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nineteenninety-six · 3 years

Text

A Little Bit of Sunshine

↳ Hector x Reader

↳ Word Count: 3.09k

↳ Requested by @shadechu

A/N: I have never written for Castlevania before but I really enjoyed writing this, it flowed so easily. Hector is probably OOC but who cares lol.

Anyway, enjoy :D

Hector had moved to a small town after everything had gone down with Lenore. After she died he realised how much damage she caused him, the lasting marks of her abuse and manipulation still scarred his body and mind and he could no longer stay in a place where they had lived and she had died.

The fact that he managed to escape the bond she had on him and that he was able to deceive her was only able to sustain him for a short while before everything fell apart and Hector was no longer able to act as if everything was okay, so he left and started anew.

The new town was on the smaller side but not small to the point where he would stand out. He easily blended into bustling crowds in the town centre and the residents treated him like any other local. For the first time in a long time, he felt normal, as working for Dracula was an experience that words couldn't explain.

He had his own little cabin in the woods where he could be at peace and the distance to the town centre was far but long enough for him to enjoy the sights as he walked past. All in all, he liked this new path of his life, it was almost completely different than it used to be and he expected to miss it but he enjoyed the calmness and serenity of this new path of his life.

On his usual weekly trip to town, someone called out to him, trying to catch his attention. it was a young woman, probably the same age as him and she was calling for his attention, waving him over to her stall.

"Sir! Sir!"

Hector looked up in surprise and as soon as the woman realised she had his attention a bright smile overtook over her face before she eagerly began to wave him over, swinging her arms back and forth over her head, gathering the attention of the other people around them.

Hector quickly shuffled over to them not wanting her to cause an even bigger scene and pull more attention their way.

"You're new aren't you?" Was the first thing out of her mouth.

Hector flinched in shock at her words, not expecting them. No one else knew he was new and that put him on edge.

"Oh don't look so surprised, I just know everyone that comes here."

Hector raises a brow at her words, " ... That's weird. You do realise that right?"

The woman shrugs, "Maybe but it makes for good business. People are more likely to buy something if I remember them from just previously meeting."

Hector realises that he's standing in front of a stall filled with baked goods, "You're a baker?"

"Family business," She clarifies, “I mostly do the selling due to my - "

"Charm?" Hector cuts in with a sarcastic tone.

"Actually, I was going to say my good looks but yes charm too." The woman grins.

Hector couldn't help but bark out a laugh, the woman never missed a beat.

"I'm (Y/N) in case you wanted to know" (Y/N) informed him with a wink.

Hector had to twist his lips so that the smile that so desperately wanted to escape, couldn't.

"Hector" He introduced himself.

"Well Hector, what can I get you? " (Y/N) asked, gesturing to the spread of baked goods in front of her.

Oh, she was smart. Catching his attention, making him come over to his stall and

converse with her in front of everyone and now he could surely not been seen walking away with nothing after taking up her time. While he didn't really care about the local’s opinions about him, he didn't want to be outcasted more than he already was.

"I'll have a loaf and a sweet pie please"

(Y/N) shoots him a bright smile and packs up his items, then collects his money.

"Thank you, Hector. I hope to see you again soon"

"I'll see you again" Hector responded

As he began to walk back home, Hector thought back on how easily (Y/N) made him feel at ease, how he brought a smile to his face and drew laughter from and he got scared.

This is how Lenore got her claws in him, she manipulated and lied to him before tricking him into servitude and he never wanted something like that to ever happen again.

He decided for the health of his mind, he would keep his distance from (Y/N). He couldn't find it in himself to completely ghost her and ignore her so he'll keep cordial. He'll be friendly but he couldn't let himself become close to her.

.•° ✿ °•.

His plan worked well, every time he went up to town he stopped by her stall and bought what ended up being his usual order of a loaf and a sweet pie, engaged in small talk with (Y/N) before leaving and it worked well for weeks until he had a dream about Lenore one night.

A mere dream had knocked him off-kilter. He had awoken a mess and fell out of his bed in his confused and frantic attempt to escape his blankets. He only managed to crawl a few paces before collapsing on the cold floor, his remaining energy only enough to let him roll onto his back. Hector blinked lazily up at the ceiling as everything he had locked away came rushing back. He relived the moment when he fell for her, the moment he realised that she had tricked him, the moment when she realised he betrayed her and then when she had died by her own will.

Everything that had occurred over the last few years played in front of his eyes and he hated every part of it. He could never forgive himself for being so naive and trusting yet he missed those traits of his.

When he 'awoke' again, the sun was moving low, signifying sunset wasn't far away. He pulled himself up and washed his face at the basin before he left his cabin, his feet taking him into town. The town centre was still busy despite the late hour and so was she, the woman who he came to see.

Despite the other stall owners who had either left or were in the process of doing so, her stall was still set up with what remaining items she had left. She was sitting on a stall with a book on her lap in a different world and Hector felt bad about disturbing her but he needed her.

He didn't even have to call her name, as soon as he was a few feet away, she looked up at him with a smile and closed her book shut, though when she got a proper look at him, her smile faltered.

"Hector?" She made her way over to him, brow furrowed in concern, "Is everything okay?"

He must look like a mess. He certainly felt it on the inside and he had been in a trance since he woke up, not paying any attention to his looks.

"I... um, I -" Hector stumbled over his words, his tongue suddenly heavy.

"Why don't you take a seat" (Y/N) guided Hector to her stall and offered him some water from the pouch at her side.

Seeing that he was in no position to talk about what happened, (Y/N) changed the topic slightly, "I thought you were not coming today. I got so used to seeing you, it would be a shame if I did not see you."

"But do not fret, I set aside your usual order for you," She said as she showed him a little wrapped up basket.

Hector nodded, the change in conversation took the pressure off his shoulders and he felt more at ease to speak.

"What do you do with the ones you do not sell? "He asked

"Today these are going to the homeless. I usually alternate between them, the orphanage and poor families"

"That is kind of you. Nobody did anything like that when I was young"

"I think the world is horrible enough with the wars and death and it costs nothing to do a little good within your own community" (Y/N) then looked up at the sky and noticed the changing colours, “Do you want to come with me as I give these out?”

Desperate for more of a distraction, Hector agrees and he helps her clear up her stan before they set off to a different part of town, him carrying the basket of baked goods for the homeless.

“Do you have any family, Hector?” (Y/N) asked.

Hector shook his head, his grey hair swishing around his chin as he did so, “Just me”

“Hm, well if you want any annoying younger siblings, I’ll eagerly give you all of mine”

“Surely they’re not that bad-”

(Y/N) lets out a laugh, “One day I’ll take you to meet them. You’ll regret your words!”

As they walked around, handing the food to the less fortunate, Hector noticed the strange way (Y/N) behaved. Her head constantly twitched one way to the other, as if someone was calling for her attention but she stopped herself before fully turning around to see and her eyes were flickering about like seeing things that weren’t there.

“(Y/N)? Is everything okay?” Hector asked

(Y/N) froze when he spoke, looking at him with wide eyes, she twisted her head around to make sure no one was nearby before she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hidden alcove.

There was fear in her eyes as she gripped his hands tightly, “I am telling you this because I trust you but you cannot tell anyone or they will kill me.”

“(Y/N)...?”

(Y/N) casts one more precautionary look around her before speaking, “I can speak to animals”

Hector blinked in surprise, that was the last thing he expected.

“You...speak to animals?”

“Speak, understand, you know the whole thing”

“...The whole thing?” Hector repeated after her.

(Y/N)’s shoulder slumped in disappointment at his words, “You do not believe me. Of course, you don’t, I sound like a crazy woman.”

“No, no!” Hector was quick to reassure her, “I don’t think you’re crazy, of course not.”

(Y/N) gripped Hector’s hands tighter in relief and he suddenly realised that they had not stopped holding hands since she had dragged him. Her hands were soft but strong and steady and they fit perfectly in his, he never wanted to let go.

“I could do since I was a child and I told my parents but they thought I was a child with a large imagination so they ignored me,” (Y/N) began to elaborate on her talent, “And when I was ten there was a witch-burning in our old town, an older woman was accused of conjuring spirits and setting against the people of the village but in reality, she was just a sick old woman who needed help. After that, I knew I couldn’t let anyone know about you know what”

“Why did you tell me?” Hector asked.

“...I don’t know. There’s something about you, so understanding, empathetic, trustworthy. I know I can trust you.”

(Y/N) had revealed her deepest secret to him, made herself vulnerable yet he could not do the same to her, though the ability to communicate with animals was much different than being a forgemaster.

“You can trust me, I promise I will not tell anyone.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a brief smile, “Your belief in me means more than you know.”

“Now,” Hector lifted the basket up, “Should we finish what we started?”

It had progressively gotten darker, the sun only moments away from going down completely.

“Of course! We must finish before it gets too dark.” (Y/N) stepped out of the alcove and hurried down the street, dragging Hector behind her, still holding on to his hand.

It was dark by the time they began to walk home, Hector insisting on walking her home so that she wasn’t alone at night. She stopped in front of a little cabin, not unlike his, it also wasn’t that far away from his.

“You don’t live with your family?” Hector asked.

(Y/N) shook her head, “It is better for me this way. I love my family, truly but the chance of them finding out about me is something I can’t risk. I cannot truly say that they wouldn’t expose me… there are some things that are beyond even family ties.”

“Anyway,” (Y/N) spoke with a sigh, “It is late, I need to sleep. Thank you for today, Hector. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Hector waited until (Y/N) had reached her door and spoke again, “Can we...meet again soon?”

(Y/N) gave him a toothy smile, “Of course. In two days by the lake? I can bring a picnic for lunch.”

Hector nodded, “I’ll see you then.”

He waited until her door closed before he made his way home, his heart feeling happy. He had forgotten how he felt earlier that day and (Y/N) had completely turned his day around. He did feel guilt though, he went to for help, a distraction which she provided and then she revealed a deep secret of hers yet he couldn’t even tell her about his nor his past with Lenore or history with Dracula and being a forgemaster. The things he carried were heavy yet (Y/N) had already been so understanding and kink that he didn’t fear telling them to her, he knew she would understand.

In two days at the picnic, he would tell her.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) was already by the lake by the time he arrived, speaking out loud to someone he couldn’t see but when he heard the responding barks and yelps, he realised that she was talking to a dog. He hurried his pace to catch up to her, excited to see her communicate to animals in person.

“Is that a dog you’re speaking to?” He shouted as he jogged over to her.

(Y/N) spun around with a smile, “Yes! I’ll introduce you to him!”

She crouched down and took the dog into her arms before turning towards him after he finally reached her,

“Hector this is- Cezar”

“-Cezar”

Hector and (Y/N) spoke at the same time. Hector stared at the dog he had not seen since Carmilla had dragged him away after Dracula died and (Y/N) stared at Hector, surprised he knew the little mongrel dog.

Cezar eagerly barked at Hector, his tiny body wriggling in excitement as he tried to escape (Y/N)’s hold, so she let him down and watched as he raced over to Hector barking like mad and when Hector kneeled down, the door jumped into his arms and wiggled some more.

“...So I guess you know each other then?” (Y/N) asked.

“Cezar is my dog,” Hector explained, giving the small dog rubs and pats, “I got separated from him a while ago but how did you meet him?”

“We stumbled across each other last year and then we became close companions...but I’ve always been curious about something about him.”

“Is it that he looks like he should be dead?”

(Y/N) laughed, “Yes, Hector. Don’t get me wrong, I love the little dog but he looks a bit beyond his years.”

Hector put Cezar down and together they began walking towards the lake so they could set up their picnic.

He took a deep breath before he began to explain what he could do, “I’m a forgemaster.”

“Forgemaster? What’s that?”

Of course, she wouldn’t know what that was, her world was not the same as his.

“I can bring back animals and humans from the dead and call demons from hell.”

“Wow...that’s uh...wow”

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you, I know it’s quite heavy stuff.”

“I did not know that was possible”

“Many don’t. It’s beyond comprehension.”

“If I wasn’t looking at proof right now” (Y/N) pointed towards Cezar who was trotting ahead of them, “I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“Is that what caused you such distress the other day?” (Y/N) asked as they found a place to sit down.

“No, no, that was about Lenore.”

(Y/N) kept quiet allowing Hector to speak at his own pace.

“I was taken captive, stuck in a cell and Lenore gained my trust, pretending that she was someone that I could trust only to betray me and me her slave to her and her sisters. I was under their or more specifically her control for over a year until I managed to trick her and end the ‘bond’.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Dead. She was a vampire and decided it was her time to go.”

“Did you love her?” (Y/N) asked

“No, I don’t think I did. After I realised what she had done to me any feelings that I may have had disappeared, they were not formed authentically. I still feel incredibly stupid about the whole thing, I was foolish to believe someone who was involved in sisterhood with the person who captured me would genuinely care for me.”

“You were not foolish, you were human Hector '' (Y/N) comforted him, “You were vulnerable and she took advantage of that, you should not feel ashamed. You are strong that’s why you’re here with me right now and Lenore is no longer alive. You will never be proud of yourself if you keep on diminishing what you’ve achieved so far. You’ll never be happy and I want you to be happy”

Hector takes her hand in his, “I want to be happy.”

(Y/N) smiles at him, “You will be, I know you will.”

“I want to be happy with you”

“Oh-” (Y/N) smile changes into a softer one that tickles Hector’s heart, “I want to be happy with you too.”

“Imagine it,” Hector falls onto his back and tugs (Y/N) down with him, “You, me, Cezar in a cabin in the woods and all the animals you wish to speak to”

(Y/N) laughs, “You wouldn’t believe how chatting animals are, I’m fine with just being me you and Cezar for the moment.”

Cezar jumps up on Hector’s chest with a bark before settling down with a huff.

“Sounds like he agrees”

#Hector #hector castlevania #Castlevania #castlevania imagines #hector x reader #imagines #castlevania imagine #imagine #x reader #castlevania fanfiction

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midgardianweasley · 3 years

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Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

#Natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff lfuff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanova #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

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Of Kings and Beasts - Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

366 notes · View notes

sonnet77 · 3 years

Text

Cyrus Lupo // Collateral

Summary: You and Lupes cared about each other, but the courage to say it outright? Not so much. Until, this happened...

Warnings: brief mentions of blood due minor injury

2,971 words

You enjoyed working at the D.A.’s office, but there was always something special about when you got to get out of the courthouse or One Hogan Place-- and tag along with the detectives somewhere. Detective Lupo always made Detective Bernard sit in the back, because you were the guest. Bernard let it go, after you said you appreciated it and so did your stomach, avoiding car-sickness. He didn’t want to chance it, neither did you.

Except when you sat up front, you started to have another fluttering feeling. It started to happen when you let yourself glance at Lupo occasionally. It wasn’t intentional at first, just a random occurrence. Then somehow you enjoyed seeing how his eyes crinkled at something you said, how his hair stuck stupidly out from his navy beanie, how his bearded smile or low chuckle was something to look forward to. Because it was contagious and made your day-- typically dark due to the subject matter of your jobs-- a little brighter. You liked hanging out with both detectives though, you all had a rapport that worked and balanced each other, and you self-centeredly assumed that they liked working with you more over Cutter.

You had accompanied Lupo and Bernard to execute a search warrant of a property you believed was unoccupied. You were there to confirm logistics, because in the past, little grammatical and inferences on the spot, messed up what technically meant what was and wasn’t able to be searched, and evidence got thrown out and threw a wrench in the case. You didn’t want that happening here. The detectives went to knock on the front door, out-of-courtesy, and peered into the front windows which were covered. You heard a faint noise, one that they hadn’t picked up on. You wondered if you had heard it at all, as you were leaning against the car by the road, coat in your hands now since the warm sun had been shining on your waiting frame. Your feet, however, were curious, and wandered in the direction of the sound you thought you heard further around the house. You noticed a side-door, and turned your head to check the surroundings. That’s when out of nowhere you suddenly felt a force pushing you to the ground, your arms immediately stretching out to prevent your head from hitting the asphalt. You yelped as you made contact, sliding against dirt on the pavement. The prior disturbance and running feet, enough for Lupo and Bernard to notice.

Moments before, Lupo had briefly turned from where he was at the porch, noticing your silhouette no longer by the car. He knew you wouldn’t listen, but he still warned you every time.

“Dammit,” he mumbled out of an exhale, knowing you and your dogged inquisitiveness and also the twinge of trepidation that came with it. He quickly walked down and towards the front yard, until he heard the sounds of the scuffle. Then he ran.

“Guys! There’s someone!” Your adrenaline managed to yell out, as Lupo rounded the corner of the house, seeing your body still on the ground, at the same time a guy was running past him.

“Bernard!” He yelled, “You’re one o’clock!”

Lupo started taking a step towards you, his mind torn at wanting to check on you, and wanting to chase after that guy, in a split-second. You saw him, debating, as you were half-way leaning up, “Lupes, I’m fine, go!” you ordered, without another thought.

He nodded at receipt of your instruction, as Bernard yelled something else to him. And then Lupo was gone. They managed to catch the guy off guard, and apprehend him. You missed the sight of it, muddling to get up, your arm sore from the unexpected injuries. You got up slower than you had intended, not wanting to put your pain and sudden fear on display. You knew the detectives would think twice about it next time, if you made this a big deal. And, it wasn’t a big deal. You were fine. Lupo met you again halfway, on your small trek back to the car, your one ankle feeling slightly off as you walked, but you didn’t say anything.

Your search was delayed, but a patrol was posted out-front in case other surprises were expected at the house. You went back to the precinct for the booking, annoyed that the day was disrupted. The guy in question was stuck in interrogation room #1 with Bernard only currently...

Because Lupo had to give himself another minute to stop the flames boiling his blood. He asked multiple times on the drive back, if you were okay. You said you were, secretly nursing your sore arm underneath the coat around your shoulders. It could’ve been worse you assured him. He still wasn’t satisfied, his eyes glaring underneath his aviator sunglasses at the idiot in handcuffs in the back-seat. Cyrus knew you could’ve gotten a concussion, or that guy could’ve had a gun. He stopped those same thoughts stuck again on a loop, sensing the tension running from his chest outward. He already went over-the-speed limit driving back. He needed to calm down then, and he still wasn’t any better now, staring at the man behind the two-way mirror. His hand balled into a fist. Lupo crossed his arms, covering up his overbeating heart-- that you were stuck in a part of, permanently, despite if he knew it fully or not.

You held your coat in your hands again, watching over the conversation that wasn’t really much of one in the small room. You shifted, your breath hitching at a burning pain you felt as your arm moved against the fabric of your shirt.

Lupo turned, hearing your gasp in the silence. That’s when he observed the stain on your light grey sleeve. He called out your name forbearingly, to which you turned to,

“You’re bleeding,” he stated plainly, as your eyes now stared at him.

“What?” You dropped your head, rotating your arm, trying to hide the sharp pain that increased when doing so, “Ugh,” you cleared your throat to shove the pain back down, “I’ll be fine.”

He ignored you completely, “No, at least let me get you a bandage, it’s bleeding still. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t argue against it, because he had already left the room. You inspected the wound, knowing the ache was growing and he was right, it was bleeding again. The bright red mixing with the darker dried colour on your sleeve, you wondered what bruises were forming underneath the surface. You realized you were lucky, aware of some of the other risks that could have happened. You knew you’d be okay, you could handle yourself, you always had.

“This was all I could find,” Lupo’s voice called out again, gesturing to the band-aid and alcohol wipe in either of his hands.

“Cyrus,” you gently whined. It was a name you liked, but never said much, falling from your lips in warning, “You don’t have to.”

“Well, my guilt says otherwise,” he argued, opening the cloth, before holding out his one hand for your arm to rest on.

“It wasn’t your fault, though, it was mine.”

“Technically, yes,” he agreed obviously, as he held back a smirk, “But without you as a distraction I don’t think the perp would’ve ran towards the front of the house and towards us,” he explained, calmly, as he cleaned up the wound, “so he could’ve gotten away.”

He felt your arm flinch at the strong sting of the alcohol. The grip of his one hand, which supported your arm, sensed your reaction, his thumb comfortingly grazing the unhurt skin as a distraction for you. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

Regardless, it worked, your pain fading as your own heart fluttered again. Your brain tried to remind you there was an interview going on a few feet from you, a different wrench in the current case. That this was totally unnecessary too. But you were still engulfed in the small act of caring willingly offered. Even if your face thought nothing of it on the surface, you tried to keep those feelings that were creeping in, at bay. You looked up at the compassionate detective, feeling the band-aid just freshly pressed against the wound, knowing he was finished tending to you.

“Thank you,” you, quietly and sincerely, uttered-- your softened voice causing a tug at the edges of Lupo’s lips that he fought to show fully.

“You-- you didn’t have to do this,” you meekly added.

“I know,” his low voice answered, before nodding, “I wanted to.”

Your eyes got caught in his gaze. You had intended to be nonchalant, but you failed. Or, Cyrus Lupo just observed your eyes enough to know differently. He saw the gratefulness, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. And, he thought he saw something else too, but wasn’t sure, because it was a new look.

His stare was so genuine, but at the same time too profound-- like he figured out how to get through every lock you put on the invisible doors into your head. It scared you, but at the same time you didn’t want to look away. A small smile was still sitting near his lips, coming into full view now, which caused you to mirror the expression on your face.

