#and it gets worse once the rest of the family gets involved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ultralightpoe · 5 months

Text

Chaos - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: terribly written but I'm clearing out my drafts

Warning: mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2340

Part One Here

Enjoy!

“What the hell happened?” Cho snaps, moving to the gurney being pushed in and surveying the amount of blood that was spilling. “Back up! I need room, someone page Stark immediately!”

The lights of the tower flicker under the storm, and Steve watches as Cho’s team wheels the gurney away quickly, his hand shaking heavily. Panic claws at his throat as the scene from earlier unfolds in his mind once more, turning slowly to the redhead beside him.

“Steve-” She starts before he shakes his head.

“Nat, this is not a conversation you want to have with me right now.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose before he realizes it’s coated in blood and pulls it back sharply. “I need to shower.”

He storms off, shoulders squared as he thinks about all the reports he is about to fill out.

“We won’t have much time, in and out as fast as we can. Everyone has their tasks?” Steve asks, making sure everyone nods back to him before making eye contact with you. “Y/n, I know this will be your first mission-”

“We should go before the storm gets any worse.” You interrupt, fixing your headset and moving to the bay of the quinjet, grabbing your bag before being the first to leave the ship and rushing to leave them behind.

“Slow down Y/n.” You hear Bucky warn in your earpiece, and normally you would turn around to wait for him. But he wasn’t your partner on the mission today, so you didn’t turn and kept the same pace. They could catch up if they wanted.

Bucky stops in his tracks when he sees you march off, not bothering to turn to him, his heart thundering in his chest. Normally you would slow down for him, normally he would have your back during missions.

It was a slow realization that you would be alone.

“Maybe we should-” He starts, feeling like a fool as Sam turns to look.

“We gotta go, come on man.” He mumbles, watching as Nat takes lead.

It was going to be a simple mission, in and out, Bucky reminds himself. Taking a deep breath before following the rest.

“We need a report,” Tony sighs, tracing through the footage of the mission, eyes widening at the fight. “I’ve never….”

“Tony, I’ve never seen it before. And it’s my fault.” Nat sighs, rubbing her hand across her face. “I got involved.”

“How?”

“I got in Bucky’s head a bit. I was just worried-”

“Worried about what?”

“About Bucky and- I just remember coming out of the red room and being so attached to Clint. I had no family, no story, no morals. I was just pain. I was in pain myself and I inflicted pain onto others.”

“You went through something terrible-”

“THEY WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TERRIBLE! Bucky went through 70 years of it and the experiments they ran on Y/n….. I just wanted them to safe. I didn’t want them to get hurt.” She sighs, picking at her hair. “I love them both and I just wanted them to take a break. Maybe they would see how much they needed each other, and they would finally admit it to each other.”

“You should know by now that Barnes never thinks the way we do.”

“He thinks he is going to ruin everything he touches.”

“I know someone like that.” Clint interrupts from the door, giving Nat a small smirk. “Let’s just take a night to rest, Cho will update us if need be.”

It had turned into a mess too fast, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The rain covered most of your vision as the walls of the compound seemed to be closing in quickly, the others screaming over the intercoms as they had been ambushed.

You had been tasked to get the files from the lower levels of the compound, and you had planned to get it done quickly. You had not planned, however, to be locked in the basement as it began flooding.

“GUYS!” You should, tears springing from your eyes as you cling to the door, the water reaching your ankles at the top of the stairs.

“They blew up the dam-” Sams voice cuts through, half static half radio. “Steve, to your right-”

Gunshots could be heard in the background, Natasha cursing and you truly did not think they could hear you at all anymore. “Shit.”

Instead of clinging to the door you turn to survey another way out of the room, eyes scanning over every inch of space to find your exit. The intercom in your hear rumbles with static before your name breaks through, Bucky’s voice sounding panicked. The next thing you know the intercoms have a sharp ringing through them that makes you gasp out and tear it from your ear quickly, dropping it in the water and diving in to find a way out.

Bucky curses as he tears the intercom from his ear, dodging a bullet quickly and diving behind a wall as Nat stays covered by her own, making eye contact for a second as she tears her own comns out.

First the heavy explosion that shook them down, the dam breaking and water beginning to flood, Hydra soldiers attacking them and now their comns were down. Worst of all Bucky could not find you.

Heart thundering through his ribs as he bites at his tongue to keep from grunting in pain when he realizes he had been shot, but right now that doesn't matter. He had to find you.

“I have to find Y/n!” He shouts, watching Nat nod before he dashes to the exit that you were supposed to use. Just as he reaches the metal door something loosens in his chest, knowing you would were near and he could find you. He would never let you go he swore to god.

He pulls the door, desperate to get to you, only to find it sealed shut. So his metal hand takes charge, bending into the metal as he grunts out, doing his best to get it off. A shout of pain fills the air as Sam comes into view, moving to help Bucky tear the door off.

They make eye contact for a moment, the rain beating down on them before a blast of light blows them to the side, heat covering their bodies as they ram into the wall.

Bucky’s head slams into brick, he hears Steve shout and Sam scream out in pain before it all goes blank.

He would never see the chaos erupt.

Steve is up the second the sun filters through the curtains, happy to finally get to leave his room and check on his friends' health.

Nat is already waiting for him in the front hall of the med bay, a nervous look on her face as Steve walks past her to speak with Cho.”Any update?”

“He’s breathing.” She sighs. “And he was so lucky Y/n was there.”

You could hear the explosion from under the water, and in a panic you swam back up, only to find that the water had flooded to the roof and your face was pressed to the ceiling to catch your breath.

Taking a moment to breathe as you hear Sam scream in pain, there was a pain in yoru chest that you couldn’t explain. It felt like a panic attack but worse, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t stop crying.

“PLEASE!” You scream, hands pressing to the ceiling as the water gets worse.

“Stop crying!” A voice breaks out, and you whip your head to find your old boss, the man that had thrown you into your first cell. The man that had ruined you.

He was standing in the center of the room, and you had to blink for a moment to realize that there was no water, and you were completely dry.

“W-what?”

“Stand up!” You listen to him immediately, just as you used to, the tears still streaming down your face as you look around the room. It was different now, when you had come in it had looked like a simple office, now it was your cell.

Or had it always been your cell?

Who was screaming?

“I SAID STAND UP!” Doctor Cornell shouts, stomping forward to drag you up himself, a slap tearing across your face as you cry out.

“Where’s Bucky?” You gasp, the pain in your cheek fading away quickly. “I want to find Bucky.”

“You think he wants you?” Cornell laughs bitterly. “No one wants you, I’ve made you a fucking freak.”

“I want b-” Before you can finish your sentence you remember Bucky ignoring you, avoiding you….. And then you realize why. Cornell was right, he had made you a freak. You were a monster.

A sob racks through your chest, and the painful feeling explodes.

You try to scream out, only for your lungs to fill with water and more panic to take place.

Steve could not believe his eyes, holding Sam's abdomen tightly in an attempt to stop the blood, watching as vines burst from the basement and travel across every surface faster then he ever thought possible.

“Is that……” Steve starts, looking to where Nat was trying to get Bucky up.

“Y/n.”

Sam gasps out as the vines wrap around him, tightening around his wound and glowing a deep golden color as some of the blood stops, the vines traveling further and wrapping around the Hydra soldiers tightly to stop them all.

Now that Sam's wound is being taken care of, Steve dashes to dive in the water, swimming down to try and find where you were. Only you were nowhere to be found, whatsoever.

By the time he comes back up he is panting for air, watching as Bucky kneels by the water with blood leaking down his face and panicked eyes looking at his friend. “Where is she?”

“She’s not down there.” Steve gasps.

“STEVE WHERE IS SHE?!” Bucky snaps, the water reaching his waist as Nat moves to snatch him back.

“The vines are dying, Y/n can’t hold them off forever. We gotta go.” She rushes out, snatching the back of Buckys vest.

“NOT WITHOUT Y/N-”

“Bucky. Y/n is holding them off but we have to get Sam out of here. Please.”

“Any word on Y/n?” Bruce asks, coming into the surveillance room where Clint is deep diving into the footage.

“I can’t find her.” He admits, eyes never leaving the screen. “I would love some help.”

“You got it.”

“Lock the door before Barnes comes in and bothers me again.” He sighs, watching Bruce lock it. It was a joke, but he knew that Barnes was hurting. He could understand that.

Bucky woke up in a startled panic, reaching to your side of the bed quickly, sitting up to find you when he doesn’t feel you. “Y/n?”

His voice is scratchy, a mix of all the screaming from yesterday, and he slowly realizes you aren’t there as the memories resurface.You weren’t here, you were gone. They weren’t able to find you yesterday.

A knock sounds at the door and Bucky jumps up, excitement filling him as he rushes to answer, hoping to see your face on the other side of the door, only to find Steve on the other side. His heart plummets to his stomach as his friend looks at him softly.

“You found your way to her apartments then?”

“I think I came here immediately yesterday.” He answers truthfully, letting Steve in before looking around the room, seeing all the dead plants. “How did her plants die in a day?”

“Buck…..” Steve starts, and Bucky tenses, fists clenched as he turns to his friend. “It’s been…. It’s been a week.”

“What?” Bucky laughs, flinching as Steve turns on the light.

“It’s been a week. You came here the night we brought you back and you passed out, I think because of the head injury-”

“If it’s been a week then where is my doll?”

“We…. we can’t find her Buck.” Steve sighs, rubbing between his eyes. “I think it’s time you and I talked about some things-”

“Talk about things? I can’t talk I have to go find her Steve-” He moves to pass his friend but Steve shoots his hand out to catch him.

“I think it’s time to admit you love her.”

Freak freak freak freak freak.

Your mouth was dry and your feet hurt, this was the only thing you could comprehend.

The lady in the market was staring at you wildly, looking terrified as she reached a hand towards you, concern flashing through her eyes. “Are you okay?”

She had a heavy accent, one that reminded you of someone, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. What was it…..russian?

“Do you want me to call someone?” She asks, rubbing your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

“I…..I’m….” Who were you? You blinked slowly, trying to remember who you were. All you saw was a flash of someone with a metal arm before you were met with a bald man in a lab coat. “I… don’t…. Who am I?”

Bucky finds himself in the med bay the next morning after a long lecture from Steve, staring at Sam as his friend runs on the treadmill.

“I… I am so confused. Steve said you were in critical condition?”

“He was.” Cho answers in amazement, reading the stats that Sam is sending through the tech pad in her hands. “But he is completely healed.”

“How?”

“Y/n, there were traces of her vines left in the wound. It’s completely healed now.”

“Her…. she’s never done that before.” Bucky mumbles, a tight feeling in his chest. “What do you think it means?”

“I think we need to find Y/n, as fast as we can. That was way too much energy used.” Cho answers, a grim expression on her face.

Bucky could do that, he would tear apart the world to find you.

Tag List:::

@spookyparadisesheep @minaxcarter @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @whatishappeninghere81 @vicmc624 @unaxv @elite4cekalyma @scott-loki-barnes @luciaexcorvus @zephyrmonkey @littlewhiterose @classyunknownlover @cyberficlya @m00n5t0n3 @donttalktosposts @magnificentsvn @jenniferpendragon @dexter99

957 notes · View notes

demontonic · 11 months

Text

Ethan Landry - Perverted

There will be undoubtedly a part 2 since i realized this was hitting 2000 words and i wasnt about to make you guys wait another three days till i put out the smut so take this background as a starter so i can finish the rest! Also let me know if you want to be on my taglist for part 2

Word Count: 2274

TW: Blood, Knives

Ethan had always been quiet around you, unless you were with the others but even then there was very little interaction. At first you thought he didn’t like you, then you thought maybe I’m too loud for him- but that couldn’t be it. If that were true he wouldn’t like Chad, and he was worse than you. Countless possibilities rushed through your mind every time you saw him and it slowly tumbled into a sick infatuation. You started to take note of who he talked to, especially if it was another girl. Watching even the smallest of mannerisms and remembering what his body language meant. At some point you decided to ask for his social media from Chad, of course he teased you about it immediately making sense of why he caught you staring at the nerd. After that Mindy found out and of course told Tara who told Sam and Quinn, nothing could stay a secret for too long in this dysfunctional family.

The gang decided to help your seemingly innocent crush on the curly haired brunette, however they had no idea what you really thought about him. You had always been one to get too involved with the people you had liked. Sure it was a long running joke that girls had the skills of FBI agents, but combine that with no social life… it’s almost concerning. You had always gotten weird vibes around him, call it intuition but you had never imagined your feelings to be remotely correct. One night you were out late, making a short walk back from the small market on the corner of your street. You decided since the gang went out -and you had zero social battery left- you would simply drink by yourself tonight. You stuffed the plastic bag filled with a few medium sized bottles of vodka and some cheap berry blend juice into the small backpack you had. Going to the small pizza restaurant and picking up the pizza you ordered for when you inevitably got the munchies. It was a short walk back to the apartment, maybe 15-20 minutes at most. Besides, you had done this many times before but what you were about to encounter would change the course of the next month.

Most of the surrounding apartments housed students from Blackmore University, it was afterall a close walk to the college. If your music hadn’t lagged when it did you would’ve missed the noise coming from the dark alley. What a cliche. You and Mindy were horror fanatics and after Woodsboro you knew better than to go into the pitch black void filled with shuffling noises. The cool air that racked against your exposed arms only added to the adrenaline that began to pump through your veins as you finally came to the realization that you had been standing and staring into the alleyway for a minute now. The small pizza box now being set on the top of a dumpster as you paused the music blasting in your eardrums, placing the small earbuds in their case so that you were now fully aware of your surroundings.

You pulled out the butterfly knife you had trained yourself to be moderately skilled with in times like these. The purple handle being grasped tightly in your fist as you crept slowly towards the sound you had yet to find the source of. There was a corner about mid way through, a small light illuminating that portion as you peaked your head around the corner. At first it took your eyes a second to adjust to the sudden change but once you did you realized that the boy you had been truthfully stalking was more than met the eye. He was crouched next to a dumpster, his surprisingly toned torso lightly splatter with specs of blood. Black jeans and doc martens being the only thing on him besides a black wrist watch. However upon squinting you see a blade entirely covered in blood, the crimson liquid falling into a small puddle between his legs. A Ghostface mask hung on the edge of the dumpster, the usually white face having the same crimson adorning it only in the shape of a handprint. You wanted to believe that maybe it was a costume, but you knew he would never do that with the people he associated with. You watched, frozen, as he wiped the blade on his thigh to rid it of blood before shoving it into a backpack. He pulled out a blue polo shirt, slipping it on as he shoved -what you could only assume was the rest of the Ghost face robe- in before placing the mask on top and zipping it closed.

You took a few steps back, going to hide yourself behind the few trash bags that were leaned against the walls next to you. It was too dark for him to notice you, wearing mostly black you blended in with the shadows. He turned the corner, walking out the way you had entered only he paused. Ethan didn’t turn around to face you, not his body or even a slight turn of his head. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, you felt like he could hear it.

“Stalking someone you don’t even talk to isn’t a good look,” his voice sounded like he was smiling, it held pride and darkness. Your eyes widened as you readied your knife, preparing yourself for the worst case possible. He took a few steps back, stopping right in front of you as he dropped his backpack. A hand grabbed at the wrist that held the small blade, pulling you to your feet as he stared at you with empty eyes.

“Being covered in blood isn’t exactly a good image either,” you scowled as he only looked at you with a smug expression plastered on his annoyingly perfect face. “You’ve had plenty of time to try and gouge my eyes out, kick, scream, grab your knife with your free hand and yet you stare at me- now that’s a bad look Y/N.” Ethan was right, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you snatched your hand from his grip, slicing his palm open in the process. He hissed lowly as he retracted his arm, assessing the wound before licking it. Your mouth gaped open as you stared at the seemingly psychotic man in front of you. “Did you know your saliva can help the healing process for wounds? I’m sure you’re thinking I did that for show but there's a reason behind everything I do. I’m surprised you didn’t find me out sooner, considering you never stop following me, watching me.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you were a killer, so take that with a grain of salt-“

“So you think it’s justified? Stalking an innocent college boy- or nerd as you love to call me.”

“Innocent isn’t exactly how I’d describe you, but if it helps you sleep at night,” what are you thinking? He’s a serial killer, a COPYCAT of someone who almost killed you. Your conscience was bellowing inside of your head, however here you stood face to face with the guy you’d been drooling over since the start of the year, with full knowledge of his true agenda. “What helps me sleep at night is knowing that someone as sick and perverted as you can be so stupid as to stay here and chit chat with someone who’s quite literally trying to kill your friends.” You scoffed… you scoffed “Real smart revealing your entire plan-“

“How desperate are you? How insane are you to stand here and hold a conversation with me? Or am I just that hot-“

“Shut the fuck up you are so full of yourself I’m surprised you’ve gotten this far-“ Sirens. Police had begun to pull up to the apartment buildings, your heart beat picking up as this scene looked very sketchy. You talking with the killer calmly in the alleyway outside of a crime scene wouldn’t hold up well in court. Ethan groaned as he took off running the opposite side of the alleyway opting out on a long way home rather than the route you were taking. Without even processing what was happening you emerged from the alley, grabbing the pizza box and walking home. You wish you could say it was peaceful but your thoughts were consumed by the interaction… and the rush it gave you.

The next morning

It was a weekend, you woke up around noon, the pizza box being thrown to the floor and your bottles tucked away in the crevice between your bed and nightstand. Your head spun lightly, a slight headache setting in but nothing you couldn’t handle, you were practically a pro at handling hangovers. At first you ran through your morning routine like normal, mind fuzzy and not fully recalling the events from last night. That was until you walked back into your room realizing there was a small gift bag on your nightstand. The gift was black and covered with white ghosts, tied with a red ribbon. “What the fuck,” you muttered under your breath before opening it. The contents poured on to your stand, your knife accompanied by a small piece of paper fell out. You stopped breathing for a moment as reality crashed down on you; he was in your room while you were sleeping. You opened the small note, reading the neat writing in red ink.

you’re stupid enough not to notice that I took your knife? and that was before you were shit faced, you were out pretty cold, you almost looked cute.

p.s. thanks for the free pizza❤️

For a second you let yourself forget everything you just read, reverting back to your sick infatuation with the seemingly quiet nerdy boy. He called me cute. You knew you were twisted when your heart fluttered while reading the note like it was some stupid middle school crush. He called me stupid and broke into my apartment. You crumbled the note up, going to throw it away but you hesitated, why are you second guessing this? You didn’t know, but you flattened it out, folded it, and placed it back into the bag and left it in your nightstand. As for your knife you placed it back into your bag before getting dressed to hang out with your friends, unfortunately they still think you’re head over heels for Ethan. As you emerged from what they referred to as ‘your cave’ Tara and Quinn greeted you.

“Seems like you had fun last night, did you have any company over this time?” Quinn interrogated before sitting down on the white sofa. “You know I never-“

“We heard someone in your room last night, did you finally make progress with Ethan?” Tara, surprisingly not fumbling her words, questioned as she shook you by the shoulders enthusiastically.

“Oh come on guys you don’t seriously think… you heard someone in my room and didn’t say anything?” It finally dawned on you that they heard him, while you were passed out and thought you were fucking, great.

“What if it was ghostface? I could be dead right now!” Tara folded her arms, her mood noticeably more dull, “Did something happen that we should know about? Did you get a call?” Again, you froze, standing there with your mouth gaped open as you looked into the eyes of someone you considered family.

“No I just- come on you guys know I’d never have someone with me. I was probably just drunk and stumbling around my room looking for something.” You rambled before walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, still questioning why you hadn’t told her. Yes you had a small obsession with the boy, but it was much more than that now. Your face turned a light shade of red when you read his note, your heart swelled at the thought of him sneaking into your room to return your knife. The sight of him staring down at you in the cold dark alley, you could smell the blood and cologne on his skin from how close-

“Earth to Y/N! Hello Hi sweetie we need to get going, we’re meeting up with the boys for lunch.” Quinn said as she waved her hand in front of your face before walking towards the apartment door where Tara already stood. You quickly grabbed your water and followed the two girls out of the door trying to ignore your internal moral battle.

You waited in the mostly empty quad at a bench, Sam had yet to turn up and Chad had gotten here shortly after Mindy and Anika. Only one you were missing was the person you were sweating bullets about. You sat patiently, quietly, observantly, until your phone dinged. By now the group was over their usual paranoia but when you saw it was from Ethan you swiped it away at first… instantly regretting it.

“It’s rude to ignore people,” a whisper from your right side startled you, causing you to jump forward. By the time you turned around and the group noticed his presence he was standing up right, acting innocent like he didn’t scare the shit out of you.

“Ethan! Took you long enough shit, were you jacking off in the shower?” Chad joked as he slung his arm around the now quiet boy.

“Oh- ew! Grow up, can’t you talk about anything besides your dicks?” Mindy expressed quite passionately before beginning to lead the group to a small restaurant.

Sorry to end it so abruptly i genuinely needed to put this out so i could take my time perfecting the last half so hoped you like it let me know what you would want in part 2 i might take some notes. heres my masterlist if you wanna check that out!

#fanfic #ethan landry #ghost face #ghostface x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface ethan #ghostface x you #Spotify #demontonic #D3M0NT0N1C

895 notes · View notes

bones4thecats · 3 months

Note

Hiiii!!! Could I request Ace, Azul, Jamil, and Malleus with an s/o who's got an imagination-based innate ability? She can create anything just by imagining it in her head. Food, a statue of the boys, a cat with wings, anything!

