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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

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Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders.

"...Y/N."

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly.

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby."

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you."

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship.

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement.

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was.

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy.

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere.

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today.

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again.

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer.

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter.

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded.

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her.

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return.

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke.

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life.

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit.

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast."

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person.

"You're too good to me."

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time.

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head.

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond.

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy."

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this."

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you.

"Okay."

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in.

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care.

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple.

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy."

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over.

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips.

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes.

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again.

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again.

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics.

-------

The Second Anniversary

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction.

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss.

"Come on, let's go inside."

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house.

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today.

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us."

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there.

"Okay, we'll be there."

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return.

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much."

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter.

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now.

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something.

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other.

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone.

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely.

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend.

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh.

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

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haikyuuwaifu · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7

BAD BLOOD

Genre: Angst, Drama, NSFW

Warning: Swearing

MASTERLIST

KUROO + ATSUMU +HIMIKO

That afternoon found Y/N snuggled up on the couch, watching some show enjoying the quietness of the house. She knew she had to hash things out with Kuroo and Atsumu; she just didn’t know where to start. Things hadn’t been too bad since the first week she moved in; they had stopped inviting over random hook-ups and Atsumu stopped glaring...but he was still a bit cold towards her. She had gathered that Kuroo wouldn’t follow unless Atsumu let whatever silly grudge he had against her go.

Behind her a door swung open...she paid no mind to it; her eyes focused on the screen in front of her. Somewhere behind her, someone clicked the TV off and Y/N found herself lifted from her comfortable position. Atsumu settled himself on the couch, and brought her down on his lap; straddling him; he wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stuffing her face into his chest. “Just sit, and be quiet babygirl...If I gotta talk about this...I don’t want ya to see my face when I do it.” he mumbled into her hair. Behind him, Kuroo waved softly, before walking towards the kitchen to grab some drinks. “It’s time we give you an explanation Kitten.” Kuroo stated, chuckling at the shocked look on her face.

Absent mindedly Atsumu stroked Y/N’s hair as he started talking. “When I was in high school...I dated this girl, her name was Himiko...and she was...fuck she was everything I thought I needed in a partner at 17.” he mumbled. “Don’t take this the wrong way baby cakes; but she was a lot like you.” “She had this way about her...that drew people in, and the way she smiled lit up every room she walked in.” Snuggling further into his chest, Y/N listened to the soft timbre of Atsumu’s voice. “She had just moved to Hyogo from Tokyo; so ya know she was everythin our country girls weren’t.” he huffed out. He picked up a glass Kuroo set down and took a sip. “She had style, grace, and an attitude that made my knees weak.” Y/N stroked his chest softly, as Atsumu got lost in thought. “And what about you cool cat?” she murmured eyes peering over at Kuroo.

“Not my turn yet kitten, now shhh” he whispered booping her nose softly. “We got together, after a bit of chasing on my part...guess I had ta prove my country ass could handle a city girl like her... We were together for the rest of high school.” he murmured nodding towards Kuroo.

Kuroo had Y/N’s had in his marveling at the difference in size. As he played with her fingers, he began his story. “I’ve lived in Tokyo for most of my life...and for most of my life I was in love with my neighbor. She was the first girl I met when I moved there and she had been my best friend from day one.” Kuroo whispered. “I confessed to her, the night of her 16th birthday; and at the point in my life everything was perfect.” He smiled wistfully, at the memory. Y/N snuggled further into Atsumu’s hold basking in the heat radiating from him. “What happened next Kuroo.” she asked voice filled with curiosity. “Well, I confessed my love for her; she became my girlfriend, and a year later she moved away.” he smiled shaking his head. “D-did you break up?!” she shouted sitting up and looking at Kuroo eyes wide. “Of course not kitten. How could I break up with who I thought was the love of my life?” he grinned widely before poking her forehead. “Oi! don’t pick on me!” she huffed rather cutely a pout adorning her face. Atsumu sat back, taking it all in. ‘How could someone like her be soooo, so fucking perfect.’ he thought to himself as his hands found themselves stroking her bare thighs. “So how did the two of you meet?” she asked, her eyes meeting Atsumu’s vibrant brown ones.

“Well sugar lips” Atsumu mumbled, taking her small hands into his large ones, “We met at one of those gaming tournaments. We each signed up and were assigned on the same team.” he smiled softly as she peered up at him. “This is where something bad happens huh?” she asked fluttering her eyelids closed and burying her head back on his chest. “Yeah …this is where it gets bad babygirl.” he whispered. Next to them Kuroo spoke up voice a little less happy. “We had kicked it off pretty well, our personalities almost the same...so we made plans to meet up after the tournament...we spent the rest of the tournament talking about our girlfriends and thought it would be a great idea for all of us to get together.” Stroking her calf softly, Kuroo continued speaking, “ It turns out kitten...that his girlfriend and my girlfriend were one and the same.”

“Oh no cool cat.” Y/N mumbled. She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled him close to her and Atsumu. Shifting slightly she pulled him down to a laid down position and begin stroking her hand through his hair. Her other free hand stroked through Atsumu’s hair as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “Himiko had started crying when she saw the two of us. Tellin us she was sorry and that she loved us both.” Atsumu started. “We couldn’t be mad at her, so we said we’d give her sometime to choose...we’d give her space...like it was our fault.” he chuckled harshly. Next to them Kuroo gripped Y/N’s thigh shifting so he could feel her nails against the back of his scalp. “Tsumu and I agreed that we’d still be friends after the fact...but we didn’t have to worry about that since, Himiko told us over text 3 months later that she had chosen someone else.” Kuroo muttered harshly. “Never told us the guys name or anything like that, just told us he was an up and coming content creator who had more potential than we ever could.” The three of them sat there in silence thinking of the past. “Well...I’m sorry if you felt like I was going to do what she did, and I know you won’t believe me right away; but I could never do that to anyone here...I have a no dating rule in the house for reasons I’m not ready to talk about...but something like that happened to me too.” She murmured, looking them both in the eyes. Grinning, Atsumu spoke, “No dating rule huh?...we’ll see about that pretty girl...with the four of us after you; you’ll be cracking in no time.” and before Y/N could ask what he meant the front door opened and everyone else had returned home. Lev, noticing the cuddle session on the house screamed and launched himself on top of the other three demanding snuggles and movies. The rest of the night was spent with the housemates watching shitty Rom-coms, picking on lev, and 5 adults re-thinking some promises they had made to protect themselves.

Ch.6| Ch.8

@dabilove27 @sempiternal-amour @amberisnotcrazy @elianetsantana @lia-faerie-queen @sakusakeely @cosmicmermaid25 @seomisaho @kellesvt @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @deaththekidwantsyou @mushimoon14@cataxtrophic@wineandionysus @sunflowerirl @bakuhoetoedoroki @kit-kat428 @crybabbicus @sleep3deprived @iminlovewhaikyuu

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Text

Voiceless Love Chapter 9: Evermore

(Bucky’s route)

Bucky x reader

Word count: 2264

Warnings: fluff, some angst, SMUT (unprotected sex, you know better).

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @daddysfavoritesexkitten @magicalpieex @buckylokisimp @lokiyoulittle

A/N: So, because I originally intended for this to be a Loki x reader, I couldn’t bring myself to write a ton of more Bucky chapters. I kind of got bored with it and I don’t know how to write Bucky well for long so this is the last Bucky chapter. I want to thank everyone who made it to the end. I feel very blessed for how well this series was accepted considering how new I am to writing fanfiction.

There’s this old Bruce Lee quote that goes, “Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable”. It’s completely accurate.

When you first met Bucky, it was a friendship. He took you under his wing as a friend and as a mentor, one newbie to another. He was quiet and civil. It’s what drew you to him, but after months you became infatuated. Neither of you left each other’s side, until Loki came around.

That’s the flickering, or your flickering. He swooped in like a knight on the back of a donkey. He was unlikely, a rare and unstable love. You remember when you first met him. Quiet like Bucky, he had a strong presence, one that was to be noticed. Unlike Bucky, he wanted nothing to do with you at first until he got to know you. He realized you were more, but he left. His light flickered out and your flickering like with Bucky vanished. It returned full and brighter than before.

It became unquenchable. You were once again glued to him and him to you. Bucky was there through heartbreak, injury, joy, and accomplishments. After some convincing, Tony eventually let you join the team on missions and help heal on the battlefield. Had it not been for you, Steve, Bucky, and Sam would have died multiple times. Every time healing them sent you to the hospital, Bucky would stay by your side until you were dismissed.

Bucky at one point fought for you, telling the team you couldn’t keep giving them all of your life. They decided to keep you as an emergency or slight injury medic. If they barely got scratched, you would quickly heal them or if they were about to die as well. You stopped healing broken arms and pulled muscle, letting yourself recover from missions.

Now, going through your boxes to put away, you find photos of when you first joined the team. Photos of you with Bucky on late nights, you with Nat and Wanda drunk, you with Steve, Bucky, and Sam drunk. A lot of photos of you with the team drunk. You laugh at Bucky’s expression in some of the photos. Happy. Tired. Drunk.

“Why do you have so many photos of us drunk?” Bucky laughs.

He turns to see Bucky looking over your shoulder at the photos. You chuckles as you hand him some more of you and the team.

“Man, we had some fun.”

“Had? We still have fun with them?”

“Not as much. Do we forget who wanted to be on “emergency mode” for the team?”

“I see it as temporary retirement.”

Bucky laughs at your comment as he hands you the photos back. He goes back to putting dishes away into the cupboards. Had anyone told you that two years after you met the super soldier, you’d be moving into an apartment with him while engaged, you’d smack them and chuckle. If anyone told you that you’d be talking to someone as if you’ve always talked, you’d laugh even harder.

But here you are with Bucky, unpacking boxes into the new places and cleaning the surfaces. You set up an old record player he had bought for you last Christmas and put one some old records from Bucky’s childhood. Every so often, he’d stop what he’s doing and make you dance with him. Most of the time it would be a slow song you’d waltz around to, him kissing your neck and making you giggle.

After hours of unpacking, Bucky and you sit down on your new couch. You both take in a deep breath and fall on each other’s shoulders, laughing. Bucky wraps an arm around you and pulls you into him, you laying your head on his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair and looks out the window. The scenery of New York is so calm and familiar. You two debated between moving somewhere far or staying in the area, but knowing how the Avengers are always getting themselves in trouble (and how Bucky still goes on every mission with them), you decided to stay in New York.

You’re not complaining though. It’s such a beautiful sight and it’s home. Having lived in New York for two and a half years now, you feel at home here. It’s almost as if it’s always been home, but now Bucky is home, too. Your heart lies with him and this city. Sure, Loki took a piece of your heart with him to Asgard, but you remind yourself that muscles can get stronger.

You try not to think about Loki often. It only depresses you and puts Bucky in a bad mood, but you can’t help it. Losing a love is hard and sometimes you wish you could forget him entirely, as if it would be easier, but you know you can’t. Bucky has respected your feelings for Loki throughout the time. When you two moved and were packing your things, Bucky didn’t make you throw out the photos of Loki. He never made you get rid of the memories. You kept them in a safe box in your new closet.

But seeing your whole new life, the photos with Bucky, it reminds you why you moved on. You knew you couldn’t hold onto Loki forever, especially after you found out Thor was no longer fighting Odin for his freedom. It was hard, but you knew to save your heart, you had to. Bucky made it easy. He let you talk about him. He let you cry and rant about Loki. It broke his heart to see you in so much pain, but he knew it would pass.

It did pass after a while. You found a new yet familiar love in Bucky. Something warm, comfortable, easy. Bucky’s quietness and security made it easy to love him. He was a man of few words, except with you and you were a woman of none, except with him. It’s a dynamic you can live in and a dynamic that works. Anytime you were out of words or didn’t feel good, you didn’t speak and he was okay with that. He doesn’t take it personally anymore.

“I love you,” he mumbles. “I love you, too.”

He smiles at your words, knowing how much they mean and how much sentiment they hold. After so long, he lingered on every word of yours, not wanting to miss a single one. Even the avengers quieted when you spoke. You eventually got comfortable enough in front of everyone to say a few words. They managed to coax a couple ‘yes’ and ‘nos’ out of you and then a little while after, they got a few ‘thank yous’ and ‘no problems’. Steve watches Bucky whenever you speak, seeing the smile spreading on his face.

Getting engaged to Bucky brought the greatest smile and that changed Steve’s opinion on everything. Even after dating Buck for a year, Steve wasn’t sure about your relationship with the soldier. He still thought you two were too dependent and immature, but he saw the way you grew together and he knew. He knew you both were good for each other in the long wrong.

“You want to get Mexican or Chinese?”

“How about Japanese?”

“Sushi?” You ask with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve never had it.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Well, Hydra wasn’t one for non-mush paste foods and all Stark ever bought was shawarma.”

“I never understood his love for shawarma.”

“Neither did I.”

You both laugh before order yourself some food. You continue to unpack as the food is delivered. When Bucky opened the door for the delivery woman, he was stunned to see her drop the food and walk away fast.

“I think the food lady was scared of me,” he chuckles.

“Well, do remember what the whole world thinks of you.”

“You’re right, but I hate it.”

You sit down to eat and put on some show. After eating all the sushi at record speed, you find yourself yawning and falling asleep on the couch. Bucky watches you as your chest rises and falls in your deep exhaustion. He can’t fathom how beautiful you are and how lucky he is that you are his. He continues to watch you for ten more minutes before picking you up and sets you down on your shared bed.

Bucky crawls in behind you, wrapping his arms around your body and holding you close. You rustle around and push yourself closer to him. Bucky tries to swallow the feeling he gets when your butt rubs against him, knowing now isn’t the time to start anything with you, but he can’t help it. He thrusts into you, startling you.

“Bucky, what the-”

“Shhh.”

Bucky gets on top of you and kisses you hard. You tangle your fingers in his hair as you deepen the kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips, making you internally giggle. His metal arm rests on your cheek, his thumb brushing against it, as his other hand strokes up and down your waist. It leaves bruises as he goes, squeezing you, getting closer to you. You buckle your hips against him, drawing out a moan from his lips.

He leans back for you two to take a deep breath, stripping yourselves of your clothes as you do. You admire Bucky, who sits shirtless in front of you. His scars and bruises mark him perfectly, depicting a man of strength. Bucky’s eyes can’t leave your body, the way it curves and rests. He sees you as this goddess of grace and beauty, something to be worshiped.

And he does worship you. He leaves trails of kisses down your neck to your stomach, stopping right over your mound. His hot breath fans over your fold, sending chills down your spine and making you want more. Your whining begs him to get closer to you, which he teases with kisses on your inner thighs. Your wetness drips on to the bed, capturing his attention, which he replies with by capturing your slickness. His tongue presses against you, sweetly and warmly. Your moans encourage him, but he stops coming back up and hover over your bod.

Bucky slides his pants off and holds the base of his cock. He’s thicker than you imagine and for a brief second you think he won’t fit until he slowly slides into you. You can feel your walls stretching around him as the sting settles in.

“Move,” you command.

He starts thrusting slowly until he sees the way you whine, bursting into a gruesome pace. You scream out in pleasure, gripping his biceps as he hovers over you, pounding relentlessly into your wet.

“Fuck,” he moans, “feel so good.”

He leans down further and places a hand on your throat, gently squeezing. A smile spreads across your face as he does.

“Kinky little girl,” he chuckles.

His grip becomes tighter until you can feel yourself struggle a little. There’s a buzzing feeling in your lower abdomen, signaling the closeness of your orgasm. Bucky can feel you clench a little on his cock which is now buried deep in you. He stops his fast pace and changes it for a painful beating. He thrusts long and hard, surely leaving bruises from where your bodies collide. You feel your orgasm coming closer and Bucky can tell.

“Don’t cum, yet.” “B-Bucky, please.”

“Not until I say so.”

He continues to choke you as his hard thrusts become unbearable. It’s impossible to hold the orgasm back as you let it go, cumming all over his thick cock.

“Bad girl,” he growls. Bucky pulls out of you despite your complaints and flips you over so your ass is in the air. “I didn’t say you could cum.”

You feel a hard sting on your ass after Bucky smacks you. He smiles when the red mark on your skin appears, matching it on the other side of your cheek. There’s no time in between the spanks. Your ass turns bright red.

All of a sudden, you feel an intrusion as Bucky slams into you unexpectedly. You cry out in pleasure and pain as he thrusts as hard as he can. The bed shakes and hits the wall in time with Bucky’s thrusts, as well as your moans. They only spur him on, drawing another orgasm out of you.

He doesn’t stop to let you recover for a second. He grunts as his orgasm comes close, his hands gripping you harder and leaving bruises on your waist. The pace starts to stagger.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Cum for me, Bucky,” you order in a sweet tone.

Your words put him over the edge as he cums inside of you, his dick twitching against your walls as he paints them white. He lets out a large deep grunt as he releases, making you even wetter. Pulling out, Bucky takes a deep breath and disappears.

You fall foward on your stomach and breath as he returns with paper towel. He smile and shrugs, you both knowing it’s the only thing you have while unpacking. He cleans you both up before getting in bed next to you, pulling you close to him. You rest your head on his chest as he wraps his metal arm around you, kissing your forehead.

Laying here, you knew you made the right choice, moving on with Bucky. He was home.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky smut #voicelesslove #lovingallforloki

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

Text

Cloudwalker Series Part 31

It is drama time! Whump inbound.

Warnings: Blood, attempted murder, animal whump (Enchanted object), missing people/kidnapping.

Masterlist: Here

Approx WC: 3200

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @thegreathowdini

Saying that things calmed down as days passed didn’t feel right coming off Avizon’s tongue. Something was brewing, he knew that much, and between Erix wanting him killed and Borgurk haunting his dreams again… something was going to happen. He just had no idea what or when. All he was able to do was keep himself distracted, mostly by teaching Ihuka and Dyan things while they worked on cleaning the castle. Avizon helped where he was able, but he found helping more often than not made Dyan nervous. Besides, he still had to rest his leg, to make sure that he didn’t damage it.

Orrien’s attempts at getting Dyan to wield magic had gone about as well as Avizon’s if not worse. He was too afraid now, and until they were able to find a solution to his leaking magic, they were unable to teach him anything else. It was dangerous, and Avizon was constantly having to keep some attention on feeling for the magic in the castle increasing, feeling for a fluctuation. It was tiring and it pained him that he couldn’t help Dyan after giving him the problem in the first place.

Blue and Orrien visited more and more. It seemed to help Orrien just as much as it helped Blue, but Avizon also found himself to be more and more eager to see him, even if Orrien didn’t like to go inside unless he had to. Avizon understood that. There were a lot of memories, memories he’d forced himself to face and had been able to ignore when his dark magic had more control over him. He was a prisoner of the past in ways, he was used to it, accepted it. His time here was what everyone would know him for, his legacy. There was no point trying to run for it. At least he was safe here now. Every day, he felt more like himself, but at the same time… troubled. His eye had begun to hurt him more and more, so he trained as much as he could, keeping the darkness flowing, managing it all. Perhaps there was just too much light magic around him.

He knew just how much Orrien hated this castle, so he often took his birds to see them instead. But today, Orrien had wanted to come to him. Avizon had no problem with it. The weather was fine, so he had a table and chairs brought outside so that they could sit. Dyan sat on the stairs of the castle, so eager to see Blue again. Avizon sat waiting at the table, and Ihuka sat with him, learning more words and going over his letters. He was hoping to be able to teach them both to read and write soon, but he was patient, keeping his focus on Ihuka’s speaking for now.

And so they waited. Ihuka finished his lesson, and tried to go and play with Dyan, but Dyan wanted to wait for Blue. He wanted to be there when they arrived. Ihuka frowned, but he was brave enough now to find his own ways of amusing himself. His feathers had mostly grown back, so he’d been practicing his flying, getting the strength back in his wings. Avizon left him be, he trusted him not to fly off, and even if he did, he could catch him again.

And so they waited. And they waited. And waited…

Avizon sighed as the afternoon started to get colder. He gave up, putting the chairs back inside. “He must be busy, Dyan,” he said, seeing him still sitting on the step, waiting. “Let’s go inside. The circle must have contacted him, or a farm animal might have needed help. I’m sure he’ll explain soon.” Dyan shuffled on the stone step, wings wrapped tight around him, picking at his blunted nails. “I… may I wait a little longer, master?” Avizon put the chair down and crouched beside him. “If you like… are you alright, Dyan?” Dyan nodded sadly. “I just… I was excited but… now I’m just really worried. What if Erix...” Avizon rubbed his back, but his words cut deep into his soul. He hadn’t been too worried, he knew Orrien could take care of himself, but now… Erix was a good fighter, that’s why he had taken Avizon’s place in the circle. Orrien was a healer, and against Erix, Avizon doubted he’d win. “Try not to worry yourself. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” he said, hoping to keep Dyan calm. “I will try to send a message. If Orrien does not answer, then I will go and make sure everything is well, alright? Please, go inside. I don’t want you out here on your own.”

He looked up, to see Ihuka flying through the air, chirping happily. Avizon couldn’t hide his beaming smile. “Ihuka! Inside now, it’s getting late.” Ihuka took notice at once and through he frowned at having to stop, he flew towards him and landed at the bottom of the stairs. “Well done. Good bird,” he said softly. “Come now, let’s get you both inside.”

Ihuka hurried up the stairs and pointed at the chair. “I help?” Avizon was pleasantly surprised. “Yes please. Thank you, Ihuka. Good bird.”

Ihuka lifted the chair and waddled inside with it, putting it back where it belonged. Avizon had to smile at him. He’d been doing well over the last few weeks, getting more comfortable with the fact he wasn’t going to be hurt. He was kind and was Avizon’s pride and joy, they both were. He hated seeing either of them looking down and gloomy. He was happier now than he had been for so long…

He hoped Orrien not showing up didn’t signal the end of that. He had to make sure he was alright to ease Dyan’s nerves- and his own.

He fed them both, and while they were eating at the kitchen table, Avizon went to see if he could get in contact with Orrien. He hoped with all his might that he could, that this was something easily explained, but… his instincts told him something was wrong. He patiently tried to get in contact with him. Orrien would be able to feel the attempt, but despite several attempts, there was no answer. Avizon grimaced. “Please, Orrien...”

He sighed deeply, and went back to the two cloudwalkers. Dyan looked up at him quickly, eyes wide, hopeful, but pleading. He was hoping just as much as Avizon had. “There was no reply, but keep cool. I’ll go and see. I know you’re worried, and I won’t lie and say that I’m not, but there could be other reasons other than something’s happened. You two stay here, just in case. Try to finish your dinner. I won’t be long-”

“W.what if something bad has happened? W.what if Erix is still there or you get hurt. Can I come with you, master, please?” Dyan pleaded.