“Alright, apparently, Leon Anders...”

Reality snapped back to both of you, as Bernard’s voice hit your pairs of ears. You hadn’t been watching the room to see that the other detective had left.

“...Am I interrupting something?” Bernard questioned, his eyebrows raising at the odd sight of two-working professionals previously sharing smiles in the silence.

“Uh, inside joke.” Lupo easily explained, his head turning away to hide the burn that was traveling from his ears to his cheeks, scratching his beard.

“You’re not that funny, Lupes,” Bernard quipped back, with a tilt of his head, eyes still traveling between both of your faces.

“Leon Anders, what’s his deal?” You asked, interrupting the confused, awkward, and doubtful air in the room surrounding everyone now.

Bernard’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push it, “Anders was apparently squatting in the house, as he was told to stay there until he heard future instructions from Minetti, but then never did.”

“Does he know about--” Lupo began to inquire, Bernard knowing where he was going,

“I’m not sure. But, how he’s handled things up to this point, I’m guessing no.”

“Well, you can still keep him right now, give him an hour to see if he gets talkative again,” you added.

“I’m going to cross-reference the names to see if anything comes up. You can try a run at him, if you want,” Bernard offered to Lupo, before going to leave the room.

“Wait,” you called out, the detective stopping at the doorway, “What about the search warrant? Why wait on that any longer?”

“Yeah, Anders may or may not know something-- most likely not, but if anything is stashed away-- we can find it and confirm it immediately,” Lupo reasoned, “Or before anything else happens.”

“Well if you’re up for it,” Kevin asked, his own concern evident over what happened to you earlier, “then by all means.”

Bernard knew since you two suggested it, you two wanted to go together, and he wouldn’t intervene. It’s not like he never saw both of you sneaking glances at each other from the backseat. Come on, he was a reasonable guy. He rolled his eyes at it, but he wasn’t one to meddle.

You and Lupo shared one glance of agreement, before walking alongside each other to the exit without a word. You didn’t know if Cyrus was going to say anything before Bernard dropped in. You hadn’t had anything planned, besides continuing to grin there like an idiot. Ugh, you couldn’t stop it. Maybe you did hit your head, and didn’t realize it. First-aid wasn’t anything to read into. Speaking of injuries, you and your sore foot were thankful the car wasn’t parked in the farther lot.

When you walked down the steps of the precinct, the ankle you thought had stopped hurting decided to give out on you, without warning. You felt your leg buckle, your balance shift, and fear rise into your throat as you started to fall forward the last remaining couple of feet. Your voice made an unintelligible squeak in response to the impending injury. Your eyes shut and because of that-- you missed the keen reaction time of Cyrus Lupo, who had jumped off the last three steps, which wasn’t really much for his longer legs, and swung his body around in front of yours to catch you as gingerly as he could.

Your body stayed upright, and fell against soft layers of fabric over a strong chest, instead of the predicted concrete.

“Woah there,” Lupo exclaimed, mixing in his sarcasm, “No new parkour tricks on my watch.”

Your eyes shot open, and there he was with that scruffy smile. Dammit.

“You alright?” Lupo asked, eyebrows raising, noticing you hadn’t said anything.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and nodded a yes. Your brain couldn’t process words-- too frazzled over the multiple messages from your nervous system: pain, embarrassment, and a feeling that flooded your cheeks when you sensed someone’s strong hands snug around your waist just moments ago. In addition, your arm was ringing in pain from being jarred again. You squinted your eyes, trying to hide not only yourself, but also your hurting-- your other arm tending to your injured one.

At your response, Cyrus stepped a foot back, his arms letting you go, but not his gaze, which was still uncertain, “What about your arm? It doesn’t seem all right,” the detective inquired, his voice kind, but adamant.

“It’s just sore, like my ankle, I guess,” you replied as nonchalantly as you could, hating that you were admitting this out-loud.

“Do you need--”

“No. No hospital,” you cut him off, as you walked to the passenger side-door, “Let’s go. I’ve added to the delay enough.”

Cyrus hadn’t followed you. He was still on the curb, staring at you, shaking his head at you and your stubbornness.

“I’m fine!” you argued flatly, arms outstretched like it wasn’t a big deal, then gesturing to him to hurry up.

He unlocked the car, and you got inside, rolling your eyes to yourself. You hoped your blush had died down by now.

Lupo rolled his eyes, before approaching the car. He sighed, before opening the door and getting into the driver’s seat. The door shut and the engine started. You sensed the air was filling with aggravation. You bit your lip, pausing in thought, “Lupes?”

He tilted his head towards you, waiting for whatever you were going to say.

“I don’t want you guys worrying about me. It’s not necessary. It takes energy away from the job you do and it’s not fair to the victims. But uh, thank you for preventing me from getting a face lift from the ground right now,” you said, forcing a laugh, trying to shift the tone of conversation you had created.

“You’re welcome.”

Lupo debated himself in regards to saying anything more right then, but as he saw how your loose hair was framing your face, how the light falling from the window hit your eyes and made them flicker with some enticing glow, and how your mere presence existing in the passenger seat made him feel better, he couldn’t help it.

“I do actually like your face very much the way it is,” Lupo assured with a lopsided grin, as you felt a flutter behind your coat’s collar, “But unfortunately, you can’t control what other people worry about. It just comes with the territory of the job.”

“Well, thanks I guess, but I don’t need it.”

“When people care about other people, Y/N, they just do. It’s not something based on need.” Cyrus calmly argued, arm leaning against the steering wheel.

“You care about me?” Your brain blurted out, unconvinced at the fact or that you actually needed to hear it.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Duly noted,” you said, your own heart feeling too vulnerable in this smaller space, spilling over with something you hadn’t felt in some time, you took a deep breath, looking out the windshield, “I care about you too, you know.”

Lupo’s cheekbones rose with a small smirk, “Duly noted,” he mirrored, before adding, “But, if I have to prevent another workplace injury today, I’m going to have to start seeking reimbursement for medical costs.”

“How about dinner?” You boldly stated, leaving it open-ended, just in case, sneaking a glance at him after the last word left your lips. He saw that same new look in your eyes and suddenly he understood what it meant.

“Dinner?” His eyebrows raised, slightly surprised, his head leaning to the side, contemplating the question he already knew the answer to, “I’d like that.”

“Good,” you agreed, “my cooking is the collateral,” you noted, before getting back to the case at hand.

“Wait-- are you a good cook, though?” His eyes jokingly wide, “I want reciprocity made in good faith here.”

“Did you manage to get through another chapter of your law book?” You bantered right back.

He arched his eyebrow, “It was two chapters, actually. And, I still didn’t get an answer.”

“Shut up, and yes,” you said, before continuing with the case.

Cyrus let you talk and listened, his smirk turning into a grin to himself, as he put on his sunglasses. He put the car in gear and started the drive back to the house. He made sure not to speed, this time. Taking the slower side streets, on purpose. You didn’t mind, stealing another glance of him as he drove.

#cyrus lupo #cyrus lupo x reader #law and order #law and order fanfiction #cyrus lupo x you #cyrus lupo imagine

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piratewithvigor · 3 years

Text

Eldritch Horrors Anonymous: A Wrestler Fic

Dr. Shelby's led plenty of support groups before and helped plenty of people in them. But these people aren't exactly people...

(I spent the last two days binging matches and assorted other videos to try and get the characterizations right, so let's see how this goes)

Plenty of bad crack below

When Dr. Shelby had been approached with the idea of running this group, he’d been… unsure. Possibly even apprehensive. He’d led groups for violent individuals before; anger management was the most memorable, but the coordinator nearly begged him to start this one. She’d had some of these individuals in other groups, but none of their problems truly seemed to stem from the focus of the groups they tried. They had a unique problem. A unique struggle that needed support from others just like them.

It was the night of the first meeting and he wasn’t quite sure what the outcome might be. The community center had been advertising it for the last few weeks and he’d heard about some interested parties, but the exact number was a little unsure. He’d been told a ‘handful’, which wasn’t frustrating as an imprecise number until it came time to set up the chairs in the room. Six seemed like a good number. A couple, but not too many. Colder drinks were set out on a table along the edge of the room. Nothing too hot. A lot of those coming had problems with heat. As well as with machinery. Some of them had habits with… well, with making it explode.

God, he hoped nothing exploded during this meeting.

The flyer stapled to the bulletin board said the meeting started at 6 and it was 5:55 when Dr. Shelby sat down in his chair opposite the semi-circle. The noticeably empty semi-circle. A part of him was disheartened that the room was empty, but a much more selfish part was deeply relieved. He’d spent a few days reading articles about these individuals and how best to help them. Unfortunately, not much research had been done besides describing the pain they inflicted in such gruesome detail that Dr. Shelby had felt the need to make himself a cup of tea.

But those were laboratory settings. This was a friendly support group. No one was being forced to be there, or even being paid. They were coming because they wanted to.

By 6:03, he was tempted to just start packing up. Maybe no one was coming. Maybe the group was a bad idea in the first place. He’d been told to wait until 6:05 for people to arrive, but even just two more minutes seemed like too many to just sit there.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the large metal door on the other side of the room creaking open slowly. A hand gloved in black leather wrapped around and Dr. Shelby tensed for a moment until the owner of the hand appeared. A pleasantly-dressed gentleman in a neat sweater, a short beard and his hair pulled back looked around the room before spotting Dr. Shelby and seeming to relax.

“Excuse me, is this Eldritch Horrors Anonymous?” He asked, smiling warmly.

“Uh, it’s supposed to be,” Dr. Shelby nodded. If anyone had shown up, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue back.

The man’s smile widened and he turned back from the room to call over his shoulder. “Found it, guys! We’re supposed to be in here!”

Guys? There were more?

Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a bust after all.

The man stepped inside the room and pulled open the door politely. Dr. Shelby couldn’t see the people until they entered, but it didn’t truly matter; no amount of time could have prepared him for the group joining him.

The first one to nearly skip through the door looked like a child at first glance. Definitely not an eldritch horror. She wasn’t much taller than one and with her long blonde hair pulled into pigtails and a doll clutched to her chest, she looked even more like one. She paused long enough to thank the man holding open the door before taking a seat in the middle chair of the semi-circle, directly across from Dr. Shelby. It wasn’t until she was fully seated that he got a proper look at her face. Her strikingly icy eyes were surrounded by thick black rings and every time the hairs in front of her face moved, Dr. Shelby swore he saw black liquid dripping from her scalp. The chill that went down his spine was either negated or enhanced by her wide, jubilant grin. He wasn’t sure which.

The man who sat beside her also seemed confusingly normal at first glance. A plain black t-shirt and leather jacket. Perhaps a little more… edgy than Dr. Shelby would have preferred to dress, but he seemed like an equally charming young man.

Unfortunately, a pattern of three seemingly normal people did not necessarily mean the group would be.

The next one to enter the room had to quite literally duck to pass through the door. Dr. Shelby guessed him to be seven feet tall, give or take a few inches. He was wearing a black suit that covered most of his body, save for his face, which had its own covering of a deep red mask. He didn’t smile like the others had so far. Not even a polite half-smile of acknowledgment. Just sat down in one of the chairs that looked like it might prove to be a little too small.

Dr. Shelby had been so focused on keeping his expression steady while watching the masked member of the group that he hadn’t noticed one final member sneak in through the door and sit on the other side of the circle. He had an oversized alarm clock clutched in one hand, a paper bag in the other and a steady, intense smile in Dr. Shelby’s direction. Though his face was just as covered in red, he seemed to be the exact opposite of the stoic masked member.

“I think that’s everyone,” the man holding the door declared, taking one last glance down the hall before starting to let it go. He was intercepted by a gloved hand pushing back against the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” A final member slid in, face covered in white and black paint and a long leather coat stretching to his ankles. “All the hallways here look the same.”

“We had that problem too,” the man holding open the door nodded. “Kept walking around in circles trying to find the room. And it didn’t get much easier after the flyer got a hole burnt through it right where the room number was listed.”

“I said I was sorry,” the masked member grumbled.

Oh God, he burnt things unintentionally?

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all on time,” Dr. Shelby interjected, hoping to avoid any conflict between the members before the meeting had even technically started.

The final two men took their seats. Six? Not a bad turnout. Might as well get started.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Dr. Shelby.” A collection of polite nods came his way. “Now, you’re all here because you face the same struggle every day and you wanted to meet people like you. Am I right so far?” Everyone nodded again. “Good. I’ve led a lot of support groups just like these and almost everyone in them has felt major improvements knowing that they have a safe place to share their feelings every week. Why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and share what brings us here?”

It was always a risky move. Especially with brand-new groups. Some of them were bound to be a little more shy or wouldn’t really want to participate until they felt more comfortable with the other members. Dr. Shelby hoped there would at least be one outgoing one amongst them.

Dr. Shelby knew he wasn’t masking his fear very well. He’d perfected the perpetual smile; it was necessary when leading support groups, but he couldn’t always control his eyes.

The group all looked amongst themselves before the man in the sweater held up his hand.

“I can get the ball rolling,” he smiled, standing up. “My name is Bray and for the last few months, my body gets periodically taken over by my dark half named The Fiend, an entity whose sole objective is to cause as much pain and suffering to those around him as physically possible.”

“Thank you, Bray,” he tried to say with as even a voice as possible. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” the girl smiled, standing up with a flounce. “My name’s Alexa and this is Lilly.” She spun the doll around to reveal the most grotesque face Dr. Shelby had ever seen. He wasn’t certain from across the circle, but it looked like the teeth sewn into the mouth were real. “The Fiend showed me the way into the darkness, and Lilly took it from there.”

This is normal for them. It’s not going to help anyone here if you start looking like you’re scared.

But darn, is that doll ever creepy.

The man with the red face paint stood up next.

“I’m the Boogeyman!” He grinned with wide eyes, looking around at each member of the circle erratically. It was only as he began to move around that Dr. Shelby noticed the paper bag he was clutching seemed to be dripping some kind of dark liquid.

“Thank you for introducing yourself… Boogeyman. If it’s not too personal, do you mind if I ask what’s in your bag there?”

“Worms.”

“Worms?”

Boogeyman unrolled the bag and pulled out a handful of dirt-covered, very much alive earthworms before shoving said handful into his mouth. No one around the circle seemed all that disgusted. Like it was a regular Tuesday evening for them. Except for the man with the white face paint who seemed like he was as pale as a ghost underneath.

“I’ll, uh, that’s fine for this week, Boogeyman, but I’ll please ask you to leave your… worms at home next week. We’re not really supposed to have food in this room to keep it peanut-free,” Dr. Shelby explained, holding back the sick feeling knotting his stomach. “But if anyone is thirsty, I’ve got bottles of water and juice boxes on the back table. Feel free to help yourselves.”

Boogeyman nodded and carefully put his worms back into his bag as he sat down. The man with the white face paint immediately raised his hand.

“Yes, your name is…”

“I think I might be in the wrong place.”

Dr. Shelby looked him over. He didn’t look eerily normal like Bray, and he didn’t seem to have brought a bag of worms as a snack. Looked like he fell somewhere in between.

“You seem like you’re in the right place. This is Eldritch Horrors Anonymous; I don’t know where else you’d be tonight.”

The man’s expression changed from nerves to sheepish understanding. “I thought this was Troubled Goths Anonymous. I couldn’t find the flyer and followed Boogeyman in. My mistake.”

Dr. Shelby nodded understandingly. “Right room, wrong day. Troubled Goths Anonymous is Monday nights.”

The man stood to leave with his hands up apologetically. “It was great to meet you all, but I don’t belong here. Best of luck to you… eldritch horrors.”

“Oh, be careful when you come back on Monday. That’s also when they host Troubled Punks Anonymous. Very similar groups, but people seem to have very strong preferences of one over the other.”

The man nodded and left the room as Dr. Shelby turned back to the remaining members. “Some of you came here from those groups, right?”

“Troubled Punks Anonymous kicked me out a few days ago,” Bray sighed, his perpetual smile dropping for a moment. Everyone murmured their sympathy and Alexa patted him on the knee. “It’s alright, though," he continued. "You all seem like a much better fit so far.”

“That’s the point of this group,” Dr. Shelby smiled. “Now who’s next?”

The man in the leather jacket looked towards the man in the mask before shrugging and standing.

“M’name’s Finn. Sometimes the rage o’ battle brings out the Demon King Bálor from within me ‘n with the openin’ o’ his great eye, enemies are laid to waste a’ his feet,” he explained, about as casually as one would talk about what they did over the weekend.

“Glad to have you here, Finn.” It was getting easier to digest the stories of the people around him as he heard more. Maybe he’d even be able to hear the last one without faking the comfort of his smile. “And last, but certainly not least…” He turned towards the masked man expectedly. There was no smile, polite or otherwise. But he also didn’t seem like he was hesitating because he was shy. Just… grumpy.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself if you don’t feel comfortable, but we’re still a small group and as far as I can tell, all very friendly,” Dr. Shelby pushed a little further. The other members nodded in agreement. Even Boogeyman, who had snuck another worm from his bag into his mouth.

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’m Kane. I’m the devil’s favorite demon. I grew up in a basement, suffering severe psychological and emotional scarring when my brother set my parents on fire. From there, I shifted around a series of mental institutions until I was grown, at which point I buried my brother alive... twice. Since then, I’ve set a couple of people on fire and abducted various co-workers. Oh, and I once electrocuted a man’s testicles. Years ago, I had a girlfriend named Katie, but let’s just say that didn’t turn out so well. My real father is a man named Paul Bearer who I recently trapped in a meat locker. I’ve been married, divorced, broke up my ex wife’s wedding and attacked the priest and for reasons never quite explained, I have an unhealthy obsession with torturing Pete Rose.”

Okay, maybe they can get weirder.

“Thank you… Kane.” He paused a moment before remembering back to the list that he’d been given a few days before. “That name sounds familiar; I think I was told to expect you, but they said you might be coming with your brother.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Why not? Is he not an eldritch horror?”

“He is. He just won’t come. Has better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“He said ‘watching paint dry’.”

“Maybe when you see him again, you can tell him we’re more fun than watching paint dry,” Alexa suggested, bouncing Lilly on her lap.

“That’s right. And that goes for all of you,” Dr. Shelby mentioned. “If anyone knows someone who might need a support group like this, go ahead and invite them. This isn’t Fight Club; it doesn’t have to be secret.”

The group chuckled a little at his attempt at a joke. Even Kane cracked a small smile.

Dr. Shelby relaxed a little in his seat. These people might dress strangely and have bizarre interests, diets and backstories, but deep down, they were just like anyone else. Maybe he could help them after all.

#WWE #Alexa Bliss #Bray Wyatt #Boogeyman #Finn Balor #Sting #Kane #Writing #This was a fun experiment and if people want more I can be easily convinced

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spookysmujer · 4 years

Text

Peligro, O.Diaz

Summary: Oscar’s S/O getting hurt by a rival gang.

warnings: swearing, slight verbal/phyiscal abuse, fluff

requested by: @gemini0410

a/n: Thank you for the two requests! I apologize for taking so long to get these out but I appreciate you trusting in me to bring to life your ideas, I hope these are worthy of your liking. I want to thank all the new followers as well as the OG ones for showing me so much love even though I am barely active. Finally back in commission, also I just celebrated my 24th birthday! hehe. As always please consider: following, leave a heart and comment on my content, reblog it and turn on this notifs!! Thank you babes!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes ✨)

“Where you at now?”

The crisp wind is blowing against your face as you walk through the empty parking lot of the local animal clinic. The once brightly lit sky is now a deep dark blue. It’s a calming sight to see after that nearly 12 hour shift.

“Still at the clinic. Just as I was 10 minutes ago when you asked then.” You chuckle a bit as you get your keys out from your purse, pressing your phone to your ear with your shoulder. You hear Oscar’s light chuckle as well. He’s a worry wart, though he rarely shows around most. But with you, he’s always worried about your well being.

Your shift ended up a double when your co-worker called out sick last minute. And apparently everyone else couldn’t make it in. So you were running back and forth between the receptionist desk and assisting the veterinarian. But alas, you finally locked up the shop and now on your way home. Granted it’s an empty bed you are heading to.

Oscar had a drop to make across the city, a few hours away. Which is the reason for his persistent worry on your location. Things have been hot lately, shit constantly going on between the Santos and other gangs. And the fact that you had to work later than expected and out past 9:00 PM has Oscar on edge. Add the fact that he isn’t there to help you get home safely or home to him.

“Okay, I’m in the car now. Setting my purse on the passenger seat, turning on the car.” You tease, a grin permanently etched onto your face as you do the things you listed to him. “Keep teasing, nena. You know how things have been, I just want to make sure you get back to the crib safely.”

You smile to yourself, switching your phone call to bluetooth to be hands-free as you make the 20 minute drive home. Oscar stays quiet most of the ride home, the silence a comfort for the two of you. A long day of sick animals for you and a long day of meet-ups for him.

He suddenly hears the engine of your car shut off and a door close. This confused him as you’ve only been driving for only 10 minutes and you didn’t say anything about making home, “Where are you now?”

“I’m starving, I stopped at Dwayne’s. He extended his hours so I am about to get a fat, juicy burger with a side of fries and big ol soda!” You are drooling as you make your way into the shop.

