on your back and running across the roofs of the European city had you facing him, your gun pointed at his head and his metal arm at the ready.

"Look, we don't need to fight. Whoever sent you to kill me, tell them I won't kill another innocent again," he pleaded.

"I think that's the problem," you muttered, and a shot rang out.

Something else knocked the bullet off course this time, the accuracy and strength too much to be human.

"Steve Rogers," you stated. "This is not your fight."

"No, this is no one's fight," the Soldier said. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Your mask was similar to his before he escaped HYDRA. You reached up with the hand not holding the gun and pulled it off. His eyes widened in recognition.

"They said you need to die. I'm supposed to be the one to do it," you said.

Your gun was no longer useful, so you dropped it and charged at the Captain, knocking him off balance so you could get to the Soldier. You threw punches and your entire torso into it, but the Soldier was on the defensive and blocked every single thing you threw at him.

"(Y/N)!" the Captain shouted behind you.

You whipped around glaring at him.

"Who the hell is (Y/N)?" you asked.

You felt a throbbing in your head and dropped to your knees as you clutched your temples.

Who the hell is Bucky?

"Who... who is Bucky?!" you growled, then turned on the Soldier. "You are a traitor! You need to die!"

"(Y/N), I'm Bucky. I'm your friend. We did missions together but we were forced to. You're being brainwashed by HYDRA. It's not you," the Soldier said.

His words sounded like a promise. It felt like you sat there for an hour, his hand on your back in comfort. Your head was still throbbing, but you managed to open your mouth again.

"I wasn't in the museum," you said.

"No, you weren't," Bucky quietly replied. "Do you know why?"

"We had to hide, right? There was something I felt, right here, whenever we were together, before you left."

Your hand patted your chest, and you looked up at him through watery eyes.

"Who am I?"

——��

The Second World War

Bucky was dead.

That was what they told his family. You had to hear from his mother, who was the only one who knew about your relationship. You bonded with the rest of his family, mourning together when they learned that you both had loved each other. Then Captain America died, and everything got worse. Two of your closest friends had died in close succession, and one was a supersoldier. He wasn't supposed to die. You vowed to take down those who had killed them.

You sent a letter to Dr. Erskine, who Bucky once mentioned in one of his letters. You asked to help him in the war, telling him that both heroes who died were your friends and you would take their place in fighting for the war effort. Instead, Margaret Carter responded, telling you that Dr. Erskine had been in an accident a few months prior, and sent someone to bring you to a bunker where she was currently working.

Together you found places where HYDRA was hiding, different areas all around the world. You quickly learned the strategies needed to fight them on the battlefield and behind the scenes out of necessity. The first time you were on the field, you had no idea it would be your last. The rest of your group had been killed. You were captured and brought down deep into the quieter, darker confines of the bunker. Because you were already wounded, fighting would have done little for your situation. It was clear they wanted you alive.

"So nice to finally meet you. Your... friend has spoken of you," said the stranger you were placed in front of. "We have heard that you are the best in strategy. Hopefully your removal will prevent more of our branches being taken apart. You work for us now."

"What friend?"

"Your boyfriend."

His tone was hateful and goading you to become angry. You said nothing. They wouldn't give you information. If he was alive and in HYDRA's hands, you couldn't save him anymore.

"You will be moved soon for... recalibration. Take our newest recruit to experimentation."

You fought, but to no avail.

———

You found yourself in the room that you had just shot a bullet into. The sun was already up, and the Captain and the Winter Soldier stood next to each other in the very small kitchen area. The Soldier leaned with his back to the wall as he spoke with the Captain quietly, though it sounded like a disagreement.

"So are we supposed to go to Wakanda now? If they have anything to help me, how do we know if (Y/N) wants that help too?"

"All I'm saying is that it's our best chance. And if he doesn't want the help, at least we're here if he needs us. And I know how much he meant to you before... everything. I know he still means something to you now."

They looked over as you sat up, leaning against the wall behind you. The Soldier walked over and held out a hand to steady you. You nodded to give him permission.

"You're burning up. I don't think your body is agreeing with remembering things. It wasn't as bad for me but I think the serum did more for me than you."

"Just like alcohol," you muttered. "Watered down."

The Captain smiled, "Glad to see you still have a sense of humour. And it's just as bad."

You were too weak to stand up, much less throw a punch at his stupid insulting face. The Soldier laid you back down.

"We're leaving soon. You'll be resting the whole way, but we'll keep an eye on you."

It sounded like a promise, and you believed him.

When you woke again, it was in a small jet. Bucky sat next to you, his hand grasping yours. Your first instinct was to fight, but Bucky's hand seemed to ground you.

"Take it easy. We're in the quinjet and flying to Wakanda. It was a hidden society in Africa with technology beyond anything else in the world. We're hoping they can help Bucky from reacting to the trigger words that HYDRA brainwashed him with," Steve said. "Same with you."

He helped you sit up when you didn't seem to want to fight anymore. For the first time, you felt like you were relaxed. No handlers were keeping an eye on you, and you were alone with two people you could barely remember, but they just seemed like people you didn't need to fight for once.

"I'm Bucky, and that's Steve. We were born decades ago, and the world war separated us all from each other. You and I were controlled by Nazis, and Steve was found a few years ago. You weren't supposed to be in the war."

He looked solemn, and Steve gave him a reassuring smile. You watched both of them carefully.

"Keep talking, Buck. Is there anything else you remember?" Steve asked.

"When we were seeing Stark's demonstration of his flying car, I took you and (Y/N) with me. We'd gone with some girls, and two were a couple, so we could all be on a date without getting in trouble for it. Well, except for you. No offence, Steve. Didn't mean to make you a third wheel."

"None taken. I don't think any of us were really third wheels. We were best friends, and you and (Y/N) were together. And I became friends with him after."

"Aw, we're not best friends anymore?"

"You'll always be my best friend, Buck. 'Till the end of the line."

"End of the line."

You muttered, "That's so cheesy."

"Yeah, and you know what weird thing you'd say with Bucky?" Steve teased.

"I'd punch a Nazi before admitting that I love you," you recited.

"And you've punched ten," Bucky said with a fond smile. "Probably more by now."

"I'm not the same person I was before, Bucky," you said. "You're not either, but you've remembered more than I have. I don't feel like a blank slate, but I don't feel like I need to... kill you. And I don't want to."

"Everything feels like it's closing in on you all the time, right?" Bucky asked. "Like you don't know where to go, and the people you think you can trust are going to be your next enemy?"

You nodded.

"That's how I felt, too. But you trusted me before HYDRA, and you trusted me during it. If we both can get through that together, we can get through this too."

You lightly squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, maybe."

———

They couldn't help, so Bucky wanted to go under cryostasis. He felt that it was dangerous for him to be conscious. You almost thought that it was a good idea for yourself too, but you took one look at the goat currently nibbling at your shirt and felt that you still needed some time to yourself being out of HYDRA's control. Bucky gave you a hug before he stepped into the chamber, and you stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. It was the safest you remembered feeling. Steve looked at the chamber, troubled. He turned away when Bucky was inside, and you placed your hand on his shoulder in understanding. Steve didn't like the cold, and seeing his friend in the same position was painful.

The Wakandans provided for you. You worked on a farm in near solitude, the occasional patrol guards making sure that you were safe and the goats giving you a friendship you didn't know existed. Shuri worked hard on finding a cure for the both of you, and she and her brother came to see you a few times. They were both good friends to you, but T'Challa liked the goats more than Shuri did. She was too busy talking about her new inventions to spend too much time with the goats. She'd come to you with ideas about Bucky's new metal arm, asking about your own experience with the serum to get an idea of his strength and abilities.

Their technology was groundbreaking, and they managed to find a way to remove the effects of brainwashing from the mind. By the time Bucky was out of cryostasis, they'd already finished the procedure on you. You had offered to be their first in case they made a mistake, hoping that if you didn't make it, Bucky would. As all things in Wakanda worked, it was flawless. Bucky found out about what you had said when Shuri had mentioned it in passing. He was angry at first, but cooled down once he saw you. He said that it was so much like you to do something like that for the people you cared most about.

You didn't feel much different from before, but you were remembering things with less effort. Your experience in HYDRA, though terrifying, was one that you saw from your own eyes. It felt like somebody else's. Shuri assured you that it was not you, and everything that you could do under your own control was who you were. You stayed by Bucky's side until he needed to have the procedure as well. He came back to you looking relaxed, even without an arm, as if the world was revolving around him. Then you spent about an hour listening to Shuri rant about her technology, which T'Challa had to cut in to explain issues regarding the nations outside of Wakanda and the politics surrounding your situation. He finished with letting you both know that Wakanda was always open to you.

Shuri said that she still had a "broken white boy's arm" to fix, and that if either of you left, she'd hunt you down herself.

For the first time since Bucky was out of the chamber, he spoke: "Do you remember Natalia? She's Natasha now."

"Yes, and I think she's grown up well. When we fixed her arm, that was when I knew that you were just a little bit human."

He was quiet for a bit, and his hand reached out for yours. You met in the middle.

"I think we need to learn about each other again," he said, his hand clenching yours.

"Well, I think you should meet the goats first."

He loved the goats.

He loved the farm you worked on. It was big, but worked for you as someone with super serum. Bucky enjoyed working on it too, saying it was a good way to get out his energy. But mostly he played with the goats.

Bucky was better now than how you remembered him in the past. He was understanding of what you both had gone through and it was easy to communicate with him, even when neither of you wanted to speak. There was no disconnect from the Bucky then and Bucky now. It was just him. He was exactly what you needed in the past and he was what you needed in the present.

You finished pulling out weeds from the last area of the farm, checking for any diseased plants as you went. You looked up, and found Bucky feeding some of the weeds to the goats that had run up to him. They nibbled at his fingers, and he laughed as he sat on the ground to pet every single one of their heads. His hair was pulled back in a bun and the cloth he wore was saturated in the sun's glare. You picked up the weeds you had pulled, which weren't many because you worked on the farm all the time, and headed over to him. He smiled as you pulled him up from the pile of goats.

"Are we going to the market now?" he asked.

"I think I'm ready to admit that I love you," you said.

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed, then his face lit into a bright smile.

"How many Nazis have you punched?" he joked.

"Depends on how many we meet," you replied. "Did you know there are people called 'neo-Nazis'? For every single one of them we meet that I don't punch is a day that I don't love you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Of course."

"Then I promise that I'll always love you. And I'll tell you for as long as you need me to."

You both headed to the road that led into the more populated towns, hand in hand as you walked up the hill.

"I never believed in soulmates," Bucky began as he shifted to intertwine his fingers with yours, "but I think this is the closest I'll ever find. We've been there for each other when we needed each other most, and I want our future to be the same."

You didn't answer, stopping to pull him into a kiss instead. He returned it with just as much enthusiasm. When you were called to fight a world-threatening event, you were finally ready, and you did it together.

[persephones-wren]

Assassination Masquerade | Act I (II) | Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: swearing(?), threats(?)

Genre: Unclassified

A/N: I was not expecting the amount of attention I got on my last post- really surprised to see how many people liked it so I just decided to write the second part in one go as a little surprise thing? I dunno, but enjoy :) 

Word Count: 1510

It was winter by the time Kaz had first acknowledged, perhaps even appreciated, your ability to think through things the way he had.

The air was crisp and dirty snow filled the streets, and his office was frustratingly cold as he tried to work on the plan to take the stunning set of pistols for bid at the auction house. His head hurt for the third day in a row, his leg throbbed more than usual, and nothing in the plan came together. Plan A, Inej dies, Plan B, Jesper would be in some deep shit, so on and so forth. He was close to running out of letters.

A knock sounded at the door, and he let out a harsh sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who is it?”

“It’s Y/N,” your voice called through the door. “I have tea. Nina insisted I give it to you.”

Nina. He had been sporting a headache for the past couple of days, and his mood had considerably worsened, not that he’d think anyone would’ve noticed. His mood was pretty static, and he didn’t talk much to others; there was a small chance they would have noticed his increased temper. Besides, he was always thinking, brooding. A headache didn’t change the way he was that much.

“Tell her to stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Even if you are fine, this still seems like good tea. Shame for it to go to waste.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then just leave it out the door, thanks.” “Yeah, sorry, can’t do that, Brekker. I know you hate being coddled, but she wants to make sure you actually drink it.”

“Tell her I will, and that if she doesn’t leave me alone about it, I’m going to go to her personally with more than just some kind words.”

Maybe headaches did worsen his mood noticeably, he mused. Threatening a Heartrender wasn’t above him, but he at least thought about it first.

“Well, I don’t really feel like bringing back the tea and pissing her off. I’d rather your rage later than Nina now.”

Really? That was certainly something he hadn’t expected. Him angry over Nina? What had she threatened you with, a comatose state?

You opened the door timidly and stepped forward, carefully holding the cup and saucer as you continued towards his desk. You pretended the scathing glare he sent your way had no effect on you, and set the tea next to the auction blueprints with a small thump.

