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seraphimcollections · 4 months ago

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fading part. ii

pairing: johnny silverhand x reader

summary: fate was a double edged sword. finally you were free of your gilded cage, free to possibly start anew. but old habits die hard.

warnings: gun violence, murder, blood, kidnapping, grooming (not by johnny), rockstar behavior, angst angst angst! sexual implications, eventual smut, slowburn, secret enemies to lovers, fluff.

a.n: hey everyone! thx for the love and for your patience. luv ya!

word count: 3k

masterlist

///[memory shard detected]…uploading…//[2010][memory uploaded]///

You squirmed in your seat across from your uncle. You found yourself seated across from him in your parlor, sat at the table in the center of the room. You couldn’t rid the feeling of shame not knowing your uncle’s visit was scheduled for today, not having the courage to look him in the eye — even if they were hidden behind his glasses. Saburo Arasaka seemingly didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, choosing instead to stare you down from across the table. His gaze alone made you feel small like a child. The painful silence finally ended when Yumi set the kettle of piping hot green tea between the two of you.

“It seems my presence comes as quite the shock to you, niece,” Saburo finally spoke in his gravelly voice.

You gulped before finally speaking up, choosing to keep your gaze safely in your fiddling hands, “yes, well it was a bit of surprise.”

“I tried to warn you,” Tomie spoke over you, making you flinch.

You laughed nervously, “I suppose you did, didn’t you?”

Saburo watched as Yumi poured him some tea before serving you, only speaking when Yumi left you, bowing deeply before.

“You’re slacking on your studies,” Saburo said sharply. “Your teachers have told me so.”

You sighed. “Yes, well I haven’t felt the motivation to learn something I have no passion for….”

“That may be so, but you’ve also been slacking in your monitoring of the Net as well, mei.”

You supposed there was no way news of your slump would make its way back to your uncle eventually. Everything did. You let out another heavy sigh, encasing the small cup of tea in your hands.

”How is Yorinobu? I’m sure he’s making strides. And pretty Hanako, how is she holding up?” You try.

“話題を変えるなよ、ヒナ。don’t try to change the subject、 Hina,” Saburo frowned.

You bowed your head again, “ごめんなさい I’m sorry”

“Must I remind you of how integral your skill is in the protection of Arasaka?” Saburo said.

“No, uncle,” you said submissively.

“Good. Enough of this rot, tomorrow you are to resume your lessons while continuing your surveillance,” Saburo sipped his tea.

He continued to talk but it all but faded away. It was all the same, day in and day out. Wake up, eat, lessons for the majority of the day then surveillance late into the night until you were on the edge of letting your brain fry before collapsing to sleep. And then start all over again the next day. Never stopping, the wheel keeps turning. Even when you showed signs that you needed help, like now, it went ignored. When will it end?

Your gaze hardened as your hands turned to fists in your lap. It’s now or never.

”Uncle, can I ask you something?” You say, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Anything, my child,” Saburo said, though you knew in his tone he was only half interested.

“What would you say if, if I were to go out for a little while,” you say, carefully looking up to watch his expression.

Saburo nods, “of course, an outing to grab more essentials. We can arrange something for you that way security can accompany you.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Was it that hard to believe that you wanted to experience life beyond these walls? Did he truly believe that you would only aspire to be under his thumb? An unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in your chest, your face beginning to get hot. This feeling, you recognized it from the faces of those people rioting in front of your family’s name. Anger.

Angry how you are constantly dismissed, overlooked. Only seen for your skills and nothing beyond that. Part of you should know better — this may be a family business, but it was still a business as your uncle had been at the helm for almost a century and there was no sign of him releasing the reins, completely anyway. You were grateful, of course, no one who wasn’t in your position would have access to the best chrome and tech in the industry. Your life was privileged, you just weren’t sure just how privileged — and there was no way of knowing if you remained trapped in this gilded cage.

You remained silent for a moment, shuffling your thoughts in your head. You knew your uncle was a clever man so you had to play your cards carefully. You took in a breath before straightening your posture. Saburo met your gaze of conviction as a twinge of interest.

”I meant going on an extended stay, somewhere beyond the city. Possibly the country,” you say firmly.

Saburo cocks an eyebrow, “a trip? That’s preposterous, where is this coming from?”

“I believe it would help me get out of this slump,” you reasoned, “I wouldn’t be away for long, only a short while to regroup and resume my lessons and my work for the corporation. That way I can perform at my best-“

”And where would you go?” Saburo frowned, obviously not pleased by your proposal.

You shrugged, “I haven’t given the location much thought, but-“

“The answer is no,” Saburo had shut you down.

Your next words died on the tongue as your hope was beginning to drain quickly.

“But uncle-“

“No,” Saburo glared at you, “you are safe here. Not out there where any lowlife could easily abduct you and use you for their own personal gain or pleasure. No, I won’t allow it.”

“Uncle, please listen-“

“You shall remain here and resume your studies as planned, end of discussion.”

You let out an exasperated breath and shook your head, “why won’t you listen?”

“Why should I? You are young and naive, my young niece. You are unaware of just how evil and corrupt this world is. No matter where you go, rot touches all — except here, where I can keep you safe,” Saburo stood to his feet. “I won’t hear anymore of this, understood?”

You couldn’t justify an answer. Everything screamed for you to submit like you always had, to go with the status quo. But there was this small, irritating voice that nagged at you to not let this go.

“Then I will remain miserable for the rest of my days,” your voice weakened, letting your head fall. “Uncle, I’ve lost count of the days, I don’t even know what today is. I’ve sunk into his routine that is slowly drowning me and tearing me apart from the inside out.”

You looked up at him, fire in your eyes, “I am eternally grateful for the protection and life you have given me. Raising me from a young age, taking me under your wing as your own after mother…. But as I remain here, I feel as if I am nothing but a machine, built to only produce results. I am blessed with my skills, and I’m so very grateful for the tools at my disposal.

But please know, I will never feel like I have lived if you continue to keep me here. I will never stop asking, and my condition will continue to decline. Please, see reason, uncle.”

Saburo stood across from in silence, his eyes analyzing you. It was at this moment you realized his gaze didn’t make you falter, you maintained your gaze into his eyes. The silence felt like it rolled on forever until Saburo shattered it.

“I will give it some thought,” he said, watching your face light up, “but until then you return to your studies, understood?”

You beamed and nodded your head excitedly, “yes, of course, thank you uncle!”

Saburo nodded, before leaving the room, signaling his goodbye. You couldn’t help but celebrate, jumping from your seat and throwing your hands over your head.

“Yes!” You whispered to yourself, holding your hands to your racing chest. “I hope this works.”

Saburo rounded the corner before stopping, his hands hidden in his sleeves.

“Tomie, run a diagnostic,” he ordered.

A few seconds passed before Tomie’s voice chimed quieter and out of earshot of you.

“The young mistress remains healthy and uncorrupted, master,” she answered.

“And her brain neurons, no discrepancies to be seen?” He said, his face stoic.

”No master Saburo. Her neural pathways stay harbored at a safe 94%, two percent lower than last month however,” Tomie said.

“Hm, very well then. Keep an eye on her and notify me of any differences,” Saburo began his path to the AV pad again. “I don’t need any ghosts rearing their heads now.”

///[memory shard complete]...ERROR - MEMORY LOST///

/[new memory shard detected - upload commencing…]\

Surprising to you, the escalation to your spontaneous trip outside of Osaka. You were shocked when your Uncle had asked you (though it didn’t sound like he was asking) to accompany him on a business trip. You immediately jumped at the chance, excited to finally not only be able to leave your lavish apartment, but possibly even the country. You were excited, until he told you where this said business trip was taking place. Night City, one of the last free cities in the Western hemisphere and one of Arasaka’s strongest footholds. Also, home to one of the biggest rocker bands, Samurai. Your expression gave you away easily.

“I expected you to be happier, are you perhaps not ready for a trip?” Saburo said.

“N-No! I am uncle, thank you for the opportunity,” you said, flustered.

You were in fact more ready than you could ever be. You had dived deep into the lore of what was the Anarchist group that was Samurai. In the short amount of time since you’ve discovered the riot video, you’ve listened to nearly every album, even going as far to memorize some of their lyrics. You scoured the Net to find more information about its band members: Henry, the bassist, Denny, the drummer, Nancy, she played the keys and there was the vocalist and lead guitarist, Kerry. And the one that had garnered your attention the most, the lead singer Johnny Silverhand. Interestingly, you found his old military file, learning he had served in the Second Central American War before leaving, somehow ending up in the claws of Night City.

You weren’t completely oblivious to the treacherousness that belonged to Night City. You could tell from the sour expressions from the mention of the name NC that the name didn’t garner much good feelings. But you found yourself surprisingly in good spirits. Of all the places your Uncle could have permitted you to go to, it was Night City, Silverhand’s city. It felt like fate.

The giddiness didn’t subside as the AV soared over the towering mega buildings, your face pressed against the glass. You couldn’t stop smiling, trying to take everything in but it was impossible. Night City was so much different compared to Osaka. It had an edge as sharp as a knife that made your blood race with thrill. All this adrenaline and you hadn’t stepped foot in the city’s streets.

“Remember why you are here, Hina,” Saburo said, his voice strict. “This isn’t all for childish fun.”

You flinched at his harsh words, sinking back into your seat across from him.

“Yes, I’ll try my best,” you said with your head bowed.

Saburo nodded, “you’ll make sure to do so. This isn’t the same as hiding in your cradle and operating behind the scenes, child. This is reality, and I won’t tolerate any degree of failure.”

Your eyes cast over to the veil folded neatly on the side table.

“Yes but is the veil really necessary?” You question.

“Your identity is our biggest asset, if those of our enemies were to know that Arasaka harbors the little netrunner that’s been slowing down all of their systems, they would not stop until they had a hold of such a weapon,” Saburo said matter-of-factly.

His cold words cut you. Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. A weapon? Was that all he saw in you?

“Child, it is for your protection and first and foremost,” Saburo said. “This city has a ceaseless supply of opportunists who will be happy to hold you for ransom.”

You nod with a small smile, “I’m not worried, uncle. I know I am protected under your watchful eye.”

Saburo grunted at your words as the AV began to lower itself into the landing pad of Konpeki Plaza.

“The veil, don’t take it off until I say so. The veil will conceal your appearance to the naked eye but will be untraceable within surveillance as well,” Saburo said.

You nodded and did as you were told, placing the veil over your head and letting the translucent fabric hide your face. The door opened up to a line of Arasaka soldiers standing tall. Saburo stepped out first and you quickly after. You kept your hands clasped together in front of you and your head lowered. You could feel the intense gazes of the men and women who stood in a stiff line. They were unwavering in their rigorous training, that’s why they were able to stand where they stood today, but even they were curious to glimpse upon the face of the forgotten Arasaka child.

You followed Saburo through a doorway and down a long corridor. Servants and corp workers alike quickly stepped aside as you were escorted further into the lavish hotel. You followed him into a private elevator accessed only by an Access Card. The two of you were joined by two of Saburo’s staff and a single soldier. Finally the doors slid open to a penthouse that almost rivaled back home. Almost. You finally lifted your head to look around the room, finding it slightly smaller than your penthouse back home but equally as lavish. You stood unsure of what to do next as Saburo’s staff brought in your bags.

Saburo finally turned back to you, “this is where you will be staying when you are not working at Arasaka Tower. You will be free to do as you wish within these walls, but if you are to wander outside you will have a guard by your side 24/7 and your all activities will be reported back to me.”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, your shoulders sagging.

“Is something wrong?” said Saburo.

You shook your head, “no! It’s just..-”

“Spit it out, my time is valuable,” Saburo frowned.

“O-Of course, uncle. I was just hoping that this trip would come with more…freedom?” You voice quietly.

Saburo scoffed, “a foolish hope. Remember your place.”

You flinched but nodded. Saburo walked past you without as much of a glance.

“I’ll leave you to settle in for the night. Tomorrow I will come to retrieve you for our visit to Arasaka Tower,” He stated.

Your brow furrowed in frustration as Saburo entered the elevator and left without another word. You let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You looked at the two staff who were assisting in unpacking your things.

“Please, leave those things to me,” you say gently.

The two women looked at each other in unease before one spoke up, “but Arasaka-san, it’s would be-”

“Please, I insist. Go and tend to your other more urgent tasks,” you say, turning your backs to them as you approach the living area.

“Yes, mistress,” was all the women muttered before quickly shuffling to the elevator.

It was only then when the elevator closed on them did you feel like you could finally breathe. You ripped the white off your head, throwing it on the marble floor in anger. This was not something you would have agreed to if you knew you were agreeing to be kept in another cage. How was this any better than Osaka? You almost wanted to cry. You shrugged off the robe from your shoulders before walking over to one of your suitcases left half unpacked.

“Oh good,” you crouched down as you scrummage through the last items, “she didn’t find it.”

You pulled out a slim case that you had tucked deeply in the case before you left Japan. Opening the slot revealed a small shard which you picked up and slotted into your neck. You hummed as the new software integrated itself into your cyberdeck. Your eyes glowed in a familiar white hue as you stood to your feet again.

“Tomie, are you there?” You say quietly.

“Yes, I am here. There is no need to speak to me directly if you wish to be discreet, Hina-san,” Tomie spoke to you in your mind.

You sighed, “thank goodness, I’m happy to see the upload worked.”

“It is quite the accomplishment, young mistress. You were able to compress my AI presence into a simple shard all while being undetected. Your engineering skills are becoming more than sufficient.”

“Guess all those hours of lessons really did pay off, huh?” You chuckle as you walk up to the floor-to-ceiling window showing the neon skyline of Night City.