Avizon gently shook his head. “Stay. I should only be a few minutes, but if- if something has happened, and I’m not back within… let’s say three days, you are both free to leave the castle, assume I’m not coming back. You can live here, or fly away, I wouldn’t mind. But I promise you, I will come back. As I said, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Dyan rose from the table and hugged Avizon tight around the waist. Avizon was surprised. Dyan hadn’t shown such affections towards him for a while, but the worry was so clear in Dyan’s expression. He’d had too much unhindered time to overthink all the possibilities, and clearly few of his ideas had been nice ones. Avizon softly stroked his hair as he held him back. “It’s going to be alright, I’m sure. Good bird… go and eat please. You don’t need to worry, I’ll deal with everything.”

Avizon eased Dyan away from him and stepped back. “Be good, I’ll be right back.”

Avizon teleported to the farm where Orrien lived, deciding to not appear in the farmhouse in case something really had happened. He wanted to be prepared. Clearly something had gone on. The livestock were uneasy. Fox the horse was distressed, stomping and making plenty of noise. Avizon approached carefully and made the attempt to calm the horse before he got himself hurt. “Shhh, easy boy. Easy...”

He didn’t want to spend too long calming him down, but he helped enough, managing to get him to relax a little more in his stall. Avizon stroked his neck softly. This was odd. They should have been able to hear Fox kicking up such a fuss. Avizon kept stroking his neck while he stared at the farmhouse, trying to make out if there was any sign of movement, dangerous or otherwise. It all seemed perfectly still, but the shroud of dread was becoming more and more obvious as the sun faded away behind the trees.

“What happened here, old friend?” he mumbled to Fox. He could not speak to animals like Zena could, he could not listen, but he could feel, even if the dark magic had chewed away at that ability. He could still feel more than Fox’s fear, there was worry, confusion, a need to protect… Something was terribly wrong. He battled with his urge to rush in, his need to protect was battling with his instincts of taking care and proceeding with caution.

Once Avizon was more sure that Fox was going to be alright, he headed towards the farmhouse. He felt his magic in the palm of his hands, keeping it hidden from sight, but oh so ready to fire out at an enemy. Only as he drew nearer to the house, he felt energy. Magic- and no small amount of it. He felt Orrien’s, and for a healer, it was a concerning amount. But there was another, and though he didn’t know the owner’s magic well, he recognised it.

Erix had been here, and Orrien had used a lot of magic because of his presence. That was enough to make him shudder like a rodent had run up his spine.

Avizon tensed his jaw and carefully crept closer, trying to force himself not to rush blindly into danger. However, his worry for his master was too great. He picked up the pace until he was able to silently open the door which would lead straight into the kitchen. Power tingled in his fingertips. He pushed the door open wide and stood for a brief second in shock. It was an absolute mess. Broken plates, cupboards blasted open and the contents all over the floor. The smell of singed hair and cloth filled his nose and he scowled. The sheer amount of energy he could feel was enough to make his cursed eye hurt. He grimaced and stepped inside, trying to ignore the digging pain.

A door suddenly slammed shut. A ball of dark fire came to his hands before he could even register it. He was met with no enemy and hesitated. Had that been the breeze from opening the door or a person? Avizon walked slowly, wincing whenever the wood would creak beneath his light footfalls. He was ready to fight- to the death if need be to protect those he cared about. He needed to find Orrien and Blue, quickly.

The kitchen was unoccupied, but the magic was so heavy on his mind. He tried to understand it, picking it apart. It was clear Orrien and Erix had exchanged blows here, that they’d fought, but it only seemed to be the beginning of it. He saw a big dent in one of the cupboards. He wondered if someone had been thrown back against it. He kept looking around, only to freeze as he approached the door frame.

He crouched in front of it carefully, seeing a dark handprint. When he touched it with his other hand, he found it to still be wet. It was blood, of that he was certain even with the feeble lighting in the building that the sun gave him. He saw a trail on the floor inching towards the very bedroom Avizon had stayed in only weeks earlier. There were footprints too, someone had followed after them. Avizon went inside, but found only more magic- teleportation magic this time, he could tell by the way it flickered and jumped around. It didn’t soothe like healing magic would, it didn’t feel heavy like fighting magic. The spell's jittery nature made it harder to be able to tell if this was the source of someone appearing or leaving, but he felt sure enough. Someone had crawled this way, someone, he guessed Erix, had followed, and he’d whisked them away. It didn’t bode well. He bit back a groan of pain as his eye spiked with pain.

“Orrien! Blue!” he finally dared to call out. He had to find them!

He looked back at the handprint, and decided to see the room where the person had been. There was so much magic here he wasn’t sure if anyone was still here. It was rapidly giving him a headache. He went into the living area, finding just as terrible a mess, and this time, there was a small pool of blood by the chaise. Some had soaked into the material, but most of it was on the floor and had been smeared across the wooden planks. Avizon crouched by it, trying to feel for who it belonged to, who’s magic ran through it, but then he heard a soft scratching noise. He turned quickly, a ball of bright red fire ready to bite, but there was no one. But the light did allow him to see a glint of metal under the chaise. It moved, and with the movements, came the scratching noises. His heart sank.

“Mouse,” he murmured, reaching behind the wooden leg to scoop him up, from where he lay curled up, his back leg was kicking out, as if in pain or discomfort. He hadn’t even thought of him, he’d just fully expected for him to be with Orrien. He needed to be with him! “Come here, little one.” At first Mouse shot around and bit him, before they’d even seen who it was, without even thinking. Avizon battled back the urge to pull away, even when they broke the skin on the side of his palm as they shook their head. He didn’t want to hurt or scare them by yanking his hand away. “Agh, Mouse, it’s me. It’s Avizon. Shhh, don’t bite. Don’t bite.”

Mouse stopped and let go, once they recognised him, they backed away lowering their ears. “It’s okay,” he promised them softly. “Come on.” Mouse carefully climbed onto his hand and Avizon brought them close to his chest. His best guess was that they’d been hit with some magic, but with some patience and care, Avizon was hopeful that they’d recover. Azeera’s enchantment magic was strong, so he had to hope for the best. “You’re safe now,” he promised. But his worry only doubled for the others. He was sure that this blood was Orrien’s now, that Mouse had been there to cling onto the magic that remained. It was probably the only reason the enchantment hadn’t broken. The only reason the one part of Ro left in this world hadn’t gone forever.

Avizon lifted them up and put them on his shoulder, between his neck and the collar of his shirt. “Keep warm, and don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

But now it was back to looking, and desperately at that.

There was no one else downstairs, he was sure of that much. Mouse had been the only one. He hadn’t seen signs of anyone going upstairs, but he had to be sure. Orrien had been here, but there was nothing indicating Blue was around.

The stairs creaked and groaned as he hurried up them. “Blue? Blue, are you here?”

He’d only just gotten onto the landing when he heard a feeble groan. Mouse sat bolt upright, and Avizon saw they were staring straight at Blue’s bedroom. Avizon gulped and made his way towards it, opening the door with the smallest of trembles in his hand. The door opened with a creak, and Avizon’s gaze quickly found the source of the noise.

“Blue!” he cried. He dropped down on his knees in front of the cloudwalker, taking only the briefest second to understand how he’d been tied. Pinned on his front, hands behind his back, and a rope connected from his ankles to a rope around his neck. He raced to get him free from the ropes that bound him, that slowly strangled him as he lost his strength to keep his head up.

Avizon burned through the rope that was digging into his throat. Blue dropped down, almost lifelessly, had it not been for the massive coughing fit that overtook him. Avizon rubbed his back vigorously. “Breathe, Blue, breathe!” He heaved him up into a sitting position and untied his hands while keeping him upright. Blue’s head fell down against his chest, but he groaned again. He was still alive- thank the realms, he was alive!

He kept coughing, but now his hands were free he was able to hold onto his throat as he coughed and mewled. “O.Orrien,” he rasped. “M.master...” “Shhh, deep breaths. Deep breaths. You can tell me what happened later.” Avizon already had a fair guess. Erix had tied him up and left him to die a slow and terrifying death on his own. Avizon held him close, trying to reassure him. Mouse climbed onto his shoulder and slid down into his lap, rubbing his head against him in a bid to comfort him.

“Only nod or shake your head. Did Erix take Orrien?” Avizon asked him.

Blue choked on a sob but nodded, trembling in Avizon’s arms. Avizon swallowed back his anger. “I will find him, Blue. I promise. But first I have to get you two back to the castle where it’s safe.”

Blue whined as Avizon propped him up against the bed. “Breathe. I need to check the other two rooms, just to be absolutely sure no one else is here. I’ll be right back, Blue, I promise you’re safe.”

Avizon stood and feverishly checked the remaining rooms. He was confident that Orrien was certainly gone. He returned to Blue’s side and crouched down beside him. “I’m going to pick you up, alright? We’re getting you out of here-” “E.Erix took Orrien t.to get you. I. I think it’s a trap.” Avizon’s heart sank, seeing how he was forcing himself to speak past the pain.

Avizon scooped him up and waited for Mouse to climb into his hand to make sure he didn’t leave without them. He kissed Blue on the top of the head. “You may be right, but please rest. I will find Orrien once I know you’re safe. I swear on my blood I will find him.”

Avizon closed his eyes and focused on his home, the tower where he could look after both of them. Dyan was going to take this terribly, but there was nothing he could do to avoid it. With home in mind, he teleported away. At least he’d been able to save some. Erix was going to pay when he got his hands on him, that much was sure. The only question was... where was he?

#Cloudwalker Series #whump #whump writing #my writing #Avizon #Dyan #Ihuka #Blue #Mouse #mouse the dragon #tw:blood #tw: attempted murder #tw: animal harm #Mouse will be okay don't worry I could never hurt them really badly

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afictionaladventure16 · 4 years

Text

Remember Me (Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader)

Chapter 12

Remember Me Masterlist

Previously on Remember Me...

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares

Word Count: 2,461

A/N: We’re coming close to the end of the line...

Thanks to @rae-is-typing for editing this for me! ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BUCKY!!! I feel like this chapter sucked...

Bucky and Natasha walked down the hall, Roger waited until they were on the elevator to close the door.

“It’s Zemo,” you say as soon as Roger closed the door. You walked over to him, handing him the phone.

Roger gave you a small glance before taking the phone from your hand. “Yeah?”

“It’s time for the pet to play.”

Roger glanced over at you, he quickly noticed you fidgeting with the ends of your sleeves. A sign that you were nervous. “She’s not ready.” He tried his best to put on a brave face, but deep down inside he was falling apart.

“She’s ready when I say she’s ready,” Zemo snarled. “Make sure she’s at the base by 0500 hours.” Zemo hung up the phone. Roger felt his heart grow anxious, he thought he had more time before Zemo had you go out into the field to use you for your powers. Roger couldn’t just run away with you now, no, it would be reckless. Zemo would have his dogs on him within seconds. He would have to play this out by ear.

“What did he want?” you timidly asked.

“You should get some rest,” Roger walked over to the counter. “I’ll clean up. Just go get some rest.”

“But-”

“You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow,” Roger interrupted, his voice louder than you expected it to be, causing you to flinch slightly.

You knew that Roger would never lay a hand on you, but the anger in his voice, the way it shook with every word frightened you. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, he drew deep breaths as he closed his eyes. A young assassin afraid? Sadly, yes. Zemo had tortured you so many times, you were afraid of the rage you saw in Roger’s eyes, you did not dare to question him.

You began to make your way towards the hall, “JJ?” You glanced over at Roger who had his eyes on you. He let out a sigh, he could see the pain in your eyes, the despair they carried. He wanted so badly to free you from Zemo’s chains but he wasn’t capable just yet, but Roger knew, he would die if it came to it. “Goodnight,” he softly said, giving you a soft smile.

Returning the smile, you made your way down the hall and into your room. Roger made you feel safe, even with his sudden outbursts, you knew he was different than the others. It didn’t take you long to get ready for bed, once your head hits the pillow, you were out like a light.

The roaring of the thunder deafened your ears. You frantically looked around, spotting a man running through the forest. He carried a small child in his arms. You could hear the sticks and leaves crunching beneath their feet, it sounded so clear to you, their hand resting behind the young child's head. You began to run towards them, noticing the small child was a little girl, her eyes squeezed shut as she held onto the man with her dear life. Why were they running?

“Bucky!” You heard a woman yell in the distance. Bucky? You know that name.

The man stopped in his tracks, you could hear them panting as their head whipped around, looking for the voice that was heard through the trees. His eyes landed on you, but he didn’t seem to react. It was as if he were looking through you. You looked behind yourself to see if anyone was there but all you could see was trees on end. You looked back over to the man, taking in his features as you stepped closer. Bucky. Wait. BUCKY. What was he doing here? Why was he carrying you? What’s going on? “Nat!?” Bucky yelled.

Nat. You knew who it was, but you didn’t know them as Nat. No, you heard the name Nat but in your mind knew them as Mama.

Bucky placed the young girl on the ground, “Natasha!?” He yelled out once again, he held onto her hand.

“Papa?” She asked softly as she tugged on his hand. “Papa, I’m scared.”

You were a few feet away from Bucky and the young girl. The young girl that must be Bucky and Nat’s daughter, the one they lost, but why were they in your dream? If this was even a dream. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“I know, baby doll,” he said softly as he knelt beside the young girl. Baby doll. Why did that term of endearment give you so much emotion?

“Bucky, Run!” You heard Nat yell. A loud bang followed, and within a second, Bucky picked the young girl up and began running again. You turned around and noticed men running towards Bucky.

Turning back toward Bucky, noticing the army of men surrounding them, creating a circle around the father and his daughter. Noticing a couple of men dragging Natasha towards the front of the circle.

“Nat,” Bucky whispered. Pain panged his face, you knew that the family wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation. Bucky glanced towards the young girl, placing a soft kiss on the top of her before whispering something you couldn’t quite catch, into her ear.

The young girl began to shake her head, “Papa, n-”

“Shhh,” Bucky rubbed her back. “I promise,” he said softly. You were close enough to notice the tears beginning to form in Bucky’s eyes. “I love you, fiica mea.”

“I love you, Papa.”

Bucky then glanced over at Natasha, tears streaming down her face, “I’m the one you guys want, just take me! Leave them be!” She pleaded with the man in charge.

He scoffed, “the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow. Two valuable assets. One for the KGB and one for Hydra. Fell in love and had a child of their own, a child that could show potential.”

Bucky snarled at the man as he grew closer to them. “She’s off-limits,” he snapped, holding the young girl tighter.

The man smirked, glancing around. “Don’t you see, Soldat? You’re surrounded. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.” He then cleared his throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Romanoff will go back to the KGB, finish her training whereas our Soldat will come back to our Hydra base, where he will be rid of these dreadful memories that you,” he pointed towards Natasha. “And your little pest,” he glanced over at Bucky as he tightly held onto his daughter, “ever existed.” The couple stayed silent, Bucky tried his best to quickly think of a plan. “Grab the child,” the man ordered.

“NO!” Bucky yelled as he backed away from the men that began charging towards him.

“Don’t make me do this, Soldat.”

“I won’t let you take her!” Bucky yelled as he dodged the men.

“страстное желание” (Longing)

“NO!” Bucky felt something inside him begin to stir. You watched from the side as Bucky fell onto his knees, you wanted to run over and help him but you knew it was no use. You were just an observer.

“Bucky!” Natasha yelled.

“Ржавые,” (Rusted) The man continued.

“I-I’m sorry, Nat,” He uttered as he let go of the young girl.

“Papa!” She yelled as one of the men picked her up. “Mama!”

“Y/N!” Natasha yelled, helplessly watching as the men dragged her daughter away.

You let out a sharp gasp as you sat up from your bed. Taking in your surroundings, you had been dreaming, but it didn’t feel as if it were a dream at all. You slowly got up from your bed, slipping on your slippers as you got off the bed. Making your way out of the room and down the hall. The lamp in the living room was on, meaning that Roger was still awake.

“You’re still awake?” You asked softly as you made your way over to the couch. You sat down, pulling your knees to your chest.

Roger sighed, “Yeah.” He gave you a small glance before placing the files that had been in his hands, onto the coffee table. “Why are you awake?”

“I had a nightmare,” you admitted. “But it didn’t feel like a nightmare. I mean, I was scared, but it was as if I lived through it.”

“A memory?” Roger said. A small trail of excitement in his voice.

You shake your head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. If it were a memory then why was Bucky and Natasha in it?” You locked eyes with Roger, quickly noticing the distress in his eyes, the way they frantically moved from side to side as if they were trying to come up with an excuse and you knew right there and then, he knew something you didn’t. “What’s wrong?” You questioned.

He cleared his throat and within that split second, the distress was gone. “Nothing,” he replied.

“There was something in your eyes,” you whispered as your feet dropped down to the floor, you still sat on the couch. “Almost as if you knew exactly what I was talking about,” you mumbled, trying to piece it all together but everything just felt so hazy.

“I don’t know anything,” he softly says as he glances down towards his feet.

“You won’t even look at me!” You raised your voice, causing Roger to flinch. “That just says it all!” Roger pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m here trying my best to remember my past but you already know don’t you?” He remained quiet. “Was this all part of Zemo’s plan?”

Roger snapped his head up, his eyes locking with yours once again. “That’s enough,” he sternly said.

“Tell me what you know!” Roger got up from his spot on the recliner, making his way over to the kitchen, you quickly followed behind him. “Tell me, dammit!”

Roger slams his hand on the counter, “I can’t!” He yells. “It’ll ruin everything!”

You scoff, “so it is part of Zemo’s whole plan, isn’t it?”

Roger remained quiet. In his mind, he was trying his hardest to come up with a plan, trying to think of all the things that could go wrong if he told you right there and then.

“And here I thought you actually cared about me,” you whispered.

Roger’s face softened, “JJ-”

“No, don’t,” you snarled. Tears welling up in your eyes. “Don’t call me that. It’s not my real name, the only name I know that might truly be mine is Widow’s Bite.” With that you left the kitchen, slamming your door as soon as you entered your room. Roger flinched at the sound, he couldn’t help but feel as if he had just lost. Slamming his hand against the counter once more, he had to figure something out quickly.

Natasha changed into her pajamas, the thought of laying in bed and relaxing was sounding pretty good to Natasha right about now.

Bucky walked out of the bathroom that led into the room. “There’s just something about tonight that I can’t keep to myself anymore,” he began to say as he began to change into some shorts and an old shirt.

“What’s that?” Natasha questioned, she got under the covers in the bed.

“There were no pictures on the wall,” Bucky said as he made his way to the bed. Natasha tilted her head in a confused manner. “When we visited JJ and Roger, I noticed there weren’t any pictures on the wall.”

Natasha had not realized it when she was there, but thinking back on it now, she doesn’t recall seeing any photos on the wall. “Since we’re on the topic, Roger’s story about JJ’s mother doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky made himself comfortable under the covers before looking over at Natasha.

“When we first met, we spoke and he mentioned that his wife had passed from cancer, and every time he’s mentioned her death, it was about her cancer. Last night, he said that she died in a fire.”

Bucky pondered about it for a bit, lines beginning to form between his eyebrows. “Do you think JJ is in danger?” He asked.

Natasha glanced over at Bucky. “I hope not,” she whispered. “Do you think we should do something?”

Bucky shook his head “no, I’ll talk to JJ next week when we have our next training session.” Natasha gave Bucky a small nod. “But for now, let’s get some rest, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“You ready for this?” Natasha asked Bucky, he zipped up his boot before getting up to give a girlfriend a kiss.

“More than ready,” he whispered.

“They’re waiting for us at the helipad.” Bucky gave her a small nod, they both walked hand in hand up towards the helipad.

“Was beginning to wonder where you two lovebirds were going to get here,” Sam commented as the couple walked into the quinjet.

Bucky rolled his eyes and flipped Sam off. “I’ve been looking for you two,” Fury said, he motioned for them to follow him to a small area in the back of the quinjet. “I wanted to speak to you both before the mission.”

“On what?” Bucky asked.

Fury sighed, “please, sit down.” The couple sat down, Fury placed a folder full of files on the small table that was in front of them. Fury thought long and hard about this, debated whether or not he should tell the couple or wait for them to find out. But Fury knew, he was slowly losing the team’s trust, he knew by telling the couple this information, he would slowly gain that trust back, yet, he worried about their performance. “We were able to hack into Hydra’s system before they figured it out and kicked us out of their system,” Fury began to say. Natasha leaned over for the file, slowly opening it. “I wanted to investigate Zemos new-”

“Oh my god,” She gasped, placing a hand over her mouth to stop the sob from coming out.

Bucky leaned over to look at the file, spotting a familiar face. “That’s JJ,” he said in disbelief. He looked over at Fury, Fury’s eyes trailed down to his feet. He didn’t know how to break the news to the parents in front of him, he had practically raised Natasha as his own and seeing her in such pain brought emotion to build up inside him. Fury tried his best to push the feelings aside.

Clearing his throat, Fury found the courage to speak again. “No,” he began, “JJ is just a disguise that Zemo built. Her real name is-”

“Y/N,” Natasha stated, her watery eyes never leaving the page that laid in front of her. The page that confirmed her daughter was indeed alive.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

When He Came Home

Frankie “Catfish” Morales X Reader

Words: 2375

Summary: Your husband returns home from a ‘spontaneous vacation’ with a couple of his military friends, but you notice something off about him. While you already had suspicions, his unusual silence confirms that more happened than he let on.

Notes: Yup. All the Pedro characters shall have imagines. (I’m also thinking about writing one for Oscar Isaac’s character Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia)

You were pissed. It didn’t take a mind reader to guess that. Frankie sheepishly put down his duffle bag and stepped into the apartment.

“Hey, babe.” He greeted, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his hair nervously.

“What. The. Fuck?” You whispered, making sure that the baby didn’t hear you. Frankie stepped towards you, but you kept to the corner of the kitchen, sending daggers with your glare. “Five fucking days. You don’t answer your phone. You don’t call. I have no idea where you are for five fucking days. I tried calling Santiago, I tried calling Tom-” You didn’t notice the way he flinched when you said his name, “No one answers. Jullian had a fever and I had to take him to the doctor and you weren’t here!” You threw the rag in your hand across the counter, the sudden motion scaring Jullian. His shrill cry filled the kitchen and you sighed with frustration, moving to pick him up.

“I got him.” Frankie crossed the apartment to Jullian’s booster seat, lifting him up into his arms. “Hey buddy,” His voice was soft and comforting as he rocked the baby back and forth in his arms, bouncing on his heels. Jullian continued to cry. “I know, I was gone too long.” He leaned in, giving you a side glance as he whispered. “Momma’s mad at me.” After a few more minutes of bouncing, Jullian calmed down, laying his head on Frankie’s shoulder.

“He only stops crying when you hold him.” All of the stress and worry you’d felt over the past five days just fell away, replaced with the relief of having him home. Frankie held out his free arm and you stepped into him willingly, letting him wrap it around you.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. After everything that had happened in those god-forsaken days, he held onto the two of you with all of the strength he had left.