“Forget Nina, it’s you who’s going to have a broken arm the next time I see you.”

You gave him a dry smile. “Oh, charismatic Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel and Leader of the Crows, would you please spare me some mercy from your vengeful wrath? What ever did I do to deserve it?”

What were you doing? Were you an idiot, were you trying to get yourself killed? No one sasses Kaz Brekker, especially not a girl he’s known for two months. You’re fucked in the head. He’s thrown out prized investments the moment they aren’t any use to him. You’re not even an investment, you’re a nobody. He could undo the protection he’d granted at any moment.

“I might kill you. You are, quite possibly, less of a delight than Jesper is.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” a corner of your mouth tips up. His scowl deepens, and you smile sheepishly. You glance over the plans at the desk. “Sorry, sorry. What are you mulling over?”

He chooses to say nothing, sipping the tea and leaning back in his chair, watching you wait for an answer.

Hopefully you’d leave him alone. He was only half kidding about the broken arm.

“Very helpful,” you bite out, and you glance at the plans, running through all the different buildings you know close by. He wouldn’t choose somewhere far, not in the winter. “This is the auction house just a bit outside Ketterdam. You’re planning to steal the pistols. To sell, or for Jesper?”

“What do you think?”

“Probably not to sell, considering if something goes missing at the auction house, it’s high profile,” you conclude. “So what part of the plan are you stuck on?”

“The guard rotations.”

Your face morphs into one of surprise, he never admits where he’s stuck, maybe his headache really had drained him more than you thought. He says nothing more, and watches as the cogs turn in your brain.

The guard rotations. You squint at the paper. They cover all entrances and exits. They move throughout the hallways, and they’ll keep changing locations, meaning that if a rotation of guards doesn’t show up at the right time, the alarm will be raised. You’ll be caught, either in the room or trying to escape the halls.

“Do you know how they move?” you decide to ask.

“Of course.” He crosses his arms, still silent.

“Care to elaborate?” you prompt.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright,” you mutter. “Jackass,” you swear under your breath. He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at the window. Your eyes are still on the blueprints.

You can’t get out if the alarms are raised, meaning that the priority should be to stay undetected. Have Inej go to the roof, and camp out there. You could take out the guards and have two of the crew dress up as the guards. They move with the rotations. Take out the guards three rotations before the door, so that the crew guards the door when the auctioneer finally gets there. Delay, delay, and delay. That’ll give Inej the time to slip in and replace the pistols with shittier guns. Then wait until the rotation of the guards switches to the outside, where the crew could then flee.

“I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Go on, then. I don’t have time to waste, Inej is going to be here with nightly reports any minute.”

“Right,” you swallow. “Get Inej to the roof, on the wall where the pistols are kept. Take out two of the guards and impersonate them for rotations.”

“Can’t do that. They’d find the bodies in the auction room, and alarms would be triggered.”

“Don’t start at the auction room, then,” you reason. “Start three rotations back from the auction room. You can find some cover there, presumably. It’ll be easier to hide bodies there than in an empty room. Moving on,” you continue, “the point is to have two of you guard the door when the auctioneer is there.  You can continuously delay and deny him entry while Inej swaps the guns with worse ones.”

“They’ll know the ones are fake,” he shoots blindly at your plan, but he already knows where this is going. He just wants to see if you get past his counters.

“That doesn’t matter. Even when alarms are triggered, rotations still continue. Two rotations from the auction house, you’ll be in the courtyard. Inej will still be on the roof, if you and Jesper are impersonating guards, then you’ll be outside. As long as you’re convincing enough, you can flee from the courtyard after it’s over, and Inej can meet you there.”

“And if we’re not good enough actors?” he points out.

“If you’re not? You’ve impersonated hundreds of guards. Don’t give me that,” you frown. “We both know that you’ll be a fine guard.” “Will Jesper, though?”

“I don’t know, has he done it before?”

“He has,” Kaz says slowly, “but he’ll need to be on transportation most of the night.”

“Okay, well then, uh…maybe you could take along someone else. Like Wylan.”

There’s another heavy silence as he thinks it over, before another voice rings out.

“All in all, though, it’s not a bad plan. Y/N would certainly be good to take along with us. She could be your second guard.” The shadows step forward, and Inej is there, wearing her signature cloak.

“How the hell do you do that,” you breathe out quietly. “Hi, Inej.”

“Does she know how to fight? And does she know how to act?” Kaz counters, and then their eyes are both on you.

“Scrappily,” you concede. “I’m not great, but I play underhanded. I’ll give you a great chance that I can hurt the guards. Undetected though? Most likely not. And as for acting- I can’t lie to you and say I’m great, but probably passable. I stood guard for Vukovic some of the time.”

“Train with Jesper on how to shoot and Inej will teach you something on how to be quiet. The auction is in two weeks. I’ll finalize the details.”

“I’m going?” you ask.

“Crappy acting I can somewhat deal with. The rest? Depends on how good you are.”

“Okay,” you nod, but even you can hear the muffled undertones of anticipation in your voice.

“Right then,” Kaz nods. “Good that you can be of use. Now. Out.”

Even with his twisted way of saying thank you, there’s a brief look of appreciation from Kaz as you shut the door to his office, a small smile on your face.

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia au pt 16)

Not Broken Masterlist 

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten’s a cross-dressing madam so….. yeah read it ya freaks.

Trigger Warning: mentions of past abuse

Beep! Beep! Beep!

My head instinctively turned to stare at the alarm. I watched as it continued to beep. Usually, the harsh tones of the alarm were enough launch me out of bed. Every morning I somehow managed to reach the ungodly contraption to silence it before it even began to muster out its third beep.  

Not today though.  

I had been lying awake long before my alarm started to sing its first note. I had just been staring at the ceiling, anticipating the events that were to come. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get at least a bit of sleep. I probably managed to get in a few hours before waking up to see that the neon green numbers I had gotten used to seeing read, 2:46 a.m.  

My mind was too anxious to fall back asleep, but my body was too stubborn to leave the comfort of the satin sheets which were messily draped over my body.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what awaited me and I felt as though leaving my bed would be what put said events into motion. Thus, when my alarm began ringing, signaling to me that it was time to get up, instead of rushing to towards it, I merely stared at it. I continued staring until the digital clock changed from 4:00 to 4:01 and then to 4:02 and finally to 4:03 before I decided it would be best to put an end to the incessant beeping before it caused a disturbance to those who still might be sleeping.  

I dragged my body towards the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked dead, not like I cared. In a way, I felt as though I might actually be dead; that perhaps I died long ago and that every event since my death was the result of divine punishment. Punishment for what, I didn’t know.  

I chuckled at the overly dramatic thought.

I splashed cold water onto my face in an attempt to return my rationalities, though it was no use. There was nothing rational about my situation, so how could I think rationally while in it?

I instinctively began brushing my hair, before stopping midway to curse myself. It was like I could see into the future. That narcissistic scumbag, Jaehyun, would interpret any step I took to freshen up as an attempt to impress him, something I definitely didn’t want him thinking.  

When I trained with Jeno, it would take me roughly an hour to fully wake myself up, get dressed, and freshen up before heading down to the training room around 4:50. I could tell that today, I wouldn’t need as much time to ready myself.  

I quickly tied my hair up in a ponytail, simply to keep it out of my face. When I opened my closet, Jaehyun’s words found themselves at the front of my mind.

“You should wear something blue. The color suits you.”

I scoffed to myself as I grabbed the first blue piece of clothing I saw and threw it to the side, missing the trashcan by more than a few feet. I instead picked out a yellow workout shirt and grabbed my regular leggings from the floor. I only had a few pair of leggings so I would often re-wear the same pair, not wanting to wash them after every use. I brought the leggings up to my nose and smelled the already worn-out fabric. They were definitely reaching the point where they needed a wash. I put them on anyway. A part of me hoped that the smell of old sweat would keep Jaehyun from making any advances, or at least turn him off from the thought.  

It reminded me of how women would skip shaving their legs before a date to prevent themselves from going home with a guy, though in my case, it was like putting my legs on display to keep the guy from thinking I’d want to go home with her in the first place.  

I looked at the clock.  

4:34.

I definitely finished getting ready much earlier than usual, but I didn’t want to make any steps towards the door just yet. I even considered waiting until it was after 5:00 to leave my room, just to spite Jaehyun for telling me that being late wasn’t an option. This thought lost traction as soon as I remembered the things Jaehyun was capable of when even just the tiniest bit annoyed.  

Better not to anger him.

<><><><><><>

“Right on time, babe,” Jaehyun welcomed me in the most unwelcoming way possible.

He was already on sitting on one of the weight machines. From the beads of sweat that dripped down his jaw on onto his white t-shirt, I could tell that he had already gotten in quite the workout. I wondered how long he had been there for.  

I didn’t want to ignore him, but I didn’t want to exactly engage with him in conversation either, so I gave him my best “fuck you” smile and proceeded to set my water bottle down on the mat.

“What?  No greeting? Not even any pleasantries?” Jaehyun asked as he stood up from the machine. He stared back at me using one of the gym’s towels to wipe his red tinted face.  

I silently scoffed, smiling at his audacity.  

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hello Jaehyun! How are you? Still holding women captive and forcing them to be your bride? Oh, you are? Well, isn’t that just swell?”  

I expected Jaehyun to snap at me for such insolence, or to at least look a little upset, but he just smiled back at me and laughed.  

“That’s funny,” He said wagging his finger at me.  

“Just remember, who’s training you for the next hour.”

I froze, unconsciously biting my tongue. He was right. I shouldn’t push my luck too much. I had no idea why Jaehyun was in such a good mood this morning, but I knew it was in my best interest for it to stay that way. At least until after our little competition.  

Like a beaten dog who’s finely entuned to their master’s change in mood, I noticed a sudden glint of disappointment in his eyes. I watched them trail over my body in search of something he just couldn’t find.  

Once he noticed my noticing, he exhaled abruptly as if he were expelling his thoughts along with his breath.  

“Let’s start by going over yesterday’s match.“

I stared at him silently, waiting for him to elaborate further.  

Jaehyun looked away briefly, clearing his throat in order to break the silence.  

“I am of course, referring to the tactic you used...”

I continued to stare at him not quite sure where he was going. He stared back, gauging my reactions.  

“-or am I just assuming that your decision to storm me was a strategical one?”  

“Does it matter? It didn’t work,” I responded.  

Jaehyun relaxed a little.  

“Ah. So, it was thought out.”

I silently sighed to myself, ready for him to explain why my strategy was flawed or how my impulsiveness is what led to my defeat. I already began piecing together my response. I’d probably ask him how else I was supposed to fight against someone much stronger than myself, or if there even was such a tactic. I could feel the words bubble in my throat waiting for the criticisms, he was about to list.

“You surprised me. That’s not something that happens very often. You should be proud.”

“Wait, what?” I blurted out, suddenly breaking my façade of nonchalance.  

Jaehyun’s eyes widened a bit only for them to crinkle as he laughed.  

“What? Were you expecting me to say something else?”

I reached my hand up to rub the back of my neck. Once Jaehyun understood that I wasn’t going to give any more of a reply, he flashed me a smile that seemed too genuine to have come from a man so... well, ingenuine.  

“I’m being serious. I was really quite impressed. You were fighting against someone you had no chance of winning against, at least not with physical prowess, so you came up with a strategy and not just any strategy, a good one. You understood that I had certain expectations of you and you somehow managed to subvert those expectations in your favor. I had expected you to be hesitant in your actions and assumed that you would wait for me to make the first move. Yet, as soon as the whistle blew you came at me full force. I mean-” Jaehyun stopped abruptly to stare at me.

I was smiling.  

I hadn’t meant to. I just wasn’t thinking about it. I mean, could you blame me? Maybe it was just my ego. What can I say? I’m the type of person who likes being praised. Sue me.  

As soon as I realized why the sudden pause, I forced my face back into one of disinterest. I silently prayed that he would let it slide just this once.  

He didn’t.

“Don’t get big-headed on me now. Just because a cat learns it has stripes, it doesn’t suddenly make it a tiger. You still have a long way to go before you’re ready to use your claws,” He said with a smirk.

I couldn’t tell who I was more embarrassed for; me, for having come across as a girl who just got called pretty by her crush, or him, for having used such a cheesy metaphor, one he was somehow proud of.  

“Now let’s go over some technique. Yesterday, when you charged me, I used a simple maneuver to use your own force against you. Come over here, I’ll show you,” He explained, walking towards the center of the mat.

I hesitated but opted to follow suit as he had instructed. I stopped when I was roughly 4 feet in front of him.  

He took a few steps closer, causing me to back away.  

He paused.  

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to slam you down this time. I’m just going to show you what I did so that you can learn how to avoid it next time, or perhaps even do the same to me.”

I didn’t back away because I thought that he would slam me down on the mat. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just didn’t really feel comfortable with being handled by him, even if it was for instructional purposes.  

He stood there, waiting for me to come closer. When I didn’t, he took another step towards me instead.  