The two of you bicker for a few moments later but you reach the counter and get your order in. He tells you to sit in and eat but you barely had energy left. If you were to grub on your food whiling dining in then you’d most definitely knock right out.

“Then get home. I don’t know why you didn’t have food delivered to you when you were at work. What part of it’s not safe on the streets right now are you not fuckin’ hearing?” Oscar has finally snapped as you get back in your car. You sigh loudly.

But before you can sass or even comply with him, the sound of the phone call ending sounds in your ears. You pull your phone down to see that it had died thus the sudden ending of the call.

“Shit.”

You mutter as you lean over to see if you left your phone charger in the glove compartment, but to no avail. The amount of ‘shits’ you spew out is enough to fill a swear jar. You can hear Oscar from all the way over here. He’s on edge with the drop, with being away and now this shit.

The idea of Oscar being more stressed then need be because of you causes you to lean your head back and close your eyes for a second. Just get your culo home, Y/N. You say to yourself as you sit upright in the seat.

As you turn the key into the ignition to start the car, a spurting sound comes from under the hood. You try a few more turns, cursing more loudly as the car fails to turn on. You look around and the only other car in Dwayne’s parking lot is the worker in the restaurant.

Before you can get out of the car to head back in to ask for some help or to use a phone, a few more cars pull in. You sit back as the cars park across from you, not recognizing any of them. It’s when its occupants exit the car, you feel your heart skip a beat.

19th Street.

The purple and white sticking out against the moonlight. You watch as they all cluster together as a few enter the restaurant. You’re stuck, your car isn’t working and your phone is dead. And the only saving grace is heading inside but at this moment what would that really do? How would the poor young worker be able to help you out with the bunch of wannabe gangsters out numbering the two of you.

In the midst of your thoughts, you hear the sound of gravel crunching nearby. When you look up you see of few of the members heading towards your car. Panic sets in deeper.

“Ay, Spooky’s chick. You far from your Spooky, ain’t you?”

You try to ignore it but you feel a bunch of eyes on you. The comment of being Spooky’s girl gets the attention of the rest of those that were standing by their cars. Your heart rate begins to pick up now.

“Yo, I’m talking to you!”

And in this moment, you realize why Oscar always worries for you. Not just because things are hot with the two gangs at the moment because most of the time you aren’t aware of your surroundings. For example, Oscar always tells you to lock your car door when you get in. It don’t matter if it’s early in a crowded area, always lock your doors. But with the phone call, you were distracted and didn’t.

So when your door is quickly opened, you mentally damn yourself.

“Oh, yeah that’s Spooky’s ruca. Get her fine ass outta the car.”

You try your best to to move over the middle console to the passenger side or through the back seats. You figure if you can do that then you can get out from that side of the car. But barely over the middle console, you feel hands pull at you.

Never show weakness. You hear Oscar’s words.

You kick and thrash as hard as possible as you hold onto the inside of the car, fighting them off with every ounce of strength you have.But it’s useless as more hands reach in and get a good grip on you. They pull you out of your car with ease.

“Get off me, I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in your fuckin’ head!” Your voice is sturdy and holds power in it. Something else Oscar has always reminded you about.

They only laugh at your words, “ Big words for a lil hyna, huh? I wonder just how good that mouth of hers really is.” The sick and vile thoughts of what they could do to you begin to cloud your thoughts. As they all laugh and catcall you, you spit harshly in one of their faces.

This earns you a harsh slap across the face, the sting registering instantly. A hand grasps your face, squeezing your cheeks as they step closer to you now directly in your face. Your arms are being bound behind you from other, leaving you defenseless.

“Big words, you ain’t doing shit. You can’t do shit not without your big bad Santo, can you? Not to worry babygirl. I can show you how a real gangster does it.” He gets closer, feeling your waist with his free hand as his other still holds onto your face.

A sudden shot goes off, alerting everyone around you. They all reach for their guns and turning towards the sound of the shot. And a big wave of relief washes over you. Dwayne stands with a shotgun aimed their way, not a look of fear on his face as 6 glocks are pointed back at him.

“I suggest you all leave. You got your food, now get the hell off my property.” He says making sure to have a sight on everyone.

Your heart is beginning to calm as headlights shine onto you, a few cars pulling into the parking lot and familiar faces appearing. A few Santos quickly pulling out their guns and aiming to the members of 19th street.

Sad Eyes stands tall, towering over everyone. “Do as he says or all your moms have funerals to plan tomorrow. If not, Spooky is on his way and bet, you gonna wish you were already fuckin’ dead.”

Those of 19th street give a glance at the one who has your face in his grasp. He nods and they lower their weapons, as he releases his grip on your face. The one who had a hold on you releases too.

Once they hop back in their cars, the Santos put their guns away, Sad Eyes walks over to you to make sure that you are seriously hurt. You nod and push away his hand that went to assess your red cheek, “I’m fine. How’d you get here so fast?”

He chuckles, “As soon as you told him you had to work later than you were suppose to, he told us to head back. He was right to, shit been getting way too out of hand especially with 19th street. Still not carrying the glock, I see.”

You shake your head, averting your gaze to avoid the told you so look from him. Your attention is pulled from Sad Eyes when headlights shine again through the parking lot. The infamous cherry red impala pulls up. The engine is barely cut when he’s out of the car and in front of you.

Sad Eyes steps back as the rest of the Santos do as well. “Let me make you all something to eat,” Dwayne says out loud as everyone piles inside to give you and Oscar privacy.

“My phone died, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t notice how low my battery was and then my damn car wouldn’t start and the-” The water works begin, the lip trembling and the reality of what just happened hits you all at once. Oscar lets you cry in his chest.

He fights between wanting to lecture you or comfort you. Tonight could have ended badly had his gut not told him to send out some of his guys. And with you failing to always be aware of your surroundings, right now he could be on his way to the morgue to identify you.

His arms eventually wind around you, his face pressing into your hair. For a moment, he melts and relishes in the fact that you are okay and that you are in his arms.

“You’re safe. And I’m here. Everything else is in the past and we let that shit go. But best believe this, nena. When the streets are hot, you turn down doubles and I want you with me as much as physically possible. Because the fuckin’ thought of you hurt because of me...” He trails off, his voice now a bit shaky.

You peer up at him and smile slightly, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. Gently caressing your aching cheek, pecking a soft kiss on it. You sigh in relief as he holds you close to him and not wanting to let go.

Ever.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz x y/n #oscar diaz x you #spooky imagine #spooky x reader #spooky x you #spooky x y/n #omb #on my block #netflix on my block #omb imagine #omb fic #santos #east los

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

Something Wicked

part 5

masterlist

Alright my darlings! Here it is! sorry it took so long to come out. I’ve been just swamped lately, and this election has me majorly on edge. But it’s here! Please enjoy!--- chaotic puff

She flipped through the wardrobe looking for anything in the cavernous closet that resembled a pair of pants, but there was nothing. There were only skirts, and blouses, and an abundance of feminine dresses. Nothing about the disturbing collection of clothing Jin had provided for her exactly said comfort, but it practically screamed rich house wife, a fact that was almost as disturbing as the fact Jin had a collection of clothes ready for her and all in her size. She didn’t even want to think about why he knew her sizes.

She’d looked through the closet at least three times now, but she continued to search. It seemed though that her choices were either wear the skirts and dresses or steal Jin’s clothes. She noticed with no small amount of distain that Jin kept comfortable clothes for himself. There was a collection of oversized sweatshirts and soft sweatpants in his section of the closet, but she didn’t want to touch his clothes. She didn’t want to touch the provided wardrobe either though.

“I see you’re awake!” Jin grinned cheerily as he strolled into the closet. She froze, fright immediately overcoming annoyance. He moved towards her at a leisurely pace, and she scrambled back frantic as there was nowhere for her to flee to. “How are you this morning, my darling?”

“Stay back!” She whimpered shrinking against the wall.

“Oh darling.” He cooed smiling at the way she trembled before him. “You must be freezing in just that nightgown. Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

She continued to shrink away from him, but he ignored her turning his attention to her wardrobe perusing the skirts and dresses eager to dress her up in styles and fabrics that were befitting of her station as his woman.

“Did you have a good rest, darling?” He asked turning to her with a soft smile as he plucked a soft cream sweater from the rack. She stared back at him debating if he was serious or not. He had forced sleeping pills down her throat as soon as he had put her back in bed. It had been a blissfully dreamless sleep if not an unwilling one. “You’re still looking a bit tired.” He mused turning back to the clothing and plucking a cream skirt from the rack as well in what seemed like a satiny material. It would be more comfortable than most of the dresses she saw at least. “Why don’t you get dressed, and then we’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

She flinched back as he handed the clothing to her, but Jin didn’t pay it any attention. She was still in shock that was all. Everything would be fine once she settled in. “Do you need some help, darling? Are you still feeling sick?”

She scrambling away from his approaching figure clutching the clothing to her chest as though it could protect her from him.

“None of that.” He scolded pulling her toward him. “If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”

He pulled her with him over to another drawer, one that she knew from her search for pants contained an alarming assortment of lingerie. He pulled out a pair of undergarments handing them over to her as though there was nothing at all unusual about the situation at hand. “Come along. Get dressed, darling.”

She stared at him trying to figure out if he was truly expecting her to change in front of him, but he showed no signs of leaving.

“Do you need help?” He asked stepping forward, head tilted curiously to one side as he assessed her. She hadn’t moved yet, and he couldn’t understand why she hadn’t moved. She had the clothes, and he knew she wasn’t stupid. He pushed the straps of the nightgown off her shoulders despite her protests as it pooled to the ground leaving her in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties.

“Sajangnim!” She yelped hands immediately flying to cover whatever she could from his sight.

“Jin.” He scolded. “You will call me Jin. We’re not in the office anymore, darling. There’s no need for such formality. We’re finally together.”

“Sajangnim.” She repeated trembling under his gaze but trying to remain strong as he stared her down frowning in displeasure.

He grabbed her hair tightly, bringing her into her chest and bending her neck at an uncomfortable angle as he forced her to look at him. “You wouldn’t want to make me upset now, would you, darling?” He cooed though there was something harsh and cold in his eyes offsetting the gentle tone. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“Please,” She whimpered. “You’re hurting me.”

“Then be a good girl, and get dressed.” He released her watching her stumble back desperately trying to keep herself covered and keep her balance at the same time.

She kneeled down picking up the dropped clothing and quickly slipping into the undergarments. It wasn’t much, but it was at least something that kept her shielded from his eyes. He was at the very least kind enough to hand her the rest of her dropped clothing even if he was not kind enough to give her privacy to get dressed.

Even with clothes on, she felt exposed. He had seen her completely exposed. It was with horror that she realized he had probably been the one to undress her and put her in the nightgown to begin with. She doubted he had allowed the house keeper to do it, or that the house keeper even knew she was here.

Once she was dressed, Jin sat her down at the vanity running a brush gently through the hair he had so harshly gripped only moments before. It was an unnerving contrast, but she allowed him to continue, frightened of what he would do if she resisted. He seemed slightly unhinged one minute, and then perfectly content in the next. The motions were repetitive and easy, but Jin looked so happy to be doing something as simple as pulling the brush through her hair. It was too strange. Too domestic. Since when did Jin show this much care for other people?

“There.” He grinned setting down the brush and caging her in from behind placing his hands on the vanity on either side of her. “Beautiful.” He kissed the top of her head, and she had to suppress a shudder as she watched his dark eyes through the mirror. “Let me grab some jewelry for you, darling. You stay right here.”

He moved away, and she was watching him through the mirror all the while as he pulled out drawers examining the jewelry within. She had found those as well during her quest for pants. The closet was filled with expensive clothes and extravagant jewelry and shoes that would have made Carrie Bradshaw faint, but not one pair of pants meant for her.

He came back handing her a pair of earrings, a simple pair of pear shaped diamond studs. He also clasped a gold locket around her neck. The outside was decorated in an intricate but delicate filigree. It was beautiful. In any other situation she would have loved it. She would have dreamed of buying it, but it was here, with Jin, and everything was wrong.

She stared at him through mirror as he finished. He looked so utterly relaxed, content as if this were all normal for him, as if he did this every day.

“Jin?” She asked voice soft and shaky.

“Let’s get you some breakfast, darling.” He smiled contentedly pulling her up from her seat and leading her through the penthouse towards his kitchen.

Once there he sat her down at the kitchen island as he got to work preparing the morning meal. It was odd. She knew Jin could cook, but he had never cooked for her. She had always ordered take out when they worked late at his penthouse. If she was there, there was usually too much work to be done for them to be concerning themselves with cooking.

He moved with such practiced ease through the kitchen that she couldn’t help but wonder if this was what he had intended all those times he had tried to invite her to dinner, but in the same train of thought she had to kick herself for not noticing how unusual Jin’s conduct towards her was. How could she not have seen? Yes, she had found him unnerving, but she had never acted on it. She should have acted on it.

“Jin?” She asked again, trying once more to begin her line of questioning. There were so many questions running through her head, but there was also a fear of saying the wrong thing and brining Jin’s wrath down on her head.

“Yes, darling?” He asked looking away from his cooking to face her.

“Why am I here? Why is there a closet full of clothes for me?”

She dreaded the answer, but it had to be asked.

“Because this is your home, darling.” He chuckled as though the question were silly, something she should have already known.

“This isn’t my home.” The words were said slowly, carefully. She wanted to make her point, but she also needed to be careful of Jin’s reactions.

“Of course it is, darling.” He chuckled setting a western style omelet in front of her.

“You were just at my house the other day.” She reminded him. “When you took me home, and the police came for Minseok.”

“Don’t.” He hissed grinding his teeth. “Don’t say his name.”

She took a breath trying to calm her racing heart as well as her racing thoughts. “Why am I here?” She asked again staring into his eyes as she searched for answers.

“I already told you, darling.” He scoffed leaning across the counter to brush a stray piece of hair away from her face. “You’re home.”

“And I told you that I’m not. I have to go home. Someone has to look after Jinnie.”

The human Jin hummed in distaste. He had forgotten about the pesky dog. He had hoped she would as well. “We can get you a nice pure bred dog if you’d like.” He offered smiling indulgently at her.

“I don’t want a new dog. I’d like to go home now please. I need to take care of Jinnie, and I need to start looking for a new job.”

Jin’s brows scrunched together in dissatisfaction. “You won’t be working, darling. Why would you? I have everything you need right here.”

“I have to go home. I have to work. I have bills to pay.” She kept her voice steady but the sense of unease was quickly growing into panic.

Jin sighed running a hand through his hair before leveling her with a disappointed look as though he were a parent scolding a child. “Darling, you aren’t leaving. This is your home.”

“This is your home.”

“And now it’s yours.” She really didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re staying here, with me.” He explained pasting on a smile that had that same parental quality to it as though she was a wayward child who didn’t understand her situation. True, she did not understand her situation, but she was by no means a child.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve brought you home, darling. We can be together now, no distractions.”

“What?” She breathed out the questions eyes wide with shock and distress.

“You should eat.” He motioned towards her plate worrying over her lack of color and the way her hands were trembling. It was his job to take care of his darling, and he didn’t want her collapsing again. The doctor had said it was exhaustion and dehydration, but he was still worried. She needed to get her strength up.

“What do you mean, we can be together now?” She asked ignoring his prompting and the omelet slowly growing cold in front of her.

“I mean, that we’re going to be together, just as we should have been from the start.” He smiled cutting up a piece of her omelet and holding the fork out to her like one would a child. “Say ‘aaaaah’.”

She pushed the fork away concern distorting her features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never been together. I don’t want to be together.”

It was with dawning horror she watched as his features darkened with a carefully controlled rage, but as quickly as it came, it passed away again, replaced by something more condescending in nature.

“You don’t mean that, darling.” He grumbled pasting on a mirthless smile as he spoke to her. “You’re just tired. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll feel better after you eat something. The doctor said you might be a little out of it after your collapse.” He held out the fork to her again pressing the piece of omelet against her lips and shoving it in when she opened her mouth to protest. “There.” He smiled slightly more contented now that she had had a bite of his food. “Isn’t that better?”

She chewed and swallowed watching him the whole time with wide frightened eyes. He was unhinged, completely mad. Did he actually think they were together? What had she gotten herself into?

part 6

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts seokjin #bts jin #kim seokjin #yandere seokjin #ceo seokjin #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #yandere jin #ceo au #ceo #dark romance #something wicked #bts fanfic #yandere

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 30

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,550ish

Summary: The Stark Expo begins.

Tony had drunk and partied all night and day before the opening ceremony of the Stark Expo. Y/N, Pepper, and Tony were currently on a jet, flying to the expo. Tony was going to arrive there via Iron Man suit. Y/N nervously bit the inside of her cheek as her and Pepper watched Tony throw up. She was nervous about Tony using the suit. Y/N had called Fury for help a few weeks ago, and sent him the information JARVIS let her see, but hadn’t heard anything back. Fury had told her that he would handle it, and she trusted that. She just didn’t understand why she hadn’t heard anything yet.

Tony and Y/N had been on the rocks as of late. Y/N kept asking what was wrong and Tony kept denying that something was wrong. So he ended up pushing her away. Which was actually hurting the both of them.

“I’m not going to make it,” Tony whispered into the toilet bowl. “Oh my, gosh,” he groaned, throwing up. “I’m not going to make it. Oh gosh!” He threw up again. “I’m serious. Give me a little space.” He waved towards Pepper and Y/N who were leaning against the doorway of the jet bathroom, watching him suffer. “I can’t—“

“Get up,” Pepper commanded, obviously done with his dramatics.

“Oh, gosh,” he groaned again. “I can’t go through with it, I’m telling you.” Tony slowly sat up, leaning against the wall.

“We don’t have time for this,” Y/N exclaimed. “We have to go.”

“Oh gosh,” Tony closed the toilet lid, “you don’t want to see that.” He flushed the toilet before standing up and using the doorway to hold himself up. “Where am I?” He panted. “Do I look weird?”

“You look like you look everyday,” Pepper said. “You look like you have a hangover.” Y/N and Pepper began guiding him towards the doors.

“Mist me with a Sheen thrower, will you? I literally almost just died in there. Give me some toast, give me some crackers. Ginger ale, anything. Give me some Advil.” Tony made his way to a seat.

“We don’t have Advil,” Y/N said. “We have Motrin.”

“Motrin?” Tony faced Y/N. “I’m telling you there is something seriously wrong—“

“Yes, there is something seriously wrong—“

“—with giving a grown man Motrin!”

“—with you! It’s a brand name!”

“I’m not on my cycle, Y/N!”

“It’s ibuprofen!” Pepper added.

An alarm began beeping and a man started talking over the PA, notifying them that it was time for Tony to jump. Pepper grabbed Tony’s arm and pulled him up.

“Abort mission!” Tony shouted. “There it is!” Tony pointed to an oxygen mask connected to the wall, stumbling towards it as Pepper tried to guide him. “Abort! Tell him to stop saying we’re dropping.”

“We’re not—“ Pepper began as Tony grabbed the mask and continued shouting.

“I am not doing this mission!” Tony stuffed his face into the mask. Y/N simply stood back and rolled her eyes.

“We’re not aborting the mission. Do you have any idea the level of coordination it took for the DOD to approve this?”

“We are over the drop zone, Tony!” Y/N exclaimed, done with the way he was acting.

“What?” He turned around to face her.

“Yes!”

“Let’s do this, baby,” he whispered, huskily, before walking over to the ramp. The two women followed, stopping beside Tony. He quickly turned and grabbed Y/N by the arms. “I know I can be selfish sometimes. And I know I don’t say it enough.” Wow, was Tony Stark actually going to thank her? Apologize? Or at least saw something nice? “But how’s my hair?” Or not.

“You’ve said that before,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I know, but this time, I mean it. Is it piece-y enough? Do I need more product?”

“Yeah, you’re looking good,” Pepper said from behind Y/N.

Tony dropped Y/N’s hands and walked to Pepper. “You like the wind-blown look?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, give me a smooch for good luck. I might not make it back. This is heavy stuff.”

Pepper brought the Iron Man helmet up to her lips, which she had been carrying around the whole time, and made out with it for a few seconds, before throwing it out of the jet.

“Go get ‘em, boss,” she smirked at him.

Tony ran towards the end of the ramp. “You complete me,” he stated as he jumped.

Y/N watched as Tony flew, a little sick to her stomach. She had been working on her fear of heights, but she still was ready to ever have to jump from anything too high again. Pepper watched Y/N carefully, as they went back into the jet and sat down.

“What’s with you two?” Pepper asked. Y/N immediately looked at Pepper, confused. “You guys seemed to be more annoyed with each other than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing’s happened. It’s just Tony being Tony and me doing my job.”

“Are you sure? Did you two… I can’t believe I’m going to ask this… Did you two sleep together?”

“No! I’m more professional than that! Plus, he’s been too busy screwing any model that simply breathes in his direction.”

“It’s true. I thought he was getting better, but then… I think this whole Iron Man thing has gotten to his head,” she sighed.

“We’re hovering just off the ground outside the Expo,” a man said over the speaker, as he lowered the jump.

The women stood up and walked to the edge of the ramp. They both jumped out and made their way towards the dome that the stage was held in.