To make up for the distress, Frankie cooked dinner while you could relax in the living room, slowly swaying to the music on the radio. Your feet lightly grazed the wood floor as you moved, Jullian’s delightful giggle mixing with the music. He was sitting on the couch, reaching out to you with his fat little fingers. You picked him up and continued dancing, swooping him up and down to make him laugh more. Frankie peeked around the corner and smiled, wiping his hands off on a towel. This was the life that he wanted. Sure, the thought of reliving those days with Pope and the other guys was part of what got him to agree to the heist, but now that he was back here with you and his son, he couldn’t think of why he would ever risk it.

“Dinner’s ready.” He announced, almost sad to break up the little party. When you looked over at your husband, there was something about his smile that was off. Something almost sad. Like he was afraid that everything in front of him was only a dream. You set Jullian down in his booster seat and felt a hand gently rest on your hip. “Hey…” Frankie started, pulling you close to him. “I am sorry. I should have told Santigo to go without me-”

“No, I get it.” You draped your arms around his neck. “A little vacation with the guys sounded fun. You needed to spend some time with everybody from the ‘old days’.” His lips formed a tight smile.

“Right.” He pulled back and took off his hat, playfully placing it on Jullian’s head. The baby laughed and squealed as the far-too big hat flopped down in front of his eyes. Frankie smiled. “Come on, let’s eat.”

A few hours passed and Frankie was able to get Jullian to sleep twenty minutes sooner than you would have been able to. The two of you opened some beers and turned on a soccer game. Frankie loosely draped his arm around your shoulders and you curled up next to him. During commercials, a trailer for some new action movie came on, showing a group of men robbing a bank with automatic rifles. You weren’t really paying attention until you felt Frankie’s shoulders tense and the arm around you pulled you closer. His breathing was fast and his eyes were unfocused. At the climax of the trailer, a round of gunfire went off and he flinched.

“Baby?” You said softly. He hadn’t had this problem in years. “Frankie, honey, it’s okay.” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. The commercial ended and he snapped out of it, looking at you as if nothing had happened.

“I’m going to get some ice, my beer’s warm.” He announced, kissing your cheek and walking out into the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything about it for the rest of the night. You figured that hanging out with the boys maybe just brought up some bad old memories. But deep in your gut, you had a feeling it was something else. A sudden vacation with a bunch of ex-military buddies? The more you dwelled on it, the more and more suspicious it became.

You tried to call Tom, the most responsible of the group, to ask him some questions, but nobody answered. So you called Santiago.

“Hey Y/N.” His voice was pleasant and you could practically picture that smug smile on his face. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Santi, it’s been too long that I’ve had one of those cocktails of yours.” You laughed. You remembered Santigo being Frankie’s best man at your wedding, both of them all grins like a couple of high school boys. If anyone knew what was going on with Frankie, it would be Santiago. “I was just calling to ask how the vacation went. Frankie seems a little… off.”

“Oh, um…” There was silence on the other end for a moment and the rustle of him switching the phone to the other ear. “The vacation was great. He’s probably just jet-lagged.” There was something fake about his laugh that did little to comfort you. While he was damn good at what he did when it came to his friends he was a terrible liar.

“Right…” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Thanks, Santi, talk to you soon.”

“Take care, Y/N.” His voice was suddenly sincere, almost guilty. “Give that kid of yours a hug for me.”

“Will do.” You hung up just Frankie came out in his shorts and a toothbrush in his mouth.

“Who was that?” He wondered curiously.

“Just one of the girls gossiping about her ex’s new wife.” You shrugged. He stepped into the light of the bedroom and you gasped. Covering his arms and torso were scrapes and bruises, some of which looked pretty damn serious. “A fucking vacation?!” You shouted, wincing when you heard Jullian wake up crying. Frankie moved to go get him, but you stomped out furiously. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Of course, being the least favorite parent, you couldn’t get him to stop crying despite any of your efforts. You tried rocking him back to sleep, feeding him, changing him, but nothing ceased the wailing.

“Babe, let me get him.” Frankie sighed from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” You snapped, although your son’s shrieking was starting to give you a headache.

“Y/N,” Frankie held out his arms and you reluctantly handed him Jullian. Almost immediately, he began to calm down.

“I can’t…” You let out an angered growl and went to the kitchen for a glass of water to try and cool your head. You let the anger boil out of you until all that was left was the sheer panic and worry from seeing those marks. Slowly, you walked back to the nursery.

“Shhh,” Frankie cooed, sitting on the floor next to the cradle. Jullian’s tiny hand held onto his finger through the bars Jullian’s eyes slowly closed and Frankie drew his hand away but he didn’t stand up. He just sat on the carpet, looking at his son. “I heard you talking to ‘Pope’. You’re right. We weren’t on vacation.” He hung his head, his shoulders heavy with guilt. “He called us in for a job. A drug dealer down in Columbia that he’s been hunting for years had a house out in the jungle where he kept all of his money. ‘Pope’ wanted to take him down and we’d get a fair share of whatever money we took. He…” Frankie shook his head. “He needed a pilot.”

“Frankie tell me you didn’t.” You knelt down beside him, putting a hand on his bruised shoulder. After he got busted carrying his buddy’s coke, he lost his license.

“That money could have set us, baby.” He muttered angrily. “We never would have needed to worry about rent, we could send Jullian to any college that he wanted, hell we could live in an actual house instead of this shitty apartment.” You ran your hand up and down his back, careful to avoid any sore spots.

“So what happened to it?” You wondered. You weren’t mad about the money. You were pissed that he put himself in danger again. He kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“Everything went so wrong.” His words seemed to choke him as he spoke. “We took so many bags full of cash that the helicopter couldn’t make it over the mountains.” He motioned the bruises and scrapes. “These are from the crash.”

“God, Frankie,” You cried, wrapping your arms around him from behind, laying your forehead against his back in between his shoulder blades. Your hands rested on his stomach and he put his hands on top of them.

“We were too damn cocky. Thought we could actually pull it off. But things just got worse and worse and the only way to get the rest of us out alive was to ditch most of the cash.” The rest of us. Things started to click in your head and you felt disbelief turn inside you like a sickness.

“Frankie…” You moved around him so that you were looking at his face. “Why hasn’t Tom been answering the phone?” Your voice cracked because you didn’t really want to know. You wanted to pretend that it was just a stupid vacation. Frankie screwed his eyes shut and spoke quietly like if he said it soft enough then it wouldn’t be true.

“Tom’s dead.” His eyes opened, glossy and lost. And just like that, the stoney expression shattered, the numbness of everything fading and allowing for the sting. Frankie’s lip trembled and he tried to choke out something else. His friend was dead. He’d watched him die. Watched his brains splatter against the rocks of that godforsaken mountain. Tom was a good man. A father.

You didn’t say a word, instead pulled him into you, his head falling onto your shoulder, cradled by one hand as the other rubbed his back. His breathing was ragged and labored. And he clung to you like you were keeping him together, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You stayed like that in silence for seemed like an eternity before the too of you went out to the kitchen for a glass of whiskey you’d been saving for a rainy day.

He told you everything. From the walls full of cash to the villagers trying to take it. He couldn’t look you in the eye when he talked about the ones he killed.

“I shouldn’t have pulled the damn trigger, but I thought that they were getting too aggressive. Nobody knows if I shot first or if Tom did, but he��s the one that paid for it.” He drank his glass in one gulp and put it back on the counter. “That kid should have come after me.”

“Frankie, you can’t think like that.” You sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair and resting it on his cheek. “What would I have done if you didn’t come back?”

“Tom’s kids lost their father that day.” He snapped, pulling away from you. “No amount of money is going to change that.”

“And those girls don’t deserve that.” You agreed. The thought of their loss made your heartache. You made him look at you again. “But would Jullian have deserved to lose his?” You didn’t fight the tears as they fell, watching them build in his eyes as well. “Who would get him to stop crying?” You both laughed through the sadness. “Because God knows I can’t.”

Frankie finally smiled and pulled your lips up to his. His fingers found their way to the nape of your neck, tangling themselves in your hair. He thought about every time that he didn’t think he would make it back. That hazy blur when the helicopter crashed and he thought he was dead. That he would never see your face again or hear you yell at him. He would never get to see Jullian grow up. To teach him how to drive or watch him graduate.

The two of you knew that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep so you reclaimed your spots on the couch and turned on some late-night talk show. You laid down with your head in his lap and one of his hands played with your hair while the other rested on your hip.

“Hey, Frankie?” You started, rolling over so you were looking up at him. He hummed in acknowledgment and smirked down at you. “If Santiago ever needs anything ever again…” You lifted yourself up to give him a sweet and semi-seductive kiss. “Tell him he has to go through me.” He chuckled and grabbed your waist, deepening the kiss. The couch became a kind of sanctuary for him. The only thing that existed was you with your smile and your voice and your soft, unscarred skin. You were his reminder that there was still good in the world from the light you brought to the beautiful life that the two of you had created.

He was here. He made it out of the hellhole alive. And he was never risking the life he built again.

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letsmellowjello · 4 years

Text

The Notebook

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: just fluff and a tiny bit of language

Summary: Anakin doesn’t know that you draw him, but then he finds your notebook.

Notes: I absolutely hate how I wrote their little battle, it just seems so slow and not exciting. Just do me a favor and try and use your imagination a bit, okay? Just an fyi that nobody asked for, I honestly think I’m the funniest person ever and I think that the title that I chose is kinda funny (it really isn’t but still). Feedback is appreciated! The gif isn’t mine

Masterlist ~ Prompts/Requests

Some would call it stalkerish, others would call it infatuation, but you called it pure boredom and a good reference. Ever since you met Anakin Skywalker, you had been drawing him. Every spare moment was spent sketching away in your little notebook the lines of his face and the swoops of his hair. When you first started doing it you saw it as purely a way to kill time and hone your own art skills, but over time it became something of a habit and maybe, just maybe you were falling for him a little bit. Whenever you had a moment, you were always itching to take out your little notebook and pencil.

Of course Anakin never knew anything about it, you didn’t intend for him to. All he knew was that you liked to draw at times and that you had a notebook. You had to admit, it was a little creepy, but what else could you do when the pictures drew themselves? Anakin was absolutely gorgeous and a wonderful model even if he didn’t know it. You would never tell him any of these things, it would only boost his ego.

“That was absolutely horrible,” You groaned as you and Anakin left the Jedi Council Chamber. You had both just debriefed the council of what had happened during you mission which was a complete and utter mess to say the least. Nobody had died thank goodness, but so many things went wrong and it had just taken so much longer than necessary.

“I can second that,” Anakin agreed. “I have to go see Obi-Wan real quick, but do you want to go grab something to eat later?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the banquet hall. See you later.” You turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction of Anakin. You always loved your little post-mission dates. They weren’t actual dates of course, but it had become something of a ritual since you were padawans to go get something to eat and just talk and wind down after a mission.

You walked into the banquet hall and chose a seat next to one of the towering windows that overlooked the city of Coruscant. There were very few people in the hall as it was an odd time of the afternoon to be getting food, but you were both off for the rest of the day so you didn’t need to worry about missing a training session or meeting.

As you sat down you sighed tiredly, it felt like you hadn’t gotten the chance to relax in forever, which wasn’t too far from the truth. During the mission, the only time that you had been able to get any amount of relaxation or rest was in between jumps and even then there wasn’t nearly enough time to properly sleep or do a little sketching. All throughout the mission and the debriefing with the council, you had been itching to take out your notebook and start drawing. So now, when you were finally able to sit back, you took out your notebook and began to transfer your creativity to the old and crinkled paper.

As time went on, Anakin’s face began to appear soon followed by his hair, neck, shoulders, and body. You had a really good memory when it came to remembering what things or people looked like so you could draw them later. The boy in your drawing was in a powerful stance with his lightsaber raised above his head to protect against his opposition. It had been when you were on Jedha for just a little bit of reconnaissance. It was supposed to be really easy and just a quick in and out. But Anakin being Anakin and you being you, of course you had gotten into trouble and had drawn some unwanted attention which then caused you to be fending off blasters while trying to escape.

The pages of your notebook were filled with similar sketches; some of him smiling, being angry, sad, thoughtful, you had it all. Anakin was just a very expressive person which made for some very interesting drawings.

Your pencil scratched lightly at the paper to shade in the shadows of his face when you felt a presence approach from behind you.

“Boo!” Whoever it was put their hands on your shoulders to scare you. Even though you knew that someone was there, you still squeaked in surprise. You quickly closed your notebook and turned to see Anakin, but not before he got a glance at your drawing. “Hey, what were you drawing?”

“Anakin! Don’t scare me like that! How did things with Obi-Wan go?” You completely ignored his question and tried to distract him away from your notebook.

“Hey hey hey, don’t change the subject. What were you drawing? Can I see? You’re always doing stuff in that notebook and I never know what it is.” He reached for it but you pulled it away.

“No! It’s none of your business!” You protested, trying to keep it away from him.

“Let me see!” He leaned across the table and tried to pull your arm closer so he could grab the book but you resisted. It soon became an all out battle to try and get the notebook with Anakin basically on top of the table and you leaning very far back in your chair. The few people who were in the hall looked over at the two of you in disdain at the ruckus that you were making. He climbed over the table but you quickly got up and tried to hide the book in your robes but then he was there preventing you from doing such a thing. The two of you fought ruthlessly against each other to obtain the book until you managed to break free of his grip and dart away but he was quick to follow.

“Y/n get back here! I just want to see your drawing!” You were now jumping over tables and chairs to try and get away. Oh how Obi-Wan would not be pleased. The entire time he was on your heals but then he slowed and extended his arm using the Force to pull you back to him.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You protested as you tried to resist him, your feet slipping on the floor helplessly. Once he had pulled you to him, he wrapped his arms around you to try and stop you from struggling.

“Y/n just- argh stop moving! Just let me see!” Even though you were a powerful Jedi, his physical strength was too much. Realizing that there was nothing that you could do and that he would find out your secret sooner or later, you gave up and stopped squirming in his grasp. You let him take the book with a reluctant and frustrated huff.

“Anakin,” you said before he opened the book, “just know that it’s not as creepy as it looks. I promise, okay?”

“Um... okay?” He gave you a funny look and then directed his attention back to the notebook. He opened it up carefully and was absolutely dumbstruck at what he found. Almost all of the pages were filled with sketches of himself in all sorts of poses and expressions. Your face burned with embarrassment and all of the sudden the floor and your shuffling feet became the most interesting thing around. “Y/n... these are amazing...” he breathed.

You mumbled a “thank you” under your breath.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with every spare second?” He turned the notebook towards you. “You’ve been drawing me? You liiiiiiike meeee” his face scrunched up as he teased you.

“Oh shut up! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You like me! You like me! Why else would you only ever be drawing me then, huh?”

“Ugh fine! So what if I do? It’s just a couple of drawings! And besides, who would like a colossal ass such as yourself?”

“You would! Obviously.” He grinned at you as you turned away from him crossing your arms and huffed. “Oh come on y/n!” He took you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. “It’s not that big of a deal, and I don’t really blame you, I am quite amazing.” He wore a smug look on his face and subtly flexed his muscles. You rolled your eyes and began to move away but he pulled you right back, not letting go of your shoulders this time. You were now painfully aware of how close you were and the mere centimeters separating the two of you.

“I um, I have to-” You spluttered in any attempt to leave the situation. You didn’t want to meet his eyes because you knew that if you did you’d just fall for him even harder and this time you might not be able to control yourself.

“Y/n...” Anakin’s voice was soft now and had lost it’s smugness and pride. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be ashamed. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin up a little bit and you reluctantly met his gaze. What you saw in his face startled you. You didn’t see that arrogant and prideful boy you knew, there wasn’t even a hint of teasing humor or cockiness in his face. Instead there was something else. Understanding, maybe? Shyness? Care? Who was this boy and what did he do with Anakin?

“It’s not okay though, I’ve broken one of the most prominent rules of the Jedi Code! I’ve fallen for someone, and another Jedi at that!”

“That makes two of us.” His voice came out as almost a whisper. You barely heard it, but when you did it took you a moment to register the gravity of his statement.

“Wait wha-?” And then the centimeters between you disappeared and his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened by then you relaxed and fell into the kiss. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You had never experienced anything like it and weren’t sure you’d ever experience anything like it again. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and yours went to hold the back of his head, pulling him closer. But unfortunately, being human, you needed to breath. You separated reluctantly, but this time the space in between you buzzed with energy.

“So um...”

“Shhh no words. Just enjoy the moment.”

“But-” Anakin placed a finger on your lips to quiet you.

“Shhh...” You obliged and gently rested your forehead on his.

After a moment of comfortable silence, he broke the quiet. “Do you think anyone saw us? What do you think will happen if the Jedi Council finds out?”

“Oh fuck the Jedi Council, what are they going to do? Get rid of their two best and youngest Jedis?” Your own words surprised you. That position was usually reserved for Anakin.

“I’d like to do that again y/n.”

“Me too...” The space began to close again and your eyes fluttered shut until the door to the banquet hall opened. You and Anakin careened away from each other to the other sides of the room.

“Ok, please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Obi-Wan stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving but humorous look on his face.

“No nope, not at all Obi-Wan.” Anakin assured him and you nodded in agreement.

“Good, because you both know the repercussions that could follow. Anakin come with me, I need to have a little chat with my young padawan.”

“But I-” He protested.

“No buts! Let's go!” He took a fistful of Anakin’s robes and began dragging him out of the hall. On his way out Anakin gave you a helpless look that you could only laugh at.

Once they left you sank down into the nearest seat hugging the notebook to your chest, still riding out the high that you had gotten from the kiss. You felt like a lovesick little schoolgirl whose crush had just winked at her from across the playground. In all your years of life you never thought you would fall so fast and so hard for anyone, let alone Anakin Skywalker. Yet here you were. And as luck, or the Force, would have it, he felt the same about you. Obviously you couldn’t be together in the conventional way, but just knowing was enough for you.