The city hummed, buzzed. It felt almost alive. A beast that wouldn’t hesitate at the chance to swallow you whole. The danger was seductive in that way, and you were sure that you would not be the first or the last of its victims. Countless opportunities, endless choices, all at your fingertips -- but you only wanted one thing. To finally break free of this cage and feel something. So you were going to seek out the one thing that made you feel something new in such a long time. His face flickered in your reverie as you pressed your palm against the cool glass.

“If this is my only chance, then I have to take it,” your gaze hardened as you stared into your reflection. “No matter what.”

“Are you prepared for what you might risk, young mistress?” Tomie questioned. “If you are caught, you may never step outside again. Your uncle would guarantee it.”

You let out a shaky breath, “then so be it. I can’t live knowing that I didn’t try.”

“Then I will try to be of assistance in any way that I can,” Tomie said.

You nodded, fire in your eyes. There was nothing that would change your mind. You were going to find Johnny Silverhand, even if it were the last thing you’d do.

///[Memory shard complete]///ERROR..MEMORY SHARD MALFUNCTION//[dATA LOST]///

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#cyberpunk 2077 x you #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x you #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #fanfic #seraphim collections: fading

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letsquestjess · 1 year ago

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Protective Measures - Part 1 (Howzer x GN!Reader)

Summary: During diplomatic talks on Ryloth, Howzer is assigned as your security. In the weeks you spend together, unfortunate feelings begin to bloom.

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: None. Future parts will be 18+.

Part 2

-- -- -- -- --

“If Ryloth had any sense of propriety, they would have arranged for separate shuttles and a grand procession,” Senator Kel proclaimed, gesturing with dark, well-groomed nails at the cramped confines of the craft.

“It is rather stuffy,” Senator Evana granted. With a graceful flick, she brushed her sleek, golden hair away from her face and stuffed her nose in the air. “I suppose their resources are not as ambitious as we may have assumed.”

Many of the others fell into synchronised agreement like simpering dominoes, and you resisted the urge to shake your head at their finicky behaviour. You said nothing. As a representative from an inconsequential planet, your voice was constantly disregarded and dismissed unless it was to offer something deemed valuable. However, you were not going to sit in silence during the negotiations. You had plenty of experience fighting back, and you weren’t about to let them intimidate you. Your people depended on you, and you approached your job with a deep sense of responsibility.

“Anyone would think we were being taken prisoner,” Senator Evana retorted, earning herself a round of pretentious laughs.

Wriggling in your seat, your eyes drew across the magnificent display of clouds unfurling in the boundless expanse below as the ship broke through Ryloth airspace and smoothly landed on the private docking platform on the outskirts of Lessu. Beside the landing pad, a large cluster of clones and a neat line of stone-faced officers stood in formation.

You let the rest of the senators file out before you got to your feet and ventured into the blazing sunlight, defending your eyes with your arm. While your colleagues voiced their demands and complaints, you waited.

A uniformed Twi’lek officer approached at a purposeful speed and scrolled through his datapad. The accompanying clone halted a few steps behind. “Welcome to Ryloth, senator,” the officer huffed, his words carrying the weight of practised repetition. He gestured to the helmeted man with him. “This is Captain Howzer. He will be your security for the duration of your stay. If you need anything, let him know.”

Without so much as a pause for a response, the official departed to attend to the others, leaving you alone with your protector. Your outstretched hand was met with a hesitant shake from the captain, and you introduced yourself.

“Is it always so busy during a visit?” you asked as he guided you through the crowded mass of clones and politicians and officers and towards the translucent plasma bridge.

“It’s not been this lively for a while,” Howzer replied, his low tones modulated by the helmet’s speakers. “But you don’t need to worry. Everything has been taken care of.”

“I can see that,” you said. Glancing around, the griping senators seemed to have been pacified for the time being, promised all that tumbled from their lips and satisfied with their provisions.

“Is there anything in particular you need while you’re here? Food requirements, wake-up calls, that sort of thing?” Howzer questioned.

“Just a quiet room nowhere near the other senators,” you answered with a light-hearted chuckle.

“In that case, you’ll be glad to know your apartment is in a quieter part of the complex.”

You silently thanked your lucky stars. The last few trips with them had been a taxing ordeal, and you dreaded a repeat of the squabbles that ran over into the night and the disagreements that hounded you at the dining table. You were determined that this time would be different, and the idea of a suite secluded enough to shield you from uncompromising politicians seemed like a promising start.

* * *

As the surrounding arguments escalated into a near screaming match, you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. Amidst the fury, fingers were jabbed accusingly, and insults flew in a storm of spit and indignation.

“How dare you question my integrity when your barbarous planet cannot go a rotation without threatening each other,” Senator Evana fumed. Her chair squeaked as it was unceremoniously shoved backwards and she rose to her feet. The man that she argued with scoffed a derisive snort, and his response only provoked her further.

“With all due respect, Senator Evana, what you’re suggesting would divert vital resources from many of our planets,” you interjected, tired of the arrogance accumulating by the second. “What are we to tell our people when they ask why taxes have increased to cover your costs, and how they are supposed to access necessities when you have taken so much? I refuse to put the citizens of my world in such a position for nothing more than pure greed.”

Several senators in your vicinity aired their agreements with your sentiment and added their outright refusal into the mix.

“Ever the compassionate soul,” Kel scorned. “I think Senator Evana has a point.”

“Only because you benefit from whatever she gains,” you snapped. Kel’s intense gaze pierced through you, but you stood firm, refusing to falter at his weak attempts to daunt you.

Following another bout of viciously worded disagreements and scathing remarks, the advocate of the meeting called for a temporary suspension and a continuation was set for the next morning. Seething, the senators piled out of the room, clenching their fists and spitting their displeasure.

“After what I’ve just witnessed, I think it’s safe to say that war and politics have at least one thing in common,” Howzer said, as he accompanied you from the hall.

“And what would that be?” you asked.

“They’re both cutthroat.”

You let out a small laugh at that. “Perhaps, but the chances of me getting shot are considerably lower than yours,” you pointed out.

“I don’t know,” the clone captain confessed jokingly. “Senator Kel definitely looked like he’d happily take a swipe.”

“He’s all bark and no bite.”

Throughout the weeks you had spent on Ryloth, you discovered a surprising ally in Howzer, someone you could trust and confide in. Meeting after meeting, he attentively listened to your grievances and showed a genuine concern for your troubles, soothing them with reassurances and the occasional quip to cheer you up.

“But I don’t want to talk about that atrocious session,” you decided, “and I’d rather not return to the apartment yet.”

“Is there anywhere you’d like to go?” he asked.

“Somewhere peaceful where there isn’t any bustle.”

For a moment he dithered, and you wondered what was going through his mind. His gloved hand absentmindedly grazed over the rough, clawed scar on his cheek.

“There must be some place for a bit of quiet,” you said.

“Many,” the captain replied. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is it?”

“You’ll be searching for some time if you want somewhere quiet in Lessu, and I’m not allowed to take you outside the city while negotiations are ongoing, unless for an emergency.”

“Ah, I see.” Hands clasped behind your hips, you surveyed the towering architecture and ornate dark-wood patterns that adorned the walls of the political centre. “I suppose we had better head to the apartment, then.”

“I didn’t say that,” Howzer said. His chestnut eyes sparkled with a knowing glimmer, and a grin curled at the corner of his lips. “Come on. This way.”

The captain steered you in the opposite direction of the capital, guiding you through hidden pathways and taking careful steps to remain concealed. You descended into the lower reaches and ascended again up a smooth slope just outside the city limits.

As soon as you reached flat land, a sprawling garden unfolded, bursting with vibrant colours and inviting you into the pruned greenery. Floral designs dispersed along grainy routes, adding a touch of elegance to the marble-tiled edge of the rectangular pool.

“This was part of a palace retreat,” Howzer explained as you marvelled at the network of flowery tracks. “When the war broke out, construction stopped. The bricks were taken and used for new military buildings, but they left the garden. Most don’t even know it’s here, but Senator Taa likes to keep it looking presentable.”

“This is… I…” You struggled to find the right words and ended up gaping, savouring the serene stillness, a complete departure from the opulent chambers and heated outbursts of your peers.

Hours passed as you walked the crunching paths, the sun casting long shadows as you swapped stories and competed to make each other laugh. For a meagre fraction in time, the seconds seemed to fade into insignificance, but with the pool beginning to turn from a deep orange to a striking red, you were forced to return to the city. To the cacophony of responsibilities and the duty that awaited, and away from that treasured tranquillity.

* * *

The dining hall buzzed with lively conversation and the rhythmic clatter of silverware. Any discussion that veered too close to a disagreement was squashed for the sake of decency at the banquet table, but the occasional gibe managed to slip through. There was no way to predict how the negotiations would end, given the constant flurry of self-interest and avarice. Somehow, it would have to happen, yet as the weeks passed with no resolution in sight, you couldn’t help but ponder the sacrifices that would need to be made for the talks to conclude. Despite the situation, your resolve endured unshaken. If it meant aiding your people and ensuring a secure future for them, you would willingly stay on Ryloth for the next cycle.

And when you thought about it, maybe extending your visit wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

From the orderly row of assigned clones by the glass doors, Howzer’s gaze locked onto yours. Ever since your walk together in the hidden gardens, your mind had drifted to him. His steadfast yet gentle nature drew you to him in a way you hadn’t expected, but it wasn’t an unwelcome emotion. Just an unfortunate one. Your duties left you wandering down diverging paths, and regardless of how you both might feel, neither of you could do anything about it.

Discreetly slipping a handful of chocolate discs from your dessert bowl into a napkin, you tucked them into your pocket and excused yourself from the table, heading into the vacant lobby. As always, Howzer trailed faithfully behind.

You reached the courtyard fountain outside and a cool mist poured over the rim to smoother the pebbles.

“You shouldn’t stay out here for too long,” the captain advised, holding his distance. Deep within his heart, he longed to be by your side, offering his warmth as a shield against Ryloth’s nighttime chill, but he withheld his desires for your sake more than his own. For now, he was happy just to be in your company.

“It gets much colder than this back home,” you said, drawing the concealed napkin from your pocket and placing it directly into his warm, battle-scarred hands. “Here. For you.” You watched as he peeled open the embroidered fabric, revealing the flat rounds of chocolate.

“Senator, I can’t accept-”

“Please. You work incredibly hard and get very little recognition for it. I know it’s only chocolate, but you deserve something nice. Consider it a small thank you for protecting me. And for keeping me sane.”

Howzer chuckled, a rough, captivating sound that had a blissful heat expanding from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

He snapped a piece between his teeth and held the bundle out to you, shaking the sweet treats temptingly until you agreed to at least take one. ‘I shall miss you when you go,’ he hopelessly craved to say as you slipped the sweet into your mouth and beamed at him in such a radiant way that he could feel the jealousy of every sun in the galaxy.

He swallowed the words with the rich, velvety chocolate and sealed them away. Such confessions would only make your inevitable parting that much more difficult, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

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thefandomwritersblog · 11 months ago

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Ghost of the Ten Horizon: Forbidden West Hekarro x Fem!OldOneOC Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort Chapter 16

Part 3: Ghost of the Ten

"Some hearts understand each other even in silence." - Yasmine Mogahed

Victoria sat at the edge of her bed, her head heavy in her hands, as she let out another exasperated groan.

"A walk? Seriously?" She muttered, her voice filled with annoyance and disbelief. "First he forces you to eat, and now you're actually considering going on this stupid walk with him? You really have lost your fucking mind, Faraday."

She stood up, her restless feet carrying her back and forth across the tiny room. Was she going crazy? Had hunger and despair finally driven her to complete insanity? It was the only rational explanation for agreeing to Hekarro's request. She didn't even want to think about facing the ruins of her past again, let alone take a stroll with a man she barely knew. So what in the fuck was she thinking?!!

Victoria prided herself a decent judge of character, despite a few past mistakes. She had always been this way, even as a child. With the weight of the Faraday name on her shoulders, she knew that people only sought her out for their own gain - whether it was her mother's influence or access to their status. It was a lonely position to be in, constantly surrounded by those who wanted something from her rather than genuine friendship.

And yet, Hekarro had her stumped.

Usually, it was easy for her to see through people, yet he remained a mystery to her. Stern and commanding, yet surprisingly gracious and self-assured. She almost wanted to believe he was honest, but quickly dismissed the thought with a scowl. In her experience, no one was truly honest; all that mattered was if the cost was worth the lies and manipulation.

So what was his deal?

What did he want from her?

And what was he willing to do to get what he wanted?

Victoria couldn't deny the unease that Hekarro's presence brought. He held all the power in this unfamiliar world - more knowledge, more resources. Even the thought of leaving the museum and braving a world that had changed drastically in the thousand years she was asleep made her pause. Survival would be damn near impossible on her own. Which meant that she was stuck here with Hekarro and his tribe if she wanted to live, under his control.

But then again…

Was it really so terrible to strike out alone and fight for her life, as she should have done a millennium ago?

A bitter chuckle escaped her as tears welled up in her eyes. She could practically hear her mama's disapproving voice, chiding her for her reckless thoughts. But what did her mama know? She was nothing but a fleeting memory now, ripped away too soon, leaving Victoria to question if her life was even worth fighting for anymore.

A sudden noise at the curtain drew her attention. The soft scuffle of feet somewhere on the other side and she scowled as she stalked over to pull it back with a sharp tug. Instead of Hekarro, she was met with Beta, the timid young 'doctor'. Her red curls bounced as she squeaked in surprise at being caught off guard. "I-I have food," she stammered, holding out a tray with shaky hands.

"Where's Hekarro?" Victoria grumbled with a sneer. "He said… He was supposed to be back later, and it's been hours."

"Are you going to throw something at me if you don't like the answer?" Beta asked timidly, flinching slightly as if expecting an outburst from Victoria. White-hot shame flooded her cheeks at that, and Victoria suddenly found she couldn't quite look the girl in the eye anymore.

"No," Victoria bit out sharply. "Just give me the damn food."