Azul is going to annoy her I bet

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Ace Trappola, Azul Ashengrotto, Jamil Viper, and Malleus Draconia Name: {Character} with an S/O that can create anything from their mind Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I agree with you on that, I think that Azul would definetly annoy his S/O if they could do this. You could make the meals they needed by thought, he doesn't need to pay so many workers anymore! He's a greedy octopus, but he's a lovable greedy octopus.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🪅 When Ace first met you, he only believed you had some boring ability, since pretty much everyone he had met had something that was 'boring', his in opinion

🪅 But, when you were sitting by Epel and he was grumbling about how he wanted something that reminded him of home, specifically a mini-toolbox he used as a kid growing up on his family's farm

🪅 And when you randomly asked about the items inside with more details involved, causing the rest of the group to look at you in confusion

🪅 Yuu and Grim were about to ask you what you meant when you randomly pulled out an exact replica of the toolbox and tools that Epel described, making him gasp and thank you

🪅 Ace was super confused on what just happened, did you somehow just summon the object? No, that couldn't be, you were the same year as them, you're magic isn't that strong

🪅 It took a few more times for this to happen, but, once he grapples the fact that you could literally make anything just from your imagination, his brain's gears were turning

🪅 This guy loves pulling pranks, so, if he didn't have something specific for a certain one, he always asks you, knowing pretty much everyone else he asks would try talking him out of doing said prank

🪅 Ace also loves pulling these pranks with you

🪅 One time, he was trying to get back at a random student in Savanaclaw who was screwing around and ended up getting him collared by Riddle, and, in an act of karma, he needed you for help

🪅 He smirked from the tree as you held your hand in the air, just above the door of the student's, and once it opened and Ace pat your back, you released a large balloon full of sticky jam, and once the beastman jumped and tried getting the stuff out of his hair, you made a door and fell through it into Ace's room, laughing your asses off

🐙 You slightly feared Azul at the start of your relationship, since you knew he still had a hint of greed left within him from his overblot

🐙 But, in order to keep your relationship strong, you pushed those horrible thoughts to the back of your mind to help him become a better person

🐙 Azul uses his profits made from his many different connections in order to keep his on-campus restaurant, Mostro Lounge, in business, and you knew exactly how hard it was for him to keep those things in order

🐙 And a lot of those times, he had to deny some things in order to keep his place afloat, especially when it came to denying Floyd some time off, putting the mer-eel in a bad mood

🐙 On this particular day, Floyd was throwing a massive tantrum and wouldn't come out of his room, prompting Azul to be slightly understaffed because there was a illness seemingly going around, and the two Tweels seemed to have caught it

🐙 Though Floyd was taking it far worse than Jade was

🐙 Your boyfriend was stressing out, he needed some people to come in to work, but they couldn't because of their sickness, promping him to end up working double-time to make sure it was proper-looking for the day

🐙 When you walked in and saw him in the V.I.P. area working on some paperwork while whipping down the table, you sighed and thought of something you knew would help, some animate objects!

🐙 Azul looked up and saw how the objects seemed to do whatever you ordered, making his eyes widen and causing him to ask how exactly you had found these things around, and, with that question, you revealed your ability

🐙 While yes, sometimes Azul does seem to want to use this ability to his advantage, his heart aches at the thought of you straining yourself to do something for his gratification

🐙 It doesn't stop him from trying to sign a contract with you though, old habits die hard, right?

🐍 Jamil has lived a life where he had always given and not taken, and it has made your heart ache ever since you heard about how he has had to given things up just because of his family's job serving the Al-Asim family

🐍 After hearing about this, you wanted to gift Jamil the best thing you could imagine, and that ended up being a small snake replica

🐍 You knew that his family valued the snake, it was in their surname, well, okay, it kinda was their last name, but it's the sentiment that counts!

🐍 That and my brain is kinda dead rn

🐍 Unlike with some others, you couldn't hide your power from Jamil for very long, since, during his overblot, you worked alongside the Octavinelle Trio, Kalim, Yuu, and Grim in saving Scarabia and helping Jamil go back to normal

🐍 When that fight ended, you had summoned him a small bouquet of flowers, specifically the blue lotus', which symbolize the victory of wisdom over suffering

🐍 Jamil liked your ability, though he did try pushing you away, not wanting to see you strain yourself to just help him, he felt like he didn't deserve it

🐍 You had found out Jamil's birthstone and recreated them as small gems for the eyes and you made a shimmery black-colored metal with highlighting yellows and reds on the scales

🐍 Once you finished and gave it to Jamil that night, he froze in place and tried hiding his flustered face, and during this, he had to hold back his tears

🐍 Nobody has ever showed this much care in him, you strained your own magical energy to make him this? His love for you just tripled, as if it could be fit onto a scale to begin with

🐉 You both are the duo that everyone fears at some capacity

🐉 Malleus' aura is the main thing that prompts people to stray from him, but, with you, they fear if they get on your bad-side, you'll just eradicate them with a creation of your's

🐉 When he first met you, you were making a new sword for Silver that Lilia had requested, since his old one had broken and ordering one from Briar Valley would've taken far to long to deliver, despite it being from the head of their army, this metal was very hard to work with

🐉 The Prince of Fae watched as you delicately chanted the mixture of things that made the metal and his eyes lit up with curiosity and wonder as the material emerged out of nowhere, going from mere atoms to the full object

🐉 Ever since that fateful day, you both were practically inseparable, he would tell you things that happened throughout his life as a member of a royal family as you would make something, and you would tell him stories of your life as he listened and looked at the nature surrounding you both

🐉 Due to his standing as a royal figure, he normally doesn't have anything he wants not there, so, when it came to you wanting to make something for him, you couldn't think of anything, so, in turn, you went to Lilia

🐉 The old fae just smiled and teased you before finally helping you figure something out, a few things went into what you made for the male's birthday that was the following day

🐉 When Malleus opened the boxes you gave him that night, he chuckled as he pulled out the tamagotchi-themed keychain that had his small Gao-Gao Drakon-kun on the end, and he also saw you had made him a tiny picture frame with a photo of his friends and family in there

🐉 He smiled and hugged you tightly, giving you the most heart-warming pledge of his love you had ever heard him say

340 notes · View notes

firsttimewriter92 · 8 months

Text

No hero, just me

Captain John Price x (f!)reader

Summary: You got abducted and John, along with his team is sent to rescue you. When the get-away vehicle is sabotaged, you have to walk the rest of the way to safety. John seems unusually worried and caring towards you. Are you actually just a military higher ups daughter or something more to him?

Warnings: Abduction, canon typical violence, injuries, pining, longing, slow burn, angst, kissing, parental issues(!)

A/N: Hi everyone. This idea has been brewing for a while and upon popular demand I created the story around the lovely Captain. Please note that I not only discuss your relationship with Price but also with your family. So for those who have parental issues, please read with caution. Otherwise please enjoy :)

Words: 11.976 (Yeah, that might have escalated a little)

It was cold. So fucking cold. Your aching back was leaned against an icy brick wall, your knees pulled up to your chest. With shallow breaths you tried to stay as warm as possible but it seemed like with every day that passed, your hope of rescue dwindled. At least that´s what you were sure off. You scoffed at your abductors stupidity. Had they not done their research?

Lieutenant General August _____ was everything but a devoted father. Maybe he once was when you were a child but as soon as you became older it became clear as day to you that his priorities had shifted. It was devastating to watch your brother completely lose himself in trying to impress his father. With flying success though. He was on his way on becoming a Colonel and your father paraded him around at functions like he was his most priced possession. But Alexander himself…he was a mere shadow of a person with character, edges or a mind of his own. It infuriated you. Your mother was the same. Only worse. She clung to the respect, grace and riches your fathers position came with, with such force, that every smile of hers since you were ten years old had only been a forced grimace. The only genuine thing about her? Every proud look she gave her son, every devoted gaze she gave to her husband…and every ounce of disappointment and caution she gave you.

It wasn´t like you rebelled against your family. You weren´t involved in any sex scandals, drug problems or any other affairs. Quite the opposite. You tried your hardest to stay away from those things. But that also meant staying away from your families affairs. You didn’t want anything to do with anything. You hated the fancy dinners and balls. You hated the pretentious smiles, conversation and frankly boring as fuck people your parents surrounded themselves with. And how much they played into their cards to hold up the good family reputation. So it was no wonder that your parents became more and more irritated with you when they saw your blatant disinterest in the military, politics or any of it. How you showed up at parties and dinners, not talking much, not engaging and just waiting for the time to pass you by. It wasn’t what they were used to from your brother.

Needless to say your relationship with your parents didn’t exactly improve from then on. You´d moved out as soon as your mother didn’t throw a fit anymore and within a week, you found a flat way outside London in a quiet village. You were thankful to the great education you´d received however. It allowed you to work from home and you only had to come into the office about twice a month. You loved it. Alexander had helped you move and when it was just the two of you, you could see the very sharp and quite witty brother you had shine through. He and you have had several conversations about your respective situations and there was a mutual acceptance that the other sibling just wanted to have everything or nothing to do with it.

So why not Alec? Why wasn’t Alec sitting here, wondering what had gone wrong? Well, that was actually an easy question to answer. Because he was overseas. You groaned and hugged your knees closer. Of course your parents would receive a ransom demand for you. But how quickly would they react? It had been days. Days and you were sure that you weren´t even in the UK anymore. The ride in the van had been hours long. And the helicopter flight had been even longer.

You heard the shackles outside the door rattle once again and the panic crept into your veins as it had been each time it happened. The door opened but you couldn’t lift your head. A tray was placed in front of you and a deep chuckle reached your ears. It was cold and condescending. “Really” the voice snarled with a thick accent you couldn´t place. “I would´ve guessed your father to have reacted by now. What a shame.” The man stood up again and before closing the door again said with a much more sinister voice, “If he don’t react soon, holding you will not have much benefit, will it?”

You knew what he was trying to say with that. And even though you were somewhat estranged from your family, you´d never guessed they´d let you die like this. It hurt. It hurt fucking bad. It shouldn´t have been a problem to meet their demands with the social status and power your father held. What in the world were they asking for, for your father to wait so long to react?

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut short by a loud bang and then….shots. Shots? What the hell was going on?! You were on your feet as quickly as you could and winced from the pain your stiff legs and numb feet were in. You hears voices shout. They were coming closer. In a panic you remembered something your father had thought you. As quickly as you could you wobbled over to the door and stood in a way that would conceal you for a split second once the door was opened. A split second that could give you an advantage. You readied yourself, pounding onto your thighs with your fists to warm up your muscles and praying they wouldn’t give up on you.

A moment later it was quiet behind the door and you almost thought whoever was in front of it had left. Then, with a bang that nearly toppled you over it swung open and you pounced. Your fists made contact with a solid body and only your momentum made the man stumble a little to the side before another one grabbed your shoulders. Yelling from the top of your lungs you fought as if your life depended on it until you heard it. “Calm down, Ms.___. We´re here for you! Your father sent us. Calm down!” You halted your movements and looked around. A massive man stood in the doorway, almost cutting off all light from the corridor. Another one stood to the side and it seemed like he was the one you pounced on first. Both men were clad in heavy armour and facemasks. The one holding your arms however was only slightly taller than you. Same facemask and armour though.

You were panting and looking around wildly until the man spoke again. “Are you all right, Ms.___? Can you walk?” His voice was stern, deep and only slightly hurried. You looked at him again as a little bit of relief washed over you. You nodded slightly before you spoke. “I think so” you rasped. The man lowered your arms and gave you a once over. Seeing your whole body shiver violently he sucked on his teeth and bellowed “Soap, Ghost, make sure the path´s clear. She´s not well on her feet.” With that he quickly but surprisingly gently wound an arm around your waist and guided one of yours over his shoulder, supporting you as you began to move. He might as well have been carrying you. The way all three of them moved was nothing short of deadly precision. It seemed though they had successfully killed everyone that was inside the run down building. The scene you where stumbling through looked like a badly orchestrated film set.

Several times you´d stopped behind the men named Ghost and Soap while they checked if the way was clear. When the man next to you dragged you outside it was pitch black. You couldn’t see for a second but trusted the man who was guiding you. It felt like an eternity that you stumbled, ran and slit through the night. Only your own panting and an occasional, softly grumbled warning from the man beside you. “To your left, Ms.___. Careful” “There´s a small hill up ahead” “Hold onto me” “Don´t let go, you´re doing great”

The moment you felt like your feet couldn’t go no further you heard Ghost and Soap opening car doors in front of you. Finally, with the prospect of sitting in a safe vehicle with people that were there to rescue you, you collapsed onto the bench in the back and began hysterically crying. Sobbing, you curled up onto the seat, yet again realising that your limbs were cold as ice and aching. As the vehicle began to move you felt the soldier that had been jumping into the back with you move. A moment later a heavy warm blanket was thrown over your shoulders. Grabbing onto it like a life line you scrambled to throw it around your feet.

“Hold on” the man said gruffly and took your hands in his. “Shit” he grumbled and kneeled down in front of you. Almost hectic he pulled the blanket over you more tightly before removing your shoes. You were whimpering in protest but he just looked up at you. Pleadingly. You stopped struggling immediately. Why was he looking at you like that? Your vision blurred as you tried to make out his features. He´d removed the facemask.

A full beard, moustache and mutton chops, a full lower lip, piercing blue eyes. Blue, so blue. His hands were still moving until your feet were out of your shoes and soaked socks. Compared to your feet, his hands were scolding hot as he began rubbing your feet with them, all the while not breaking eye contact. “We need to warm them up” he whispered. You simply nodded and another tear rolled down your cheek. “I know” he said and held your feet. “I know. It´s over,___. It´s over.”

It took you a moment to realise that he´d just used your first name. You nodded your head. “Over” you whispered and began silently crying again. For another few minutes, the soldier constantly rubbed your feet as fatigue clouded your mind. You felt your body fall forward. Another moment later the soldier caught your falling and guided it onto the seat again. He gently pushed a little further so you lay down on the seats. With the last remains of your strength you felt him wrapping you up in the blanket, a little feeling returning to your feet.

“What´s your name?” You thought he hadn´t heard you because it was a mere whisper that left your lips. Then you saw those eyes again, right in front of your face as a gentle warm hand removed a strand of hair from your forehead. “John Price” he said in a calm tone. “My name is Captain John Price.”

Dull voices reached your ears and slowly you came to. “…do you mean, dead?” “It´s dead, what can I tell you?” “Bastards! They sabotaged the gas tank. There´s a hole in it.”

Holding your head you sat up realising that the car had stopped. The captains head moved towards you. Quickly he moved to your side. “I´m afraid we´re broken down. We need to walk the rest of the way to the evac-point.” He looked at you apologetically. “How are your feet?” His hand moved underneath the blanket and gently stroked your feet, checking their temperature. “I´ll be fine” you said, moving your toes. “They´ve warmed up quite well.” The captain nodded. He only seemed half optimistic.

“Here” he handed you something from his duffle bag. “Your shoes are dry now but your socks are a mess. Wear those. They…might me a bit big.” If the situation hadn’t been any different you would have laughed at the way he said it. As you moved your still aching muscles and pulled on the socks and your shoes you looked at him and asked “How long do we have to walk?” His shoulders sacked for a moment and dread filled your veins. He opened the doors in the back, threw out his duffle bag and jumped out. Turning towards you he held out his hand to help you get out of the car. When your hand moved into his, you were again astounded by its warmth. “I´m afraid it´s quite a walk” he said as you jumped and stood in front of him.

Looking up slightly into his face you were able to make out more in the pale light of dawn. His mutton chops accentuated slight chubby cheeks and a freckle dusted nose. Damn. He was handsome. You were pretty sure that his stature was not only this bulky because of the gear he was wearing. His shoulders stood out in relation to his narrow waist and big thighs. You swallowed hard when you realised that his hand still held yours. “We´ll take one day at a time. You´re safe” he repeated with conviction to make you believe.

“Price.” The massive man you´d seen before called out to him. The captains hand let go of yours and a shiver ran down your back. All three men stood in front of you, ready to leave. “It´s a three day hike. We have to cross a border for them to pick us up otherwise there´s going to be a problem. Officially-” John Price looked at you with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We´re not even here.”

You again nodded and prepared for a long walk. John stepped in front of you for a moment and as to reassure himself that you were ready, tucked the blanket you were still wearing tighter around your shoulders before leaning his head to the side for a moment. Looking up at him you tried to smile reassuringly. He didn’t seem quite convinced but nodded his head once before gesturing you to move in front of him. You followed the other men that waited a bit down the road.

Soon however you made a right and left the deserted road. The sun began to rise and you could see that the man named Ghost lead you towards a mountain range. You gulped. You weren’t nearly as fit as these three men and frankly felt bad for them as they marched on in their armour, holding their weapons and duffle bags. The paths you took gradually became more narrow and more steep. Your feet began to hurt again but not because of the cold this time. You´ve walked quite a way in a tempo that you weren’t used to and a terrain that was less than forgiving.

When you reached some sort of level ground you were panting and sweating. Trying not to make it obvious that you were out of shape compared to your rescuers, you tried to gulp down the pants and discreetly wiped the droplets of sweat from your forehead. To your left and your right, massive walls of stone reached up into the sky, making the path in front of you quite dark although it must have been midday by now. It seemed like Ghost lead you down a huge gash right between the mountain when the path suddenly fell into a steep decline. With an agile elegance that you wouldn’t have guessed coming from a man like him, Ghost began climbing down.

“Soap.” You turned around to the commanding voice and the man with the mohawk turned around right on the edge of the decline. “Switch places with me. I need your eyes in the back.” Soap nodded immediately and walked passed you. He sent you a friendly little smirk just as John Price came to a halt next to you. “You´ll need your hands for this, there´s loose rubble all along this path” he said and took the blanket from your shoulders. The look in his eyes was almost pained. “Sorry” he said as he rolled up the blanket and stuffed it in his bag. “Here, this´ll help for now. Uhm…” he rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a long sleeve, olive green shirt. Holding it out to you he looked quite sheepish. “I´m sorry I…I had to use it before we got to you so…it´s not fresh or anything, but It´ll have to-“ You grabbed it immediately and gave him a grateful smile. “It´ll do just fine, thank you, Captain.” You pulled it over your head immediately, so you didn’t see John blink several times or the curious look Soap shot his Captain.

When you emerged from the too big shirt you nervously looked at the pathway before you. “Don´t worry” John said and gently touched your shoulder. “Ghost will be scouting, I´ll be right in front of you and Soap behind. Nothing´s going to happen.” His raspy voice and still scorching warmth gave you a funny yet very pleasant feeling in your guts. “Okey” you said and took a breath. “Okey.”

So, with the captains huge back in front of you, you started climbing down. You were slow. Many times you needed the help of either John or Soap. Soap gave you a hand in climbing up and John was there to either pull you up or help you jump down, always there to catch you. Every time, you noticed your temperature rise and you felt like it had nothing to do with the workout. The callouses of his hands felt better and more comforting than any soft, warm comforter you´ve ever owned. You really needed to keep it together.

Just when you were close to asking for a break you saw the path opening onto a small platform. With a gulp you saw that it was the edge of a cliff. Several hundred feet it fell down granting you a stunning yet frightening few of a sunset over a dusty, rocky landscape only ever so often interrupted with patches of green. Ghost was standing to your right were the platform thankfully expanded. When Soap landed next to you, he lead you over to were Ghost and Price were unpacking a few items from their bags. “We´ll have to stay here tonight. Giving there´s only two ways onto this platform it´s the safest we can be tonight” Price said as he handed you your blanket. “Safest?” you asked carefully. “I thought…but, they were all dead.” Your voice panicked slightly as the three men exchanged dark looks. “At least one of them must have gotten out” Soap grunted. “Otherwise they wouldn´t have had the time to sabotage out gas tank.”

“If they decided to come after us, we´ll be prepared” Ghost said in a level voice. Your heart was thumping in your chest and an overwhelming feeling of guilt filled your every cell. You hung your head as you carefully sat down, hissing slightly. “Your feet?” John immediately asked, kneeling in front of you. You shook your head not being able to look at him. “Muscle ache” you mumbled. John grunted and moved to hand you a water bottle. “I´m afraid I have to ask you not to drink the whole bottle at once. We´ll have to watch out for another water source.” John again sounded like he was about to punch himself. Maybe because you wouldn’t look at him? Aaaand there went another wave of guilt so you lifted your head and tried to smile. John sighed and his eyes took on a much warmer look. “There´s no need to put on a brave face,___.” Your name on his lips again sent a shiver through your body. “You can sleep. I´ll watch over you.”

Your eyes widened at his phrasing but he didn’t look away from you. Somehow his face seemed so familiar, you could look at him forever and never get enough. “Thank you, Captain” you whispered lamely because your brain wasn’t able to conjure up anything else. To your surprise John began to chuckle for a second and again looked you deeply in the eyes. With the setting sun in his back and the light blitz of his teeth you could almost forget the situation you all were in. He looked maddeningly handsome. The sheen of red in his hair coloured it almost auburn.

Along with his beard and cerulean eyes you were so, so tempted to lean forward but then John spoke again in a low, quiet voice. “John” he said and chuckled again when you looked at him questioningly. “Call me John. No need to use my title.” Your mouth opened slightly. “I can´t possibly-“ He shook his head and gave you a playfully stern look. “I´m afraid I must insist.” With these words he handed you a protein bar and pulled his duffle bag closer. “Use this as a pillow. We can´t make a fire but with the blanket, I think you´ll be alright.” He gave you a small smile that this time actually reached his eyes and you liked that one much, much more before he stood up and walked over to Ghost.