You did not know what the future held, but what you did know was that Anakin was in it.

~~~

Taglist: @umpoedameron

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin-skywalker-imagines #mellow jello imagine #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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birdsong-warriors · 4 years

Note

I'm really loving everything abt your Swifthawk au! out of curiosity, what does his relationship w Longtail look like? he seemed like an extra committed mentor and iirc treated Swift almost like a little brother in the books, and canonically Swiftpaw's death had a huge affect on him, I'd love to see how he handles everything that happens with Swifthawk in this au and how they interact

Everything was black. Swiftpaw could hear his own ragged breathing, and the soft sounds of the camp. Wrong noises. Like something was very wrong.

He slowly tried to open his eyes. Only one cooperated. The other felt heavy and sticky, and wouldn't move. He looked around his surroundings and tried to move.

Nothing happened.

He groaned, the sensation coming back into his body like fire consuming his flesh. He grit his teeth, barely suppressing a yowl, breathing coming unevenly. His head felt like it might explode.

"Swiftpaw?"

He glanced up, his head still stubbornly refusing to move, spotting the pale shape of Longtail. His mentor crouched in front of him, panic in his eyes.

"You're alive."

Something in his tone sounded wrong. Like him surviving was a bad thing. The apprentice blinked, once more trying to move his head, to no avail.

"I can't… I can't move my head." He meowed, trying to keep the alarm from his voice. "Why can't I move? My head's splitting apart!"

"Shh, its okay." Longtail licked the top of his head like a mother grooming her kit. "It's okay, you're alive, that's what matters."

Alive. Suddenly, flashes came rushing into his mind. The teeth, the blood, the crunching of his own skull in their jaws.

Brightpaw lying motionless, her face torn away.

"Brightpaw!" Swiftpaw lurched forward. His body finally moved, but rapidly convulsed, shuddering uncontrollably. Swiftpaw yowled, trying to stop his muscles tensing and cramping all over.

He barely saw the limping grey form as Cinderpelt approached, but by the time she reached him, his body had stopped and his focus was regaining. He breathed shaky, awkward breaths, staring uselessly at the trees above him. He couldn't move.

"Where's Brightpaw?!" He demanded, but his meows came out distorted. "Where is she?!"

"Shhh, calm down." Cinderpelt joined his side along with Longtail. "Brightpaw…" She glanced awkwardly at Longtail. "...we don't know. It's been a few days, and her condition is stable… but she has yet to wake. She… might not make it."

"No… no!" Swiftpaw growled, tensing his body and trying to force it to move. He managed to lift his head a bit, but his body shook so much, he had to rest it immediately. "It's… its my fault, I dragged her into this! We just wanted to be warriors!"

"It's okay, calm down, stop trying to move. Brightpaw… she's been named as a warrior." Cinderpelt exchanged an uncomfortable look with Longtail.

"I told Bluestar not to give you yours yet. I said you weren't ready." Longtail meowed.

"What?! Why!"

"Swiftpaw…" Cinderpelt drew her ears back, looking away. "She gave Brightpaw the warrior name Lostface. To… get back at StarClan. If she gave you yours while you're like this…"

"Lostface…?" Swiftpaw tried again to move his legs. They barely shifted. "...I have to see her. Please."

"You can't move, Swiftpaw. And Lostface hasn't woken up yet." Longtail rested his tail across the apprentice's shoulders. He hesitated. "Can you… tell us anything about what happened?"

Swiftpaw grit his teeth, still trying to move. "I…" He paused, trying to think about what happened. "I don't… remember. All I remember was blood, and teeth, and… seeing Brightpaw…" He closed his eyes, trying to revisit the memories, make them clearer. "I can't… I can't remember!"

Cinderpelt licked the top of his head. "I'm not surprised. You suffered a critical head injury."

"...is that why I can't move?"

"...I don't know." Cinderpelt sighed. "I have to go check on Lostface. Longtail, do you mind watching over Swiftpaw? I'll bring you some poppy seeds soon."

"I will." Longtail watched her leave, tail flicking around Swiftpaw.

Once Cinderpelt was gone, Swiftpaw managed to force his body to lean against his mentor. His company was some comfort, but nothing could stop his body from spasming. He suppressed a whimper, gritting his teeth.

"...what's going to happen to me?"

Longtail didn't respond initially. He curled tighter around his apprentice, resting his chin on his shoulders. "I don't know."

"I'm hearing that a lot." Swiftpaw half hissed, trying to draw his ears back, but one wouldn't move. "What do you know? What's wrong with me?"

Longtail groomed his apprentice's shoulder, near where it stung. "...you have a few injuries. They'll heal."

"Like what?"

"...something's wrong with your head. Like it was crushed. Cinderpelt thinks you may have a skull fracture, and your back teeth on that side are shattered. Your ear's pretty messed up. And your back leg… well. We'll see what happens with that. But your tail is gone."

Swiftpaw managed to shake his head a tiny bit as the list went on. "...what happened to me?"

"That's what we're all wondering right now. You… may have to move to the elder's den, Swiftpaw."

The black and white tom growled low in his throat. "No. I won't. I'll be a warrior. I'll do what it takes. I won't be useless." Swiftpaw groaned, trying once more to force his chin up. He succeeded for a few seconds, before it shook too much it fell again.

"You must be hungry." Longtail licked between Swiftpaw's ears before getting to his paws. "I'll bring you some fresh kill, and some moss soaked with water. We'll take care of you, Swiftpaw."

Swiftpaw lay uselessly, watching him leave. "...Longtail?"

"Yeah?"

Maybe he shouldn't ask. But he had to. "If I...can't recover. If I don't improve, and it looks like I'm just gonna live like this forever… can you… can someone…" Swiftpaw's voice broke. "I don't want to live like this. Please…"

Longtail watched him closely, expressionless as he thought over his response. "...you shouldn't think like that, Swiftpaw. No cat's going to… you're safe here. We'll take care of you. No matter what."

"But what if--"

"Stop it." Longtail's tail lashed behind him, as he raised his head defiantly. "You're not going to die. Whether you want to or not. You're going to recover. You're strong. You'll get through this."

Swiftpaw stared at him, chin still stuck to the edge of his nest, having lost any ability to move his head. The thought of living the rest of his life that this horrified him. But he reluctantly dropped the subject, watching as Longtail disappeared into the brush, his tail still flicking in irritation.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he would get better.

But Swiftpaw highly doubted it.

#swifthawk au #suicide warning #??#not sure how to tag that but #i worry it might be a trigger #please message me with ideas of how to tag this #swiftpaw #longtail #cinderpelt #asks #anon #bird writes things #suicidal thoughts #content warning

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms- In the Flesh.

Part 16

No editing, we die like men: ill prepared and confused. Did I read this over even once before posting? Nope.

Warnings back fully into effect. Have triggers? Just go ahead and avoid this. Don't want to spoil anything, so I wont say which, but guys, you've seen my other chapters for this. You know better.

This was actually fun to write with my weird view point that's both in the moment and yet so disconnected.

CLOSED list of hooligans: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Following Damian back into the living room, she saw the group all gathered around their phones, whispering amongst themselves. Approaching soundlessly, she peeked over Juleka's shoulder, catching sight of the screen at the same time Jason did.

The Joker. He had escaped Arkham once more and now held a broadcast, obviously attempting to get the attention of the Batman. Apparently he set up a new game for them to play. To make matters worse, the prize for winning? The return of Robin. A young looking boy in a different form of the Robin suit was shown for only a moment, glaring at the camera in his face. The timer was set and the broadcast cut.

That location, it was far closer to their own location than the Wayne manor. Bruce wouldn't make it. It was her and Jason all over again.

Jason.

Turning on her heel, she took a deep breath and swallowed hard to settle the anger rising in her throat and took command.

"Damian, see to Jason, keep him calm. The pit is about to take hold," she spoke calmly, Damian nodded and lead the taller man away as she turned towards the group watching her every move, "I'm setting out. Jason is likely to come with me. You'll watch over Damian in my absence. I do not expect any of the kwamis to wish to transform with me, but if you decide to, you'll need to be morally ambiguous unlike Tikki or Plagg. Neither of us will be held back or redirected. You'll have to accept whatever comes of this," looking away from the kwamis and to the bristling teens in front of her, she hardened her gaze, "Unless one of you has experience with the Lazarus Pits and their effects, you will stay away from either of us or that building. Judging by the gasps I hear from the kwamis, they will enforce this for me if you decide not to heed my words."

Stalking into her room once more, she started to drag out bags, open compartments in drawers, pull off seemingly decorative pieces from the walls. Longg approached her carefully from the side.

"I will transform with you. The others would feel more comfortable if one of you were superpowered and I'm morally gray unlike the main set."

Nodding, she took his piece carefully, "I need you to make my suit stealthy. I will not be caught due to bright colors."

"The suit will match your will," he reassured.

Transforming, she took in the multiple shades of grey and black lining her body in waves, selective holding pouches hidden within the fabric. Placing her knives about her body, she found a retractable bladed staff along her thigh. Perfect, one less large piece to carry.

Grabbing a mask, she slipped out to find Jason mostly calm. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the bathroom and handed him his own clothes back from the league missions.

"He won't be transforming?" Marc inquired.

"His body is more riddled with madness. It's less than it would be had his soul been dipped as mine has, but I've had time to tame and curb the insanity. He hasn't. Add superpowers to the mix?"

"He'll level a city," Plagg spoke up.

"Exactly."

"And you're taking him with you?" Kagami growled out, obviously against the idea.

"Would you rather I leave him here so he can accidently kill one of you and hate himself for the rest of his life? Besides, he has no attachment towards Damian yet. I'm not risking it," her tone brokered no arguments and Jason emerged in that moment. He immediately went into her room and pulled out a gun from her side drawer, muscle memory letting him navigate the place as his own. He put it in the holster on his thigh and went towards her equipment, still out and waiting for him, sifting through until he found a larger set of machetes, grabbing them and a second mask before rejoining her at the window to the fire escape. With just a glance towards the other they knew their minds were in sync.

"Damian, stay and watch them," Jason ordered, the kid nodding at his given mission, turning towards the team with crossed arms.

With that, they climbed out and took off across the rooftops.

…

The run went by in a blur of motion neither could remember. Now they crouched on the edge of the building the Joker was supposedly in, scoping out the entrances. She could feel Jason practically vibrating at her side and traced spirals along his spine to keep him mentally in place.

"Shhh, focus on my instructions Jason. Those voices aren't as important as our own," she murmured, finding an unguarded door. The idiot never used obvious doors, so of course the clown wasn't focused on them as much as the windows, basement and roof access. The door she found looked like an old employee entrance, easily overlooked.

"Jay?" Before she could finish the inquiry, he moved forward and picked the lock, letting them in, keeping in front of her.

"Based on the lighting in that video, I'd guess they're keeping him further up. What do you think?"

"Likely midway up, seventh or eighth level."

They skirted their way up staircases, quietly knocking out anyone they found on their way up. Occasionally they stopped to practice deep breaths, as the further up they went, the more vivid the green in their eyes glowed. Both could sense the impending catalyst and tried to press the insanity back. They wanted this to be on their own terms.

At about the sixth level, Jason found himself having to hold Mari back, having almost torn out a guys throat for simply struggling too much in the takedown.

"Not worth it. Not yet."

Breathing heavily, the voices dropped back to reasonable levels, allowing their continued movement. Mari found herself meditating as they went, recentering herself. One of them had to stay fully self aware and she knew it had to be her. Jason needed someone to watch out for him in his first true rush, not to panic in the middle when no one could hold them back. She would be there the way Talia had been for her. As Damian normally was.

At the ninth floor, they found their target.

Marinette felt borderline insulted at the difference in treatment.

The current Robin was swinging upside down, bound in rope and gagged.

They had been chained to an operation table, beaten to a pulp with every moment too long the bat took. This boy didn't even have a guard on him. Sure, there were boobytraps set all over the damn place that they painstakingly dismantled one at a time, but even still. Not a scratch on the kid's face. Shaking the thought, Mari chided herself. Her anger was reserved for the people who put them in this situation, not some boy that was obviously dragged into the adults' personal issues. She knew when they escaped and the madness leveled out, relief for his unharmed state would course through her like a tidal wave. For now, she felt contempt and resignation. When the last trap finally fell apart, they heard his voice.

"Batsy! So you finally decide to show on time for one of your pretty birds?" It called, still not in view.

Jason bristled in her peripheral and she yanked him around quickly to focus in on her, aware of the hanging kid's eyes trained on them.

"Save Robin. He can't. He won't. We know this. Do what he didn't for us. Save. Him."

Jason's pupils blew under the mask and a growl tore from his throat as he turned towards the masked child, letting the anger direct itself into righting the injustice done unto him.

Marinette turned back towards the voice, creeping forward, bladed staff withdrawn and extended. She watched its shadow as it twisted along the walls. Finally, it turned the wrong corner and she slammed the side of the staff against him, letting the staff glide along their body as they were forced back, the tip catching their chest and opening a gash through his suit.

Joker jolted, gasping and confused, "You're not Batsy."

A feral grin grew upon her face, "No, but I'm so much more fun, wouldn't you say?" she activated wind dragon, blowing him further back across the room until he stumbled and fell onto his back. He quickly grabbed up a device and smiled maniacally, holding it up to view, starting a spiel about what it would do if he pressed this particular button, blah blah blah. She wasn't here for his rambling. Activating electric dragon, she launched herself into the device, shorting it out into a useless hunk of metal. Reappearing in front of him, she drew out her blades, only to hear quiet feet land in the room over.

"And what exactly did you have in mind, girly?" He asked, licking at the corner of his mouth in a weird tic sort of a way.

Placing a grin to rival his own across her face, she tilted her head, "It is not what I'll do that should concern you. Rather, what I'll allow him to do," she watched annoyed confusion flicker across the clownesque features as Jason appeared at her side, a second set seeming to approach her from behind. Reaching back, one hand grabbed a thin shoulder in a harsh grip to keep the kid in his place, the other went to her side to grip a broad shoulder in a more crushing grip to keep Jason from moving too soon. She turned and looked into masked, violently green eyes.

"Do you want to?" A nod. "Will you regret it?" A shake. "Will you take back your mind when it's over?" Another nod. "He's all yours, Bird. Get it out of your system, find me when you're done." A growl.

She let go and turned towards the kid, bodily backing him up into the other room, out of view.

"You don't want to see this."

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I'll figure it out either way. Be nice if you made it easy though."

"Hmm, how does one become a Robin? Oh yeah, the previous one either leaves or dies."

"You don't mean," the kid's eyes widen.

"He shouldn't of allowed another one. Isn't one child dying for his cause enough?"

"It's not like that," he grew defensive.

"Isn't it though? Whether you wanted it or not, if anything happens to you, it's because he decided another child could fight actual murderers."

"That's beside the point, I need to stop them," he tried to push past her only for her to activate wind dragon and pick him straight up and out of the building to another rooftop, letting him go at the top, though grabbing his grapple as she reformed.

"Do you recognize this part of the city?"

"What are you doing? Let me back in there," he sounded panicked.

"Breath, little bird. Do you recognize where we are?"

"I- yes. I recognize it."

"Do you know how far it is from Wayne Manor?"

"What does that-" he attempted playing dumb.

"Do you?"

"Of course I do!"

"I know you do. You're a smart little bird. Very well learned. You know how long it takes to get here from the Manor as well don't you? And what time the broadcast went up?"

The kid's face darkened, and while he obviously didn't want to admit it, he could obviously make the calculations.

"He wouldn't have made it on time."

"It was on purpose. Joker wants to remind him of his greatest failure," the teen, she realized, rationalized.

"Batman isn't the only one Joker reminded. People don't take kindly to reminders of their dying day."

"So you two are?"

"Undead? In a funny way, yes. And absolutely riddled with destructive insanity."

"You don't seem it."

"I've had time to repress it. Learn control and stability. Him, not so much. This is his first relapse. There's no preventing it. Only directing it. I figure taking out an actual child murderer, who has tortured and ended the life of hundreds, including the sick and dying would be an alright outlet."

"It's immoral."

"We both know the only reason Bruce won't kill is that he wouldn't stop once he started. He'd lose control entirely. It's nothing to do with morality. Otherwise he wouldn't turn a blind eye to the select hits Alfred made in his time."

"How do you know so much?"

"How do you?"

"I figured it out on my own and decided for him."

"Very clever of you. But you didn't decide for him, he let you and took advantage of your determination. I'm sure in more ways than this one." She picked his arguments apart, remembering the way Talia detached Damian from herself. She didn't like the idea of manipulating a kid into disowning his own family, but a toxic situation was still toxic. She'd contact Alfred later to get back in touch as well as a better read on the situation.

As the teen became frustrated once more, he moves towards her to get back his gear only for Jason to drop next to them, breathing heavily with blood dripping down his arms and from the blades across his back, down onto his legs and the ground surrounding.

He seemed to slowly come back from the insanity, leaning into her, "I killed him. Fuck, I killed him," he gasped.

Marinette reached up and stroked his head in soothing motions.

"It's okay, Jay, it's okay. He deserved it. You hate taking another's life and feel the weight of it, but it wasn't a life that was regrettable to end," she whispered, remembering the words that assuaged her own guilt.

"The-the Joker is dead?" The teen before them whispered.

Jason peeked up at the little Robin before them, the green sparking for another moment, "He made another? Replaced us? The mantle should have died when you did. Dick should have stopped him," he groaned out, hatred and fear pulsing in waves.

"Oh shit, you're the last Robin. Jason," the teen's breath caught, half in awe, half dread.

"Yeah, the last. Why? You shouldn't be here," his voice quivered.

Mari handed the grappling gear back over, looking him directly in his hidden eyes, "I know you're going to tell him Jason's back. That he killed the Joker. I'm sure you'll even mention me. But I'm sure he'll notice our own message."

"And what would that be?"

"We were the ones to save you. Not him. Let me know if you ever need an escape from that nightmare."

With that, she lead Jason away, having heard his breathing even out and calm moments before.

"Let's go home," she whispered in his ear, getting a soft nod and taking off back across the roofs.

#jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #WFTW #part 16 #Robin response.exe has stopped responding #hes a little shocked #thats why he no fight harder #if anyone wants me to actually write a snippet of Jasons killing let me know #be warned it would be needlessly graphic

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thebladeblaster · 3 years

Text

Rebirth of A Samurai (Part 3)

Summary: This fic is a what if scenario to SMT4 Apocalypse. I would go into more detail, but I don’t want to spoil too much of what this fic entails. If this fic gains traction I may continue the story on from this one-shot. Warning: This is a long one.

This may be the last I write for awhile with college right around the corner. I won’t stop completely, but it will become a lot slower.

“Shhh...don’t say that Flynn is supposed to be having a nice dream.”, Flynn’s mother said.

“Who the fuck are you? Your not my mother she might have been controlling and overbearing, but she had a good heart. She was never a colossal bitch even to Issachar.”, Walter questioned.

“Your mother? Are you Flynn’s…? No he’s not he’s...we’re...I-I’m not Issachar!”, Issachar said.

“What are you saying of course your Issachar!”, Not-Flynn’s mother said.

“No, I’m not Issachar! And their not Jonathan, Walter, and Isabeau! We’re the fifth son, Flynn Alexander!”, Not-Issachar rebuked.

The prentices eyes widened.

“I’m not…? I’m not Jonathan?”, not-Jonathan questioned.

“Think! Do you know your parents' names? What’s the first thing that springs to your mind? How about where you live?”, not-Issachar questioned.

“I-I...Why am I imagining…? Wait, I don’t know where Jonathan lives. I've never been there. Not even before or after he became Merkabah I just never had time to.”, not-Jonathan said.

“Merkabah? Why does that…? That’s right Jonathan became Merkabah and Walter became Lucifer! I fought them!”, not-Isabeau said as her eyes widened.

“Hoy?! What are you guys...Wait I fought Merkabah too but I didn’t fight Lucifer I helped him!”, not-Walter said.

“That’s right, we're the fifth son. You who looks like Jonathan you chose preservation. You who looks like Walter you chose upheaval. You who looks like Isabeau you chose neutrality. And I who looks like Issachar...I chose to unmake the world. I chose nihilism.”, not-Issachar revealed, after he did there was an audible crack in seemingly reality.

“Hoy, that means there’s a version of me that chose law? Ah gross…”, Not-Walter said.

“The feeling is mutual.”, Not-Jonathan said with disgust in his eyes looking at not-Walter.

“No wonder I thought you guys really were Jonathan and Walter. You sure butt heads like they eventually did.”, Not-Isabeau responded with a light chuckle.

Not-Flynn’s mom’s eyes were shadowed as the world around them went silent. Everyone around them froze in place before turning on them.

“You shouldn’t be here, interlopers.”, Not-Flynn’s mom said.

“I know we shouldn’t normally. Our memories of the previous cycle’s are usually mostly dormant in our subconscious, but you’re tampering with the current Flynn’s mind has called us here, Krishina!”, Not-Issachar explained.

A demonic smile identical to the one on Flynn’s face when he was possessed appeared on not-Flynn’s mom’s face. He dropped the disguise revealing himself as Krishina.

“Get away from us! I mean Flynn! I mean stop!”, Not-Issachar said as he pulled a samurai said as he pulled out a samurai sword from thin air and the others drew theirs.

Flynn's past lives memories were normally kept in his subconscious to prevent them from driving him insane. They are basically the embodiment of his memories of those past lives. He remembers they awakened when Krishna started messing with the current Flynn’s mind. They were awakened to stop him from turning him into a mindless puppet. However, when then entered the illusion their minds were tampered with like the current Flynn’s made to believe they were other people so Flynn didn’t instantly realize something was wrong. He could tell by looking in Flynn’s eyes those times. He was slowly losing his own will. He could feel he was dangerously close to losing what’s left of it. That’s why Krishna had so much power in his mind now. He created this illusion after his fellow Divine Powers tortured him for days to break him.

“My kalki is almost ready for our fight with YHVH and I’m afraid I don’t have much time for you since I’m dealing with another interloper right now. Let’s see if you can defeat your own mind. Well I won’t but...well see you later kalkis.”, Krishna said before disappearing.

“Pfft! Is this the best you can do Krishna? You should know better than to underestimate the king of Tokyo! I can beat this entire village alone!”, Not-Walter boasted.

As if Krishna heard him, demons, angels , gods, and even humans appeared from all around them. Every single person or creature they had ever fought throughout the cycles was here, even the likes of Lucifer, Merkabah, Ancient of Days, Sanat, and Masakado.

“You just had to say that didn’t you?”, Not-Jonathan questioned, with a priceless look on his face.

“Aww man...this is gonna be awesome!”, Not-Walter said.

Not-Jonathan’s eyebrow twitched incredulously.

“How in YHVH’s name did I become you?”, Not-Jonathan questioned in complete disgust.

“You probably got sick of that pole up your ass and decided to actually live a little in your next life.”, Not-Walter replied.

“Simmer down guys, we gotta work together for now. Even if it’s just a temporary truce.”, Not-Isabeau said getting between the two.

“For now, after all it would be a tragedy if I was forced to fight my lord.”, Not-Jonathan replied.

“Your lord is the reason we’re in this freaky time loop. But, I guess I’ll tolerate your high strungness for a bit longer. I’d hate to lose my free will.”, Not-Walter replied.

“Just uh wow…”, Not-Issachar said, amazed to see how extreme some of his other selves were.

“I guess this is what we would have been like had we fallen into ‘monolithic extremes’ as Isabeau called it. But, now is not the time for that, the people need us.”, Not-Isabeau said.

“Uh yeah…!”, Not-Issachar replied, feeling awkward since he chose nihilism.

Even now not-Issachar regretted his cowardice in choosing that choice. Unlike the other Flynn’s he did fervently believe in the path he chose.

They called upon their own demons from their respective cycles. Not-Walter rushed into a horde of demons with reckless abandon, slicing them into bits. Not-Jonathan swiftly beheaded Hope without any emotion. He then stayed back observing their enemies and exploiting their weaknesses. Not-Isabeau used Antichthon which was effective against basically everything, vaporizing low to mid and even some lower high tier demons instantly. For those it didn’t it lowered their overall performance crippling their offense and defense. Not-Issachar rushed to Flynn now that Krishna was nowhere in sight. However as he did he was stopped by his dad.

Not-Issachar froze facing his father still remembering finding his mangled form on that fateful day.

“Sorry dad.”, Not-Issachar apologized, before instantly vaporizing him with Antichthon.

He looked all over for Flynn before finding him unconscious. He ran over to him, shaking him awake. Not-Issachar looked relieved as he started to stir.

“Issachar?”, Flynn questioned sleepily.