“I’ve got to talk to a few people about vendors,” Pepper said once they were in the building. “Happy should be back stage waiting for you.”

“Thanks.”

Pepper gave her a small smile before walking the opposite direction Y/N was headed. When she got back stage, Y/N realized that a video of Howard was playing on the screen. She froze, looking at a video of her long gone friend. He was older in the video, then when she had known him. But he was still handsome.

“Hey,” Happy’s voice broke her out of her trance. “Tony’s ready to go.”

“Okay,” she nodded, following Happy towards the staircase. She noticed Tony was already there.

“How’d I do?” Tony asked her.

“Didn’t get to see it,” she responded. “But I’m sure it was great, Boss.”

“All right, it’s a zoo out there,” Happy stated. Tony threw his jacket at the man. “Watch out.”

Happy and Y/N walked on either side of Tony, as they pushed their way through the crowd of reporters and screaming fans that were lining the back halls. They had to keep both the crowd and Tony in control. Women were throwing themselves at him, kids wanted posters signed, and reporters keep shouting questions. For Y/N, it seemed to take ages for them to get out of that building. Once they reached outside, Y/N took in a breath of fresh air.

“Very mellow,” Tony stated as they exited the building.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Happy agreed with Tony.

“No, it was perfect.”

“Look what we got here,” Happy unlocked the car waiting for them out front. Y/N noticed a women with an envelope in hand, leaning against the car. “The new model.”

“Hey, does she come with the car?” Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed, causing Tony to glance her way.

“Let’s certainly hope so,” Happy stated.

“Hi,” Tony greeted the woman, holding his hand out.

“Hi,” she responded, shaking his hand.

“And you are?”

“Marshal.” That’s when Y/N caught a glimpse of the envelope and caught on. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Irish,” Tony kept walking around the car. “I like it. I’m on the wheel. You mind?” Happy shook his head while removing the roof. Y/N sighed when she noticed that their were only two seats. “Where you from?”

“Bedford.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Yeah? You found me.” Tony cleared is throat while getting into the car. Happy gave Y/N a small look of apology as he got into the passenger seat. The two men had obviously talked before, and Y/N was allowed to come with. “What are you up to later?”

“Serving subpoenas.” She handed him a letter.

“Yikes.”

“He doesn’t like to be handed things,” Y/N stated, taking the letter from the woman.

“Yeah, I have a peeve.”

“I got it,” Y/N stated.

“You are hereby ordered to appear before the Senate Armed Services Committee tomorrow morning at 9 am,” Marshal said.

“Can I see a badge?”

“You wanna see the badge?”

“He likes the badge,” Happy said.

“You still like it?” She questioned as she showed him her badge.

“Yep.” Tony started the cars engine. “How far are we from DC?”

“DC?” Y/N repeated. “About 250 miles.”

The tires squeaked as Tony drove off. Y/N shook her head and sighed. This man was just too much for her sometimes.

next chapter >

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cl-01-kestis · 3 years

Text

Shut Me Up - Jerome Valeska x Female Reader | Part 3

Summary: You continue recieving more calls from Jerome and getting used to staying with Bruce Wayne.

Warnings: Descriptions of death

You stood beside Alfred, leaning against the limousine-like car whilst waiting for Bruce to come out of school. You had a black overcoat on that reached to your mid knee, you kept it open so the dress was on show. Students walked past the car and didn’t take a second glance at you and the butler, going by their business and scurrying home just that little bit faster considering the recent news of Arkham Asylum.

Your arms were folded over your chest and you felt slightly more easier when Bruce Wayne walked out of the school entrance, looking around and smiling when his eyes landed on the car.

You kept a sharp eye out for anything funny looking, still on the edge about everything happening within the day so far and trying not to show the fact you were fearing for your life, very much. Alfred gave you a handgun before leaving the manor, you hid it underneath the overcoat you were wearing and kept your hands firmly in your pockets to avoid suspicion.

Bruce approached the car, his gaze was on you and there appeared to be a smile on his face. He greeted Alfred and looked happy rather than suspicious to have someone else there.

“You’re (Y/N), aren’t you?” The younger boy asked with certainty, pointing his finger subtly at you without seeming rude. You nodded your head and got up from leaning against the car.

“Indeed I am, I’m your guest for the next lord knows how many months” You joked, earning a brief chuckle from Bruce who nodded his head and looked up to Alfred. The three of you got in the car quickly, not wasting a moment further being around Gotham High and racing straight for the manor. You sat in the passenger seat whereas Bruce sat behind you and Alfred in the back of the car. He was looking out of the window, it looked as though he was in his own dream world. You and Alfred had a nice chat about dinner, you convinced him that you’d help him and insisted you were a good chef. He seemed pretty hesitant though, it was clear it had been a long time since he’d received help from someone that wasn’t his Master.

You got out of the car and checked your surroundings even though there was a tall gate around the perimeter of Wayne Manor. Alfred and Bruce spoke for a brief moment when all of a sudden your phone buzzed in your pocket, your ringtone bursting to life and nearly scaring you to death. You quickly pulled your phone from the coat pocket and looked up to Alfred once you saw the No Collar ID appear on your screen.

“I’ll catch up with you two in a minute, dads calling” You lied, earning a nod from Alfred who went on to escort Bruce into his home. You noticed Bruce look over his shoulder as you answered the phone, a concerned expression written over his face before the door closed and you were left outside.

“Hello?” You answered, your heels clicking against the concrete slabs as you slowly made your way up the stairs to the entrance door. You sat down on one of the many steps and folded the coat across your body due to the brisk wind.

“Hiya doll, you thought about my offer yet?” Jerome’s voice cackled through the phone, a deep sensation of nauseating pain embedding itself in your stomach as his voice rung in your ears.

“Tried, forgot about it” You tried sounding unbothered but you were so on edge, your voice came out in a soft whisper instead of a sarcastic tone.

“Not good enough doll, you know, you should check the news, you’re missing all the fun!” His voice was deep and full of amusement, it was clear he was trying to toy with you.

“What did you do?” You asked quickly, standing up from the steps and sneaking inside the manor without Alfred hearing. You looked around the hallway and listened into what your red headed psycho had to say before leaning around the arch to the living room where Bruce was watching the TV, his back faced to you as the door was open, giving you a great view of what he was watching.

There was so much going on. 5 bodies dressed in inmate clothes stood on the top of one of Gothams many buildings, throwing bodies off the roof that eventually splat all on the ground, remains of crushed brains and spatters of blood on the ground and some getting on the camera lense. The camera switched to another which was zooming up on the inmates, one which you couldn’t miss.

Jerome laughed as he held the phone up to his face, his laugh echoing in your ear as he watched another body fall to the ground.

“You see doll, if you come to me all of this will stop, or, at least I will, I’m not sure about them,” he pointed with his thumb to the other inmates next to him. “You’re all I want sunshine! Call it an obsession if you will, I’ll find you if I have to!” His voice started mutating into that sickening laugh that made your stomach turn, you dropped your phone and coughed as the last body fell to the ground. You held a hand underneath your mouth as you raced to the downstairs bathroom in the manor and slammed the door open, spewing your stomach up as the images of those innocent men falling flashed in your mind. Would that have happened if you turned yourself in quicker?

Bruce was the first to get to you as he raced to the bathroom to see what was going on, confusion written all over his face but quickly coming to the realisation that you were there.

He acted quick and pulled your hair out of your face to avoid getting anything caught in it, holding it behind you with his hand as the other patted your back. You were surprised a boy this young knew what to do in situations like this, it’s common sense but it still mildly shocked you.

Your thoughts were muted as you held tightly onto the toilet, continuing to cough up the nasty fluids that swirled uncomfortably in your stomach. After everything finally stopped, you leaned back and spat out the remaining taste in your mouth. Bruce watered a cloth and gave it to you to clean your mouth, still holding back your hair as you cleared your throat and apologised.

“I’m sorry about that, I just- the news shocked me” You sighed, holding onto the cloth after finishing cleaning your face and looking up to Bruce who nodded in understanding.

“I understand, it’s horrible what those inmates done” Bruce glared at nothing in particular, his eyes holding such disgust and anger. You carefully wobbled to your feet, Bruce’s arm positioned itself behind your waist, helping you walk out the bathroom after flushing the toilet and calling Albert for some help. The butler was rapid in taking over and telling Bruce to go back to what he was doing. Albert helped you upstairs and made sure you werent going to be sick, trying to reason with you that there was a chance it might happen again even though you stubbornly insisted it was just from the shock. Even so, Albert still left a basin at the side of your bed after he told you to get some rest and left you alone in your room.

You got out of the dress which gladly didn’t have any sick on it, placing it back on the hanger considering there wasn’t a wash basket anywhere and you weren’t allowed out of your room. You took your heels off and got into bed despite having no pyjamas, only in the comfort of your underwear. Albert drew the curtains before he left so it saved you from moving around any more than you needed to. You realised he had brought your phone up and left it on the side of your bed, you weren’t sure when the call with Jerome but you were glad it was over. You could finally get some rest and rejuvenate for the night ahead.

You woke up to the sound of the wind whistling, you weren’t sure what time it was but outside was dark so you assumed it was late at night. It took you 10 minutes to fully wake up and get out of bed. You grabbed a dressing gown on the back of the door and opened it to walk out into the upstairs hallway. Yawning, your bare feet walked down the steps of the manor and you only got midway until a familiar face appeared.

“Dad?” Your voice was sleepy but still full of surprise, your Dad stood at the entrance to the manor with his hands in his coat pockets. His face lit up immediately when he spotted you and walked over to embrace you once you’d made your way fully down the stairs.

Your Dad held you tight, the most tight he had in a long time as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god you’re alright” His voice sounded gruff, tired, as though he’d been working all day and night. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder and closed your eyes, wishing you could be safe in his arms like this forever but you had to unfortunately pull away. Your eyes glistened with tears but you didn’t cry, you were just happy to see that your dad was okay and well.

“Is Leslie okay?” You asked, holding onto your Dads shoulders as if you were trying to keep balance. Jim nodded, silently assuring you whilst trying to remain calm and not freak out at the fact a maniac was after his daughter.

“She’s fine, back at the GCPD, the good thing is that you’re safe” Your Dad cupped the back of your head and pressed a firm kiss against your forehead, bringing you in for another close hug that made you feel comfort like no other. You squeezed your father just for that extra reassurance, just to remind yourself that he was still well and in your arms. Jim was doing the same, he was over the moon you were okay but he still felt like you were in a lot of danger.

“What’s going on with Jerome?” You asked, pulling away and holding your dressing gown close to your body as an unpleasant shiver erupted over your body. Jim frowned, pausing for a moment before resting his hands on hips and letting out a sigh.

“Unfortunately we don’t know his whereabouts, there’s been no lead on where he could be, any more calls from him?” Your dad asked with a stern tone, eyes still as he stared at your face.

You gulped, going unnoticed by Jim as you shook your head.

“Nothing at all” You lied.

Jim nodded slowly, as if he was taking his time as to believe you or not. Thankfully, just in time, Jim’s phone started ringing in his pocket, buzzing violently as he quickly pulled it out of his blazer pocket and excused himself, taking the call which seemed to be important.

You let out a sigh of relief, looking away from Jim and to Alfred who held a suspicious look on his face as his eyes looked at your face, as if he knew you were lying. Bruce smiled as you turned to face him.

“Want anything to drink?” He offered kindly, you nodded and thanked the young boy bluntly before following him to the kitchen where he kindly poured you a glass of cold water.

“What was your Dad talking about back there?” Bruce asked with a strong tone of curiosity, sitting down at the table in the kitchen which was lit with only a few candles. You sat opposite him and let out a short, sharp sigh.

“It’s complicated” You said before sipping at your glass of water, avoiding Bruce’s eyes whilst looking around the kitchen, inspecting the interior.

“I’m sure I can understand” He reasoned with a smile.

You stared warily at Bruce for a few silent seconds, raising a brow at his nosiness but biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything snarky.

“This guy, Jerome, I met him at the circus where we found his mother’s body. He tricked me into thinking he was innocent. Long story short, he got ahold of my phone number and now he’s calling me” You put it in the most simple way possible, avoiding detail as much as you could and begging that Bruce wouldn’t bring anything else up or ask about anything.

“Sounds fun” Bruce joked, making you smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you felt a little bit better at the situation.

“I wish i could say that myself” You sighed, taking another long sip of your glass of water and scratching the back of your scalp to pass the time. Bruce looked at you, as if he was trying to study you but he couldn’t quite get a grip of what you were feeling.

“I’m guessing Jerome’s been calling you by the way you answered Jim’s question” Bruce asked rhetorically, making you roll your eyes slightly before nodding your head and making sure your dad wasn’t around.

“It’s not like I don’t trust Dad, I just don’t want him worrying anymore than he needs to” You put the glass down on the counter before leaning on both of your elbows, hands rubbing your face before eventually clasping in front of you mouth.

“You’re his daughter, I’m sure he’d want to know if anything was wrong” Bruce tried reasoning with you but you waved him off and frowned.

“If it was anyone else but Jerome then it would be easier” You said.

“What do you mean by that” The boy asked, leaning on his elbows as well so the two of you were level and face to face. You sighed once again, biting the tip of your tongue and wishing you didn’t have to open up so much, especially to a 13 year old.

“Because... feelings I guess, they make everything difficult” Your voice faltered for a moment to reply Alf it left Bruce with burning, fiery curiosity.

“I see, are your feelings for each other mutual?” Bruce asked, figuring out exactly what you were getting at in a blink second and earning a surprised, impressed expression from you, only to be quickly replaced once again with the emotionless one.

“Honestly, no clue. I felt attraction towards him at the circus but now... maybe I still do, I don’t know” Was your final reply before hearing footsteps approach the kitchen, revealing Alfred who came out of his hiding space and walked in to greet you and Bruce.

“Pardon for the intrusion but your Dad’s leaving, probably should say goodbye to him” The British butler said with a smile before watching you get out of your seat and thank him graciously, walking rapidly to the main hallway of the manor once again and seeing your Dad. Jim had his hands in his pockets and a soft, manageable smile on his face. You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head resting on his chest as he embraced you tightly, pressing a firm kiss on the top of your head as he stroked your back and sighed.

“If I could I’d stay, but Jerome’s out there and if I don’t do anything you might be in danger” Your dad stared in a determined tone, pulling away from the hug and patting your shoulder reassuringly. You didn’t want the hug to end because you felt safe for the first time in what felt like days, you didn’t want him to go because you felt like Jerome might find out where you are and find a way to sneak in and kidnap you, or worse, murder you.

“Stay safe, okay?” It wasn’t a question and Jim knew that as you said it, nodding his head firmly and managing a small smile before walking away and approaching the door.

“I love you Dad” You called out just as he opened the door.

“I love you too, Angel” Jim looked happy, relieved to hear such a thing before bidding farewell to Alfred and Bruce and eventually closing the door, leaving you alone once more.

You stared at the no caller ID name tag in your contacts whilst chewing nervously on your lip, your legs hurled up to your chest as you hovered your finger above the name tag, contemplating whether or not you should press on it.

Jerome had been plagueing your mind ever since the last phone call, his offer to you was starting to sink in and you started to realise how much this would benefit other people from getting hurt, including Leslie and Jim. But you weren’t going to give yourself away, it wasn’t going to be that easy. Jerome was a crazy, ballistic psychopath who could kill you in the blink of an eye but for some reason you weren’t scared. You were intrigued, intrigued by a coold blooded murderer, and you didn’t even blink an eye at that.

You had been stuffed up in your guest room at the Wayne Manor and refused to leave, you were itching to call Jerome but you kept stopping yourself from doing so. So much was going on in your mind, your feelings were peeking and you felt like you were going to vomit.

You confronted yourself at the fact you definitely had feelings for Jerome, love of some sort? Maybe, but definitely attraction. And you hated yourself for it, you felt like you were betraying your dad and everyone in your life by falling in love with someone who killed for sport. You could have fallen in love with a boy at school, had a friend set you up on a date with a normal boy, but no. You had to fall for the psycho. Ironic wasn’t even the word.

Sucking in a breath, you finally pressed the tip of your finger on the no caller ID and waited anxiously in the dark, candle lit room. It rung for over ten seconds and eventually he finally picked up, causing your nerves to sky rocket.

“Jerome?” You mumbled, voice barely audible as you started chewing on your nails, waiting for his reply.

“Well this is certainly a surprise; a welcome one of course” Jerome’s voice caught you off guard as he spoke loud and clear through the speaker of your phone. You quickly turned down the volume to prevent anyone outside of your room from hearing, your heart practically in your throat. This was wrong.

“I’ve been thinking about your offer” You said, voice trembling slightly with each word that left your mouth.

“Good, that’s more like it doll! So tell me, have you made up your mind yet? Or am I going to have to wait longer?” Jerome’s voice slid down into a teeth grinding tone which you didn’t react well to, body shaking feverishly as you inhaled through your nose to calm your breathing down.

“I can’t give you a solid answer just yet, this whole situations so sudden... I just- I’m overwhelmed” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you lay down beside your phone and listened in closely as you heard Jerome take a sharp inhale before humming to himself in disapproval.

“You take too long doll, I know you want to be with me” Jerome teased in a coy, mischievous tone. You clenched your jaw at his response and didn’t reply right away which you immediately regretted as Jerome started laughing to himself.

“It’s unhealthy to avoid your feelings you know, don’t deny it gorgeous” He continued. You gripped the covers of your bed and clenched then tightly, trying to distract yourself from the amount of shivers running across your body.

“You know what- yes, I do, but my issue is you’re a murderer and being with you would put me in serious trouble-“

“So you admit it?” Jerome cut you off with a boyish giggle.

“Yes! there, are you happy now?” You asked in a pathetic tone of voice, trying to sound tough when really you were trying not to burst into tears.

“I am actually, how does it feel knowing daddy’s out there on the hunt for me and you’re in bed, phoning me to express your feelings towards me? Tut tut, bad girl” Jerome smirked, his voice lowered as he spoke the last few words. You didn’t know how to respond, he was right. You hated admitting that. Your Dad was spending so much valuable time trying to find Jerome whilst you were creating a romance with him, it was a dangerous game you were playing.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jerome” You hissed, hiding you and your phone under your covers as you continued to stare at the low light screen with No Caller ID written in basic white letters.

“Flatter myself? I hardly consider flattering myself as hearing the girl I’ve been thinking about for weeks telling me she has feelings for me” Jerome’s playful tone faded away once again into a more serious one, you couldn’t keep up with his mood changes and it made you confused as to what he was really feeling.

You tried to think of a reply, your mind scattering with different approaches of all types of tones and attitudes. You didn’t have the energy to be angry or snappy at him, not after he learned how you really felt towards him. You had nothing to defend yourself with anymore; the evidence was on the table.

“I want to see you” You said, you started to immediately contemplate whether or not you should’ve said that in case you sparked something inside of Jerome.

“Really now? Say the word and I’ll be there gorgeous” He replied smoothly, his tone tormenting but the amusement was cloaked with interest. You had his attention fully now.

“North wing of the docks, midnight tomorrow, and come alone” You chewed your cheek anxiously as you waited for his reply, lifting your knees up to your chest and holding them close as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I’ll be there, I promise” Jerome’s tone lightened at the end as though he were talking to a baby, it irked you but you held your tongue from saying anything that gave him an advantage to torment you any further.

“Good... I can’t believe I’m doing this” You said to mostly yourself as you pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a frustrated sigh which earned you a coy giggle from the handsome psychotic red head.

“You’re doing it because you want to, gorgeous, you can’t resist me” Jerome smirked, his voice getting under your skin, you shuddered as a result and you found yourself unable to stop the thoughts of something happening tomorrow night that you might regret. What if this was your last day alive? You could never know, maybe Jerome wasn’t blood thirsty for you, perhaps is was just an obsession you could hopefully control.

“By the sounds of it you can’t resist me either” You replied, causing Jerome to make a small playful gasp.

“Flirting back are we? I like where this is going” Jerome’s voice kept changing, you were unable to keep up with it but the tone he had on now made you bite your lip. He sounded so seductive, it tempted you and you couldn’t help but let yourself accept the fact that you truly wanted Jerome. He was everywhere you went, he was your every thought at this point, what was the point in denying how you felt?

“I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation later, don’t miss me too much” You allowed yourself to giggle, hanging up before Jerome had to say anything else and collapsing onto your bed, your eyes staring up at the ceiling that felt like it was caving in on you. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

#x reader #jerome x reader #jerome velaska #gotham #dc comcis #dc universe #jerome valeska x reader #gotham x reader

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pips-fics · 3 years

Text

ask: can i request minho getting sick, making him super clingy to jeongin and needy to any members

for almost three years, jeongin has had a human shadow almost constantly. it’s shape was inconsistent, but most often took the form of seungmin or hyunjin. he’d like to say that he’d grown used to having various members trail him around, and sometimes it was the truth, but other times… it was just suffocating.

the fact that minho had been following him since he’d twisted his ankle earlier in the day didn’t sit well. jeongin was an adult, and had been for quite some time; not to mention, he wasn’t that much younger than the others to begin with. knowing their concern always stemmed from love wasn’t a fully effective salve to his stung pride.