How am I supposed to sleep with his image in my head? You wondered before you tried to make the piece of rock as comfortable as possible. Your concern was futile however. As soon as your body somewhat relaxed it shut down. With your eyes on John´s back you felt them drooping quickly and exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You awoke what it felt like hours later. Not having slept longer than an hour at a time while being imprisoned, the knowledge of three soldier watching over you let your body and mind finally get the rest it needed. Still, when you opened your eyes, your back hurt slightly from the hard ground and your feet still ached from the march. Blinking you realised that the sun wasn´t quite up yet. Only a slight blue fog hung low over the land you were overlooking. Turning your head to the side you saw Ghost´s massive back standing close to the pathway you´d came down just hours before. His weapon in his arms, breathing evenly. You groaned quietly when you sat up and rubbed your neck. Soap was leaning on the stone wall to your right, his head bobbing up and down while he slept. A little further ahead you saw John. He was standing in front of the beginning of what seemed like the pathway down. You gulped. The path was quite broad for what it was but to the left it fell several hundred feet. No railing or security.

You stood and walked over to the Captain. When you were only a few steps away from him he turned his head to the side and watched you as you came to a halt beside him. “Did you sleep at all?” you asked quietly in a whisper. He hummed as he smiled to himself, adjusting his weapon in front of his chest. “ I slept enough.” It was your turn to hum, although yours sounded more disbelieving. John had to bite back a grin. “Are you rested enough? We´ll have to walk quite a way today.” He sounded concerned. You sighed. “I´m sorry” you said. John´s eyes took on an almost pleading look as he shook his head. “I must be such a millstone around your neck. I´m…I´m slow-“

“___” John said your name sternly. You didn’t dare look at him so you stared ahead while tears welled up in your eyes. When John spoke again, his voice had taken on a much gentler tone. “___. We don´t care about your level of fitness or whether you´re fast or not. We came to get you back home safe. That´s our mission. And if it takes us longer or one of us has to carry you the whole way, we don´t care. We care that we found you alive, first an foremost.”

You nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “You´re doing your job” you said and shrugged but somehow that sentence stung like hell. A flash of the same hurt crossed John´s face at the same moment but none of you saw the other. “It´s not just that” he mumbled into his beard without you hearing it.

Then he continued slowly. “We were deployed under the strict command of your father. He might…not show it much but, he´s quite worried about you.” You couldn’t help it. You scoffed pretty loudly and gave John a look that spoke volumes. “I believe he sent you. But you don’t have to say things that just aren’t true to make me feel better. I highly doubt he´s worried about me. He´s more likely to be worried about what this whole situation is doing to his reputation.” John was quiet for a while, then he said in a level voice. “I won´t presume to know what the relationship with your father is like. All I´m saying is that I saw his face during the briefing. It didn’t seem to be the face of a man that didn’t care about his child.”

You felt bad all of a sudden. Your father and you might have grown apart and distant, but did that mean that the love was actually gone? When shit hit the fan would you still be there for your parents? The answer was simple. Yes. And that made you feel even worse. You sniffled again when you thought about how low you´ve thought of your father. His role wasn’t an easy one and he sacrificed a lot for his career. You were still convinced that neglecting his family or becoming a cold and distant person was not the way to go but who were you to judge? You took the easy way out as well.

“Damn” you mumbled and wiped at your eyes. That seemed to only make it worse and the full extent of what had happened to you hit you full force. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” You started crying. In front of the most handsome man you had ever met. Perfect. You didn’t hear him move over your sniffling and your whimpers. All of it seized at once when you felt two huge arms around your shoulders. You were gently being pulled into a massive chest. The gear vest he was wearing was definitely not comfortable but you couldn’t have cared less at this point. You buried your face in it and held onto his waist with both hands, fisting his shirt. “It´s okey” you heard his low vibrato voice above you. “It´s okey. You´re safe. You´re safe” he was saying it as if to reassure himself of the fact that you actually were.

He held you against him for as long as you were still hiccupping and your forehead was pressed to his chest. He didn’t let go even the slightest.

John´s POV

Fuckin´ hell, he thought. If it weren´t for his vest you´d probably hear and feel his heart going ballistic in his chest. He didn’t blame you. How could he? You weren’t military and all that had happened to you must have been the happenings of nightmares. And still you allowed yourself only to break down now. He admired you for that.

He also didn’t blame you for not remembering him. Your meeting had been only the briefest of moments and you hadn’t really looked at him at all that night when you were introduced to him, but John? He couldn’t move his eyes away from you all throughout the festivities. He wasn’t used to nor did he like these functions much either so he very much understood your demeanour, whishing he would be allowed to show the same kind of disinterest in the glitz and glam.

The night had been dull until you were introduced to him. The moment his eyes locked briefly with yours, it felt like his world was turned upside down. He knew your disinterest wasn’t directed at him, he could feel it. John wanted so desperately to talk to you, get to know a bit more about you. He wanted to pick your brain about everything. To him you were electric, thrumming with honesty and simply radiant. So very different from himself.

And then, he´d lost sight of you. He was moving around the ground floor of the house with searching eyes trying to get one more glimpse. Just one more and he´d be happy. But he couldn’t find you again. Not in the living room, not in the tea room, not in the kitchen. His heart heavy with disappointment he bid his goodbye and left. He lay awake that night longer than usual. Your face, your grace and your dress in front of his inner eye for hours, days on end. He hadn’t seen you since then.

When he was called in for a hostage situation he thought he was prepared. The moment his eyes fell upon your father he knew he wasn’t. At first he begged the heavens that it was your brother that had been taken. It was so wrong of him, he knew that, but at least Alexander knew how to react in these situations. And then your name fell and so did his whole heart. Panic and worry flooded his system along with immeasurable anger and determination. He couldn’t let anybody know so he steeled himself and put on his mask. Your father directed some words at him in particular without knowing that John was internally roaring at him for not looking out for you. For just letting you out of his sight.

His tongue was glued to his palate so he only gave a short nod and a grunt before he turned around to collect his best men for the job. He had to collect himself. It wasn’t your fathers fault. No one could have thought that with your brother out there you´d be a high value target. You were a civilian. But then again that was probably why they chose to take you and not your brother. His blood began to boil and he knew if they found you injured or hell forbid, dead, he would wreak havoc among the bastards that dared lay a hand on you.

When they´d found you, alive and quite literally kicking, his chest had expanded with pride, relief and unbelievable affection. He was grateful that he´d had the chance to quench his bloodthirst when they´d started shooting first.

Now, here you were. Safe with them. And even though the danger wasn’t quite over yet, holding you and you letting him, made him feel more human than he´d had in years. He wanted to shield you from everything that scared you, made you uncomfortable or worried. He wanted to be your source of happiness more than anything. You might´ve been crying into his chest but he knew that some of those tears were relief. The feeling of your hands holding onto him almost desperately made his temperature rise and his determination to see you to safety tenfold.

His arms pulled you in a little tighter, hoping you wouldn’t move back. To his delight, you didn’t. On the contrary. You slowly stopped sniffling before you detached your forehead from him and turned your head, pressing the side of your head to his chest, still holding onto him. One of his hands moved on its own accord, just because it felt so natural holding you. He lay it gently on top of your head, moving his fingers over your hair. He heard you sigh and it was the most beautiful melody he´d ever heard.

As soon as you were safe and sound, he´d make sure….sure that what? He saw you again? He´d ask you out? His insides twisted painfully when he thought about it all. How was this ever supposed to work? You were a civilian. He was a Captain in the military. There were people, civilians in his everyday life that didn’t even know his actual name. Another life had never been in the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t imagine another, could he? The moment they´d all jump out of the heli and you´d fall into your family´s arms, would that be the last time he ever saw you? His heart hurt at that. It hurt.

______´s POV

His warmth. His incredible warmth, the gentleness of his hand on the top of your head and his manly, earthy scent made you feel safer than you´d had in at least a decade. A feeling of content overcame you and you wondered why it was that you could feel something like attraction and excitement in a situation like this. Maybe you shouldn’t care, maybe you should just go with it and let yourself be swapped away for once. You had a feeling that with John, you´d actually make a great choice this time. He was a man of his word, one with the ability to calm and excite you at the same time.

You didn’t want to let go. He was cozy, strong and easily made you feel like everything would be okey. Your heart was doing somersaults when you decided to get just a tad closer. Your hands that were fisted in his shirt by his waist wandered around it now. His chest slightly expanded with a sigh when you settled your arms around his middle comfortably. Something touched the top of your head and you felt like crying all of a sudden. With a feeling of monstrous affection you realised that the Captain had rested his cheek on your head. Breathing in sync you tried to calm your racing pulse and the rushing in your ears.

You stood there for another few moments before John lifted his head. You moved yours as well to look at him. Both your arms around each other not moving an inch. John was smiling but his eyes held and expression you couldn’t quite place. He looked almost….sad. When you looked at him questioningly he schooled his expression, shook his head slightly and smiled a bit wider. Ever so gently he moved one hand and softly touched your cheek. You were just about to explode, forgetting everything. A spell. It had to be a spell he´d cast on you.

“The moment you need a break, you tell me” he whispered. “No feeling bad, a´right?” The rumble in his chest vibrated through you. The corner of your mouth twitched as you nodded once gently. “Thank you” John let go of you, again with that sadness in his eyes and you were quite sure that this time you reflected that same expression.

The day was long and quiet. You made your way down the mountain and going downward turned out to be even more a strain on your muscles than upward. Ghost and John were still in front of you, Soap behind. At one point he stuck up a conversation with you. It turns out the Scotsman was incredibly funny and quite capable to distract your mind from the pain in your muscles. Still, your vision more often than not stuck to John´s back while you got distracted.

Of course Soap noticed and bumped his elbow into your shoulder playfully. “Ya kno´, I´ve never seen the Captain so focused when it comes to a hostage situation” he said with a grin. You looked at him confused. “Usually we take everything seriously of course but a hostage is usually easier to get back than let´s say…a missile.” He shrugged, still grinning. “I-I guess?” you said slowly. Soap´s gaze landed on the Captain as well before he spoke again. “On our way here, he was as focused as he would be on missions way more dangerous than this. If I didn’t know any better, I´d say he was…rigid. Nervous” he gave you a sideways look. “He´s never, never nervous.”

It couldn’t be helped, you whole body flooded with hope. It made you lightheaded. Or maybe it was dehydration, you didn’t know yet. Soap sighed dramatically and gave your already speeding heart another kickstart. “He even bobbed his knee. Never seen him do that either. You sure you don’t know each other from somewhere?” Humming you raked your brain. Surely you wouldn’t forget a face like his. That ruggedly handsome face, the stern but laid back attitude. His whole being didn’t really seem to fit into any of the functions you would usually be introduced to people. But then again he was a Captain. And aside from what his rank was and that he was gentle, caring and frankly fucking hot, you didn’t know much about the man. It could be possible.

“I-I really don’t know” you answered truthfully. “It could be possible we´ve been introduced but…” you sighed and felt your face heat up. Soap chuckled next to you with a light “Aha”.

The closer you got to the base of the mountain, the hotter it got. At this point you couldn´t even remember ever having cold feet. Sweat was rolling down your back and temples and the light-headedness slowly became a problem. With the still quite steep cliff next to everyone, it worried you. When you turned what seemed like the last corner, you lifted your head from the path in front of you to look at John and Ghost. They were waiting a few meters ahead but they seemed to sway side to side. You reached out your hand to the right to stabilise yourself as your vision began to swim and nausea rose in your guts. Faintly you heard John call out your name and the next moment Soaps arm was around you. Your legs gave out and you sunk to the ground slowly. Not a second later John was kneeling at your side touching your face worriedly. His blue eyes open wide.

“Damn it, sweetheart. You promised” he said not caring about who heard him. “Ghost! Water.” Ghost handed him a full bottle and without hesitating he opened it and poured half of it down the back of your neck and over your head. It felt incredible and you let out a huge sigh. Next, John took your chin into his calloused fingers and lifted your face towards him. “Open” he grumbled. If you weren’t still slightly delirious it would have turned you on like nobodies business how he said it. You opened your mouth obediently while John held the bottle to your lips. Taking big gulps you felt the nausea fade little by little. Johns gaze was fixed on your lips while addressing the other two men.

“We´ll take a break here. Move into the shade over there. Soap, try to reach Gaz and Nick and see where they are. We´re about to reach the evac point early tomorrow morning.” The moment you were done drinking, John released the breath he was holding quietly and carefully wiped away a stray droplet of water from your chin. The gesture so fond your mouth twitched into a smile.

He moved slightly so you could look at him better and gave you a stern look. Before being able to apologise however he spoke. “Why didn’t you ask for a break? Dehydration isn't something you just walk off.” Again his hand moved to the side of your face and cradled it, his eyes swimming with worry. “I know. I´m sorry. I was about to ask…it overcame me quicker than I thought.”

Without thinking about it you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. You heard him take in a deep breath as he moved his thumb gently over your cheek. “Alright. We´ll take a break here. Come on, let´s get you into the shade.” He leaned over and pulled you upright. Just like the night they rescued you, he practically carried you over to where Ghost and Soap sat before letting you down, sitting next to you. “Sleep a little if you´re tired. We´ve almost got it.” You felt your limbs relax and groaned slightly. Before you knew it, John guided your drooping head onto his shoulder where it rested comfortably as you slept.

The next time you opened your eyes it was already dark. You jolted upright which made your head pound and looked around wildly. “___, calm down. It´s alright.” John was still next to you handing you some more water. “It´s dark already” you groaned. He nodded and gestured for you to drink. “We´re walking the rest of the way tonight. It´s only another four hours. Can you make it?” Dragging in air after you sat the bottle down you looked at him stubbornly. “Yes” you said simply. Looking around you realised you were alone. “Where are Ghost and Soap?”

“We spotted a stream further down. They are down there filling the water bottles. They´ll be waiting for us.” Your face fell again. “We´ve lost so much time” you whispered and leaned back into the stone. John shook his head. His face partially illuminated by the bright moon. “I´d much rather lose time than risk your wellbeing on the last stretch” he said earnestly. You looked at him again. Really looked at him. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper in this light, the edges of his face sharper and the light streaks of grey in his beard standing out more prominently. Neither of you spoke as a kind of understanding dawned in your eyes. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noticed your face getting closer and closer.

John´s POV

It was almost painful to look at the natural beauty the moonlight emphasized on your face. His breath caught in his lungs, his heart a single clump of worry and affection. He wanted to touch your face again, let his fingers feel the soft skin he feared he´d never get to touch again. Unknowingly his head moved forwards as well until your foreheads met and his nose slightly bumped yours. You closed your eyes and John swore for as long as he´d live, he´d remember this feeling. He´d treasure it in his heart until it gave out. He felt your hand on his and took it immediately. Squeezing it tightly he blew all caution to the wind and lifted it to his lips. When he brushed your knuckles he felt you take in a quick breath and saw you open your eyes again. Glittering and solely trained on him he waited with baited breath.

“You know me. Don´t you?” you whispered to him. He grasped your hand tighter again and nodded against your forehead. “Your parents´ spring party two years ago” he whispered. “You wore a pale blue summer dress” he took a deep breath and continued in a playful accusatory tone. “And you ignored me.”

Hearing you giggle made his whole world spin slightly faster. “I ignored everyone at that party” you said gently, your eyes boring into his. “Kind of whish I hadn´t now.” John´s heart nearly gave out at your confession. “I can´t believe I don´t remember you” you whined and again closed your eyes. “Will you stop putting yourself down, darling?” he asked and because he just couldn’t help himself, kissed the back of your hand again.

_____´s POV

The endearment he used made your whole body quiver. What was it about this man? It took every ounce of willpower in you not to move into him and close the gap.

“I´m just saying,” you said and slightly detached from him to look at him more earnestly. “If I´d paid more attention-“ “It doesn´t matter now,___” John said and squeezed your hand. “Besides” he bunched his eyebrows together. “I almost didn’t go to the thing. Those fancy gatherings…they´re not for me.” He smiled at you. The lines around his eyes again so prominent. You reached out and gently let your fingers glide over them. “Yeah” you said with a smile of your own. “I know the feeling.”

A few minutes later, John and you made your way down the rest of the way. To make sure you were okey, he didn’t let go of your hand until the dark shadows of his two team mates appeared. “___” Soap said quietly as you came into view. “You a´right?” You nodded and smiled at him. “I´m good, Soap. Thanks”

Without another word you started you started the last few hours of your journey. You followed Soap while John took his place behind you as you marched on. The moon was just bright enough to let you see where you were going but not much else. Which was ideal since you couldn’t use flashlights. Now that you reached level ground the last few hours went by without a hitch for you.

Eventually you heard John sigh behind you. “That´s it, we just crossed the border. If we were being followed, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to attack here.” Relief flooded your system and your pace picked up. Another half hour later and you could see a huge dark mass in the distance. Something was moving around it. John put his fingers to his ear. “Gaz, we´re 5 minutes out. Ready the heli.”

A few moments later the massive corpus of a helicopter came into view. It sat disguised by the dark and some rogue boulders far off the road. You noticed two other men waiting by the heli. A strapping young fellow jogged over to you. “Glad to see you all in one piece, Captain” he said as he got closer. “Gaz” John said and gave the man a hefty clap on the shoulder. “Well done.” The man named Gaz looked at you with a proud expression. “You too Ms.___. Your parents will be happy to see you unharmed.” You nodded weakly, the end of this nightmare making your legs shake.

John walked over to a second man that was casually leaning against the helicopter, you following him. “Nick” he said with a grateful tone. “Thanks for helping us out. Again.” The men shook hands in a way that you were sure would have crushed not only your entire hand but your forearm as well. “Anytime, Captain” the deep, dark voice of Nick answered with a thick Russian accent.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. You didn’t quite know what happened but all five men at the same time turned their heads towards the horizon behind the casually strewn boulders. Within seconds, Nick jumped into the open helicopter, Soap and Ghost ran over to the boulders, weapons drawn and aiming them at the horizon and John whirled you around to face him. “I need you to do exactly as I tell you.” His tone of voice changing dramatically with no room for disobedience. Fear paralysed you, so you just nodded. He shook his head. “Words.”

“Yes, I will.”

With a roar the helicopter came to life and John´s face was illuminated. An ice bold bucket emptied its contents into your innards. John had a look of fear in his eyes. His face was stone hard, his jaw set but his eyes wouldn’t leave yours. And then, in the distance you saw what they´d heard way before you did. Vehicles. Making their way quickly over to your location. Your eyes snapped back to John´s but before you could say anything, the hands that were holding your shoulders pulled you in as he crashed his lips onto yours.

Shock, warmth and even more panic rushed through your veins as the rotators of the helicopter began to turn faster and faster. John´s lips were insistent for as long as they were on yours. The moment he let go, he looked at you with a guilt. Over the gradually louder becoming sounds of the heli he almost had to yell at you. Regret and something determined in his eyes.

“Two years. Two years and I finally get to tell you that I love you!”

One more time he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you. You, in all the panic and happiness that you felt kissed him back with all your might.

That was until he let go, looked over your head at Gaz and roared “Get her home, Seargent!” Confusion and hurt were the things you felt most when two strong arms grabbed you from behind and all you saw was John´s retreating back. Readying his weapon and joining Soap and Ghost.

“No! No, what are you doing?! Gaz, let go!! Wait…JOHN!!” Gaz, without even having to struggle hauled you up into the helicopter. You were about to jump out again but the determined soldier held your fighting body back with one arm before the other one hammered against the door to the cockpit three times. “Take-off, Nick!” he yelled into the radio.

“NO! NO TAKE-OFF!” you screamed as loud as you could as tears ran down your face. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? THEY´RE STILL DOWN THERE!! YOU CAN´T LEAVE THEM HERE!!” The moment the helicopter left the ground the first few bullets soared through the air, at least five of them hitting it in rapid motions. Gaz pushed you down quickly, laying on top of you until you were high enough in the air and turning direction.

You couldn’t even hear what you were screaming anymore. All you heard were shots from both sides, scattering tires and then…an ear shattering explosion. Heat and the glowing of fire in the distance illuminating your face. It couldn’t be. It was not supposed to end this way!

“JOOOOOOOOOHN!!!”

___________________________________________________________

Sometime into the flight home, your body gave up on staying conscious. Your vocal cords hurting, your chest burning and no more tears to shed, you slipped under.

You only came to when the helicopter touched ground again and the flashing lights of an ambulance illuminated your face. It all happened very quickly. You were hauled onto a stretcher, lights were shone into your eyes and irritation flooded your body. So many voices…one in particular. “___” you heard the deep rumble of your father. He sounded relieved, almost choked up. “___, darling, can you hear me?” You opened your eyes and the memories came flooding back. Adrenalin surged through your body and with surprising strength you grasped onto your fathers wrist. “It´s okey, darling. It´s okey. You´re home. You´re safe” your father said and took your hand. You shook your head trying to speak.

“Stop” your father bellowed to the paramedics that were pushing your stretcher, leaning over you. “What is it, love?” You had some difficulty finding your voice. “John” you whispered. “Ghost, Soap. They´re still…They´re still…” tears ran down the side of your face and something dawned on your fathers face. Still holding your hand reassuringly he yelled for Gaz who came running over, saluting your father.

“Seargent” your father said in an irritated tone. “What happened?” Gaz took a deep breath. “Ambush, Sir. The Captain gave the order to leave them. We were only able to escape because they stayed.” Your father looked at your devastated, pleading face and then over to the Helicopter. Propped up as you were, you saw Nick standing next to it, lighting a cigarette. Your fathers eyebrows narrowed. “Do I even want to know who that is?” he asked sternly. Again, Gaz saluted. “With all due respect, Sir. No, you do not.” Your father nodded once and again looked at you, his expression softening.