That relief faded when he felt a sword get thrust through his chest. He knew that was a bit too easy. What he did expect was for him to transform into a giant fiery snake.

“I-I don’t remember that happening?! It must have been Krishna. You're a decoy.”, Not-Issachar said.

“I am Shesha. I fooled you like I fooled your little dim witted Tokyo.”, Not-Flynn said.

“You did what…”, Shesha nearly flinched when he heard the low angered tone of Not-Isabeau.

He could practically feel the anger radiating off her umm...him? Well he was Isabeau right now kinda. Anyway, Not-Isabeau practically launched herself at Shesha. They flew through the building creating a massive hole in the house.

“Then where’s Flynn?”, Not-Issachar questioned.

He looked around the remains of the house and ran through the battlefield making sure to punch Tayama when he saw him. Throughout the carnage he noticed a calm spot like the eye of a storm. That was it he rush through to see an unconscious Flynn guarded by Odin, Maitreya, and Great Innana. They haven’t personally fought them like Shesha so this was more of Krishna’s manipulation. His demons came to his side Quetzalcoatl, Tiamat, and Orochi. He was having a tougher time than the others due to having weaker demons since his cycle ended prematurely. He was able to defeat Innanna and greatly wound Matrieya, but he was tiring and Odin killed off his demons.

“Heh, despite not being the first, you're definitely the weakest incarnation of our godslayer.”, Odin taunted as he prepared to finish him off.

He closed his eyes as Odin thrust his spear forward and a loud crackle of lightning rippled through the air.

“Odin! You bastard, you embarrassed my current self by knocking him out and kidnapping him! I’m going to tear your head off like I did to the Odin of my cycle!”, Not-Walter yelled as he jumped out from a horde of dead demons and launched himself at Odin like a madman.

Odin was too low to turn his attention to not-Walter as he was nailed in the gut by Deadly Wind. He gasped in pain, flinching and dropping his spear as not-Walter smiled devilishly. Matrieya tried to attack but not-Walter grabbed his face and vaporized him with Antichthon.

“Hoy, get up Flynn!”, Not-Walter said as he kicked the unconscious Flynn much to not-Issachar’s horror.

He cringed as he heard Flynn wince.

“Argh!!! Walter stop! Wait Walter? How do I know your name?”, Flynn questioned.

“Because none of this is real and you’ve gotta get your ass up and kick the shit out of that fedora wearing god!”, Not-Walter explained poorly.

“I-I what?!”, Flynn questioned, reasonably confused.

Not-Issachar tried to explain the situation to Flynn properly, leaving out anything about his past lives letting him believe they were just versions of his friends created by his mind. Reasonably Flynn looked shocked and skeptical, but he also saw Kiccigiori was now a massive battleground full of demons, angels, gods, and humans.

“T-there’s no way it c-can’t…”, Flynn mumbled, tears forming in his eyes looking around at the battle.

“Tough shit! That’s the truth Flynn! Our family is dead, Issachar’s dead, Jonathan’s dead, Walter’s dead and now Isabeau!”, Not-Walter said harshly.

Flynn stepped back looking incredibly shaken to his core.

“Have some tact!”, Not-Issachar yelled at not-Walter.

“We don’t have time for tact! He has to man up and wake the fuck up now or we’re done for good!”, Not-Walter yelled back angrily.

Flynn’s head hung low, covered by his bangs. Not-Issachar put a reassuring hand on Flynn’s shoulder.

“It may seem all dark now, but don’t give into despair like I did.”, Not-Issachar told him.

“You can’t go Flynn! You have to stay here with us! That’s what you want right Flynn? That’s what you always wanted! You never wanted to make the tough decisions! You just wanted to be a follower!”, another Not-Flynn’s mom said with another fake version of his dad by her side.

Tears fell from Flynn's face as he met his fake mom’s gaze. She opened up her arms to welcome him. Flynn shook, walking over to their side.

“You can’t be serious! You're even weaker than that quitter over there!”, Not-Walter roared in rage.

“I’m sorry…”, Flynn apologized quietly.

“Flynn…”, Not-Issachar murmured, sinking his head in defeat.

“...Mom...Dad...But there's nothing left for me here. You guys are dead, so is Issachar, and the village is in tatters. I let myself fall victim to this illusion because I wanted it to be real. I wanted your deaths to all be a horrible nightmare, but it’s not. It’s real and because I bought into this illusion more people...people I was supposed to protect are dead. I have to go back.”, Flynn said, with a steely resolve turning from his fake parents.

“No! Don’t abandon us again! I didn’t raise you to be heartless man who would walk out on his own family!”, his fake father yelled.

“Kiss our ass Krishna!”, Not-Walter yelled back smugly, flaunting Odin’s decapitated head as a trophy as Flynn walked towards them slowly picking up speed.

His clothes started to flicker out from his peasant garb to his samurai garb. Suddenly everything went white.

“Haha! He has spoken! You have now regained your right to create a world messiah Flynn! Let’s see if you fight to keep that right!”, the voice from his dream at the beginning of his adventure said.

When he reopened his eyes he saw a familiar teen with a half shaved head of brown hair and eerie glowing green eyes. He wore a green jumpsuit and had glowing green celtic tattoos, Nanashi. By his side were his own demons Anubis, Shiva, and his own Odin. It seemed he was in the middle of battle with him. He felt the weight of a pink lotus in his hands making him realize he was transformed like before. He was doubled over as Nanashi prepared to strike him down.

“Isabeau...what happened to Isabeau?”, he asked.

“Huh? Why are you asking, didn't I tell you, Krishna?”, Nanashi asked.

Vishnu-Flynn’s eyes were shadowed as he asked and Dadga’s eyes widened in realization.

“Wait there kid!”, Dadga tried to warn in his odd accent.

“I killed her like I did to the others before facing you. Heh, she called out Flynn’s name till the end. She was just another useless bitch like Asahi.”, Nanashi taunted, thinking he’d won.

He didn’t fully mean that he felt a bit bad about killing the others after everything, especially after actually carrying out their deaths, but it was far too late to turn back now.

“Heh, he’s shaking. Krishna must be scared now knowing I beat the others.”, Nanashi thought.

Honestly the whole point of telling him of his betrayal was meant to intimidate him. After all, he knew his former friends weren’t complete slouches. To be fair he died a few times fighting them. He killed them because he knew they would oppose the path he took.

However, Vishnu-Flynn was not shaking from fear...it was unbridled rage. The entire area around them was filled with a powerful aura of bloodlust. Nanashi was going to swing down at him with Masakado’s katana, but he couldn’t feel his arm. He looked over only to gaping in horror when he saw his hand had been severed without him even noticing. His hand still holding the katana stabbed into the ground behind him. Nanashi’s eyes widened in absolute shock.

“You fucked up there kid. That’s not Krishna.”, Dadga said.

Before he could even react his body his head was cut clean off by Vishnu-Flynn’s next strike. Nanashi tried to bite back the intense pain circulating throughout him. Normally no one would know the pain of their head being severed due to dying instantly, but since Nanashi was immortal he felt all of it and he howled in pain.

“You!!! How dare you! I saved you! I trusted you! And you killed one of the only people I had left!”, Vishnu-Flynn roared full of venom.

He stood up to his full towering height with two new detached arms and four new red laser swords.

“Ah, Flynn! He’s Flynn. Did he have to go for my head?”, Nanashi thought as his body started to regrow itself.

Nanashi gasped in pain as he was torn apart by Vishnu-Flynn’s blades again before he could regrow his body fully. A loud crackle of thunder slammed down at Vishnu-Flynn which he blocked with his swords. Which hummed only powered up by the lightning. He turned his attention to Nanashi’s demons. He dodged a Mamudoon launched by Anubis. He swiped his arms not releasing his full magical power which was dormant while under Krishna’s control and used Antichthon on Anubis nearly vaporizing him on the spot and severely crippling him. He finished off the god with a single strike to his blade. Shiva launched himself at him and the two were locked in a dangerous dance of blades. Shiva was skilled certainly, known as the destroyer in the polytheistic religion he was technically apart of right now as Vishnu-Flynn. However, Flynn was very very pissed off. When he was pissed off he didn’t slip up no...he became more skilled and more merciless in combat. Besides he’s already fought Shiva before and he knows the way he fights. Vishnu-Flynn turned the tide against Shiva putting him on the back burner as Odin tried to shoot lightning at him.

Dadga gaped genuinely impressed as Vishnu-Flynn danced around Odin’s lightning and fought Shiva at the same time. The difference between Flynn and Krishna fighting was like the difference between Heaven and Earth. Krishna certainly wasn’t a slouch, but he was primarily a schemer who used what most would consider more underhanded tactics and trickery to win fights. Flynn however was a godslayer in every meaning of the world. Dadga felt he truly understood what exactly made someone a godslayer when he saw Flynn fight. Flynn reacted to and attacked on pure instinct like a demon. However, he attacked with the skill and precision of a human. His skill in question was truly staggering on the level of no...even surpassing the best warrior gods as he was completely overpowering and nearly toying with Nanashi’s demons.

He finished healing up his godslayer who took a deep inhale as his body finally reformed after being mangled badly by Vishnu-Flynn. Nanashi tried to regain his bearings and prepared to attack Vishnu-Flynn. It took much longer and was much more draining for Dadga than usual because usually not as much of Nanashi had to be healed when he revived him. Usually the kid might get stabbed in the heart, decapitated, or even instant killed, but those weren’t as hard for him to fix.

“That man is a real monster.”, Dadga thought, feeling nervous for the first time he started his campaign to kill all the gods and recreate the universe.

This man didn’t have the ability to revive as he pleased and he was merely a human. Well...he wasn’t right now, but he usually was. At least Krishna had good taste that’s exactly why he planned to steal his godslayer from him.

Vishnu-Flynn dodged Odin’s spear strike causing him to pierce Shiva. With a swipe of his hands Vishu-Flynn obliterated the two with Shine More like Anubis not even leaving a trace behind for Nanashi to revive. Nanashi concentrated and launched a Deadly Wind at Vishnu-Flynn. More demons had replaced his fallen ones: Great Innanna, Isanami, and Xi Wangmu.

Vishnu-Flynn dodged his attack shot forward faster than Nanashi could comprehend and sliced him into bits again this time using Dark Nandaka on his bits. His demons turned to Vishnu-Flynn completely stunned at his speed. Before Great Innanna could even act she was decapitated. Xi Wangmu shot a Ziodyne at him which he easily dodged before cleaving both her and Izanami into bits. With a swipe on his hands he vaporized their remains with Shine More.

Fear grew within Dagda as Nanashi hadn’t even fully regrown himself before Flynn slashed him into bits mercilessly. He knew Nanashi didn’t have many demons left to use and Flynn was killing all of them permanently. His slashes grew so fast all Dagda saw was a storm of blades. Before that he could count about 10000 strikes per millisecond, but now all he saw was a blur. He was killing Nanashi faster than he could revive him. Dadga had a hard time keeping track of if Nanashi was dead or alive since he died so fast.

Krishna was extremely pleased. While his kalki had broken free of his contract he was now completely embarrassing Nanashi and his forces which gave him no small amount of satisfaction. As well as having a front row seat to the true magnificence of his kalki. He was content to sit back and let his godslayer do the work in killing Nanashi. Of course, there was the obvious problem that he was no longer in control of Flynn, but he could fix that in time. For all he knows Flynn can go ahead and kill YHVH while he’s at it, then he can swoop in at the right time, steal control, and achieve salvation. So, yeah Krishna was pretty content sitting back and munching on imaginary popcorn while his kalki went berserk.

Dadga was sweating now as he was greatly drained by how many times he had to revive Nanashi in this fight alone. When he told his godslayer he could die as many times as he wanted he was joking. He never thought he would actually have to revive him this much consecutively against anyone besides YHVH. Dagda was a god, but even he had his limits. A limit he was dangerously close to hitting. Even his reserves weren’t infinite.

Nanashi hardly had a second to think before he was continuously violently torn apart by the man his more naive self once idolized. He had time to feel though. Absolute horror and terror. He had honestly thought he was up to Flynn’s level by now after all he’s killed many gods, demons, and angels at this point. Confident he could beat him if Krishna happened to seduce him to his cause like Dadga to him. Defeating his former friends and beating down Vishnu-Flynn only further bolstered his confidence that he was truly unbeatable. However, he now realized how completely wrong he was. He had never been anywhere near Flynn’s level. He was beating down Vishnu-Flynn because that fop with a flute was in control, not the true Flynn. He had his power no...not even all of that he swore when he sensed his magic power earlier it had nearly doubled. Though, that may be because how enraged Flynn currently was. His intense rage may be boosting his magic to ridiculous heights. Finally, his skill...was absolutely monstrous. He thought Isabeau and Gaston were pretty good, but this man was on a completely different dimension of skill from the both of them. He wasn’t exactly educated in such things, honestly he relied more on magic than anything, but he understood that he was kicking his ass worse than anything has in his whole life with freaking swords alone. He shuttered from deep within his soul with unparalleled fear. He wasn’t sure he could get out of this especially since he didn’t look like he was tiring. Tiring was an easy thing for someone like him to exploit. He was basically a zombie so he never got exhausted and Dadga healed his wounds upon death. Stamina and his immortality was his overwhelming advantage against everyone he faced. However, now he was honestly cursing it. This is what he imagined hell was like continuously dying infinitely and instantly with absolutely nothing he could do to get out of it. For an immortal like him this is exactly what hell was like. This was one of the best arguments against having immortality, endless suffering.

A deeper part of him...Akira shuttered in horror at the sight...no the very idea of Flynn’s rampage. What had he done to Ryou? He wasn’t like this. Ryou was always a kind, gentle soul. He was skilled, yes, but not to this...to such an inhuman degree. He remembered how Ryou would feel bad about even killing demons. He was a complete wreck after killing Kiyoharu and Kenji to stop their insane plans. He most certainly wasn’t ever the type to anger. He was more often than not a mediator between the more hot-headed members of the Counter-Demon Force. For such a kind, loving soul to be reduced to this blind bloodlusted demonic rage...It broke Akira’s heart to see his dear friend like this. Any sense of mercy and kindness was gone from the eyes of his incarnation replaced with anger and bloodlust. He still remembered the day he lost him. The day he sacrificed himself not unlike his current incarnation did to save Asahi. He knew then that he was truly his old friend reborn. But now that was all gone...Because of his own actions he turned Ryou into this monster before him. He unsealed Krishna who stole him away and merged with him. He made him completely snap by killing that girl Isabeau. He felt the worst chill down his spine when he heard Vishnu-Flynn start to chuckle. He was enjoying this?! The pure hearted self sacrificing idiot Ryou was enjoying this?!

“What the fuck have I done?”, Akira thought in complete horror from deep within Nanashi.

“Ryou! Ryou! Stop, please! Snap out of this! This isn’t you!”, Akira begged his voice cracking as he did so, knowing full well he couldn’t hear his begging.

No no someone had to stop him before he completely lost his humanity.

Flynn was beyond being enraged that word hardly encapsulated the fire he felt from within his soul. Even before all of this he had lost so many people close to him, his parents and Issachar. He still remembered the deep horror he felt when he realized...he killed his own mother without even realizing it. Once that guy apologized about not being able to help his parents his mind went completely blank. He killed every demon in his way without an ounce of mercy as he desperately searched for them. He didn’t know that one of the camazotzs was his mother. He didn’t know any of the demons in the forest were his fellow villagers at that point. When he found out he completely broke down. It was difficult to hide from the others he had to put on his own iron mask so they didn’t see him completely break down. He realized it when he finally found his father. He was still human, a bit mangled and in serious need of medical attention, but he was alive. But, then his hopes were completely dashed…

Flashback

It was after their first encounter with the black samurai, Lilith. Extreme relief entered his eyes when he saw one of the medics had his father. His fellows were off to themselves right now. He practically ran over to him when he saw him hope that his mother may be alive too bubbled up inside him. He didn’t expect his father. His strong, loving father to look absolutely terrified when he saw him. He was extremely confused when his father jumped back squirming away from the doctor when he saw him. That’s when he knew something was horribly wrong. He looked over his uniform checking for blood which may have spooked him. He gasped when he realized he had quite a lot on him. How did he not notice? He was just so focused he completely blotted out everything else.

“W-wait dad I can explain-“, He stuttered.

“S-stay away from me! Y-you turned into a-a m-monster like your mother did didn’t y-you?! Y-you here to finish me off!”, his father accused completely hysterical.

“M-my mother?! Mom...she….”, He muttered before he completely froze.

He pulled out a wooden sword guard shaped not unlike a flower from his pocket. It was badly worn, cracked, and had blood spattered on it. He recognized it as the one from the toy sword his mother made from him which he used to use to spar with Issachar. His mother may have disliked his friend, but she acknowledged that Flynn as a kid needed a friend to play with. Despite her distaste she made that toy sword full of love hoping he’d have lots of fun with it. He found it after he killed a demon which at the time confused him. He remembered the demon rushing up to him, but it wasn’t attacking strangely. He was too out of it though...when he fought he entered this state where he completely lost control over himself...He was just fighting blindly not thinking of anything else. He had no idea how it happened...it just did. He remembers coldly cutting down the demon that approached him without remorse. Thinking about it now he felt deeply sickened and revulsed by himself. Especially after realizing only now he was covered in blood. This feeling only worsened when he put two and two together.

That demon was his mother. He killed his mother.

He felt extremely lightheaded and nauseous now. His breathing became extremely heavy. His eyes widened at the realization.

“Ah! Ah!”, he gasped in complete horror.

He felt like he was about to have a panic attack as he clutched chest. He shook uncontrollably, hardly able to form coherent words as he imagined his mother’s warm smile. The doctor looked alarmed hearing the incoherent distressed noises he was making. For the first time he felt his soul wail. He completely collapsed on the ground. His father was right, he was a monster. He killed his own mother!

Flashback end

His father was deemed to be under demonic possession and had an exorcism performed on him which killed him. He wasn’t possessed, he was driven insane by seeing the woman he loved turn into a demon and thought the same thing happened to his son when he came over to him covered in blood! He killed Issachar too; he begged him to do so, but he didn’t want to lead his best friend to only suffer more. Then, Jonathan and Walter he knew they were dead from his illusionary Walter’s words. He still wishes he could have done something like awaken them from inside the beings that stole their bodies. However, he couldn’t they died as Lucifer and Merkabah twisted embodiments of their ideals. Isabeau...He didn’t kill her directly, but it was his fault she died. If he had woken up sooner rather than letting himself fall prey to Krishna’s illusion he could have saved her. No he should have never let himself be captured by the Divine Powers! He should have found another way to save Asahi and escape...Everything that has happened over these past few days, everyone who died because of the Divine Powers and Nanashi, they were all on his hands. H-he felt like he was close to snapping a morbid chuckle was coming from his lips as he tore Nanashi apart. Surely he didn’t deserve this even with the horrible things he’s done. He was just a kid, for all he knew that being that made him like this manipulated him into doing all this.

A deep part of Flynn...Ryou didn’t want to believe Akira would do something so horrible. Surely not? It had to be a mistake. Akira would never do something so heartless…right? But...Kiyoharu and Kenji did. They were his best friends since childhood he knew them so well yet they changed into something unrecognizable from their former selves. Then, they committed horrible atrocities for what they believed in before he struck them down himself. He personally saw through Flynn’s eyes the horrible words he would have created if he sided with them. Even that deep part of him didn’t seem sure of anything anymore. Nothing seemed to work. He remembers more than Flynn does. He remembers his past lives where he followed four different paths. He despised most of them except the third path, the neutral path which for some odd reason was going very differently in this cycle. He chose that third path again, but it seems like everything has only gotten worse for some reason. If Flynn didn’t wake up sooner then everything...everything he had fought for, sacrificed himself for would be gone. He knew more than Flynn, he could see Krishna’s memories; he knew the depravity of Dadga’s selfish plan. It was...Childish. He understood defeating YHVH, but that’s where it ended. Destroying the entire world, the world people had out there heart and soul into bettering and protecting just because you wanted the world to be ‘your’ ideal it was...beyond selfish. That plan spat on all the hard work and sacrifices humanity has made to better their world. Krishna wasn’t a saint either; he was nearly just as bad with his forced salvation plan. At least he had some love for humanity...even if it was twisted. But, Dadga’s plan was undoubtedly worse. This foolish god seriously believed that all a person needed was themselves. That’s completely wrong for a god of knowledge he sure didn’t know much. Humans were social creatures by nature; they needed each other to survive. No one is perfect and his world would be undoubtedly polluted by his own biases and cruel beliefs. Besides how was Ryou supposed to honestly believe that someone willing to sacrifice their allies and even the whole universe was going to be a more benevolent ruler than YHVH? He already was like YHVH, manipulating and sacrificing people for his own ends. They were exactly the same...It would be the same cruel world YHVH created just with a new face in control. It completely tore him up that Akira was actually a part of this depraved plan. He wanted to cling onto the idea he was manipulated and controlled but...He remembers destroying Tokyo he sacrificed himself for with his own hands alongside the angels. He remembers filling the world with demons and ruling over the hell on Earth he created. He remembers unmaking the world in a moment of weakness. He made these same horrible mistakes and he did those same horrible atrocities as the others. He had become the same if not worse than them.

Ryou still wanted to forgive, but he could hardly forgive even himself anymore. He felt bad for his current self; he was just as distressed and confused as he was, except he didn’t fully understand why. Despite his past lives memories being locked up he still had feelings and echoes of those lives within himself. From his law cycle he had obtained the ability to completely shut everything else out and focus on a singular goal no matter how depraved. His magic power had carried over and growled continuously stronger with every cycle. His inhuman level of sword skill was also for that life mostly from strangely after his death. After his death he became an angel for a confusing amount of time not even he was sure how long. Something that still deeply revulsed him. He remembers having a divine sword then YHVH gave him. Honestly, he didn’t remember the name, but honestly he just wanted to forget any of that happened. He became YHVH’s sword, cutting down anything that opposed him, even fellow messiahs for other worlds. He understood it was a long time, but he wasn’t sure how long than his ‘forgiving’ god shoved him back into the cycle he decided on as his punishment for saving Tokyo from his wrath as soon as he was done with him. Unbelievable...If there’s one being he truly hated it was YHVH. From his chaos cycle he gained the ability to completely give into his instincts and battle using instinct alone. Along with that rage he didn’t remember having. That alone has caused many troubles for the current Flynn especially what’s...currently transpiring. It even affected him. Making him go completely berserk at times if he felt really angry or got too into a battle. Without that cycle he would have never...Not even in his law cycle enjoyed hurting others. The king of Tokyo enjoyed a lot of things he disagreed with because he didn’t care. His heart had been turned rotten by Lucifer and he stopped caring about anyone, but himself. Honestly, his nihilism cycle didn’t contribute much, but his revulsion with his previous cycles unknowingly affected Flynn’s decision in that cycle to unmake the world. From his neutral cycle he combined his law cycle’s skill with his chaos cycle’s instinct to create a deadly combination in battle. He didn’t have as much time to refine his combat as his law cycle, but he still did improve it in the lifetime he had along with his magic like his other cycles. That first time he chose neutral was the happiest one that he hoped would stick; however, that hope was dashed when after a long and fulfilled life he woke back up at Lake Mikado again. However , that life influenced this Flynn to choose neutral again. He guessed he was still trapped because YHVH wasn’t done with him yet. He suspects YHVH wasn’t happy with him having an enjoyable cycle even if it wasn’t perfect. So, this time things changed he was prevented from removing the firmament and he was captured by the Divine Powers. Now, Akira was trying to destroy the world he once defended like he did. He could practically imagine YHVH laughing in his face while they killed each other.

“Please stop this Akira! We shouldn’t be fighting each other! Please forgive him Flynn! I know you’re hurting I can feel your pain! Please!”, Ryou begged, sobbing uncontrollably.

A less forgiving part of him couldn’t help but take pleasure in tearing Nanashi to shreds. He is the one who killed Isabeau, the last of his original prentice group. His heart hurt more than he expected when she was killed. He was the one who released Krishna and put him into this whole mess. He...He!

“Kill him! Kill him! Make him regret ruining things for us!”, that angered voice in his mind said which reminded him of the illusionary Walter.

#shin megami tensei #smt4 #smt4 apocalypse #flynn smt #issachar #walter smt #isabeau smt #jonathan smt #my crappy writing #avoiding some tags to prevent spoilers

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

Assassin For Hire 4

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+ only, smut to follow…