“hyung, just sit there–“ jeongin pointed to the empty space, “this couch is big enough for both of us, you don’t need to sit on top of me,” jeongin complained. he wasn’t lying. the couch was probably big enough for three or even four people, but minho insisted on sprawling over jeongin’s chest even though they were the only two occupying it at the moment. jeongin wriggled around, hoping minho would get off of his own volition before jeongin had to forcibly remove him.

“don’t wanna,” minho protested smugly, “you’re much more comfortable.”

jeongin tried to be understanding. he tried to be accommodating, sympathetic to the genuine concern. he liked to think that he was relatively indulgent with his members, who he loved— but sometimes, it really did get to be too much. jeongin did what he could to rein his temper back in and find his patience, but he needed some space.

with a gentle shove (but a shove nonetheless), he pushed minho off of him and onto the empty part of the couch. jeongin stood up.

“i’ll see you in a bit to record some of the chorus parts. go find jisung or felix, hyung, they won’t mind cuddling.”

minho whined, sniffling. “how cruel, yang jeongin! i’m sick and you won’t even let me cuddle you.”

ah, that would explain minho’s sudden clinginess. jeongin flinched away. “you might be contagious, hyung, i don’t wanna get sick, too. drink some water or something - chan-hyung probably has medicine you could take.” jeongin looked at minho a little more closely, but other than a sniffle and a slight rasp to his voice, he didn’t seem to be doing too poorly. “you’ll feel better soon,” he said, and then he left.

he felt a little bad, walking to the cafe on his own, but mostly he felt relieved. the ambient noise, which didn’t require any sort of response from jeongin, was comforting. after ordering a drink, he dropped into a chair, and was grateful for the hard plastic against his back. it was grounding, a cool contrast to the stifling warmth of another human’s touch.

jeongin was savoring it all when, not more than 5 minutes after he’d sat down with his drink, warm arms wrapped around his chest, quickly followed by a weight on his shoulders. he nearly choked on the urge to groan - and his drink - and elbowed the offender in the gut on instinct before spinning around.

minho was doubled over, wincing. jeongin’s eyes widened - he certainly hadn’t meant to hurt him! he hadn’t thought he’d used enough force for that.

“hyung, are you— i didn’t mean to,” jeongin’s mouth was moving too quick for his brain. he’d stood up and now hovered at minho’s side, unsure how to help. minho waved him off.

“i’m–” he coughed. “i’m fine. just wasn’t expecting it. i shouldn’t have,” minho took a labored breath, “shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

minho looked very distinctly not fine - but jeongin of all people wasn’t about to call him out on it. after all, he knew best how double-edged that kind of concern could be. jeongin nodded.

“still,” he said. “i am sorry.”

at that, minho cracked a grin. it looked kind of like a grimace, but jeongin figured that was more an effect of the lingering pain than intent. “no, no, you were right,” minho said, and there was something in his voice that jeongin didn’t like. “i’ll go find someone else to bother.”

jeongin frowned. it was what he’d wanted, after all. but something didn’t sit quite right. the sincerity - it was rare for minho to sound so honest, especially about the vulnerable pieces of himself. especially about things like shame, and regret, and hurt.

then again, if minho was going to find another member, it would be fine. jeongin was fairly confident that most of the others were just as capable at handling whatever mood minho was in - and most of them were probably more suited to that task, even. he spared a thought to hope that minho would find chan and let the matter slip from his mind.

it wasn’t until they were setting up to record the chorus parts of the title track that jeongin really thought about minho and his weirdness again. it wasn’t minho’s presence that reminded him, but his absence. chan was already looking for him by the time jeongin showed up.

“the last time i saw him was a few hours ago,” jeongin said. “at the cafe.”

chan checked the clock, and even though they had five full minutes before they were scheduled, his frowned deepened. “he’s usually the first one here, after me.”

that was true. jeongin looked around and saw that all of the other members were already present, and something like guilt sank heavy in his gut. “has anyone else seen him?”

chan grimaced. “felix did, but it’s been some time since then. he said minho was acting a little strange, but that’s kind of…” chan trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for jeongin to hear it. that’s kind of normal.

the truth was, of all the members, minho was still a bit of a mystery. they’d all grown up together, so of course they knew bits and pieces of him inside and out, but the rest of the members wore their heart and soul flayed open at all times. jeongin could probably describe felix’s character better than felix himself could. even seungmin, who had seemed on the reserved side for the first few months, had grown into regular displays of openness.

minho was different. he guarded his heart like one would a fugitive on the run - by pretending it didn’t exist.

“i’ll go look for him, hyung, don’t worry!” jeongin said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he was promising. and yet, he didn’t care to take them back. chan blinked, hesitated, and jeongin knew it was that troublesome, unwarranted concern again. it struck him that, in a list of members with their shutters closed, jeongin himself probably ranked second. he softened slightly. “i’ll have my phone with me,” he said. “if you want me back, just call me.”

with a wry smile, chan nodded. “send me a text if it takes more than 15 minutes?”

jeongin nodded, and and then he was off.

it was an aimless search. he really had no idea where minho was - he hoped he was in the building, at least, but for all anyone knew minho could have gone back to the dorm, or literally anywhere else. he really was an enigma.

jeongin’s phone rang and he checked the time. it had only been 10 minutes. his heart lept at the thought of good news, that maybe he was overly worried for nothing. “did you find him?” jeongin asked immediately. chan sighed.

“no, but he texted and said he’s fine.” chan went quiet. jeongin chewed his lip.

“do you think he is?” jeongin asked. he already knew the answer. he could picture chan’s frown - the one where he was worried, but trying to be reassuring to anyone who looked.

“i guess we just have to trust him.”

trust. the word lodged itself and rattled around in jeongin’s mind even after he hung up and started making his way - slowly - back to the rest of his members.

as closed off as minho was, jeongin trusted him. all of them did, he knew. jeongin trusted all of his members, completely, but minho especially. for all of his guarded emotions, minho would never allow harm to come to those he cared about, and everyone knew it - except maybe minho himself, who didn’t like to acknowledge that he cared at all in the first place.

the thought that minho didn’t trust them back made jeongin feel clammy. it drove him to take the longest way back he could think of, and it made him backtrack immediately when he heard the quietest gasp coming from the direction of the bathrooms.

he found minho in an open stall, seated firmly on the ground, his upper body wilted over the toilet seat. vomit stained the corners of his mouth. tears ran down his cheeks. he didn’t notice jeongin immediately, which gave the younger boy a much appreciated moment to steady himself, to acknowledge and accept and acclimate to the sharp ache the gripped his heart.

“oh, hyung, you’re really sick.” the words came out like tears, seeping. minho startled, and scrambled to the side of the stall that was furthest from jeongin.

“jeongin.” fear flashed across minho’s face, like jeongin hadn’t seen on his face outside of their survival show and experiencing high altitudes. jeongin stepped back, hating to be the cause of it, when minho spoke again, sounding choked. “you were right, it might be contagious. you should go.”

jeongin shook his head so hard it hurt. “no, i didn’t mean– hyung, here, let me help. please.” he approached slowly, wrapping his arms around minho’s shaking back. minho sucked in a breath, and then released it, relaxing into jeongin’s embrace. then he tensed up and lurched over the toilet with an unproductive heave. jeongin shifted to rub the sick boy’s back.

minho groaned. “you should leave,” he said. “i’m gross right now.”

“no,” jeongin said, as gently, as firmly as possible, addressing both statements at once. “i’ll stay, hyung.”

minho didn’t have a chance to protest before he was being sick. he was shaking so badly that jeongin worried he’d slip to the ground if he stopped supporting him. he brushed a hand through minho’s hair.

“it’s okay,” jeongin said, and he wasn’t really sure why.

minho gasped and another stream of puke splashed into the dirtied water below him, unrelenting. his whole body was tense below jeongin’s hands, so much so that it made jeongin’s own muscles ache. suddenly, in the dim lighting of the bathroom, face covered in barf, minho looked very small, and fragile. like he might shake himself apart. jeongin’s grip on his shoulder tightened as another heave wracked minho’s body.

jeongin’s phone ringing startled both of them. minho looked up during a brief reprieve. “you can answer it,” he said, his words torn apart and raw. jeongin shook his head.

“it’s just chan-hyung. i’ll text him.”

minho didn’t respond to that, jaw clenched very tightly shut. jeongin gave him a stern look. “you should let it out, hyung, you’ll feel better sooner that way. then we can go home.”

it was unclear whether minho took the advice to heart, or if his body simply overcame his willpower - both options seemed unlikely - but soon he was throwing up once again. he didn’t have a breather for so long that jeongin started worrying at the choked sounds. he was about to send a text asking chan if someone could drown this way when it finally tapered off to dry heaves and small dribbles of bile.

minho looked like a soft breeze could break him.

his eyes were sinking shut and his skin was washed out. he’d given up holding himself up and slumped heavily onto jeongin. jeongin wiped sweat and sick from his face with toilet paper, and then flushed the mess away.

“are you done?” jeongin asked quietly, with half a mind to just let minho sleep. the sick boy nodded. jeongin hummed. “we should go home.”

minho nodded, but didn’t move. “c’mon, hyung, it’ll be better for you to sleep in a bed.”

jeongin started to stand, but minho grabbed his sleeve with a strength jeongin wouldn’t have expected him to have at this point. “hyung?”

“don’t leave.” minho’s voice was so, so small. jeongin smiled.

“i won’t. we’ll go together, okay?”

sure enough, minho refused to let go of jeongin’s arm as they walked. chan had texted that they’d cancelled recording for the day, so the other members were waiting in the car already. even as the rest of them fussed over minho, jeongin stuck close. his arm was finally freed when minho fell asleep upon returning to the dorm, but jeongin stayed nearby anyway, even when the other members tried convincing him that minho would be fine if he left.

that was the thing: minho would be fine. jeongin knew that minho was strong. they all did. but something protective had started growing in him since he first saw minho in the bathroom - before that, maybe, too. something protective and urgent, a need that had to be fulfilled.

jeongin trusted minho fully. he needed to know that minho trusted him, too, and he thought this was as good way to start working towards that.

——

feel free to send more asks! | rules

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

An Officer’s Loyalty (Part 3)

Pairing: Medic X Reader

Words: 1408

Warnings:

- Swearing

- Some Gore and Body Horror

- Surgical/Medical Situations

- Some Slight Nudity (Half Nudity)

Enjoy!

The cool of the underground seeped through your uniform, even past the extra layer that was Medic’s coat. Probably the most high-tech part of the building, the basement level was a labyrinth of concrete, a dull grey with only a singular, painted red line that ran continuously across the walls on either side. It was quiet for the most part, save for the occasional groan of pipes and the flicker of the lights.

You had passed by many doors, but hadn’t been allowed to take in your surroundings properly. You had all but lost track of where to go when you passed the sad excuse for a kitchen. Your ‘escorts’, Heavy and Medic, had kept a quick pace as they led you into the depths of your new home. The belly of the beast, if you will.

Before you had left the billiard room and your interrogation behind, Medic had insisted that he take you to have your surgery completed first.

‘Vouldn’t vant to forget und zhen haff jou’re heart explode on zhe battlefield!’

It had been the first time you had heard him speak in his usual, manic glee since he had first found you and Spy in the mine shaft. It had been unnerving, but you didn’t feel like it was safe to, so quickly, go back on your agreement.

When he had started guiding you out of the room, Heavy had been quick to follow. You had never seen the two apart for long; perhaps because they had a history before their careers at Mann Co. or when they would have had to learn English for the job. Considering how often Medic’s tongue dipped back into his maiden language, you suspected he hadn’t spoken much English before his work at Mann Co.

Heavy hadn’t said much at all since you arrived, but he seemed less agitated by your presence. You still noticed how his eyes would occasionally glance at you if you trailed behind, but he didn’t do much more than slow his pace ever so slightly.

Finally, after too long trying to follow Medic’s quick footsteps, you came to two large doors, with a painted red cross upon them. Medic pushed them open easily and gestured for you to enter. You hesitated, on account that you had been expecting the medical bay.

Not a bloody slaughterhouse.

The medical bay still had some utensils here and there; a bonesaw or three, pliers, syringes, and a surgery table with a different kind of medigun attached to the roof, hanging down like some James Bond torture device. The drawers were in a disarray, buckets of blood, bones and feathers dotted the linoleum floor, and an open bird cage filled with pigeons and the occasional bird shit made you feel sick to your stomach. The remnants of the medical bay, surely, were not where you would be having this surgery?!

Heavy nudged you inside, and Medic moved about the surgery table, going to wash his hands in a bloodied steel sink. Heavy offered you an almost apologetic smile, as he took to sitting by the door and crossing his arms.

‘Bitte, haff a seat.’ The German rolled his head to one side, to gesture to the operating table. You let out a scoff.

‘You’re kidding.’

Medic turned to look at you, almost confused by your unwillingness to sit or lay down upon the surgery table. You looked back over the steel table, eyes landing on leather straps at about where ones ankles, wrists and neck might be. You cocked a brow, gesturing to the straps.

‘And, what surgery might need those? Or did you run out of anaesthesia?’

‘Oh, zhose!’ He almost laughed, the smile returning full force to his face. ‘Das is nozhing! Scout vas just moving around too much during his surgery, so I had zhem installed. Ve don’t haff to use zhem if you don’t vant to.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question about the anaesthesia.’

‘Ve don’t use it.’

What?

‘I said it before, and I’ll fucking say it again; ‘you’re kidding me?!” You stepped back, closer to the door, your legs shaking. Heavy had stood, but he didn’t seem threatening. He just seemed encouraging. You shook your head. ‘Like Hell I am going to let you cut me open like that! I’d rather be killed!’

‘Doktor does not use anaesthesia because it is not common.’

‘Excuse me?’ You turned on Heavy, giving him the most furious glare in your arsenal. Too bad that due to your lack of stature, it was nothing intimidating. You would have liked to see the big man show a hint of something other than indifference or great ferocity.

‘Vas Herr Heavy means, is das I do not often haff access to anaesthesia.’ You turned your furious glare back on the German, and much like Heavy, he didn’t even blink. ‘Razher zhan using it for all surgeries, I haff zhe medigun dull zhe pain instead, und save zhe anaesthesia for vorse injuries.’

‘How are your employers this…’ You dare not finish your sentence. The administrator had cameras everywhere, and you did not doubt that she, or rather Miss Pauling, would find a way to sneak a camera or bug into your opponent’s base.

‘And… you expect me to let you cut me open in this…’ You gestured about. ‘… In this mess?’

‘Vell, I haff never been too picky, und after zhe first surgery, I haff had few complaints. No one has gotten sick because of it.’ He assured. ‘If it vill make jou feel better zhough, I can keep zhe gloves on.’

You held back a retch. Your chest had tightened and you felt your lungs compress, as if trying to expel all oxygen. You felt some form of small relief when there was the snap of red rubber gloves, and Medic gestured once more to the table. You looked between Heavy, the way out and the crazed doctor, contemplating your options.

‘Do I need a surgical gown?’ The Medic laughed, a great guffaw of something almost sinister. You didn’t join him.

‘Nein! Of course not!’

You stepped hesitantly towards the surgical table and took a seat on the cold steel. You were shaking, goose bumps shuddering their way up and down your skin. You removed Medic’s coat and then, having thought about it, removed your own. The medical bay was even colder than the halls, and you brought your arms around you in a sorry attempt to trap as much heat as you could.

As Medic approached, you laid down, gripping onto the edges of the table. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use the straps. Looking up at him, you could swear you had been thrown through time and space and ended up in a Twilight Zone episode. Some creepy, fucked up, science fiction-horror show, where you were the helpless victim. You hated it.

He reached up, first switching on the red, translucent beam of the medigun that hung above your head. The scarlet, smoke-like tail sunk low and into your chest; you could feel a warmth behind your ribs and a numbness run all across your body. Your fear still gripped as tightly to you as you did the steel table when Medic pulled out the saw.

He didn’t wait for you to shakily undo the buttons of your shirt, or remove the bandages underneath. He placed the bonesaw down and replaced it instead with surgical scissors, cutting the cloth open with a few quick snips. Despite the warmth of the beam, the cool of the room was enough to tense your body for the first blow.

The medigun’s powerful, relaxing beam did little to make the initial incision any kinder. You watched in terror and pain, eyes already filling with tears, as the saw split your skin straight down, from collar to naval. You tried not to scream, but you couldn’t hold back your cries when you witnessed the doctor holding your own heart in his hand.

Your head was spinning and your vision becoming dotted with black smudges. You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and a wet glove against your cheek before your brain overheated from the pain and stress.

You would have considered it embarrassing that you had fainted and your old team would never have let you live it down. You didn’t feel shame though when your world went dark, however.

Instead, it was anger boiling in your blood.

~~X~~

I just wanted to thank a couple of readers of this little series for their words and just wanted to say how thankful I am that they have been enjoying it!

One reader helped to motivate my interest in continuing the story when I was suffering major writer’s block, after they messaged me asking if there was more to come. I had no idea that anyone really read my Tumblr stories anymore, so I wasn’t expecting to continue, so I really appreciate the little boost.

And then the other was one reader who, after they reblogged the post, gave me a good laugh and reminded me how much I love this series, the Medic and this fandom simply by adding some amazing tags to the end! This was a little while ago, but I only just realised, and I loved it!

Thank you though, to anyone who takes the time to read my works. I truly appreciate it, and I am glad you have been enjoying yourselves reading them!

#fanfiction #fanfic #TF2 #Team Fortress 2 #Medic #Heavy #Medic X Reader #Canon X Reader #HarcourtHolmesII

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anarcoqueer1994 · 3 years

Text

You Are My Sunshine

A little Shrinkyclinks fic I am working on. Not beta read so ope.

Steve had retired a few months back, giving Sam the shield. His life had been quiet enough since then, getting a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with Bucky when Bucky returned from the blip. Bucky, though,would still go out on missions with Sam and did some freelance work for the government. Steve would never admit that though his friend was more than capable, he would still get nervous when he was away for days at a time, worried that he would lose his friend for a third time. But overall, it was going fine. That is until one day when one of Bucky's jobs followed him home.

An unfortunate result of the recent Flag Smashers attacks, some anti-super soldier terrorist groups rose-up out of fear. Some wealthy elites, both part of world governments and independent ,backed these groups in secret, supplying tech and money, as they see super soldiers as a threat to their power. They weaponized these people’s fear. These groups were ruthless in their pursuits, ordered to not care who they hurt, as long as they eliminated super soldiers.

Bucky and Sam had faced one of these groups recently, when they attempted to come after and kill Bucky while they were out on an intelligence mission. The two men thought that they had taken care of the group after a long, drawn-out battle, rounding them up to deal with the consequences. What they hadn't had counted on was a second team following Bucky back to Brooklyn, after he and Sam went their separate ways. He had done well to keep he and Steve’s location a secret, but got careless this time, letting his guard down.

So now these militants were in New York in front of their apartment building, threatening to hurt other people, to get to Steve and Bucky. Of course the men don’t back down, not waiting for backup to arrive. The fight had been tense, Bucky and Steve vs 10 well-armed men, but nothing they couldn't handle. So they managed to subdue them. But as a last-ditch effort, one shot something right towards Bucky who had been occupied with another one of the men. It appeared like a red laser beam, almost something out of a sci-fi film. Steve noticed it coming, and not having the time to warn Bucky, jumps in front of his friend, taking the hit. He goes down hard to the ground, unconscious instantly. "Steve!" Bucky yells out, heart sinking. When his friend doesn’t move, he is urged back into action, protecting his now defenseless friend. It takes everything in him not to revert to killing, like the Winter Soldier, but the man who shot Steve was definitely in bad shape by the time backup,government agents, arrived. They round the would be terrorist up and get them hauled away.

As the men are being taken away, Bucky runs towards Steve who is unresponsive on the ground but still breathing. He yells for an ambulance. He scoops Steve up in his arms, and against his chest, kneeling on the ground, whispering "Come on, Stevie…" he feels like this is all his fault. He was the one who brought them there, he was the one the gun was aiming for, and now the love of his life, however unrequited that may be, is lying unconscious on the ground, and god only knows what that laser did. He feels a tear well up in his eye, forcing himself not to shed it. This is not the time to break down. But he is terrified. He hasn’t seen Steve completely unresponsive in years, not since they were kids and he would get into fights and get knocked unconscious. Bucky, then too, would often lose his mind, beating up anyone who had touched his Stevie, whether Steve knew it or not.

But before the ambulance arrives, Steve is opening his eyes again, smiling at Bucky. “Hey Buck.” He sounds completely fine.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, it looks like whatever the laser was intended to do didn’t work on him. “How ya' feeling, pal?” Bucky smiles back.

“Great, just a little tired, but I don’t feel any different otherwise.” Suddenly, Steve becomes aware of Bucky’s arms still wrapped around him, pulling him close to his chest. He blushes as he clears his throat. “You planning on squeezing me to death, bud?”

Now Bucky is going red, trying to laugh it off as he lets go. “I thought you were dying, punk.”

Steve just laughs back, sitting up right as the ambulance arrives. They bring him to the truck and check him out, giving him a clean bill of health. So, Steve and Bucky return to the apartment. Both showering and then Steve opting to go lay down. Seriously injured or not, being knocked unconscious took a lot out of him.