With a bashful smile, Beta handed over the tray. It held a small meal of seared meat and assorted vegetables, accompanied by crude silverware and a simple bowl of water. Victoria's nose wrinkled as she grunted under her breath and turned away, letting the curtain fall back into place. She walked over to her bed and sat down. She was half-tempted to throw the tray through one of the many cracks in the wall, but she couldn't resist the gnawing hunger in her gut and began to eat.

Beta's voice echoed from the other side of the curtain, pulling Victoria out of her thoughts. "How are you feeling?"

"Go away, kid," she bit out between mouthfuls of food, but instead of leaving, Beta spoke again.

"I'm… I'm really glad you're feeling good enough to eat."

Victoria scoffed and glared down at her tray, muttering, "Does no one in this crazy, fucked-up world understand the meaning of 'go away'?"

A soft voice responded from behind the curtain, playful and almost teasing. "We do, but only when asked nicely."

A moment passed in surprised silence before a small smile appeared on Victoria's face, and she couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the audacity. "Feeling bold now that there's a curtain between us, huh?"

"I suppose I am." There was a quiet laugh. "I'll take it though. It means that we get to talk. And talking is good!"

"Yeah? How do you figure that?"

There was a moment of silence, followed by the sound of shuffling feet and a heavy sigh. Then Beta's soft voice broke through, saying, "I used to be just like you. Scared, alone, and hiding from an unknown world outside. It seems easier to be by yourself, but it's isolating and can make you feel hopeless. Sometimes death even seems like a better option than facing it all alone." There was a bitter laugh before she added, "If it weren't for Aloy and her friends, I would have given up completely. They showed me that there are people who care and want to help. And I want you to know that there are people here who care and want to help you too, and that you don't have to be alone…"

Victoria swallowed down the bitter, vile retort that coated her tongue and quickly changed the subject. "You never answered my question: Where's Hekarro?"

"The Chief," Beta replied pointedly, which earned the girl a silent scowl at the curtain between them, "unfortunately had to deal with an emergency. There was a machine attack on the eastern road, and a few Tenakth were injured."

"Wait, what? Machine attack?"

An all-encompassing silence hung in the air, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. Victoria could feel her irritation growing with each passing second, until she finally decided to get up from her bed and march over to the curtain to yank it back. Beta's was looking up at her, wide green eyes regarding her with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"It's kind of complicated to explain?" Beta's voice wavered slightly.

Victoria let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, make it less complicated, kid."

Beta scrunched up her nose in thought: "Can I at least come in and sit? It'll be easier to explain that way."

Despite her annoyance, Victoria couldn't resist the pleading tone in Beta's voice. She jerked her head towards the desk before turning away and heading back towards the bed. As Beta made herself comfortable on the desk, Victoria pressed her back against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest. Another moment of silence passed, with the both of them looking at each other. The room suddenly felt small with the pair of them sitting, even though there was a whole expanse of floor between the desk and the bed.

"You know what Project: Zero Dawn was, right?"

The question hung heavy in the air, a reminder of a time when Victoria thought she had all the answers. A thousand years ago, she would have confidently answered yes. But now, she couldn't be so sure. "I thought I did."

"That's understandable," Beta said with a nod. "The truth was kept hidden from most people. It gave them hope, thinking there was a chance for humanity to win against the Swarm. But in reality, the odds were stacked too high against The Old Ones. The biosphere was collapsing at an alarming rate, and the Swarm was multiplying faster than they could keep up."

Her jaw clenched as she was reminded of the futile fight she had waged. Every beat of her heart felt like a painful reminder of the horrors she couldn't escape.

Red, red, red—glimmering red 'eyes' and the sound of mechanical chittering as black clouds blot out the sun.

Memories flooded back, haunting her with images of barren wastelands and the taste of overwhelming fear like bile on her tongue.

Screams ring out, piercing her ears. Gasping for air, she watches in terror as a SCARAB decimates one of their jets, leaving behind a trail of destruction and death. Desperately clinging to hope, she reminds herself that they just have to survive another day. Just hope and pray that Zero Dawn can bring salvation from the chaos of fire, ash, and death.

She clenched her teeth. A lie. All a lie. They were nothing but sacrificial lambs to the slaughter. She forced herself to shut it all out and refocus on Beta. "So if Zero Dawn wasn't supposed to be a superweapon, then what was it supposed to be?"

"Project: Zero Dawn was the brainchild of Dr. Elisabet Sobek and several other leading scientists at the time the Swarm was gaining traction. Simply put, it's a self-regulated terraforming system under the guidance of a fully functioning AI and her subordinate functions. It's job, once it was fully implemented, was to shut down the Swarm and rebuild Earth's biosphere from the ground up, eventually leading to the rebirth of humans from hidden facilities all across the globe."

Victoria couldn't help but cast a glance at the broken walls around her, and Beta could only really offer her a pained smile at that. "It didn't really go exactly as planned."

"Yeah, no shit kid."

"But it still worked!" Beta pointed out quickly, "GAIA, the governing AI, shut down the Swarm and rebuilt the earth. Humans may not have reclaimed their place like Elisabet had hoped, but we're still here. We're still living, still trying to make her dream—all of their dreams—a reality and--"

Beta's words felt like salt rubbed into an open wound, a constant reminder of the ones who couldn't be saved. The ones who deserved to live more than Victoria did.

"You're still here," Victoria snapped back, her hands shaking as she struggled to contain the rage building inside her. "You're the ones still living! Not them. Not me." Her nails dug into her scalp, drawing blood as she fought against the overwhelming grief and guilt consuming her. This wasn't a victory. It was a curse, a cruel twist of fate, that left her alone in a world that was no longer hers.

"Victoria, I'm sorry I--"

"Enough, Beta…."

Victoria's grief-filled reverie was abruptly interrupted by the soft baritone of Hekarro. She turned her tearful gaze up to find him standing in the doorway, an arm pushing back the heavy curtain. Despite the tiredness evident in his eyes, there was a gentle warmth in the way he looked at Beta as he entered Victoria's room and made his way towards the desk. The young woman hopped down from her perch and shifted nervously on her feet before turning to gaze at Victoria with sad eyes.

"I really am sorry." She said softly before she all but fled from the room.

Hekarro watched Beta leave before he turned that tired gaze to Victoria, who swiped away her tears furiously. "Took you long enough." She muttered ruefully, which earned her an amused smile. Hekarro dipped his head slightly and crossed a hand to his heart, thick strands of his hair falling over his shoulder at the gesture.

"Forgive me, Victoria. I would have come and collected you sooner if I could. There was an incident that required my attention."

"Right," Victoria grunted, shifting her position on the bed before standing and joining Hekarro. He nodded towards the curtains, and they exited into the hallway together. "The girl--" she hesitated, scowling at the cracked stone floor. "Beta mentioned something about a machine attack?"

"Yes, that's right." Hekarro responded, taking the lead once again and guiding them back into the museum. "A squad of my Tenakth had an unfortunate run-in with a Shell-Walker convoy on the eastern road leading to Scalding Spear."

Victoria was taken aback by his casual response. She had braced herself for rejection or a dismissive attitude, but instead he spoke to her as if she belonged in his tribe. It confused her just as much as it irritated her. She observed him from the corner of her eye as they navigated around the holograms that flanked his throne and descended into the antechamber, where her mother's exhibit lay still. Hekarro barely acknowledged it as he continued out into the main hall, Victoria trailing closely behind.

As they passed by more flickering JTF-10 holograms and made their way towards the ruined archway that led outside, she finally spoke up. "It's quiet." she observed.

Hekarro responded with a thoughtful hum. "Evenings tend to be quiet around here. The guards are currently rotating shifts and some are recovering from their encounter with the Convoy in the Maw. It should afford you some peace and quiet, yes?"

As she was led beyond the museum archway, Victoria's retort dried up before it could escape her lips. The landscape spread out before her, and for a moment her heart stopped in wonder. The sun was starting to set in the west behind them, the sky transformed into a canvas of vibrant oranges, passionate reds, and deep blues that stretched across the entire horizon like a blazing inferno. Its golden rays cast a warm glow over everything in sight, creating dancing shadows and illuminating every intricate detail of the ruins and gnarled trees surrounding her. Then, a breeze suddenly swept through the jungle, rustling the lush canopy and carrying with it a tantalizing sweetness that seemed to caress Victoria's tongue with every inhale. It was a scent so pure and untainted by the pollution and corruption of her time that it made her heart ache with longing. How could something as simple as a breeze be so breathtakingly beautiful?

She stood there quietly, lost in her thoughts as she gazed at the distant horizon with a mixture of wonder and sadness. Hekarro stood by her side, also silent until he spoke up with a simple yet profound question.

"Does it look how you remembered?"

Victoria couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "No," she admitted, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over. "This used to be all open fields before…before everything. You could see for miles, with the jets on display for tourists. There was even a road here once." she pointed to the faint outlines in the dirt, where broken asphalt was barely visible under layers of sand, dirt, and vegetation. She looked to Hekarro, who contemplated the distance with a curious look on his face. Almost as if he was trying to imagine everything she described.

Then he turned to her and his eyes met hers with a gentle kindness, and a small smile graced his lips. And her traitorous heart chose that moment to betray her and skipped several beats at the warm gaze of his honey-colored eyes, glinting with flecks of gold in the sunset. Yet again, she couldn't help but find him so stupidly handsome, though in all fairness to herself anyone would be foolish or blind to think otherwise. And she couldn't resist the idle curiosity of whether he was married or not.

She scowled and turned away, determined to block out the thought before it snowballed on her.

Taking the steps two at a time, Victoria reached the damaged road and chose a direction to start walking in. She followed the well-worn path towards the east, her ears picking up the sound of Hekarro's footsteps close behind her. He soon caught up to her as they approached a small river with a sturdy wooden bridge connecting its two banks.

In that moment, she felt completely out of her depth standing at the edge of that bridge. The vast expanse of the horizon taunted her, mocking her previous fast-paced life where she could easily traverse long distances with modern transportation. But now, in this future where she was the sole survivor of a dead time, how long would it take her to reach the Faraday Ranch now? The thought of spending days on foot to get home was both daunting and terrifying, making her feel even smaller in this unfamiliar landscape. She stole a glance at Hekarro, wondering if he understood just how immense the world truly was.

Suddenly, Hekarro motioned to his left and effortlessly matched her pace as they walked north along the bank of the river. The peaceful twilight was only interrupted by the evening birdsong and the buzzing of insects, mixing with the sound of their footsteps rustling the grass beneath their feet. She kept her gaze trained to the flowing river, watching insects and small critters flit between the reeds.

Eventually, Victoria's eyes were drawn upwards towards the sound of a distant rumble, her curiosity piqued as she and Hekarro strolled by the river. As they drew closer, the roaring sound grew louder, building into a symphony that echoed through the jungle. When the waterfall came into view, with the water cascading down and feeding into a vast lake that stretched out into the river, Victoria felt the wonder and awe strike her hard in the chest again.

She couldn't resist wandering away from Hekarro's side towards the edge of the lake. With trembling hands, she reached out to brush her fingertips against the vibrant petals of exotic flowers that crowded the field, their intense colors almost unreal in their beauty. Another breeze carried their intoxicating scent through the jungle, and filled her eyes with tears she couldn't begin to explain.

The lake too was a breathtaking sight, unlike anything she had ever seen before. Its pristine waters allowed her to see all the way to the bottom, where schools of brilliantly colored fish swam among the reeds. But it was a soft twinkling above the water's surface that drew her gaze upwards and sent her to her knees. As she fell, petals of flowers scattered into the air around her, carried away by the night wind. For above her, like diamonds on a silken black blanket, were the celestial heavens themselves. Thousands upon thousands of stars shimmered in the night sky, far more beautiful than anything in this world. Her heart caught in her chest and she fell onto her back, gazing up at the ever-moving cosmos with tears streaming down her face.

It was only when she felt the soft sway of flowers around her that Victoria realized Hekarro had joined her, laying on his back beside her in reverent silence. Together they watched the passage of the world unfold above them, lost in wonder as time slipped away unnoticed.

#horizon forbidden west #hfw #hzd #horizon zero dawn #hfw fanfic #my writing #hekarro #chief hekarro #ghost of the ten #old one oc

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years ago

Text

The Battle Begins

It's You And Me, Always: Part 9

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

It’s You and Me, Always [Masterlist]

Summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since elementary school and you both assumed that friendship was all you were destined for. However, when you both experience Chrissy’s supernatural death, you are pulled into the secrets beneath Hawkins and find that your feelings for eachother aren’t what they seem.

Warnings: swearing, visions, mentions of death, descriptions of Vecna’s curse

Word Count: 2.6k

[A/N: wow wow so sorry this series is being written so slowly, i've just been so busy with other works and uni that i didn't have time! but we are close to the end now, and i promise it'll be worth it]

<- Part 8: Right Person, Wrong Timing

The Battle Begins

“Hey, Y/n, can you pass me the box?”

Dustin’s cheery voice snapped you out of your haze, reaching out across the grass and raising the box to the boy’s hands, earning a grin.

As Dustin set down the box of nails, rattling against the crate, Eddie couldn’t help the worried frown as he looks down at you, your gaze fixated on the grass as you twisted pieces between your fingers.

You had been silent the whole ride here, barely glancing at anyone and continuously keeping your eyes on the road behind. He had tried asking you about it, but you simply dismissed him with a smile and stepped off the RV, helping Robin carry a few bags.

The smile you had given him was far from your usual gleam of sunshine he had grown so fond of.

And now, he was scared that something had happened between you. Usually, you’d be open with him about your problems, even if you were sworn to silence. Yet you were almost avoiding him. Eddie’s insecurities were kicking in; did you regret the kiss?

Truthfully, you haven’t been in the right mind since your vision. The image of your dead parents was stained into your subconscious, constantly reminding you that Vecna could take you at any time. That Vecna wanted you dead.