Again, I took a step back.  

Jaehyun let out a sigh.  

“How am I supposed to teach you if you won’t even let me touch you?” He asked, obviously annoyed.

“Can’t you just explain it to me verbally?”

“Of course, not. Even if I were to show you the move by doing it on someone else, that doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to recreate it when push comes to shove. Muscle memory is important. You should know that as a dancer.”

I quirked my head to the side.

“You can learn to dance from watching others dance.” I retorted.  

Jaehyun stared at me as if he were a teacher waiting for a disruptive student to stop acting out.

I looked down at the floor.  

“That may be true when preforming a solo act,” He began.  

“But what about when you’re learning a choreography that includes more than one person?”

“Then we practice the choreo on our own. Even when we practice together, it’s not like we really need each other,” I asserted.  

Jaehyun groaned.  

“I’m talking about dances that directly rely on being in sync with the other person’s moves. Like this.”  

Before I could dodge his advance, Jaehyun wrapped his arm around me, capturing my waist and pulling my body into his so that our chests were practically pressed together. I tried to wriggle my way out of his grip but before I could, he used his other hand to grab mine, tightly squeezing it as if warning me that he was not in the mood to play games.  

“Can you waltz?” He asked.

“Never tried it.” I answered.

Without any other warning, Jaehyun began moving his feet dragging me along with him.  

As he moved in precise uniform movements, I stumbled around awkwardly, somehow managing to step onto his feet with every other step. Instead of scolding me, Jaehyun continued to waltz, ignoring my steps as though I were merely a ragdoll he was throwing around as he danced to a song only he could hear.

“The Waltz is a uniform dance with very little room for variance. One could learn the steps and even master them on their own only to flounder around like a fish when matched with a partner.”  

“Yeah, but you can’t exactly learn the steps from practice alone. You need some sort of instruction,” I complained.  

Jaehyun’s steps came to a sudden halt. Instead of releasing me like I had expected him to, he let my body fall, catching it in what I recognized as a “dip.”

“I completely agree, so why don’t we do a little of both? I’ll lead.”  

He released his grip on me and I fell flat onto the mat.  

I sat up, seething with annoyance. Jaehyun stared at me, arms crossed and with a grin so wicked, it’d make the devil anxious, though I’d be surprised if a devil greater than Jaehyun truly existed.

<><><><><><>

Jaehyun showed me exactly how he managed to pin me down so fast. When I came running towards him, he applied a heavy pressure to the top of my chest, thus using my own force against me. He explained that by stalling my upper half, I actually did half of the work for him in knocking me down. Because I had charged so fast, my legs barely had any time to catch up as my upper half was held in place, so they continued to run, flipping me onto my back.  

Once I understood where exactly I went wrong, Jaehyun spent the first half of our session showing me different ways to keep myself guarded against an attack so that I could, in his words, “not be used as a weapon against myself.” The second half of the session was spent showing me examples of ways I could use someone’s force against themselves as he did had done to me. This part was my favorite because Jaehyun let himself fall to the mat every time I followed his instruction in order to show me exactly how the move would work. Even though I knew he was letting me take him down for practice’s sake, I still enjoyed hearing the loud smack it made when his body came in contact with the mat.  

When we finished, he tossed me my water bottle. I quickly down the remainder of its contents.  

“Here, toss it back,” Jaehyun called out, his hand outstretched.  

I did as he instructed.  

He began walking away motioning for me to follow.  

Once we made it to the water fountain, Jaehyun opened my bottle and filled it, tossing it back to me before taking his turn to drink directly from the fountain.  

I stood there watching him, unsure of what else I could do.  

Once he finished, he turned to me.  

“How’s your rib feeling?”  

“My rib?”  

I looked down at my torso having remembered where Taeyong had touched it. The pain, which was sharp and sudden at the time, had now turned into a dull constant.  

“It’s alright, I guess. Better at least.” I informed him.

Jaehyun looked at me, navigating whether or not I was lying.

“Good, that’s good. I was worried that after yesterday I might have made it worse.”  

It was strange. I knew that he was the one who broke it in the first place, but that didn’t keep me from seeing his sincerity.  

“I’ll try my best to avoid damaging it any further during our match. I’m sorry that’s all I can do for you given the circumstances of our bet.”

I knew that his statement was bullshit. I mean, he knew about my rib when he decided upon the terms of our bet. I knew that fighting him on the matter would be pointless though.  

“Will it go back to the way it was before it was broken?” I asked.  

Jaehyun seemed caught off guard by the sudden question.  

He took a second to think.  

“Are you trying to ask if it will heal properly, or if it’ll go back to the way it was before it was broken?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked.

Jaehyun gave me a look that seemed to question if I really didn’t know already.

I quirked my head to the side showing him that, no, I really didn’t know.

“When a bone breaks, it's because the bone’s developed a fracture.”

“Okay?” I scoffed, asking if he was really trying to explain what a broken bone was to me.  

“Just, listen,” He continued.

“During the healing process, a callous of extra strong bone forms around the fracture, bonding it together again. This new extra strong bone is meant to protect the fracture as the bone heals but once the bone is fully healed, the area of the fracture is stronger than it was before the break ever occurred so-”

“So, bones heal stronger?” I interrupted.

Jaehyun smiled gently towards me and took a step closer.  

“Y/N, I can’t tell you that your rib will go back to the way it was before, because that wouldn’t be the truth. What I can tell you though, is that maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Jaehyun reached a hand out towards me. Before I could think about it, I jerked away from his touch.  

Jaehyun hesitated before reeling his hand back. He looked away from me for a second before returning his gaze to mine.

“We should probably start today’s match so that you have enough time to get ready.“

<><><><><><>

Just like the day before, Taeyong blew the whistle and shortly after, I was pinned to the ground. This time I didn’t charge at him, instead I chose to go on the defense. It didn’t take long for Jaehyun to make his move, pinning me instantly. Luckily for me, I didn’t suffer any pain, just frustration. It was like Jaehyun had just picked me up and set me down, easily managing to hold me there until Taeyong called the match.  

I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still disappointed. The Jaehyun’s newly discovered tenderness from before the match had disappeared, immediately replaced with his usual dirtbag self. Not more than a second after the match had ended, he instructed Taeyong to escort me back to my room to catch me up on today’s plans. Before he left the room, he turned back towards me as I just gotten back on my feet and said, “Don’t be late now, Honey.”

I scoffed at him. He laughed at my reaction which made me want to do a lot more than just scoff at him. I was caught off guard by his sudden usage of the pet name I had called him at dinner the night before. It became clear to me that that’s why he used it instead of opting for “Kitten,” like I had come to expect from him. When spoken by him, the word felt less like a term of endearment and more like a taunt, though a taunt was still better than a threat.  

“At least he’s in a good mood,” I thought to myself.  

Taeyong brought me back to my room, instructing me to shower and put on the dress he left for me on the bed. Once I did as I was asked, I opened the door to let Taeyong back in only to see that both Haechan and Jaemin had been waiting there with him.  

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Wow, Y/n. You aren’t gonna ask why I’m here?” Haechan pouted over-dramatically.

“I already know why you’re here, Dongfuck. You don’t have a life and so you like to drop in on mine,” I quipped lightheartedly, suddenly realizing that I had to come up with a new nickname for Haechan now that I’d discovered that his name was, well... Haechan.

Fuck, what insult even rhymes with Haechan? Faketan? No that’s stupid and probably problematic. Besides, Haechan’s darker skin tone is literal perfection. Even I have to admit that.

I physically shook my head before going on.  

“I’m asking why Jaemin’s here because he normally takes care of Jisung and Chenle around this time of day.”

I turned to Jaemin who simply laughed as Haechan stuck his tongue out at me. 

“Wow, you really were close friends before this, weren’t you?” He commented.

“What do you mean were? Haechan demanded wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Y/n and I are still as close as a pair of conjoined twins.”

“Please, never use that metaphor ever again.” I sighed already exhausted from the encounter.  

“Anyways, today you’re going to be officially meeting Chenle and Jisung as their soon to be sister-in law. Jaemin is here to make sure that it goes well,” Haechan explained, answering for Jaemin before the poor man even had the chance to open his mouth.  

“Wait, what?”

Instead of explaining further, Haechan guided me towards the vanity, sitting me down in the chair, and immediately going to work on my hair.  

Taeyong and Jaemin both sat on the bed and got to explaining the situation.  

“So, as you already know, Jaehyun has two younger brothers, Chenle and Jisung. I believe that you’ve already met them before, but as a hostage, not as their sister-in-law.  

My mind flashed back to meeting the two younger boys back when I still had horrible bruising all over my face. I recalled the image of a queasy Chenle, asking if his brother really was the one who did that to me.

“I can’t tell them the same story, I told Jessi. They already know that Jaehyun was the one who nearly beat me within an inch of my life!”  

Taeyong and Jaemin looked at each other, obviously aware of something I was not. Haechan on the other hand, continued to act like a dumbass.  

“Ooh! Already on a first name basis with the former lady of the house, are we? So, I take it you’ve successfully gained Jessi’s approval, not that I’m surprised. Personality wise, it’d easier to believe she was your mother than Jaehyun’s. I mean-”  

“We’ve already taken that into consideration,” Taeyong began, cutting Haechan off right in the middle of his rant.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just leave since I’m just gonna be a nuisance,” Haechan pouted.  

When no one acknowledged him, he scoffed in annoyance, but stayed quiet.  

“You see, the boys actually know a lot more than just that,” He continued, glancing at a now sheepish Jaemin.  

“The boys have a habit of eavesdropping and while they were supposed to be in my care... I accidentally fell asleep and they listened in on one of the group’s official meetings.” Jaemin admitted.  

“At the time, you were still under suspicion for IU’s death.” Taeyong explained.  

A look of horror took over my face, causing one to come over Taeyong as well.

“D-don’t worry! Everything has been cleared up. They know that you are not responsible for the death of their sister. They have also been informed that you are responsible for the death of Lucas. They know that you killed him on accident in an attempt to fight for your life, though out of respect for you I didn’t going to any other details of what you went through that night.” He said in an attempt to reassure me.

“Wait, but if they know the truth then what about-”

“Mrs. Ho? She is to remain in the dark about the true nature behind Jaehyun’s and your relationship. They understand the gravity of the situation and have been instructed to speak as little as possible about anything that might rouse suspicion. Jaehyun and I have also decided that it would be best to pretend as though you’ve become something of an older sister to the two of them, but that this is the first they are hearing about your engagement. That’s why Jaemin is here, to help you learn as much as you can about the boys to make this ruse as believable as possible.”

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, dumbfounded as to how on earth Jaehyun and Taeyong could have decided that this was the best route to take. Having me pretend to know about and be extremely close to a pair of teenagers that I met once and talked with for all of like, what? Five minutes?    

“I know it sounds daunting, but Chenle’s been feeling a bit under the weather lately and Mrs. Ho is aware of that, which gives us an out if anything goes wrong. We even have a signal in case Chenle should need to bring up his condition as an excuse to cut the meeting short.”

“Still though,” I hesitated, not fully convinced.  

“Listen,” Jaemin interjected.  

“You don’t have to act like a big happy family, giving them hugs and stuff. If anything, that would make Mrs. Ho really suspicious. Just act like how you would any other teenager. Act snarky, roast them, I don’t know. There are more ways to show closeness than acting like you're in a lifetime Christmas special. Besides, it makes sense for you to not know everything about them since Mrs. Ho still believes that you and Jaehyun met only a few months ago. We just have to get you knowledgeable enough for Mrs. Ho to-”

“Knock! Knock!” Someone called from outside the door.  

“Why say ‘knock?’ Why not just do it if you’re gonna say what you’re doing?” Haechan groaned, almost unreasonably annoyed by the knock knock-er’s chipper demeanor.  

Taeyong scowled at Haechan before walking toward the door.  

“Who is that?” I asked.  

“That should be Momo with the boys,” Jaemin answered.  

“Wait, what? Why are they here? I’m not ready.”

“It’ll be fine. Think of this as a practice round. You’ll do great!” Jaemin gave me two thumbs up as Taeyong opened the door.  

I definitely was not ready and by the looks of it, neither were they.  

Momo and Taeyong stood by the door as Jaemin motioned for Jisung and Chenle to come over.  

It hadn’t been more than a couple days since I had last seen the two of them yet I wouldn’t have recognized the yellow haired boy had I not been expecting to see him. While Jisung looked almost exactly the same as the day we met, Chenle looked as though he were the one who had been locked up in the estate’s basement, not me. The dark spots that lay wrapped below his eyes took up more space on the young boy’s face than the eyes themselves. The state of his cheeks made it obvious that what he lacked in sleep, he definitely wasn’t making up for in calories. The chubby cheeks I had remembered were long gone, now sunken in to the extent one might mistake the boy for a character in a Tim Burton movie. He looked less like a teenaged boy and more like an old man, hair loss and all.  