“Seargent Garrick” he addressed Gaz who still stood there with an intact salute. “I sent four of my best men on this mission” His eyes narrowed as he gritted out his next sentence. “I expect four of them back!” Gaz swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

Seemingly satisfied with this answer your father jerked his head towards the helicopter and Gaz took off running. You saw how Nick stubbed out his cigarette and jumped back inside. A few moments later, they were off again. A little spark of hope settled in your aching chest. Your father leaned over you again, gently stroking your cheek. “Now” he said in a voice you hadn´t heard from him since you were a small child. “Let´s get you taken care of. Your mother is beside herself with worry.”

It was all bitter sweet. When you arrived at the hospital and wheeled into a fancy one patient only room, you mother jumped from the chair she was sitting in with a wail you´d never heard from her and threw herself onto you. Clawing at your dirty clothes and kissing your dirt smudged forehead you suddenly realised how old she looked. No makeup, hair haphazardly thrown into a bun on top of her head, she looked ages older and somehow more human than she had in a long, long time. Not being able to hold back anymore, you clung to her like a child and cried into her chest.

When your father entered the room all he saw was his wife and daughter in the same bed, cuddling and sleeping soundly. He couldn’t help the smile on his face, took a picture with his phone and sent it to his son. “Call me now” his message read underneath.

The next time you woke up, your mother was gone but in the chair beside your bed sat your father. When you stirred, he immediately perked up and took your hand. “Hey, sweety. How´re you feeling?” he said in a low voice. You smiled slightly. “Thirsty” you rasped. He nodded and got up to pour you a glass of water while you pushed the button on your bed to sit up. You took the glass from him and downed it quickly. “They´ve put an IV in you but I guess more water can´t possibly hurt” he said when he took the glass back from you. You nodded, staring at the IV in your hand.

So many things rushed through your head all at once and you didn’t know how to even begin. Apparently neither did your father. The silence stretched but then, your father spoke in a small voice that you´d never heard from him.

“I´m so sorry, sweetheart. This is all my fault.”

Hot tears welled in your eyes again as you shook your head. “It´s not” you said weakly but he shook his head. “The only reason you were taken is me and my position. I should have looked out for you! I´m so sorry.” You took his hand and squeezed it.

“I didn’t exactly let you” you said sniffling. “I basically ran away, remember?” He nodded, looking at your crumbled sheets. “I always thought my position and the hard work I put behind it would somehow make your and your brothers life easier.” He sighed. “You know, with the reputation and the benefits that came with it. I wanted to open all doors for you.” You nodded. “Along the way however, I didn’t even realise that I closed some of these doors again myself. Because they wouldn’t fit into said reputation.” He again shook his head in disbelieve. “How foolish.”

“Please look at me” you said. Your fathers eyes met yours and something raw catapulted itself out of your chest when you saw his eyes. “Please don’t ever think that neither Alexander nor I don’t know what you´ve sacrificed. We just couldn’t understand it when we got older. You became…distant. And Mum…downright obsessed with perfection. It was hard, especially for Alexander to understand what was asked of us. And, I´m so sorry to say but in my opinion, Alec took the blow.” Your father nodded and looked more ashamed than you´d ever seen him. “He took the blow so I could be myself. So I could rebel. He took on the work, I took on the disappointment.”

“Neither of you have ever been a disappointment” came a small voice from the door. Turning your head you saw your mother walking over to you with tears in her eyes. “It all got out of hand so quickly. Your father climbing the ranks, the social responsibility that came with it. The constant questions and comparisons” she wiped at her eyes. “At one point we thought what society expected of our children, we should expect from out children. We were wrong. So wrong.” She shook her head, her mouth in a straight line. “I think none of us ever forgot the love we have for one another but…priorities shifted and we all got frustrated at some point and we all showed that. All except Alec, of course. He always just tried to…keep it all together” a sob escaped her and she shook her head vehemently.

“No more, I say” she said resolutely and looked at your father challengingly, who nodded with wide eyes, staring at her like he´d just seen her for the first time. “No more of this nonsense. I love throwing parties. But not when the people attending are trying to tell me what to expect from my family. You-” she looked at your father, “have worked yourself to the bone and it paid off. You deserve to rest on your laurels.”

Your father smiled at her fondly. “And frankly” she inhaled a deep breath while you stared at her with an open mouth. “I don’t give a damn if Bernadett What´sHerFace-worthy doesn’t approve of it. She can stick it up her-“

“OKEY, Mum. I think we get it” you said loudly. Little red flecks of rage had formed on your mothers face before she took one look at your dumbfounded face and started giggling. It felt like something huge lifted itself off of your chest. The next moment you dissolved into tears while your parents either kissed your temple or hand. “I wish Alec was here” you hiccupped a few moments later.

“He´ll be here within the next hour” your father said with a look at his watch. You looked at him confused. “I-I thought he was deployed.”

“He was” your mother said with a careful tone. “Oh, darling. You were so exhausted. You-You were out for a while.” Your heart beat faster. “How long?” you asked.

“Two whole days.”

Alexander arrived about an hour later like your father had said. Throwing down his bag he hurried over to you and hugged you close for several minutes. His black hair seemed dull and greasy and his eyes were sunken in. He looked like he hadn’t slept in several days. “You look awful” you said in a light tone. Chuckling he leaned back and nodded. “I know, I know.” He heaved a sigh through his nose. “I haven’t slept much. I was bloody worried about you. Just sitting somewhere, not being able to help. I was so glad when Dad said he sent Captain Price. That man-“ he stopped talking when you started whimpering. “___?” he asked carefully.

“There was an ambush at the evac point” you stuttered out through your sobs. “Gaz and Nick brought me back but John” you took a shaking breath. “John and the others stayed to make sure we could escape.” Alex looked at you and tried to console you. “Oh,___, I´m so sorry you had to see that. The Captain surely didn’t make this decision lightly. But trust me, he´s one of the most capable men I´ve ever-“ “There was an explosion” you whispered and looked at your brother with wet eyes. His face fell and there was nothing more he could say. Instead he took you into his arms again and let you cry into his shoulder.

“By the way” Alexander eventually said to try and take your mind off of the Captain and his fate. “What the heck did you say to Dad? He wrote me a message to call him and didn’t use any exclamation marks.” You rubbed at your eyes and looked at his face. “Told him the hard truth. How it was growing up with him and Mum. We´ve had some…conversations.” Alexander nodded and smiled brightly at you. “It was about time they heard it.” He looked grateful. “Thank you for doing the hard part. I can´t remember the last time Dad pulled me in for a hug.” You shook your head. “You´ve don’t the hard part for years. It was nothing.” Alexander gave you a stern look, almost scolding.

“I don’t want to be that person,___, but I´m not sure you realise. You almost died a few days back. The chances of getting you back were slimmer than you might imagine.”

A cold feeling ran down your back and again you were reminded of the heroes that saved your life. And quite possible sacrificed theirs to do so. Two years and I finally get to tell you that I love you.

“They can´t be gone” you said with a think voice. “He can´t be gone” You shook your head in defiance. Your phrasing let your brother perk up and sincerely he hoped, that he didn’t give Captain Price too much credit.

You were released quite quickly after you woke up. Other than being exhausted and your feet having seen better days, your body was fine. Your parents brought you home with them for a few days so you wouldn’t be alone. It was a little strange to be in your spotless childhood home that hadn’t exactly invoked the best of feelings in you for the last couple of years.

Now however, your family sat at the ginormous kitchen island together, drinking wine, you mother cooking her favourite Italian dish and no one caring about whether a stray spaghetti fell onto the marble countertop or you father laughed so hard at something Alec said that he spilled wine everywhere before being able to set his glass down.

You looked around the faces of the people you loved. Noticing how your brother started to look like your father more and more and for one, that thought didn’t make you sad or mad. You saw your mother smiling and giggling like she used to and not looking like she constantly smelled something bad. Why hadn’t this been possible before you almost lost your life.

“Promise me something, all of you” you said and looked at all of them. Their attention was on you instantly. “Please let´s not forget that this,” you gestured around your family and yourself. “Could have been us all along. We can´t get back to old patterns.” You looked at your mother who smiled with wet eyes. “I´m not saying I particularly enjoyed being abducted but-“ you had to grin a little. “It showed us all very clearly what was important in the end. Really important. I won´t run anymore.” Pointing at you father you said “You will stop being distant and show us that you love us, damnit.” Your father nodded his head strongly and whispered a ´promise´.

“You” you pointed at your brother. “You will stop trying to be Dad all the time. You´ve already accomplished so much! Slow down.” Alexander gave you a mock salute. “And you” you moved your head towards your mother. “Please for the love of all that is holy, take that stick out of your arse and be your own person. Have your own mind and opinions.” Your mother looked at you proudly before rounding the kitchen island and hugging you close to her chest, kissing your head several times.

That night you lay in bed, body not hurting much anymore, slightly drunk on wine and happiness that your family found each other again. And yet, deep, deep hurt settled in your guts. You had your family back and lost the man you were falling in love with. You knew it the moment he said it. His image and touch never left your mind and you worried and cried each night, wondering if he was alive. If Gaz and Nick had reached him, Ghost and Soap. It had almost been a week since the moment he´d kissed you and you were nowhere near ready to accept that his demise was an option. It scared you more than anything. You decided to ask your father to get some inside information on the matter in the morning.

A knock on your door woke you up. “___” your mothers voice came through the door before it opened and she stuck her head in. “___, darling, please get up. Breakfast is ready.” She was grinning ear to ear and somehow that made you nervous. “What´s going on?” you asked as you got out of bed. “Nothing” you mother sang before she moved away from the door. “Hurry, though” she added before walking down the stairs. You shook your head before getting dressed, checking on your hair and brushing your teeth.

Halfway down the stairs you heard the voices of several men and halted immediately. Your heart was jumping around your ribcage as you tried to make out what they were saying. You heard a Scottish lilt and immediately started thundering down the last steps and ran into the living room. Almost running into the couch you scattered to a halt as soon as you saw the bulking mass of Ghost standing at the bay window and Soap, who had been talking to your brother before you came in. Now, he regarded you with a brilliant smirk and a wink.

Before you could do much else, you sprinted forward and hugged Soap quickly, tears rolling quietly down your cheeks. “Aww, no need for tears, now” he said and patted your back affectionately. “You´re okey” you whispered as you let go of him and regarded both soldiers with a tearful laugh. “You´re both alright” you wiped at your eyes. Soap chuckled. “Yep.”

But that would mean…You turned and scanned the room. Through the open French doors you could see into the kitchen but there was only your mother. Your brother, Soap and Ghost were all in the living room with you. Soap seemed to know who you were looking for and pointed his eyes over to the door that lead into your fathers office.

Said door opened right then and there. Your father walked out with a satisfied look on his face. Behind him, the man that had been hunting your good and bad dreams emerged. Time seemed to stand still.

You were only used to seeing him in his gear, tactical vest and all. This version of him wore washed out jeans, boots, a black V-neck sweater and a navy blue beanie. He´d never looked more attractive. His eyes found yours immediately and his first action was to take his beanie off his head before he took several long strides towards you. His arms held you the moment your knees gave out and you started sobbing into his strong chest. Finally being able to fully feel his body underneath your palms you weren’t that surprised to see that the man was actually built like a tank.

Your arms wound around his waist, palms spread across his back while you shook in his arms. “Shhh” he whispered into your hair. “It´s okey, darling. I´m here.” Your sobs became momentarily more intense before slowly dying down. Now, just sniffling, your face was still resting on one of his pecks, you felt his heartbeat strong and quick against your skin and it calmed you down like nothing else. You lifted your head and looked at him. It felt like seeing him again after years of yearning and missing him. Oh, did you miss him.

His eyes were slightly wet and swimming with happiness as he took your face in his hands. “I was so worried about you, are you broken?” he asked in a quiet voice and looked you up and down. You huffed incredulously. “Me, John? Me? You were the one we left there. Being shot at…Are you alright?” He nodded his head gently and leaned his forehead against yours again. It was a feeling like coming home. “I had to make sure you got out of there. That was my first priority. I´m sorry I put you through all that.”

Your hands moved from fisting his sweater, to gently palming his chest and finally snaking your arms around his neck. He smiled lovingly at you and pulled you closer by your waist. “Listen” he said hesitantly before he rushed out “I know this is your parents house and I really don’t want to piss off your father but damn it, my love, I missed you so much I-“

“Kiss me already, you big oaf” you said with a smile before finally pulling him down towards you.

His lips connected with yours in a much gentler way than the first time. Everything seemed better. His lips softer, the air sweeter, the day brighter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but his breath on your lips, his beard slightly scratching your skin and his earthy scent in your nose. Playfully he nipped on your lower lip before you giggled and opened your mouth.

Groaning he moved a hand into your hair and let his tongue glide over yours once, slowly, sensually before moving back slightly and panting.

“Fucking hell, baby. There´ll be time for that. I´ll make time for that but maybe not here, yeah?” Your head was spinning but you nodded deliriously and with a dopey smile on your face. It felt like walking on clouds being in his arms. He hugged you close again and you melded into him for what felt like hours. One of his big hands cradled your head, the other one gently raking over your back. John´s nose buried in your hair.

From the corner of your eye you could see your family and friends sending you smiles and some thumbs up. Grinning again you detached from John to tell him what´s been burning on your tongue for days.

“I'm falling for you” you whispered.

John´s eyes went wide and his chest expanded quickly. “You are?” he asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You nodded and stroked his cheek. “I am. I was so scared. I saw the explosion and I thought-I thought-” John looked at you apologetically. “You saw it?” he asked and rubbed your back soothingly. “I´m sorry, darling. That was Soap actually. He´s pretty good at making things go ´KA-BOOM´. Saved our arses.” He kissed your forehead. “We got out. We´re alright. I´m here and you´re with me.” Happily you nodded your head and looked at him with all the love and admiration you felt.

“My hero” you said with a grin. John pulled a face before kissing your lips once more.

“No hero, baby. Just me. Just yours.”

____________________________________________________-

Thank you very much for reading such a long oneshot :D You guys are amazing. Please consider interacting with this post. What helps most is feedback. So comments and reblogs are hugely apreciated.

Thank you all very much <3

#x reader #cod men #cod fic #cod x reader #x you #cod mwii #x you fluff #captain john price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price #Captain John Price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader #john price imagine #john price #captain john price

654 notes · View notes

b33zlebubz · 4 months

Text

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER TWO - an interrogation

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

"You've got the wrong person."

"I can assure you we don't."

"Then what the fuck did I do?"

Price sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, staring out the one-sided mirror that separates him from the interrogation taking place. The room is dark save for the mirror, the laptop in front of him, and the red-yellow embers of his third cigar in the span of an hour. He fidgets uselessly with it, rolling the paper between the fingers in his right hand while the other clutches a pair of dog tags. The metal feels twice as cold in his palm as he listens to the two people in the room in front of him.

Laswell looks tired—typically perfect hair beginning to fall from her bun and the bags under her eyes deeper than usual. He doesn’t doubt he looks the same, if not worse. Despite the majority of the day dead and gone, the only thing they have to show for the amount of time spent in this room is a quickly filling tray of cigarette ashes and a messy desk of conflicting files, open laptops, and empty mugs of both tea and coffee.

"Nothing. We just have some questions regarding your birth family."

You chuckle bitterly, your voice strained from the day's events even through the intercom. "You had me kidnapped and nearly killed for a couple of questions?"

Laswell's mouth opens and then snaps shut again.

Price flips the dog tags through his fingers like the world’s most unlucky coin.

"This isn't an interrogation," she eventually responds. "We’re trying to help you.”

“Then why am I in an interrogation room?”

He thinks its hard to find anything surprising, nowadays. Price thought he saw pretty much everything there was to see already. He’s traveled the world, faced every obstacle with bared teeth and clenched fists. He’s seen death in all its forms, he’s seen someone come back from death—and yet, this was a new problem. One he hadn’t encountered before. A mission he, for once, didn’t know how to approach.

He sighs, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees as he watches Laswell shuffle through papers. This is usually what the chief specialized in—getting intel—but it appears even she's left flustered and clueless with how to handle the iron will of a shell-shocked teenager.

You’re sitting in a similar position as Price himself as you sit across from Laswell; a too-big S.A.S. sweater on your shoulders paired with sweatpants of a similar fit, your previous clothes ruined with blood. Eyes downcast, hands clasped and shaking; Price can’t imagine the things running through your head. He felt even worse that they didn’t have spare shoes, leaving you in your untied sneakers stained red-brown with the blood from earlier that day.

You’re lost in thought. You try to focus on what Laswell says, but her questions seem to go in one ear and then back out the other if you don't snap with a sarcastic comeback. Laswell swallows heavily, much more used to this routine involving adults with war crime lists as long as the very building is tall. She’s being gentle—well, as gentle as she can manage given your sharp tongue—but you haven’t given them any answers since you showed up.

You're scared. You want answers. Anyone in your situation would be the same.

So, after a few more minutes of talking and getting nowhere, Laswell stands. She spares you one last, sympathetic look before crossing the room to the door—where she leaves the room in favor of the small office Price resides in. A long breath leaves her as she stops at the table, lifting her arms and then letting them fall back to her sides in defeat.

“Nothing,” she breathes.

Price nods. He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales the smoke in a heavy sigh.

“Figures,” he says, leaning over to snuff the embers out in the dish. “Simon scared ‘em shitless.”

Laswell scoffs. Shaking her head, she drops the file on the desk with a slap before sitting down herself—rubbing her tired face. Her gaze falls to you sitting alone in the room, her brow furrowed tight. In all his years of working with her, Price doubts he’s seen someone get under her skin like this in a long time.

“We can’t wait for answers—not with the news spreading like this.”

He hums. “You’re right. We can’t.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” She asks, genuinely. “Because this isn’t working. The kid's not talking until we tell them what's going on."

Price is silent for a moment. None of the team had expected anyone else to catch wind of your location so quickly—nor had they expected such an organization like the Shadow Company to get involved. What was supposed to be a silent search-and-rescue mission turned into something more of an ambush. Something Price knows Graves will eventually seek repercussions for.

He feels his stomach twist from the thought, but he shakes it from his head. Right now, proving to you that you weren’t in any danger was his priority. The sooner you felt safe, the sooner you would answer questions—the sooner Price could formulate some semblance of a plan going forwards.

He pushes himself to his feet. “Then we'll just have to give 'em what they want."

Laswell sighs, “John—”

“We owe the kid answers, Kate,” He insists. "We have for a long time. Far too long."

“And if Graves or someone worse gets to them? What happens then…when they give up intel?” Laswell argues. “We’ll just have to keep them until they’re ready to give up answers. It’s the only way to make sure we don’t get compromised if shit hits the fan again.”

Price’s brow furrows. He looks back out into the interrogation room for a moment, at how you stare down at the table wiping your bruised face on your sleeves. Laswell is right, of course—she usually is. If you gave up sensitive information to save your own skin after everything you’ve been through, nobody would blame you. It could ruin everything, and it would be his fault, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.

He turns to Laswell again, his voice low as he steps closer. Palms flat on the desk, he leans down to her level. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

Laswell just stares at him for a second, her gaze hard in calm resolve. She seems to consider his preposition, carefully weighing the pros and cons as she searches Price’s gaze for any hint of self-doubt. As usual, she finds none.

She sighs again, shakes her head, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table.

"Fifteen minutes, Captain." She says, resolute, as she lights a cigarette between her teeth. "That's all you get."

Fifteen minutes. He’s saved lives with less, but yet he still finds himself taking a nervous breath as he grasps the doorknob anyway. Up until this point he hasn't officially met you. In a perfect world, he probably never would have needed to.

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens the door.

Immediately, your eyes dart up to meet his. Your expression is a tangled mess of things. Fear, maybe. Anger, definitely. There’s sadness and anxiety in there, too, as Price meets your gaze for a moment before padding inside. He makes a point to leave the door open behind him as he walks forwards, pulls the chair out, and sits down with his hands on the table. Your legs are pulled up to your chest now; arms hugging your knees as you stare up at him—defensive.

Like you're a cornered animal ready to bite.

You are, but that's besides the point.

He regards you for a moment, attempting to look past how you have your father’s eyes—bright and focussed and unrelenting underneath the deep, puffy bruise on your left eyelid. The wound looks old, at least by a few hours, so he knows it wasn’t caused by any of his men. Even the Shadows wouldn’t swoop so low as to hurt you without reason.

"Nice eye," is all he says.

Immediately, you look away, suddenly self-conscious as you wipe at the aching, bruised flesh. It hurts, that’s for sure, but you do a good job at hiding it.

"The other guy looked worse," you lie.

"A soldier?"

"No…" you clear your throat and shift, your shoulders easing just a little from exhaustion. "No. Some kid. Long story.”

"Ah," he chuckles a little, as if you aren't sitting across from him with your hands still stained in some dead guy's blood. "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

"Who are you?"

Hm. The dreaded question. For a second, Price debates how much he should tell you—and he knows Laswell is holding her breath hoping he'll hold his tongue, but you deserve answers. It's the least he could do.

The dog tags feel like they were burning a hole in his pocket.

"Captain John Price. British Special Air Service." He answers through a sigh as he sits back in his chair. "But you can just call me Price."