“What the hell happened?” You slammed the door of your apartment behind you. The sprint from the garage left you a little breathless. Steve paced around the living room, his hand running through his hair, while Bucky leaned against the fireplace mantel with with his arm crossed tightly over his chest.

“Bucky fired…”

“I didn’t actually shoot anybody!” Bucky threw his hands up.

“Bucky fired into in group of teenage kids!” Steve growled.

“That little punk…” Bucky stabbed an angry finger at the photo of Abruzzo on the coffee table. “And his goons were about to take that boy’s finger off with wire clippers. I took a shot that busted the tire rack. They were too stupid to think about why they suddenly had a dozen radials bouncing off their heads. It gave that kid a chance to run, so don’t bark at me.”

“Bucky,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You could have…”

“What? I could have missed? Come on, Steve!”

“You promised!”

“I did not shoot anyone!”

“Did you recognize the kid?” You physically stepped between them, interrupting the glares.

“No.” Bucky shook his head, still scowling. “I got pictures on the scope. We can pull them up.”

“I got shots today too.” You nodded, holding up your camera. “Sounds like we’ve got notes to compare. Did you guys eat? Because I’m starved.”

“You know we could always eat.” Bucky relaxed a little. He took the camera from you, popping out the memory card. He pressed his lips to your forehead before moving to the computer.

Looking over at Steve, you held out a hand in a silent plea to end the argument. His fingers intertwined with yours, but the frown never left his face. Finally, he gave a great sigh.

“We’ve got steaks in the fridge.” Steve pulled away. “I’ll throw them on the grill. You guys pull together the intel from today.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t want the day to end in a fight.

Over your meal, the three of you studied the players. The AI helped uncover the records of the members of Abruzzo’s gang. Evidence seemed to indicate he ran a local identity theft operation, dabbling in car theft and minor drug dealing.

You’d seen Sarah Jacobs swiping cards and her brother driving a car which was probably stolen, but otherwise there was yet to be any solid ties to Abruzzo.

“So,” Bucky pointed with his fork. “This Jacobs boy is a wrestler, plays baseball, has really good grades, has a cute girlfriend, takes care of his little sister, and still manages to have the time to run with a gang. I don’t buy it. There’s not enough time in the day.”

Steve huffed. “You managed to find time for trouble.”

“I didn’t do all those sports,” Bucky smirked around a mouth of food. “And my grades could have been better if I’d actually done homework.”

You chuckled. “I thought I read somewhere that you were a great student.”

“He was.” Steve reclined back, finishing his dinner. “Got mostly A’s.”

“And you didn’t do homework?”

“Naw.” Bucky shrugged with a sly smile. “Too interested in chasing skirts. When I wasn’t doing that I was keeping this one out of trouble.” He nudged Steve’s leg with his bare foot.

Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up and gathered the plates. You helped him clear the table. “Steve, I’ve got this. You cooked.”

He followed you into the kitchen, setting the plates in the sink. Steve pulled you into a close hug, burying his face in your hair. You rubbed your fingers into the tight muscles of his back. He sighed.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

He just made a noncommittal noise.

“Steve, come on... please.”

“Just been arguing with Ross today about our role. Seemed appropriate that while we’re sticking our noses into the crimes of a local thug, I’m in the car bickering with the Secretary of State that we have the good judgement to operate without oversight.”

“Sorry.” You squeezed him tighter. “I know how much you hate those discussions. I hate it even more that we’re putting you in an awkward position.”

“No.” He stood straighter. “I’m choosing to help.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you guys figure out what we’ll do tomorrow and then we’ll get ready for bed.” You lifted on your tip toes and kissed him briefly. “I’ll clean up.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He kissed you once more and went to join Bucky in front of the large monitor.

The three of you reviewed all of the people observed throughout the day to the best of your ability, utilizing technology beyond the reach of most governments. Unfortunately, any direct tie between Abruzzo and Sarah or her brother eluded you.

You woke late in the night, half sprawled over Steve’s back. He slept on his stomach, face buried in the pillow and legs tangled in the sheets. Rolling over, you found the other side of the bed cold and empty. Steve barely moved as you slipped out of bed.

Pulling on a worn-out oversized sweatshirt of Steve’s, you silently padded out of the bedroom. Bucky sat at the kitchen table in the dark, staring at the image on his laptop. Slumped back in his chair, scowl on his face, the harsh light made him look menacing.

“Hey.” You whispered.

He just sighed loudly.

“Can’t sleep.” It was a statement, an observation, not a question.

“Mind won’t shut off. Just going in circles.” Bucky muttered. “I’m not getting anywhere.”

You came closer, straddling his lap. His hands moved up your thighs, left hand cool enough to make you shiver. He’d been sitting still a long time. You traced your fingers over the crease in his brow, over his tense jaw, down to his touch his full lips.

“Tomorrow we’ll find out more.” You combed your fingers through his hair. “Tonight is there anything more you can do about it?”

His eyebrow quirked as he looked sideways at his rifle on the table.

You smiled. “Anything more that won’t get us in trouble or break a promise to Steve?”

“No.” Bucky sighed, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

Running your hands over his shoulders and down his back, you tugged at his t-shirt. He obediently lifted his arms as you pulled it over his head. Bucky cupped your face, lips covering yours in a slow kiss. Smiling against your lips, he let his hands fall to your thighs. Finding nothing beneath the sweatshirt, his smiled widened.

“You gonna help me get to sleep, Doll?”

“I was thinking about taking your mind off things for a while.” You nipped the sensitive skin under his ear and rocked your hips into him. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as he breathed out a deep sigh against your mouth.

“Damn, I love you.” Bucky sucked your bottom lip before standing with you in his arms. He carried you over to the sofa. In the dim light, he laid you down on the soft throw and pushed the sweats off his hips. His mouth, wet and hot, trailed down your neck. He bent lower to push up the old Brooklyn Dodgers sweatshirt, lips ghosting over your tummy to your breasts.

You pulled it off and ran your hands through his hair as his mouth pulled your nipple to a tight peak. A small whine escaped your throat. Bucky pulled one of your legs over his hip as he settled between your legs, his teeth raking over your throat. You moaned.

“Shhh,” Bucky breathed. “Stevie’s sleeping, beautiful.”

“Mm-hmm.” You sighed as he slid the length of his hard cock along your wet folds. The weight of his body anchoring you, flooding you with heat, made you want to melt into him. Strong arms held you close. Sinful mouth left wet trails along your sensitive flesh.

He kissed every coherent thought from mind. Tongue and teeth. Beautiful lips and delicious sighs. Bucky wanted drown you in slow, deep kisses. Want to drink you down.

You tipped your hips so the head of his cock nudged into your wet cunt. Bucky groaned, head burying into your neck. “So ready for me.” He lifted his head, hips barely rocking. “Holy shit, you amaze me.”

“Bucky.” You breathed, eyes locking, as he pushed into you. His mouth fell open, not pulling away from the intensity of your stare as he moved. The fullness. The heat. The pressure along electrified nerves. Bucky’s hand cupped your face, maintaining the deep gaze, as he pushed up on his elbow to move deeper, faster.

You wanted to weep it felt so good. Bucky look upon you with such love, such awe, that it drew tears to your eyes. “Love you.”

His lips captured the drop of wetness which slipped from the corner of your eye. You held him tighter, hips meeting his thrusts. Bucky moaned. Pulling you tight, feeling you shake. He lifted your leg higher over his hip, causing you to quake as his cock hit you just right.

“Doll,” He breathed against your ear. Your thigh quivered under his hand. You clenched around his cock. “Fuck, eh, yes. Love you, baby.” You came with choked moan, shaking beneath him, clinging to him. Bucky pumped deep, fingers digging into your thigh as he followed you over the edge. “Oh, oh, god. Fuck.” His moans were hot against your skin.

Relaxing, draped over your, Bucky eventually sighed and kissed your neck. “You’re too much.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re amazing.” He fell quiet, an unease of something from before sneaking in. “What?”

“Thank you.” He kissed you softly. “I know different, I do. But sometimes I fall into a dark spot. I guess I get caught up thinking that no one sees me as anything but a killer. Even little kids.”

“You’re more than a killer. You’re a punk.” Steve’s voice came from across the room.

Bucky’s head came up, a crooked smile on his face. “Sorry to wake you, Jerk.”

“S’Okay.” Steve yawned. “Just came in to hear that last. You coming back to bed to sleep or am I waking up all the way?”

You giggled silently. “Go back to sleep, Sweetheart. We’ll be right there.”

“Mm. Hurry.” Steve shuffled back to bed, eyes half closed.

“You okay now?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, Doll. I’m good. Let’s get cleaned up and get to bed before he hogs the whole mattress.”

TAGS:

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#stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #stucky fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic

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whitewolfandthefox · 4 years

Text

Call of the Wild Part 6

Summary: You meet the man who has been hunting shapeshifters

Words: 4.5k

Series Masterlist

Add yourself to my taglist!

A/N. Next part, lovelies! Please let me know what you think, reblogs and comments really help me find the motivation to write.

The Sorcerer

You woke slowly, your whole body feeling fuzzy, head hurting. You groaned, sitting up as you lifted a hand to your forehead. The smell of tepid water invaded your senses, forcing you the rest of the way awake. You cracked your eyes open and froze, mind refusing to connect the scene in front of you to where you thought you were supposed to be. Suddenly, your memories of the night before came back to you in a blinding rush.

Kiala coming to warn you, frantic packing, hearing the shouts outside your home, seeing Vissen leading a mob towards you. Friends and family calling for your death, shouting and chasing you. Pain from the blows rained down upon you, shifting, running, hiding, someone help me, please, help, help, help, I don’t want to die-

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, afraid of what would happen if you let yourself sink too deeply. Looking around, you took in your dark surroundings. You were in a small cell, bars forming one side of the room. There was a small bed and a chamber pot, a chair being the only other furniture in the dreary space. The floors were made out of cold stone, the same as the walls. Hearing footsteps echoing around the space, getting closer, you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall, staying as far away from the door as you could.

A group of men came into view, dressed in dark clothes and armour, except for one. The man in the middle was dressed in intricate robes, a dark maroon embroidered with black detailings along the sleeves and hems. He stared at you in interest. “This is it?” he asked.

Your upper lip twitched, upset at being called an it, though you didn’t move. A man pushed his way to the front. “Yes, m’Lord, this is the shapeshifter who has been terrorizing our town.”

Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl as you saw who the man was. Vissen.

“Good, good,” the first man said absently, tossing a small bag his way. “Here is the rest of your payment.”

Horror flooded you as you realized that Vissen had thrown you out of your home for money. A growl slipped out of your mouth at that, causing Vissen to blanche and the other man to smile.

“It does have teeth.” He gestured, and a guard threw your cell door open, the others rushing in. You were quickly apprehended, though you fought, squirming and trying to land blows to free yourself. It quickly ended with you hanging between two men, a third securing you against his chest as the man in maroon robes glided into the room. The man grabbed your face, turning it to examine your features. You growled at him, wrenching your face out of his grip and slamming your head into the nose of the guard restraining you, fighting to get free.

He laughed, a sharp unpleasant sound, ignoring the cursing of the man behind you. You winced as the guards tightened their grip on your arms, keeping you secure between them. Taking a step back, he looks you up and down, examining every inch. You shiver, his gaze is clinical, as if he doesn’t consider you worthy of feelings. At another gesture from him, you are dropped to the floor, pushing yourself away from the men as soon as you hit the ground.

The guards exit your cell, lingering in the hallway as the man seated himself on the chair. You shrunk against the wall, not liking the way his gaze rested on you. After a drawn out silence, he nodded to himself, relaxing back against his seat.

“Welcome to the new world, little creature.” The drawled nickname rankled you. “You have just become part of the research to further the survival of the human race. Not that you are one, of course.” He laughed, a bitter sound.

“You shapeshifters are the key to healing human diseases. With your regenerative powers and your accelerated healing, we could save thousands.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “If I could just figure out how you do it. But that’s why you are here, little creature, to help me discover just what it is that makes you tick.”

“You may call me Master Astarion, little creature, if you address me at all.” He stood as he said this approaching you. “I will teach you what we expect of you during your stay here, so that you will know to behave.”

“I will do no such thing, you bastard,” you hissed, struggling to your feet. The world spun around you as you tried to evade his grasp. His hand brushed you, causing your whole body to stiffen as a wave of burning heat swept through you. You dropped to the floor, writhing in pain at his feet, tears leaking out of your eyes. He crouched next to you, observing your actions with a clinical disinterest. As the fit subsided, your chest heaved with your desperate gasping, struggling to pull breath into your lungs.

Your screams split the air as he again brushed his hand over you, muttering something under his breath. Lacerations appeared on various parts of your body, skin and muscle splitting to allow the blood within your veins to spill forward, staining your dress and pooling on the cold stone beneath you. Astarion reached into his pocket, staring at you as your back arched off the floor, rigid with pain. It was like nothing you had ever felt, a burning that never ended, setting all of your nerves alight with fire.

“Stop, please, stop, it hurts,” you begged of the man - sorcerer? - who was inflicting this agony upon you.

“Shhh, I know,” he murmured, almost soothingly. You felt a hand brush down your cheek, but you were in too much pain to care. A pinch to your shoulder caused your eyes to fly open just in time to see the man produce a dagger from his pocket.

In one fluid motion, Astarion buried the dagger into your left shoulder, drawing a choked scream from your throat. Your body slumped, folding in on itself as pain shot out from your shoulder, overwhelming anything else in your body. Sobs wracked your body, breath catching in your throat as you choked on blood, reeling as you tried to deal with the pain surging through your body.

Distantly, you heard the man stand as he brushed his robes off. Stopping in the door, he turned to observe your fallen figure. “Rest up, little creature, I will be back for you soon.” With that he left, the door to your cell clanging shut behind him.

Curling in on yourself, you dissolved into silent tears, pain overshadowing every thought. Absently, you reached for the warm feeling inside of you associated with Geralt, wrapping yourself in the warmth and trying to forget your situation. As you fell into darkness, you thought you could smell Geralt’s distinctive musky scent, an earthy smell underwritten with the flavour of pine and sweat.

**~*~*~*~**

Busying himself with stripping and packing Yennefer’s tent, Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see Jaskier chasing Ciri across the clearing as her laughter filled the clearing. “Jaskier, are you and Ciri packed? We need to be ready to leave when Yenn gets back. You know how she is about waiting for you when you’ve been goofing off with Ciri and ignoring your tasks.”

Coming to a stop, Jaskier put his hands on his hips, and offered Geralt an offended look. “I am highly offended that you would even suggest that I wouldn’t finish packing before playing. “ He shushed Ciri as she came alongside him. “I am of course ready to go as soon as you are. Why, it's you and Yenn who are slowing us down!”

Geralt’s lips twitched as a black raven set down behind the bard, ignoring the continuous stream of protests coming from him.

“What about the clothes you have left to dry by the river? You are not bringing those?” Yennefer’s voice caused Jaskier to startle as she appeared behind him. Ciri giggled at her sudden appearance. “Seriously Jaskier, we’ve only been here a few days, how could you possibly have lost them already?

“My- what clothes?” Jaskier spluttered.

“We washed some of your doublets yesterday, Jask, don’t you remember? I was going to remind you, but you were too busy complaining.” At Ciri’s words Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, stalking away to retrieve his forgotten clothing, muttering under his breath about stupid Witchers and sorceresses.

“Did you find the keep, Yenn?” Geralt demanded, turning to the woman as she fixed her dress from her flight.

She looked up, meeting his gaze as she studied him. “I did. I think they have a new shapeshifter they are experimenting on; they brought someone into the keep late last night.” This revelation drew a growl from Geralt. “You have never been so invested before, Geralt. What changed?”

He said nothing as he continued staring at her before looking away. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that-”

He cut himself off as he staggered, hand flying to clutch at his left shoulder as pain shot through it, as if stabbed.

“Geralt!” Ciri was immediately at his side, supporting him as he regained his equilibrium, Yennefer also moving towards him.

“I’m ok, my shoulder just burned for a moment.” he reassured her, patting her shoulder as he stood, pulling back his tunic to look at his shoulder, marked with nothing but old scars. He raised his eyes to meet Yennefer’s gaze. She was looking at him with a perturbed expression on her face.

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his shoulder before hissing as she snatched her hand back as if burned. Stretching her fingers out, she examined them before looking back at her companions, both staring at her with confused expressions. “I felt someone else’s presence there, just for a moment. It felt almost like a…” she trailed off.

“A what, Yenn?” Ciri inquired, Geralt staring at her with an almost guilty expression on his face.

“Never mind, Ciri. I thought I felt something but I was wrong, it wasn’t what I thought. Would you mind going to help Jaskier collect his clothes? We need to leave soon.” She smiled gently at the girl as she sent her off after the bard before spinning and pinning Geralt with a glare.

“Geralt! I can’t believe you! Why would you leave that incomplete? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Geralt stared back at Yennefer with an unreadable gaze as she ranted at him. “You should know better! Of all the things you could have done, leaving that unfinished was the absolute worst choice! You could get seriously hurt if anything happened!”

“I didn’t know I had started one!” Geralt stalked away, tension radiating from his posture. “And I know the dangers, Yenn! I wouldn’t have left it unfinished, I would have…” he trailed off as Yennefer came to stand beside him, posture softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Geralt,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

**~*~*~*~**

You drifted on a haze of pain, never really surfacing, never going under. You could hear voices moving around as you felt yourself being shifted.

“Show me your other form and the pain will stop. Just change, I need to see your demon form, little creature.”

Sobbing, you shook your head.

The pain increased, back arching, nerves feeling as if they had been set alight.

You couldn’t give in.

The burning pain came again, screams tearing their way out of your throat, voice breaking. You remember pleading, no, please, don’t hurt me, I can’t give you what you want, I don’t know what you want, stopstopstopstop. Stop, I want to go home, please stop, please stop, let me go home, ithurtsithurtsithurts.

Geralt. Help.

Again you reached for that warmth, that string that you felt extending from you, cloaking yourself in its presence. You floated, trying to distance yourself from the pain, time passing as you sheltered within the presence.

“Just change, you little bitch! I need to see your shape shifter form!”

You could feel the knives, the pain, the warm blood pooling beneath your body as it cooled against the stone. Could feel the hands on your skin, in your skin, poking and prodding at you. Diving deep down, you curled your mind around your heart, hiding deep within yourself to escape the pain.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt fell to his knees, pain surging through him as Ciri cried out, Yennefer reaching for him, concern in her eyes, Jaskier frozen in place.

**~*~*~*~**

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness, your head spinning with blood loss. “It’s coming around, just give it another moment.”

Astarion’s face swam in your vision before solidifying, a sharp grin on his face. “There it is. Welcome back, little creature.”

You shot up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards until you hit the wall. Astarion was crouched in the middle of the room watching you, now dressed in dark pants and a loose grey tunic. He toyed with a dagger in his hand, the same one that he stabbed you with, you realized. Your hand came up to your shoulder, finding the wound scabbed over and tender to touch. Finding it mostly healed, you scrabbled at your arms, finding the same thing there, that the wounds that have been inflicted on you - hours? days? - before were sealed over, thin pink lines the only evidence they had ever been there.

“It’s quite remarkable isn’t it?” The words jolted you from your thoughts, pulling your attention back to the sorcerer. “A few days and you’re almost as good as new.”

“And just to think you disgusting creatures can heal like that. I don’t understand why your kind have been given this ability and my family had to die.” A sneer pulled his upper lip back from his teeth. “But that is no matter. Soon I will discover what your healing stems from and I will be able to share it with the rest of the human race. No one will have to die needlessly.”

As he said this, he approached you, dagger still in his hand. A tear ran down your face but you didn’t move, too tired to muster the energy. Astarion traced your features with the dagger, your eyes closing as another tear slid down your face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine specimen; you have healed exceptionally well, little creature. I will let you rest for now, I need to look over my notes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning, not to worry.”

Suddenly he struck, burying the dagger in your stomach. Your breath left you as if punched, body curling to protect yourselves from any other blows. At your actions, or lack thereof, Astarion frowned.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrowed, “I thought for sure that would make you change.”

With his last remark, he stood and left your cell, leaving you lying on the floor, shivers wracking your body as the blood cooled beneath you. You reached a shaky hand down to press it against your stomach, hissing when the blade sliced your palm. You lay there for what felt like hours as the blood slowed, scabs starting to form around the wound. You grasped the hilt, yanking it out as you muffled a scream into your shoulder, pressing as hard as you could with both hands.

As the heaviness pressed in closer, you could feel the familiar warmth consume you. You went to it willingly, felt the world shift. You opened your eyes to see the world with sharper sight, heaving yourself to a standing position and yelping at the pull in your abdomen. You nosed at your side gently, seeing blood still glistening in your fur; the skin underneath was intact, although irritated and tender.

Lifting your head, you surveyed the room. The coppery scent of blood was strong, tinged with a bitter something underneath, of what you weren’t sure. You wrinkled your nose at it, not liking the smell. You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the slippery stones beneath your paws, coated in your blood. Your wounds pulled, but the pain was bearable. You began exploring the room, limping towards the edge of the room as your left shoulder protested the action.

It was rundown, an old castle that hadn’t seen occupants in decades. You had explored the surrounding area as a child before someone disappeared, after which your town kept well away from it. You knew that some of the outer walls had started falling apart, and hoped that this one was one of them.

Snuffling along the edge of the floor, you caught a whiff of fresh air. Darting towards it, you found a small hole in the wall, enough to allow a breeze into the room. You wouldn’t have noticed it had your senses not been enhanced.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you would fit through that whole, it was far too small for you. Closing your eyes, you nudged at the hole half-heartedly, despairing that you were so close to escaping, but not able to.

As you pushed, you felt some of the wall give way, a rush of air and dust filling the space. You ducked your head, rubbing your eyes on your leg in an attempt to remove the dust from them before observing the space. Although still not big enough, it was closer to your size now. Your heart lifted slightly as you ducked your head to push at the stones again, using your front paws to push the excess material out of the way.

Suddenly, your head pushed through the opening into the forest, your eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. It was dark out, a waxing crescent moon hung high in the sky providing little to no illumination.

Pulling yourself back in, you pushed the rest of the material aside, widening the hole enough for your small body to fit through. As you were finishing the opening, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Shifting back, you slumped against the wall to hide the opening.

Vissen rounded the corner and stopped in front of your cell. You glared at him as you felt hatred bubbling up within you. This man was the reason you were here in the first place, his greed had driven him to do unspeakable things. He leered at you.

“Bet you are regretting rejecting me now, bitch.” Rage swept through you as you realized that he had done this as revenge. You schooled your features, the anger that was boiling within you threatening to spill over. “No words for me? I’m glad I didn’t take you as my wife now, a beast like you could never love anyone. You just maim and murder; I did the town a favour by ridding them of you.”

“You know nothing -” you cut yourself off, stopping your movement as you leaned towards him, hands itching to wrap around his throat.

“What do I not know?” he taunted.

When you didn’t respond, his smirk grew larger. Something sparked in his eyes. “Too tired to move, sweetheart?” Your skin crawled at his words. “Perhaps I will just have to help you.”

Moving slowly, he unlatched your cell, stalking towards where you sat motionless on the floor. Come a little bit closer, you bastard, and you’ll be able to help me so much more.