To describe him as a bit under the weather as Taeyong had only moments prior would be like saying that Hitler was kind of a douche; not necessarily untrue, but definitely not the most accurate way of portraying the severity of things. Chenle looked sickly, though I couldn’t think of any sickness with symptoms so... apparent.  

Neither him nor Jisung looked particularly excited to see me, which is of course understandable since to them, I’m practically that one distant relative who your parents made you hug as a kid despite your apparent discomfort. Though, while Jisung just looked awkward and unsure of where he should focus his eyes, Chenle looked at me as though I were the cause of his illness.  

It looked as though simply being near me was physically painful for him. I kept his gaze, trying to uncover the cause of his extreme discomfort towards me. It was strange. There was no hatred in his eyes, something I should have been relieved by given that we were going to have to act all buddy-buddy with each other, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he was looking at me like a child who’s about to be told on to his parents.  

“I thought we could start with you guys telling Y/n your interests. Does that sound good?” said Jaemin.

The two took turns telling me about which video games were their favorites and about what sports they played at school. It was awkward at first, especially since it felt like the first day of school and our teacher decided to make everyone takes turns introducing themselves and saying three things about themselves, something which teachers don’t understand is actually torture in its purest form.

Though I was lost as fuck when Jisung tried to explain this game called Amoungus to me, Jaemin interjected to ask the two of them what their favorite show was. That was when things started to look a bit brighter.  

“Well, right now, me and Chenle are watching this show called HunterXHunter.”

“HunterXHunter?” I asked, suddenly more serious than was necessary.  

“Uh, yeah. Have you heard of it?” Jisung asked, confused.  

“Which one? The 1999 one or the 2011 one?”  

Both of the two boys lit up a bit.  

“Wait, there’s a 1999 version?” Chenle asked, this being the first time he spoke without being needing to be nudged first by his brother.

“Uh, yeah. And get this, it’s better. Don’t get me wrong, the newer one is great. I love the art style, but the 1999 verion includes more from the manga that the 2011 version completely leaves out.”

“You read manga?” Chenle asked, excitedly, and for a split second, he resembled the boy I met before, still strung out, but not as much so.  

“No, I just read an article comparing the manga to the show- Of course I fucking read manga,” I replied, probably laying the sarcasm on a little too thick.  

I paused as the two boys looked at each other and nodded.  

“Do you like shoujo or shonen better?” Jisung asked, though it sounded more like a demand.  

“I won’t lie, I like shoujo a lot. Don’t roast me though I like both. It depends on my mood. Sometimes I wanna read a high-stakes power fantasy battle palooza with fucking lasers, and other times, I just wanna read about a high-schooler asking out his crush.”

“I get that,” Jisung nodded.

“Yeah, that’s because you get all your dating advice from playing dating sims,” Chenle snorted.

Jisung glared at Chenle and raised his hand, but quickly lowered it as though reconsidering hitting him when the older is in such a weak state.  

The four of us started laughing only to be interrupted by a concerned voice.  

“Mrs. Ho, what are you doing here?” Taeyong stuttered.

Momo quickly bowed to her, prompting Jaemin to stand up and do the same.

“Is it strange for me to be walking around my own house?” Jessi asked eyeballing Taeyong.

“No, of course not ma’am. It’s just that I was expecting for us all to meet at the dining room table later today like what was planned.”  

“I too thought that that was to be the case, but when I heard my son’s laughter from Y/n’s room, I figured I’d stop by.”

Jessi walked further into the room. Everyone did their best to hide any signs of the shock, nervousness, or stress they were feeling, though nobody did a good job.  

I let out a soft laugh. To think that I was going to have to rely on them, they’re the ones who’ll be depending on me to make this go smoothly.  

“Jessi! What’s up?”

Jessi wipes the back of her hand over her forehead as if wiping off an imaginary bead of sweat.  

“Whew. Thank god. I thought you were gonna be all formal with me again just because there were others around.” She laughed, taking a seat on the vanity table  

“You know, this might actually be better having a formal meeting anyway,” Jessi said, switching to Korean for the rest of the room’s inhabitants.  

“Oh, uh... sure. Why not?” Taeyong replied.

Jessi stared at him silently, making Taeyong even more nervous.  

“Well?” She asked.

Taeyong hesitated, unsure of what to do.  

“Yes?”

“Go get him.”

“Pardon?”

“Jaehyun. Go get Jaehyun. He should be here for this shouldn’t he?”  

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Right away.”  

Taeyong gave me a look as if to ask if I’d be okay while he was away. I gave him a little nod and made a “shoo” motion in response.  

Both him and Momo disappeared, her bowing once again before making her exit.

Luckily, the moments that were filled with Taeyong’s absence had been taken up by the exchange of simple pleasantries. I asked Jessi how she slept, she told me she slept well. She asked me the same, I replied the same. Then she turned to Jaemin to ask whether Chenle had taken his medicine yet, to which he responded with a simple, yes.  

Taeyong returned as quickly as he came which was surprising given how Jaehyun must have been busy with other matters given the meeting’s spontaneity of the meeting.  

He entered the room following Taeyong and stopping to rest his hands on my shoulders as he stood behind my sitting place. I had expected him to do something physical since his mother was here, so I was able to mentally prepare myself and refrain from flinching away from his touch.

The meeting was short, with Jaehyun announcing that he and I were getting married. Jisung and Chenle reacted with surprise and then faux excitement. I hadn’t needed to do much except for sit there, which was a relief. Jaemin and the kids were the first to leave, with Jaemin announcing that it was time for them to work on their homework. Taeyong escorted Jessi back to her room leaving Jaehyun and I to be the only ones left.  

“Good job.” Jaehyun said, now having sat directly in front of me on the bed.  

I nodded trying my best to hide my anxiety.  

“Tomorrow I’ve arranged to have several dresses sent to the estate for you to try on. You may pick whichever one you like. My mother will be there to aid you.”

“Dresses?”  

Jaehyun laughed at my reaction.  

Jaehyun set his hands onto the bed and leaned back slightly.  

“I do believe that it is tradition for the bride to wear a dress on her wedding day,” He mused.  

“Oh.” I muttered.

Jaehyun stared back at me with a relaxed smile.  

I took the time to get a good look at Jaehyun, something I hadn’t thought to do during the meeting. He wore a simple white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his forearms. I remembered walking in to find him sitting on the weight machine only a few hours earlier. It made sense that he worked out given his build. Body types like that don’t just happen naturally. Even his hands were muscular.  

I felt conflicted. If I had seen this man on the street a month ago, I probably wouldn’t hesitate to imagine those arms wrapped around me, or maybe even his hands digging into my hips, but after what I had experienced, all I could think about was the feeling of losing consciousness as their grip tightened around my throat.  

I did my best to be subtle as I looked down at his thighs. I wasn’t surprised to see that the light grey slacks did little to hide that they, like his arms, were... large.  

We sat in silence just staring at each other until Jaehyun stood up from the bed, now at least 3 heads taller than my sitting form.  

He leaned forward resting his hands on the armrests of my chair. Trapping me.  

I froze.  

“It’ll probably take the entire afternoon to finish all the work I have left, so I likely won’t be joining you all for dinner.”

And with that, he left.  

<><><><><>

Jaehyun was right. He wasn’t be able to attend dinner. I wasn’t surprised by his absence; It was everyone else’s absence I was surprised by. Not a single member of 127 nor Jaemin or Jeno attended dinner that night, leaving Jessi, Jisung, Chenle, and I to awkwardly sit around theorizing about what business they had that kept them away.  

<><><><><>

Jaehyun could feel his blood boil as Taeyong and Jeno made him aware the sudden turn of events.

“And you’re sure the messenger was unaware of the message’s contents?” He asked the two men.  

“We’re sure,” Taeyong answered.

“Since we don’t usually receive deliveries directly to the house without being made aware of them in advance, I took every precaution in questioning the man myself,” added Jeno.  

“His story checked out. We quickly confirmed that he was a registered courier at a local delivery service within the district. I opened the letter in front of him and once I realized its contents, I demanded all information regarding the letter’s origin. After informing Taeyong, we sent over several men over to inspect their security footage, but it seems that the letter was actually delivered to them via a different delivery service. We have men over there as well checking their footage and all, but it seems as though they managed to send the letter through a system I’ve never seen before. The letter was put into several other envelopes, each one containing instructions and payment for the next delivery. Since each company only opened the outer envelope, we were unable to see any past instruction that may had been included before the letter reached each individual company.”

“How long will it take to trace the source of the letter?” Jaehyun inquired.

“We don’t know. It depends on how many companies they went through. We won’t be able to locate the original sender, especially if their trail is long gone by the time we reveal any trace of their identity. We might not even be able to discern how long the letter has been in transport for quite some time. Our best guess is that it’s only been in transport for 1 to 2 days.” Taeyong sighed, showing his frustration at the situation.  

Jaehyun dragged his hands down his face, his good mood now a distant memory.  

“Two days, huh?” He pondered, staring down at the piece of paper he held in his hands.  

If you fail to hand Y/N over to us, then prepare for a red wedding.  

“Call everyone up here, now.“

Jaehyun watched silently as his office began to slowly fill with the members of 127.

Taeyong and Jeno made sure to inform them all of the gravity of the meeting thus ensuring that none of the members were to speak until Jaehyun officially started the meeting.  

“Where is he?” Jaehyun demanded.

Everyone began exchanging glances, not yet sure of who exactly it was that Jaehyun was referring to.    

“We’re here,” Taeyong announced as both he and Winwin entered the room.  

“And where exactly were you?” Jaehyun asked, making it obvious that his question was directed more at Winwin than the both of them.

“He was in the library, reading,” Taeyong answered for him.  

“If he was that close, then why was he the last to be found?”  

Winwin approached Jaehyun. He reached his hand into his pants pocket, retrieving a pair of earbuds before placing them on the oak desk.  

“I had them in, so I couldn’t hear my name when it was being called,” Winwin smirked, staring straight into the eyes of the man sitting in front of him.  

Jaehyun scowled.  

“You know, Winwin. Ever since I relieved Johnny of his duty to keep an eye on you, I often spent my time wondering where you were and what you could be off doing.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Winwin commented, his tone filled with mockery.  

Instead of getting angry, Jaehyun smiled, catching everyone, including Winwin off guard.  

“As it turns out, my musing was pointless,” Jaehyun explained, as he placed the letter on the desk, directly on top of Winwin’s earbuds.  

Winwin read the letter without needing to touch it or lean closer to it.  

He frowned but said nothing.  

Jaehyun continued.  

“I don’t have to ask myself where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing because I already know.”

Winwin already knew what was coming.  

“You’ve been telling Wayv our secrets.”

The meeting went as one would expect. Jaehyun showed the letter to the remaining members, had Taeyong and Jeno go over what they had gone over earlier with him, and then Jaehyun posed the very important question, “How come only days after Johnny stopped watching over you, we receive a letter from Wayv confirming that they found out about the wedding?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Yuta interjected.  

Everyone looked up at him expectantly. Yuta froze, as though he came to Winwin’s defense without having even thought of what he was going to say.  

Before Jaehyun could move on, Taeil began to speak.  

“Wait, he’s right. Didn’t Taeyong and Jeno say that we have no way of knowing for sure how long the letter has been in transit? It’s possible that the letter has been in transit since before Johnny stopped keeping watch over Winwin.”  

“Yeah,” Yuta exclaimed, having regained his momentum.  

“And besides, wouldn’t Winwin have known that updating Wayv this soon after regaining his freedom would put him under suspicion?”

Jaehyun paused.  

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t out rule the likelihood that Winwin’s loyalty is with Wayv. It’s highly probable that he prioritized his mission to leak information over his own safety.”

“No, that’s not necessarily true. If that were the case, then why would Wayv have sent such a message? If they knew that the wedding going to be announced in five days anyway, then why would they put Winwin under suspicion? Wouldn’t they want us to trust Winwin so he could leak information more easily?” Taeil pressed on.

Jaehyun, Taeil, and Yuta continued arguing with each other as Winwin and the others watched in silence.

“I’ve made my decision,” Jaehyun announced.  

“Winwin will be removed from any NCT related activity until further notice and will be placed back under heavy watch.”

“Will I be the one to watch over him again?” Johnny asked.

“No,” Jaehyun answered.  

“This time, Taeil will be the one to watch over Winwin.”

“But sir, I thought you said you didn’t want me to watch over him given our close relationship.”  

“I am aware of that Taeil, but given how eager you are to prove Winwin’s innocence, perhaps that will motivate you in making sure that nothing gets past you. If Winwin were to fall under suspicion again, just know that you’ll be the one to we turn to in confirming his innocence. I also doubt that if Winwin were to display suspicious behavior that you would try to cover up for him.”  

Jaehyun looked at Winwin.

“Today cameras will be set up in your room. You are not to leave your room without Taeil there to escort you. You will not be permitted to use any electronic devices without Taeil either. As for the rest of you,”

Jaehyun looked around the room.  

“From this moment on, no one is permitted to speak to Winwin regarding anything NCT related.”