That furrow in your brow loosens just a little. Slowly, you remove your arms from around yourself, letting your shoes hit the linoleum flooring. Maybe you recognized his name somehow, or maybe you’re just relieved to be talked to like a human and not a cornered animal—but you’re more relaxed than you have been that whole day.

"And the woman?" You press.

"A friend," Price answers honestly. "She helped us find you. You can trust her, too."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

Price hesitates at that, glancing towards the one-sided mirror where he can feel Laswell watching. Then, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out the dogtags. He tosses them over and they slide across the metal table before landing in your hands. You turn the metal chips over in your palm, tracing the enamel with shaky hands. When you look back up at Price, it's in disbelief.

They're your father's.

"To make a very long story short: over a year ago he had a mission," Price begins. "Your old man was tasked with disarming a missile. He succeeded, changed the code...and died before he could deliver it. As of a month ago, it's been missing.”

It's a grossly summarized version of what happened over the course of the past year and a half, but Price figures he’ll spare you the details. Details like how your father was tortured for months before he was finally killed while escaping. Details like while he was stuck in enemy territory—you were all he would write about. Your interests. Your face. Your words.

You're silent for a moment, squeezing the cold metal in your palms. When you speak, it's quiet.

"That's a lie," you argue. "Dad died when I was five. In Mexico."

Price nods.

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But, like his kid—he wouldn’t go down easy.”

You let out a breath, sitting back against the chair as you digest the information handed to you. He watches dots string together in your mind as you mull over your whole life up until that very moment. He knows what you’re thinking of already; not because he ever met the man personally, but because with the past few months he spent reading and rereading every letter, email, and assignment report—he feels like he did. He knows you’re rethinking every letter your father sent you right up until his supposed “death" and every call promising his return soon.

He knows it’s a lot to take in, and that aching guilt in his chest rears its ugly head. He wished he could do more—apologize on behalf of your father, reassure you things would be fine, take you back to your home…but, alas, all of those things were impossible. So, instead, he’d answer whatever question you asked.

Because that was all he could do.

Almost a full minute passes before you speak again, quietly. "And why, exactly, am I so important?"

"Because your father kept a journal,” he answers promptly. “In that journal, he said you knew the code.”

You laugh bitterly. “It’s not like he was around to tell me—I don’t know shit.”

“I figured,” he sighs, nodding. “So, until we figure things out…you’re sticking with me and my men."

You bristle again, shoulders tensing. "I never agreed to that."

"I never gave you the choice," John hardens his tone, not leaving any room for argument. "It's what your father would've wanted. Those were his last orders."

At that, you fall quiet; your face scrunched with frustrated anger and unshed tears as you look away to steel yourself. John sighs and softens again.

"You’ll have a temporary room for the next few days. Then, Friday; you, me, and my team are moving to a different base to plan and gather intel. Everyone here answers to me, and if any of ‘em give you trouble—I’m never far away.”

He leans in close.

"I'm sorry, kid. Really," he says, "but you can't go home."

Finally, you nod in understanding, your gaze falling to the table. Lost in thought again, another long moment passes. He watches as you look down at the dog tags before, hesitantly, lifting them up and over your neck. They fall to rest at your chest as you clasp them before looking up at Price. You won’t ask the question—won’t admit what you’re thinking—but he meets your gaze with calm resolve as he speaks again.

"You'll be safe here," he says. “Alright?”

You purse your lips, thinking. John almost holds his breath, waiting for your response. Conflicting emotions swim in your eyes as you squeeze the metal on your neck.

He pretends not to notice the tears pricking your eyes as you swallow heavily and nod.

“Yeah…yes,” you choke out. “Not like I have anywhere to go, anyway."

After that, things go smoother. There were supposed to be more tests—more questioning, interviewing, and other supposedly mandatory things that would get everyone nowhere. Instead, Price decides to bypass all of it with Laswell’s permission. The walk to your room is silent, and he assures you, again, that nothing will happen to you here. He apologizes profusely, but he’s not sure you truly hear any of it—simply nodding and thanking him before the door is shut, and the halls are quiet.

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, slipping his hat off to run his hand back through his hair. There’s paperwork he has to do, a briefing to attend to, and he still has yet to touch base with Soap and Ghost about what exactly happened earlier that day. Despite it all, though—he feels somehow lighter. Months of tracking down your father’s only family coming to a close now that you were found and safe. Or, maybe, it was just because the dog tags were weighing him down.

Nevertheless, he barely spares himself a moment to recollect before his hat is placed back on his head, his expression is hardened again, and he finds himself walking back down the hallway—already itching for another cigar.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

267 notes · View notes

xjulixred45x · 6 months

Text

Soft Yandere SatuSugu x Darling Reader: Aditional Headcanons

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral/ some hints of Female

Warnings: YANDERE THEMES, Much shorter than the previous one,SOFT YANDERE GETO SUGURU AND SOFT YANDERE GOJO SATORU, UNHEALTY MINDSET, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, MANIPULATION, Gojo's god complex (minor), canon Divergent (Geto doesn't get corrupted...complelty), Gojo x Geto x reader, strange amount of DOMESTIC FLUFF.

FIRST PART FOR CONTEXT

IF WE CONTINUE WHERE WE LEFT OFF, Geto and Gojo continue to take you out of the house monthly for nights out. They can even change it to daytime outings and make it a much more domestic family day with Megumi, Tsumiki, Mimiko and Nanako.

going to some amusement park, going for walks around the city, to the dog parks (you and Megumi connect a lot thanks to this)--

SHOPPING! Gojo and Geto become threats in this area, they will buy everything you, the twins and Tsumiki want. In your case you just have to look at something for too long and it's yours. Even if you try to avoid it, it's already yours ;)

(don't notice too much that they feel a little guilty for putting you in that state of depression in the first place but they are too selfish to let you go apart from the fact that you are too adorable and pure to be contaminated by the world ---)

Ejemejem EJEM....Lets continue.

They would also LOVE it if you wanted to try on clothes with them, although of course it will take a lot of effort to keep their hands to themselves.

If someone tries something on these types of outings (whether harassing or flirting with you), rest assured they won't do it again :)

although of course, they won't let you see it, but you know better than to believe it when they say "I'll be right back" that doesn't mean they're going to get water or go to the bathroom...

instead you just try to prevent the children from learning their "bad habits" translation: their possessive and obsessive tendencies, which is a difficult thing to do when 1- literally saved the lives of two of them and 2- literally saved the others for a clan of madmen, they are obviously quite skeptical at first with your warnings.

but because neither Geto nor Gojo make a REAL effort to make it seem that they are WRONG.

Mimiko and Nanako are the least suitable, but at the same time they are the ones who make the most effort to understand you and integrate you. So I don't see it as difficult for them to see through, at least, Satoru's behavior, and since before you used to have very prolonged depressive episodes. So they will be something like your allies and they were your main shoulder to cry on at the time.

Of course, they are not willing to see that Geto is not much better, but rather they are in denial.

Megumi is distant, which makes him the least suited of all of them to see what's wrong with all of this. He's barely with Satoru once he grows up, and yet he holds him in high regard, so the chances of him doing anything to help you are low to zero unless Tsumiki gets involved.

He doesn't hate you at all! You're the closest thing he's had to a stable figure, but he's not willing to risk Tsumiki for you, he's sorry, but that's the way it is.

Speaking of, Tsumiki is kind of like your best and worst option, because she IS the one who stops everyone in this house (except Geto and Gojo) from becoming Yanderes, but she can't do anything for you because she has no curse energy, she's worse than you in that regard. but she will always be there for you when you need a friend and want a tooth and nail ally (although the context is not favorable).

I also wanted to take advantage and delve deeper into Gojo and Geto in a way.

Gojo is much less condescending and more empathetic in this situation thanks to Geto, i had already said that, yes, but to make it clearer, we know that Gojo used to use Geto as his moral compass, distinguishing what is right and what is wrong.

For this reason, Gojo tends to imitate several of Geto's most pleasant behaviors when he realizes that this would be more pleasant for you until it come out in a natural way. I mean, Gojo has a lot of Geto and it is thanks to that that he is more empathetic with your situation, Geto helps him be more empathetic and kind.

While Gojo enhances Geto's positive qualities and removes possible negative qualities or thoughts that may bring them, any insecurity is CRUSHED by Gojo and thanks to this Geto is less paranoid than he could be.

Also thanks to this you are not completely isolated, because Geto fully trust that Gojo and he will protect you.

I don't need to say it, but I will, you are VERY spoiled. They are slowly turning you into a spoiled child (only without infantilization, that would be uncomfortable, they have children for God's sake) in the sense that everything you could want, you get (except maybe going out without any supervision). In general, one of their love languages is that, spoiling you.

That's exactly what they did when you first "moved" with them at first, they we're just so excited to finally having you that they wanted to do all at once, give you love, take care of you, spoil you, they even carried you from one side of State to the other just because they could.

Although at first being pampered is strange and somewhat nice, it quickly makes you feel somewhat useless by not being able to do ANYTHING yourself, add to the isolation (more or less about 2-3 whole years, you don't know, only that they graduated in that time) and you have a severe depressive episode(the one i talk about in the first part).

when you went into a that state, both of them, although they didn't show it, were TERRIFIED that you would try something....extreme, so to speak. So they spent a solid week helping you bathe, change your clothes, feed you, brush your teeth, etc.

Gojo seriously thought about giving you antidepressants, but at the same time he was scared by the possibility that they would fuck up your mind even more. That's when they made the plan and fortunately it worked.

They try to take better care of your mental health after that. Nowadays you can even go out apart from the monthly outings even with just one of them! something like more personal individual dates, for example, if you go to have coffee with Geto, chances are that that same week you will go to dinner with Gojo. Maybe these types of dates happen mainly when one is on a mission and the other stays at home.

They try to intersperse certain things to prevent you from being left alone, but when you do, they are constantly calling you or making calls on Sky. If they have to leave while you're asleep, they'll leave a joint voicemail saying how sorry they are that they can't say goodbye properly but that they'll make it up to you when they get home.

and you don't doubt that they will get home.

(You once tried to leave while they were on a mission together, but Geto's curses followed you everywhere, so nope, Even if they are physically there, you have no possibility to go out completely alone, although they are honestly not bothersome.)

When they get Home, expect the already high level of clingyness to increase and you won't be able to move all afternoon or AT LEAST until dinner time. but at least they tell you about the interesting things they did on the mission, bring you some (many) souvenirs and generally "make up for lost time" away from you.

If you had plans to start a family before, both Geto and Gojo definitely remember it and will want to know if you are still going with it. Of course, they were different circumstances, but surely you would like to start your own family with your husbands, right?

(all strictly consensual obviously, even if all this is quite shady, I REFUSE to believe that they would commit r@p3 against you)

If you don't want to, that's fine! They get it, they're a little disappointed not to see their little versions combined with you, yes, but they already have Megumi, Tsumiki and the twins, they can live with that.

If you don't want children but feel a little lonely, they can get you a pet! a cat or a dog to take care of all three but its main function is to keep you company. It's cute when they both arrive and see you snuggling with said pet (they definitely took photos and added them to the collection of cute moments)

their love for you does not diminish because you do not want children, if necessary it will multiply.

And additionally, if you take this route they would probably be filled with doubts about what would happen if they had accepted (things like possible miscarriages, postpartum depression, the possibility that you would die, etc.) and they feel WAY calmer about it.

If you decide that you are comfortable enough to have a child with each of them(and being an actual family someway)....god it would be chaos, in a good way?

Gojo would already be thinking of names, whether for his child or Geto's, it doesn't matter! He loved them the same, apart from the fact that he bought many MANY things for the children (the child was not even born and is already going to be spoiled).

You practically signed a deal with the devil, during the first months you can't even get out of bed! They practically bring you everything and are close to you 24/7.

Tsumiki gives you a hand to have some time alone at least. Megumi comes by from time to time to guard the house when Gojo and Geto leave, additionally asking you if Gojo is giving you trouble (fortunately not) and even leaving some cute stuffed animals (with protective seals).

Mimiko and Nanako are by far the most excited about this, although rather than asking Geto about the situation, they are more interested in what YOU have to say (obviously, Gojo and Geto too, but it's nice that the girls are so up to pending without being suffocating)

✨Scary Dog Privilge ✨ when everyone goes out for a drink when you start to have a baby bump, it's like a switch from "fucking scary" to "hiii sweetieeeee"

Gojo will shamelessly put his hands on your belly, but at least he'll be very careful when he does it. Geto always asks for permission, although if you say no often he will seem like a kicked dog and eventually you will have to give in.

once you have the baby, expect a LOT more gifts not only from Geto and Gojo but from their companions and members of other clans now that the Strongest have children, at least the twins, Megumi and Tsukimi take care of that while you, Geto and Gojo spend some time alone with the baby (no matter who it is).

(It goes without saying, if you have a baby, there is no WAY IN THE WORLD you can get away from them...although it's not really like you want to if you choose this route.)

I would like to say they don't teach their children their unhealty mindset, but again, they see nothing wrong with what they do bx you are happy(now) so it's your job(and maybe also Megumi's and Tsumiki's) to teach them how to love properly.

At least they won't stop you, they see it as the "old times way" but not neccesary Bad. They will still love their children (even if they're not yanderes or share the same view of love and world in general, they are their kids).

In short, they are not bad life companions at all! If only they could have started the relationship normally and controlled their jealousy, overprotection and paranoia in a healthy way......but they undoubtedly love you.

Hope You like it❤️

236 notes · View notes

rebeliz7 · 7 months

Text

AUGUST - PART ONE

August 1/3

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Pinning - Cheating

Special thanks to Van (aka @missmonsters2) for helping me by editing this, all 3 chapters.

…

July, 27th

A high-rank order arrives at the Tower early in the morning, which is code for the White House, which is code for 'you're not directly involved.'

You understand the hierarchy of the job, and you accept it. The only Avengers who are allowed to communicate with the President are Steve and Natasha, even if the rest of you provide backup if needed.

The missions from the Oval office are usually dangerous and, more often than not, quite complicated. A part of you is a little relieved that you get to stay at home and 'hold the fort,’ while Steve and Natasha have to pack their bags to go somewhere that you're not allowed to know.

Steve hugs you goodbye, and you melt in his arms, if only for a second. He's your boss, technically, but he's also the closest thing you have to family, and although you're not ready to say it out loud, you care about him.

"We'll be back before you know it. Try not to give Tony an aneurysm." He laughs, and you push him towards the jet in jest.

"He and I have our own thing going on, don't be jealous." You smile back, and the look in his eyes almost makes you run back into his arms, but he nods his head once in your direction, and then he's walking towards the jet.

As if things couldn't get any worse for you, you have to watch Wanda kiss her wife goodbye too. You look away quickly, not wanting to have that image engraved in your mind.

What you feel for Wanda is - complicated. You think she knows, but she's also a married woman, and neither one of you will ever acknowledge whatever it is that you feel because everyone knows that she's head over heels for Natasha.

"Hey, you don't have to worry." Natasha's voice pulls you back, and you realize that Wanda is saying goodbye to Steve by the jet now. "I have his back."

"I know," you say, and Natasha takes your hand.

"I know you don't like this any more than we do," she says, and you swallow with difficulty. They have a mission, and you accept it. There's nothing you can do to stop them from going. You know what this job entails.

What's eating at you is the fact that this might be very well goodbye for good, and none of you know it.

The thought always passes your mind whenever one of you leaves on a new mission.

"We'll be back before you know it." She winks at you, and you smile back; she's your oldest friend, and you've never said it out loud either, but you care for her—deeply.

"Take care out there," you tell her out of habit.

"We will. Take care of her for me, would you?" She looks back at her wife, and you look at Wanda hugging Steve. "She might worry."

"I've got her."

"Pay close attention to Daisy. She shows promise."

"I've noticed, and I will."

…

July, 28th

The world seems at peace. There are no trying thugs with supernatural abilities on the streets, no arms dealers selling guns to maniacs. The Avengers are not needed, and when noon comes around, you realize that this could very well be your first day off at the Compound.

Things have been a bit hectic since you joined the infamous team of heroes a couple of years ago, and for the life of you, you can't remember a single day off since the day you joined.

Before Natasha practically dragged you into this Compound, your life was not a peaceful one, and you've never had a full day to yourself, but that changes today.

Today you stay on your floor and order pizza for lunch, and you sit through an entire season of Modern Family on Netflix while you finish the beers on your fridge.

When the sun finally goes down, you notice how tired you are of not doing anything, but you're smiling, and this has officially been your day, only yours, and you'll always remember that.

July 28th, you will always remember this day.

…

July, 31st

Tony is worried, and Wanda is pacing the meeting lounge.

Natasha sent in an encrypted message a few minutes ago. Their mission got a lot more complicated than they were expecting, not that it surprises you.

They'll have to be away for longer than they originally planned.

"Can you reach them?" Tony asks you, and Wanda turns to look at you with hope in her eyes.

Natasha sent the message through a radio line only you know of, she wanted it to be a one-way type of message, and you know she'd check but only to make sure that you didn't answer.

"Well, yeah but -"

"Nat wouldn't want that," Wanda says, and you watch her take in a deep breath as if to gather herself. You can practically smell her worry by now.

"You don't look worried, or surprised." Tony assesses you, and you shrug lightly.

"Don't you watch the news, grandpa?" You ask him in jest, and he rolls his eyes at you. "The President is not very subtle about the places he decides to bomb. Nat and Steve are probably behind a defector, who must be surrounded by security detail 24/7."

"How do you know all this?" Wanda asks, and you shrug lightly again before sitting on the table.

"I don't. I'm just taking a wild guess here. The order came from the White House, right?"

"It sounds like something that Stark Satellites could have helped with," Tony mutters, completely blindsided by your question.

"Don't be like that, Starboy." You smile when he glares at you. "Your satellites leave traces behind."

They both take a moment to think about what you just said, and you remain quiet while they process.

Once they do, Wanda goes back to pacing, although slower than before, and when she meets your stare, you smile at her, however small. You told Natasha you'd look out for her, and you don't know exactly how to do that.

"How long do you think they'll be gone?" She asks you. "Are they safe? Why would the President send them in for this?"

"I'm just taking a guess here, but if this is actually what's happening then it could take a month or two."

"Two months?" Tony asks.

"Well, they'll have to blend in and Natasha won't take any chances. Meaning, she'll go all out. Surveillance, tracking, making contact, studying the perimeter, making contact again, befriending someone on the inside, befriending a lot of people on the outside, looking for alternatives, setting up a trap in case they have to resort to it, plan for escape routes. Several escape routes."

"Sounds easy," Tony says with his usual bite, and you sigh as Wanda takes a deep breath.

"Hey." You call her, and she looks at you with worry etched on her face. "Natasha is the person for a job like that, and I'm just taking a wild guess here."

"You were right the last time." She points out.

"A Governor got killed and it was all over the news. That one was easy to guess." You smile until she shakes her head and lets out a breath.

"If anyone can handle something like this, it’s Natasha," Tony says. "She'll bring back Rogers. He's lucky she's with him."

"That, he is."

…

August, 1st

Sam and Bucky arrive from their mission early in the morning. They've been gone for almost an entire month, and by the sore look on Bucky's face, they don't come with good news.

Blake continues to slip through their fingers, and Bucky continues to shut you down when you try to lend a hand. Blake, a Russian lowlife that tortured Bucky on more than one occasion under Hydra's command, has proven himself a hard one to catch.

You get it, you understand why Bucky wants to be the one who catches him, but it's obvious that the guy knows Bucky well enough to always keep himself one step ahead of him. You'd know.

You leave the debriefing room when Sam and Bucky begin bickering, knowing that they won't stop for a while. They're an odd pair, but they get each other.

You go about your day with as much normalcy as if the Captain and Natasha were here. You run the drills for the new recruits, and you pay special attention to the girl Natasha believes has the potential to be something more. You make sure to run her a bit harder than the rest, just like Natasha has been doing.

You have to agree with her; Daisy does seem like the kind of girl that belongs in the field.

You check in with Rhodey and make a round of calls to the Agents around the US. Things are calm, which means someone is cooking something big, and logically, everyone is beginning to go nuts.

You go about your day. Whatever comes your way, you'll deal with it when it gets here. There's no point in worrying about things that are not in your control.

"Want some?" Wanda asks when you enter the kitchen, and she's serving sauce on top of pasta on a plate. You were coming to fix yourself something as well, but the moment you smell the air, a smile forms on your face.

"Is this your famous pasta and sauce I'm smelling?" You ask back as you hand her another plate, and she smiles.

"You guys are easy to please," she says as she puts the sauce on top of the pasta, and you get a whiff of the delicious aroma of her cooking up close, and you moan to yourself.

"Or maybe you're just an amazing cook," you tell her, and her smile turns a bit bashful.

You take the two plates to the table as she picks up a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the shelf.

It's been a few days, and you haven't exactly kept an eye on her like Natasha asked you to do when she left, but Wanda seems perfectly fine. You caught sight of her in the morning as she tried to go about her day with as much normalcy as you were.

If it were a regular mission, everyone would still be tense, but it'll be 'normal.' The job comes with high-level risks, and you all live in danger on a daily basis, even now while you sit across from Wanda, the both of you aren't completely safe.

A mission from the White House means there are no official records because that's why their preferred agent to go to is Natasha, and you all know what that entails if things were to go south.

She was a KGB Agent. She was an enemy of the state long before she was an ally, the Black Widow can always turn the tables, or at least that's the narrative the President would use if it came down to it.

As it is, though, Rhodey was anxious when you talked to him earlier. His tone clipped in every word that he spoke. There's no doubt that he knows exactly the nature of the mission, but you know better than to ask questions that won't be answered.