Bucky sat in their living room, trying his best to block out the events of today. For those few minutes, when he thought he could lose Steve, he had felt like everything around him was going to crash down, burying him in a pit of loneliness and sadness that he knew he wouldn't be able to escape. The thought of losing Steve again made him sick to his stomach. Steve was his everything, even when they were kids in Brooklyn, when sickness would ravage the blonde’s body and he would spend days at the Rogers’ home, sitting near his bedside, or sliding into bed to pull him close to keep him warm. Worried that he could lose his Stevie at any moment. Terrified at the thought. And seeing Steve unconscious today, brought all those feelings back. It was worse than seeing him roughed up in battle, because at least those times he had been conscious. But this time was different. He doesn’t know what he would do without his favorite person in the whole world, the one person who understands him. The person he would do anything for, be anything for, just to make him happy. But Steve was fine, he reminded himself.

So, he tries to shake away those feelings, sending mindless texts to Sam, who had messaged him as soon as he heard what happened. Bucky filled him in, told him Steve was alright. Then deciding to read, he picked up where he left off on The Lord of the Rings. He has to say, he loves these books, always liking The Hobbit, so being ecstatic to find out that the author had written more later. One good thing about waking up in the future. This did the trick, immersing himself into the story, melting away any lingering thoughts of today.

That is until a couple hours pass, and he hears rough coughing from Steve’s bedroom. This catches him off guard. Steve (and himself), don’t really get sick thanks to the fantastic immune system afforded to super soldiers.

He gets up and makes his way to Steve’s bedroom, knocking as he hears the continued coughing fit, punctuated by wheezing. When Steve doesn’t answer, Bucky just opens the door, too worried to care about etiquette. When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks. There, sitting up coughing, is Steve. But Steve is different then when he went to lay down, He is much shorter, lacking any muscle mass, skinny, drowning in the navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants he went to sleep in. He looks like he did before the serum, give, or take a few years due to the time he has spent outside of the ice.

Bucky steps closer “Stevie?” He is shocked and worried again.

When Steve finally catches his breath, he looks down at his own hands instead of meeting Bucky’s stare, mortified by his sudden appearance change. The other man stepped closer to the bed. “Steve, I think the ray wasn’t so harmless.” He tries to say plainly, not showing the worry in his voice. For as much as he had been angry at Steve back in the day for letting the military experiment on him, he was ultimately grateful that the serum had helped his body fight back diseases that had tormented him his entire life.

Steve’s bright blue eyes, which always stood out more against his paler, sicklier skin, shoot up and meet Bucky’s and he snaps “You think?” His harsh tone caused Bucky to recoil slightly. Steve, seeing this, quickly apologizes, feeling guilty. “Sorry, Buck…” Bucky nods and steps forward again, taking a seat on the edge of Steve’s bed. "Don't worry about it, it was a dumb thing to say. "Bucky blushes slightly, cursing himself for being such an idiot sometimes.

Steve sighs, not towards Bucky but in general, towards the room.“I’m just frustrated. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was this…and then it got hard to breathe and for the first time in years it felt like I was having an asthma attack. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Something switches in Bucky’s head when Steve calls himself pathetic, something more protective like how he used to feel when they were much younger. He reaches over like it is nothing, placing his hand on Steve’s bony knee. “I’m going to tell you like I did back then. Nothing about you is pathetic. You can’t help what your body does. And you…you jumped in front of a gun to protect me. I wouldn’t call that pathetic. I’d call that being a hero.”

Steve cracks a small smile. “Whatever you say…” He does not believe him but knows Bucky won’t back down on this, he never has. He lets out a shiver. The apartment is freezing. It is February but they keep the heat low since both men had such a high tolerance to cold. Bucky notices his friend shivering. “Oh shoot, I sorry Stevie. Let me get the heat and then…I’m going to call down to the Avenger’s Tower.” Pepper has been keeping it going and he knows she will know who can help them.

Steve nods, hating feeling so useless, but knowing Bucky is there to help. That he can rely on Bucky not to make him feel worse, just be there to support and help him. He used to hate the way Bucky would always step in. He used to think it was because Bucky thought he was weak. But in reality, its because Bucky is the best friend a guy could ask for.

Bucky turns the heat up before making the call. It’s pretty late at this point, so Pepper tells them to come down tomorrow and they will take a look at him. Bruce can be there in the morning to help. Bucky hates that, hates that he has to wait. He is worried about Steve and wants answers now. But he knows she is right. They should just rest, but first thing in the morning Bucky will be down there with Steve.

He makes his way back to Steve’s bedroom not bothering to knock on the half-opened door, wishing he did though. Steve was facing away from him, but he was naked, ass in full view of Bucky. Even when he was small and skinny, Bucky thought he had a fantastic ass, not that anyone would have been able to tell back in the day, Steve always wore clothes too big for him. Bucky blushes as he tries to get out without Steve noticing him, but he is distracted, clumsily bumping into the door framing, causing a loud bang. Steve, turns around, suddenly covering up with the shirt that is in his hand and turning red.

Bucky stumbles through an apology. “I am so sorry…sorry…I…uh...” before just running out of the room like an embarrassed school girl.

Smooth Barnes. He thinks to himself as he slumps down on the couch. He doesn’t know why he got so flustered, it's not like he hasn’t seen Steve naked before, changing around each other all the time as kids. Well, until his dad said they were too old to be getting dressed around each other. That was also the same time his dad had told him that they were too old to be “hugging like that”, too old to be holding hands, “Boys your age don’t need to be that affectionate with their friends'' and “Do you want folks to think you are a pansy?” Bucky closes his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to rid his mind of that memory. He thanks god that his dad never found out how he really felt for his best friend. Not that Steve felt that back, so nothing happened but still. Steve was just a good guy. He sits and tries not to drown in his thoughts.

Steve can’t believe Bucky just walked in on him like this. He feels so unattractive, so weak, and sickly. His mom had told him once that he was just a "late bloomer, but he was still a very handsome person that any girl would be "lucky to have", a sentiment that Bucky would back her up on. He never believed them, and without the serum he would have never "bloomed." To be fair, he also didn’t want "any girl". He just wanted Bucky. And he knows Bucky is not checking him out, why would he be? But if Bucky were to see him naked, he would have preferred it would have been in his serum enhanced body, strong and not so fragile.

He sighs to himself and goes back to what he was doing, looking for something, anything he could wear without it practically falling off him. It's hopeless, so he settles on a pair of boxers that happened to be too small prior to today, now having to roll the waistband to get them to stay up. As far as clothing though, he doesn’t even have a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight enough to prevent from falling off. He frowns to himself, knowing Bucky was a little smaller than him, not quite having the same muscle mass. Maybe he has at least a shirt he could wear and a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight. Bucky does have some pretty tight shirts he wears when he is working out. Steve begins automatically blushing, picturing the way they cling to his muscular chest after working out, before shaking his head back to the current moment.

Given the embarrassing situation that just occurred, he is a little apprehensive about asking. But he knows he has to, already feeling terribly cold in just these oversized boxers. He calls timidly from his room. "Buck?"

His voice snaps Bucky out of his thoughts, instinctively jumping to his feet to see what Steve needs. Walking in this time, he is met with Steve staring at the floor, obviously embarrassed, clad only in some comically large boxers and socks. He feels bad for his friend, who is clearly struggling with this. He tries to stay calm, not letting it show that he thinks Steve looks absolutely adorable...and fucking hot.

Honestly though, Bucky has thought Steve has looked hot, both when he was skinny and when he was muscular, but he has always had a soft spot for his pre-serum appearance, loving how perfectly Steve fit under his arm when he used to pull him close "to keep him warm." He is also very careful about not staring down at the boxers, knowing from accidental glimpses when they lived together in the tiny one bedroom tenement, that even before the serum, Steve was packing a lot more than you would think by looking at him. Bucky had spent countless nights picturing what it would feel like if it was inside of him, ultimately just hurting himself more with fantasies that would never come true.

Realizing quickly that he had been standing there awkwardly in silence, Bucky speaks up. "Um, what did you need pal?"

Steve refuses to look at him, Bucky understanding that this is definitely pretty hard for him. The blonde shyly asks "Um...all my clothes are too big. And um...I know you wear a slightly smaller size. Do you have anything that is tight on you that I could wear?"

Bucky lets out a small huff from his nose, smiling as he says, "Sure thing, give me one moment." Without another word, Bucky turns around and walks out of the room towards his own.

His thoughts have been in a constant struggle with themselves since this happened. He is worried beyond belief for Steve, and what this all means to him. Will he get sick again? Can he be changed back? Should he be changed back? Is it safe? But then a part of himself, a part that he hates, is so turned on by Steve right now, having not seen him like this in years. He is having feelings he has no right to have. He is always attracted to Steve (inside and out), it's always there, and punctuating all their interactions, even if Steve couldn't see it. He was head over heels for the man. But he hates that right now while Steve is in such emotional distress, that he had the nerve to still let his head wander into fantasies. He is appalled by himself and his fucked-up head.

As he reminds himself of his continued shortcomings, he grabs his tightest pair of pants, a pair of compression running leggings, the ones he usually wears underneath some of his other pants. He hopes the stretchiness of them means they are small enough to fit on Steve. He grabs a t-shirt he recently got that is too tight on him, never wearing it but buying it at a yard sale because he had to have it. It's a little embarrassing though, pretty sure Steve has not even seen it before. It was a Captain America shirt from the 80s with a fade shield across the front of it. Bucky had tried it on once, though it was too small for him to even justify it as a workout top.

He anxiously walks back to Steve’s room, trying to make up a lie about the shirt other than "I like it because it makes me think of you and sometimes I take it with me on missions so I can pretend you are with me." Luckily when he hands Steve the clothes, Steve only raises his brow for a second, before smiling and nodding in gratitude for the clothes. Bucky sees himself out Steve could get dressed.

After a little bit, Steve joins him out into the living room. Bucky has to hide a smile when he sees Steve in his clothes. The shirt is still too big for Steve and he can tell the pants must be pulled up high above his waist. Steve chooses not to acknowledge it, opting instead to sit down on the couch next to Bucky.

Steve doesn’t want things to be weird. Today has been weird enough, and the last thing he wants right now is his best friend being freaked out around him too. Steve, in the most casual voice he could muster says “Want to order a pizza and watch a movie?” His blue eyes stare, waiting as Bucky turns to look at him.

He simply replies “Sounds good, Stevie. I can call and you pick out the movie?” Steve nods before bending down to look at their collection of VHS tapes (they like those better than a million different streaming services.) He listens as Bucky orders, as he grabs their copy of Snow White. It always serves as a comfort, something connected to their time. He and Bucky went and seen it in the theater. Bucky had secretly saved a little extra to take Steve. Steve cherishes that memory, one of many.

Bucky for his part does everything in his power to not steal a glimpse of Steve’s ass in those leggings, scolding himself when he does anyways. Little does he know; Steve always takes any opportunity he can to check Bucky out.

Once the pizza arrives, they settle onto the couch, and watch the movie. The pizza box starts between them, on the middle cushion as they eat. But halfway through the movie, Bucky can see Steve is shivering, the apartment still too cold for him and his body, that was lacking the ability to properly circulate his blood. He says quietly “Stevie…do you…” he blushes, embarrassed for what he is about to ask, turning his cheeks pink. He reminds himself that it is for Steve’s good. He continues. “Do you want to…cuddle?” Steve gives him a questioning look, so he quickly adds. ‘Because you're cold. I can tell you are shivering, man. Like when we were kids, you can steal my body heat. I’m basically a human radiator.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

But Steve, regardless, looks anxious as he tentatively nods, moving the pizza box to the floor as he scoots closer, moving very close to Bucky. He looks expectantly at the bigger man to raise his arm so he can press against him, hoping he doesn’t come off as desperate and weak. But Bucky smiles as he obliges, lifting his arm and pulling Steve to his side, arm fitting perfectly around him, like Bucky was made just for Steve. He wants to melt into the feeling. He wants Bucky to never let go.

Steve is careful to keep looking forward, to not let himself get distracted and drawn in by his friend. But it is hard. He has been in love with Bucky since he was 14 years old. He always walked a thin line between appreciating Bucky’s touch as a way to get warm, like when he was sick, or in the one bedroom tenement they were living in together didn’t have proper heat, and loving Bucky's touch as something more. Just wanting to feel Bucky's skin on his, even if it was a selfish little fantasy. But he always craved that touch. Even little things like when he would put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, or when Bucky would playfully throw his arms around Steve.

But he noticed that since the serum, Bucky had touched him less. Less casually pulling him in by the shoulders and just walking with his arm around him, or climbing in bed to keep him warm. Obviously, he didn’t need that second one any more, but he was desperate for something. Anything. Sometimes he would just squeeze Bucky’s shoulder, or pat him on the back just to feel him. Sometimes when Bucky had a nightmare, Steve would hold him, but that was only because Bucky was scared. No joy in that touch. On rare occasions they would hug, and if he thought about it too long, he could swear something more was there.

Lost in his thoughts, he does not realize the movie has ended until Bucky yawns, snapping him out of his head. "Hey, Stevie I think I'm going to hit the hay. You should too, we are going down to see Bruce and Pepper early tomorrow. Night, man." Steve is still staring ahead but he feels Bucky start to untangle himself from him. As Bucky stands up, Steve does not want the sensation to end, not wanting to lose the touch he desperately needs, the only silver lining of this whole ordeal.

Without putting any thought into it, he reaches for the bottom hem of Bucky's shirt as the other man had turned to walk away. Bucky freezes as Steve hurriedly lets go of his shirt, feeling ridiculous. Steve whispers in a voice that is barely audible. "Can I sleep with you? I'm cold." He feels guilty, knowing he isn't saying the whole truth. He is cold but could have done with a pile of blankets, they aren't in the depression anymore with only one blanket each. This was 2024 and they are way better off now. But he wasn't ready to lose Bucky's touch again.

Bucky clears his throat, suddenly hard to breathe, lump forming before he can swallow it down. Steve wants to sleep with him and Bucky wants this so bad. But he has to remind himself that this is for Steve to stay warm, not because he wanted him. His love fogged mind coupled with his own self-dislike, prevented him from putting together that Steve had blankets to keep him warm. He looks back to Steve, whose face seems torn by something, maybe guilt? Bucky didn’t want his friend to feel guilty so he finally replies. "Of course, Stevie."

Steve’s eyes light up for a moment before he reminds himself not to be so…obvious. Bucky thinks he saw something but plays it off as Steve being relieved over Bucky not making this situation any more awkward. He watches Steve smile shyly as he gets off the couch silently, ready to follow him to his bedroom, so he leads the way.

Once in there, Steve just crawls into bed like it was nothing. He figured he might as well rip the bandage off and just do it. He stays completely dressed because he really was freezing in the apartment. Bucky on the other hand was extremely warm, not used to sleeping with the heat on so high. He doesn’t know how uncomfortable Steve would be if he slept in his boxers but decides to do it anyways. It would be more suspicious of him not to. He knows Steve isn’t dumb and has to realize that he would be extremely warm in these temperatures.

So, Bucky slides out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, throwing them into his hamper. Steve tries his hardest not to watch, turning on his side to avert his eyes. He pretends to be preparing to fall asleep, but, in reality, he is attempting to bargain with his heart to not pound right out of his chest and fly away. They haven’t slept together in more than 80 years, not since before the war.

While Steve is busy forcing himself to pretend to try and fall asleep, Bucky sneaks a look over at the blanket, letting himself smile at the lump under the hidden beneath, blonde hair peeking out. He makes his way over to the other side of his full-sized bed and slides in under the covers. It feels like the most normal thing in the world, like things are more normal than they have been in a long time. He reaches over, turning out the light, before scooting close to Steve. Again, he reminds himself that he is just helping him stay warm. He pulls Steve’s back against his chest, wrapping his arm over his hip. For a moment, Bucky wonders if he is over doing it, if this is too far for Steve.

Steve forgets how to breathe for a moment when he feels himself pressed against Bucky’s body so tightly. He worries he may have an asthma attack. He doesn’t remember them ever being so close, well when they were awake that is. Usually they would only get like this in their sleep. Steve remembers one particular time when he was 19, when he woke up in this position, with the still sleeping brunette’s morning wood pressed against his ass. He had to force himself out of bed and into a cold shower after that. All of this is to say that his position really did something to him, and it took all his energy to keep his breath steady.

They lay in the dark, quietly like this for a while. For all of Steve’s worry, and all of Bucky’s self-doubt over this, both men were content. Both men lie together, keeping their secrets, but cherishing this moment. They lay for a long while before it is obvious that neither man is sleeping. It may be subtle, but it was impossible to not feel the electricity that filled the air around them and every space in between them. It was an energy that has been there for a while. It was something that should have been obvious from the start if it weren’t for the fact that both of them were painfully oblivious.

Steve shifts in the bed, turning so he is facing Bucky. Even in the dark, Bucky could see the light blue tones that make up Steve's eyes. He would be lying if he didn't admit they were the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He has been around the world, has seen so many beautiful things, He has seen sparkling oceans, the large majestic sweeping expanses that surrounded Wakanda, tall, purple mountains throughout Europe, but nothing he could think of could make him feel the way he felt whenever he stared into Steve's eyes.

There are some things he has never admitted to Steve about his time as the Winter Soldier. One of these things being that every so often, he was able to bust through, have a moment of clarity before frozen again. In those moments of clarity, he would think of these eyes, of being home. Staring into Steve's eyes, whether Steve was hulking and muscular, or skinny and small, felt like home to him.

Seeing him like this, back to the way he was prior to war has reminded Bucky that beneath all the bravado and responsibility that came with Captain America, he was still Steve. His Stevie. He knew that though, but he has been so wrapped up in guilt for all Steve has done for him, as well as countless atrocities he has committed as the Winter Soldier, he had refused to think about it. Refused to get comfortable. Refused to just be with Steve, always feeling less then, undeserving.

Steve was like the sun, bright and powerful. Bucky had always been content to be sucked into Steve’s gravitational pull. He felt like Steve was the reason he existed, giving him life. He was just a planet who was lucky enough to be pulled in by the sun. But the sun didn’t need the planet that revolved around it, and he always felt that at some level, Steve didn’t need him. He was afraid that if he tried to be more than a planet, wanting more from the sun, Steve could easily destroy him, reject him.

But Steve has been there all along for him, never changing. Bucky had fallen all those years ago, losing his sun, ripping through space aimlessly. The sun had fought, got himself trapped in ice in the name of his planet. Waking up in the future, getting new planets, people finally seeing what Bucky had seen all along in Steve. But as soon as Steve saw that his planet was alive, he was willing to rip his new galaxy apart like it was nothing, to pull his first little planet back in.

Steve had always loved Bucky, and Bucky had been so wrapped up in the fear of losing his sun, that he never let himself appreciate that. Maybe...maybe it was okay for Bucky to want more out of their friendship...because maybe Steve wanted more.

He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he reaches towards Steve's face, and rests his flesh hand on the golden-haired man's face. Both lay perfectly still for a few seconds before Steve closes his and lets out an anguished sigh. When they open back up, Bucky sees a tear running down Steve’s face, worry is coating his features, his brow scrunched up in a way that Bucky just wants to reach up and smooth out. In a soft voice, the brunette asks "Stevie....what is it...."

Steve closes his eyes again, taking a pained sigh as he moves his own hand softly over the hand resting on his face, doing his best to hold on for a moment longer before he comes clean. "I don't want you to hate me..."

Bucky feels his chest tensing up, not knowing what could have prompted Steve to say that. "What makes you think I could ever hate you? I don't think that is possible. " Bucky replies truthfully.

"It’s...just..." Steve takes a deep breath, before sitting up and staring down at Bucky. Bucky frowns at the loss of contact before sitting up as well, facing the blonde who looked like he might break if Bucky stared too hard. He continues, "It's just, I didn’t need you to keep me warm, Buck."

"What?" Bucky stares back, genuine confusion on his face.

"We have plenty of blankets now, I would have been fine in my own bed. But since this happened, earlier I hated it. I hated feeling small again, weak and sickly. But...there was some good. You...you were holding onto me again, like you would when we were younger….and I missed feeling your arms around me. " Steve is blushing like crazy. "And when we were on the couch, it felt so good for you to be holding onto me, and so I lied. I didn’t want it to end...so I told you I needed you to keep me warm. I'm so sorry, Buck. You must think I'm a freak." Steve takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling the covers off, readying himself to stand up. He stutters "I'm going to go to my own room now…I'd appreciate it if you never bring this up again. I am so sorry."

Bucky is confused, trying to put together what is happening. Before he could respond, Steve had shuffled out of his room, leaving him alone.

Steve drops onto his bed, mortified at himself. He really was pathetic, too scared to even stay and find out the fall out of what he has done. He just admitted to his best friend that he lied to him and used him all because of he wanted to be touched. He wishes he didn’t have this weird crush on him. But he does and for him it has always been Bucky, and probably will always be. It wasn't fair to push that on Bucky, though. He buries himself in blankets, dreading what the morning will bring.

He lays there for a few minutes, mauling over what will happen. Will Bucky move out? Will he not talk to anymore? Did he just mess up everything? All the worse scenarios play in his mind like a horror movie. He feels a tear run down his face and he just lets it happen. Soon tears are covering his pillow,the dam broken, his body shaking. He feels like he will never stop, terrified he just lost his best friend.