[the-darklings]

“ you’re my person. you’ll always be the one i go to. ” Jean + Clara/V 🥺

prompt: “you’re my person. you’ll always be the one i go to.”

pairing: jean x v (coa verse)

wc: 2.3k+ (aka I don't have an off button when it's them regardless of setting/verse)

notes: so while I'm obsessed with jeara in npfh verse, something about exploring them in coa where jean is almost a rogue figure in v's life and is near entirely removed from the overall dramas of her life is just so... (makes a vague, distressed sound). guess i'm just a sucker for "no matter what, life keeps drawing us back together" energy, also I just love their antagonistic, sexually charged banter : )

It’s the soft cocking of a gun behind you that alerts you to someone’s presence at your back.

It’s a split second, a whirlwind of gripping your own weapon, but it’s all too slow. Far too slow, John and Cassian and the Elder would have reprimanded you. Disappointing after years of work and training you’ve done. Sloppy at best, life-threatening at worst.

For priding yourself on speed as your greatest physical weapon, you simply react too slow. It’s not because your instincts are dull anymore — no, if anything, after the dessert you’re an even sharper version of yourself.

But there’s is a singular hole in your instinctive wall. One person who — unfailingly, and irritatingly — seems to slip behind every single one of your guards. More of a snake than you are. More deadly, more deceptively charming and coy.

"Well, well — look who the cat dragged in."

Jean’s voice is still silk. With the gentle roll of his accent, the ice in his eyes shifts and morphs — cracking at the sight of you; always, a match and a fuse — when you level your pistol on his face. Unflinching. A slight, indulgent twitch of his mouth greets your clinical action. He appears so infuriatingly unconcerned to have a fully loaded weapon trailed on him you have to bite back a snarl. Arrogant bastard.

But you’ve seen what his mouth is capable of. He would no doubt make an innuendo if you brought up the said mouth but he’s stopped entire gunfights with his wit and tongue alone in the past. Has stood beside you plenty of times, trying to weasel you both out of serious trouble.

You have a habit of running into each other every time the other needs backup the most. Neither of you would ever admit to needing one another but you’ve served each other’s self-interests plenty of times.

"What are you doing here?" you demand.

The Frenchman doesn’t move, dragging his stare over your body with curious, probing intensity. It’s near lazy, bordering on sexual perusal and instinctively your skin warms under the examination. Prick.

"Lovely to see you too, chérie,” he greets, his voice honey yet always just tantalisingly teasing the idea of more. He’s learned to present himself as the devil’s biggest temptation long ago; a temptation very few resist. His arm finally lowers with those words, followed by a click of safety coming back on but you’re not so quick to follow his lead. “You look positively alive," he adds, a touch sardonic.

Your lips twitch. "Sorry to disappoint."

Last time he saw a mess, not an assassin.

His broad frame is clad in a stitch-to-stitch perfect tailored suit. Dark and sleek. Not dark enough to be outright black but an odd, shimmering material that indeed reminds you of a devil in disguise. Prowling around and passing around favours and information but at a price — always a price, and never one you want to pay in the long run.

"Hm, yes,” he hums thoughtfully, a melody of rumbling deepness that is his voice settling in your gut as he draws closer. Strolling forward without a care in the world, as if you don’t have your pistol still raised. Still aimed at him. Your finger on the trigger. As if there isn’t a pinch to your features; a warning, venomous gleam in your eyes. “While you disappearing is no novelty. You disappearing for seven months to a point even I can't locate you certainly is."

With the sheer vastness of his web of information, you can only imagine how profoundly irritating he found it. Jean doesn’t like losing. Doesn’t like not being in control, in the know. Never has. Others dance to his tune. Losing is a language he doesn’t speak. If there is no way to get his way, he makes one. He cares little for the collateral damage left behind. His ruthlessness alone has always put you at odds though he’s always been quick to point out how hypocritical you are for your wry comments. How every enemy of yours has oftentimes been left spluttering on their own blood, robbed of life or a future.

You burn everything, chérie, he told you once, years ago now, to destroy so thoroughly is a curious talent for one so invested in life and greenery to have.

"I'm touched by the concern," you say eventually, your expression still sour and your mouth curved downwards.

Jean’s face creases at that, an eyebrow quirking, and lips stretching further back. That stupid little dimple in his left cheek appears again, and it’s a rare sight — one to always makes you wonder if this is genuine amusement or just another mask he wears.

"Actually I needed you to kill someone for me, vipère,” he rebukes, dismissive of your notations of sentimentality. A small sound whistles past his teeth, his eyes narrowing down on you when he halts in front of you, his chest bumping into the muzzle of the gun. The pearly white of his dress shirt cuts for a bleak contrast to your sleek, black pistol. “Your sneaky ways have proven to be... most useful."

His voice lowers, dripping towards a lulling, beguiling thing. He slants his head lower, near blending into the shadows of the room where you were searching for more information about your current mark just moments prior.

"Yeah, right," you huff, unimpressed.

"Does it surprise you?” he wonders curiously, his cologne tickling your nose when he slants even closer, still towering over you. And you know his cologne — so damn well, you know it in your marrow — know how it smells when it’s faded and muted. When you nudge your nose against the juncture of his throat, burying yourself in him. Greedy or not, you always stole his warmth. And for some reason he always permitted it. Perhaps he found some begrudging amusement in moments of lingering contact and intimacy between you. For a man who might as well be carved from ice, he knows exactly how to make you burn. “The idea that I think you're my person? A trustworthy contact? You'll always be the one I go to."

Your arm lowers at long last, making you peer up at him from under your lashes. Consider him. Jean’s mouth rests slightly agape, his breaths slowing, slowing, slowing — matching yours, you realise suddenly, ignoring the pinprick of desire at the base of your neck. His proximity chips at your guard and you lean closer too. Alone in this dark room, alone in this world, two solitary figures occasionally passing by each other. In these rare instances of proximity, it’s easy to forget your loneliness. Easy to pretend you’re one and the same.

Your fingers slither up his chest and towards his neck. To kiss him you would have to stretch your limbs and muscles. This you know intimately. If only because you know exactly how his body fits against yours. And what an odd thought it is — to know that where there is fear and unease with others, there’s only need to be closer with him. Every cell in your body seems to hum at the mental image; eager to agree, eager to indulge. The idea of sampling more of him, tangling yourself further in the spider’s web is too tempting. Too enticing. Jean inclines into you. Your escape, hideaway, so dissimilar to how the dessert felt. Like a gilded cage. A makebelieve. With him though it feels…

Your breaths mingle, intertwining, neither of you breaking the eye contact first. He doesn’t allow you a single inhale without devouring every micro quiver of your lips.

"Nice try,” you exhale knowingly before your mouths can touch, leaning back with a saccharine grin. Your fingertips tease over the heated skin of his neck despite the broken spell. It thrills you, the tension of strong tendons you feel there, pulled tauter by your prodding. “Now why are you really here?"

For a single instance, you think Jean will continue his pretence, his unending fictitious act. Mock you further with yet another agreeable mask he shows everyone else. But a flicker, and then his charm melts into something more cunning, crueller, yet somehow — impossibly — even hungrier and darker than before. He’s still too close, too physically there; next to you, in you, like a splinter you can’t get out. Or want to.

Unravelling of a facade packaged in a span of a second, a heartbeat.

"I need him alive, V."

His voice drips from honey to dark velvet. Teasing, seductive promise. Jean’s fingers drag against the curve of your jaw as he speaks, his touch inveigling but you’ve danced this dance before. He should know better than to expect easy prey by now.

"And I need him dead,” you snip back, cupping his cheek in return, scraping your fingers against the dark stubble against his jaw with an innocent tilt of your head. Sometimes you hate it — the way he’s able to rip out something darker in you, more chillingly untamed. Jean is a paradox, a tempest blowing against the ruleset. So often being beside him makes you recklessly want to do the same. “So if you're after something, I suggest you work quicker, Jean."

There’s a split second in which you think he might flip on you the way he’s done on so many others. A warm, inviting smile — all charisma and magnetism, toothy and wide — seconds before he plants a bullet in your body. You’ve seen him do it so many times in the past your head spins. In part from wondering if he will give you one last kiss before he pulls the trigger, or if he really believes you will not take him down with you if he attempts it.

"If I get the information I need by sunrise, have dinner with me tomorrow."

His thumb nudges against the curve of your bottom lip. Rough yet gentle, sensuous yet treacherous. He’s so used to getting his way you want to refuse him out of principle alone if nothing else. It’s rather enjoyable — in a dark, cruel way — to deny him, to see how many masks he can flip through until only his own face remains. You've yet to see such a day.

"There's a distinct lack of a question mark in that statement," you note coolly.

The tension between you sits like a physical weight. Overbearing and thick; you glimpse all the things he’s doing to you inside his mind already. His fingers digging into your hips, hoisting you into his strong arms. A hiss of searing breath against your ear, teeth against your neck, animalistic, skin against skin. Sweat and filth and passion. You’ve healed during your stay at the dessert. He can see it in you. A part of you has transformed, shed your old, torn skin — he’s certainly coaxed and encouraged this change in you prior. It had become a particular interest of his once John departed.

Bury your past, vipère, it doesn’t serve you anymore.

Glaciers of his gaze thaw and spark into a sapphire flame the longer you gaze at one another, hungry and wanting. Jean’s angular, virile features tighten with restraint but he doesn’t crack, a faint grin still lingering in place.

"I'm not going to grovel at your feet, vipère,” he says, his words ringing deeper and sultry, near gravelly. A knife’s edge, really, razor-sharp against your fragile pulse. His fingers trace the contours of your parted mouth, and you sense his breath when he nudges close. The scent of tobacco and red wine still lingers on his own lips muddying your honed senses. “It's not in my nature to do so. If I want something, I go for it."

And for some reason it’s him — him you lean into, him you don’t shun or snarl at when he touches you. So intimately. Painting you with his hands anew — bloody hands of a murderous man, a liar and a cheat.

Your lashes flutter. "And here I thought you liked games."

"Only the ones I win,” he breathes hotly, his teeth gleaming, a wolf’s jaws open for devouring. His large palm slips to cup your face, bracing against your cheek, steadying you. Your mouths are almost touching, almost kissing, almost biting. “And you... are... most certainly a game I'm happy to play every time, ma vipère.”

The last part — wanton and just a touch possessive, throaty with a heavier accent — scrapes against the shell of your ear. Hot, wet exhales of oxygen skitter against the curve of your neck and it leaves you shuddering against him. Jean grins into your skin at the small victory, his mouth flitting over your beating pulse in reward. Once, twice. He’s not touching you further, and you grind your jaw to prevent yourself from touching him in return.

Always the game of who will give in first.

When he realises you’re not about to hand him his victory as he no doubt hoped you would, he pulls back, a flash of teeth visible in the darkness. Lights from the street outside illuminate his handsome features when he moves back. His eyes drink in your form, from head to toe, his thumb swiping over his own mouth slowly. It coils your stomach when you realise it’s the same hand he touched your mouth with.

An indirect kiss to taste you. Despite your controlled expression, you feel that distant kiss as if he were smearing your mouth with his until your edges blurred with his.

“Dinner will be at 8 pm sharp. Don't be late,” he instructs, low and smooth, his voice still scratchy with hunger. He pivots to go but pauses midturn, glancing at you over his shoulder while his hand slips into his slacks. “Oh, and do wear red. You always look so fetching in that colour. And it looks ever-so pretty on my bedroom floor."

[literaila]

i dont just believe it

spencer reid x reader

warnings: the plot revolves around body insecurties, and not feeling beautiful. please dont read if that is triggering to you. 

my note: this one is literally the entire bane of my existence but i figure someone will probably enjoy it. to anyone who feels insecure i’m going to say this as simple as i can: you are beautiful. i believe it and you should too. 

“Hey little love, we’ve gotta get going soon, there are around 15 minutes of traffic during this time of day and we’re going to be late if we don't…” Spencer walked into the bathroom, messing with his sleeves while talking. When he looked up and saw Y/N staring down at the mirror in their bathroom.

He saw her watching herself in the mirror, staring at all the little imperfections that ruined her confidence, that reminded her of just how prettier other girls were, the imperfections that put the tired frown on her face.

Spencer lost his train of thought. “Hey what's wrong?”

Y/N looked back at him and based on the cloud that was hanging over her head, at the rain that had fallen down her cheeks smearing her makeup, he knew they were going to be late. 

Shade didn't look good on Y/N. 

“What?” she said, obviously playing dumb as she turned back around, “there's nothing wrong.” 

“Yes, there is,” Spencer said matter-of-factly as he walked over to her. “You're not smiling, you haven't put your shoes on yet, your playing with the end of your skirt, which I’m pretty sure is a nervous tick… and plus” he whispered standing behind her “I can see the mascara running down your cheeks love.” 

“That's not mascara- hey wait are you profiling me?” she asked as she turned around to face him, a pout on her face as she looked up at him. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and wiped her tear-stained cheeks. “Seriously, what's wrong?” 