It was a dreadful feeling to know that you were cursed, but that escalated to terrifying proportions when finding you were related to the monster. He killed his mother and sister, then your parents… now he was coming for you.

And you couldn’t tell Eddie. Not when the idea of you dying was excruciating for him to hear. So, instead, you did your best to hide your symptoms. Every nosebleed was wiped away as quickly as it fell, your dark jumper hiding the stain. Any headache was simply masked with a sigh, pretending you were tired.

All the visions of your parents just didn’t exist.

“How’s it looking?”

You whip your head up once Eddie’s voice found its way to your ears, a smile on your lips as he sported his half-finished shield, comprised from a trash can lid and a few shiny nails.

“Badass.” You nod and he grins, glancing to Dustin before setting his shield down and flopping onto the grass next to you.

Your smile must have faltered, the mask slipping, because Eddie was bumping your shoulder, his eyes searching yours.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, sure to keep the conversation private from the boy happily hammering away in front of you.

“Yeah.” You say, voice so cheery that it even made you wince at the poor attempt.

“What’s going on?” Eddie’s eyes are wide as he waits for an honest answer. But when you don’t reply, he decides he needs to know if it is what he’s been fearing. “Is it… us?”

“What?” You look up in surprise as he shakes his head.

“It’s okay, if it is, I mean. We- It was all kinda rushed and I don’t blame you if you regret it, or-”

“Eddie.” You intertwine your hand with his, cupping his face with your other and gently tilting his head to look at you. “I don’t regret what happened. I promise you, it has nothing to do with that.”

He leans into your touch, releasing a long breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding.

“I…” You start, sighing. “I guess everything’s just catching up to me, you know?”

He nods, thumb mindlessly rubbing the back of your hand.

It was a lie. Well, it wasn’t the whole truth, at least. It was all catching up to you, way too fast for you to even react anymore. You hated keeping your symptoms from Eddie, however. You knew what it meant, you all did. You had mere hours before Vecna would try and kill you again. And considering how strong your visions were becoming, you knew it would be the last time.

So, you do what you do best. You pretend like it was all fine.

“We’re not doing this again, Y/n.”

Your father’s voice echoed behind you and your hairs stand on end, goosebumps forming along your skin.

Slowly turning behind you, your breath hitches once you see him standing there, blood running from his eyes.

“Why didn’t you save us?” He asks, your mother suddenly appearing next to him, tilting her head.

“It’s because you wanted us dead.”

“No.” You whisper out and Eddie frowns, whipping his head to you.

“What?” He follows your eyes, glancing behind him. But he doesn’t see anything. “Y/n?”

“I…” You blink, and they’re gone, leaving you breathless as Eddie searches your face, hand cupping your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He panics slightly, recognising the expression on your face. He had seen it before. After Vecna cursed you. His eyes widen. “Y/n, what did you see?”

Your eyes fill with tears before you shake your head, pulling out of his grasp. “Nothing.”

“Like I’m gonna believe that.” Eddie says, still grasping onto your hand. “Seriously, Y/n. Is it Vecna? Is he in your head again?”

“No.” You lie, “I’m fine, Eds.”

“You’re not.” Eddie looks at you, exasperated.

“Just… just leave it, okay?” You insist, reclaiming your hand and quickly standing, wiping the tears starting to fall. “Focus on trying to kill Vecna.”

You hurriedly walk away, clock chimes pounding in your mind as a sob leaves your lips.

You weren’t going to make it, you knew that. Vecna had a hold on you, using your parents to chip away at your defences. You were going to die.

But Eddie wasn’t ready for that to happen.

The RV was quieter, three kids less as the final descent into battle begun.

It left you, Eddie, Dustin, Steve, Robin, and Nancy to carry out the rest of the plan. You had the easier end of the deal, your only job was to wait inside the trailer for when the boys returned and get the hell out of there.

“It should be me.” You mutter once Steve announces Phase Two.

“She’s a stubborn kid.” Steve shrugs, sighing.

You insisted on being the bait, not wanting to put a 15 year old’s life in danger. But she was even more persistent, and you knew you weren’t going to win that fight. You didn’t have the energy.

“Phase Three?” Nancy prompts and Dustin clears his throat.

“Me and Eddie draw the bats away.” He nods, Eddie ruffling his hat. “Y/n will be on lookout below.”

Nancy continued to utter out phases, everyone merely nodding along for the third re-run tonight. Eddie was too distracted to hear the end of the plan again, however, when he was too busy looking at you.

He remembers when you offered to take Max’s place, voice steadier than he ever thought he’d heard it be. It made his stomach drop just a little, part of him grateful that the Mayfield girl had a strong will and something to prove.

“Nobody moves on to the next phase until we’ve all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what.” Nancy said sternly, looking around at everyone’s faces. “Got it?”

“Got it.” You all repeated back, grabbing gear and heading out.

There was no turning back now.

Passing through the gate was different this time, partly from the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through Eddie’s veins. They were going to kill the very thing that threatened your life. A week ago, Eddie knew nothing of Hawkins’ secrets. And now, he was voyaging into the flipped nightmare to save the town that hated his guts. But he’d do it over and over again if it kept you safe.

“Hey, guys, listen.”

You all look over to where Steve stood, concern on his face.

“If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort.” Steve commands and you smile. “Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just-”

“Decoys.” Dustin interrupts with an obvious tone, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve.”

“Absolutely.” Eddie joins in with a smirk, “I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I have it in me.” You shrug, Eddie nodding along next to you.

Steve seems to accept the answers and turns away.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie calls out just as the boy walks away. His eyes flicker to yours before he settles back on Steve, narrowing his eyes. “Make him pay.”

They exchange a brief nod before Robin, Nancy, and Steve all set off to the Creel House, leaving you with Dustin and Eddie.

“Was that…” You raise your eyebrow, hiding a smirk, “Was that some sort of… bromance I just saw?”

Eddie clicks his tongue while Dustin gasps dramatically.

“Why, Y/n,” Dustin adds, placing a hand on your shoulder and sending a shit-eating grin Eddie’s way. “I think you’re right.”

“Shut up.” Eddie chuckles as you and Dustin laugh, “Come on, let’s get this baby fortress-fied.”

“Fortified.” You correct and he just stares at you with exasperation. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t care if we’re literally in hell, fortress-fied is not a word.”

“You let me have no fun.” Eddie gawks at you and Dustin clears his throat.

“You are adorable but Y/n’s right, we need to get this fortified.” He shuffles away to start grabbing at boards of wood while you fold your arms with a smirk.

“See?” You say and Eddie shakes his head with a smile. He missed this part, the constant banter thrown beneath you both. It almost made everything feel right again.

You helped barricade the trailer, using metal wire and literally anything else you could find to help fend off the bats. The distraction was one thing, but escaping the tiny critters would be another. You didn’t need the scars coating your body to remind you of that.

As promised, you stayed behind the ‘safe wall’, looking out into the red sky, while Eddie and Dustin made it onto the roof, setting up their equipment. You just knew Eddie was having a field day with his guitar. The song he had chosen was one he had spent weeks practising, so much in fact that you not only could sing along to the words, but you could definitely perform a vocal version of their guitar solo.

“Is she-”

“Yes, Eddie. She’s safe.” Dustin reiterates once again. They had only been on the roof five minutes and Eddie’s already asked after you a thousand times. "If you’re that worried, we can always have her up here with-”

“No.” He said firmly, shaking his head as he plugs in his guitar. “She’s already been torn up by those bats once, I’m not risking it.”

Dustin looks up at him with a tilted head. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Eddie takes a breath, simply nodding his head in agreement. He was afraid to say it out loud. As if some malevolent force would take his confession as a signature to your death sentence.

When the blare of the radio in Dustin’s hands alerted them to their orders, Eddie took a deep breath.

“Copy that. Initiating Phase Three.” Dustin responds, giving Eddie a quick nod, and running to the edge of the roof to peer over.

“Y/n!” He called out and you span around to look up at him. “Initiating Phase Three!”

You give him a quick thumbs up and a smile, heading to the door of the trailer.

“We’re good.” Dustin alerted Eddie, relaying your gesture and crouching beside the speakers.

Shaking off his nerves, he spins his guitar around and looks out into the distance, glaring at the red bleed of the sky. This was his moment to prove he was useful. This was his movement to prove to himself that he was more than just ‘the freak’.

He tugs his guitar pick off from his neck.

“This is for you.” He whispers into the darkness, sure that you were safe inside and waiting for their return, and plays the first chord.

As the music starts to blast from above, you find yourself smiling. You had waited until he started playing, hand already on the handle. To hear his talent out in the open like that was important to you. Because you knew it could be the last time you ever heard it.

As your smile falters, you start to pull open the door.

“Y/n.”

You stop, a chill running down your spine. Every nerve in your body felt electrified in the worst way possible. Don’t look, Y/n, don’t look-

Taking your own advice, you swing open the door before immediately freezing, eyes wide.

Chrissy’s hollowed-out eyes stared back at you from inside the room, blood running down her face as her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Tears started form, the image of your friend so broken was too much to bear.

“This isn’t real.” You whispered to yourself, shaking your head.

And then she moved towards you. Fast.

Your body reacted before you could, already sprinting down the steps from the trailer and rushing to the gate, heart beating erratically. Even as you tried to squeeze yourself through the gap, you could feel her bony hands clawing at your hair, the metal wire scratching your skin.

You yelled out for help, but the music was too loud for anyone to hear. You were alone with your nightmares.

When you finally broke through, stumbling onto the dirt, you barely managed to catch yourself before you fell, spinning around. But Chrissy was gone.

“Y/n.”

A sob leaves your lips when you reluctantly look behind you, your mother’s own haunting face glaring at you.

“Please, no.” You beg, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Y/n.”

The next voice came from behind you again and you spin around, shaking your head. Your father stood between you and Eddie’s trailer.

“You’re not real.” You chant to yourself, shutting your eyes and taking deeps breaths, trying to focus on the chords of Eddie’s guitar vibrating through the air around you.

“But we are.”

You open your eyes and a choked gasp leaves your lips.

Their faces are barely a breath away from yours, close enough for you to see the severity of Vecna’s attack on them, faces surely searing into your brain.

Fight or flight instincts suddenly kicked in. And you were never one to fight.

Your legs took you as fast as you could, feeling like your muscles were on fire. The attempt of escape was leading you further from the trailer, further from Eddie.

Once your vision began to darken, you come to an abrupt stop, hands on your knees and trying to blink away the progressive blindness. You couldn’t die. Not now. Please not-

The air changed. You felt… light headed, almost. Goosebumps prickling your skin before you even looked up.

Vines slithered around you, coating the dark room with their greasy skin. Your breath hitches.

You remembered the rocking horse in the corner, collecting dust from years and years of neglect. The ancient chest that didn’t hold anything of importance coated in the same age beside it, the light beaming onto it from the window.

You remembered these because you had spent days rifling through this attic. You were back in the Creel House. The house where your life started to end.

“Hello Y/n”

Your blood ran cold. Body shaking, you slowly turn around to meet Vecna’s milky gaze. He tilted his head.

“It’s time we officially met”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Part 10: ...Always ->

taglist: @aedicn | @yourdailymemedelivery | @toobsessedsstuff | @tayhar811 | @idkidknemore

#stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #st4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things

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severed-ties-uf · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Fifteen: Familial Complications

Tw: Minor child abuse

This takes place roughly three days after the previous chapter.

Sans sits on his bed, reading through a book on celestial bodies he had found in the dump a week prior. The book was of human origin, having fallen down from the surface. Sans admittedly had always had a fascination with space, and the stars above, despite never seeing them for himself. He had been glued to the book for the past half hour, and just continued to read.

Eventually, Sans gets bored. He bookmarks the page and closes the book, stretching his arms upwards momentarily, he proceeds to place the book on his nightstand, directly next to a picture of Chara.

Sans picks up the small picture frame, laying down with his head propped up on his pillow, admiring his beloved Chara. When the picture had been taken (only three weeks ago), Chara had just returned from their first proper date with him, still wearing their beautiful black dress.

Sans can’t help but smile and blush, “they looked so beautiful in that. Still can’t believe they’re officially mine” he almost-pridefully thought to himself.

Sans places the picture back down, his mind now preoccupied with thoughts of Chara. His thoughts were short lived however, because he was suddenly interrupted by a yell from downstairs.

“Sans! Get your ass down here, now!” His father barked.

Sans sits up, letting out a loud sigh and an angry growl. “Can’t I have a moment of fucking peace for once?!” He says to himself. Sans teleports downstairs in front of the couch, there he sees his father looking incredibly irritated, his right hand scrunched against his skull.

“Oh, THERE you are.” Gaster bites, roughly grabbing Sans by the shoulder. “Your brainless brother ran off a bit ago and he’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Papyrus?!” Sans responds in disbelief “how?” He asks.

“I was in the lab in the basement for a measly two hours. Two fucking hours, unsupervised and he ran off.” Gaster answered.

“He’s FIVE!” Sans retorted, angrier than ever.

“I sincerely would’ve thought that a five year old, especially one of mine, would be mature enough to sit still for two whole hours.” Gaster responded, dismissive of Sans' claim. “I don’t know why you’re trying to pin this on me.”

“Because it’s your fault! It’s your fault with your shit parenting that this ever happened in the first place! He’s a toddler! He’s YOUR responsibility!” Sans angrily yells, pushing his father off of him. “And I don’t know how delusional you’d have to be in order to-“

“SILENCE!” Gaster yells, cutting Sans off. He grabs his son with blue magic and slams him into the ground, holding him there. “Don’t you DARE fucking talk back to me, especially blatantly insulting me!”

Sans grunts in pain, desperately trying to pull himself up, to no avail. He resorts to teleporting out of the blue Magic’s effects. Now standing a couple meters away from where he previously stood.