He is so wrapped up in his own mess, he doesn't hear the door opening. But then he feels the nattress shift as someone gets inside the covers on the other side. He doesn't turn his head, afraid that he is just imagining it, that he is going to lose whatever is there if he looks. But then he hears "Hey Stevie…I'm cold."

Steve’s head is spinning, what is going on. He finally gets the nerve to turn around, finding a beautiful brunette, his Bucky, smiling at him. "Buck….what are you doing?"

He softly replies "I just told you, I'm cold and need someone to cuddle with, is that okay?"

Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face as the last few rebel tears fall. Something tells him that the shirtless man in front of him was in no way cold, but he plays along. "Yea, its alright. Will alway be alright…."

With that, Bucky pulls Steve into his arms, Steve’s head falling onto his chest as the other man holds him close. Both men able to fiy fall asleep.

Maybe not quite a confession yet, but its babysteps. As long as they keep moving forward,they could take their time getting there.

#bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #steve x bucky #captain america #tfatws #sam wilson #marvel #shrinkyclinks #stucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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conaionaru · 3 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Anyone can betray anyone

Synopsis: While Ivar is away, Vanya does everything to keep her mind off his possible death, meanwhile Aslaug faces an enemy from the past.

Warnings: fluff? (Aslaug + Vanya), betrayal, character death, angst, slight anti-Lagertha (she deserved it), talk or revenge

Tags: @shannygoatgruff @queenbeeta @lol-haha-joke @xbellaxcarolinax @youbloodymadgenius @chynagirl13 @didiintheblog @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @thereareendlessopportunities

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

It was the middle of the night as they sat in a circle; some of the women were familiar, others weren't, but they all shared the same goal. They all prayed for their families to return from raiding alive and well. No matter if they went to the Mediterranean with Bjorn and Hvitserk or to England with Ragnar and Ivar, the women of the family prayed to the gods.

Hoenir sacrificed a goat and smeared the blood over their faces as they prayed to Thor for strength. Ever since the Ragnarssons left, Aslaug has been distant, and Vanya feared the Queen felt Ivar die.

And so distracted herself from these thoughts by spending time with the common folk. Prayer circles, visits to the orphanage, or just strolls through the marker, Vanya was always surrounded by people. But inside, she felt hollow just like the rest of them, Aros being her only source of joy.

Ubbe joked that the babe would be able to walk by the time Ivar came back, as he's very eager to stand. Of course, he can't do it independently, but he has no problem holding himself up if you hold him. And Vanya was very proud of that.

Right now, the Ivarsson is with his grandmother, who asked to look after him for a little bit. The request was sudden, but Vanya was very happy that the Queen was feeling a bit better.

"Are you alright, Princess Vanya?" questioned an old woman, she had gray hair and looked worn down, but she came to every prayer circle. Her two grandsons left with Bjorn, and her son joined Ragnar.

"Of course, a little bit dizzy from the sigh of blood. But I am alright." The woman didn't believe her at all and put her withered hand on top of Vanya's.

"The gods aren't always just, but they listen to the prayers and act on them if they are pleased. You have pleased the gods since the ships left; you should rest a little bit too. Or you will wear yourself thin."

Vanya chuckled and shook her head at the answer. "I will be fine. The gods will hear our prayer and help us. Everything will be alright."

Not so far away from Vanya's place of blissful denial, Lagertha was hatching plans. "I am taking Kattegat back. Aslaug isn't fit to be Queen."

"What about Ragnar's sons?" Astrid asked her lover, curious about what will become of the boys.

"Born of a witch." The shieldmaiden replied simply, stroking her own like a conversation about the weather and not about usurping a Queen.

"They are still his sons."

Lagertha looked at Astrid with solemn eyes and stood up from her seat. "Bjorn, Hvitserk, and Ivar are all gone."

"But Ubbe and Sigurd remain. Are you going to kill them too?"

Luckily for them, Torvi had the perfect solution in the form of Margrethe. But one thing remained unclear to Astrid. "What of Vanya? What will happen to her?"

"We can't hurt her. She is the sole heir to a kingdom in England. If she dies as well, they will sail to our shores and demand vengeance." Lagertha's words held a tone of anger in them. They tried to pull the Princess to their side on the feast, but her mind was too warped by Aslaug's witchy ways. Just like Ragnar's had been.

"She will remain where she is, we just have to make sure she won't interfere, and no harm comes to her or Aros," Torvi suggested looking at her mother in law for approval. When Lagertha asked for an explanation, the younger blonde was happy to provide. "For leverage against Ivar."

Margrethe nodded at this and looked at Lagertha unsurely. "When Vanya went missing, he lost his mind. If she and the babe are safe, he won't be so angry. She calms him sometimes."

"Then it's decided. Now, enough questions. I have to talk to Torvi."

Vanya entered the Queen's chambers to retrieve Aros right after the prayer circle. When she saw Aslaug sitting on her bed, holding her grandson close with sad eyes, she didn't know what to say. "I always wanted a daughter. I am thankful for all of my sons, and love them very much. But sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a daughter."

Vanya walked closer to the bed, sitting down next to Aslaug to watch Aros sleep. He looked just like Ivar when he slept, serene and innocent with a little frown and scrunched up nose. At least he slept easier than before.

"When the marriage offer came in, and it said they choose Ivar, I was worried. I wanted him to find somebody worthy of him, who would love him just as much as I do. And then this little scared Christian came in, and I was so angry that he would have to marry her. But she showed her true colors little by little. Suddenly there wasn't a scared girl who would bring his boredom and misery. The Princess didn't judge him and even grew to love him over time."

Vanya smiled at the Queen's kind words; no matter how much it hurt to remember Ivar and his possible fate, it warmed her heart to hear about him nonetheless. "I gained a daughter thanks to a monster from another place far from here. A daughter I grew to love even more when she gave me a grandson. Even if I lost a son, I gained two more people to care for. And I am very thankful for that."

She looked up to show her tearstained face and laid her palm against Vanya's equally teary face. "I want you to know that you are a part of this family, blood or not. You are my daughter, and Aros is my grandson. And nothing can or ever will change that."

"Why are you saying all this?"

Aslaug smiled and hugged her close, hiding her face in Vanya's neck. If it weren't for the closeness, she wouldn't be able to have heard the Queen's next words. "I thought it needed to be said. We never know when we might draw our last breath. Ubbe and Sigurd went on a visit, and you are the only family that remains here. We should stick together."

Vanya nodded and hugged the woman tighter. "Of course. Do you want me to stay the night?"

"I would love that."

Hoenir walked the path around the village with a horn of ale in one hand, his other resting on his new sword. His morning walk towards Ivar's and Vanya's hut was always pleasant. Usually, he took a walk around town first, but today something felt off. So he chose to go straight to their home.

The atmosphere around him made Hoenir uneasy and on edge. He felt like prey in the lion's den, just waiting to be swallowed by the bigger animal lurking around the corner. His visions have been horrifying for some time now, and he couldn't make sense of them.

Yesterday he came with his worries to Aslaug waiting for an explanation, but the Völva told him not to worry. The Seer wasn't of any help either, and so he was left to solve it on his own.

The visions of blood and carnage weren't anything new to him. Destruction was where he was, or better said, he followed it. The Gods sent him where blood was shed, and he did what they asked. In some places, he helped the sick; in others, he slaughtered enemies. Here, he protected a Princess.

Not his most admirable work, but the easiest so far. Looking after Vanya was a challenge, and unfortunately, he was more used to a routine. The ginger preferred to vary her tasks between charity, sewing, or visiting Helga and Floki. She liked to do things spontaneously, and he had to follow. So he implemented routines where he could, morning walks at dawn, a tavern in the evening, training before bed.

But these visions were foreign to him; never before did he dream of owls on thrones or burning ships. He tried every approach to deciphering the pieces he had, but the meaning was still unclear.

He entered Vanya's hut without knocking; without Ivar home, the chances of his seeing something he wouldn't want to see are slim. But the house was empty, and the fireplace was cold. "Fuck."

He runs out of the hut, making his way to the Great Hall, but the snapping of a twig startles him. "Who’s there? I don't have time for games, so show yourself."

Eight women with shields and swords walked out from behind the huts, glaring at him as if he offended them. The shields were painted with the colors of Lagertha's Earldom. "I would say I am shocked, but that would be a lie."

The women charged at him as he drew both of his swords, fighting them off. He cut through two easily, but an arrow flew from somewhere, hitting him in the shoulder. The remaining six women used the opportunity to disarm him, another well-aimed arrow to his knee, putting him to his knees.

Hoenir looked up to the rooftop from where the arrow came from to see a blonde woman standing there, notching another arrow. "Torvi." A shield hit him over the head right after he felt a pain in his tight and a hit to his jaw. And then everything went black, he collapsed into the mud.

Aros whined in Vanya's arms as Aslaug got dressed for her meeting with the Usurper Lagertha. The woman invaded Kattegat to become Queen, and Vanya would rather they escape than face the shieldmaiden that could kill Aslaug in the blink of an eye.

But Aslaug was determined to face her husband's first wife; she could see it in her stance and eyes. This made Vanya wonder if yesterday's sentiment was because of today's situation. Aslaug turned to Vanya with the sword of Kings in her hands and walked towards the shaken ginger.

She pulled Vanya to her, a hand on the back of her head, and leaned closer to her ear. "Be brave, Vanya. If you let them see fear, you let them win. Be invincible." With that, Aslaug pulled away and kissed her forehead, leaving the Great Hall surrounded by warriors with Vanya and Aros in the rear. Hoenir was gods know where, which made her worry for his safety.

Maybe he was fighting outside, and they will arrive to see Lagertha's corpse in the middle of the street. With unsure steps, Vanya walked behind the confident Queen, praying for everything to end soon. They stayed behind as Aslaug walked through the cheering crowd to the blond shieldmaiden.

The sight behind Lagertha made Vanya's breath hitch. Some shieldmaiden's had Hoenir captured, his face bloody and body impaled by three arrows.He was breathing heavily, kneeling in the dirt with a pool of blood under him. Tears gathered in her eyes when she saw him; he looked half dead.

They pulled the hood of his head to show Aslaug what happened to one of her best fighters. But to their surprise, Aslaug stood her ground, looking at the seasoned shieldmaiden before her.

"How strange Lagertha, that you would play the usurper. One woman against another. It doesn't quite fit with your reputation."

"I was never the usurper. Always the usurped." She put her sword away, watching the other Queen with determined eyes. "You took my husband, my world, and my happiness. The fact that you are a woman is neither here nor there."

"I didn't take your husband. He chose to be with me."

"He didn't choose. You're a witch. You bewitched him." Even from afar, Lagertha's serious face and tone made Vanya take a double-take. What's more believable, that the Völva used magic to make Ragnar sleep with her, or that he cheated because he met a pretty girl far away from his wife? Honestly, Ragnar didn't strike Vanya as a man who would fall for magic. The pretty girl was more believable.

Even Aslaug couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the claim. "If that's what you want to believe, it's up to you. I don't disagree women can have power over men. But it's not always magical, is it, Lagertha? In any case," Aslaug looked around the crowd and raised her voice so they could all hear her next words. "Ragnar is dead."

The crowd gasped and talked among themselves in a mix of confusion, shock, and disbelief. "You don't know that." Lagertha accused Aslaug, not wanting to face the possibility he was actually gone.

"I dreamed it. I warned him about his journey. In my dream, his boats were sunk in a storm. Ragnar died." The Queens face saddened, and Aros whined in Vanya's arms. "So did my son, Ivar."

"But you don't know that." The desperation on Lagertha's side was obvious. Aslaug averted her gaze as if she was thinking before looking back up at her with a tilted head.

"No. I don't know that for sure. It was just a dream." The people whispered while Lagertha glared at the woman who taunted her in a dire situation. Hoenir looked towards the direction where the crying of a baby came from to see Vanya. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but Torvi dug her nails into his shoulder wound, silencing him.

Lagertha's eyes were tearful, and her voice honest as she steered back to the topic at hand. "And I have dreamed of taking back my home. I have dreamed it for a long time. But if I have to fight for it, then I will."

Aslaug smirked in amusement. "Don't worry. I could never fight you, Lagertha. I am not my mother, nor yet my father. I would never win." She threw the sword of Kings to the ground, raising up the murmurs once again. "But still, I have fulfilled my destiny. The gods foretold Ragnar would have many sons. And I have given him those sons. I am as much a part of his saga, Lagertha, as you are. But now I renounce everything."

The crowd kept getting louder as Aslaug continued her jabs at the usurper, finding the whole ordeal amusing in a sense. After all, when Ivar was born, they seemed to have made up, only for Lagertha to change her mind seventeen years later.

"All I ask is safe passage. All I ask is that you let me, my daughter Vanya and my grandson leave here in peace, to go wherever the gods decide. And you shall have back your hearth and home..." Aaslaug preened at the shocked shieldmaiden. "With my blessing. And my sons, when they hear how it was done, will be grateful for the manner of it... And not seek revenge."

Lagertha nodded at the reminder of Aslaug's three living sons. "I understand." She moved out of Aslaug's way, Vanya running up behind her so they could leave together. Aslaug motioned for the ginger to walk in front of her, thanking the new Queen of Kattegat.

The two women and babe walked forward bravely; heads held high. A swissing sound and Aslsaug stopping made Vanya halt as well. She turned around to see Aslaug collapse to her knees with a smile on her face, Lagertha standing behind her with a bow in her hand.

"NO!" Vanya run towards her mother in law, catching her in her arms, Aros crying hysterically in his sling. She pulled the Queen tighter to her, laying her head against her shoulder as she tried to put pressure on the wound in her back. "No, no, no. You can't die, you can't die."

But she could feel the lack of heartbeat and the sticky blood on her hand, the dead weight of her mother figure a painful truth. "No." Vanya sobbed into her shoulder, raising her eyes to meet Lagetha's, the satisfaction in the blue eyes the last nail in her coffin.

She watched the blonde with disgust and hate in her eyes, wishing she would burst into flames on the spot, giving her the most painful death imaginable. "You..." She spat the words out, tears streaming down her face, failing to hold up the corpse any longer.

Carefully she laid her down on the ground, guards running up to her to haul her away from the body. Vanya struggled against them, screaming her throat raw, just like her son against her chest. But it was no use as they dragged her away, Aslaug laying on the cold ground, alone.

Vanya did as Aslaug ordered her to do; she hid her fear and resentment under a mask of power and pride. Lagertha watched her walk to the shore; the ginger had her hair loose and was dressed in black from head to toe. A golden crown rested on her head, big dangly earrings, and a golden necklace around her neck.

The funeral was a miserable affair; the moment they lit the boat, it felt like a part of Vanya died. As if she crawled into the ship and curled herself around the horse head, burning alive alongside Aslaug's corpse.

The Queen looked as magnificent as she did while alive, finally free of all the burdens that came with marrying Ragnar Lothbrok. Vanya stood alongside the shores, surrounded by shieldmaidens, a prisoner. Brynja was forbidden anywhere near her, and she never felt more alone. Hoenir was being taken care of by some healers; the only one she had left was Aros.

Her son hated the scene as much as her, clutching her black dress in his tiny fists, hiccuping in between sobs. Humming a lullaby into his ear didn't help either. She wondered if he understood what happened or what danger they were in now.

She may have walked onto the shore surrounded by Aslaug's guards, but a nod from the new Queen made them abandon her, Lagertha's warriors surrounding her instead. Their loyalties lay with the new ruler, which meant that if she ordered Vanya's death, no one would try to stop her.

Vanya's head was on the chopping block, the axe dangling over her head. But she had to hide her fear, look as if she was at peace with death, or hid an ace in her sleeve. But she was powerless; the only thing she has is her courage.

Lagertha stood away from her, smiling in satisfaction, unbothered by Vanya's hateful stare. This time, Vanya didn't pray for her demise; she wished she could kill the bitch herself. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

By the time Ubbe and Sigurd returned, everything was in chaos. Asluag was buried, and Lagertha sat on her throne. "Where's our mother?"

"She's dead, Ubbe." She replied nonchalantly, causing the two brothers to look at her in shock. They refused to go to England with Ragnar to protect Kattegat and their mother and failed both. "I killed her."

"Why?" The question was soft and laced with confusion and hurt. Despite being the oldest, Ubbe felt useless, helpless. He left her and signed her death sentence in return.

"She took Kattegat away from me. I wanted it back." Torvi and Astrid watched the Ragnarsson curiously, waiting for them to attack. Ubbe drew his weapon, and just as fast, the rest of the hall did as well.

Sigurd tried to hold him back, knowing it would be futile and would probably result in their deaths as well. "Where's Vanya and Aros? What did you do to them?" He asked, looking around the hall for his nephew and sister in law, but couldn't see them.

"They are alive, but not here. I do not know where they are."

"Why didn't you also have us killed?" Sigurd asked again, trying to make sense of Lagertha's plan. Did she really think they wouldn't avenge their mother? No matter how strained his relationship with her was, Lagertha's actions would hold consequences.

Sitting on her throne of lies, Lagertha smiled somewhat smugly. "This was nothing to do with you. You are Ragnar's sons. It was not your fault that your father was bewitched."

Ubbe pointed his dagger towards her, spitting words like venom. "It was a mistake not to kill us."

"That's a chance I was prepared to take." Ubbe turned his back to the new Queen, dropping his coat and charging towards her. Sigurd was held back by numerous warriors with swords to his throat as his brother fought his way to Lagertha.

He would have made it if it were not for Astrid stepping in and the others using the chance to pin him to the ground. Lagertha watched the Ragnarsson growling on the floor like a feral beast, worry evident in her eyes.

Sigurd and Ubbe left the Great Hall, the older of the two beaten up pretty badly. Brynja watched them go, taking the dark alley's between the houses to stay out of the usurper's sight. Striding after them, she picked up a pebble and threw it at Sigurd's head, startling the young Prince.

He turned around in shock to see her red hair in the alley, mentioning for him to come closer, he pulled his brother after him. "Brynja? What do you want?"

The ginger rolled her blue eyes and took both by the hand, leading them through the less crowded ways, taking various turns to shake off any followers. In the end, they reached a farm on top of a hill, hushed voices spoke inside the hut. "We were worried that they killed you too. Luckily, the Gods heard some of Vanya's prayers."

"You know where she is?" Ubbe questioned the servant earnestly only to ear a shushing sound and a nod. When the door opened, they were greeted with a bearded man with a bow pointed at that.

"Put it down, father. The Ragnarssons are back."

"Thank the Gods." He lowered the weapon and allowed them in. Behind a curtain in the kitchen were hushed voices by candlelight. One belonged to their sister in law, which made them sigh in victory.

"Vanya!" Sigurd called out, pulling back the curtain to see the Saxon Princess on her knees with an older woman by her side, tending to someone on a bed of furs. The someone was barechested, with bandages over his shoulder and pants ripped in some places to give access to his other wounds. "Is that Hoenir?"

"Arrow wounds, bruises, a broken nose, and two broken fingers, cuts, and scrapes all over as well. They beat him in the morning, left him on the ground to bleed out." Vanya explained, wringing the bloody cloth in a basin of water.

"Will he be ok?" Sigurd questioned, walking closer to his friend's bedside. The two men grew close over time, bonding over their love for music and Vanya. Hoenir was a good listener and gave wise advice when needed; it would be a shame if he died like this instead of the battlefield. A man like him deserved Valhalla.

Vanya bandaged another wound on the knee as the older woman wiped his face clean, and Brynja moved to find him some new clothes. "If the Gods's will it. We gave him tea to put him to sleep. But it's up to his strength and the Gods if he lives."

"We should move him." Ubbe declared, looking down at his sister to see her crying, eyes bloodshot, and Aros sleeping on another fur next to Hoenir. "I am sorry we left."

"She shot her Ubbe." Vanya sobbed out, looking at the beaten-up man in desperation. As if Ubbe could bring Aslaug back from the dead. "After renouncing everything and asking safe passage! Lagertha shot her in the back. I felt her die in my arms..."

#history vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar #ivar x oc #ivar imagine #original character #original female character

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Text

An Awakening

Vision learns the truth of his life prior to Westview which leads to an honest conversation with Wanda.

Ao3 link

There is nothingness and then there is a calliope, it’s jaunty little ditty shocking his mind enough that Vision’s eyes snap open. Blades of grass tickle his cheek and an aura of flashing lights draws him up, palms pressed firmly onto the ground as he hoists himself up into a seated position. His body aches, a faint echo in his mind of being violently torn apart, but it is a feeling that fades the faster he thinks about it. Since it seems important, he tries to move his mind away, hoping that if he doesn’t explicitly focus on it that it will not be forgotten.

Vision nods, goes to stand up, but finds his legs not responding fully, knees buckling under the weight of a fleeting memory of immense pain. A hand loops under his right bicep, the woman’s other hand coming to rest on his back as she helps him up with an aggrieved, “Why can men never admit when they’re hurt?” The snark behind the comment feels forced, the same underlying terror on her face as all the other residents here.

That’s when he remembers, most of it at least. He was on his own reconnaissance patrol, inching ever more methodically toward the edge of town to see how far Wanda’s influence reached. The horror of his findings, their frozen, crying faces, almost knocks him back to the ground, but luckily the woman’s hands are still there to steady him. “Thank you.”