What was wrong, what was wrong. 

Well, maybe it was the weird color of her hair, which only proved to be more annoying every time she did anything with it. Or maybe it was the dress that she had gotten a year ago, the dress that used to look good on her, but now just reminded her of when she used to feel good about herself. Or perhaps it was sleeping in late, and then having to rush to get ready. 

What wasn't wrong? 

Y/N had tried to get ready, had tried to put a confident smile on her face as she looked at her body, at her least favorite thing in the world, she had tried to pretend that she looked beautiful. But it was only pretend, and she wasn't beautiful. 

“Nothing” she mumbled, looking down at her feet, trying to come up with a way to avoid this conversation. 

Spencer lifted Y/N’s chin and examined her face. “Nothing?” he asked softly, making her look at him.  

She sighed and avoided looking in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” 

She made a sound that sounded like a yes. 

“Talk to me.” 

Y/N looked up at him, she thought about how much time they had already wasted, she thought about all the other time's Spencer had to reassure her, she thought about how she could explain it all, she looked up at him and searched his eyes, checking to see if he could really deal with her if they really had the time for this. 

They didn't.

Spencer wasn't going to let her leave without talking to him. 

He watched her eyes as they darted around the bathroom, he could see the hesitation in them, could see her mind running faster than she could keep up with. He smiled a sad smile at her and lifted her chin more so she would look at him.

He hoped she could read the message in his eyes. 

“Mydressdoesntlookthesame.” Y/N mumbled quick and quiet. 

“What?” 

“My dress... It looks different. It doesn't fit as well. And I don't like it, and I feel ridiculous. ”. Just saying the words out loud made her feel worse, she hadn't wanted to think about the changes that had affected her body in the year she hadn't worn the dress. She hadn't wanted Spencer to know how uncomfortable she felt. It looked so terrible on her. She looked down ashamed.

Spencer looked down at the dress with her, remembering the last time she had worn it, at the wedding of her old high school friend where she had worn it, he remembered her glowing. He remembered watching her smile, and laugh, and he remembered how her friends had been so inviting, and how she was almost a completely different person around them. He remembered how much he loved seeing her confidence which glowed when she was happy. He remembered how much he loved her.

Spencer looked down at her dress and smiled at the memory, one he would remember forever. 

“You’re right.” He said. 

Y/N’s head snapped up at that, she hadn't expected him to agree with her. 

“What?”

“You’re right,” he said again, simply, as if it was one of the many facts he kept stored in his head.

“Oh wow, thanks Spence I guess we can just go now, I’m fine-” Y/N said rolling her eyes, and feeling the hope bubbling out of her chest. She hadn't expected him to agree with her. 

He probably thought she looked terrible, he was probably going to tell her to go change, he was probably thinking about the way she used to be so much prettier, about the girl that he fell in love with, he was probably ashamed at her for not being the same girl and- 

“You aren't smiling,” he said quickly, well aware of how his words had affected her. 

“What?” 

“You aren't smiling. Last time you wore this dress, you were smiling. That's why it's so different.” Spencer assured his hands resting on her hips, looking at her, hoping she would smile. 

Y/N looked at him dubiously. 

Spencer laughed. 

“I think you look beautiful. You always look beautiful.” 

“Spencer that's sweet but-” 

“ But if you were smiling…” he said moving a hand to rest it behind her neck and tilt her head up softly, he was trying to make her understand “if you were smiling you would look even more beautiful.”

“I don't really feel like smiling.” Y/N replied sternly, a hard look in her eyes. 

“I know. But I also know that your mind,” Spencer gently tapped the side of her head “is lying to you. You look beautiful, but it's proven that confidence can make someone up to 10 times more attractive, mostly because confident people are perceived as being more attractive.” he paused for a moment than continued “and I know that you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. I know that you have a gorgeous smile, and I know that you light up every room you’re in.”

Spencer reminded himself that, no matter how many times he would tell her, no matter how many times anyone would tell her, she wouldn't believe anyone until she thought she was beautiful. He reminded himself that he couldn't invalidate her feelings just because he didn't believe them to be true. 

“I know you don't see what I see, but what I see is my beautiful girlfriend, I don't think I’ve ever seen even a hint of all the bad things you think about yourself.” 

“I know Spence, but that's what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to believe that because you’re my boyfriend.” Y/N replied her eyes now focused on his chest, her cheeks red at the compliments. 

“Oh, I don't just believe it. And it's definitely not because I’m your boyfriend. Its a fact. Proven by science.” 

Y/N giggled at that. 

“I am a genius you know,” Spencer said, happy that she had a small smile on her face. 

“I know..” Y/N said softly.

“So then you know its true. It's also proven that I love you, and you’ve always taken my breath away, with everything you do.” 

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes hopeful. 

Early on in their relationship Spencer had learned what comforted her, and he knew that bringing just a little light, no matter how small, bringing a little light into her world of darkness would make her eyes light up. It would make her entire demeanor change.

It almost always worked. 

“Yes, genius, whatever you say.” 

Spencer smiled at her, liking the change in attitude, he pecked her lips and watched the cloud above her head lighten significantly at the action.

“But its also proven that people don't appreciate it when we’re late, so we’ve really gotta go.” She said. And with that, Y/N moved out of Spencer's arms and headed back to their bedroom to grab her shoes. 

“Y/N?” Spencer said following her. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re beautiful you know?” 

And Y/N smiled. It wasn't magic, and she hadn't been relieved of all the insecurities that were swimming in her stomach like sharks waiting to bite her. No, she didn't feel perfect, the cloud over her head hadn't been erased. But what she needed, what she always needed, was just a little reassurance that she wasn't the person she had conjured up in her brain. To Spencer, she was a completely different person. And he loved her. To him she was beautiful, and that was just enough for her to feel a little more comfortable in her skin. 

It would take a long time before she could believe it, but she was going to try. 

She nodded in hope that it was true. 

“Alright then.” He said while he grabbed her hand to help her up, Y/N smiled at him thankfully and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He gave her one of his breathtaking smiles and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You and me, little love, we’ve got to go show you off to everyone else.”

my masterlist here

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Nine

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 3.8k author note :: omg hiiii it’s been a while and today’s my birthday so i’m feeling pretty happy :-) i’ve been busy with exams and what not so this chapter would have been longer but oh well it’s still over the usual word count of 2ishk!! → next part found here !!

Instead of taking your frustration out on anyone else you take it out on your ODM gear. Anger is best used up resourcefully and you find practice goes by quicker when you imagine the look of horror Levi will have on his face when he sees just how much you've improved in recent weeks.

You sustain a number of bruises, scratches and scars the more daring you get but you take them as accolades indicating your dedication. Erwin occasionally encourages you in his office and informs you of how your commitment shows how you prioritise the safety of your people.

He's incorrect. The people of Paradis are not your people. You hold no relation or similarity to them aside from the fact you all happen to be human. Your people are the people of the Negri Republic.

You think of them every training session, tell yourself you're fortunate to be alive and if it were any other citizen of the Republic they would be working ten times as hard. They would grind their bones to dust just to prove their worth. Stepping above everyone else and working for a place in the top three.

So that's exactly what you do. You work yourself till you're sure you don't have possession of your own body, the spirits of the dead haunt you now that you've been left in the harrowing silence of lost life.

Guilt catches up to you. It nips at your skin and forms goosebumps all over your arms the one time you and the cadets happen to be allowed out to venture into town.

The people of Negri will never be able to bask in such a privilege.

Yet here you are, the only survivor of the attack, basking in that freedom .

You believe you hold no licence to deserve it.

It's another Friday, your shirt is soaked in sweat and you cringe internally as you peel it away from your skin now safe within the confines of the shower rooms.

Another lonesome night for you. Mikasa has fallen asleep long ago and you've just retired from another late night training session.

The air bites at you and you jolt jerking your hand away when the water you come into contact with is ice cold.

You should have remembered warm water is closed off after ten but it completely slipped your mind.

Sniffing at your skin you wince at the earthy scent mixed in with your perspiration.

You can't not shower but the prospect of having to endure the cold water isn't appealing in the slightest.

Fine, you'll get up early and hope to shower before breakfast when warm water is available. If you dare to become ill at this pivotal moment you're back to square one. If Levi has no use for you, you're once again as good as dead.

Groaning you unwind and restart. Pulling your undergarments back on you stare at your sodden clothing. Wearing your damp uniform just to sneak back into your dorm isn't at all appealing and you curse yourself for forgetting to bring your night gown.

No one else is awake anymore and if they are they should be all the way at the other end of the base, you're sure you'll be able to slip away into the shadows and make it to your room within two minutes.

It's a risk but you'll take it, there's no way you're wearing those clothes again. If you make it to your room you can change into your nightwear and sleep. It'll be uncomfortable due to not showering but you'll make do with it.

Pushing your head out into the hallway it's dark and you sigh in relief, your ears are attentive waiting on any sounds but when you hear nothing you assume it's safe to make a move.

But, that's where you're wrong.

One foot out into the hallway you've already been caught red handed.

"Looks like I was forced to married an oaf who just so happens to have a thing for voyeurism." The cynicism is dripping in none other than Levi Ackerman's voice but you don't shrink away despite your vulnerability.

Like a cat you can hear Levi almost silently saunter up to you from behind and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Expecting him to berate you you're surprised when he doesn't sound as scornful as he did a few seconds prior.

"Would you like to use the shower in my quarters? The water's warm."

You'd be an idiot to reject the offer and as much as you hate the feeling of unease you feel around Levi you'll put up with it if it means you're able to rub soap against your skin and smell clean whilst you sleep.

You're standing in his shower staring at all of the varieties of body wash he has lined up against the wall. As expected of him his bathroom is meticulously spotless without any dirt in sight.

A little whine escapes your mouth when the hot water hits you for the first time. You sigh feeling satiated as well as satisfied.

Feeling a little lightheaded you rub the pleasant scent onto your skin eagerly. After a long days worth of training you feel rewarded and fulfilled just by being able to indulge in the luxury of warm water.

Suddenly your eyes shift they expand, turning from relaxed to completely appalled. Memories of your home town flood into your mind all at once, memories you don't even recall owning. Flashes of what looks to be fiery red hair, then segments of bloodcurdling screams follow in pursuit.

The soap has slipped out of your hand colliding with the floor and the rather loud noise that follows is enough to have Levi knocking on the door of the bathroom.

Hurrying to finish up you try to act as if what happened didn't just happen but to your discontent you only end up feeling more distressed.

Those aren't your memories you don't recall who they belong to. Have they perhaps been triggered by something?

Looking around the bathroom you come to find that you forgot you hadn't brought your night clothes with you,, again. Hands making their way to rest onto your forehead you groan audibly.

Again your thought process is cut off by Levi's knocking "Hey, did you pass out or something?" and with urgency you finish before he knocks the door down from impatience.

Poking your head out you avoid his gaze.

"What is it runt?" Levi's unimpressed voice asks once again reminding you of his presence.

"I forgot to bring my clothes."

A moment of silence follows your sentence and you're convinced he'll tell you to deal with the problem yourself when he tells you to return inside. But, a few minutes pass and he cracks the door open to shove one of his button ups at you alongside a pair of loose-fitting pants.

Quietly thanking him you take the clothing from him, they're good enough to cover most of the areas you'd like sheltered from prying eyes.

After you're done dressing yourself you practice your breathing in the mirror and for the most part you think you're alright until your mind drifts back to the unexplained fiery red hair.

Finally getting a hold of yourself in spite of all the unanswered questions you escape into his room and make a dash for the door hoping he's occupied elsewhere or has drifted off to sleep allowing you to flee.

"Stop."

Gritting the top and bottom row of your teeth against each other you scowl before masking it away and turning to face Levi.

"You're working hard for Paradis I see."

Meeting his eyes for the first time in a long time you're riled up, the heat in your chest rises and it finally reaches the summit when you sense you're shaking in maddening annoyance.

"I do not work hard for Paradis. I have not forgot the way you massacred my people."

He shrugs his shoulders calmly. "If you say so, and if you must know. I did not order the hit. I did my job, that is all."

He seems almost amused seeing your expression twist around trying to decipher if he is of reliability or not.

"You're a murderer. What is so humorous?" The blunt delivery of your question is sufficient enough to bring an end to Levi's fleeting grin. His face automatically drops and his brows knit together.

Levi is left stunned and speechless. For the first time in his life he doesn’t know what to say because you're correct.

Giving his regretful expression one last disappointed look you storm off. You need to sleep if there's any chance of you waking up tomorrow.

Little do you know that two pairs of eyes watch you leave Levi's quarters that night.

One of those pairs does not belong to Levi.

Training is about pace but with the pent up steaming fury that resides inside of you you're sure you can move up the ranks much earlier than you previously estimated.

Positions, rank and status are what you need to obtain for Levi's plan to happen with no disruptions, if you're no good as a soldier there's no reason to continue persevering through the scrupulous hours of hard work and exercise.