“Resourceful yet.” Gaster states dismissively, shrugging. “Now, he’s somewhere out in Snowdin, go and find him.” He says, turning away and waving his hand toward the door.

“Wha-? You’re not going to look yourself? Or even help?” Sans asks, somehow shocked yet completely unsurprised at the same time.

“No, I’ve got an important experiment to run.” Gaster replies walking away.

“More important than your own fucking son?!”

“Do I need to repeat myself about the back talk?” Gaster asks, turning to completely face Sans, pointing his finger to the door, as his eyes turn completely black, “GO. FIND. HIM.”

Without a word, Sans teleports outside the house, pulling his hood up. Sans walks and walks, seemingly endlessly—constantly mumbling to himself about his hatred for his father and pondering the whereabouts of his brother—not finding a trace, even after what felt like an hour.

Eventually, he hears a familiar voice, not the one he was looking for, but a helpful one nonetheless.

“Hey, Sans!” They voice called out.

Sans turned to face Jackie clinging onto a tree. “Hey, Jackie. Mind lending a hand?”

“Looking for your brother?” Jackie asked, jumping down from the tree and walking up to Sans.

“Yeah, actually. Have you seen him?” Sans asks. Jackie may not be his brother, but having a member of the best trackers in the underground on his side was more than he could ask for.

“I have in fact, last I saw him, Dr. Gaster had just teleported him back home. That was about fifty minutes ago.” Jackie responds.

“Wait. Dad… brought him home? FIFTY minutes ago?!” Sans asks in disbelief. He checks the time, he’s been searching for around fifty minutes as well. “I…” Sans starts, anger slowly building up inside him.

“I’m guessing that bastard didn’t tell you that?”Jackie asks, placing a comforting hand on Sans' shoulder.

“No, in fact: he specifically told me he WASN’T going to look for him.” Sans replies, his eyes momentarily turning completely black. Sans pauses, taking a deep breath.

Jackie almost laughs, “and I thought MY dad was bad, holy shit.” He says, trailing his hand through his hair.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Sans replies, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his arm. “How did you know I was searching for my brother anyway?” He asks.

“Oh, I heard you mumbling to yourself about it.” Jackie replies, “I’ve just been chilling in and out of the woods here for the past hour or two, I had just returned when I heard you mumbling in the distance, curious, I investigated.”

“Fair enough.” Sans replied. “At any rate, I should probably head home now, I’ve certainly got some words for my father.”

“Yeah, good idea. I should probably return to my home as well. Funny, because I specifically came out here to get away from them.” Jackie chuckles to himself. “Oh, and- Sans?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I was at the palace yesterday, and it turns out, Chara has a handmade plush of you that they apparently sleep with and cuddle constantly.” Jackie says smiling and chuckling to himself. “Don’t tell them I said that, though.” He adds, winking.

Sans blushes “W- wait, r-really?”

“Yup. Not only did I see it with my own two eyes, but his highness told me all about it. All I’m saying, is that they must REALLY love you.”

“They do, trust me. And I love them back all the same.” Sans says.

“Alright, imma head home, see ya!” Jackie says, before dashing into the distance.

Sans teleports back home, directly into the kitchen, there he sees Gaster and Papyrus at the table preparing dinner.

Papyrus, upon seeing Sans, runs up to him, and wraps his arms around his waist in a hug. “Brother's home!” He exclaims.

Sans returns the hug, before resting his hand on top of Papyrus’s skull. “That I am.” Sans replies.

Papyrus, let’s go and heads back to the table, Sans makes eye contact with Gaster, giving him a death glare.

“What?” Gaster asks, pretending to be innocent.

“You said that you weren’t going to search for him because you had an experiment to run, and that I had to go hunt him down myself. Only for you to go to him pretty much immediately after I left and bring him home without telling me. WHY?” Sans asks angrily.

Gaster laughs. “Oh, Sans. I didn’t lie, my experiment was testing the new underground smart surveillance system and its effectiveness for finding targets. It just so happens that Papyrus happened to run off on the perfect day to test it. You acted as the control group, to see how long it would take to find someone without the use of the system, and your pathetic ass couldn’t even find a single clue! To me, that’s a successful test, proving its capability, and prompting for wide implementation.” He says, condescendingly.

Sans stays silent, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

——————

Two hours later, after eating dinner, Sans sits in his room on his phone, eventually deciding to text Chara. {

Sans: “hey sweetheart”

Chara: “Hi, Sans! :D”

Chara: “How are you?”

Sans: “not so great”

Chara: “Oh… :( What happened?”

Sans: “earlier father called me down saying that papyrus had gone missing”

Sans: “turns out father had left him unsupervised for two hours and he got out.”

Chara: “Oh, no! Is Papyrus okay!?”

Sans: “yeah, he’s fine”

Sans: “after an argument about his bad parenting leading to him throwing me to the ground, he said that i had to go and find him and that he had to stay back to ‘work on an important experiment’”

Chara: “That’s awful! D: Did he hurt you?!”

Sans: “no lasting damage, just temporary pain”

Sans: “when i went searchin i didn’t find anything”

Sans: “but i did eventually run into jackie who told me that he saw dad teleport papyrus home a while ago”

Chara: “Wait, what?! So he just sent you out there for no reason?!”

Sans: “when i got back I saw him and papyrus preparing dinner”

Sans: “turns out his ‘experiment’ was testing out the new smart surveillance system to see how fast it can find someone”

Sans: “papyrus had just happened to wander off earlier and father took the advantage”

Chara: “That’s cruel! Why did he still make you go out then?”

Sans: “he says that it was to compare physically searching for someone, to doing so with the security system”

Sans: “however i'm convinced that his sadistic self also did it just to watch me suffer”

Chara: “What a jerk! :(”

Sans: “i hate him so fucking much”

Sans: “he doesn’t love me or papyrus, he only gives a fuck about himself. everyone below him is just a toy in his eyes”

Sans: “he’s such a piece of shit and i can’t stand living with him. he’s hurt me more than anyone could ever know”

Chara: “I know, Sans. I understand. It’s okay.”

Sans: “i’m sorry for swearing so much and the sudden rant”

Chara: “It's okay, Sans! I’m glad you got it off your chest!”

Sans: “thank you”

Chara: “No problem! <3 Love you!”

Sans: “love you too”

Chara: “Hey, I’m alone in my room right now, if you need a kiss, feel free to stop by! Just be quiet.”

}

Upon seeing that last message Sans wastes no time, and teleports himself into Chara's room. The room is dark with their face being only illuminated by the light from their phone.

Chara looks up to meet Sans' eyes, their expression quickly turns to a cordial smile, as they wave their hand toward themselves, motioning him to come closer.

Sans obeys, walking over next to them, taking note of the plush next to them (he’ll make sure to lightheartedly tease them for that later). Once within range, Sans leans in for the kiss.

Chara plants a kiss directly on his teeth, following up with a hug, “I love you, Sans” they whisper ever so quietly.

Sans leans back a bit, placing a nip on their cheek in response, “I love you too, Sweetheart.”

Author’s notes:

Yes, my Gaster is an unapologetic villain, and no, he will not change XD

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fatedevour · 2 years ago

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♢ — @bogachs asked: "thank you," he intones, taking the offered documents of prime's latest experiments off his hands. "you can be so much more cooperative than your master," he places a leisurely hand on his arm as he passes him by, leaning fowards with a mischievous smile decorating fair features as he whispers, gently, hotly, in theta's ear, "i like that about you," before nonchalantly continuing on his way. // (he saw theta's disgusted face once when he was kissing prime in front of him, so pantalone decided to be a pest)

UNPROMPTED: ALWAYS ACCEPTING

“ They’re arranged in chronological order of what has been worked on the longest to the most recent. Prime figured you’d prefer it in such a manner. “ Theta informs him, handing them over. It HAD crossed his mind to mix them up, but the last thing he needed was BOTH prime and the regrator on his case. The mere thought was a nightmare and catalyst for a potential headache.

The younger segment gives an audible snort at the comment. Master? It was only himself. Just an older segment. “ I’ve got better things to do than waste time. Sooner you have these papers, sooner i can go back to my work. “ He waves a gloved hand dismissively. It wasn’t for PANTALONE that he was being cooperative. Like the selfish man Dottore was, it was because it benefited HIM to just give the work over and be done with the banker.

The TOUCH however comes as a surprise, frowning with suspicion as red eyes dart to the seraphic hand resting before up just in time to see that APPALLING smile that spoke of nothing but irritation and trouble. GREAT. Just great. His mouth parts to snarl for him to keep his greedy hands to himself - but he only manages to get the inhale before Pantalone’s sickeningly sweet voice seeps into his ear like poisoned sugar. It’s rather COMICAL the expressions that fly across his usually clinically detached expression. Shock, disgust, befuddlement, all flashing across his face in rapid succession.

“ You- ! “ But already Pantalone was disappearing down the hallway in a sweep of grandious elegance, leaving Theta to clench his fists in scalding silence. PRIME dealt with that constantly? APPALLING. He’d seen first hand with clear disdain and disgust the way those two coiled like vipers together when they kissed like they were shared venom. Why the hell- No. Nope! He wasn’t going to think about it and give Pantalone that satisfaction. He’d rather deal with Columbina’s pestering. He had an experiment to do, that’s right.

It does not stop him from shooting one more annoyed glare before turning heel to slink back to the comfort of his labs.

#bogachs #theta really just >:V #but also just ?!?!?#pantalone you're an awful menace #prime has commentary but will he share with the class?#who knows honestly #♢ — ❛ he whom ushers in your darkest hour ❜ ( ic )#♢ — ❛ i am you and you are i and we are one ❜ ( clone verse )

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lilahisntsadanymore · 3 years ago

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Walburga comes for dinner and insults Y/n, so Regulus decides to kick his mother out.

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairing: Regulus Black x reader

Words count: 1.3k

Warnings: not proofread, Walburga being mean

(Y/w/n) - your wrong name (like any other name than yours)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Walburga's visit

Regulus' headache was almost unbearable that day, he couldn't wait until he got to finish work and go back home. Each one of the clock's ticks sounded much louder than they actually were. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the tick tock sound echoed through Regulus' head like footsteps in an empty hallway.

Unfortunately, Regulus' head wasn't empty, he had a lot on his mind. He usually did, but he seemed to get used to the pressure. The problem of the day was his mother's upcoming visit. The woman was supposed to come over to Regulus' new house and meet his new wife.

Why was this a problem? Well, the woman wasn't very fond of people like Y/n, Regulus' wife. The woman didn't even pay attention to the fact that they were barely 20 years old, it wasn't the worst part. What bothered Walburga the most was Y/n's blood status. The girl wasn't a pureblood. As much as it didn't matter to Regulus, his mother found it problematic.

Walburga Black was a difficult person to get along with and the fact that Y/n was a half blood didn't make it easier. Regulus was afraid of what his mother might say or do. He knew well that the woman was unpredictable, so he planned on being around the whole time. He could bear with the headache no matter how bad it was to keep his wife safe from his mother's mean words and possibly dangerous actions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Walburga Black was a difficult person and Y/n found out about it earlier than expected. When the doorbell rang through the house as loudly as the headache in Regulus' head, Y/n had to leave her her work unfinished. She was taking care of some paperwork for the Order, but nothing bad could happen if she left it spread all over her desk for a moment, right? She was going to open the door and dismiss any guest. It was already a problem that Regulus' mother was coming over later that day.

"Oh," Y/n's mouth slightly opened, when the sudden visitor turned out to be Walburga. The girl was visibly surprised.

The woman eyed her son's wife. "Is something wrong?"

She was tall, noticeably taller than Y/n. Just the woman's rough but at some point elegant appearance was alone enough to intimidate the girl, but the icy tone of her voice made the experience even worse.

"N-no," the girl stuttered, "I just- I didn't expect you to arrive so early. You're Reg's mother, right? Or is that a coincidence?" She had to make sure, it could have been some random woman who confused addresses. Y/n hoped for it even if the woman looked very much like Regulus. They definitely had the same sharp cheekbones and jawline, the same black curly hair.

Walburga pushed her way in, forcing Y/n to step back. "Yes. Y/w/n, is it?"

Did she do it on purpose? The girl was afraid to correct her, but she had to do it.

"Actually, it's Y/n."

"Mhm," the woman nodded her head.

When the thought of the Order papers ran through Y/n's head, she ran to her desk in the living room to hide them. The visitor looked confused when the girl came back.

Y/n chuckled nervously. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea. No sugar." As Walburga finished talking, her lips formed a thin line.

Y/n gestured for the woman to follow her to the living room and then walked to the kitchen to make a tea for the guest and a coffee for herself. She already knew a coffee is a must to bear with Regulus' mother.

The two women sat mostly in silence with little breaks for a conversation where Walburga would interrogate poor Y/n. The girl couldn't wait until Regulus came back from work, she counted minutes constantly checking the time.

"What do you do?" Another question left the older woman's mouth.

"I don't work anywhere currently," Y/n replied hesitantly but partially truthfully. She didn't have a job, a paid one, but she did tasks for the Order of the Phoenix sometimes.

"So you live off of my son's money?"

Y/n felt an invisible needle pierce her stomach. It sounded accusing. It was true, but why would Walburga have a problem with that? As if she didn't live off of her, now dead, husband's fortune.

"Excuse me?"

Walburga scoffed. "Did you marry Regulus for money? Do you think you're worthy of it?"

"I married him because I love him," Y/n tensed up, setting her cup of coffee on the table to prevent breaking it. Now she was less scared of the woman and rather prepared for a verbal fight with her. Or physical, if it was to happen.

"He loves you too...unfortunately. Another thing you're not so worthy of."