Sam and Bucky are doing exactly what they do when they're worried, which is to retreat to their military ways. Sam took over you in the drills, and Bucky oversaw the sparring exercises with the rest of the recruits.

Tony has been locked in his lab since Nat and Steve left, only coming out for food and attending the necessary meetings, nothing more. Wanda cooks, she cooks a lot when she doesn't know what else to do, and you're trying to keep on going as normal as you can.

"Be honest with me," she says as you pick up a fork and she pours the wine in the glasses, and you look up to see her face. "You think they're alright?"

The moment her eyes meet yours, you remember the exact reason why you make a habit out of avoiding spending too much time with her. It's unfair, really, the power she holds over you without even knowing.

"You worry too much." You deflect as you take your glass and sip the wine.

"That's what she always says." She frowns, and suddenly, the mouthwatering smell of her cooking doesn't seem so appetizing anymore.

"We would know if things went wrong. Isn't that the whole point of sending them both in? The russian spy and the golden boy aren't exactly subtle news."

She purses her lips in anger at your Government and how manipulative they are, but the worrisome in her eyes is undeniable.

"You asked me to be honest."

"I did." Her accent comes out sounding harsh and cutting in her bothered state, and an idea occurs to you.

"Look, I know I can't ask you not to worry or even lie to you and say that things will be alright because that's a prayer more than a fact in our line of work. But I can be here with you, and I can try to keep your mind off of it if you'd like."

She looks at you as if analyzing you and you let her even though her eyes are made of the most beautiful color, and you're positively distracted by her whole face.

"She asked you to look out for me, didn't she?" She asks, and you smile, although the color of her eyes continues to distract you.

"Can you blame her? You really do worry too much."

"And you don't seem to worry at all."

Her words catch you by surprise, although her tone remains kind when she speaks, meaning she's only curious and not upset, at least not with you.

"What's the point in worrying about something that you can't control?" You counter her question with one of your own, and she looks away, finally picking up her glass of wine, drinking a generous sip from it before meeting your stare again.

"What's the point in deed? Let's eat, this sauce is no good cold."

Her cooking is, as always, splendid, and you spend the rest of dinner talking about your inability to boil water.

By the time you're picking up the dishes, you realize that you're having fun, and conversation with Wanda is not as terrifying as you once thought it could be.

…

August 2nd

You wake up to find Fury sitting on the small couch you keep in your room, and you almost have a heart attack.

"You sleep like a baby," he says. "Like a drugged baby."

"You have a mission for me? Please, tell me there's a mission and you weren't just being a creep."

"There's a mission," he says as he hands you a black folder. You take the folder from his hand as you sit upon your bed and rub the sleep off your face.

"Son of a bitch." You gasp the moment you see the first page.

Hudson, Fury found Hudson.

"I thought you'd like that," he says as he stands up. "Just wanted to see the look on your face when you saw it."

"I'm running this." You tell him, and it's not a question, but he still nods as you stand up as well.

"Of course you are. You thought I was just gonna come here and give you that folder for nothing? Come on! You have ten minutes to prep."

Ten minutes later, you're geared up and ready to go, and Fury is waiting for you in the hanger next to Bucky and Wanda.

"We need him alive," Fury says the moment you're close enough, and you're already nodding. "This is no joke. The only reason why I'm giving you this is because I'm a man of my word."

"I know." You nod again, and he pins you down with a hard glare.

"Alive." He enunciates right in your face, and you roll your eyes. "However, you use whatever means to capture him. What happens in the field -"

"- stays in the field." The three of you finish for him, and he hums to himself, all the while pinning you with a glare.

"We got this," you tell him as Bucky boards the jet, and Wanda laughs to herself as she follows him.

"You better." Fury declares, and with that, you follow your teammates.

…

Hudson has slipped through your fingers more times than you're willing to admit out loud at this point, so you keep that to yourself as you explain to Bucky and Wanda who Hudson is.

"So he's your friend?" Wanda asks, and you're tempted to groan, but the confused look on her face is way too much for you to handle, so you look away quickly.

"Was. He was my friend." You correct her, and they're not subtle at all when they exchange a look.

"Spill," Bucky says.

"I just did. He and I were partners, he abandoned me when we retrieved an expensive object from the Caribians and I haven't seen him since."

"I get the feeling that you're oversimplifying things for us," Wanda says, and her accent makes you want to smile. It doesn't come out that often anymore, but it leaves you feeling like this when it does.

You can't like her accent this much; it's unhealthy.

"I trusted the guy." You admit without looking at either one of them. "I trusted him and he left me in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by enemies because of money."

"Wait," Bucky says, but you don't look at him. "Hudson. Australian accent? About five four, brunette? Ridiculously bad at poker?"

"You know him." You look at him, and Bucky huffs a smile as he continues to pilot the jet.

"He sold Hydra a fake relique back in the day. He's slippery."

"I'd know." You stand up as Bucky closes in on the location, and Wanda follows your lead.

…

You find him exactly where Fury told you he'd be, which tells you all you need to know.

He's nursing a drink at a small bar in the outskirts of Alabama, and although your first instinct is to smash his face against the wooden counter, you sit by his side and order a local beer.

"What took you so long?" He asks in that characteristic way of his, flashing you a smile and a wink that would be charming if you didn't know the guy as well as you do.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you were asking for help." You thank the bartender when he comes back with your beer and Hudson's smile wavers.

Bucky confirms the presence of a third party through your coms, and you're not surprised. You saw at least five armed men when you walked inside, and Hudson's knee continues to shake.

"Yeah, well." He says as he downs his drink, and sweat drips down the side of his face. "I don't want to die. Fury was the last resource. I'm ready for you to take me in."

Son a bitch, you think. This clever son of a bitch.

"Who are they?" You ask him just as you hear a gunshot in the street, and he jumps behind the bar.

Chaos erupts inside the bar when you jump behind him and grab hold of his jacket just when he's about to sprint for the back door.

Bucky and Wanda are already engaging, and when you hear the word Hydra your entire body runs cold.

"This is Hydra?" You ask him, and when he takes a little too long in nodding, you punch him in the face hard enough to knock him out on the spot.

Every single one of you has a history with Hydra, and Fury knows that.

You can hear Bucky cursing and Wanda's grunts as they fight outside while you make sure that Hudson doesn't escape. You drag his heavy ass into a closet, and there you shoot him with a sedative before you run outside to help your team.

It's absolute chaos. God, you hate Hydra.

You spot seven men to your left the moment you step outside, and you roll on the ground to get close to a parked car for cover. They all shoot at you, but you make quick work of them.

Bucky is fighting too, but you catch sight of Wanda in the air; more specifically, you catch the exact moment they hit her with some sort of energy weapon to take her down.

She loses her balance, but she doesn't crash like they were probably expecting her to. No, she turns her attention to the jet that shot her, and then she buries that jet on the ground with a single movement of her hands.

You smile to yourself, feeling oddly proud of her, but you don't lose focus. You're still surrounded by enemies, and you make sure to keep shooting while keeping your teammates in your peripheral.

What did Hudson do? What did he steal, and who did he sell it to?

"Let me guess," Bucky says as he walks tiredly towards you. He sounds breathless, and his cheek has an inch-long tear, which does nothing to minimize the pissed-off look on his face. "We're his extraction, aren't we?"

"You can yell at Fury for that when we get back," you tell him, and you turn to shoot a few remaining Hydra agents when you see them pointing at Wanda, not at you. Bucky is once again fighting off two guys off of him.

She has her back to you, and you run towards her. No, you think, not her.

You take down four out of the five men going for her, but you run out of ammo. She's working on taking down the last jet, and they're not making it easy at all. They're shooting her with everything they have, and so is the guy to your right.

You sprint just as the jet she's fighting collapses and explodes in a cloud of smoke, dirt, and fire.

She turns when you're only a couple of feet away, and the bullet hits your shoulder just as her eyes meet yours.

Her eyes widen as you listen to the unmistakable sound of Bucky's arm when he punches someone. You fall into Wanda's arms, and Bucky rushes to your side.

"Why - why would you do that?" Wanda asks as she kneels on the ground with you in her arms. "Oh my God. Why would you do that?"

"We need to go." Bucky runs back into the bar to bring out Hudson, and you can't look away from Wanda's terrified expression.

"Why would you do that?" She asks as tears gather in her eyes, and you try to ignore the pain and the blood on her hands.

"You know why."

…

August, 3rd

Doctor Woo is a miracle worker. When you emerge from her regenerative chamber, you feel as if you were never shot in the first place.

"I can't even feel where the wound should be," you tell her in wonder.

"That's because there's not a wound anymore," she tells you with a grin as you walk backwards towards the wall mirror, trying to get a good look at your shoulder blade.

"You're amazing," you sincerely tell her, and she takes the compliment with a subtle nod of her head.

"Thank you. Now, let's go over a few exercises."

You follow her instructions and stretch, bend and shake your arm at her command until she's satisfied with her own work.

…

Fury doesn't apologize, and you don't mind. He's the boss, well, your boss's boss, and you're here to do a job.

He gave you his word a while ago that he'd let you know the moment Hudson showed up, and he delivered. Hudson is behind bars, and you were the only one injured in the mission.

Bucky doesn't have the same perspective that you do, he gives Fury a piece of his mind, and Wanda's eyes turn red in anger, but Fury walks out in one piece.

"You got shot, how could you just sit there and say nothing?" Tony asks you from the other side of the table, and everyone else turns their attention to you.

"What's the point in dueling with things that already happened?" You retort, as you always do. "I'm fine now and Hudson was brought in. The mission was a success."

"And nothing else matters in your book, does it?" He bites out.

"Nothing else should. I'm here to do my job and I know what I signed up for. If I wanted a desk job I'd get one, but I'm here."

"We were ambushed." Wanda reminds you, but you can't look at her, not after what you said - or did. "He should have sent us in there with a lot more back up and you just don't care."

"I care," you tell her as you look up at her. There's a nasty bruise on her jaw that you didn't notice before, and you wonder who got close enough to touch her. "But we're here and we're fine. Next time we do a double check before trusting Fury's whole intel."

"You don't get it," Wanda says, shaking her head. "We need to look out for one another. This isn't just a job for us, and it's time you start to realize that this is not just a work team because you're part of it now."

Bucky points at Wanda, agreeing with her as he continues to glare at you.

You stay in your seat long after they're gone, thinking about Wanda's words and what they mean.

…

August, 4th

Fury takes Hudson away, and none of you have a say in the matter. He's still the master spy, the only one with the A's under his sleeve and then his other sleeve under that one.

You're not exactly new to the team, but you still struggle with the concept of seeing it as anything more than a team.

You have to keep your head above water, always. Nothing lasts forever. You learned all that the hard way.

You stay out of everyone's way, and the day drags on, but eventually, you're back in your room at the end of it.

…

August, 5th

You're on your way out of the Compound when you walk by her office, and you catch sight of her because her door is wide open. She doesn't make a habit of closing her office door, you've noticed.

You shouldn't stop, the wisest thing for you to do is keep walking, but you turn around and knock softly on her door anyway. She looks up from her laptop, and her eyes are suddenly on you…

...you swallow as you lean casually on her door frame.

"Hey," you say, and she raises a single eyebrow at you.

"You going out?" She points at the car keys in your hands, and you jingle them before clearing your throat.

"Yeah, I am. There's a whole world outside of this place, you've noticed?" She smiles, and you look down.

Ridiculous, you think to yourself. You're ridiculous and a mess when you're alone with her.

"And a lot of people have opinions too. Keep an eye out for those," she says, and you sigh.

"Not everyone likes us, I'm okay with that." You shrug as she stands up, and you swallow with difficulty again because the way she looks steals your breath away - in a sense.

Not that she's wearing anything particularly grand, but tight jeans and knee-high boots make her look -to put it simply- incredible. Not that you're objectifying her but God!

"It's more than people just not liking us," she says as she runs a hand through her hair and pushes it back. "Maybe you just shouldn't go out alone."

"You worried about me?" You ask her, and you watch her cross her arms, her yellow cashmere sweater hugging her hips as she stretches it.

"I think. You're kind of growing on me." She scrunches up her nose with her admission, and if you weren't a goner before, you think you definitely are now.

"And it only took you a year and a half to get there," you tell her, and she laughs, and your stomach feels weird, and you feel like you can't breathe and - it's not fair. It's not fair at all.

She's married, you remind yourself. She's off-limits and way out of your league.

"Anyway," she says as she takes a deep breath and sinks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Be careful if you go out. I was gonna watch a movie, you can join me if you decide to stay."

…

It's not even a question anymore, she said the words, and you knew you weren't going anywhere.

"Oh my god!" You exclaim when you taste the popcorn, she made before you two settled in the movie room.

"You like?" She asks with a shit-eating grin that you can't ignore.

"Like? This popcorn is my new religion. Wanda, this is delicious."

"Like I said, easy to please." She pops one in her mouth with a self-satisfied smile, and you - you must be a masochist to be here.

"I'm serious. What did you put in it?" You pick one popcorn to examine, but it looks just like a regular one.

"I'm not telling you my secrets," she says with a delicate laugh, and you laugh with her.

"Is it butter?" You ask, and she huffs and rolls her eyes playfully.

"You offend me." She teases you.

"It's some kind of seasoning, isn't it?" You ask, and she hums as she picks one movie on Netflix and presses play.

"You've watched this?" She asks, and you catch the name of the movie on the screen as you chew slowly.

"I haven't. Is it rosemary?"

"No, it's not. You haven't watched Mean Girls?"

"I really really haven't. Is it butter? It has to be butter."

"You already asked that. You're gonna love this movie."

"Come on." You nudge her with your shoulder, and she tries to ignore you. "If you don't tell me I'm gonna assume it's butter."

"It's not," she tells you with a laugh, and your stomach does that thing it always does when she smiles, making you feel warm from the inside out.

"It's delicious," you tell her again, and she makes a show to pop one into her mouth.

"I know," she says with fake innocence, and you don't know what it is exactly, but you have to hold back from kissing her.

It's torture, and it's not fair. This is exactly why you usually make a point to stay out of her hair. You two click, and it's easy to spend time together, which is why you developed this crush on her in the first place a while ago.

It's been months since the two of you hung like this, and it's easy when Natasha is home.

"Thank you," she says out of the blue, and you frown, too preoccupied with the shape of her lips before you look into her eyes.

"What?" You ask, and she takes your hand, and you realize that you're sitting much closer than you thought you were. "What did I do?"

Her hand is cold and much softer than you've ever dared to imagine, and you think that if she were yours, you'd never need anything more.

"You took a bullet for me," she says, and the memory of that exchange comes back at you fully. "Thank you. I mean it."

"Of course." You shrug, and she squeezes your hand before letting it go.

"No one has ever done that for me," she says as an afterthought, and you're caught staring at her profile.

"I'd take a bullet for you anytime." The line is cheesy, and she smiles, and you blush.

"Anytime?" She teases you as you laugh at your own embarrassment.

But her eyes pull you in, and you have to swallow all the things that you wish you could say out loud.

Yes, you conclude, you're a masochist. She's a hammer, and you just love the way she hurts.

"If it means you're safe? Yes, anytime."

There's a moment, or you think there's a moment when she seems to be about to say something back, but she swallows her words instead.

You end up watching the movie in silence, both sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the bowl of popcorn forgotten in the middle.

…

August 6th

You're in the middle of your usual workout when Wanda walks inside the gym accompanied by Daisy, both looking ready to work out.

"Wow, you're here." Daisy smiles when she sees you, and you pick up your towel from the bench as you sit up. You were just finishing your abs routine anyway. "Abs." She adds, motioning to all of you, and you find yourself smiling as you press the towel to the back of your neck.

"Sorry, I'm not usually this awkward. I promise." She rushes to explain.

"I'll take your word on that." You smile, and she blushes, visibly so. When you look at Wanda, she's staring at Daisy with a subtle frown on her forehead.

"I'm supposed to train in here today," Daisy says conversationally, and Wanda finally looks over to you.

She has her arms crossed over her chest, and you catch her working her jaw as if she were bothered.

"Natasha left instructions," she says, and her accent is very prominent when she speaks. You know she slips on her accent only when she's feeling emotional, and you instantly feel bad.

You have to stop saying things that make her uncomfortable. She's married, and you can't just go about telling her how you'd take a bullet for her again.

"Wanna spar with me?" Daisy asks you, and the smile on her face is a little contagious, so you have no trouble returning it.

"Let's do it." You motion for her to follow you to the mats, all the while trying not to look directly at Wanda.

This is exactly why you kept your distance for a long while. When you're alone with her, you can't help yourself, and you always end up saying stupid things that make her uncomfortable and that are way out of line.

You take off your shoes and work on stretching your neck and shoulders before you turn around to meet your sparring partner, but Daisy is sitting on the bench, and Wanda is waiting for you on the other end of the mats.

You swallow with difficulty but walk towards the center to meet her halfway anyway.

"Intimidated already?" You ask Daisy. She bites her lower lip as she shakes her head, not giving anything away.

"She can watch for now," Wanda says, her voice making you look at her instantly.

Should you apologize? That'd be even more uncomfortable for the both of you, wouldn't it?

Before you can say anything, she comes at you, throwing a punch that you barely avoid. You look at her in surprise, and she cocks her head to the side, a smug grin appearing on her lips as she challenges you.

It's been months since the last time you two spar together. You're practically strangers, and you're not sure of what to expect from her.

You round her, observing her fighting stance, which is much more confident than it used to be. When she comes for you again, you're ready, and it's not difficult to avoid her attacks when you're focused.

You block her punches and roll backward away from her kicks, but you don't attack her just yet. She's relentless, though, and soon she grows irritated, and you only know it because of the crinkle that appears in her forehead without her consent.

"Really?" She asks, annoyed when you once again roll away from her without doing anything to defend yourself.

"Someone's been practicing," you tell her, and she breaks from her stance to look at you dead in the eyes.

"My wife insists I do," she says, and there's something in the way she says it. My wife, as if she knows with certainty what she's doing to you.

"Your wife's taught you well," you tell her, and for a moment alone, she seems to be glaring at you.

You don't know what's happening, but the next time she attacks you, you tackle her to the ground. She gasps when her back hits the mats, the air leaving her lungs as she looks up at you in surprise.

"There are a few things you still need to learn though." She's breathing hard, her glare making you want to flinch back where you're standing.

You leave the gym without looking back, and it's only when you get to your room that you realize how badly you're shaking.

Of course, she knows; you practically told her you'd die for her last night. What the hell were you thinking?

…

August 7th

"I don't want to be alone," she says the moment you open your door.

It's four am, and when someone knocked on your door, you never thought it'd be her.

"Did something happen?" You ask as you rub the sleep off your eyes, and she walks inside your bedroom without waiting for an invitation.

"I just -" She says as you turn to look at her, but she doesn't finish her sentence.

"You okay?" You ask her because she seems nervous, as if on the edge of panic, and you don't know what to do.

"I'm fine." She closes her eyes in frustration, and you watch as she licks her lips, and shakes her head, and doesn't seem to get her ideas straight enough to tell you what she's doing in your bedroom at four am.

"You sure you're fine?" You ask her, and, taking a deep breath, she looks at you.

"I know why you avoid me so much," she says, and you swallow with difficulty.

Your back stiffens as if a bucket of ice-cold water just fell on you, and you can't look away from her eyes.

"Of course you do." You clear your throat, refusing to overthink this. "I think I told you myself last night."

"Well, that and the little fact that you took a bullet for me." The sound of her voice is meant to be light, you can see her trying, but nothing about this is light or easy for you either way.

She's a married woman, and you've seen her and Natasha together, and you know that nothing can ever get in between them. Not that you want to either, you'd rather see her happy from the outside than hurt her in any way.

Love like that, like the one they share, is so rare to see, let alone easy to find.

"Look, Wanda -"

"I like you." She cuts you off, and the revelation should make you elated, but it only serves to confuse you.

"You like me." You say the words out loud, and your stomach flutters against your better judgment. "You like me?"

"I know I shouldn't and I know it's wrong." She rushes to explain. "I shouldn't have said anything."

She's panicking, and your brain is not catching up fast enough. She's about to cry, and she's about to run out when you finally react and close your door before she can make a run for it.

"Hold on." You ask her with a gentle hand on her arm. "It's okay."

She looks troubled as if confessing this has to mean something, and you know well that it doesn't. The last thing you ever want to do is get in between her marriage, and liking isn't feelings; liking is easy to get over.

"Is it?" She asks you, her eyes locking you in, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't dying to kiss her but -

"It is." You assure her with a smile that you hope is calming. "Look, we're attractive. Attraction happens, it's human but it doesn't have to mean anything."

For a moment, your words hang in the air, and then she chuckles, and you can breathe easily again. As stupid as that was to say you accomplished what you wanted, she's laughing, and things are not yet awkward.

"You know," she says, and when she licks her lips again, you can't help but feel thirsty, and you know how absolutely ridiculous that sounds in your own head. "That actually helps. You're right."

"So you're good now?" You ask her with a smile, still trying to get past this. "You're not freaking out anymore?"

"Stop that," she says, but the smile on her lips is gorgeous, and you know you want nothing more out of life. "I wasn't freaking out. Maybe a little. I'm fine now."

"That's good." You nod while you hold her stare, and while her eyes flicker, she licks her lips, and you know there's something else she wants to say.

"I'm gonna go," she says with the enthusiasm of someone who definitely wants to stay.

"Okay." You nod, but she doesn't move, and neither do you.