When he was within reach, you leapt, pulling at his arms, hands forcing him to the ground as you reached for this throat. In your weakened state, he quickly overcame you, rolling so that he was pinning you to the ground, hands on your shoulders, hot breath against your neck. “Even if you didn’t want me, I will still have you, my sweet.”

You squirmed as his hands roamed lower, tears burning in the back of your eyes. You fought desperately, reaching for the power within you, covering yourself with it like a blanket, body shrinking as you shifted. You sank your teeth into his hand, gripping as hard as you could, letting go when he started flailing, small body flying through the air to hit the wall. You yelped at the impact, pain flashing through you before you rolled to your feet, shaking your head to clear the fog.

He wailed, clutching his hand to his chest as he rolled to his knees. “You demon!” He froze as you regained your feet, a low growl rumbling out of your chest. “I’ll show you! Guards! Help! She’s changed, she’s - ack!”

At his words you leapt, aiming for his chest. Your weight knocked him to the ground, landing on his chest as you snarled, lips pulled back from your teeth. As Vissen flailed, you jumped forward and ripped his throat out with your teeth. The man slowly went still, gurgling as his death rattle left his chest.

You rolled off his body, going still as you stared at the man choking on his blood. You had killed someone. I didn’t mean to! Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Staggering to the side, your front legs collapsed as you retched, trying to rid yourself of the taste in your mouth.

Horrified at what you did, you backed away, eyes not leaving the body of the man you once knew. You could hear the shouts and footsteps getting closer. You turned, rushing towards the hole you had made, slipping out of it and disappearing into the night, the sounds of men rising behind you as the body was discovered and a search party organized. As you ran, you tried to forget the taste of copper on your tongue, forget the body you were leaving behind.

**~*~*~*~**

After Geralt had collapsed, Yennefer had insisted that they stop for the night. Geralt had protested at first, but gave in as more waves of pain washed over him. Jaskier had motherhenned the larger man for the rest of the evening, Ciri tucked into his side. Every once in a while Geralt would flinch, and Yennefer would stare at him with a knowing look. Geralt wouldn’t say anything, just staring back, a challenge in his face.

Once Jaskier and Ciri had fallen asleep, Yennefer gestured at Geralt, the two of them standing and moving a little farther from their fire.

“What’s her name?” Yennefer fixes him with a piercing look that said he better tell her what was going on or he wouldn’t like the consequences.

Geralt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Y/N.” His voice was pained, expression tight. “She was a healer that found me in the woods. I had been injured, ambushed by a monster, and when she healed me, she had a conduit moment. I stayed a few days to help her learn more about our kind.”

Yennefer stayed silent, marvelling at the softness that had crept into her companion’s eyes as he spoke. “She was kind, didn’t judge me for being a Witcher or for being a shapeshifter, even before she knew she was one. It was easy with her, it felt right to be with her.” He turned to Yennefer. “It wasn’t intentional, I just… It just happened.”

“You need to go find her.” Geralt started at Yennefer’s words. “This could harm both of you and something has clearly happened, I’ve seen you flinching all day. Don’t argue with me, Geralt.” She held a hand up as he opened his mouth to protest. “I need you at your best and you aren’t while you’re separated.”

His body slumped, a sigh escaping from between his lips. “Okay.” His response was quiet. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Yennefer was surprised; she had expected Geralt to have put up more of a fight on this. This girl really was something if she could make Geralt listen, even when not present. “We will go tomorrow. We are not separating, Geralt, not this close to the sorcerer. I will not risk any of us.”

Geralt nodded as she turned back towards their camp. He followed her to the fire, laying down on his bedroll as his thoughts turned to you. Your face and voice filled his dreams that night; he could hear you calling out to him. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, Jaskier and Ciri were confused when Yennefer told them they were making a stop before they went to the keep where the sorcerer had been hiding, but quickly fell into step when she mentioned something about another shapeshifter. Geralt was even quieter than normal as they travelled, growing more tense the closer they got to their destination.

When Jaskier started singing, trying to amuse Ciri and annoy Yennefer, Geralt snapped at him to be quiet. When Ciri asked to ride with Geralt on Roach he pulled her up, but only grunted at her questions rather than answering them as he usually did. Realizing the severity of the matter, both Ciri and Jaskier fell quiet, their conversations subdued as they travelled.

It was dark when they arrived, the small pack finally turning a corner to see a little house set back in the woods. Geralt was flinching at anything that spooked him, Roach nervous beneath him, having picked up on her master’s emotions. Reaching the gate, he quickly dismounted, shoulders relaxing as the house appeared to be untouched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached the door, knocking gently to alert you to his presence. “Y/N? It’s me, I’m back.”

“Y/N?” Jaskier whispered, turning to Yennefer. “Who is that?” Ciri popped her head out from behind him, curious as to the answer to her counterpart’s question.

As Yennefer opened her mouth to answer, they heard the sound of a body against wood, the door breaking beneath Geralt’s shoulder as he forced entry to the house, disappearing through the entrance. His three companions quickly ran after him, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Geralt. He was standing motionless in the middle of the trashed room, looking down at something in his hands. Tables and chairs were upturned, books scattered across the floor,

He turned slowly to look at them, a dagger that they recognized as the twin to his own held in his hands. His face was emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. His golden eyes were full of anguish, a storm of horror and guilt washing through them.

“Geralt?” Yennefer took a hesitant step forward, hand reaching out to do what, she wasn’t sure.

Geralt slowly sunk to the floor, staring at the dagger cradled gently in his hands. At the sound of Yennefer approaching, he lifted his head, face filled with fear.

“She’s gone.”

**~*~*~*~**

Like always, I super appreciate comments and reblogs, they keep me going! Add yourself to my taglist here!

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get-your-fics · 4 years

Text

Suburbia - Part Three

Playing Games

Summary: You have the seemingly perfect life, with the perfect house and the perfect husband. But the illusion threatens to be unraveled when you start to have strange but familiar nightmares.

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Series warnings: Smut, dub-con/non-con, breeding kink, sex pollen, blood, violence

PART TWO

You were running again.

The undead creatures were hot on your trail, hissing and snarling and growling like animals. The same one lunged at you again, but you easily evaded its attack and threw it backwards as if it was second nature for you. You sprinted towards the bright light in front of you, glowing like the light at the end of the tunnel. You kept your focus straight ahead, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You expected the dream to end as you drew closer, but it continued on. You stepped into the light, and the doors slid closed behind you with a mechanical whoosh, locking the monsters out on the other side. You doubled over with your hands on your knees, desperately trying to catch your breath. When you stood up, you saw that you were in a completely white hallway that seemed to stretch on and on forever in front of you.

Next thing you knew, men in white lab coats were on you in a second, poking and prodding at you with advanced technological devices. “Sir, subject 107 has completed the test.”

You heard the thud of solid boots and looked up as another man entered your field of vision. His broad shoulders and large, well-built frame intimidated you. He stood out in the white hallway clad in all black. A pair of dark sunglasses concealed his eyes, but besides that, his face was a blur. Whoever he was, he exuded an air of smug confidence and authority.

“By running away like a coward,” the man said. His voice was low and gruff.

“I’m done playing your game.” You barely recognized the voice as your own, bitter with a hardened edge to it. It felt like the words weren’t coming from you at all.

The man laughed, sending chills down your spine that made you visibly shiver. “You’re not done until I say you are.” He turned his back on you. “Take her back to her holding cell.”

Two of the lab coats grabbed onto each of your arms and started dragging you away. You grit your teeth and jerked against their hands on you. You shook one of them off, sending him flying into the wall. He hit it with a resounding bang, his neck breaking with an audible snap. You kicked the other one in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. He slid down it and crumpled into a lifeless heap.

Once freed, you barred your teeth and ran at the man in black. You jumped on his back and started scratching at him with all your might. He reached behind him without looking, and you felt a sharp prick in your neck as he stabbed you with a needle. Almost immediately, all the strength left your limbs. You slipped off his back and landed onto the floor.

Your vision grew fuzzier, and the world swirled around you in a blur of black and white. The last thing you saw was the man in black leaning over you. “We’re going to have so much fun together, you and I,” he whispered before everything faded to black.

You gasped as you sat up straight in bed. You clutched your chest as you hyperventilated. Your hand absentmindedly fluttered to your neck where you had been injected in the nightmare. You felt like you could still feel the sharp sting as the needle entered your flesh.

There was a shift in weight on the bed beside you, and the covers rustled as they were drawn back. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Your husband’s arms wrapped around you and pulled you back against his chest. When you still didn’t respond, he cupped your face in his hands and forced you to look at him. “Sweetie, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

You stared into his eyes. They were so full of caring and concern. “I... I had another nightmare,” you stuttered. “But this time, it was different.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“After running away from the creatures, I was in this hallway.” You took a pause to suck in a breath. “There were these scientists, and this man. I couldn’t see his face, but he was dressed in all black.” You felt tears well in your eyes as the nightmare came back to you in full detail. “I think they were experimenting on me.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he spoke soothingly. He carded a hand through your hair and rocked you back and forth. “It was just a dream. It’s not real.”

“But it felt real.” You pushed away from him. “These aren’t nightmares. They’re real things that happened to me, I know it. I don’t know why I can’t remember, but I think talking to Alice and Rain yesterday unlocked something in my memory,” you urged. “I know how this sounds, but you have to believe me.”

“No, I don’t think you do know how this sounds,” Albert sneered at you. He stood up, towering over you. “Don’t you realize how crazy you’re acting? Undead monsters? Experimental tests?” he said incredulously. “You’re letting your imagination run rampant. They’re just dreams - nothing more, nothing less." He shook his head at you disapprovingly. "I don’t know who you are, but you’re not acting like the woman I married right now.”

You felt your heart sink in your chest. Hearing it all out loud did make you realize how absurd you sounded. “Albert, I’m sorry.”

“I have to get ready for work.” He turned his back on you and walked into the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, shrouding you in darkness.

You listened to him clomp around behind you, from the bedroom to his office to the bedroom again as you painted your nails red in the bathroom. Finally, he stopped his clomping and appeared behind you in the mirror wearing a wide grin.

“I’m heading off to work now.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. “Be a good girl for me while I’m gone, okay?”

You smiled back at him. “I always am.”

His smile only grew. “I know.” He gave your shoulder a gentle pat before leaving, briefcase in hand. The smile slipped from your face the second he was out of sight.

You finished painting your nails and heard the muffled rev of a car engine starting up. The garage door opened and closed, and the noise of the engine faded down the street. You capped the nail polish and gripped the edge of the sink until your knuckles turned white.

You stared at your reflection so hard you thought you would burn a hole through your mirror image. You let your gaze rake over your hair, your facial features, the flimsy nightgown covering your body, the flawless skin of your collarbone where there should be puncture wounds. You looked back up at your eyes. They seemed dark and void of light. Was there even anything behind them? Did you have a soul? Or was none of these real? Was this all some illusion, some fantasy you concocted for yourself that you only woke from when you were sleeping? You swore the mirror would shatter under the heavy weight of your contemplative gaze.

You pushed off of the sink. You had made up your mind. You wanted answers.

You walked out into the hall to the mystery door. Without hesitation, you jiggled the doorknob. It was still locked. Growing frustrated, you cried out and kicked at it. You stared in shock as the force of your kick broke the lock, and the door swung open on its hinges with ease. You leaned inside the dark room and felt along the wall for a light switch. You found it and flicked it on. You winced and blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted to light flooding the room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Something sinister, maybe. But definitely not whatever this was.

You stepped inside. The walls were painted a pale yellow, and the carpeted floor was plush under your bare feet. You walked over to the solid, white dresser with a mirror above it. You reached out for one of the many plushies lined atop it and squished its soft center. Continuing your perusal of the room, there was a hamper in the corner and a bookshelf stocked full of books. You picked one up and flipped through it. They were all children’s books. You put it back and moved on. On the other side of the room was a toy box and a rocking chair next to a crib, and a changing station...

It was a nursery.

You didn’t know how to react. There was nothing overtly nefarious about the room. It was rather normal, and yet there was something off and fake about it that sent chills down your spine. What was inside this room didn’t give you any answers. If anything, it only raised more questions.

You left the room and walked across the hall to the door of Albert’s office. You tried it, and it was locked. You kicked it like you did with the other one, and it caved in. You walked inside and switched on the light, the lamp by his desk flickering to life.

His office was ordinary. There was a long bookshelf along one wall, and a large, oak desk on the other side. You ran over to it and practically ransacked it. You pulled out the drawers and dumped them onto the ground. You sifted through the piles of papers on his desk top, searching for something, anything, that would give you some clue as to what was going on. But all you found were work reports, transcripts from meetings, bills, receipts, budgets, grocery lists. You looked through the files on his computer. Surprisingly, it didn’t require a password to access. It was more of the same, excel sheets and emails between employees.

You sat back in the middle of the room surrounded by the mess you had made. Maybe you really were losing it. You were so sure something larger was at play here, and yet all you had found was a nursery and an office. Albert had probably just finished renovating the former and planned to surprised you, which was why he had kept it behind closed doors - literally. You must have hallucinated cutting off your fingers. All this time inside wasn’t doing you any good. Maybe when Albert got back, you would ask him to take you on vacation somewhere, get away from the hum drum of day to day life. Or maybe he had the right idea, and a baby would eat up more of your free time.

You rose from the ground with a sigh and started putting everything back in its rightful place. You were finishing shuffling the papers on his desk when your hand accidentally knocked over a bronze statue of a doberman pincher. A rumbling came from behind you, and you turned around to see the bookcase split in the middle and slide apart to reveal a hidden part of the room.

You slowly stalked forward. When you stepped inside, the room illuminated with a garish and fluorescent glow. It looked to be some sort of lab, tubes filled with electric green and blue liquid lining the white walls. You padded across the cold, tiled floors to a desk. Above it were several televisions displaying surveillance footage from multiple places inside your house - the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and even the nursery.

On the desk were various manila folders marked confidential in big, red letters. Each one had a red and white insignia with ‘Umbrella Corp’ printed underneath. You spotted one labeled ‘Subject 107’ and flipped it open. Your eyes scanned over the words in neat, black typewriting font:

”Subject 107, otherwise known as (Y/N) (Y/L/N), was successfully injected with the T-virus. Her cells bonded with the virus, granting her superhuman abilities such as advanced strength, speed, and regenerative healing. Unlike Project W, 107 does not require regulated doses of the anti-virus in order to keep her levels in check. Instead, her antibodies mutated of their own accord to balance out the amount of T-virus infecting her cells. It is not completely certain why this is, although test results show that her genetic DNA may be what makes her an ideal host for the T-virus.”

You reread the paragraph over and over before closing the folder. You picked up another one and searched through its contents. There was a calendar that looked normal enough, but upon closer inspection, appeared to be keeping track of your menstrual cycle. You moved to the next file; it was a list of every meal you ate throughout the day. You came across a stack of printed out reports that documented your time in the house. You skimmed through them, a sentence or a note catching your attention every now and then:

“Subject is responding well to the fertility treatment, however, still has not been able to conceive.”

“Subject has been describing reoccurring ‘nightmares’ that depict scenarios similar to tests she endured in the past. This could be a side effect of the memory erasure.”

And, the most recent, written and printed out mere hours ago:

“Subject’s nightmares have further developed. I believe this was caused by conversing with the Alice and Rain clones from yesterday. It seems her repressed memories are appearing in her dreams. If this continues and the subject becomes suspicious, we should consider enacting the contingency plan before the situation gets out of hand.”

You dropped the folder on the desk as if it had burned you. You turned your attention to the computer. Unfortunately, this one did need a password to access it. You tried several phrases you had read in the files, such as ‘subject107’ or ‘projectw’ or ‘umbrellacorp,’ but none of them worked. You chewed on your bottom lip in thought as you blinked at the bright screen. The keys clacked under your fingers as you typed in ‘(y/n)(y/l/n)’ and hit enter.

It took a second before the computer loaded to a plain, red background. There were several folders scattered all across the desktop containing what you were sure were varying levels of important information. But one folder in particular called ‘Project Eden’ caught your eye. You clicked on it, bringing up several video files. You scrolled through them and chose one titled ‘Trial 017.’

The window popped up. You made it full screen and pressed play. It looked like footage from a security camera high up in the corner of a room. It was all white, the only furniture in the room a bed with a metal frame bolted down to the floor. You squinted at the screen. You could barely make out a figure in the bed, and your eyes widened in shock when you realized the figure was in fact you.

You were wearing a hospital gown, and your wrists and ankles were strapped down to the bed. You hardly recognized yourself. Your hair was matted and mussed, dark circles hung under your eyes, and reddish-purple bruises decorated your skin. The door to the room swung open, and four men in lab coats followed by the man in black stormed into the room.

“Hold her down,” the man in black boomed. Your heart stopped beating when you took in his facial features for the first time. Even with his sunglasses on, you knew who it was.

It was Albert.

The men grabbed onto your arms and legs as you started to thrash. Albert produced a syringe full of a clear liquid and held it up threateningly, the sharp point of the needle glinting in the light. “Hold still. This will only hurt a little bit.”

You reared back and spat in his face. “Fuck you, Wesker!”

He didn’t even flinch. He merely lifted his gloved hand and wiped away your spit in one swipe. “Struggling will only make this more painful for you, (Y/N).” His voice sounded so unfamiliar, so unlike him. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You sat up and bit into one of the men’s arm, ripping out a chunk of flesh with nothing but your teeth. He screamed and let go, clutching his wounded arm in horror as blood stained his white lab coat. You cried out in anguish as you broke free from your restraints. You leapt onto one of the men, snapping his neck with a twist of your hands. You released him, and his head hung limp at an unnatural angle.

Wesker sighed. “The hard way it is.”

He grabbed you by your collar and jerked you back against his chest. He snaked his arm around your waist as he injected you with the foreign substance. You grimaced and clawed at his grip on you helplessly. “Get out of here. Now,” he hissed at the men.

They instantly scurried away like rats towards the door, dragging the corpse of their colleague along with them. Once they were gone, he threw you on the ground and scrambled on top of you. “Get off of me!” you whined, but your defiance was weakening. “Get off...”

You tried to crawl away from him, but he pulled you back with ease. He flipped up your skirt, and you were disgusted to see that you were bare underneath the hospital gown. He unzipped his pants and took out his hardening cock. He held you in place as he gave himself a few strokes. He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed into you fully with one thrust.

You let out a high-pitched wail as he didn’t hold back, slamming into you at an inhuman pace. You fought back at first, but as time dragged on, you watched as your face contorted into an expression of pleasure. Your pained grunts morphed into moans, and you rocked your hips back against him desperately, beads of sweat dripping down your forehead.

Wesker chuckled darkly above you. “That’s right. Stop resisting and let go.” He wrapped his fingers around your neck. A strangled moan escaped your throat as he tightened his grip, your irises now mere rims around your blown out pupils. “I told you we would have fun together. We’re going to change the world.”

You hit pause on the video. You couldn’t handle seeing anymore. You inhaled a shaky breath. Memories came flooding back like a dam had broke in your brain, of you locked up in that room, no way of telling time, of scientists running experiments on you and treating you like a lab rat, of being subjected to tests with those horrid creatures, of Wesker torturing and abusing you relentlessly. You felt a drop hit your cheek, and you touched it with your finger. You hadn’t even comprehended the tears starting to leak from your eyes.

“So, you finally figured it out.”

You whirled around to see Wesker standing behind you. He looked exactly as he did in the video, as he had in your nightmare, dressed in all black leather with a pair of shades covering his eyes. You hadn’t even heard him pull into the garage or his usually heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs.

“I have to say, I’m proud of you,” the corners of his lips curled into a sinister smirk, “but you just got yourself into a world of trouble.”

PART FOUR

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dark!fic

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margoshansons · 5 years

Text

Desperate Measures 3/?

Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: After helping a little girl get over her nightmares, Y/N gets caught in a nasty bout of acid fog with the one person she can’t stand.

Warnings: angst, nightmares, swearing, violence, gore, survivor’s guilt, depression.

Notes: This was a tough one to write, ngl. Based on 1x03 “Earth Kills”

When she slept she saw only nightmares. Visions of another life she must’ve had, despite her scientific background claiming it was all bullshit. There was no other way to describe it.

This last one had been particularly bad.

A woman burning at the Stake, claiming she could save hundreds of lives. It was the same voice that had plagued her dreams since she was five years old. The same voice that whispered too many people. The same voice that had driven her mother mad while she waited in her cell during the weeks leading to her floating.

She couldn’t fall back asleep.

That last nightmare had felt too real. As if she was the one burning up into the skies instead of the unknown woman she saw every night. Jasper’s moans drew her from her thoughts and she gathered her jacket, ready to help in any way possible. The dropship was too full of sleeping prisoners to work on Monty’s radio, so instead, she moved outside, sitting next to a grove of trees, watching the stars twinkle above her as she counted the constellations.

A twig snapped behind her, revealing the existence of the only twelve-year-old in camp.

“Hi” Y/N smiled softly, meeting the girl’s anxious gaze. “Charlotte right?”

She nodded. The older delinquent patted the patch of grass beside her. “Come on and join me.”

Charlotte sat next to the eighteen-year-old, scratching at her legs nervously as silence enveloped the two of them.

“I couldn’t sleep” Charlotte confessed after several minutes of silence, “So I went out on a walk, I didn’t--I didn’t realize I was outside the wall until it was too late. Please don’t tell Bellamy, please.”

Y/N stared at the younger girl, a wild smirk crossing her face as she leaned in close. “Your secret’s safe with me. Why can’t you sleep?”

“I uh, I have nightmares” Charlotte admitted, “My parents got floated and I--uh I just can’t sleep.”

Pain shot through Y/N’s heart. She had been younger than Charlotte when she lost her own mother, and those memories found a way into her dreams as well.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Y/N whispered, “But can I let you in on a little secret?”

Charlotte nodded, apprehension strewn across her face.

“I get nightmares too” She admitted, making Charlotte the third person to know about her terrors. “That’s why I’m out here tonight.”

Awe crossed the little girl’s face, “You get nightmares? But you’re so strong.”

Y/N laughed lightly at the compliment. “I’m not, I’m just good at getting over them.”

“How?”

She licked her lips, biting her cheek as she debated sharing her strategy with this little girl. Instead, she chose an easier route. “Easy, you find someone to talk to about them.”

“But…” Her face fell. “I don’t have anybody.”

Y/N brushed a strand of hair away from the girl’s forehead, “You have me, and Clarke, and Wells, and Octavia, and everyone in this camp on your side Charlotte. They all wanna help you.”

“Really?” Her bright blue eyes were still fearful as if she didn’t actually believe anything Y/N had been saying up to this point.