Y/n gasped quietly at the woman's offensive tone of voice. This was too much. Walburga barely knew the girl, she never cared to reach out and meet her then one day she comes over and decides to judge the situation based on her prejudices. Y/n felt really tempted to kick the woman out, but she tried to dismiss that urge. Regulus would be upset.

Just as the thought of Regulus ran through Y/n's mind, he came home. The sound of his key opening the door of the house was like a rescue to Y/n. She sighed with relief internally.

"I'm home!" Regulus announced as he was taking his coat off, still in the hallway. "We have a moment before my mother-" he cut off the sentence, because he walked into the living room.

She was there. His mother was already there. Why was she so early? Have anything happened yet? Did she say anything mean to Y/n? Of course she did, that was obvious. A mean comment was probably the first sentence Walburga spoke to Y/n.

Y/n looked at Regulus and forced a smile. "Hey, your mum is already here."

She tried, she really tried to sound nice. Despite that, Regulus knew something is wrong.

"Y/n, could you come with me to the kitchen?" He asked and Y/n nodded.

Maybe it was rude to leave the guest alone in the living room, but neither Regulus nor Y/n cared about that. The both of them already had enough of Walburga.

"Has she done anything to you?" Regulus asked, leaning on the kitchen counter. "She came earlier on purpose, she knew I'll be at work."

A sigh left Y/n's mouth. "She accused me of marrying you for your money and then said it's unfortunate that you love me."

Regulus clenched his teeth, feeling anger built up in his body. It was a bad idea to invite Walburga. She insisted on it and eventually he agreed, but he shouldn't have.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault," the boy apologized, "I shouldn't have let her visit."

"It's okay, I can take it," Y/n gently took her husband's tie between her fingers and stood on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

With that one little peck, Regulus felt anger leave his body. It was so ridiculous yet amazing how his wife could calm him down with one kiss.

Regulus put both his hands on Y/n's waist. "I'm gonna kick her out, okay?"

"What? Why? I said I can deal with her. It's just one dinner, not like she's staying for a week."

Regulus didn't reply. Instead, he lightly kissed Y/n's forehead and went to the living room.

For a moment, Y/n stood dumbfounded in the kitchen. She was pulled back to earth with the sound of closing the door. Y/n walked up to Regulus.

"You know you didn't have to do it for me." She reassured, but was internally happy he done that.

"Love, I didn't do it for you," Regulus smiled, "I'm not sure if I could take listening to her talk about how much of a bad choice you were."

"Did she say anything before she left?"

"Nothing that should matter to you, darling," he kissed Y/n, this time her lips, "my head hurts a bit, do you know what muggles say is the best for a headache?"

"Cheeky," Y/n smiled, "I think I have an idea."

Y/n grabbed Regulus' hand and began leading him upstairs to their bedroom. It was a good idea to kick Walburga out.

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders era #hogwarts #hp fanfic #marauders #hp fandom #regulus black fanfic #Regulus Black #regulus black imagine #Regulus Black x reader

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yandere-toons · 3 years ago

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I love inside job!! Could you do romantic yandere headcanons for Reagan? I feel like if she found someone she really liked, it wouldn't take much for her to go yandere lol

Yandere Reagan Ridley (Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Cyberstalking, Mentions of Incarceration & Death, Psychological Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.

Scarcely a thing that Reagan does is not first deliberated and tested, mentally or physically, with the scientific method. In private, where presumably no one can listen to or see her, she rehearses a multitude of conversations that she either wishes or expects to have with her partner in the future. The risk of allowing her excitement to get ahead of her mid-sentence and blurting something that upsets them is too great for the scientist to ignore.

When it comes time to apply what she practiced, Reagan is at a loss for how to approach them and hold a meaningful conversation that furthers the relationship. As a result, early interactions with her tend to be stilted and disorganized, with the scientist either creating an abrupt excuse to leave or falling into an awkward silence until her partner or another colleague ends it.

Reagan wants her partner to have a favourable opinion of her, but thanks to workaholic and perfectionist tendencies fueled by years of neglectful and manipulative treatment at the hands of her parents, her social skills are abysmal. Nevertheless, the scientist is, no matter how much she likes to deny it, desperate for their validation and seeks to attain it through the only mode she understands, her inventions.

Once she becomes more assertive, Reagan does not shed her prickly nature. The conversations that she initiates are dominated by explanations and, at times, demonstrations of her latest creations in hopes that her scientific prowess will gain their respect. A dismissive, or not sufficiently encouraging, attitude towards her accomplishments reminds her of her father, and it is the quickest way to inspire vengeful frustration in the scientist.

Noticing his best work friend's distress, Brett Hand offers to roleplay as her partner to help her grow more comfortable with speaking to them. Reagan opposes the idea of making herself so vulnerable to criticism and making Brett privy to such personal information. She rejects any direct assistance but occasionally asks for his opinion on the effectiveness of a method, and Brett supports what he believes to be a mutual relationship.

Reagan was neither taught nor properly learned how to manage the majority of her emotions in ways that are not self-destructive. Anger leads to brainstorming sessions about framing a murder as an accident, and sadness leads to binge eating and not leaving the couch for days. Envy, such as when her partner voices admiration for the feats of others, is an overwhelming experience that Reagan struggles to process.

The scientist's go-to coping mechanism is marking the offender for an extraction team, thereby condemning them to lifelong imprisonment at a shadow government black site. If the offender is an executive or a close colleague, however, Reagan concedes that they have a certain degree of immunity and settles for acting passive-aggressive and, assuming she can legally get away with it, exceptionally rude.

An unwilling ear is lent in the form of ROBOTUS, who is subjected to rants about failed attempts or people Reagen views as competition. The genocidal robot is apathetic to his creator's troubles and tunes out after a while, but he is inclined to hack into a perceived rival's private files and compromise the integrity of her partner's social media if she baits him with more of the television series Friends.

Reagan develops a profile of her partner, one that is constantly broadening as additional facts and theories are added. Government surveillance and online tracking are exploited to research every action, every piece of information they ever shared with the internet. Analyzing their digital footprint is, to her tech-savvy and borderline paranoid mind, the key to melding their preferences with hers and bonding with them most swiftly and proficiently.

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myfeetkeepdancing · 3 years ago

Text

"What crawled up his ass and died?" - Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

"What crawled up his ass and died?" Muller asked you in a lowered voice, leaning towards you. Keeping his eye on Arvin sitting opposite of him across the fire. Normally you join him in laughter. Cracking a few jokes and one-liners. But you're not in for it right now.

"Why should I know?" You shrug with a dismissive snarl. Staring back into the fire. Watching it spit and crackle as the fatty juices from the animal's carcasses dripped into the fire. You couldn't recognize what it was anymore. And that may have been for the better. Smith had caught them and wouldn't tell. It didn't matter. They provided plenty of meat on the bones, and the aromas were absolutely water mouthing.

"Gheez…" Muller pulled back. "If you weren't ladies I'd say you were on your periods." Pointing you and Arvin out. You weren't in the mood for this kind of talk. Your mind was still occupied by the last couple of hours. How quickly things turn around on a battlefield. One moment you have an advantage. The other, you blow it and are vastly outnumbered. You struggled with the thoughts and your actions. You keep replaying them in your head. Over and over again.

What could you have done differently?

It affected you, weighed you down. So did the others. But in a different way. It all felt off. Like a bit of spirit had left the group. The eyes, each one of them, glazed over. Killing left a mark on the soul. It changed people. It naturally reflected on the mood. It's different from the night before. But they tried to show it as little as possible. Also, for they didn't have this massive guilt hovering over them. They were just glad to be alive. Again.

"Smells good." Brooks said, licking his lips. Breaking a long silence again.

"Better than our rations, eh." Smith chuckled as he began cutting the first strips of meat. "Here lads, this will do you good." You sat with a small group. Veterans in the field. Smith, Brooks, Muller, Kronig, and Russell. You've been through hell and back with them.

Smith was the hunter and cook. He knows his way in nature. Finds the tastiest things in the barest of places. A true optimist as well. Some would say out of place in an environment like this. But his experience in hunting attributed too many of the successes of your group.

Brooks, on the other hand, is a man of steel nerves. Always calm and rational. But cold and distant. A real soldier. Born to lead. And kill. More or less the leader of the group.

Muller is the all-rounder. A man with a keen eye. Great senses. Skilled with the knife. And sharp-witted. Good at everything. A true team player.

And then there's Kronig. A small annoying figure. Constantly snapping at everything and everyone. Especially you. Today was not an exception. He'd always mock you. Ridicule you. No matter what everyone said. It still happened.

The last one was Russell. A quiet one. But with a knack for killing, suiting himself on the battlefield. Afterwards he often stayed to the shadows. Hanging back. Not much of a team player. Occasionally the light caught his eye, and they flashed with captured fire. A fury. An anger. It gave you chills. Not the good ones.

But once in a while, you exchanged some words. Got to know him. First name was Arvin. Something along the way had grown. Something more than camaraderie. You often found yourself beside him on the battlefield. Looking out for each other. A reassuring person to have your side.

"You did well, Smith." Said Brooks after the first bite. "Tastes good." Stretching his injured leg. Hissing through his teeth as he eased into another position. The wooden log he sat on didn't help the old dog much. If it hurt, he wouldn't want to show it. That's what stubborn old veterans do. Even if it bleeds.

That thought alone. You couldn't look him in the eye. Knowing the injury happened because of you. Guilt weight heavy on your shoulders. Taking your mood with you. Worst of all. The bastard Kronig sat beside you. His looks said enough.

The strip of meat was gone the moment it was dealt to you. It happened in a flash. You sigh out of frustration. Knowing full well who it was. Accepting your fate as is.

"After that incident... you don't deserve it." Kronig spat into your ear. Slurping the fat layer of meat into his mouth. Some other words mumbled from his lips. But you pretend to not hear it.

"Leave it…" Muller pleaded. He looked forward to an evening of quiet, simple pleasures and good food. Leaving the horrors of war behind for a moment. Enjoying the company as it was. "Give (Y/N) a slice." He waved to Smith feeling sorry. But Smith watched. Waited. His glance shot across the group.

"Why?!" Kronig turned on Muller. "The idiot could have us all killed."

"Everyone makes mistakes." Brooks corrected him. For a moment, there was silence. As Kronig and Brooks stared at each other from across the fire. You sit there caught in between. You can't help but roll your eyes to the floor. Watching the gritty earth. If it wasn't for your comrades, your cold dead body would have joined the mud.

And Kronig was sure to pour a hefty load of salt into that wound. "Mistakes that get us all killed someday." He got onto his feet. Turning to you. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have set off the trap. A trap THEY didn't even set!" He bellowed over the fire. From the corner of your eye, you see the other group besides the fire look over. They knew. But Kronig was really starting to make a scene of it. You weren't sure if your body could bear so much shame. You feel the eyes of the many around peer into your back. The sting of judgment.

"He was just unlucky." Muller shook his head. "You know, it could very well have been you." He tried to rationalize.

"No!" Kronig continued. "Because of his stupidity and clumsiness we lost all the advantages we worked so hard on... for a week!" Like a preacher, he stood there. Spitting doom and gloom over those willing to listen. And this time, he had ears aplenty.

"Because you don't like him-..." Brooks's sentence was cut short by an outrage of Kronig.

"He compromised an entire company!" Waving around to the other campfire around. Showing the tenfold of other soldiers. "At what cost?!" He reasoned. "We're fucking lucky to get out like this." Watching the group's injuries. Noone escaped unscathed. Bandages were in use by everyone, for the physical injuries. The mental ones would never heal. Except with the help of a bottle of strong alcohol. "You never should have come here." Kronig growled in your direction as he seated himself again. Feeling he has said his thing. Vented his anger and frustration.

As awkward as the situation was. The truth was out there. And no one seemed to know how to get the tension out of the air. You look up at the rest. But all you get are cold, hollow, narrowed eyes staring into the fire. You were lucky indeed. But a statement was made. An already made wound made bigger. A seed of distrust and disdain was planted. Alienating you from the group. It's only a matter of time before a knife would find its way in-between your ribs. But not by the enemy. The world closed in on itself around you. Only you remained.

"He showed more bravery than some." Arvin said, staring into the dark as he munched on the last of his strip of meat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kronig reacted angrily as he shot Arvin a mean look. Baring his teeth.

Arvin looked up and turned his head slowly and calmly towards Kronig. "It means that I saw you, more than once, hiding in the shadows, keeping your head down. Weapon not at the ready."

"I'm no coward." He spat furiously and shot up to his feet, his hand reaching underneath the folds of his tunic. Arvin fixed a stony glare at him. Unmoved by Kronig's prance of intimidation.

Brooks gripped the forearm, trying to calm the situation. Prevent any escalation with weapons. "I outmaneuver…" Jerking his arm free from the tight grip of Brooks. His hand free out of the folds. "It's a tactic you know."

"That kind of outmaneuvering is called… cowardice." Arvin said with a hint of ridicule in his voice. "Not a tactic. Ask any soldier here." Arvin nodded his head to the soldiers at another fire. "Go ahead. You'll be disappointed… in yourself."

Kronig snorted, backing down a little as he knew Arvin was baiting him into a fight. Prancing a few steps back and forth. Left and right. Gritting his teeth. Kronig was quick-witted. But this time, he seemed to fall short of a few words.

"You're going to let that slide, Kronig?" Provoked one of the soldiers from the company that was listening in on the commotion. The crackle of fires around were a prelude to what was coming. The tension hanging thick in the air. You somehow expect Kronig to jump you at any given moment. If his words fell short, violence was his answer. But you knew, with Arvin, that was a mistake.

Everyone saw the anger boiling in Kronig's eyes. The balled fist. Knuckles bare white as he clenched them hard. But the words were exchanged faster than he could intervene. At least no weapons were used as Kronig stepped menacingly towards Arvin.