You want, and you want, and the way she looks at you makes you believe that maybe she wants the same thing.

"I was jealous," she says out of the blue, and you frown in confusion.

"What?"

"Daisy likes you and she's not subtle at all, and I was jealous. I have no right to be, I know, but I was jealous because she didn't have to hide it."

She leaves, and you stand exactly where she left you for a long while, not being able to move or think past her last sentences.

You can't sleep after she leaves, and you don't see her at all for the rest of the day.

…

August 8th

Entering Tony's lab, you realize that you aren't the only one he called in here.

"Have you ever heard of the word punctuality?" He asks you, and you head right over to him to plant a loud kiss on his cheek.

"You need to shave," you tell him, and you can hear Sam softly laughing.

"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," Tony says, completely ignoring your suggestion as you move closer to the small lounge area he has in his lab.

"I was in the gym when your text came in. I wasn't gonna come in all sweaty and gross."

"What's wrong with being sweaty and gross?" Bucky asks as he walks in too.

"Have you ever heard of the word punctuality?" Tony asks him, and you and Sam laugh out loud, while Bucky just shrugs, offering no excuse whatsoever.

"What's this all about anyway?" Sam asks Tony, and you finally take a look to where Wanda has been sitting in complete silence since you walked in.

You go over to her and take the empty seat next to hers, and the old leather couch cracks loudly under your weight, which makes her smile as she looks at you.

"That was totally this old thing," you tell her, and she tucks her hair behind an ear as she looks away, nodding her head.

"Don't worry," she says, and Tony clears his throat rather loudly.

He launches into a detailed explanation about the technology he uses to power your suits and special gadgets, but you hear none of it.

No, you're too preoccupied staring at Wanda and thinking about the last thing she told you.

The last couple of days have been a whirlwind, to say the least, and you're certain of one thing only, you don't want to lose her friendship. This is enough. Being her friend is enough, but not seeing her completely will devastate you.

"What?" She asks you with a tone meant to be exasperated, but the small smile on her lips doesn't fool you.

"I didn't see you yesterday," you tell her, and she looks at her lap. She's troubled, and you can see it clearly.

"You missed me?" She asks you after a beat, a cute grin pulling at the corners of her lips as she looks at you.

"Yeah." You nod, your eyes falling to her lips for a second. "Always."

"Excuse me?" Tony's annoyed voice reaches your ears, and you look at him. "Did you listen to a thing I just said?"

"You updated our uniforms, starboy. We have to take care of them. We all hear you."

The boys laugh, and Wanda hides her smile behind her hand as Tony glares daggers at you.

"You're not funny," he tells you, and you blow him a kiss.

"Then why is everyone else laughing?" You ask him, and he rolls his eyes at you.

"We were listening," Wanda tells him, and his glare turns to her. "You updated our uniforms and the communications line now has a wider range."

"They do have a wider range." He points the pen he's holding at her, and he goes back to explain the details that none of you can actually understand. Well, maybe Sam can, a little.

After what feels like an eternity and you've all tried the new gadgets, you walk out of his lab.

"Hey, wanna grab lunch?" You ask Wanda as the boys walk ahead of you. She hesitates for a second, but then she nods her head, and you go to the elevator.

She's quiet in the elevator ride towards the garage, uncharacteristically so. But you watch her through the mirror wall, and she's looking down at the floor, her fingers playing with each other as if to consciously avoid meeting your stare.

You don't know what goes through her mind, and you don't attempt to know either. You can do this, and nothing has to change.

She knows about your feelings, and although she confessed to being physically attracted to you, nothing has to change. Wanting her and loving her is enough.

She doesn't look at you when you walk the small path towards your car, not even when you get in first. She's nervous and conflicted.

"Get in," you tell her softly, and the moment she meets your gaze - something changes.

She smiles softly at you, and she drops her hands, and you watch her take a deep breath and surround the car to get in the passenger seat.

It's unfair how beautiful she is; it truly is torture for you. You're not able to look away as she walks, as she smiles, as she just - exists.

You take her to a little restaurant a couple of miles south of the Compound that you frequent. She hasn't been in, and when you order two of your favorites, the smile on her face returns, truly returns.

She's all smiles as you talk and talk, and she listens with a smile that does inexplicable things to you.

You could watch her smile from afar, and you know it'd be enough.

By the time you're driving back home, she's telling you about a new recipe she wants to try, and when you say goodbye, you might be a little more in love with her.

…

August 9th

You're walking by the kitchen when you catch sight of Wanda dancing softly by the stove. She must think there's no one around because she's bobbing her head and holding a wooden spoon to her mouth as if it were a microphone and you're positively smitten by her.

The mere image that should be embarrassing only manages to endear her to you, and you can't help but walk towards her.

You recognize the song playing softly through the speakers the closer you get, and when she sees you, she jumps backward, her cheeks tainted red and a gasp leaving her parted lips.

There's a moment when you're about to burst out laughing, and she's looking at you in horror that you'll make fun of her, but then the chorus to 'Living on a prayer,’ comes up, and both of you sing loudly to it.

You dance around her, and she follows you with a smile on her face as you both sing, and dance and when the song ends, she's laughing, and you are too.

"We should totally host a karaoke night," you tell her, and her smile, God! Her smile makes your heart flutter, and you don't know how to breathe properly.

"Yeah, that was fun." She nods as her eyes drop to your lips for a moment.

You can't breathe because you could have this kind of fun all the time if you had only met her before Natasha did.

But you didn't, and you have no right to be thinking like this, none. You can daydream about kissing her, but you can't feel like this; it's not fair.

But then she kisses you, and you're not prepared at all.

The sudden touch of her lips against yours makes you flinch back, and she's looking just as scared as you feel.

A moment passes, and she doesn't look away from you, so when you lean towards her, she meets you halfway.

You kiss her, and a tidal wave of emotions travels through your body, making your lungs feel tight, and your hands begin to shake as they grip her waist. She pulls you closer, her hands on your nape pulls and pulls until you're pressing her body between the counter and yours.

You've heard about the clichés and even experienced one or two yourself, but you've never experienced them all at the same time.

When Wanda parts her lips and your tongues meet in a deeper and more sensual kiss, fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, your stomach begins to flutter, and you can hear a light song playing softly just for you to hear. Everything is there, every single cliché, and everything else disappears.

Suddenly it's just the two of you alone in a world where no one can come in and bother you, nothing else exists, and it's a scary sensation but passionate too. It's exciting and sweet.

It's a perfect kiss.

And you realize that wanting won't be enough after this moment.

When you pull back to get some much-needed air, her eyes are still closed, and you're not sure how you're going to be able to move on from this.

She makes the choice for both of you, though. She pushes you away, lightly and then she practically runs out of the kitchen.

You stand there for a long while, just thinking and still feeling the imprint of her lips on yours, but eventually, you turn off the stove and leave too.

…

August 10th

It's two-thirty in the morning when your phone rings, and you wake up quickly, but you don't catch the call. When you go to check who called, your phone doesn't show a missed call.

Natasha. It's an old trick you used once before.

"Friday," you call out as you run out of your room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest because you know this could very well be a call for help. "Stand by, I might need you to wake everyone up."

You run towards Tony's lab, but you don't find it empty.

"Jesus Christ!" He jumps to his feet, clutching his chest and almost losing his balance when you all but barrel inside.

"I saw an old radio here yesterday." You run towards the back, and you find it with ease.

"Hey, what's going on?" He asks, now more worried than scared.

"Hold on." You raise your hand as you search for the right frequency, and just like you expected, a code begins to play. "Get me a piece of paper and a pen."

"What's going on?" He raises his voice but gets you what you need.

The message is on repeat, so you listen and write down, and when you finally read the whole message, the air returns to your lungs, and you take in a deep breath.

"Well?" Tony practically screams when you sit down on the floor.

"That woman is insane." You point the pen at him, and he snatches it from your hand.

"Tell me what's going on. Now!"

"Geez. Relax, grandpa."

"Don't call me that. I swear if you don't start talking I'm gonna -"

"It was Nat." You cut him off as you stand up, and his eyes widen. "They're fine, just unable to properly communicate right now. Mission got complicated but they haven't been made, they're safe but they'll be gone for a whole month. Or so she estimates."

"You got all that from that code?" He asks, and you grin in response.

"And without any of your gadgets." You add with an impressed look, making him roll his eyes.

"You need to inform the wife," he tells you, and your stomach sinks for a whole different reason.

"I know."

…

You're standing outside Wanda's bedroom, and it's almost three am. You're considering waiting till the morning to tell her all this when her door opens from within.

"Hey," she says when she sees you standing there.

"Hi." You look at her, and you lose track of what exactly you're doing here because she's wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely touches her thighs and her legs seem to run on for days.

She's so beautiful, unfairly so, and you're so nervous about being here with her because you can still feel the imprint of her lips on yours from the forbidden kiss you shared just hours ago.

"Is everything alright?" She asks as she tucks her hair behind an ear shyly, probably after noticing you staring at her legs.

"Right." You take a deep breath and focus on looking at her face. "Nat sent a message."

"What did she say?" She rushes to ask you and all awkwardness disappears, and she's Natasha's wife.

"They're okay but they can't communicate properly. They're safe and they won't be back for at least a whole month."

"She's safe?" She asks with a subtle nod of her head as if to reassure herself.

"She's safe." You still answer because it looks like she needs to hear it.

You're intently observing her, so you notice the exact moment in which she remembers you, and her eyes widen. You think she considers apologizing, but you both know that she has nothing to apologize to you for.

"I'm gonna go," you tell her, but she grabs your arm before you can turn around.

"Wait," she says. "Stay for a bit. Let's talk."

It's only when you're sitting in one of the three couches inside that you realize that you'll never be able to tell her no. Not that you mind at the moment, but you do find yourself thinking that maybe that's a dangerous trait to have with her, especially since she's a married woman.

You watch her pouring wine in two tall glasses in silence, perhaps considering what she should say and do, and you take the chance to look around a little bit.

The room is bigger than yours, it's almost like a small one-bedroom apartment. It has a little living room area, a bar in the corner stuck with several bottles of wine and vodka, a small library to the left of the ensuite, and of course, the king-sized bed against the back wall.

"Here." She hands you a glass, and you take an immediate sip if only to busy yourself with something.

"You really like your chardonnay, huh?"

"You like it too," she says matter of factly, and you smile in response. "Don't deny it."

"Wine it's kind of our thing now. I do like it." You nod as she sits in front of you on the loveseat.

She breathes in as if she's about to tell you something, but she's at a loss, and you hate to see her conflicted.

"Wanda," you call her, and she looks up. "This doesn't have to mean anything."

"I know," she says, cutting you off. "I know it doesn't have to mean anything, but I was thinking -"

She trails off, and she's not looking at you. She's staring at the glass of wine in her hands as a small crinkle appears on her forehead.

"I was thinking," she says again, and she looks back up. Her eyes lock you in as she rests her elbow on the armrest, and you're ridiculously entranced by her and the way she touches her lips softly, her eyes still on you. "Maybe it can mean something after all."

You're so caught up with watching her lips that it takes you a couple of seconds to register what she just said.

"What?" You ask her, and it feels as if you were in a daze.

She doesn't say anything for a beat, and you wait as she drinks her wine and puts her glass down before standing up and walking over to you.

You're aware that you're practically frozen to your spot, but you don't really care about anything but her at this moment.

When she sits next to you, she's nervous, you can easily pick up on her anxiousness, but when she takes the glass from your hands and sets it aside, her hands are barely shaking.

"Wanda." You gasp when she doesn't let go of your hand, and she moves to sit closer to you, on her side, her leg tucked under as she looks into your eyes.

"You think it can mean something, for now?" She asks, and you lose your breath, thinking that maybe you're imagining all of this.

But seeing into her eyes, you're more sure than ever before that you can't say no to her, not even for this, for what you believe she's asking of you.

You nod softly but without a doubt that you want her. Whatever she wants to give, you want it.

She smiles timidly but what she does next is the complete opposite. She's still holding your hand, and when she moves it, you're still looking into her eyes.

She leads your hand between her legs, letting you feel the soft skin of her thighs before you realize that she's not wearing anything beneath that t-shirt.

You quickly realize that whatever will happen between the two of you will not be pretty. The second you feel how wet she is, the thought comes to you, and you know you'll end up hurt and devastated from whatever happens.

Still, that first touch of her makes her whimper softly and her hips back into your hand as her thighs fall open, spreading herself wide for you. And that whimper, that little breathy whimper she lets out, imprisons you.

She's holding onto your wrist as you run your fingers down her slit, only to gather her wetness before running them back up to graze her clit, making her gasp and feel as if she can't breathe.

Hot desire coils in your belly with the sounds she's making, and you begin to throb in your own craving to be touched back.

She closes her eyes when she can no longer keep them on you, and you find yourself gasping for breath too.

You quickly move, falling to the ground on your knees and taking your hand back. That makes her open her eyes in a frenzy, only to find you kneeling right in front of her.

You pull her towards the edge, hands on her bare waist, and since she's not really wearing anything between her legs. Getting there with your mouth is not a difficult task at all.

You kiss her thighs first, and her breathing turns erratic, her hands touch your shoulders, your hands, she pulls lightly at your hair, and you smile to yourself.

When you finally put your mouth on her, you feel her tensing, and you take in a moment to take it all in.

This is happening, you're really here, and this is happening.

You lick a path down her slit before pressing your tongue against her opening, hard and bringing your tongue back up. Her hips buck, and she's gripping your hair hard, even more so when your tongue finds her clit, and you round it before sucking on it.

She's too worked up, she was already wet when you first touched her, and it only takes you a couple of minutes to make her cum in your mouth.

You feel it happening slowly, her body comes to a halt, and she seems to stop breathing, and these delicious tiny whimpers leave her parted lips, over and over again.

You kiss her thighs, your hands still holding onto her waist under the t-shirt, but it only takes her a moment to pull herself back together, and then she's pulling you towards her to kiss you fully and ardently.

She wraps her arms around you as you kiss her with bruising enthusiasm, and you push your hips between her legs, making her wrap her legs around you before standing up.

You don't stop kissing, and she's surprisingly light to lift. You walk blindly to her bed, and when you fall on top of her in the soft mattress, she laughs as you pull back slightly.

"You're a great kisser," she says with a glint in her eyes and raw kissed pink lips. Something about the moment makes you want to freeze it, save the look in her eyes in your memory forever.

"Wanda," you say her name, and she kisses you again.

This time she pulls at your sleeping shirt until you sit up and take it off completely before attaching your lips to her neck.

She moans when your hips buck against hers, and you're cupping her breasts, sucking on her neck, and pushing your hips against hers when she runs her nails down your back, scratching you lightly, and you have to pull back.

The sensation of her nails on your back have you losing your breath. You're shivering even as she smiles at you and sits up in front of you.

With a light push, she has you on your back, her hands pulling down your sleeping pants and panties without preamble.

"You okay?" She asks you as she throws your clothes to the floor, and you sit up too.

"Yes," you tell her, and although you're starting to feel like you can't breathe, you really do feel okay.

"You sure?" She asks in a whisper as she pushes you lightly again, and she lays on top of you.

You gasp in a breath when you feel her naked body pressing against yours. Her breasts, her belly, her legs, and her lips kissing the corner of your lips as she waits for an answer.

"I'm sure." You nod, and she kisses you hungrily. There's no build-up for this kiss, just underrated want, and you respond in kind.

You try to keep your eyes open as she kisses every inch of your body, and as she squeezes your breasts before taking a nipple in her mouth, you begin to believe that you might not make it out alive.

It's a ridiculous thought, of course, but she's everything you've ever wanted, and having her do these ungodly things to you is slowly driving you insane. And when she's planting delicate kisses on your belly, her hands spreading your legs for her, you truly believe that you might pass out.

Instead, you watch her lick a path down your navel and then her tongue disappearing between your folds, and the sensation of her wet hot breath coming in contact with your heat makes you shiver and buck your hips involuntarily.

She chuckles lightly, her hands coming to grip your hips to keep them in place, and you feel yourself blushing.

"I haven't even started yet." She smiles, but she doesn't let you speak before her mouth is once again in you, her tongue dipping and forcing itself inside of you.

She's so warm, her tongue so skilled, and you find yourself cumming much faster than you ever thought you would.

You keep your eyes closed as a tidal wave of blinding pleasure washes over you. You feel her pressing her lips on your thighs, her hands on your waist, and then she removes herself completely from you.

You hear her bathroom door close, and you let out a deep breath.

Not knowing what to do until she gets back, you pick up your clothes and get dressed quickly. You don't know what to do or what to think once you're fully dressed again.

Was this a one-time thing? Is she freaking out in the bathroom? Is she waiting for you to leave?

What does it mean?

"Hey," she says, and you haven't noticed the bathroom door opening. You didn't even see her coming out.

"Hey," you say it back, and she's wearing a top now and a pair of sweats.

God! She's still the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and you're pretty sure that you're in love with her, irrevocably so, but she's still married, and you still did something wrong here.

"Sorry, I just needed to use the bathroom." She says with an awkward smile. She's picked up her hair in a messy ponytail, and it looks like she's washed her face, and all you want to do is walk up to her and kiss her again.

"It's okay," you tell her. "I should go anyway." You say, and she walks up to you slowly, as if she's expecting you to bolt, and she's biting her bottom lip in a way that to you is now so intimate.

"I'm not throwing you out," she says, and before you know how to properly react, her hands are on your shoulders, running up to your neck and down again.

Her touch has an instant effect on you, and you don't know how she does it. You don't know how she can have this much power over you, over your body, and over the way you react to her, mentally and physically.

You feel yourself relax, the tension on your shoulders dropping with each stroke of her hands, and the doubts that were swirling in your head quiet down the longer she looks at you with her big rounded eyes.

"You can stay. You should, actually." She says with humor, and you smile, your hands coming to rest on her waist instinctively. "You don't want me to think you regret this, don't you?"

"I don't." You shake your head. "I don't regret it."

"Good," she says. "Neither do I."

…

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlett witch x reader #august

260 notes · View notes

mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe.

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

#this fic was written while almost exclusively listening to sonic the hedgehog music #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #jenna ortega #i don't care how well this does #i just want it out of my face...#sorry this sucks lmao #this whole series isn't very good tho #so i guess that's the standard

424 notes · View notes

thegoldfishkid13 · 7 months

Text

Gone Jasper Hale x Human Reader

Warnings: Mental health and things like that are involved, swearing, Self harm is mentioned.

Word count: 709

Type: Angsty fluff at the end.

Masterlist

Sitting on the bathroom floor with blood dripping down my arm, and I new I had fucked up. Things were going great before Jasper had up and left with the rest of his adopted family. For years I had struggled with self harm and mental health issues; well until I had met Jasper and he helped.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared at the mess I had made, I slowly raised from the floor and walked over to the sink and grabbed gauze and started to gently wipe the blood in fear of making my arm hurt worse. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry. I continued to wipe my arm until the blood was gone, and then bandaged the cuts up. I disposed of the razer that I had used and walked to my room, feeling light headed I sat down at my desk and opened my computer. I opened up to my emails, not expecting to see anything new from Jasper; which there wasn’t. I created a new email to Alice and vented to her, hoping that she would at least see it, but it's all false hope. I got up and changed and went to grab my keys because I have plans with Bella, who was worse than I was, but something snapped her out of her shell recently, something changed her but I still don't know why.

I knocked on her front door and her dad answered.

“ Hello, Mr.Swan, is Bella ready yet?” I asked. He smiled at me.

“ Please call me Charlie, and I’m not sure, but you know where her bedroom is.” He chuckled at his daughter's antics in running late, she always was late or tripping over her own two feet. I smiled a very fake smile and nodded. I thanked him and walked upstairs.

“Bella? Are you ready?” I said as I opened her door to see her standing in the mirror looking at herself. She turned towards me and nodded. It had been a while since we last spoke. We walked down stairs and said goodbye to her father and headed towards the reservation to hang out with Jacob and the clan. We took her truck since the dirt roads may be muddy because of the consistent rain and my car was not built for being stuck in the mud. It took a while to get there and we made small talk, about half way there I finally asked a question that had been eating me up inside.

“Have you heard anything from Alice or Edward, any of them even?” She took her eyes off the road and looked at me before returning her gaze back to the road.

“ No I haven’t, I was going to ask you the same thing. But I take it that you haven’t heard from any of them either. I shake my head no. Once we got to the reservation we hung out with the group of boys that were there, some made snarky comments about Edward and Jasper, I still don’t understand why they don’t like each other. Bella and I had left after a few hours and when I stepped into my room I saw Jasper passing around. He had a worried expression on his pale face.

“ Jasper?” My voice rang out in disbelief. Why is he here now? Once he heard my voice he turned towards me.

“ Y/n Darlin’ I’m sorry for leaving you like that. I’m glad you're okay.” His voice sounded sad and lingered with regret. He continued speaking.

“ Alice told me what you did and I’m so fucking sorry I had made you feel that way. Please could you find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me.” Jasper was trying to sweet talk me. I walked over and gave him a hug and shook my head yes. Knowing there was nothing that could never make me hate him.

“ Darlin’ I love you oh so very much and I want you to know that” Tears began to roll down my cheeks and collect into the soft wool of his sweater. We layed in my bed for the rest of the night, It was the least he could do for leaving unannounced.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #jasper whitlock #Jasper whitlock x reader

210 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 9 months

Note

Arranged Marriage - Alec and Magnus are going to be married as part of a treaty (Shadowhunters subservient position in the treaty), and the Clave tells Alec to be their spy so they can break the treaty without penalty but finding the Downworld in violation of it.