“Did you go in the funhouse?” It’s not really a question the way her voice falls, more of a statement with a rhetorical uptick at the end. “Heard it’s really disorienting with all the clowns.”

Vision doesn’t recall such an attraction anywhere in Westview but then he looks up, following the still present music in the air, and finds an entire carnival before him. Red and white striped tents tower out of the ground, stalls for food send plumes of greasy smoke into the air, and numerous game stalls are lined up where stuffed animals and blowup hammers hang joyfully from the walls. This is new. What is also new is that there are houses and roads beyond Ellis Avenue, which seems right, as if it was always like that, but there is a niggle of unease that tells him this isn’t true, if only he could access the information that makes him feel that way.

“Oh, um , thank you.” His costume is, at least by his understanding of how Billy and Tommy reacted, not sick by any means. Regardless, he finds his hand moving on its own accord to grip the cape, wanting to feel the object of her jealousy. It feels different, slicker and more aerodynamic than the one Wanda left in the closet. He yanks it a bit farther forward and notes that it is also a much more subdued gold with flecks of crimson in parts. A glance down also confirms that his green and yellow ensemble is gone, replaced by teals and reds, no athletic shorts covering the skin tight ensemble.

This is all wrong.

Vision knows the town never had a circus, nor the rows of houses beyond Ellis, he knows that he was not in this outfit and that everything feels just a bit off.

“Do you want some coffee or a ride back home?” The concern in her voice goes deeper than one would expect, even though she did find him injured on the ground, something more wavers in her words. Vision decides that he needs more answers than questions and, even though he hates taking away people’s autonomy, he reaches towards her temple. “Woah,” the woman swats his hands away, “I have pepper spray.”

“I will not harm you.” Oddly her face softens and she drops the threat, allowing him to send a pulse of golden energy into her head.

The change is instantaneous, the woman’s face becoming far more animated, “Vision?! Oh my God, you’re okay!” This is now the second awakened person to recognize him, to be excited at the prospect that he is there to help. “Oh what the hell!” Vision watches the woman’s hand run along her gaudy canary and ruby diner uniform, one that is common in little run down diners on the highway, a thought that he doesn’t quite know how to substantiate since he doesn’t seem to have a memory of such a stop and yet the knowledge is there. As she inspects her clothes, grunting in disbelief and irritation built into every movement, she confuses him further, “I’m an astrophysicist and this is what I get? So disrespectful.”

Neither Norm nor Agnes responded in such a...laid back way to be awakened, both in immeasurable pain that this woman seems to show no signs of. “Miss, are you okay?”

“Doctor, not Miss.”

“My apologies.”

She turns a bright, closed lip smile towards him, reaching out her hand as she says, “I’m Darcy.”

He takes the proffered hand and gives it a polite shake. Even though it is clearly unnecessary he adds, “And I’m Vision.” What he says next is a bit of a surprise to him, mainly because he doesn’t feel like he has a basis for the assumption that she will know the answer, but for some reason he has full faith she can help him, that she wants to help him. “Who am I? What,” he surveys the carnival around him, “what is happening here?”

“Straight to the big questions.” It is not derisively or caustically stated, in fact there is far more affection than one would expect from a stranger. Darcy glances around, nervous for the first time, “I’ll try to be quick, I’m sure your wife’ll be here soon.” This fear is not new, sadly, the same insinuation made by Norm about Wanda’s involvement. “Let’s see, you’re Vision, obviously,” a small, self conscious chuckle goes along with the statement. “You’re an Avenger,” luckily, she senses his desire for more, quickly adding, “group of super powered people, well, not all of them have super powers, some just have really amazing tech, but anyway you’re a team that fights bad guys and saves the universe.”

“Wanda and myself, we were-“

“Yep, joined at the same time and then fell in love, really cute.”

This confirms what Agnes said, which suggests that perhaps her other words were true as well. “Am I...dead?” All joy leeches from Darcy’s face, a deflated nod going along with the tightening of her lips. “How?”

Darcy looks around again and Vision can’t help but join her in the action, can’t help but feel a little bit nervous about who doesn’t want him to know this. “Shortened version - big purple angry grape named Thanos was collecting all the infinity stones, this includes the Mindstone,” Vision’s fingers rise up to brush the gem. “Wanda had to kill you to try and stop him.”

“She killed me?”

Quickly context is added, “Only because you,” she levels a finger at his chest to emphasize his role and take blame off his wife, “insisted she do it.”

None of what she says makes sense. “Why would I do that?”

The next statement is said in a way that typically is coupled with a playful fist against the shoulder that leads into a jovial shove. “Being all self-sacrificial’s kinda your thing. Which is super noble, don’t get me wrong, but a bit rough on the people around you, like asking them to kill you for the greater good.”

Which is a fair point and one he will need to cogitate on at a later time, “Why did Wanda, specifically, have to kill me?”

“Oh because she was the only one strong enough to destroy the Mindstone.”

A logical assessment that he can easily believe his former self to have made. “Was she successful?”

Darcy’s voice quiets somewhat, a slight tremble in her words, “She was. But then Thanos reversed time, brought you back, and murdered you right in front of her.”

Suddenly his worldview shifts, new meaning and understanding emerging as to some of Wanda’s actions and her strong reaction to his accusations the other night. Despite this dawning of understanding, there is still a major question he feels hasn’t been answered. “But then how are we here? How am I,” he falters on the next word, as early as this evening not thinking it was something that could be false, “alive?”

“That’s the million dollar question. No one knows.” A high pitched whizzing vibrates in the air, punctuated by calls of Vision! “I gotta go,” she begins to walk away, but turns back with an anger not yet present in her words, “Quick FYI, if you meet a guy named Hayward, don’t trust him, he’s a dick.”

“I um, will not, thank you.”

She starts to leave again and then stops, “Also, we don’t have proof it’s all Wanda. Food for thought.”

Vision appreciates the comment, “Thank you.” It is when she actually walks away that he is the one that has a realization of not re-invoking whatever trance the people of the town are in. “Darcy!” She turns expectedly towards him as he approaches with his hands out and ready to take the pain from her, except she swats his hands away, yet again.

“Stop it, I’m a better ally awake.”

Based on the prior two people he has spoken to in their awakened state, this seems a poor choice for her. “Does it not hurt?”

“I mean, yeah, feels like I went on a tequila bender last night and haven’t had water in weeks.” How she remains so lighthearted is beyond him, but he admires it immensely, “but I can’t help you if I’ve forgotten.”

Though he isn’t sure it is in her best interest to remain in such a state, the idea of a confidant is appealing. “Very well.”

Seconds after she walks away, blue streaks materialize around Vision, both his sons and his wife appearing suddenly in front of him. This is unusual but he doesn’t get a chance to inquire about their speedy entrance, Billy rushing towards him first with a relieved, “Dad!” Vision catches him, using the momentum of his son’s leap to lift him and hold him close, Billy’s arm wrapping protectively around Vision’s neck. Tommy follows shortly after, his run far more powerful as he slams into Vision’s torso with a tight hug.

It is Wanda who hesitates, her eyes faintly glowing red, a deep, concerned frown on her lips. “Vizh,” her voice cracks and his heart breaks at the pain she tries so valiantly to mask. Vision manages to get one of his hands free enough to motion Wanda closer. She accepts the offer, one arm winding around his waist and the other laying on Tommy’s shoulders.

They have only been home for three hours and yet this is the tenth Wanda has found herself standing in the doorway, hand propped along the wooden frame. In the room Vision lies in bed, eyes closed and resting, Billy is wrapped around him, his arm thrown across his father’s chest and head buried just under the vibranium dot of Vision’s chin, and Tommy is curled snuggly into Vision’s other side. The boys are still in their costumes, Billy’s cape sprawled behind him on their mattress and Tommy’s now flat hair looking a bit crusty from the spray dye. It’s an idyllic scene and yet Wanda fights back tears, shoving the drops away from her eyes as if they are an enemy that needs to be thwarted.

She almost lost Vision...again. The boys almost lost their father at ten years old, an age for which grief is overwhelming and confusing, can shape a life forever, or so she intimately knows.

Reluctantly her body pulls away from the door, arms crossing over her chest as she walks back downstairs, not once considering peeking in on her brother in the guest room. That is a problem she is still trying to figure out, the man a stranger, an antagonist, but with her brother’s name. There are too many inconsistencies in his behavior, too many contradictions in his words, half of them true to her brother and the other far too knowing of events that occurred after his death. Unsurprisingly he and Vision clash, a thought that briefly makes her mouth perk up, always having a belief that if her brother lived he would have begrudgingly accepted her relationship while also making it his personal duty to make jabs at Vision, who Wanda always knew would take it with a silent dignity that was then removed late at night when he’d insist on lengthy conversations with her to figure out the insults. That’s what life was supposed to be. What life is now, technically.

The gurgle of water washes away these thoughts, her focus now solely on filling the kettle and getting it on a burner to boil. Except the distraction is short lived as she sits down at the kitchen table to wait, fingers interwoven and glowing faintly of the residual scarlet energy she had to use tonight. Wanda fixates on her fingers, bending and straightening them, unsure how she knew what to do or even had the power to expand the town. But that’s not the most troubling incident of the night. No, what pesters at her resolve is a simple thought: Why did Vision want to leave? They have everything here - a house, Billy and Tommy, each other, and the time they always tried so hard to find.

Wanda startles at the creak of the kitchen cabinet, heart still racing as she takes in the curve of Vision’s shoulders and the vibranium band along the back of his head. Silently he makes her a cup of tea, hands moving calmly through the ritual he created, the cup always the same distance from the kettle, bag placed at the bottom with the string hanging out precisely two inches, both hands holding the kettle (one on the handle and one at the base) as a perfect arc of water fills the cup, and finally one and a third spoonfuls of sugar. The sequence completed, Vision walks the cup to the table, placing it gently down with barely a clink from the porcelain. She expects him to sit down across from her, to silently stare for a minute or so before bringing up the town again, reopening the wounds of their last fight because they never actually resolved anything other than to try and act normal around the boys. But he doesn’t, instead he takes her hand, tugging it until she stands, and then he hugs her, engulfing her entire being in his presence. The firmness of his chest and the tinny waft of vibranium are just as soothing as the kisses he peppers along the top of her head, each one more doting than the last. “Vizh,” Wanda reluctantly pulls back a few inches, hand squeezing between their bodies until she can cup his face, “are you…”

“I know,” he kisses her properly now, not like the emotionless peck earlier in the day, this one imbued with all of his love and all of his concern. “I know enough.”

A chill moves through her body, limbs growing rigid and heart almost coming to a complete stop. “What do you mean?”

Vision’s fingers move up to trace lines through her hair, palm coming to rest on her cheek. The surety of his prior statement lessens, mouth sinking lower until it’s a shallow frown. “I know that I am,” it is unlike him to pause like this, to seem to want to avoid a conversation he himself brought up, “that I was dead.”

Her denial is immediate and viscera, “What are you talking about, why would you…” but then his doleful gaze meets hers, the ridges of his synthetic skin bunched together in a show of deep, aching pain, though it is clear from the way he holds her, the way he places a far too gentle kiss to her forehead, as if the action itself might knock her over, that he is more concerned for her than himself, which is the epitome of who he was...who he is. If there is anything she can offer that matches this unerring compassion, it has to be honesty because clearly hiding the truth from him will not stop his incessant march towards the truth. But that is easier to think about than it is to actually commit to doing. Wanda swallows down a sob and fights to keep her voice calm. “You were.” The confirmation is too much, her chest heaving as all the memories rush to the forefront of her mind--her hands erupting in red at the feel of the Mindstone fracturing, at the almost silent I love you , and then having to watch him come back only to die in a far more brutal way.

Strong arms that shouldn’t exist continue to encase her, draw her deeper into the comfort of his embrace, the feel of his fingers running through her hair with the same gentle “Wanda” he always said when soothing her. Deep down she knows it is all a lie, this life, this man, this blissful existence. Because as a Maximoff there is only one constant in life and it is sorrow, biting, empty, unavoidable sorrow. Which begs the question of how, exactly he found out. A question that infuriates her and invokes the well know feeling of being caged in by the inevitability of her life.

Wanda steps out of his arms, trying her best not to show how much pain that simple movement creates, her body screaming to remain against his forever, but selfishly she needs answers more than anything, needs information to help her regain some level of control over her emotions, has to know why he put his family through so much just to find out this awful truth. “Why aren’t you happy here?”

A denial forms quickly, his body taut at the accusation, “I am happy Wanda, how could I not be?”

“Because you left, you...you abandoned us today,” Wanda knows she shouldn’t use the next part in anger or for gain, but she needs her husband to understand the severity of it all. “Did you know Billy can sense you?”

Vision’s “He can?” is hard to read, both concerned and in awe, with something else she can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yes, and his first experience of that was feeling you try to die because we apparently aren’t important enough to stay alive for.” The comment hits as intended, Vision stepping back, horror forming in the spasming muscles of his face as he looks up towards the ceiling, towards where he left their sons. “What are you trying to find out there?”

Vision’s simple, “The truth,” is aggravatingly vague, thankfully, or not depending on how this goes, he clarifies, “There is something wrong in Westview, Wanda. The people are in agony.”

A fed up laugh comes out with her “Aren’t we all?” Only Vision can’t find the humor, the gears in his eyes twisting clockwise and counterclockwise while he stares at her, face ladened with a suffocating sympathy.

He takes a step towards her and she steps back, not missing the way her reaction hurts him. “Wanda, it is not like you to inflict pain on innocent people.”

Since they started this new life, her memories have been hazy, coming in and out of consciousness, enough clarity to understand that whatever is happening in Westview is preferable to outside of it. After tonight, after Pietro’s comment about her dead husband, it’s all there and she realizes that she’s never gotten to say out loud what she did, what Thanos forced her to do, the Avengers too scattered with all that needed to be attended to after his defeat to focus on anyone but themselves. So she squares her shoulders, lifts her head and puts all of her self loathing into her next comment, “If that’s true, then why did I kill you?”

This time when Vision steps towards her she lets him grip her arms, let’s him guide her until her face is pressed into his chest, allowing her to hear the beating of his synthetic heart. “You were only doing what I had asked.”

“Well it wasn’t worth it,” her voice is muffled by the teal sweater he’s wearing, “and I can’t, I can’t forgive myself.”

His arms tighten around her, one hand gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt and the other holding her head to his sternum. “You did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame-”

It doesn't take a telepath to know what empty words he is about to mutter. Wanda forces herself from his embrace and stares hard into his eyes, “Don’t, Vision, just don’t. It won’t change what happened.”

Reluctantly he accepts it, moving cautiously back to the original topic of their discord, “Is this,” he gestures vaguely around them, “the result of,” it is still hard for him to say, which she appreciates because she can’t say it easily either, “my death?”

“I don’t know,,” this time he seems to accept her ignorance, which allows her a chance to actually consider it more. All she can really recall is the crushing loneliness and the suffocating despair of losing the last person she loved in the world. It’s not a stretch to assume that had something to do with now. “Maybe?” If he knows about his death, she reasons that she might as well tell him the other nightmare she discovered upon her own rebirth, something she’s tried to block out as best she can. “It could also be from finding out some shady government organization was experimenting on your corpse.”

Shock is too gentle a word, hatred a tiny bit too strong for the tone of his voice, “That does not seem like an activity I would condone.”

“It’s the exact opposite of what you requested.” Wanda thinks back to that day, and unlike Vision, pure, unabashed hatred flowed through her veins when she received an anonymous tip. Hatred at S.W.O.R.D, at the scientists going against Vision’s will, hatred at the world for being so awful, and hatred at her teammates who let it happen, who didn’t seem to consider that agencies like that lie, that they would never want the body only for “safe-keeping.” All Vision wanted was a burial and she was determined to provide him that, to allow herself the closure she needed. So she broke in, sickened at the way they’d disassembled him and had separate monitors attached to his limbs and head. “I broke in,” Vision holds his breath as she talks, “I took you from them and all I remember is flying away. I was going to bury you in the forest, like you wanted.” That’s where her memory stops and where Westview begins. “And then we were driving to our house after getting married.” Finally he releases his breath with a shuddering gasp. “That’s all I remember, you have to believe me that I have no idea what’s going on.” Unlike the other night, he wordlessly accepts her ignorance, mind likely still reeling from the revelations she shared. It is this lack of judgment that emboldens her to say what’s been swirling through her mind whenever the knowledge of reality sets in, a thought that should carry with it guilt but she can’t muster up guilt when she finally has what she has been denied over and over again. “But I’d be lying if I tried to convince you that I don’t prefer what we have in Westview.”

With a hand on her back, he leads her to the table, pulling out the chair in front of the barely steaming tea, and then he sits directly next to her, tenderly taking her left hand in his own, thumb rubbing absentmindedly along her wedding ring. “I cannot fault you in any way for that feeling. If not for being complicit in the pain of so many, I would wholly embrace this life we have now.”

His tacit disapproval is only slightly less painful than his yelling, but she has to begrudgingly accept that he may not be completely wrong. Whatever pain he has sensed in others was enough to make him tear through the barrier and risk losing his own family. “But what if,” still she fights against figuring it out, unsure she can handle what it might lead to, “what if fixing this means I lose you again,” which is already incomprehensible, but is made even more harrowing by the next possibility, “what if it means losing Billy and Tommy too?”

Tears lick at the corners of his eyes, a war waging on his lips of how to proceed. “It will be horrifying and it will be immensely difficult but you,” he grabs her other hand, his fingers forming a vice around her own and she isn’t sure if he is trying to convince her or himself more, “are so remarkably resilient.”

Sometimes she wishes his density manipulation applied beyond just his body. “Clearly not, Vizh. Look around us.”

Vision doesn’t, instead he looks down at their enjoined hands, a shaky breath recentering his thoughts. “I think we may be, as they say, putting the cart before the horse.” The verbal shift is so utterly ridiculous that she chuckles, an action that causes him to smile nervously. “Did I use it wrong?”

“No, it just, you always say it so academically.”

“I see.” Finally real, genuine amusement flits across his face. “Well, regardless, we don’t know what is happening, unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” It is not an accusation in the slightest, in fact it is said as an aside, almost hopeful that she’s waiting to surprise him with the solution.

There is a lot she hasn’t said, but none of it seems vital other than perhaps one observation. “I definitely have control here,” this itself is painful to admit. Where he is merely complicit if he remains here, she is actively continuing it, “but, I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t know how I’m doing this.” Vision takes in the admission, brow furrowing as he no doubts files it away in his future mysteries to solve mental folder. “Like tonight,” she thinks back to when Billy told her about the soldiers, to the moment she realized what Vision had done, “All I knew is that I needed to save you because I couldn’t lose you again. I didn’t have any idea of how or what to do, but I felt like if I just put all of my powers into it, that something would happen.”

It’s amazing how easily he transitions into his cool and clinical investigator voice, “Is this the first time you’ve felt that?”

“No. I mean sometimes I have an idea of what I’d like,” such as when she saw the beekeeper come out of the sewer and then vanquished it, “but other times I just have a hope it will be fixed.”

“That is a start.”

Wanda waits for more and when it doesn’t arrive,she pushes for it, “What does that mean?”

He releases her hands and pats his legs, an odd energy reinvigorating in him. “We must figure out the source of these alterations. Clearly it is not just you.” A fact she can’t say for certain but doesn’t have the heart to correct him on, enjoying how it feels like they’re a team again instead of bitter foes. “I met someone tonight who has knowledge of our prior lives.”

This is unexpected and terrifying. Perhaps the only good thing is that she knows it is not Pietro, because she is not willing to trust him, but to be fair, she isn’t sure she can trust whomever Vision found. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Darcy, she says she is an astrophysicist and has a seemingly strong grasp on what happens outside of Westview.”

Vision is not a very strong judge of character all the time, quick to trust and slow to lose hope in a person, as evidenced by his continued trust in her, yet she asks him anyway. “Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay.” For now she lets him hold on to that belief, knowing that she will be able to assess this person when they meet. Which also means she knows, deep down, that if this person ends up like Monica, one of S.W.O.R.D.'s cronies, that she’ll be forced to take control again.

The sincerity of his “Thank you,” and the tenderness with which he grabs her hand again, bringing it to his lips with a bit too much romantic melodrama, brings about a fluttering warmth in her chest she has so dearly missed, one that chases away all the disparaging thoughts of what is to come, “truly, for your honesty.” Wanda simply smiles in return, not entirely certain her honesty is worth much at the moment.

It is a relief when Vision maneuvers the conversation to a happier topic. “You said Billy could sense me tonight?”

Pride spreads her lips into a toothy grin, “He’s a natural telepath.”

Vision shares her feelings, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. “We shall have to see if he has your telekinesis as well.”

“We will. Also, Tommy has superspeed.”

Vision’s paternal delight perks up his entire body. “Remarkable.”

“They’re pretty impressive.” Wanda finally picks up the tea and takes a sip, not caring it no longer holds any warmth, far too enamored and distracted by Vision launching into a suggestion of a training regime for their sons, the Maximoff family seeming to be front and center in his mind. If there is any kindness in the world, they deserve at least one night to care about themselves and no one else.

#wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #darcy lewis #scarlet vision #mine

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