There are points at which you struggle, it's difficult moving on alone knowing that you've been left completely unaccompanied and to your own devices but you make it work. You always have.

The feeling of loneliness is something you should have long got used to within the walls of the palace but after experiencing love and affection for the first time in years it's easier said than done to let it all go.

But you do.

You have to let go of your feelings for Levi to move forward.

All the faith and hope you truly have are placed in Sasha and Mikasa. You trust them with your life and one night after training as you look into your own eyes in the fogged up mirror of the shower rooms you come to the conclusion that you do not trust Levi Ackerman with your life and if you do not trust him with your life what is there to love about him?

The incessant name calling? The relentless pestering? The persistent hot and cold behaviour?

The man who sits at the other side of the hall eating his dinner is not Lev. The look in his eyes is completely different, the way he holds cups is different so is the way they make jokes and most importantly the way they act and you've now come to terms with that. No more allowing him to push you around whenever he pleases, no more succumbing to his touch.

The only orders you'll follow are the ones which permit for you to keep your life. That is all that matters. Nothing will ever matter if you die a meaningless death.

You came to the conclusion not too long ago that forming a clear distinction between Lev and Levi would be pivotal in progressing. After the mess caused by Jean in the hallway and your rude remark it's obvious you should. For the record you do stand by what you said. Levi Ackerman is a bitter hag, but you decide it's for the better that you bottle your emotions and your ever increasing feelings of animosity. You won't allow for them to interfere with your task. You've come here to save your life and that's it.

Lazily you poke at the meat on your plate not feeling particularly hungry today, there isn't much reason to be. Most of the training you've now become used to and you no longer feel exhausted after the training sessions. Instead you feel rather accomplished, you never saw yourself as much of a fighter but you think you've finally got the hang of it now.

Your progress has come as a shock to everyone around you and the cadets who were so quick to make judgement on the first day now come to you for advice. Whenever they approach with awkward smiles you can't help but feel bitter but you never refuse to aid them because what kind of person would that make you?

You haven't realized but all you've done today at dinner is sit and repeatedly jab your chicken with your fork, you nudge it left then bump it right. Eating is the last topic of interest on your mind right now. Recently all you've been able to think about are the people of your Republic. You were never able to ask what happened to your nation, what happened to your people. Illegitimate daughter or not it was still your kingdom and you keep mulling over the possibility of asking Levi about it.

You would have asked long ago but you think he won't give you an answer. After all there is no real reason for him to tell you what he did.

"MAIL!!" Marco's yell is enough to break you out of your deep thoughts all the cadets get to their feet running up to the front and practically submerging him after he's just come dashing in with this week's packages and parcels.

Connie's the first to retrieve his package. His mother is always reminding him in her letters and parcels of how proud she is of him, how she hopes he's eating well and is healthy. Your heart tingles for him. Maternal love is a lovely blessing and you wish you had it yourself but that doesn't stop you from feeling pleased on his behalf.

Everyone receives letters from home without fail, Everyone apart from you, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie. You've taken a keen note of that detail. The higher ups tend to never receive any mail unless it's from the military. They could have family who are dead or alive but it'll most probably remain a mystery to you.  Maybe there will come a time where all the cadet's families will stop writing too. The reasons as to why may be ambiguous but you can only hope their families remain healthy despite the dangerous terrain of Paradis.

"You never get any mail why is that Y/N?" Armin one of the younger cadets pokes his head over your shoulder, his blonde hair falls over his eyes and his innocent voice is unaware of how dark the true answer to his question is.

You shrug your shoulders forcing yourself to cut some of the chicken you have yet to touch.

"Mother and Father raised me to be independent they were never the caring type." You say shoving a piece of chicken into your mouth, you can't leave the plate unmoved.

He hums in response buying the explanation but Annie clearly doesn't, she's glaring right at you as she swirls her spoon in her soup rather aggressively. She's been looking at you with increasing intensity these past few days but you don't address it. You aren't able to tell if that's her normal resting face, all you really know for certain is that her Hawk like gaze only flicks away when you make eye contact with her.

"How about you Annie you never get any- " Just as Armin begins his sentence Annie's smoldering gaze meets his and it's enough to stop him.

You and Annie most definitely aren't amicable but you know how annoying the intrusive questions can get when you have no real answer to provide people with so you choose to step in and alleviate the growing tension.

"Annie isn't one to dabble in small talk, I'm sure she'll open up with time." Annie grunts and gets to her feet, she shoots you an Armin a subterranean glare demanding you understand she isn't going to carry on being interrogated. She isn't even thankful for your intermission.

"Did I anger her?" Armin is so aware and in touch with others feelings because you honestly can't tell how she feels. Maybe she thinks she's superior to you, maybe she's frustrated like Armin suggests or maybe that's her natural demeanor.

"I'm not sure, she seems to just be this way." You won't get his hopes up high by falsifying an explanation, you'll just provide him with your honest opinion.

Bertholdt looks as if he's about to join your conversation but Reiner places a firm palm onto his shoulder before whispering a word of warning into his ear. Bertholdt indicates his agreement by looking away and making conversation with Connie who is sitting across them enthusiastically pointing at the letter his mother has sent him this time around.

Behind you Jean shuffles out of his seat he approaches your table and places a candle onto the wooden surface. "One for you." He announces, and then he places one more next to Mikasa's plate "And, one for you Mikasa."

The both of you exchange looks Mikasa is as plain faced as usual but she murmurs a thank you and both you and Jean know she isn't just saying that she does mean it she's just not that great at expressing it. You move over and give him some space to sit down with you both.

"Oh my, are these those special editions from the city square?" You rotate the candle in your hand looking at it before gently inhaling some of it. Vanilla, Jasmine and hints of coffee flood your system and you sigh dreamily.

"It's so lovely, my you didn't have to?"

"I wanted to, besides what was I to do with that many candles? Mother got over excessive and sent far too many and I know you liked that sort of stuff. I remember seeing your maid carrying some essential oils and fragrances when I met you in the city."

He's spoken a bit too much and you give him an alarmed look, it's slipped his mind to not mention he's encountered you before but much to your dismay Reiner's inquisitive ears have already heard what's been said.

"Kirstein and you, what have you got going on?" Reiner's back at it forming false conspiracy theories in his head you can tell that much just by looking at him.

You huff and shake your head, "I believe he's got me mixed up with someone else I've never even met him before arriving here."

As soon as you've spoke you've realize your mistake when Connie turns to face the both of you, his eyebrow is cocked up in confusion and he keeps his eyes on you contemplating if he should reveal what he knows.

Begging him with your eyes isn't enough because he just has to open his big mouth and join in.

"Did you and Jean not say you knew each other? I remember it, on the first day you said something like it was a small world if you ran into him again."

Reiner's amused by this all and is fascinated wondering what the reason is for you to bluff like this.

Sucking your bottom lip in not expecting this disruption during dinner you don't know how to save yourself.

"He said you have a maid, would that make you a noble? Only the rich can afford such commodities." Krista cuts in and it's only then you notice everyone crowding around you.

Everyone looking at you makes you uncomfortable and you can't formulate a sentence in your mind that can substitute as a makeshift excuse. Jean has to notice the consequences of his actions because you're playing with your hands under the table evaluating the possible outcomes as his thigh rocks back and forth shaking the floorboards with tension.

Just say the truth.

"My husband, he's a noble so I suppose yes that would make me one too."

The cadets are open mouthed in complete surprise. There are a number of reasons for why this could be the case. Firstly you're married, secondly you're a noble, thirdly as of now only two nobles that have been made known to the cadets, those two are Duke Ackerman and Viscount Kirstein they're probably speculating if the two know who your husband is.

"Someone married you of all the women in this city? And that person's a noble?" At that you don't know how to feel. The added insult to injury upsets you but you don't make it visible.

"Enough." Erwin's firm tone is enough to settle everyone down and the rumour mill stops temporarily.

Levi doesn't do as much as look at you whilst the situation plays out. He continues nonchalantly looking through some letters the military have sent over to the base. It's for the best he doesn't draw attention to himself right now.

Then everything plays out the same way it did the day those cadet's talked badly about your performance, everything plays out the same way as when you lived in your father's palace. Every one swamping you, engulfing you and you find it hard to breathe. Throat constricting your unease only heightens. Giggles and mumbles then whispers of "So she bribed her way up here?" and "Count on a noble to cheat the system."

"I saw her leave Captain Ackerman's quarters a few days back."

That's enough to push you out the room, you don't even realize what you're doing until your legs have carried you out and you can hear heavy footsteps follow after you. It's silent whilst you plot a route towards the training grounds but whoever is behind you is still following behind you loyally. You're too worn out to check in on who it is.

"Y/N, we need to discuss this." You recognize the voice to be Jean's,  it's unusual that he's bothered to follow you outside.

Brows furrowed and shadows cast over your face you can't help but visibly present your emotions. Moving to take a seat on a staircase you hunch yourself forward breathing in and out shallowly, get a grip, slow your breathing. At this point both you and Jean have ventured so far into the base that there's no way anyone will be able to find you both for a while.

Normally you would burst into tears if something like this were to happen but you can't make yourself feel anything apart from simmering dissatisfaction. Whether it's directed at Jean, at yourself, at Connie, you don't really know the specifics.

You're able to harden your exterior this time, Levi is going to kill you there's no use in you being here if your identity is discovered, you've ultimately failed the one task you've been given.

"Ease yourself. Mikasa said she'd handle it I trust her, you trust her."

"We'll dig ourselves out of this mess, I assure you." Jean is droning on and slowly the sound of his voice fades away as you stare at the white wall behind him. He's explaining his viewpoint but he clearly doesn't understand you at all. Of course he isn't informed enough to understand. why you're panicked. You don't blame him.

"Just leave me alone for a second I'd like to think without anyone else present."

Jean sighs deeply but respects your request. He walks away from you although he clearly doesn't wish to do so.

[captainamericasbeard]

Empathy Ch. 3

Pairing: Bucky x Empath!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: One tiny swear word. 

Summary: Y/N is an empath tasked with helping the Avengers but healing only comes if you want it.

A/N: Here’s chapter 3! I really enjoyed writing this one, sorry it’s a little shorter. Let me know what you all think and send me an ask if you want to be tagged! 

Empathy MASTERLIST ll MASTERLIST

After helping Steve recover from his mission you had gone straight to bed. The physical toll of the night before and helping Steve was too much and you collapsed onto your bed fully clothed and passed out. Bucky slept fitfully and so you did too.  His dreams were filled with whimpered pleading that you pushed to the back of your mind. You bit down on a pillow to manage the pain, refusing to cause another scene. Bucky’s alarm sounded with daybreak and you were prepared to sleep the day away. A loud knock came to your door. Prying your eyes open the clock read 10:30 so you grunted in response.

“Y/N! Come on! Sunday brunch!” came Steves voice. You stumbled out of bed and creaked the door open, blinking in the light from the hallway. Steve laughed at your ruffled appearance.

“Not a morning person, I see?”

“It’s been a long couple of days,” you replied.

“Right. Sorry,” Steve said looking remorseful. "Well its Sunday brunch. We do it every week we’re not on a mission. You should come.” He seemed genuinely hopeful that you’d join.

“Yeah ok,” you said. Glancing down at your wrinkled clothes you said, “Maybe I’ll get changed first.”

“Maybe a good idea,” Steve said grinning. You closed the door on him and went to the bathroom to splash water on your face and wrestle your hair into a ponytail. Then you moved to your chest of drawers to put on a different pair of leggings and oversized sweatshirt. The variety of clothes you’d packed in your overnight bag left much to be desired and you made a mental note to check when the rest of your things would be brought over. You slipped on your shoes and head out your door.

The smell of bacon greeted you and you followed it until you found the team gathered around the kitchen table. Sam was cooking at the stove wearing an Iron Man apron and simultaneously flipping pancakes and stirring scrambled eggs. Back at the table Natasha had her foot propped up on the table between Steve and Bucky. The latter looked at you with those piercing eyes and that knowing stare and your stomach did a flip. Shit.

You took a seat next to Steve. The conversation flowed without interruption and you were able to lean back and relax. Steve got up and fixed a cup of coffee which he placed in front of you along with a bottle of vanilla creamer. You readily accepted his offering and poured the creamer till the coffee was milky white. Bucky pulled a face.

“You drink it like that,” he asked. You met Bucky’s eyes and pulled a long slow sip in response. He cracked a smile and turned his attention back to Nat who was speaking animatedly to Steve. Before you could pay attention to what she was saying Sam was lowering platters of breakfast foods onto the table. Pillowy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and fluffy pancakes filled with fruit and chocolate chips appeared before you. You marveled at the sheer amount of food for just the five of you.

“Wow sam! You go all out!” You said realizing you were starving.

“Yeah and it tastes good too,” Steve said grinning as he piled eggs high on his plate. Bucky did the same with the pancakes and your question about the amount of food was answered. You dove in quickly before it was all gone. You imagined this was what growing up with brothers would have been like and your heart gave an unexpected pang. Natasha fumbled her fork and the conversation halted.