She nodded, and the two stayed there the rest of the night until Charlotte fell asleep in her arms. Y/N continued to stare up at the stars, wanting nothing more than a blissful sleep. But Jasper’s moans kept her awake, and Bellamy’s stare provided another distraction as he left the dropship that morning.

She wouldn’t deny that he was attractive, but that was where her admiration ended for him. To her, he was a nuisance, a problem getting in the way of her and Clarke from taking care of the rest of the camp. The sun began to peek over the trees, clouds joining the yellow orb, marking the second sunrise in a row she had seen on Earth.

It was gorgeous.

Marcus would appreciate this. He grew up on stories about the Earth, the same as she did. So why does it seem like they’ve lost hope? Her gaze hung on the last star glistening in the morning sky, sending a prayer up to the Ark, hoping her dad was listening.

Her eyes drifted closed, hoping the action would lull her back to sleep, curing the tiredness she felt.

“Hey,” Bellamy’s gruff voice interjected her sleeping time. “We’re going hunting.”

Y/N stretched, a yawn escaping her as she slowly removed her arm surrounding Charlotte. “Sure, what do you need?”

His smile looked out of place, “an extra weapon.” He tossed her a spear, the handle barely avoiding hitting the poor girl. She arched an eyebrow.

“You do know that I suck at combat right?” she double-checked, making sure she didn’t wake up in an alternate dimension where Bellamy Blake was actually being nice to her.

Instead, he laughed. Laughed. Yep, definitely alternate dimension.

“You handled yourself with the panther, I think you can handle a few rabbits and squirrels.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the ground with her hands. Bellamy turned to leave, Y/N sending one last look at the sleeping girl before joining him outside the wall.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, creeping through the stalks of grass. “Being so nice to me?”

Bellamy paused before announcing his intentions, “Think of it as a thank you for saving my life kind of gift.”

Y/N smirked, hiding the chuckle behind her wall, which had become more glass than steel over the past few days.

“And as much as I hate to admit it” He began, gaze staring directly at her sunlit face, “You’re the smartest person in camp. We need your brain.”

She froze, throwing a playful look of victory at the older leader, “Was that a compliment I detected Bellamy Blake?”

“Shut up, I already want to take it back.” He threw back, their gaze meeting one more time before a scream launched them out of the moment. The two leaders looked at each other before running in the direction of the sound, boots stampeding against the ground.

Y/N tossed the spear downward when she saw who it was.

“Charlotte” She moved closer, raising her voice, “What are you doing here, we could’ve killed you!”

The girl trembled from the scolding. “I had--I had another nightmare, I woke up and you were gone so I went to find you and--”

Y/N pulled the girl close, hand running through the braids in her hair, soothing the girl until she was back to normal. “Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.” She broke away momentarily, tilting her chin down to meet the girl’s frightened gaze, “Did you wanna talk about it?”

Charlotte’s gaze shot around, eyeing Bellamy and Atom before softly shaking her head. Y/N understood, whispering, “Alright, maybe later then.”

“She needs to get back to camp” Strict Bellamy was back, a far cry from the easygoing leader she had spent the last few hours with. Unfortunately, Y/N had to agree.

“No please,” Charlotte begged, not wanting to let go of Y/N at all.

“It’s not safe out here Charlotte” Bellamy warned, a glimpse of his softer side showing through.

Atom chimed in patronizingly, “Especially for little girls.”

“I’m not little” she shot back, grasping onto Y/N’s hand for strength.

Bellamy bit his lip, a ghost of a smile on his lips. His gaze flickered between the two of them, before handing Charlotte his makeshift knife, grabbing the spear Y/N had dropped earlier.

“You ever killed something Charlotte?” He asked, eyes flashing with worry.

She shook her head.

“Who knows,” Bellamy began to joke, shrugging his shoulders, “You may be good at it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his antics, encouraging a twelve-year-old to commit murder her first time on the ground. She brandished her knife, ready to continue on their trail until a bellowing sound tore them away from their goal.

“What was that?” Jones asked, fear crossing his face. Birds flew past them at light speed, almost as if they were running away. She could only stare behind her, a swirling cloud of yellow and orange smoke making its way toward them, insects crawling over her feet in a futile attempt to survive.

“Something’s wrong,” She whispered reverently, eyes widening as the fog grew closer, “Run! Run now!”

They wasted no time, crossing the plains as fast as their feet could carry them, Y/N dragging Charlotte behind her, refusing to let her grip up even for a moment. The fog grazed against her hand, a prickling sensation transitioning into excruciating burns.

Acid fog, she realized.

She sped up her pace, searching frantically for a place to take cover. At any time the fog could be upon them at any time they could be suffering from burns beyond their imagination.

She found refuge in a cave, Bellamy coming in close behind her, ready to jump out at the sound of Atom’s voice.

“Bellamy!” He moaned.

“Atom!” Bellamy called, ready to run into the fog at the sound of his friend’s cry.

Y/N caught his arm, pulling him back into the cave, “Bellamy no! There’s nothing we can do unless you want to die of chemical burns.”

His eyes were rimmed in red as they stared her down, turning his head back toward the acid covered forest where Atom lay dying.

His breathing grew shallow, sniffing until he nodded reluctantly, the three delinquents settling in for the night as they prepared to wait out the fog.

And then it suddenly dawned on her. She was stuck in a cave for god knows how long surrounded by killer fog on a planet that could kill them. And somehow that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that she was stuck with Bellamy Blake.

“Y/N?” Charlotte’s voice echoed in the cave as night fell. “I’d like to talk about my nightmare now if that’s okay.”

She settled in against the rocks, sending a glance at Bellamy’s sleeping figure before moving closer so Charlotte didn’t have to worry about being judged. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”

The little girl inhaled before dropping what had been bothering her since day one. “I see--I see my parents dying.” Sobs threatened to escape, face contorting in pain, “And then I see his face, and--and he sends me down with them.”

Y/N pulled the girl closer, arms wrapping around her as Charlotte sobbed into her shoulder. “Hey, shhh, you’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.” She rubbed her hand up and down the poor girl’s shoulder, shutting her eyes. “I see my parents too.” She admitted, whispering the confession in her hair. She recalled Kane’s regretful face as he told Shumway to press the button. Didn’t even have the decency to do it himself.

“But it’ll all be over soon, I promise.” Charlotte nodded before floating to sleep in her arms, the girl stirring only during her dreams.

Y/N stood up, waiting to take watch. She couldn’t fall asleep. Not when that woman’s screams awaited her.

“You should get some rest” Bellamy’s rough voice murmured from the other side of the cave.

Flashes of her night terrors crossed her brain and she shook her head, “I’ll uh, I’ll rest when we get back to camp.”

“Sparky,” The nickname sounded unfamiliar in his mouth, “I can see the circles under your eyes, you’re practically asleep already.”

She shook her head, refusing to be that vulnerable with a man who had done nothing but torment her since she got to the ground. “You look just as bad as I do.” She shot back, eliciting a chuckle from the kid. “What do you know?” She whispered, a smile stretching across her face, “Looks like he has a heart after all.”

Bellamy met her gaze, half-smile across his face, brown eyes softening as the fog passed over them. “I always had a heart, I just don’t show it all the time.”

She nodded, recalling another phrase from her dreams, “Love is weakness. I guess that’s another thing we have in common.” She turned her gaze away toward the sleeping child, making sure Charlotte remained still.

Love was death. Attachment was death.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around his knees, “Oh yeah? What’s the other thing?” His tone was playful, her answer anything but.

She met his gaze, uttering the words she had been dying to say to him since he had insulted her their first night on the ground, “We’re both orphans, aren’t we?”

Silence met her words, relief flooding from her shoulders as her stomach untwisted itself.

Tension coated the cave, encircling the two in a bubble as Bellamy fidgeted under her gaze. It had felt so good to finally say it aloud. To finally tell him what had hurt all those nights ago.

“Y/N I had no idea--”

“That Kane wasn’t my biological father?” She continued to shove his mistake in his face, unsure why she was unloading all this onto him. “That I’ve been parentless since age five? Both of them floated? Yeah, why would you?”

She turned away, her malicious tone hanging in the air as she drifted off to sleep, the hard rock more comfortable than any tent she had slept in so far.

***

Bellamy shook the older girl awake, guilt wracking his body as he did it. If he had known. If he had reached out before making stupid assumptions--

No. She said it herself. Emotion is weakness. Love is weakness.

It was better this way.

This way they both survived.

“Franco,” He used her last name, a sick feeling entering his stomach at the idea of using her given name after the fiasco last night. “Franco wake up!”

She jolted upright, as if someone had pushed her through to the other side. Her breathing was small, shallow, and her chest heaved as her eyes flitted between Charlotte and Bellamy’s locked gazes, fear flashing by so fast he swore he imagined it.

“Come on, the fog’s cleared up.” was all he said, holding out his hand. She grasped it and he pulled her up, quickly disappearing behind the cave exit, meeting with Jones.

“Where’s Atom?”

“We thought he was with you.”

No. Atom had to have made it. He had to. Confusion spread throughout his chest, his head turning quickly as a scream passed through the air.

“Charlotte!” Y/N called, sprinting past him, racing toward the scream. The two men followed after her, Monroe trailing behind as they reached the clearing where Atom lay, pus boiling all over his skin, blood vessels popping as Bellamy knelt beside him, cradling his friend’s head in his arms.

Y/N knelt across from him, horror circulating in her gaze as she placed a hand against his chest, gently listening to the wheezes, a soft plea barely reaching their ears.

“Kill… me...please.”

***

Y/N stared in horror, grasping the handle of her makeshift knife. “Charlotte, go back to camp.” She ordered, hand shaking as she handed it over to Bellamy.

“No, I want to help”

“Charlotte.” Y/N’s tone turned stern, a warning, “Now.”

She heard the faint shuffling of footsteps behind her until the sound disappeared, loneliness surrounding the couple as the wind whistled faintly through the woods.

Bellamy shook above the deteriorating delinquent, Y/N’s knife held firmly in his hands.

He couldn’t do it.

Y/N placed her hand on his, covering his hand to steady it before gingerly taking the knife back.

“Okay, hey Atom” her tone grew sweet, plastering a fake smile on her face as she stared at the helpless kid, “I’m gonna help you okay?”

Atom’s head nodded slightly, the pain only allowing him to move so much. Her hand shook, vocal cords humming a long-forgotten song to ease the pain, the blade slicing through the layers of skin, causing Atom to bleed out, staining the greenery crimson.

She raised her eyes forward meeting the horrified stares of Clarke, Finn, and Wells, pretending to be unaware of the intense gaze Bellamy was sending her way.

“Get Clarke whatever she needs,’ Bellamy called to his troops as they returned to camp, gaze flickering toward Y/N. She sat against the dropship, eyes blank as she stared out emotionless.

She killed someone today.

She was a killer now.

Maybe she should’ve stayed on the Ark after all.

A familiar figure slid down next to her, Monty offering her a silver cup. “Miller told me what happened, thought you might want some of this.”

She flashed a tight smile before gulping down the wretched batch of moonshine, an empty numbness snaking its way through her body, “Thanks Monty, I needed that.”

She stared above at the sky, eyes trained on the bright orbiting station above them. “Did you know it was my birthday when we came down?” She spoke forwardly, catching the kid by surprise. “It was either death by earth or death by space. You can guess which one I chose.”

Monty pressed his hand on hers, the contact barely registered as she swigged the rest of her moonshine. “You made the right choice.”

“No, I didn’t” She spoke hauntedly, “I should’ve floated myself.”

That night against the dropship, alcohol rewiring her brain, Y/N drifted away, and for the first time in eighteen years, a new terror joined the rest.

Yikes. So Y/N suffers from this thing known as depression and survivor’s guilt. As we all know there is no easy fix, this will be a constant throughout the series. I’ll put it in the warnings as we go forward.

If this isn’t something you’re comfortable with I won’t be offended if you stop reading, I promise.

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years

Text

‘The One Where Everybody Finds Out’ SAW 2020 Day 2

This is based off the Friends episode of the same name. This is kinda OOC, but I feel it is still enjoyable regardless. Take it as a crack!fic if you must!

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

It was only a murder-suicide. There was no need for consultation, thank God. Sally Donovan watched as Anderson finished taking note of his findings. She walked towards the window overlooking Baker Street. The flat they were called to was right across from 221B, and she was surprised the freak hadn’t come rushing over to see what had happened. In the window of Sherlock’s flat, she could see him and Molly Hooper having what appeared to be an intense conversation.

Sally turned away for one moment, distracted by Anderson tripping over his own feet, and when she turned back toward the window, she saw Sherlock unbutton and toss away Molly’s blouse.

“I think we’re gonna need Sherlock after all,” Anderson remarked, approaching her. “There’s something sus—“ His eyes widened at the sight before him. “Sherlock and Molly! Sherlock and Molly!” He was pointing frantically toward the window. “I knew it!!”

“My eyes! I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sally added. To her, it was like a car crash; it was disturbing, but she couldn’t look away.

Greg strolled over to see what all the commotion was. “What about Sherlock and Molly?” He looked where they were pointing and— “Did he just? And she? Sherlock obviously isn’t as clueless about women as we thought.” He chuckled. “Good for him.”

Sally groaned, wishing she could bleach the image from her brain.

“I told you they were together,” Anderson said smugly as he, Sally, and Greg sat at their usual table in the pub. “I wonder why they haven’t—oh, Mary!”

“Philip,” she acknowledged. “I came as quick as possible; what’s going on?”

“Greg and Sally just found out about Sherlock and Molly,” he told her enthusiastically.

Mary grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, you mean how they’re ‘just friends’ and nothing more? Sherlock knows that I know about them, but I assume he doesn’t know that any of you do.”

All three of them shook their heads.

“Shouldn’t we just tell them we know?” Greg asked. “Then they wouldn’t have to keep it secret…at least not from us.”

“Mm, nope! We are in a unique position. John still doesn’t know. We won’t tell them we know…not yet, anyways.” A mischievous look crossed Mary’s face. “We could have some fun with this.”

“What kind of fun?” Sally asked skeptically.

Mary’s eyes lit up. “I’m glad you asked. Tell me, how good are you all at flirting?”

Anderson drew his brows together. “Where are you going with this?”

“Oh no, I am not flirting with Sherlock Holmes,” Sally told them. “Get someone else to do it.”

Greg laughed. “Anderson already acts in love with ‘im! He could do it!”

Philip narrowed his eyes.

“Greg, you’re assigned to Molly,” Mary decided. “Sally, just do it once and I’ll pay you ten quid.”

“Twenty quid or no deal.”

“Done.”

She sighed. “Alright, fine, it’d probably freak him out coming from me.” The thought actually made her realise this could be good fun after all.

Greg, Anderson, and Sally awaited the detective’s arrival at the scene of the supposed murder-suicide.

“Esteemed colleagues,” Sherlock greeted them. “And Anderson.”

“Hey!” Sally greeted him. “That, uh, coat looks nice on you.”

Sherlock furrowed his brows. “Right.”

“Really,” she insisted. He was turning away and she felt the material of his coat. “It’s softer than it looks, and oh! Have you been working out?” Sally could see Greg behind Sherlock motioning with his hand across his neck telling her she’d made a wrong turn.

“Are you quite done, Miss Donovan?”

With that, Sally backed off not knowing where to go from there. Anderson pulled her aside. “What the hell was that?” he asked. “Sherlock prefers to be complimented on his intellect, not his body.”

“And how would you know?” Sally shot back quietly.

“It’s obvious,” he replied. “The man is a genius and he prides himself on it.”

They watched as Sherlock examined where the bodies had been and the room in its entirety. “Definitely not a murder-suicide,” he told them. “You see here on the floor was one victim’s body, but the other had been posed on the sofa.” He searched through the photographs, finding the one he needed. “From this photo, it shows there aren’t any defensive wounds on either of them. There was a third person.”

“Amazing,” Sally remarked. “I wouldn’t have caught that. How exactly does that brilliant mind of yours work?”

Sherlock sighed. “What exactly are you playing at, Donovan?”

She sauntered up toward him. “Oh, I’m not playing at anything. I just realised how foolish I’ve been.” Sally bit her lip for added effect. “I think we’d be good together, you and I.”

“Ah, so you’re a fanatic now, wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Type B, then.”

Sally gave a short laugh. “And, uh, what is type B?”

“The ‘my bedroom is just a taxi ride away’ type,” he replied. “I think I’ll head over to the morgue to examine the bodies now.”

“And see Molly,” Anderson muttered under his breath.

Sally’s honeyed smile was suspicious enough, but then she had a wicked idea. “Bye Sherlock, miss you already.”

Sherlock’s jaw dropped when Sally playfully patted his bottom. The man was practically cringing, it amused her to pieces.

“I must be going.” He left rather quickly.

Molly Hooper had just begun examining the corpses when Sherlock swept through the door. “Molly, please tell me no one else is expected to arrive.”

“My day’s going well, thanks for asking,” she replied jokingly. “No. No one else is expected…why?”

“The most disturbing thing happened at the crime scene today, I think—well, I think Sergeant Donovan was…flirting with me.” Sherlock cringed at the memory.

Molly laughed. “Oh, darling, I think she’s taking the mick out of you.”

“I’m serious, Molly, something weird is going on here,” he insisted. “She practically felt me up.”

Before she could reply, Greg strolled in to see how the examination was going. His phone buzzed, revealing the message Mary had sent him.

Go on, flirt with the girl. It’ll make Sherlock delightfully jealous. –MW

He took a breath and cleared his throat. “Molly, you look beautiful today,” Greg smiled.

Sherlock stiffened.

“Thank…you?” she replied. What the hell had gotten into everyone today?

“So, uh, how are the patients?”

“Still dead,” Molly replied as she took note of what she and Sherlock noticed. “There definitely aren’t defensive wounds, so your killer is still out there.”

“Look at this.” Sherlock pointed out track marks on the female victim’s arm.

“You thinking drug deal gone wrong?” Molly asked.

“Mm, possibly. Let’s check the gentleman’s arm, shall we?”

Sure enough, there were track marks on him as well, though they had faded more than the woman’s.

“Good find, you two!” Okay, he thought, say something—anything. “So, uh, Molls, what’d ya say we grab a drink after your shift?” Greg asked. “And, ya know, maybe we could head to my place after?”

Sherlock snapped. “Why don’t you spend more time doing your job rather than flirting with my pathologist!?”

“Sherlock,” Molly berated him in a low voice.

“Leave,” he told Greg. “Now.”

Lestrade backed out of the room, only laughing to himself quietly when he reached the hallway.

“Now, was that absolutely necess—Mmm!“ Molly felt herself being pulled toward him with the hand on the small of her back. His other hand cradled the back of her head, his lips pressing firmly, deliciously on hers.

“Molly,” he uttered breathlessly, snogging her as if his life depended on it. It delighted him to hear her sigh against his mouth as his tongue traced her bottom lip. He guided her to lean her head as he trailed down to her neck, finding her pulse point.

“If you’re not careful,” she breathed heavily, “they’ll figure us out.”

“Mmm, not sure I give a damn,” he mumbled against her skin.

Molly gasped, her eyes widening. Gently, she pushed Sherlock away. He pouted, looking like a wounded puppy. “They know!”

“What?”

“Sherlock, they all obviously found out about us—that’s why everyone is acting so strange. They’re trying to get us to crack,” she explained.

“You know what?” he asked, pointing at her. “You’re right. How did I not see that? But how? We’ve been so careful.”

Molly thought for a moment. “Oh God. Oh no. Sherlock, the crime scene was at the flat across from yours.”

“…yes?”

“I seem to recall us getting intimate near your window before you carried me to your bedroom,” Molly reminded him, blushing at the thought. “They don’t know that we know that they know. We’re gonna turn this ‘round on them.”

Sherlock perked up. “I’m listening…”

Back at 221B, Sherlock rang up Sally, putting it on speaker so Molly could hear.

“We are so gonna get them back!” she exclaimed.

“Shhh,” Sherlock laughed.

The ringing stopped. She picked up. “Hey you.”

“Sally,” Sherlock’s voice dropped an octave. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

She coughed, no doubt surprised by the turn of events. “You what?”

“You made an excellent point earlier—we would be good together,” he told her. Molly covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “I must say, I am intrigued.”

“Really?” Sally couldn’t keep the distaste from her tone.

“I thought we could have a drink or two and come back to my place,” Sherlock suggested, his voice dripping with allurement.

“I—I’ll have to get back to you on that, okay bye.”

Sherlock and Molly couldn’t help but crack up after Sally hung up.

“That takes of her,” she told him.

“Now what do we do about Lestrade?” he wondered.

The next day, he visited the morgue to find Sherlock. It was urgent. Neither the detective or the pathologist were to be seen, but he heard a rummage from the supply closet, and then—

“Oh, Sherlock!”

“…so good. Molly!”

“Ohhhh yes. Yes, yes yes! Harder!”

All kinds of moans and groans continued to sound from the closet, the man’s eyes flaring with annoyance. He threw open the door. “Don’t you two have any self-control!?”

There stood Sherlock and Molly, fully clothed, and laughing. “Sorry about that, brother dear, we thought you were Lestrade.”

“You two are acting like children!” Mycroft berated them. “Why all the secrecy anyway?”

“We didn’t want anyone making a big deal of things,” Molly explained. “Plus, it was more fun that way. Well, Mary knows and you know, but now everyone else does too.”

“Not John,” Sherlock pointed out. “He wouldn’t believe it even if Mary told him—and she has told him.”

Mycroft sighed. “Anyways, I need you to take a look at these files—sniff out the guilty party.”

“I don’t work for you, Mycroft,” Sherlock told him.

“But you will do it.”

Sherlock sighed. “Yes, fine.”

When Mycroft left, Sherlock’s mobile rang. It was Sally. “Sally, I—what? Seven? I—“

Molly mouthed to him, what’s she saying?

“Uh huh. Right, good.” Sherlock hung up. “She’s actually going to come over. Molly, I’m not entirely sure this is a game anymore.”

“Oh yes it is. This has Mary written all over it. I bet she set all this up when she found out that they found out,” Molly told him. “We can win this.”

“Competitive, aren’t you?” Sherlock asked rhetorically. He never realised how amped up she could get over a competition. What was in store for them now?

“Okay, so Greg can’t make it—he’s just arrested the murderer,” Sally told Anderson. The two of them were in a cab headed to Baker Street. Mary and John were already there visiting Mrs. Hudson. Though Mary had concocted this plan, John was unaware of everything going on around him.

When they arrived, Mary was just inside to greet them quietly. “Okay, now, Anderson and I will stay close by on the stairs. Mrs. Hudson is still talking John’s ear off. Sally, go on up.”

“You think this’ll make him crack?” Anderson asked.

“I know it will,” answered Mary.

A knock sounded at the door. “Molly, what do I do?”

“Just play along with her. Nothing will ever get too far,” Molly spoke quietly. She snuck off to Sherlock’s bedroom, closing the door softly.

Sally stood on the other side of the door, waiting for Sherlock to let her in. Mary had adjusted her blouse by popping open two buttons. When Sherlock opened the door, his debonair smile greeted her. He was a good actor, she gave him that.

“Sally, come in.” He gestured for her to enter. “I was just, uh, going over some case files.”

“I have to say I’m surprised you invited me over,” she told him.

“Well, you’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Sherlock replied. “Would you…like to move this conversation to the bedroom?”

Oh, he’s good. “N—No! I mean, not yet.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll uh, undress and you can…Lotion! You should get us some lotion.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. She wasn’t backing down, but she was no longer convincing. Sally was definitely gonna crack first. He headed toward his bedroom, closing the door quickly behind him. “Molly,” he whispered. “She wants me to get lotion, but her resolve is weakening.”

“Make her think you’re really serious about this,” Molly told him, tossing him her body lotion she kept in his nightstand. “She won’t be able to keep the pretense up.”

Meanwhile, Sally was out on the landing at the stairs, freaking out. “He’s not going to back down, what do I do?”

Anderson reached over and tugged on Sally’s blouse, revealing her bra. “There.”

“You didn’t even break off the buttons,” she said in surprise.

“Had a lot of practice,” he smirked.

“What in God’s name are you all doing??” John Watson stood at the bottom of the stairs having seen the entire situation unfold.

“Sally’s trying to seduce Sherlock,” Mary told him.

“What the fu—“

“Fun!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. “Sounds fun!”

“Shit, he’s coming back!” Sally returned inside and closed the door just in time.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. Ugh, she could practically hear his arrogance.

“Uh, no,” she replied, turning to face him. “I was just readying myself.” She motioned to her unbuttoned blouse. Sally slunk closer toward him until they were only inches apart. She tilted her head up, biting her lip. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Kiss me first,” he challenged.

Jesus, just take one for the team, Donovan. Sally placed her hands on his waist, and pulled him against her. She rose on her toes, and just when her lips were a hair’s breadth away…

“No! Okay, fine, you win! I can’t do this!”

“And why can’t you?” she asked smugly.

“Because I’m in love with Molly!”

The front door burst wide open as well as his bedroom door. John, Mary, Anderson and Mrs. Hudson stood in front of him.

“Sherlock?” Molly came up from behind him.

“Molly,” he sighed in relief. “I love you.” It was the first time he had said it to her.

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

“Awww I thought you two were just doin’ it, but you’re in love!” Sally exclaimed unexpectedly.

“We’re in love,” Sherlock confirmed.

John looked around, baffled by the entire situation. “I’ve missed something haven’t I?”

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2020 #my fanfiction

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