"Don't disappoint me, son…" Arvin smirked as he rolled up his sleeves and took to his feet. The distance between them was almost nothing. Even in this pitch-black dark, they could see the white of each other's eyes. And it was closing fast. Since Kronig had problems with his dad. More or less the entirety of his family. Any remark regarding parents or, for that matter, was a guaranteed spark. And that on an already very, very short fuse.

"You fuc-..." The cry of war turned into a howl of agony. Arvin lunged forward and punched hard into his guts. Kronig doubled over and heaved up his straps of meat. Including yours too probably. Backing up, he raised a hand. "B…B-Basterd!" He managed through hard breaths. "I… wasn't ready."

"I was." replied Arvin and swung again. Kronig saw it coming. He had just enough time to drop his shoulder and take the blow on his back. Arvin responded with another hook from his left. But his balance was shifted. And Kronig knew. Like a snake, he smiled thinly and darted upwards. Taking advantage of the sloppy punch.

He struck Arvin on the chest. Sending him reeling on his feet. To further his advantage, Kronig rained another blow on him, this time to the side of his face. It struck hard. And Arvin backed up. Creating space between the two. Shaking his head, Arvin tried to clear his mind. As fast as the punches had landed, no one was trying to stop it. Everyone sat in silence, staring at the evolving brawl. "Not so big now, eh…" Kronig goaded.

Arvin didn't reply. He spat a phlegm of blood to the ground. And grinned. He enjoyed the thrill of a fight. Any excuse for violence, he took it.

Filled with overconfidence, Kronig moved forward, feinting a blow to Arvin's guard, while throwing a strong kick against his injured leg. An injury from today's disastrous campaign.

Your fault.

Arvin winced in pain and buckled on one knee. This pain shot across his face. Glaring up at Kronig with the fire of hatred in his eyes. Some were held back as they found it time to intervene. But were stopped by others.

"Aiming for… w-weak spots." Arvin sputtered and chuckled devilishly to himself. "What a tactic."

"You got a lot to learn." Kronig growled as he threw an overhand, meant to finish the job. It all happened in slow motion. Arvin saw it coming. He was ready. He ducked with speed unmatched. Dodging the blow with ease, creating an opening for which to strike hard, and without mercy.

Kronig realized within a heartbeat. Seeing the coiled-up force behind Arvin's incoming punch. His eyes grew big as his blow went wide. Arvin's arm crashes forward and sends an uppercut into Kronig's stomach. Before the man collapsed to the floor, he jabbed his fist into his ribs. Not to break them. But to send a message. The air spills from his lungs. And with a wince and a gasp, Kronig crumples to the ground. As he bent over, coughing and wheezing, spewing up his empty guts, Arvin smashed his elbow into his back, flooring him.

He stood over Kronig, puking, crumpled form. No sign of pain or anything. Arvin leaned forward, pulling him up by his collar. Whispering into this ear. "Let's not have this conversation again, little shit. Because next time... I will break something." And yanks Kronig onto his feet. Pulling on Kronig's hair so he faces you. His eyes never meet yours. But fear is riddled in his face. "Leave.him.alone." Arvin spat one final warning as blood and tears ran freely down Kronig's face. Nodding in agreement without being asked.

"Now, get him some food." Arvin commanded him, giving him a slight push towards the fire. Kronig looked frail and weak. Sobbing softly. "Your rations." Arvin reminded him. A nod followed, and he stumbled away. Fishing the rations from his bag. Like a submissive creature, he put them at your feet and quickly scurried away. Limping. Off in the encampment. Alone. Licking his wounds.

Arvin turned around without a word. Checked to see if Kronig hadn't returned. Now that the coast was cleared. He vanished into the darkness. Probably licking his wounds. Or celebrate the thrill of victory.

The remainder of the group sat in silence. Exchanging glances at each other. "Serves him right." Muller said with a relieved sigh.

"Yeah. Prick..." Smith tended to the meat still hanging above the fire. "Here." Handing you a thick slice. "You won't be troubled by him anymore."

"I'm not so sure if I'm able to safely close an eye with him around at night…" You contemplate. Still taking time to process what had happened. "You never know with Kronig."

"With Russell around-..." Brooks sniffled. "I'm sure he'll think twice… or thrice."

x-x-x-x-x

The remainder of the evening went by with relative ease. Most tents had been set up throughout the encampment, making navigating a tad bit more difficult in the dark. You remembered the direction Arvin went, but actually finding him was a new adventure on its own. The worst-case scenarios linger in your brain as you pass by several groups of tents. Here and there are a few soldiers playing cards, others just staring aimlessly in the campfires. You weren't the only one that sleep eluded it seems. The edges of the encampment were defined by torches. They moved and swayed in the darkness by the soldiers that stood guard. One of them pointed you in the right direction. A clearing further towards the stream.

"It's me." You announce with your hands up and beside you. The sound of a knife being unsheathed was distinct over the relative quiet of the forest, especially at this time of night. Your heart stops at the glint of steel reflected in the moonlight. As Arvin turns in his spot, a dagger is held high above his head. Ready to throw at whatever came too close uninvited. "The guard pointed me in this direction."

"You okay?" Arvin asked as you came closer. Your eyes had to adjust as well to the darkness, with the moonlight slowly beginning to help you. Arvin sat on a big fallen tree on the edge of a clearing. At day the horizon was filled with countless stacks of smoke. As far as the eye could see. You could almost smell it. Destruction everywhere. Now the sky was the color of death itself. No smoke stack could rival it. Stars sprinkled on a dark canvas. Each star representing a fallen soldier. As far as the eye could see. At least that's what they told you. "I heard you limping on your left leg." He told you while sheathing his dagger.

"I'm fine." Dismissing his further interest as you're taken aback by Arvin's keen senses. From a distance, you'd seen him seated. Observed for a moment. Not only to figure out the right words for yourself. But also find out what he's really doing here. Arvin spent so much time alone. You never understood why. "I should be asking that question to you." Taking place beside him. "How's the leg?"

"It's nothing." And sets a bottle to his lips. The moonlight not helping you in telling what the content is. Without a word, he offers you a sip. His glance is short, and you manage a brief glimpse of his face. His eyes. They are soft. Kinder than before. But he's hiding something. You can tell.

"Are you sure?" You ask, trying to read him again as the offered bottle was held aloft towards you. "I don't know. I think this should be the other way around." Accepting the drink with a bit of hesitance as you swirl the contents left and right through the bottle. The smell caught you before you could discern the origin. It's pungent and bitter. The hairs in your nose seem to curl in on themselves as it assaults your senses.

"Drink." Arvin demanded. "Helps you sleep. And with the pain."

You wanted to argue about the points he made, but the long-lost memory of a proper intoxicated sleep persuaded you. With a good swig, the contents begin to burn down your throat. It's strong. And heavy. It's nothing like you drank ever before. The aromas are inconsequential to the large percentages of alcohol. It's numbing. And it hammers into your system. Warming your innards while blinking away the sudden blurred edges in your vision. But it's what you need after a day like this.

"Thank you, Arvin. Thank you for today." The words slip from your tongue without any further thought. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here." You're not sure if it's the moonlight or the alcohol, but you seem to detect a sly smile on his face. Small but honest. It was there. "I owe you." Handing him back the bottle.

"Sometimes you gotta… right the wrong." Arvin preached wisely, and poured himself another shot down his throat. Even he had to hold himself as he jolted in his spot from the alcohol. You try to blink away the drowsiness falling over you as your eyes cloud for a moment. "Do me a favor." He glances at you, muttering his words with regained effort. Clearly struggling. "Stay alive out there..." And the smile you thought to be an illusion became a reality. "Stay alive for me." The words sounded labored and...

Did you see that right?

"Your hand." You mumbled. "You've got... blood… on your hands." The crimson red on his fingers stood out more and more. Smears of it left on the bottle stained your fingers.

"We all do." He said in a gravely sickening voice. And swung his head back, the bottle up, and down the alcohol went his throat. The truth was in his words. No denying. But something felt off. A moment of clarity hit you. His posture. You notice the stifled groan in the movement. The way he hunched a little—the stiffening of his jaw. Shaking hands and narrow slit of eyes.

"You're hurt."

"No shit." He cracked out as he finished gulping down a large portion of the bottle. Slamming it down beside him. Gasping for air as he burped and shuddered. Shielding his mouth for a moment. "F-…Fuck…" His fingers curled around the bottle shook, struggling to hold on. Fresh, vibrant blood glistens on his flesh. Dripping. Pooling.

Raising yourself on your feet forced a small protesting grunt from Arvin. Posing his other hand in-between. Coated crimson red in blood. Glistening. "Fuc-..." You wanted to growl at Arvin, but were stopped as his figure suddenly slumped forward. Catching him in your arms, a warm and wet patch of his tunic clings to you. Warm blood ruining your hands. Perching his weakened form against the trunk of the tree gives time and space to assess. His face looked awfully paler than before. Eyes glazing over. How didn't you notice? "Arvin!" You call out. Patting his cheek, urging him to stay alive." Stay with me!"

His body felt cold, and with little strength he had left, he lifted his shirt and tunic. "That blow…" His breath was labored and heavy. "That last blow tore open… an old wound."

"A fucking deep one too." Everything was red. Blood everywhere. Flesh clearly showed as the gash was opened slightly. A few inches perhaps, but enough to make any man bleed. It's a miracle he's still alive. Any help of the sorts was far away. And after all, you've seen enough wounds on the battlefield to know your way around. So, you make the best of it. You tried getting his shirt and tunic off, but his slumped position didn't help. "Now, work with me, Arvin." You urged him on with a smack against his cheek. "C'mon!"

With some sense slapped into him, you manage to reveal his muscled torso. Littered with minor cuts and bruises. "And I thought you never got hit." You joked as Arvin eyed you sheepishly.

"I'm riddled with old wounds." He chuckled to himself as he rested his head against the tree. Turning his eyes to the stars. "Soon, I'll be one of them."

"Put some trust in me, old friend." Smacking him against the head as he peered aimlessly into the sky. Dabbing a clean piece of cloth in the alcohol, you start cleaning the wound. The contact of alcohol on his flesh wound brought life back into him. Arvin shook and recoiled, hissing as your work continued. "You're not dying on me here."

"Friend." He reiterated with a cynical tone to his voice. An odd smile crept on his face. Every soldier's kit was equipped with medical bits and bobs. Arvin never took his off. His belt still held all the gear he wore into battle. Never allowing himself a moment respite. Always on the alert for danger. Always ready. "What more is there then… camaraderie… and friendship?" He hissed in and bit down on the pain. He seemed more invigorated than before. His breathing quickened a little, and the blood seeped slower than expected.

"I don't know." Pushing his shoulder against the truck. "Sit still." You order and brace him. "This is going to hurt."

He scoffed and snickered in himself as you unbuckled his belt. "Happy ending after all." Arvin's intentions stray further from yours as you eye each other while rummaging through his kit. A tense staredown followed. It's hard to take any meaning from his words, especially since you find yourself ready with a crude needle and some thread. His bare chest, muscles, and muscular frame heaved heavily. Faster and faster. This bewildered look did him good. You find yourself admitting it. Almost aloud.

"Bite down on this." And shove a rolled-up piece of clean torn-up tunic into his mouth. "And sit…still..."

And excruciating pain sounded from Arvin as you began a terrible job of sowing the wound shut. A bit of cold water from the stream together with the alcohol helped it stay clean as much as possible. Stitching back and forth, up and down. The wound closed relatively fast as you worked your way around. The result looked decent. Blood dripped only marginally from the wound. Arvin, clearly dosed by the many ounces of alcohol in his system, stayed conscious for the entire duration. He even looked on. Helping you keep the skin in place. Growling at the best of times. He's been through worse, you reckon.

"You'll make it." Patting his chest as you notice the relief on his face. "I'll get some bandages and help you-"

"No…" He groaned and helped himself a bit more upright. "Makeshift one from my tunic." Your eyes meet. You're clearly not agreeing with whatever argument he's going to throw at you. But start ripping his tunic in long strips. Whether Arvin was staying or going, he needed a bandage.

"Keep the pressure on here." You order him after the first layer. Tiny reds beads of blood immediately started showing. "And don't move." From the remaining scraps, you produce one lengthy, using that to tie everything together. Arvin felt warm to the touch. You can't help but take in all the cuts. Old and newer wounds. It's as if the moonlight played with it all. A spectacle of cuts and shadows falling over his muscles. Leaving you a bit uneasy. Staring at times.

"I can't go back." Arvin said. "Not like this."

"You have to." Pausing for a moment, thinking of a reasonable argument to persuade him to return. Problem-solving wasn't that hard of a task. But convincing someone of that idea is something else. Kneeled in front of Arvin, there was a certain tension in the air. It was late. Only the light of the moon illuminated the world. The torches and campfires of the encampment were long out of sight.

"Sometime… Yes." He nodded. "But I have some of Kronig's rations here." Pulling a satchel from out of the dark. "Let's make a fire, eat well, rest…"

"The fire will attract-… You're going to get cold." You heard yourself but knew all those things could be solved. And easily. "If they'll find us-…"

"Then I have the scars to prove we were ambushed." A smile crept on his face as he sat himself back against the tree. He knew he had won you over. Deep down, you already had from the start. And what more could you ask for. Good company and food. Quiet and peace. In the moment you might get used to it.

And so, a fire was made going. Warming the cold, worn, and tired limbs. You find yourself beside Arvin, shoulder to shoulder. A makeshift blanket covered both of you. A word of kindness may have slipped from Arvin's lips as he rested his head on your shoulder before falling into a long slumber. But it may have been your imagination.

The fire crackled and spit solemnly in the night. Shining like a star on the blackest of horizons. Instead of the many lonely, lost souls ripped from this world. This star rekindled two.

#arvin russell x male!reader #arvin russell x male reader #arvin russell #arvin russell tom holland #male reader #mlm #mlm love

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years ago

Text

Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before.