“What was that?” She asked looking around before her gaze fell on you.

“Sorry, that was me,” you said embarrassed, your cheeks rapidly colouring.

“What was it,” she repeated.

“I had a thought and it ran away from me. I’m sorry,” you answered hoping they would drop it.

“What was the thought,” Sam asked as he removed his apron and sat down. You twirled your fork in your fingers considering answering or not. You shook your head to clear it.

“It was nothing,” you said hitching on a smile.

“No, no,” Bucky said. “If you get to know what we’re thinking then we get to know what you’re thinking.”

“Bucky that’s not fair,” Steve said in defense.

“It felt… sad.,”Sam said looking at you. You sighed accepting that they weren’t going to drop it.

“I was thinking this must be what it was like to have a family,” you said to your plate. “Sorry, sometimes thoughts trigger emotions. I’m usually more controlled than this. I’m just tired.” You say digging into your eggs as a distraction. You didn’t notice Bucky’s face lined with guilt. “These are good Sam, really.”

“Thank you! secret-"

“-family recipe!” the rest of the group chimed in before they all burst out laughing.

“Sorry, everything Sam makes is a secret family recipe. Don’t even bother offering to help cook.” Steve said.

“Don’t worry you don’t want my help. Never learned how to cook,” you said in answer, shrugging. Steve smiled softly in reply and squeezed your hand. The team fell back into their conversation and you leaned over to Steve

“How’d you sleep,” you whispered.

“Like a baby,” he replied with a grateful smile. You nodded and went back to your food. After breakfast everyone drifted away. Some off to finish paperwork from the night before, some off to the gym to train. You were too tired to do anything other than flop down on the couch in the common room with your book.

You were only a few pages in when you felt a presence in the room and eyes on the back of your head. You lowered your book and tilted your head backwards over the arm of the couch to find Bucky staring at you. He smelled fresh from the shower, a fact you tried to ignore.

“Can I help you?” You asked. Bucky shifted his weight nervously. “You can come sit down. I don’t bite.” you said and he nodded. He came around the back of the couch and you drew your feet in so he wouldn’t worry about touching you. You went back to your book waiting for Bucky to gather his courage. You could sense his nerves and allowed yourself to be a calming presence.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said in his usual gruff voice. His low timber ran a shiver through you which you thoroughly ignored.

“For what,” you asked. You weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

“For being a jerk. For the nightmares,” he replied mumbling.  

“The nightmares you can’t help, though you could let me help you. As for being a jerk, apology accepted,” you said.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked surprised.

“Yeah.” You shrugged and Bucky visibly relaxed.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

“Mad at you for what Bucky? For being scared? For not trusting me immediately? If I only know a fraction of what you’ve been through I know enough. I’m surprised you even talk to me,” you answered.

"Of course I talk to you. I’m not, you know, a total asshole.”

“Well thank god for that,” you said chuckling and Bucky cracked a smile.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said his voice full of sincerity.  

“It’s nothing Bucky. Let’s put it behind us,” you said. You picked up your book and returned your attention to it, leaving Bucky to make up his mind to whether he’d stay or go. He watched you for a moment with that unnerving gaze before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling. Your insides did a happy dance and Bucky smirked at feeling you rejoice.

"Calm down,” he said.

“Ok,” you replied burying your head in your book. The two of you sat in contented silence for the rest of the afternoon.

TAGLIST @saiyanprincessswanie​ @emmabarnes​ @sirenphrynne​

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 04

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual harassment (please don’t read this chapter if it triggers/makes you uncomfortable, your safety comes first)

A/N:  i do realise i’m on a roll posting every day but uni starts early and idk why i keep writing like i’m running out of time😂 hope you enjoy this chapter. much love xx

* additionally, there is a light sexual harassment scene in this chapter and if anyone is uncomfortable or triggered by it i would skip it. your mental health and safety come first. *

NEXT CHAPTER

One day I’ll fly away...

She remembered the very first role she got to play as a lead. She was the standby for Glinda in Wicked. She could still feel her hand shaking as the backstage technicians secured her to the bubble. She could still hear the bubble machine engine rumble as the bubble raised up in the ceiling and for a moment she was above everything - above the audience, above the cast, above the stage itself. It felt like flying, soaring through the gasping of the crowd. She remembered feeling like this was her height, this was her flight but as things went, as she got more roles and as she progressed to the screen as she always wanted, the feeling of flying just seemed to soar, turning her into a creature of air.

Flying for Bucky was something he couldn’t remember, he remembered crashing. Remembered falling from the train waiting for the peaceful slumber of death to come but it never did, remembered the cold snow melting through his jacket reaching his skin. It’s cold. Remembered diving in after Steve, lungs filled with water, heavy suit. It’s cold, it’s quiet. Soaring was only something he could dream of while frozen or when they put him on a cell with a small window. Crashing was more like something he could remember, drowning, pushed to the bottom by his arm, wishing death came to greet him

More powerful than crashing was sound. The theatre was always filled with whistling from men getting a peak at ladies’ legs, women giggling and security trying to keep out children and teens away. You could hear the laughter reverberating from any material, it was electrifying. Her voice however seemed to melt over distorted past sounds, a melancholy while held hands with the old telling it never of its former glory but of what it can be. Bucky knew now why her agency kept her so locked up, all people with a voice eventually fly away. 

     - Don’t just stare at me. - she bite her lip, looking the other way. Did she sound that bad? She thought she sounded just fine in the shower that morning, maybe her bathroom had better acoustics. - Should we go back home? Before it gets dark?

     - Sure. - he got up from his seat, extending his hand towards her so she could jump off the set. She put her hand in his, another hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as her elevated her up into the air before bringing her down onto the worn out floor. 

The walk back to the subway was quiet. People were starting to crowd Coney Island for night time dates. Bucky remembered bringing girls to dates in Coney Island, even remembered bringing Steve along, he just didn’t remember the girls’ names anymore. There were some flashes of what they were wearing but surely those memories were replaced with that of Y/N staring at the ferris wheel as they walked back to the subway.

Once there, her child like wonder of the city that never slept and the city which she now lived in didn’t seem to leave her eyes, sparkling brighter than the billboards in Times Square. The walk back to the apartment was once again quiet, with their footsteps being the only thing echoing in the halls. Soon enough they reached her door, still looking as intact as they left it.

     - Thank you so much for showing me Coney Island. - she handed him the teddy he had won. - Thank you gift. 

     - I won it for you, Y/N. Besides, I think I’m a bit past stuffed animals. 

     - Well, I’ve had my fair share of stuffed animals to last a life time and I insist you keep this one. - she stuffed the teddy between his arms, finding it incredibly adorable how the little toy looked smaller in the middle of his arms than in hers. - Little Coney Island memento. 

     - I should get going. - he changed the subject, gesturing with his hands as he looked at the time on his watch. - It’s been a great day, Y/N.

     - The pleasure’s been all mine, Bucky. - she smiled as she held the edge of the door. She stood by the slightly opened door watching as he turned the corner which led to the lift. Once he was out of sight, Y/N walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her but still holding the knob with a silly smile on her face. 

Bucky reached the headquarters around 11 PM. Despite going the long way home, expecting Steve to be asleep when he returned. Steve had a very mundane routine when it came to sleeping, he could still sleep but he would wait until everyone was asleep for him to go to his bedroom. Bucky didn’t want to have to dance the first day in the job waltz. He knew he cared, he knew Steve wanted him to be alright. There was only one small thing; Steve wanted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his Bucky, and he just wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t like being asked who he was, he doesn’t know who he is.

Opening the door to the living room, he found Captain America himself sat on the big lounge chair, skimming through his list of modern day TV shows and movies. His blue eyes moved from the bright lights of the television to him.

      - How was the first day? - he questioned, regular optimism present in his voice. Steve had remained the same, maybe it was that which made him believe the spectre of the boy Bucky was could be revived. He seemed to forget dead people can’t be revived. 

      - It was good, went to Coney Island.

      - Coney Island? - Steve muted the TV, contorted face expression settling into his youthful features. - I thought you were going to guard her door.

      - She wanted to see Coney Island. Couldn’t let her go alone?

      - Didn’t her personal assistant tell you she couldn’t leave? - he had been noisey, he had looked into Bucky’s contract. He told himself it was just in case, just in case Bucky needed his help. - You don’t want to get in any trouble, specially with agencies. They’re the devil.

      - I’ll take it into consideration. - his skin tightened as he smiled a tight straight line. 

      - Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m watching a series Sam recommended. 

      - I think I’m gonna just go to sleep.

Steve nodded allowing Bucky to return to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, a bed, side table and wardrobe, nothing else. No mirrors and no windows, silence, grey and black bedding, no decoration rather than a postcard his sister had sent him during the war framed in a plastic frame. No glass, Steve wanted nothing around he could harm himself with. It was almost like living in an insane asylum. 

He looked at the little teddy bear in his hands before placing it on the side table, a little smile on his face. A Coney Island memento indeed. 

The morning came rushing like the rain which fell against Y/N’s bedroom glass window. She turned around in her bedding, pushing her knitted quilt up to her nose, the scent of fresh crisp cotton invading her senses. The mood would’ve remained the same comfortable, early morning type had it not been for her comforter being yanked off her without any warning. Through the fogginess of morning sight, she could make out Ms. Olson in her traditional black suit co-ord. She thought it fitting, considering her morning was now ruined.

     - Get up. We have much to do. - she barked like an infuriating dog.

     - But I thought I had the weekend off.- Y/N rubbed the sleep of her eyes, sitting up, quilt covering her body. 

     - You have last mine commitment. Now run along and change into something more ... - he analysed her before gazing her face, tight expression settling in. - Enchanting. 

She left Y/N in the bedroom, clenching her bedding as she looked around the place she’d rather be. Nevertheless, she rose from her bed and walked up to her wardrobe grabbing the first dress she could find and a pair of heels. Her routine during work was different, she normally showered, got her makeup done, dressed and then out of the door. Mechanic, controlled, with Ms. Olson asking her to hurry up. In a split second she returned to the living room, bag held on her shoulder, sunglasses in hand as she prepared to walk out with Miss Olson.

    - You should’ve put some product on your hair. The ends look dry. - Miss Olson commented as they walked outside. She looked around hoping Bucky would be around but it was just her and Miss Olson. 

    - Is Mr. Barnes not coming? 

    - It’s a dress rehearsal. - Y/N froze in her mind. Dress rehearsals were supposed to be better than fittings but after her last experience she really wasn’t in the mood for another experience with the director.

Time seemed to stop, freeze in spot as she stepped inside the car. No noise, no sound, even colour seemed to fade as the car drove faster and faster. She wondered what she could do, open the door, roll over, maybe do it like what she had seen in Lady Bird but the driver always kept the door fully locked and Miss Olson always had her eye on her like Sauron’s Eye.

She looked at her phone in her lap, fingers loomed over Bucky’s name. He was employed by her, maybe she could ask him to come over. Maybe if he was there it would be easier. She sent the message hopeful he would reply, but the text bounced back. Looking at the network, she was lacking all the bars on her phone. Sighing, she leaned against the car seat, looking off the window, dark clouds on the blue sky mocking her. 

As the car came to a halt on the same building as before, she almost had to be pulled out the car by Miss Olson. Once inside, Y/N could see him, she could smell his patchouli fragrance as he wrapped his arm around her. She stood once again in front of the camera lights, muffled cries in her head as she was squeezed into a corset and a then a body con dress. Her eyes were blinded by the lights, behind those lights Miss Olson and Mister Powell gazing at her. Her hand slide down her collarbones to her lap, feeling the fabric as the cameras kept flashing, locking her in a case of lights. 

Once the lights dimmed, she could see them looking down at her, almost five feet tall, mumbling she couldn’t hear as one of the costume designers helped her out.

     - Costumes are looking fantastic. - the director walked up to her, hand wrapping itself around her waist, raising up to lay just below her breast. - Maybe you should try and cut some weight. You would look a bit better.

     - We’ve already started a diet plan. - Miss Olson added. - Not to worry, Mr. Powell. Y/N is fully invested in this movie.

She remained caged in the conversation, being moved by someone back onto the car and dropped at home. She looked around her hallway, wondering if it had always been this cold. As she opened the door to her home, she noticed the jar of flowers the director had sent her on her kitchen balcony. White carnations in a crystal clear jar. She stormed to the kitchen, ripping the tag of the carnations. To my perfect leading lady. The handwriting wasn’t his, probably his assistant. 

When had it all gone so wrong? Why did it felt wrong? Why did the flight felt like a burning crash? When did it all get so screwed up? 

She wrapped her hands around the glass jar, hands trembling, the sound of her ring hitting against the glass being the only thing she heard before a shattering sound filled her mind. It was fast, too fast but she threw the jar against the wall, watching as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, falling into the ground like small diamonds. She thought it would make her feel better but instead she feel to the ground, trying to gather the pieces together as guilt embraced her. 

    - Y/N?

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