Instead, Alec sees all the benefits that come with being Magnus' spouse and goes "nah I'm Married now."

babe fuck you!!!

stop sending me prompts that turn into chaptered fics!!!!!! (this is a joke, it's just every prompt they've given me explodes and saeth teases me about it)

<3 u and hope u like it cause you're sleeping and i'm about to wake you up for dinner

<3 lumine

Alec stares at the man he’s supposed to marry.

The man he’s set to betray and he realizes that this isn’t going to be as easy as the clave and his family expected this to be.

It’s certainly going to be both harder and easier than Alec had expected this to be.

Alec walked into this with the understanding that he was being married off as his parents own form of penance.

— personally Alec thinks that the downworld wants to punish those specifically involved in the Circle and honestly, he’d do the same and worse in their place, he just wishes he wasn’t paying the price for his parents actions —

But originally, Alec thought that this would be simple.

He’d be married to a woman — he’d always known he’d be forced into eventually, that she ended up being a downworlder didn’t matter, he’d hate it either way — and do his duty as efficiently as he could while also spying on his wife as much as possible.

Alec hadn’t known he’d be marrying a man.

Especially not a gorgeous man, dripping with power and embodying a lifetime of shattered hopes and pushed away dreams.

It changes everything.

He changes everything.

—

Magnus is standing on the dais of the most heavily warded floor of Pandemonium.

The shadowhunters that pass through his wards are all unarmed and with none of their runes active.

They’re not allowed to have either of them, not in this space and not during this ceremony.

Magnus’ future spouse is walked in and draped in gold and blue fabric instead of the pale gold and white suit the nephilim had tried to put him in — did they think they were being clever, adding the color of mourning when they presented the suit? — unarmed and with no runes bared but for the one that peeks up past his suit.

He’s deceptively tall and while exquisite, he has the weary and drawn look of an active duty shadowhunter. The kind who get too little rest and not enough nourishment, through no fault other than that their skills are in constant demand.

Magnus had demanded someone of sufficient training, rank and bloodline to be his partner and the demand was met.

If he’s going to bring an enemy into his life, then he’s going to make sure that he’s depriving the clave of one of their finest weapons. Even when they were still in talks and Magnus thought he would be marrying the younger Lightwood, Isabelle, she was a blade taken from the clave. She’s already known for her successes and failures seducing the enemy and hardly someone who could go toe-to-toe with Magnus in seduction.

However, despite the fact that she was well known for her dalliances across enemy lines, she had been withdrawn and the eldest son presented. It had been a surprise but one Magnus was all to willing to accept.

After all, why steal the spare when you can take the heir?

Alexander Lightwood is both everything and nothing like how Magnus’ thoughts had formed him.

He walks like a man to the gallows but with the grace and dignity of royalty.

It might be considered insulting that he’s obviously upset, but Magnus knows that those being married to downworlders are being sacrificed on the alter of their parents sins. Magnus and the other Elders hadn’t seen a different choice. While none of them enjoy punishing children for their parents sins, they need the power of holding sway over the families who once joined the Circle. They also need to ensure that the heirs don’t make the same mistake their parents do.

The Elder Lightwoods both freeze upon seeing Magnus.

Fear, fury and disgust flashes in their gaze and Magnus smirks, realizing that they thought the groom would be changed upon offering their son.

A pity for them, but it changes nothing.

Magnus will not let the shadowhunters in charge of the largest Institute on his territory go unchecked. Which means taking on this roll for himself, despite the fact that he could have delegated it.

Hazel eyes meet his and his future husband nearly trips up the steps.

He doesn’t, but it’s close.

Instead he manages to turn his stumble into a glide and suddenly he’s close. Nearly too close because Magnus can see the shadow of his long eyelashes on his cheeks. It meant that Magnus is watching with intrigue as hazel eyes meet his unglamoured ones and they go dark and wide with delight.

The ceremony is a stifled, oppressive mumble of words and vows and magic that Magnus can barely concentrate on.

How can he, when his groom is holding onto Magnus’ hand like if he lets go, he thinks Magnus will disappear.

How can he think of any of his plans when Alexander is looking at Magnus like he’s an oasis he’d been convinced was a mirage.

— The ceremony is a monotonous blur until the magical binding of it, after which there are no celebrations.

That would be a step too far — according to the nephilim — and well, Magnus doesn’t want to spend more time than he has to with them anyways. Instead, he summons a portal the moment everything is locked into place and the vows made and witnessed and then they’re both in Magnus’ lair.

His shadowhunter snorts, something like relieved amusement in his tone. Magnus is about to demand what is so funny when his husband turns and pulls a small vial out of his pocket.

Magnus blinks, recognizing what it is immediately and his newly wedded spouse just smirks and sets it on the counter.

“Guess I won’t be needing this now.” With a shrug — as if he hasn’t just blown Magnus’ mind — he turns and looks around Magnus’ lair with careful consideration and muted pleasure. It’s clear he’s cataluging the layout and seeing where he can fit himself into the spaces. It’s so far from what Magnus expected — from the horror stories that he’s been told — that he’s speechless for a good two minutes.

Enough time for Alexander to strip off his suit jacket and unbutton his cufflinks and cuffs, putting the former in his pocket.

Meanwhile, Magnus confiscates the potent aphrodisiac that Alexander apparently no longer needs.

“Why do you have this?” Magnus asks finally, because he thinks he knows but he wants facts before he endangers whats been months and years of planning.

Alexander looks at him and the moment his gaze slides to the small vial, all the weariness and defeat that had been on his face until he’d first seen Magnus returned.

“My family assumed that I’d be marrying a woman and led me to believe the same.” Alexander says and then the weariness fades, something much softer taking over. “Since I’m not, I’m not going to need that.” He waves his hand to the small bottle and he shoots it a glare with a startling amount of venom.

Magnus curls his fingers around the small vial and vanishes it to his potions vault for future study. While he knows what it is, it never hurts to experiment.

“Oh, you won’t be doing your duty for house Lightwood tonight?” Magnus teases, daring to tread no further than the question until he has more information. Alexander seems startled and then he seems pleased but not embarrassed — even if his cheeks do turn a fetching pink.

“More like, I just won’t be needing help to fulfill my duty anymore.” Alexander murmurs, no hint of shame on him as he walks forward.

Magnus stays where he is, letting Alexander approach, knowing there is no danger here in his own lair.

Alexander hesitates, but then his gaze steadies and his hands — large, cool and so very gentle on Magnus’ skin — frame Magnus’ cheeks and for a moment hazel stares in unafraid awe into gold and then Magnus is being kissed.

It’s like being given a gift.

Alexander is delicate, careful at first and then nearly wild with his eagerness the moment Magnus reciprocates.

His kisses are generous and clumsy and so very earnest that Magnus has to get a hand in Alexander’s hair and pull him away, just so that his boy can catch his own breath.

Alexander tugs at Magnus’ grip and when his fingers only tighten, Alexander whines and then does it again, seeming to enjoy the sensation.

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs quietly, contemplation and a thousand thoughts in his words as he looks into the defiant, hungry gaze staring him down. “What am I going to do with you, hmm darling?”

The answer is kiss him.

This time taking control, devouring his shadowhunter until they’re both breathless and Magnus croons to a shaking, shuddering Alexander who is panting against him with a wild, delighted look.

Clearly, Magnus is going to need to figure this out. He’d expected and prepared for both the worst and the best, but this is beyond anything he’d considered from the realm of possibilities open to him.

alec: ... wow i've never been happier in my life

magnus: i am so confused by this and i want him so bad... WHERE IS THE TRAP!!! I DONT CARE THAT ITS A TRAP I JUST WANT TO KNOW SO I CAN SPRING IT, DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCES AND KEEP HIM

alec writing his reports to the clave in full view of magnus as magnus reads incredulously over his shoulder

magnus: alexander, why does the clave need to know that i think mismatched socks are a crime?

alec: they want new information on you. this is new information. i memorized your file. this wasn't in it

magnus: ... how? you didn't even know who you were marrying until you got there?

alec: oh. i can access clave records and files from my tablet, here. let me show you yours

magnus getting distracted by the frankly ridiculous things in his file

alec finishing his note to the clave: if we don't want this treaty broken against us, i need socks. send asap.

magnus two days later: ... why is the clave contacting my assistant about a delivery of socks?

alec: ... huh, how strange. after you make sure there isn't anything bad in them we should donate them to that werewolf hostel you were telling me about. didn't you say something about werewolves remembering to take off their shoes but never their socks?

alec internally - did i just trick the clave into helping my husband's community? yes. yes i did. i am best spouse and i'm going to prove it if i have to break the clave one firemessage at a time

magnus: ... i am going to figure out this trap one way or another!

(alec using every ounce of his political training to troll the clave while trying to learn to be the best house-husband in all the realms.

magnus just wanting to figure out how to make sure he gets to keep alec without being stabbed in the back or the heart.

alec being already his and not sure how that isn't already clear? but thats okay. he can work in some subtle treason to show magnus he's serious.

also alec is pretty much done. he was okay with going to the gallows and pretty much sacrificing himself because at least a political hostage in a marriage to a woman is still better to him than pretending to have a decent marriage and having to have sex for heirs etc. consummation is necessary for the rituals (they're pretty strict) but wouldn't have been a required part of the relationship and alec sterilized himself because he wasn't going t risk having a kid with a female fae or werewolf because he knows both sides would use any kids against him via manipulation since he'd never grow feelings for a woman.

alec after he's been given everything he's never let himself have and realizing that the clave and his family have made a big mistake, because alec doesn't care enough about the clave's political and personal agenda to give up on getting what he wants)

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #the bitter trap of truth #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

264 notes · View notes

sallowsunshine · 1 year

Note

SORRY you probably have gotten a lot of quidditch related requests now but I got one more for ya

Hufflepuff x Sebastian

After the seb quest, they don’t turn him in ofc and he starts playing quidditch to take his mind off things but is still standoffish to the reader because he thinks it’d be better for her if she(or they) just forgot about him. Well she gets a chance to get his attention again when the hufflepuff quidditch team begs her to replace their seeker that got hurt? After hearing about her fifth year feats and she can’t say no to her housemates. No one knows about it until she steps onto the pitch in the hufflepuff - slytherin match and causes an uproar

Don't Push Me Away (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Thank you for this!! I love this so much. Okay, this is mostly in Sebastian’s POV. also major spoilers for his questline.

Sebastian Sallow had lost control of his life. He’d lost his oldest friend, and his own twin sister, and he had nothing to show for it. It would have been all worth it if he had cured Anne, but she was no better. Knowing it was Rookwood all along did bring him a sense of piece, knowing he was gone.

The summer before his 6th year was spent in isolation at his family home in Feldcroft. Anne didn’t wish to see him, and Sebastian didn’t know where she was staying. Ominis could barely stand to be around him, he would only send him the occasional owl with updates on Anne. He knew time heals all wounds, but he was afraid these were scars that would never fade.

As for you, your summer was spent off on some other adventure, some other quest, some other ancient magic business. Yet you still took the time to send an occasional letter asking how Sebastian was doing. He was surprised to know you still wished to converse with him, seeing as everyone else had given up on him. Yet he never could send an owl back. He’d read and reread your letters, then sit down to reply, but he could never get the thoughts in his head out onto parchment.

The more time Sebastian spent alone, the more he realized what a horrible friend he’d been to you. You were there, every step of the way, defending his actions to Ominis, convincing him to give Sebastian one more chance, and then another chance, and then another.

First, he shifted the blame to the Goblins and Rookwood. Then he shifted the blame to Ominis, for not supporting him. Finally he looked at himself. He always thought the Dark Arts were hidden potential. He didn’t understand the fear behind the unforgivables. “How could a curse that could save your life be unforgivable?” he had once said. Now that he was on the other side of things, he knew why the Dark Arts were avoided. No one talked about the corruption the Dark Arts created. The hold it took on one’s mind was powerful. It was obsessive and invasive, and Sebastian no longer wanted any part of it. Yes, the Unforgiveable spells could save your life, but the aftermath would destroy it.

After that realization, he didn’t deserve to hear from you. He couldn’t bare it. So he ignored any other letters from you. He wouldn’t even open them. It seemed anyone he involved himself with always ended up hurt, or worse, so he decided the best course of action was to free you of him.

With how busy your summer seemed to be, he was sure you’d forget all about him and move on, but your letters never ceased. Sebastian tucked them away, leaving your concerns for him to be silenced.

After that, Sebastian finds tasks to occupy his mind. He takes to cleaning the house, clearing out Soloman Sallow’s belongings. He saves anything he might need or can sell, but the rest he gives to other villages in Feldcroft. He’s been avoiding Anne’s room, the feelings too painful to bare, but once he’s gone through everything else in the house, he finally cleans her room. Ominis had recently sent an owl, asking him to separate some of her things to be picked up at a later date. He opens her closet and pulls some clothing out. Something catches and he reaches to move it out of the way. It’s a wooden handle, and he pulls it out to reveal Anne’s secondhand broom.

The school year finally crawls around. Sebastian is used to summers speeding by, dreading the start of classes again, but this year it is the reverse. He has yet to reach out to you once, and he knows you’ll give him an earful. He hates himself for this, but he needs to be cold towards you. He doesn’t ever want to hurt anyone again, and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Omins, Anne, and you. Even if it means ignoring you. You’d eventually take the hint and leave him alone- and be better off for it.

Classes have yet to start and Slytherin captain Imelda Reyes is already talking about Quidditch team auditions in the Slytherin Common Room. After finding Anne’s broom, he had taken up flying and exploring the greater Feldcroft area. He’d never really been interested in sports, but flying provided a most welcome distraction. Before he thinks better of it, he’s approached Imelda.

“Imelda, I’d like to try out for the team this year.” Sebastian chokes out, a bit intimated by the Chaser.

“You?” She laughs. “Very funny, Sallow. Don’t waste my time.”

“Imelda, I’m serious. I’d like to play this year- or even just practice.”

“Seriously? Well, we did lose one of our Beaters. Although you’d need to bulk up for sure-”

He tunes out the rest of her ramblings about how he could better himself. He doesn’t know why he asked to try out. He just wants something to focus on. Something new, that doesn’t involve spells, or exploring catacombs, or- well, the list could go on and on. He wants something to focus on that won’t remind him of you.

Hogwarts hasn’t changed one bit over the summer. You’re happy to be back, happy to be able to stay in one place. The whole summer you were running around, tying up loose ends with Professor Fig’s leftover research on ancient magic. Ranrok was gone, but he had many allies out there that you spent the summer tracking down. You had just finished unloading your trunk and were ready to head down to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. You had yet to see Ominis or Natty, and were eager to greet them. As for Sebastian, you weren’t sure where you stood with him. He hadn’t responded to a single one of your owls this summer, and you would have thought something had happened to him, had Ominis not told you he too had been conversing with Sebastian. Except Sebastian actually responded to to his letters.

Sebastian was officially avoiding you. Every time you saw him in the halls, he’d duck away. Everytime you sent him an owl asking to meet in the Undercroft, you’d wait around for hours, and he’d never show. You didn’t want to ask Ominis about it because you knew they were still sorting out their own problems. He wouldn’t sit with you in class. You had no other conclusion to reach except that he no longer wanted to be your friend.

In a rush of frustration, you grab your broom, hoping the rush of fresh air would help calm you down.

You soar above the grounds, with no particular destination in mind. You’re surprised to find yourself at the Quidditch Pitch, where yellow and black robes cover the field. You land and walk in, excited to see your fellow Hufflepuffs’ Quidditch practice. Last year, Professor Black had cancelled the Quidditch season, so you were very much looking forward to it this year.

A couple students are hitting a ball a bit smaller than a Bludger back and forth with bats. Others are doing laps around the Pitch on their brooms. And lastly, Chasers are weaving back and forth, passing a Quaffle between them, and then attempting to score on a Keeper.

“Name and position you’re trying out for!” A Hufflepuff shouts at you, a clipboard covering their face.

“Oi! I know you! You helped save the world last year! With Professor Fig. My condolences by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met. My name’s Henriette Toro, but feel free to call me Henri!”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m not here to try out, I just wanted to watch.”

“Nonsense! You totally should- oh, I know! You should try out for Seeker! Our starter is injured and no one else seems to want to try out,” Henri glances over the clipboard.

“I’m not sure I even know all the rules-”

“Listen, you’ve got time! We play our first match in three weeks, and we can’t play without a Seeker. We’re playing against Slytherin, an unlikely match we’d win anyways. You’re practically Hogwarts loyalty. You playing for us is more for show. As long as you look like you’re trying, no one will bat an eye.”

“Well-” you hesitate.

“Listen, I know you know how to fly. I’ve heard Imelda grumbling about how you beat her time trials. Being a Seeker is all about speed. And good eyesight. I am begging you, please. Even if we lose that match, showing up with you on our team might make us the talk of the whole school.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll do it.” you give in, maybe wishing you hadn’t wondered over here on today of all days.

“Lovely! I will work with you privately throughout the weeks to get you ready. Don’t tell anyone though. I want to see the look on Imelda’s face when you walk out on to the pitch on game day.” Henri smiles mischieveously.

Sebastian loves the distraction Quidditch has provided him. He’s also surprised to find that he’s getting along with Imelda a lot more than he used to. Sort of. She’s been pushing the team extra hard this last week, staying out until it was too dark to see the balls, and making the team eat together in the Great Hall so she can monitor what they ate.

“As you all know, we play Hufflepuff tomorrow. I’m ending practice early today so we can all get a goodnight’s sleep.” Imelda is giving her pregame speech.

Early? Sebastian thinks, looking at the last bit of sun sinking over the horizon.

“-so I’m not sure who their Seeker will be. I’ve no doubt Toro is waiting to announce it, thinking it’ll bother me. Well, she is wrong!”

Sebastian tunes out the rest of Imelda’s speech, a bit nervous about the match. He wonders if you’ll be there to watch it, no doubt supporting your own house. He’s managed to avoid you for the first month of school by some miracle. Either that, or you must have taken the hint.

A wave of sorrow washes over him. Thinking about you makes him miss your friendship more than anything. He longs to talk with you, ask you how you’ve been, make sure you’re doing okay. But he reminds himself why he must avoid you. You’re better off without him. He knows if he keeps pushing you away, you’ll eventually give up.

Rain has been pouring down all morning, with no signs of stopping for the match, Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You didn’t realize Sebastian had made Slytherin’s team.Out on the field, you’ll be forced to interact with Sebastian. You learned that he’s a Beater, one of his position descriptions being, stop the Seeker from getting the Snitch as all costs. It’s game day and you’ve got the hood of your Quidditch robe over your head, keeping low so no one will recognize you, per Henri’s instructions. The team is lined up at the entrance to the pitch to make their flying introduction. Slytherin have gone it first, the audience cheering and clapping.

Sebastian finishes the introduction lap with his team, the adrenaline from seeing such a big crowd giving him an unfamiliar thrill deep inside. He settles next to Imelda in the air. Imelda’s got her eyes trained on the entrance, waiting for the Hufflepuff’s self-deemed ace of a Seeker.

The team enters, all flying in syncronization. In the back, is the new player, holding their hood over their face, keeping low and close to their broom. The team circles around once, the two beaters breaking off and doing some loops. They make their way to the center, the Seeker flying up to their starting position. Only then, they pull their hood back, revealing their face to the crowd.

Sebastian practically gasps with the rest of the crowd. The Hufflepuff side erupts into cheers. “No bloody way.” Imelda breathes out.

No bloody way is right. Sebastian thinks.

Everyone instantly recognizes the face of the Hero of Hogwarts. Sebastian just sees you. He’s a little peeved, mostly because all his work in avoiding you is now in vain. The game has started and he has yet to take his eyes off you. You’re floating pretty high above everyone else, your eyes scanning every inch of the pitch.

It takes narrowly avoiding a Bludger to the head to knock Sebastian back into reality. He focuses back on the game, a bit surprised at how dirty Hufflepuff is playing. Their two Beaters have got Imelda pinned between them, forcing her towards a wall and then releasing her last minute. She’s too quick though, and narrowly avoids crashing into the barrier.

Henri was right. Using you as their Seeker had the exact effect the team had been hoping for. Imelda was off her game, and the crowd was in an uproar. The rain has slowed to a light sprinkle and you were hovering above everyone, trying to spot the Golden Snitch. Honestly, in this weather, it felt useless.

Just then, a blur catched your eye and you turn in time to see a Bludger heading straight for you. You have no time to move, but someone zips up between you and the Bludger, smacking it away from you. To your surprise, it’s not a Hufflepuff Beater, but instead, it’s Sebastian.

“Sebastian!” you call out. He zooms away before you can stop him. You pull forward to chase after him. “Sebastian, wait, please.”

You’re the faster flyer, so you catch up to him easily. “Sebastian!” you call out one last time. “You’ve been avoiding me! Aren’t you tired of pushing everyone away?” you provoke him, hoping it’ll get him to at least face you. It works.

He slows and turns to you. “I’m not really sure this is the place nor the time to talk.” He yells so you can hear him through the rain and the noise of the crowd.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” you laugh.

He returns your smile, “And oh boy, did you! Let’s finish this game before Imelda takes my own bat and beats me with it.”

“No more running, Sebastian. It’s time to accept help. And friendship.” You point to the Hufflepuff crest on your uniform.

—--

I am fully aware I am lazy at finishing fics. Henri Toro belongs to cadencesroundglasses (not sure if you'd want to be tagged) thanks for letting me use your lovely Hufflepuff!

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #my writing

314 notes · View notes