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind.

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I?

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone.

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.”

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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anniebrainrots · 3 years ago

Text

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past.

=============

warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n

wc: 3.2k

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,)

===========

You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin.

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off.

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it.

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him.

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back.

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come.

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him.

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it.

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else.

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations. It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out.

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?”

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?”

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him.

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night.

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed.

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could.

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age.

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?”

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.”

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort.

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time.

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months.

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies.

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed.

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused.

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had.

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks.

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down.

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages.

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace.

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent.

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?”

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.”

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind.

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory.

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.”

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—”

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?”

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?”

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’.

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother.

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.”

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep.

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment.

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.”

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops.

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil.

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him.

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse.

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks.

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person.

“I know.”

#techno x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #c!techno #dream smp techno #sbi family dynamic #sleepy bois x reader #sbi x reader #technoblade

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Note

"How many times can you look me in the eye and lie to me?" Also with Ernest, break my heart please 💔, I need like angry and broken Ernest

“How many times can you look at me in the eye and lie to me” - with Ernst Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: masturbation, mention of attempted murder

I wasn't ready to write this and when I was, I still wasn't.

Ernst smiled at you, he just woke up to find you laying beside him like very morning, his little corner of paradise, your silky nightgown clinging sensually around your shape, that amazing curve of your body always getting him more and more turned on.

“Good morning, Ernst”

You said to him and he smiled happily whispering it back to you.

“Oh, looks like Dr Schmidt is more awake than you”

The way you giggled and nicknamed his dick would have made him blush if he wasn’t so aroused by your presence.

“Get naked for me, I don’t have time”

You pouted but then you obliged as you stood on the bed slowly giving him a strip tease, you even hummed the music waving your body in front of him.

Your voice only rang through him, the way you sang was pure poetry.

You swayed from side to side as the silk slipped off your skin like water, you picked a moan as you touched over your body as he pumped himself nicely.

“Fuck, show me your ass”

He cursed as he went immediately hard on himself, he was hungry, needy for you and yet he didn’t have time to fully give into the pleasure.

You obeyed, you rolled your hips turning around as your panties made their way down your ass and quickly precipitated to your ankles before being kicked out of the way.

The way your hands moved, the moans that escaped you as your hands travelled between your legs gifting pleasure to yourself.

Ernst was thrown into a very fast orgasm against his own stomach while staring at you.

“Your breakfast is ready now”

You smirked as he chuckled “I hope not this one” he said pointing at his chest as you giggled jumping off the bed.

“I need the calculation for this”

You nodded providing him the answer in a moment, you worked side to side and you were his right arm, always helping him.

“So? How long is it going to take freak?”

Volkov voice made you roll your eyes.

He annoyed you like hell, but he really took a tool on Ernst.

Don’t let him get into you

You typed it on the computer for Ernest to see. He now needed to be focusing on the task ahead instead of the teasing, he pushed his glasses further on the bridge of his nose as he looked up at the screen ignoring the Russian.

Thank you he typed back to you

;) your answer

Nevertheless, the experiments kept failing and you kept working tirelessly with him. Where it was the error? What could it be?

“Ernst, I brought you something to eat” Lin said as she came to the control room and stared up at you for a moment, you leaned your head on side, you glared at her but smiled, it wasn’t even polite as a smile, it was just circumstantial.

“Don’t worry, I don’t need it”

You said it quite harshly earning a look from Ernst that made you turn around and go back to your calculations.

“Forgive her” Ernst said for you and Lin shrugged “I am worried for you” she whispered to him “you’re getting too much into this, it is not healthy, do not listen to Volkov but I need you to be awake and ready more than anyone, you’re our only physic here”

He chuckled lightly “the one who could survive here among you crazy heads” he joked as you looked back at them interacting and frowned lightly.

That evening he was applying some cream to ease the bruise Volkov left on his face after last experiment.

“That man should have been checked, with such a temper he shouldn’t be allowed on the mission” you mumbled as you stared at him while programming the dinner on the big screen to be delivered. Usually you would fetch it but the beating accident pushed Ernst to be asked to go to his rooms earlier than usual.

“I know, but I gave him his fair share and it is good like this. We are all stressed on board, Lin taught me this word which means actually stressed because of the pressure due on the mind, I need to ask her again about it”

“You like her, don’t you?”

You asked it like a firing shot, he rolled his eyes “please, not again with it”

You frowned as he dismissed always that topic but you hated it.

“You think she is more attractive than me?”

“That is not possible” he just said and you looked down at your floral shorts and top coord pyjama.

You looked back at the screen as you downloaded the exercises he had been prescribed before leaving the Earth to keep his back and neck healthy after so many hours on the computer.

“Would you fuck her?”

He glared at you “I said it is a closed topic”

You sighed nodding lightly, you nibbled your bottom lip but just carried on with the evening.

It was like an accident, Volkov was checking the oxygen reserve as always when he started to feel dizzy. He frowned as soon as he realised he rushed to the door. There was a leak. But when he rushed to the door it was locked and not even the code worked to open it.

He really thought it was the end but Lin saw him and with the help of Kiel managed to get him out of there.

Volkov didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night.

But Ernst knew perfectly who he had to talk to.

When he came to his quarters and locked the door you were wearing a nice deep blue dress, one of his favourites with off shoulders and a tight skirt, the dinner was ready for him to eat and some soft music playing in the background.

“You’re out of your mind”

He only said that and you looked at him confused “What? Why? Don’t you like salmon?”

“Don’t you play innocent with me Y/N, I saw the codes, you hacked the door, a clean job but you should know I can find your ID print anywhere, even behind the electricity system”

You frowned “I probably messed up, what door got blocked?”

He laughed out loud smacking his hand loudly over his forehead “How can you even be such a liar? Killing Volkov won’t solve anything”

You frowned as he spoke like that “He beat you Ernst”

You said it finally after a long silence “he handles you in that way and punches you and threatens you constantly, I can’t see him do this for more years”

“Killing him is not the solution”

“I was just trying to protect you!!” You screamed to him.

He stood straight in front of you, cringe colouring his features as you stared at him helplessly.

“What do you even know about protection? You’re not even -“

“I love you, that’s what I know”

He looked at you as you said that, the disgust on him turned to pain and then to rage.

“Take it back”

“No”

“I said” he came closer to you, his voice tone lowering “Take it back, now”

You shook your head as you felt tears forming in your eyes, your chest starting to hiccup as you tried to hold back the fear and the sadness of his reaction.

You daydreamed so much of him telling you that little ‘I love you too’.

And yet, here you’re.

“Ernst”

“No, no Ernst, this is over”

You paled up as he moved past you taking his tablet.

“Ernst, but it is true, I love you, I swear, it is love” you said, your voice trembling as your tears started to roll down your cheeks “Every day, you’re my only thought, you’re what I live for, I live to see you smile at me, to see you happy, to see that little quirky smirk you do when all the analysis work. The way you look at me when we are alone, the way you smile at me, share things with me. That’s all I wish for. Please. Please Ernst. You have to believe me”

“Liar.” His answer was dry, filled with anger and disgust, his eyes not even gracing you.

“I am not lying, I can’t lie to you. Ernst. I beg you, talk to me”

“How many times can you look at me in the eye and lie to me??” He shouted at the top of his lungs taking his dinner plate with his free hand and smashing it on the wall in front of him.

“Ernst” yours was a whisper, his name your only reason to live left as fear was now dominating you “please”

He glared at you, jaw clenched, hand locked into fists so tight that his knuckles were white.

He pressed something on the tablet that he still clenched on his side and on the big screen in the room that usually projected a night skyline for dinner appeared a red notification:

Are you sure you want to interrupt the hologram?

Yes - No

You stared at the screen as you closed your eyes, tears rolling even more down your cheeks.

“I love you Ernst”

“You’re not supposed to love, Y/N” his voice betraying the pain simmering after that mask of rage you know too well by now.

The tap of his finger on the tablet screen the last thing you heard before being caged back into your code.

#ernst schmidt x y/n #ernst schmidt fanfiction #ernst schmidt #ernst schmidt x reader #ernst schmidt x you #ernst schmidt smut #ernst schmidt imagine #Cloverfield paradox fanfiction #ernst Schmidt angst #daniel brühl #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl

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rubykgrant · 3 years ago

Text

Carolina doesn’t listen… because it doesn’t just “hit too close to home”, it is a bulls-eye. This is EXACTLY what HE did (her father). He watched HER final message (her mother), over and over and over again. Almost constantly. When he wasn’t literally replaying it, it was still on repeat in his mind. Carolina can’t do this. She won’t. She REFUSES.

This message was mostly likely just a copy of the original, one to watch again of somebody wanted to… she does NOT want to. Church should have KNOWN that. He had gotten very close to her during the time they spent together. It had been a rocky start, certainly… Carolina had been in no mood for making new friends or mending old connections on that mission to track down the Director. Mood aside, she was out of practice. In her years of hiding, she had avoided any close relationships. Casual acquaintances was pushing it. She kept a low profile. A cold demeanor. It suited her purposes, and had worked just fine… then all THIS happened; Wash, the absolutely irrational group of Sim Troopers, and Church.

Unlike the others, she never knew the Alpha AI, who had clung to her father's name, using it as his own, yet being a totally different person. She had never even met Alpha in Project Freelancer. When the Director acted dismissive and disinterested toward Carolina, she assumed it was an effort to remain professional. He didn't want to show her favoritism, or make it seem like she had become part of the program thanks to nepotism. Most people didn't even know his real name, and nobody there had known hers (which was a security precaution, in general).

She never expected special treatment... but secretly, she had hoped for it. She hoped he would eventually praise her, confide in her, and allow her to confide in him. Instead, he kept his secrets, even the ones that personally concerned her. Carolina briefly had two AI implanted, Eta and Iota... the experience hadn't been pleasant, but who's fault was that? Even though she had seen, occasionally spoken to, the AI of other Freelancers, Carolina didn't now them well. Ironically, she spent the most time with Beta, who was actually Tex. Carolina never knew Epsilon during Project Freelancer, either.

She met the Memory AI on her mission to kill the Director. He wasn't at all what she expected.

Church was just as stubborn as her, and a loud-mouth on top of that. She could scream at him, threaten him, or try to ignore him… he still wouldn’t shut up. The most annoying part was, sometimes it was nice listening to him. He also kept tricking her into having a conversation when she had resolved to shut him out; he’d either continue pushing her buttons until she finally snapped at him, or he’d say something that was so stupid it surprised a laugh out of her. Once he knew how to do that, Church became even MORE annoying. When she realized keeping quiet wasn’t the right way to deal with Church (he just filled the silence with his own voice), Carolina would talk back.

They talked about a lot of things, and to be fair, Church was kind enough to leave certain subjects alone… or at least, he didn’t force her to keep re-opening old wounds that still hurt. Instead, he had basically tricked her into talking again; he’d say something regarding one of his own memories, and it would prompt a response from her. He was a jerk like that, either making her mad or making her laugh when she didn’t want to do either… until she eventually DID want to talk to him, and say something to make HIM laugh, and share a memory of her own. She got to know him very well too, and then one day Carolina realized… they trusted each other, and they liked each other. This was an actual friendship. This was the closest thing she had to “family” in… a long time. In a sad way, this was a better family connection than she had EVER experienced.

Church KNEW how she felt about them; her father and her mother. He KNEW that. They had talked about it, and he had BEEN THERE. Church was right with her when they had found the Director, her father, the man that had “created” them both. Carolina had wanted to kill him, and so had Church. He hurt them both, as well as countless others. He had destroyed so many lives.

When Carolina saw him in the end, she couldn’t do it… he was already broken, ready to give up. She couldn’t “forgive” her father for what he’d done… but she could let go of hating him. He couldn’t let go. That was what REALLY killed him. She saw it in his eyes; he finally realized he’ll never get what he wants, and now he sees no point in staying alive. Carolina wasn’t going to kill him, not now… but she wasn’t going to stop him either.

Why hadn’t she been good enough? They BOTH lost Allison, Carolina had lost her mother, he had lost his wife… but he still had a daughter. She SHOULD have still had her father. He didn’t care about her. Not enough. Not in a way that really mattered. Why not? For a long time, Carolina had thought there was something wrong with HER… a small child, thinking she had to somehow prove that she deserved to be loved. A teenager, and then a young woman, pushing herself beyond her limits, just to feel like she mattered. She had to be the BEST.

It was like she had tunnel-vision, only able to focus on ONE thing, and not see the world around her. Obsession. When you have a family history of a problem, you had to be careful. You might not always develop the same problem, but there was a chance. Carolina had truly followed in her fathers foot-steps for a while… so focused and selfish… she had to stop. She had to let go of it, for herself, and everybody else who would ever be around her. She had to change. Church knew that, and even helped her change. Carolina knew why; he had to change, too. There had been things he needed to let go of. The two of them, they had helped each other. Because they actually CARED. That was what you were supposed to do, that was how... a family was supposed to act.

He had known her very well… so why… WHY had Church done THIS? Give up his life, and leave behind a message… Church had somehow combined both of the most painful memories of her parents into ONE. When the message played the first time, Carolina cried. She didn’t try to hide it, either (despite spending many years acting like she didn't need to cry). Oh, crying HURT... she had almost forgotten how uncomfortable it was. Her eyes stung, her nose started running, and she sounded like a kid bawling over a skinned knee when they fell off a bicycle. She’s been through pain before, emotional and physical… this shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. It hurts.

Carolina doesn’t talk about this, because even that will remind her too much of Church. He’s not here to annoy her, argue with her, or trick her into laughing. She’s just angry. Angry at him for leaving, angry at herself for not being good enough, angry at the others for letting him do this. She can’t talk to anybody, and she won’t watch this other message. She REFUSES.

#red vs blue #rvb fic #agent carolina

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